Jake's Wake (29 page)

So she stood back, holding the shovel, and waited for Esther to do what ever she had to do.

But Esther had Eddie beside her; and even dead, he still played the heart to her head.

Give him to God
, Eddie said to her with his soundless, throatless, bloodied lips.
There is no one more lost than him. Or more needing of God’s healing grace.

And though she could barely bring herself to look at his mutilations, it was impossible to argue with that.

One thing was for certain: his love was true.

So she knelt before the grave, and said the first prayer she’d learned in childhood: not from her parents, but from a fellow student and friend who’d actually believed in God and the angels.

“Our Father,” she said, “who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done—” She choked. “On earth, as it is in heaven.”

Jake stared up at her—at Eddie beside her—and though he did not pray along, he did begin to cry. And that was also something.

“Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses—” Taking deep, hitching breaths. “As we forgive those who trespass against us.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

“Amen,” she concluded.

“Amen,” said the rest.

Then they filled in the hole, and Jake was gone. Another secret for the desert to hold. Whatever else he might have to discuss would be done in the dark, through a mouthful of dirt, with the demons who shared his tomb with him.

Alone together. Forever and ever.

In an intimate, infinite hell.

Up above, it was magic hour: that brief slice of sunrise when the sky seems to glow like a jewel from within. The most beautiful, multicolored moment of the day, replicated only once again, at dusk.

Evangeline wanted a cigarette. Jasper handed her one. Christian gave her a light. He had all the lighters now.

“Hey, you guys,” she murmured as Jasper nuzzled her wild red hair.

“Hey, yourself,” they said as one. Happily united once again.

“Oh, that’s nice…”

The leading edge of the sun emerged from behind the purple mountains at the far end of the valley. The soft violet light of predawn turned to gold, lifting their gazes, as well as their hearts. And making them smile.

Not everything was broken.

Together, they soaked in the dawn for a long peaceful moment, while the desert awakened all around them to a life that only looked like death.

Sharing a little glimpse of heaven.

In the brave new world that had just begun.

And Jasper thought about his body. How heavy, how useless it seemed to him now. He thought about Jake, lumbering around in a place that had clearly outlived him. What was the fucking point in that?

Then he thought about the little Bible girl, and why it was that she alone had not come back in the flesh.

He contemplated Evangeline’s description of her death. How she’d lifted her arms, as if to fly.

When it’s time to go, you go
, he thought.

Blowing life a little kiss.

And just like that, he went.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

 

Because
Jake’s Wake
started out as a motion picture, and it takes a shitload of people to make those things, John Skipp would like to effusively thank: the very brilliant Laura Bahr (for working on the screenplay with me from the very beginning, embodying Emmy on both the page and the screen, and in the process, giving kisses to the missus); Steve Walter (production partner, prime mover, and villainous muse extraordinaire); Damon Packard (editor, sound designer, visual fx whiz, and one-man encyclopedia of film); my wonderful stars Alisha Seaton (Evangeline), A. K. Raymond (Esther), Peter Pano (Eddie), Kerr Seth Lordygan (Christian), Garrett Liggett (Mathias), Steve Stone (proto-Jasper), John McLaughlin (Jasper), Dierdre Lyons (Lorna), Ursula Vari (Natalya), Cyanne McClairian (Crissy), Cheryl Lyone (Sugar), Frank “Fuk’n Frankie” Pestello (as, you guessed it, Frankie), and that Goodfellow guy (for whom Gray was created), all vastly enriching our sense of who these characters might truly be; production partner and line producer Ed Polgardy, who pulled and held the team together; Laurence Avenet-Bradley, who shot it beautifully; Rob Winfield, who sprinkled CG magick; Marianne Walter, who made up both the living and the dead; and Mike Gaglio, Chris Garcia, Lou Garcia, Annette Garcia, Jesse Anderson, Tim Keegan, Isabel Ferrer, Paul Gebeau, Michael Su, Dan Martone, Laura Martone, and Dani Cahn, for making it happen behind the scenes. I’d also like to thank my beautiful family; the short-lived tribe at Brilliant Drive; Scott Bradley, who bailed me out when the floor caved in; my friends at JR Media; our agent, Lori Perkins; Don D’Auria and the Leisure machine; the dearly loved and lost Ms. T; everyone else I love; and finally, Jane Hamilton and Max Cirigliano, for giving me a home at last.

 

 

Because it takes a village to raise a village idiot, Cody Goodfellow would like to thank: Adam Barnes (if I had to fight for my own work as vigorously as he has done, I would have quit before I got started); the Punk Horror family, David Agranoff, Paul Stuart and Gabriel Llanas; our webmaster and Furry Community liaison, Travis “Funky Trunk” Hoecker; our digital witchdoctor, Rob Winfield; Darius Shahmir, Benji Gillespie and Ian Hannin, for putting sex in the Champagne Room; Ryan C. Thomas, for putting the raunch in
Ranch & Coast
; Green Party candidate Peter Shenouda; my first, favorite and most feverish fan, Eunice Magill; Jeromy and Claudia Cox; Curt Benedetto and Kristen Tinderholt of Frock You Vintage, for dressing me like a grown-up; my funky Dutch unclefucker, Ron McPhee; my brother, Matt Carter; my brother by another mother, Aaron Costello; my brother in excess (and ex-wives), Steve “Tweak” Cordova; tech support guru and Honky Propulsion Systems CEO, Chris “The Stormin’ Mormon” Frandsen; Del and Sue Howison at Dark Delicacies; Alan Beatts and the alluring, enduring staff of Borderlands; Ed “Big Daddy” Bove, Cathy Down, Nancy Dietermeyer, Jeff Gelb and the Mediabase Militia; the inestimably awesome Ray at Copy Hub (because if you live in the 818 and get your copies anywhere else, I will fight you); and most of all, my lovely and vivacious wife Victoria, for copyediting with benefits, and everything else.

PRAISE FOR HORROR’S NEWESET LITERARY
SUPERGROUP, JOHN SKIPP AND CODY
GOODFELLOW!

 

“Skipp and Goodfellow get inside your brain, and they know just where to detonate the explosives for maximum effect.”

—Christopher Golden, author of
The Boys are Back in Town

 

“Don’t call the nurse, call the hearse. Here come Skipp and Goodfellow with a pair of sharpened undertaker’s shovels and a new novel called
Jake’s Wake
. You want some fire and even more brimstone, step right up…but watch out. These boys are about bad business and bad intentions. No one’s going to rest in peace around here.”

—Norman Partridge, author of
Dark Harvest

 

“Like thunder and lightning, Skipp and Goodfellow are two singularly powerful forces that make one dynamic, masterful combination.”

—Brian Keene, author of
Castaways

 

PRAISE FOR
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING
AUTHOR JOHN SKIPP
AND
THE LONG LAST CALL
!

 

“Readers with a taste for…blood and guts…will enjoy Skipp’s latest excursion into ‘Splatterpunk,’ the horror subgenre he confounded.…Think Stephen King’s
Needful Things
meets
From Dusk to Dawn
—but such a synopsis doesn’t do [it] justice.”

—
Publishers Weekly

 

“A mind-boggling jolt to the brain…. Unforgettable and addictive.”

—Stuart Gordon, director of
Re-Animator

 

“Welcome back, John…. One thing is for certain: John Skipp ain’t lost his touch. One of the founding fathers of Splatterpunk has produced a gruesome, zippy little number that does anything but ratchet things down…. The book hurtles along at a bullet train’s pace, and Skipp has that golden ability to draw the reader further along in the story than he or she may wish.”

—
Fangoria

 

“Just try to put this frenetic novel down, we dare you.”

—
Rue Morgue

 

“John Skipp is a badass.”

—Dread Central

 

Other
Leisure
books by John Skipp:

 

THE LONG LAST CALL