Planet Purgatory (11 page)

“That wasn’t funny!”

I could barely hear my voice over the ringing in my ears. Flea, meanwhile, was laughing so hard she looked like she was going to be sick.

“Your face!” she howled. “Oh, your adorable face!”

I didn’t know if I should laugh along with her or shoot her with my gun. Instead, I drank some chikka, looking on in bemusement as the imp rolled around the floor. And that’s when it hit me: exhaustion like I’d never felt before. It was as though a heavy blanket of tiredness was draped over me, and it was all I could do to keep my eyes open.

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” asked Flea, lifting herself off the ground with a devilish grin.

“No, no. I’m just resting my eyes, that’s all.” I took a swig of chikka, pressing the back of my head against the earthen wall.

“Because if you fall asleep, I might eat you.”

“No, you won’t. I’m too quick, remember?”

I closed my eyes, picturing the sunlight on the leaves of my sugar beets. I was almost gone. I could have fought it, but the need for sleep was too much. And in a final burst of consciousness I said, “If you do eat me, can you do it quick? I’m already in a lot of pain.”

I didn’t know how, or why, but when I woke up again, I found myself back in the forest, propped up against a tree. The imp and her underground room were gone. Confused, I spent the following moments trying to figure out if I was still dreaming. Usually I’m good at that, but if this was a dream, it was awfully convincing.

With a groan, I rose to my feet. My leg was sore, but nothing like before. If anything, it was stiff, and as I limped in a circle, trying to make sense of my situation, I spied my gun and a black leather sack lying against the very same tree where I was sleeping. Curious, I opened the sack to discover two bottles of chikka.

Well, that was awfully kind,
I thought, returning the sack to the ground.

I was well and truly confused. Was I dreaming? Or was my encounter with the imp the dream?

I searched the area, looking in vain for the hole in the tree where I’d taken refuge from the Dhatura.

That’s what she called them, wasn’t it? Dhatura?

Confusion gave way to fear. I was in the forest, and I had no idea where to go.

“Flea? Are you out there? Flea?”

Heart thumping, I was wrestling with what direction I should begin traveling when a demon landed on a tree branch above me.

“Oh, thank goodness,” I said. “You don’t know what a relief it is to see a friendly face.”

The demon peered down at me, its oval eyes glowing in the shade of the leafy canopy.

“I’m lost. Do you know which way I should go?”

I knew it wouldn’t answer, but when it took off from its perch to disappear through the trees, it was as though it took all of my hope with it.

“No! Come back! Don’t leave me on my own!”

I grabbed my sack of chikka and hobbled after it only to discover it had moved to a nearby tree, the shape of an arrow carved conspicuously into its bark.

The cut was deep. And fresh.

“Am I supposed to follow this?” I asked the demon.

With no other options, I set off in the direction the arrow was pointing.

Other than the demon following me, the forest appeared empty. I’d hear things, cracks and creaks and rustling, but every time I turned to aim my gun, there was nothing there.

I eventually came across another arrow, carved into the tree bark in the same heavy-handed manner as the first. I was still confused, but at least I could pretend I was traveling toward something, anything. It was like I was playing a game, but the rules were a mystery.

My leg was holding up surprisingly well. In fact, it was getting better. No longer forced to hobble, I was able to carry on with only the slightest limp. I suspected it was the chikka. I could only thank the imp for her generosity, if indeed she existed at all.

I found a half-dozen of those mysterious arrows, but the forest never changed, save for the dimming light, and I was preparing myself for a night in that horrible place when the distinct smell of woodsmoke invaded the air.

It came in wafts, but as I walked it grew stronger, until I saw a great plume of smoke rising through the trees. Gun in one hand and sack of chikka in the other, I hurried toward it, staying as low to the ground as possible. I soon found myself at the lip of a basin, looking down at a massive bonfire surrounded by a crowd of green-men. They were dancing. Or at least, I think they were dancing. It was more a sequence of grotesque movements set to a beat only they could hear. The sight of them set my heart pounding. I never got over what they did to my Rosie, and I was sorely tempted to rush down the hillside and kill as many of the bastards as I could before they ultimately overwhelmed me. But that would be selfish.

I needed a detour. Fortunately the green-men were too caught up in their ghoulish dancing to notice me, and I carefully made my way around the basin when I spied a wagon on the other side of the bonfire. It was attached to a horse, and sitting in the front was a man. The flames were too blinding to make out any detail, but it was definitely a man.

A prisoner.

It wasn’t so long ago I would have been content to leave him to his fate and get the hell out of there. It was a shame, yes, but those things happened. That’s why they tell you, “Stay out of the forest.” But now, the answer wasn’t so clear.

I counted at least twenty goblins. That meant twenty shots, and that was providing I didn’t miss. That didn’t seem possible, yet leaving would mean abandoning the principles that would ultimately free me from this accursed place. It was too much, and I looked up into the darkening sky, stomach filled with butterflies.

“Is this a test?” I asked.

I don’t know if God answered, but I made up my mind. Pacing in a circle, I visualized myself storming the bonfire. There would be no room for hesitation; it would be one pull of the trigger after another. All that was left was deciding on the line of attack.

I was so focused on the task before me that I failed to notice a green-man strolling toward me. We nearly collided, and for a moment we stared at each other, its golden eyes wide with surprise. My first reaction was to shoot it, but that would have brought unnecessary attention. So I decided to hit it instead, and I was just about to whack it in the head with the butt of my gun when everything went black.

“Dave! Dave! Wake up!”

It was the strangest thing. I was sure I was sleeping. In bed. At home. So who was this man calling my name? And why couldn’t I move?

“Dave! Buddy! You got to wake up!”

I opened my eyes and saw a familiar face grinning at me. The Scavenger.

Nothing made sense, and I struggled to move my arms only to discover my hands were bound behind me.

“You gotta relax. Fighting’s only gonna make it worse.”

I closed my eyes, waiting for the fogginess to subside. I knew where I was now: the bonfire. What I couldn’t figure out was what the Scavenger was doing there? He looked completely at ease, even with the green-men gathered behind him.

“Yo, Dave. Are you all right? You took a nasty bump to the head.”

I went to feel my scalp, but my hands were bound too tightly.

“I told you. Stop struggling. It’ll only make things worse.” The Scavenger brought his weathered face level with mine. “You’re a long way from Harkness. What are you doing out here anyway? This is scavenger country.”

“Saving you.”

The Scavenger laughed. “From what?”

“From them,” I said, nodding at the goblin standing next to him.

This made the Scavenger laugh even more, and he stood to place his arm around the monster’s shoulder. “I ain’t in no danger here. Me and the green-men have what could be called a business arrangement. They don’t bother me, and I keep selling them stuff. Ain’t that right, Chief?” he said, pulling the green-man close.

I was still having problems focusing, but that last statement was a slap in the face. “You … you trade with these monsters?”

“Now, I’d be careful what you say. They might look dumber than a bucket of golf balls, but they understand more than they let on. And in answer to your query, me and the green-men have been working together some time now. In fact we’re working on some business right now.”

The Scavenger bent on one knee to peer into my face once more.

“I’m trading for you, buddy.”

I was overjoyed. “Really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“So how close are you to, you know, getting me?”

“Oh, we’ve already sealed the deal,” said the Scavenger, flashing me his crooked smile.

“Thank God! I was starting to get worried. Could you cut me free now? I want to get out of here.”

But the Scavenger shook his head. “You misunderstand. I ain’t trading for you alive. That boat sailed when you killed my girls. No, I’m trading for you roasted.”

His smile grew wider as the realization of what he meant trickled into my brain.

“I’ve been thinking about that theory of yours,” he said, returning to his feet. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Now that’s not to say I agree, but let’s just say you’re correct, and this is indeed Purgatory; I know why I’m here. It’s my inability to forgive. I’ve always carried grudges. Always.” He watched me, smile turning into a frown. “Ain’t this where you tell me I can still turn it around?”

I said nothing, meeting his gaze with a surly expression of my own.

“I disliked you the moment I met you, Eno. You’re so miserable. Maybe this will cheer up,” he said, swaggering to the back of his wagon. “Guess what I’m trading you for?”

The Scavenger held up a bottle of my chikka.

“Where did you get that?” I demanded.

“Ah, so I finally got a reaction out of you. If I don’t know better, I’d say you value chikka over your own life.”

The Scavenger pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth and spat it on the ground. “Guess how many I got in here? One hundred. Well, ninety-nine, now. And guess how many I traded you for?” He looked at me, grin growing even wider. “Three. Three bottles of chikka for one roasted David Eno. They wanted four, but when I pointed out how skinny you are, they settled on three.”

“How’d you find those? That’s my stash! Where’d you find those?”

“I’m a scavenger. It’s my job to find things.”

The Scavenger laughed, and took a swig of his ill-gotten treasure, spitting most of it out in the process. “I still don’t know how you do it,” he said with a cough. “But I’m getting better. My hope is that by eating you, my tolerance for this stuff will go up, too.

“You piece of shit! When I get out of here, I swear —”

“That’s what I want to see! Come on, struggle! Break free from those bonds!”

The Scavenger seemed to revel in his position of tormentor, and he paced up and down his wagon, sipping then coughing out mouthfuls of precious chikka.

It was then that I heard someone whisper my name. It was the imp, and she’d crawled beside me, staring at me with her alien eyes.

“Looks like you’re in another pickle,” she smiled.

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh! You don’t want the bad man to know I’m here, do you? Now, hold still, I’m going to cut you free.”

I don’t know what she did, but whatever bound my hands was gone.

“And you’ll need this,” she whispered, sliding my gun beside me.

I couldn’t believe my luck, and I glanced down in time to see the imp staring up at me. “You owe me,” she hissed. And then she was gone, leaving me to watch as the Scavenger stopped to admire the bonfire.

“I was wondering, what happened to that bitch of yours? Rosie was it? Ah, I can see from your face, it wasn’t good. Is she dead? That’s it, isn’t it? That’s a shame, because I bet she’d be tasty, too.”

I’d never wanted to hurt someone so badly in my life, but there were too many green-men, so I hid my gun under my leg, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

“Well, time to see if a revenant tastes any different than regular folk —”

No sooner had the Scavenger spoken than an explosion filled the air, sending clumps of dirt and green-men flying in all directions.

Flea!

Quick as gunfire, I jumped to my feet, and with the green-men distracted, I started shooting. I didn’t even stop to think; I just ran round that bonfire, shooting every green bastard I saw until there were none left. It was thrilling, and I was standing there, feeling the pounding in my chest, when a cackle echoed through the trees. The Scavenger had escaped on his horse, and the sound of his maniacal laughter was enough to set my hair on end.

I was soon joined by Flea, who stared at the body-filled basin with something approaching awe. “My goodness, David. You certainly know your way with a gun.”

“Yeah, well. I couldn’t have done it without your help. Thank you.”

The imp smiled. “I couldn’t let anything happen to my David, now could I? Not after I went to the trouble of making all those arrows.”

Her admission sent me back a step. “So that was you!”

“Of course it was me. Who else could come up with something so clever?”

I shook my head in bewilderment. “Where was I even going?”

“Why, to the
SYS
building, of course.”

I was speechless. “Why didn’t you just tell me where it was?” I eventually asked.

“What would be the fun in that? Besides, I wanted to see you perform on your own.”

“Perform? Oh my God! This is like a game for you!”

The imp batted her strangely attractive eyes. “Isn’t it?”

I wanted to scream. She was so frustrating, yet I couldn’t get angry. Not after all she’d done. “At least that demon showed me where to look. I don’t think I would have found it if it wasn’t for him.”

Now it was Flea’s turn to look confused. “What demon?”

“You know, the flying ones. They look like little pterodactyls?”

It wasn’t registering.

“The little fellas with the changing eyes. Leathery wings?”

I was digging through my mind, trying to think of another way to describe it when I saw one sitting in a tree on the edge of the bowl. “There!” I said. “That’s one right there! In fact, he’s probably the one that showed me the arrow in the first place.”

To my surprise, Flea picked up a rock and threw at it, cursing in an alien language while the demon disappeared into the trees.

“What’d you do that for?”

“I hate those things!”

Shaking my head, I stepped over the lifeless body of a green-man to survey the carnage around me. I knew I was a good shot, but I never dreamed I was capable of destruction on this scale. This was a massacre. Dead green-men lay everywhere. For a moment, just a moment, I felt a kernel of remorse for what I’d done, but I stepped on it, extinguishing it like an old cigarette. Green-men were monsters. They’d killed Rosie and were moments away from throwing me into the still blazing bonfire. They deserved what they got. I was just glad for my gun.
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definitely knew what it was doing when it made that thing; hopefully they would be generous when I explained to them the danger our settlement was facing.

I lit a cigarette and went to examine the Scavenger’s wagon. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d found my stash. The sight of those bottles, packed neatly in crates, was enough to make my blood boil, and cigarette dangling from my mouth, I set about removing them from the wagon, crate by precious crate.

“What are you doing?” asked the imp.

“Bastard stole my chikka.”

“So you’re just going to drink it all right now?”

I paused to wipe the sweat from my brow with my sleeve. “I’m going to bury it.”

“With what? Your fingers?”

“This,” I said, tossing a shovel onto the ground. I’d found it strapped to the side of the wagon. And just in case that wasn’t enough, there was a rusty pickax as well.

I felt like a pirate with a chest full of treasure, and rolling up my sleeves, I started digging a hole while Flea looked on in impish bemusement.

“You’re really digging a hole?”

“Do you know how many bottles I have here? I’m not leaving this out in the open!”

“How are you going to find it again once you’ve buried it?”

“I’ll make a map.”

“How? You have no paper. You have no pen. You don’t even know where you are.”

The imp was right. I was being ridiculous. Tired, I jammed the shovel into the ground and hopped onto the back of the wagon, where I opened myself a bottle of chikka.

“I don’t understand. You said chikka was poisonous to humans. Why was the Scavenger able to drink it?”

The imp leaped into the wagon beside me. “The answer is simple. He’s no longer human.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s no longer human. It happens. I don’t know why. But it does, and almost always, it’s for the worst.”

I sipped my chikka, wondering how that could be.

“I see your leg is healed,” said the imp with a mischievous grin.

Without thinking, I bent and straightened my leg, and was surprised to discover it didn’t hurt. “Is this your doing?”

“No,” giggled Flea.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Oh, nothing.” She peered into my eyes, curious, searching. “So you’re a revenant, are you?”

I groaned and closed my eyes, focusing on the warm chikka haze enveloping me.

“I thought they only did that with animals —”

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

But the imp didn’t care, aggressively sniffing my neck while I fought to keep her away.

“What the hell are you doing?” I said, jumping to the ground.

“I knew there was something different about you!”

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

I stood watching the bonfire, doing my best to ignore the imp’s stare, when something moved behind a woodpile not far from the wagon. The imp heard it too, and together we listened as a twig snapped.

From the glint in Flea’s eyes, I knew she was ready to pounce. I, however, was more cautious, and signaled for her to remain in the wagon while I went, gun drawn, to see what it was. She ignored me, of course, leaping from the wagon to peer around the woodpile with childlike delight.

“Come,” she mouthed.

Heart racing, I joined her, peeping my head around the corner to see a hauntingly familiar face staring back at me. It was Laurie. She was barely recognizable. A skeleton, really, her formerly lustrous hair reduced to a few wispy strands clinging to a scabby scalp.

“Laurie,” I said, taking a cautious step forward.

“You know her?”

“She’s from Harkness, the settlement I’m from. Laurie, can you hear me?”

The poor woman was lost in a terrifying world only she could see, and overcoming my revulsion, I took her by the hand and led her to the wagon.

The imp was enthralled.

“She was touched by an energy orb,” I explained.

“Oh, I know what happened to her.”

“So you know about the aliens?”

“Is that what you call them? Aliens?”

I felt my stomach jump. “Why? What do you call them?”

“Does it matter? ‘Aliens’ is a good enough name, I think. What I want to know is, what is she doing here?”