The Devil Delivered and Other Tales (36 page)

“Of course!” I laughed. What a plan!

“But finally I start gettin turd a the whole thin, an wi the world back t’normal I figured it’s time t’put the little man in his place. So I give it what I need to wrassle his arm t’the ground. Only he’s bin sittin there so long, an strainin so long, that he’s near turned t’stone! So—snap! His arm comes right off at the shoulder, an he didn’t e’en twitch! But it awoked im up anyway, and up he stands, shaking his head.

“An he says: ‘I ain’t never known anyone who coulda done that t’me! Not even—’” And Grandma Matchie sneered at the Major. “‘—not even when I tied the sea snake’s head to her tail!’”

“Liar!” screamed the Major, flying to his feet. “That’s not how One Armed Trapper lost his arm at all! Liar!”

Leapening to her own feet Grandma Matchie clenched her fists and shouted: “I am not a liar! It was me who broke his arm off!”

“It was me! I did it long afore you!”

“You did not!”

“Yes I did!”

Well, it was obvious to me that this was never going to end, and I was exhausted, so I crawpelled off into a corner, and the shouting and boasting and accusing all jambled together as I fell asleep.

And next morning it was even worse. There were empty bottles of Canada’s Finest all over the floor of the cave, brolling here and there in the lurzy currents. And Grandma Matchie and the Major weren’t even talking to each other, and they wouldn’t tell me nothing so I never found out who ended up with One Armed Trapper’s arm.

The three of us packed up camp and started up the trail, going deeper and deeper into the cave. Pretty soon there were steps carved into the rock, going down. So down we went, nobody talking, nobody smiling. I just got sick of it and pushed ahead of them, holding the torch out in front of me.

The gold specks in the rock got bigger until they stuck out from the walls in nuggets, looking as soft as chewing gum. I remembered seeing some movie about these three guys in some desert who did nothing but try and kill each other over a whole pile of gold, and I remembered how one of them bit into one of the nuggets, so lots of people are fooled into thinking it’s chewing gum. The only other thing I could remember from that movie was this fat guy saying: “Badges, we don’t need to steenking badges!”

Neither did we, and we didn’t even care about all that gold. Gold? We don’t need no steenking gold!

Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and I whirled around. “Will you two—?” And there I stopped, glaping. They were holding hands! And they didn’t even pull them away when I saw it!

“‘Will you two’—what?” Grandma Matchie asked, smiling.

I tried to say something but the words gaggled in my throat. And after a minute I turned back to the trail, all my delusions shattered. It was awful!

“Hold up there, Tyke,” Grandma Matchie warned. “We’re gettin close!”

Up ahead I could see reflected sunlight. Westhawk Lake! Thank gothic! I felt like I was going to die! And they didn’t even look embarrassed! You’d think when someone got that old they’d know better.

Putting out the torch, we creepered to the edge of the opening. And there were stairs leading almost straight down, disappearing into the blackness. They looked like they went down forever—and even farther.

“Are we going down?” I asked, peepering over the edge.

“Yep, but first we gotta make sure there ain’t no demon fish lurkin ’bout.” Grandma Matchie’s eyes narrowed to slits and she glared around. “I don’t see none.”

“Me neither,” muttered the Major. “It’s a bad sign, if’n you ask me!”

“Aye…” Grandma Matchie made one last sweep with her eyes then straightened up and squared her shoulders. “Let’s go!”

She took the lead, then me, and then the Major. Down, down, and down some more, until the darkness turned the water into ink, and still we kept going down. The water went icy cold, then hot, then cold again. And little crayfish swambled around on the steps, wearing fur coats, so we had to watch our feet all the time. And then, slowly but surely, the water grew warmer, and a faint reddish glow seepened up from below, getting brighter and brighter.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Comes from the heart o’ the Earth, lad,” the Major hisspered behind me. “We’re almost there!”

“Who lives down there?” I whispered back.

“Shhh!”

Now, I don’t care how old or how small I am, I don’t take “shhh” for an answer to anything. “Who’s down there!?” I cried, making echoes run off in all directions. The Major swore but Grandma Matchie glared at him.

“Tyke knows one thin, Major, and now you do too. ‘Shhh’ don’t count. Ever!” And with that she nodded at me. “Problem now is, she’ll know we’re comin, and there ain’t a thin we’re gonna do ’bout it, neither!”

It wasn’t long afterwards that glowing spots of light swam up towards us. Demon fish, riding the backs of lamp rays, only these weren’t the normal kind of lamp rays at all. They were as long as snakes, glowing from the inside out, and their round mouths had a thousand million seven hundred twenty-one sharp teeth prangled up inside, stickering out everywhere. And the demon fish laughed at us, coming close then darpling away, hounding us all the way until we reached the floor of the lake. Then they raced off ahead of us and soon disappeared into the red gloom.

“She’ll be waitin,” Grandma Matchie announced grimmerly.

“Who?”

Turning to me, she said, “One Armed Trapper’s mom, that’s who. Lunker’s her name, an she’s the biggest pike you e’er seen!”

“She’s more’n that!” the Major growbled. “She’s the heart o’ the land! An a thousand years ago she ruled us all!”

“So she’d like t’think!” Grandma Matchie scowlered.

Glommering at her, the Major jutted out his chin. “You talk now! But I didna heared you back then, did I.”

“She ain’t ruled nobody who wasn’t ready t’be ruled!” Grandma Matchie snapped. “You ne’er saw me lickin er fins, didja?”

“I ain’t ne’er once licked those fins!”

“Hah!”

And before they could continue we heard rumbling, growing bigger by the second. The Major reached into his pack and pulled out a tiny fishin’ pole with a tinier hook and an even tinier worm hanging limply from it.

“So!” Grandma Matchie laughed. “Y’think you’re finally good ’nough, now, do ya?” And she laughed again. “But I better tellya, Major, you weren’t that good!” she added, smirkelling.

The Major’s face went red and he began fiddling with his fishin’ reel, muthering and grummerling.

Turning to stare off into the distance where all the rumbling and all the red light was coming from, Grandma Matchie frowned and said, “But I got more important problems t’think ’bout. There’s questions that gotta be answered, there is. And a course there’s Ester’s broom to get back!” She faced the Major again. “You don’t go doin nothin stupid afore I’m done, y’hear?”

“Bahhh!”

“Let’s get goin!” And with that Grandma Matchie began stramping forward. The floor was flat and warm under my sneakers and seemed to stretch off forever in all directions. Pretty soon we started passing schools of demon fish with big-nosed teachers running about ringing giant brass bells, and we saw older demon fish walking pet lamp rays around on leashes, standing round fire hydrants and mailboxes whenever the lamp rays stopped for a sniff or two, or lifted a short stubby fin while looking off in some other direction.

But everyone stopped what they were doing to watch us pass, and they laughed and snickered and hisspered to each other, and the lamp rays barked madly and strained at their leashes. And after a while we came to a big door, barred like a cage, and the rumbling came from beyond it.

Grandma Matchie’s frown deepened. “This weren’t here afore, nosiree. I don’t like it one bit!”

Even the Major looked worried. “I ain’t bin down ’ere in a thousand years, so it must’ve bin built recently. Freshly painted too! A bad sign, aye!”

The rumbling stopped suddenly, but the silence was even worse. Grimmerly, Grandma Matchie pushed the doors open and in we walked. In front of us was a huge hall, with a domed ceiling that glittered every color I’d ever seen and then some. And there, at the end of the hall, sat Lunker on her throne—which was carved from a mountain—smiling evilly down on us. Raising a bejeweled fin, she beckoned.

“Come closer, dearies! Come closer!” And her voice crackled like the crackle when you crumple cellophane in the toilet. Just like that. “I’ve been expecting you!”

Boy was she big. Almost as big as Satan Himself. Wearing a huge purple robe and a glittering crown made out of giant Red Devils. And she had a million thousand seventy-two sticks worth of lipstick smeared round her mouth, and thick splatches of red on her gills, and false eyelashes made from pine boughs, and bright red hair wavering about like a burning volcano. And her teeth were longer even than the sleeves of Dad’s woolen sweater after he’s slipped on spilled chocolate pudding and fallen in the lake.

“You’re lookin good, Lunker,” Grandma Matchie said, walking into the middle of the room. “As pretty as a picture!”

Some picture, I was thinking to myself as I followed behind her and the Major.

“So you’ve finally come back to me, eh Grandma Matchie?” Lunker chackled. “You haven’t been down here since I threw you out of my court two thousand years ago!”

Grandma Matchie chackled right back. “An it’s bin feelin pretty empty e’er since, I bet!”

Lunker fluthered her eyelashes and rolled her china-plate eyes at the ceiling. “Yesss,” she drawled, stifling a yawn. “I suppose jesters come in handy—even in this court. Too bad your tongue’s too sharp for your own good, isn’t it, Grandma Matchie?”

She sunorted in reply then looked around critically. “Well, it hasn’t changed much from in here, I see.” Then she gazed shrewdly at Lunker. “But that cage door’s a new one, ain’t it? Afeared a assassins, mebee?”

Lunker’s eyes flashed, then dimmed as she let out a long sigh. “Times change, Grandma Matchie.” Turning her head slightly she regarded the Major, who stood there with bent knees, holding his fishin’ pole tightly with both hands in front of him. “Why, Major! What we have there!”

“Where?” the Major’s voice was high and cracking.

“Why, in your hands, of course.”

Looking down, the Major screamed as if he’d been holding a snake and threw the rod down, staring at it in horror.

Lunker chackled. “Still full of delusions of grandeur, I see. Oh well, and then there are some things that never change!”

The Major gasped and panted, still staring at the rod at his feet.

“And,” Lunker continued, “it seems we have another guest!”

Uh oh, thinks I.

“Come forward, child! Let me see you more clearly! These eyes aren’t what they once were, you know.”

So I did.

Lunker reached around with her fins and pulled her gown tighter about her, then leaned forward. “And what’s your name, child?”

“Jock Junior, and I’m not a child!”

Lunker’s eyes widened and for a minute there I thought she was going to galobble me up in one bite. But with Grandma Matchie behind me I wasn’t scared. Not scared at all!

“I’m so sorry! Jock Junior, you must forgive my failing eyesight! Of course I can see now that you’re not a child! Yesss, you’re something else, aren’t you? Something more, maybe?”

“By my daughter,” Grandma Matchie said.

“A daughter! And a grandson! Oh my! I have been down here too long, haven’t I?”

“Nobody’s missin you, far as I can tell,” Grandma Matchie replied, her eyes blazening.

But Lunker just sighed again and half closed her eyes, and Grandma Matchie gave a little gasp, because you could tell she’d been expecting fire and brimstone.

“You’ve hit the proverbial nail on the head, there, Grandma Matchie,” Lunker said, and if you’ve ever seen a pike smile kindly then you’re one up on me. Though she tried! She really did! “And this brings us to the matter at hand, now, doesn’t it?”

“You took somethin an I want it back!” Grandma Matchie said, stepping forward.

“Ohhh, yes! An item of laborious obsession, I believe?”

“A buhloody broom!” Grandma Matchie snarped.

“Of course. A broom. Well,” Lunker sighed, lifting a corner of her robe and pulling out Mom’s broom. She eyed it critically. “Oh, the awful things to be found in a broom!” she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. “Oh dear, Horatio, you’ll never know what you missed!” Then she put it on her lap. “It has served its purpose, I suppose. And since it’s hardly the kind of trophy you’d mount on a wall, I suppose I can return it to its rightful owner.” And with that she beckoned and a demon fish appeared out of a small hole in one of the walls and scurried to her side. Lunker whispered a few words and handed the broom to the demon fish, who took it and disappeared. Facing us again, Lunker said: “There! Now that that’s done, we can get down to business!”

“What kinda buzness?” Grandma Matchie demanded suspiciously.

“I’m not likin the sounds o’ this,” the Major muthered glumly, and I had to nod agreement.

“It’s all really very simple, actually.” Lunker leaned back in her rock throne and made a small gesture with one of her fins. “A minor inconvenience to take care of, and with your kindly assistance it’ll be no great task.” And she reached down and grabbed the hems of her long robe. “I simply need help in removing—these!” And with that she pulled up her robe.

We all gaspered, not because we’d never seen a pike’s panties before (mind you, I don’t think I ever had), even ones Royal Purple. No, we gaspered because there were giant black chains wrapped round Lunker, with their ends padlocked to the floor.

“Well, well!” Grandma Matchie exclaimed, her eyebrows raised. “Now, whoever would’ve done such a thin!”

Lunker grimaced. “Who else? My own son, of course.”

I stared at her. “One Armed Trapper!?”

“Oh, then you’ve met him, have you, Jock Junior?”

“Met him! He come near to doin us in! For good!”

Sighing, Lunker let her robe fall down over the ghastly scene she’d shown us, and leaned back in her throne. “It follows, naturally. With me out of the way, One Armed Trapper’s ready to play! He’s flexing the muscles on that lone arm of his, I should hazard to presume. Really very unfortunate, isn’t it?”