Part 8 (2/2)
”No. Tch'muchgar would recognize me immediately. I'll be waiting just outside. I'll use that sign on your arm to track you. After about two minutes, I'll pull you back out into this world.”
We are spinning along the highway, pa.s.sing the glowering taillights of trucks.
I urge nervously, ”You'll be protecting me in there? I mean, all the time?”
Chet looks over at me, obviously concerned. ”Hey, hey, of course, Christopher.” He puts his hand on my wrist and gives it a firm squeeze. ”I don't want you to worry about anything. You'll be perfect for this. I've told you. I'll protect you.”
There is a certain feeling of adventure in the air. Chet tells me that I will not encounter much resistance, because he has thought it all out so cleverly. Being a vampire, I will just walk in through the a.s.sembly of vampires.
And now we are driving on the moonlit road toward the meeting place of vampires, and I am stunned that here I am and that a celestial being is at the wheel, glancing in the side mirrors to see what objects might be closer than they appear.
We are driving, and the great cliffs that were blasted out of quiet hills to make a way in the wilderness loom around us, striped with the smooth tracks of dynamite core. We drive, and I am sorry that my friends are asleep in the back and can't help, but at the same time, I am proud to be saving the world alone, with a sigil on my arm to ward off evil and a magic disk in my palm - and I look out the window and drink in the pines perched on a cliff edge, and the swoop of the hills, and the moon sailing over like the wise eye of the carp.
And we are turning off the highway and onto rambling back roads. And Chet sounds drunk with excitement, but quietly, as he says, ”You should brace yourself for what you see. The first time I went, the vampires had bodies under tarpaulins. I fear they enjoy grotesqueries in that general vein.”
And he says to me, to buck me up, ”Hey. I just made a pun.”
And I say, ”Yeah. That was a great pun you made there, Chet.”
And he says, ”Christopher, I'm beholden to you for mentioning it.”
And we're driving on dark roads, past unknowing neighborhoods, and we're pulling up in front of a rundown church, where cars line the road beneath the pines - dark cars with license plates from many states - and now Chet is putting the black Cadillac into neutral, and park, and turning it off.
And I say to him, ”Well, where to now?”
And he grins wolfishly and answers, ”To h.e.l.l and back.”
We get out of the black Cadillac. The trees cl.u.s.ter thickly about us by the side of the road. The pavement is crumbling, and gra.s.s pokes through it.
Chet locks the doors, even though there is not much point (Jerk's window is wide open).
”Will the two of them be okay?” I ask.
Chet nods. ”The vampires will a.s.sume I'm saving them for sometime when I come home late and just want something quick.” He pockets his keys and rattles them.
The church looks like it was built sometime in the early sixties, and it has a wild sloping roof that peaks in a thin metal cross. The stained gla.s.s windows look like they're all just fragments of different colors, but I can't see too well because there's not much light coming from inside.
We walk up the flagstone path to the church. There must be a pond nearby, because I can hear the woody burping of the bullfrogs through the thick, dank forest.
The concrete of the church's bas.e.m.e.nt level is chipped and dislocated. The wood is faded, and damp black cracks meander through it.
There are a few people lingering by the front door, at the top of some concrete steps. ”Jill, I'm so happy to hear that,” says the man.
”Isn't it great?” she says.
Chet walks up the steps and says, ”Bob! Jill!” and holds out his hand.
They say, ”Hi, Chet!” and ”Good to see you, Chet!” and shake his hand.
I am looking at them strangely because there is something wrong with the way they are. It's like a movement I can't detect, or a strange double shadow fizzing at the edge of their outline.
”This is Christopher,” says Chet. ”He's come to meet the whole gang.”
They smile at me, and the Jill one says, ”Great to have you - go right in,” and we walk in.
Inside is a large parish hall with weighty curved beams arching across the roof. There's a buffet with lots of ca.s.seroles at one end, and ten tables have been set up and covered with paper tablecloths. The hall is filled with people. Some are sitting and laughing, eating green beans or talking and poking at the air with their plastic forks. Others are standing, holding styrofoam plates and laughing to one another. Some little toddlers are running from one end of the hall to the other, until a woman in a purple skirt and pink running shoes goes over and grabs one of their arms and I guess tells them to be quiet.
All of them have the double shadow, except some of the kids, and Chet. I squint to see if it goes away, but it doesn't.
Chet smiles and waves like a politician, and they look at him sort of respectfully. I see a few teenagers over in one corner, whispering among themselves. The oldest one is an imposing guy of about eighteen or nineteen, who is wearing a jean jacket with the arms taken off. He has a bat tattoo on his upper arm. There are some girls standing around him, and I wonder if one of them is Lolli Chasuble.
”I'll be right back,” says Chet to me. ”Just sit down and try and be un.o.btrusive.”
I am frightened, and I pull out a folding chair with a clattering that would be loud enough to wake the dead, if they weren't already serving themselves macaroni and cheese at the other end of the room. I sit down. I do not want the teenagers to come over and talk to me. I do not like meeting new people and always say something dumb. I especially hate meeting new people with fangs.
Chet has strolled across the room and is talking with some important-looking men.
Near me, there is a little girl in sagging brown leggings who is sc.r.a.ping her styrofoam plate with the edge of her fork. She pushes aside a chunk of cartilage and says to her father, ”I'm done. Can I have more? Can I have more?”
He leans down close to the table and says precisely, ”May I have more?” I have more?”
I have figured out by now about the double shadows. Vampires. I must be able to see who is a vampire now that I am becoming one. This must be how that woman with the blonde hair saw me right before she was lynched. Vampiro-scopic vision. She must have thought I was a traitor because I was not helping her out. Maybe I was was a traitor. a traitor.
I look into the Dixie cups sitting on the table near me. They're filled with red punch. It looks like wild strawberry flavor.
I sniff it. It really is wild strawberry flavor. I don't understand why these vampires are eating human food. I make a mental note to ask Chet about it when we're alone.
”Ready?” says Chet, standing over me. Beside him is a man who looks like he is in his thirties, wearing a saggy European suit and a s.h.i.+rt with no collar. His hair goes down to his shoulders.
”Hi, Chistopher,” he says with a fake-o smile. ”I'm Dr. Chasuble. You may have received a letter from my daughter?”
”Yes,” I say. ”It's nice to meet you. She has a way with colored pens.”
He laughs, and I shake his hand, but suddenly I realize that I am sitting down and should be standing up to be polite. I stand up, but he's already stopped shaking my hand. Now the teenagers are staring at me. I can feel their interest and disdain.
”Shall we go in?” asks Chet.
”After you,” says Dr. Chasuble, gesturing toward some double doors at the other end of the parish hall.
We walk down the length of the room, and I can tell people are staring at me. Some of them stop talking and lay their plastic forks down beside their plates. I am sweating, and I feel like I am very confused. The smell of the ca.s.seroles clogs my nostrils.
I say politely, ”Mmm! Chicken ca.s.serole.”
Chet's eyes are secretly dark, but he puts his arm around me and says brightly, ”Christopher, that isn't chicken.”
I look back at the room full of them eating it. I think of the father, bending low - ”May I have some more?” - and I think of the cheesy flesh sliding down the child's gullet. I stop and stare; Chet pushes me on. We have arrived at the double doors. Dr. Chasuble opens them. We pa.s.s through a hall where the windows are broken, with webs of torn plastic strung over them to keep out the rain; a rotting corkboard is stuck full of messages held on with voodoo pins. We come to the far end of the hall, and Dr. Chasuble opens another door. Then we are in the sanctuary of the church of Tch'muchgar. I have some more?” - and I think of the cheesy flesh sliding down the child's gullet. I stop and stare; Chet pushes me on. We have arrived at the double doors. Dr. Chasuble opens them. We pa.s.s through a hall where the windows are broken, with webs of torn plastic strung over them to keep out the rain; a rotting corkboard is stuck full of messages held on with voodoo pins. We come to the far end of the hall, and Dr. Chasuble opens another door. Then we are in the sanctuary of the church of Tch'muchgar.
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