Scarecrow Gods (48 page)

“Name yourself.”

“
I’m Billy Bones, Simple Simon,”
said the voice, now wholly masculine. “
Simple Simon and Billy Bones voices rant on.”

“Billy, is that you?”

“
Sure it is, Simon. What’s wrong?”

“Means movies, Billy? Means movies?” The voice had yet to figure that one out. Simon knew that if it was really Billy, he’d answer.

“Yes, means movies. In fact, here’s a movie for you. Simple Simon met a pieman going to the fair, said Simple Simon to the pieman let me taste your wares. Said the pieman to Simon, get the fuck out of here!”

Simon sighed and sat back, wiping the spittle from his face. All he seemed able to do was disturb the spirit. He’d yet to have it name itself, which was a critical aspect of the Rites. Then again, the rites weren’t working. What had his mother always said?
You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar
. So all he had to do was make the spirit believe in the vinegar. Simple.

He decided to let the spirit rest a while so he could gather his thoughts. An hour later, about half past midnight, he’d tried his new approach.

“Billy? Oh, Billy. Wake up.” Simon was in a playful mood that belied his exhaustion. He had a plan and was praying it would work. “Come on, Billy Bones. Voices rant on.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

“Is no amity, Simple Simon. Is no amity. We want to rest.”

“Tell you what. You want rest? I’ll give you rest. Just open your eyes a minute and let me talk to you. I have something to show you. Something I know you’ll be interested in.”

“What could you possibly have?”
asked Billy in a girl’s voice.

“I have Gods.”

Billy Bones opened an eye. The master of the inhabiting voice peered out. “
You got nothing.”

“No. Really, look around you. You’re surrounded by Gods. Old Gods of the desert. Powerful Gods. Gods that can capture you and make you forever theirs.”

Simon allowed Billy to sit up. The night was cool. With the half moon, the desert was lit in a crisp light, the saguaro highlighted as they rose toward the dark heavens.

“
I don’t understand
.”

“Then you aren’t looking close enough. You aren’t listening.”

Simon had thought long and hard about this. Several times, he’d threatened the
voice
, only to have the tables turned when it accepted his threats. The thing inhabiting Billy Bones had no qualms about harming the man’s body. After all, it seemed to be a purely spiritual entity. It had become very clear that threats wouldn’t work.

“Can you hear them? They’re calling to you. They want you to come home.”

He needed the spirit to believe in the power of the Scarecrow Gods. For them to work, the spirit had to believe they’d work.

Billy Bones didn’t answer. His head was down. He refused to look up. The Scarecrow Gods murmured in the soft desert wind, the sound unmistakable.

“They’re calling to you. I can understand them. They want you.”

“
I want to go home.
”

“Then why don’t you go?”

“
Lost…
” the voice keened into the wind.

“Tell me where you’re from. Maybe I can help you return.”

“
Can’t…This is my new home.
” Billy shivered as if freezing. “
Different. I miss… I miss…
”

“How’s it different? What do you miss?”

Suddenly, Billy sat up straight and stared off into the night. In the sing-song of a young girl, he began a nursery rhyme.
“Little little dumpling, my son John. Went to bed with his stockings on. One shoe off and one shoe on. Little little dumpling, my son John.”
He slumped, the rhyme ending in a sigh.

“Who are you?”

“
Margaret
,” said Billy, matter-of-fact and girlish.

“How old are you Margaret?”

“
Sixteen
.”

“I bet you’re very pretty,” said Simon, not knowing what else to say.

“
They all say that
,” said Billy Bones in the girl’s voice. He brought his bound wrists up to his face. Sucking on a thumb, he began to rock back and forth. Just as quickly, he stopped. “
Wanna fuck
?”

Simon’s mouth fell open. “No. No, of course not.”

“Sure you do. They all wanna fuck me. You wanna fuck me. A girl can tell those kind of things
.”

“Where’s your mother, Margaret?”

“
She’s dead.
Dead bug. Bed Bug. Dead Bed Bug
.”

“What happened, Margaret?”

“They killed her
.”

“How’d they kill her?”

“
They cut her chest open and ate her heart
.”

Simon really didn’t want to hear anymore, but he had the spirit talking and needed it to continue. If his plan failed, at least he’d know more about the spirit and the knowledge might help him on his next attempt.

“Margaret. You feel the power of this place don’t you?”

“
Yes. It’s hard to hang on. The brightness of the light is almost blinding
.”

Although he didn’t understand the reference, Simon pressed on. “The Gods are very powerful, aren’t they? How can you hold on?”

“
I want my Little Little Dumpling. I want to go home
.”

And suddenly he understood.

“You want John?”

“
Yes. I want my Dumping John. He needs me to protect him. I need him
.”

“You like to protect him, don’t you? You’re very good at it I bet.”

“
I am. When he was little, I kept him company in the darkness. We talked and played games together. When he got bigger I taught him how to fight, how not to care
.”

Simon noticed she hadn’t said
when we got bigger.

“
Do you know where he is
?” she asked.

There was only one John even halfway capable of doing this unthinkable deed. A thousand ideas were percolating, refining into one immensely improbable hypothesis. But no matter how impossible it seemed, the evidence of the spirit before him was undeniable.

“Sure do,” he said. “See those lights over there? That’s where he is. In those lights.”

“
I’m afraid
,” said the voice, cracking. “
The night is so dark
.”

“But the light is so bright,” he responded, still not sure what it meant.

“
Yes, the light. It’s blinding. So much power. I’m afraid, Simple Simon. Help me
.”

“It’s the Gods you’re afraid of. They will attack you if you stay here. The sounds you hear are other captured spirits. John will protect you. He’ll make you not afraid.”

“
Yes, they make it hard to stay. They want me with them, not with Billy. I can hear them calling.
”

“Go to John, Margaret. Go to him now.”

“
But what if he doesn’t want me
.”

“Of course he wants you. I’m sure you know what to do to make people want you?”

“
Of course, I do. I kiss them in places
.”

“Well, there you go.” Even as he said it, he cursed himself. The spirit was mortally wounded and needed help. Yet Simon had made the choice to help the living. Maybe one day, he’d be able to help the dead.

“
I like you Simple Simon the Pieman.
”

“Go now. Go to John.”

Billy Bones collapsed. The Scarecrow Gods seemed to get louder for a while, then softened as Billy came to.

“Means movies, Billy?” asked Simon.

“No more means movies.” Billy opened his eyes and stared at the Scarecrow Gods. A sob escaped.

“Billy, is that you?”

Billy looked at Simon. His gaze softened as he smiled. “Yeah. I think I’m okay now. Can you untie me? I need to pee real bad. Can you help me up?”

Simon cocked his head and stared for a moment, then he smiled as well. He couldn’t be one hundred percent certain, but his gut told him it had worked.

“Sure. Why not?”

* * *

The Land of Inside-Out

Beneath him, great and wondrous life pads moved and merged in a silent ballet. He was somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. One part of his mind watched the movement below him, while the rest of his mind calculated his chances of surviving this zero sum game.

He’d almost escaped, but the Chill Blaine was too fast and too strong. Try as he might, he’d been unable to break free of its grasp. Inexorably, he’d slowed until he came to the place he was now, transfixed in a blue void as the black thing leeched his life away. Amazingly, he felt no pain. In fact, had he not known what was happening to him, he’d just have thought that he was getting tired.

He struggled again to free himself, but the thing wrapped him tighter in its embrace.

Easy now. Keep still.

The creature’s name was Nancy. It had introduced itself as it began to feed. It didn’t speak much, but if Maxom tried, he could get flashes of memory from the thing. Darkness. Pain. A little boy in a dark room. A Satanic ceremony.

Maxom felt used up. He remembered back at Fort Bragg as he was completing his Special Forces Training. Part of it was a 28 mile ruck march. He’d made it, feet bloody and muscles sapped. It was the most exhausted he’d ever felt. Except for now. If anything, he was even more tired—tired without the blood and sweat and dirt of the sandhills of Fort Bragg.

Again, he tried to exit
The Land
, hoping the Chill Blaine might be taken off guard. Try as he might, it wouldn’t work. He wasn’t even able to return to his body like he had when Bergen had been beaten. It was as if the proximity of the creature prevented escape.

This was the end for sure. His only hope was that the creature would tire of the feeding and move off for a more tasty meal. Not much chance of that happening.

He felt sad. Sad for himself. Sad for the boy. He’d promised the kid he’d be there for him—to help protect him. But how much good could he if he couldn’t even protect himself?

That’s it. There’s the Maxom I know. Feeling sorry for yourself as usual, I see.

Maxom experienced a small happiness. His personal demon had returned. Instead of ignoring the voice like he usually did, he answered it.
Enjoy this Bernie. It’s the last time you can haunt me. Pretty soon I’ll be there with you.

Oh Maxom, you never did understand.

What’s there to understand?

There wasn’t a chance in hell for both of us to survive the torture.

What are you talking about? Vietnam?
Maxom wondered why Bernie was bringing this up now.

Of course. I’m talking about our crucifixions. I’m talking about your survival. I’m talking, my friend, about the deal I made with Lo Lo.

Maxom stopped, stunned. Bernie was talking as if he was really there. Maxom had always joked about his dead friend haunting him, but never took it seriously. But what if…

Bernie?

Yes, Maxom.

Are you here with me, or did I invent you?
He’d always thought of Bernie as his subconscious, a kind of moral barometer his mind had created to get him through the day.

That’s what I’m trying to explain. You never were a very good listener.

Maxom felt simultaneously scared and bewildered. He didn’t understand. Had he been possessed all this time? Had the spirit of his friend been within him?

Yes
, responded Bernie to the unasked question.

Then why didn’t you—

Because of the deal I’d made with Lo Lo and the spells that bound me to you. Only one of us could survive. I was the first to go, so the magic man approached me. He showed me how I could save you by adding my life energies to your own.

But you were dead.