Don’t Let Me Down

By Simon Jimenez

Chapter Six

“All For One”

*

There is a flower shop near the heart of the city, called Zara’s Spring, tucked away between two dilapidated border houses. Most people pass it by without a second thought. The owner, Zara Kerr Langley, who doesn’t look a day over twenty-one, has red eyes and caramel skin, and a voice that sounds as smooth and cool as water poured into a cup. Her cheeks puff into little marshmallows when she smiles.

She’s also a dragon.

“Well, a descendant of dragons,” she said. “My mom was a quarter dragon, her mother was half, her mother’s mother was three fourths, and you get the idea.” She tapped her chin. “I don’t think there’s been a real live dragon for centuries.”

“Three hundred years,” Brody said while filling out a form on the shop counter. “Vyrmr was the last of them, up in Canada.”

“That’s right, Vyrmr the Mighty Sun.” Zara had a wistful look in her eyes. “What happened to him again?”

“The White Crusaders ambushed him up on a mountain, struck him down. He fell, caused a massive avalanche, and wiped out an entire village.”

Brody told me about the White Crusaders before. They were religious zealots who knew about the existence of magical beings, and made it their own personal mission to destroy the ‘abominations from hell’. All my life, I had seen their campaign posters claiming to ‘know the truth of things’ stapled to city walls, but I never knew what they meant by that until now. Brody had a few run-ins with the group before, which explained a couple of the scars on his back.

Seemed like no matter who you were, someone was going to hate you.  

I wandered around the store, amazed at the things I was seeing: a see-through rose with a glowing light beating in the center, three-headed Venus flytraps with teeth, an orchid whose stem and head formed the shape of a woman knelt in prayer. The whole place smelt familiar, like I’d been here before...it was the smell of crushed lilacs and hydrangeas.

In the back of the store, there was a boy no older than twelve, sitting patiently on a plastic chair outside the scratched restroom door. His clothes were two sizes too big for him, and bandages covered his hands. When I passed by him, he looked up at me with his huge black eyes and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I replied. I was never good with talking to kids, so I pretended I was too busy studying the flowers to start a conversation.

That didn’t stop him. “I like your shirt,” he said.

I looked down at my plain white shirt, and wondered what was so great about it. “Um, thanks. Are you Zara’s son?”

He shook his head, and pointed towards the restroom. “My mom is in there. Do you like my shirt?” he asked, pointing at the white cross, sketched on his black tee.

“Yeah,” I said, “It’s very cool.” I saw Brody wave over at me from the counter. “I have to go. Bye.”

“Until next time, sir,” the boy said.

Brody signed his name on the bottom of the form and folded it in half before taping it to the chest he had put the yellow flower in, the same yellow flower he took from the immortal man in the alleyway. “Here,” He said, sliding the chest across the counter. Zara flipped it open and lifted the flower out of its holder, her eyes glimmering against the unnatural yellow shimmer of the petals.

“Welcome home, daughter,” Zara whispered to the flower, before laying it back in the chest. She gave a satisfied nod, and slid a pile of hundred dollar bills back to Brody. “Thank you. I’ll see that she is taken care of.”

Before we left the store, Zara called out to Brody. As he went back to talk to her, my eyes wandered out the window, and saw a bird standing on Brody’s car, a crow. Its black eyes were trained on me, as if studying me. I stared back at it until a hand fell on my shoulder.

“Let’s go,” Brody said. I turned back around and the bird was gone.

*

“I can’t even begin tell you how relieved I am to have met you guys.”

Tap tap.

“My Dad’s in the army, so we’re moving constantly. I left my last school just as I was starting to make friends.”

Tap tap tap.

“It’s hard to find honest people to hang with. Like, it’s so rare to meet someone not completely caught up in themselves and what others think of them.”

Tap tap tap tap.

“You guys seem alright, though.”

Tap tap tap tap tap. I glanced underneath the lunch table and saw Melvin’s foot pounding away against the floor with the urgency of a jackhammer. I sighed, knowing full well why his foot was having a heart attack: he was in love. His foot tapped when he was excited, and the only thing around to excite him was Alice Stevens, whose every word seemed to smother Melvin in an aural aphrodisiac.

Luckily, just when I thought Melvin was going to pounce over the table and rape her, Alice excused herself to go to the bathroom. I punched him in the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?” I asked.

“What are you talking about?” he said innocently.

“The heavy breathing, the gaping eyes, that fucking tapping... You look like you’re about to eat her face off.”

“D-do I?” Melvin took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I really do not know what has come over me. I should calm down.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and patted his damp brow, breathing hard, in and out. “Oh boy... oh boy.”

“That’s it,” I said. “Just relax.”

Melvin sighed and closed his eyes, stretching his hands out on the table. “Okay, I’m relaxed.”

“Hey, I’m back,” Alice said, jumping in her chair, “You know, Moore, from across the room I thought you looked a bit like a stocky Will Smith.” 

Tap tap tap tap tap tap.

Regardless of Melvin’s incredibly annoying rabbit feet, I had a good time at lunch. It was nice to have a third person at the table as opposed to just Melvin and me. Alice fit in perfectly, filling in gaps of conversation that would have otherwise gone untended. When the bell rang, Melvin and I headed for World History, and parted ways with Alice. He stopped me before we entered the classroom and reminded me that I had agreed to babysit his little brother that night.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” I said, but before I could continue walking, he stopped me again.

“Do you... do you think I have a chance with Alice?”

I laughed, not to be mean, but because his face reminded me of a little puppy. “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I really do think you have a shot.”

He giggled and followed me into class.

Ellis Moore was eight years old, no more than four feet tall, and liked to wear sweater vests over collared shirts. He was in the habit of licking his thumb before turning pages in a book, and saying ‘excuse me’ after every cough or sneeze- never after a fart, because he never farted. His sentences were concise and polite, and he never spoke out of turn. He was the perfect kid.

I’d be perfect too, if I had his mother. On weekdays, the Moore boys weren’t allowed to watch TV, use the computer, use the phone, or go outside. Slippers had to be worn at all times to prevent scratching on the hardwood, and any noise louder than conversational meant being grounded for a week. I couldn’t imagine living under so many restrictions and rules.    

“Here’s the list of emergency contacts,” Mrs. Moore said, handing me a sheet of paper with about five hundred phone numbers listed. “Thank you for watching Ellis. It’s very decent of you to give up your free time.”

“It’s no problem,” I said.

She gave a short nod, and left with Melvin for the mother-son banquet at the Masters Concert Hall, but not before giving Ellis a perfunctory peck on the forehead. As soon as they were gone, I entered their cozy, old English-style living room and found Ellis perched on a down feather chair, a monopoly game box sitting on his lap.  As I played with him, and as the night’s hours flew by like a hand of dealt cards, I wondered why I kept coming back to this house to see him. Was it to make sure he was alright, to save him when he needed saving? What could I do to save him? I couldn’t even save myself, but here I was, all the same, playing monopoly with the boy whose fate was intertwined with the end of the world. I just wish I knew the where’s when’s and why’s.

He was asleep by the time Melvin and Mrs. Moore came back from the banquet. She tried to pay me, but I said it was okay, that it was a favor for a friend, which made Melvin smile. It was near midnight by the time Brody came by and picked me up in his truck. I asked him if he wanted to stay the night at my place, but he said no.

I expected everyone in my house to be asleep, so I tiptoed through the hallways and up the stairs. My skin prickled and I couldn’t stop shivering all the way up. Like a whisper in my mind, I could feel that something was out of the ordinary, out of balance. When I opened my bedroom door, I realized what that was.

Bethany was sitting on my bed, a picture of my family in her spidery hands. I had to do a double take just to make sure it was actually her. Bethany was the catalyst for the sharp turn my life had taken, someone who inspired fear in my nightmares, and here she was in my bedroom.

Her right eye was gone, replaced with an empty gaping hole. Scars and bruises covered her face and body, silver blood pouring out of her scalp, and drying off on her chin. The veins of blood on her face caught some moonlight coming in through the window, making her face shimmer with an ethereal silver glow.

“We need to talk,” she said in a rumbling, baritone voice.

My feet were glued to the bedroom door. I considered how fast she was in comparison to me, and if I could make it into public streets before her knife dug itself in my back... but the picture she held in her hands was the checkmate that kept me from running. My family was asleep, and defenseless, just two rooms over. I couldn’t leave them under Bethany’s gaze without severe repercussions.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling.

A toothless grin spread across her wrinkled face like a knife cutting through leather. “Like I said, we need to talk. We do just that, no one gets hurt.”

“Fine.” In a burst of brave adrenaline, I walked forward, planted two feet into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. “No one gets hurt.”  

*

On a dinner tray, two slices of white bread sat on a porcelain plate beside two jars of jam and peanut butter. I took a knife, scooped out dollops of peanut butter and jam, and slathered them onto the bread. I made a diagonal slice through the sandwich.

“Cut off the crusts please,” Bethany said, still sitting on the bed, the gun in her hands pointing right at my face. I complied, cutting of the four sides, and then slid the dinner tray across the bedroom floor until it tapped her bare feet. I watched her eat the sandwich ravenously like a starved dog, wondering if I was going to get out of this encounter alive.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked.

“I know you tried to call Brody when you were in the kitchen,” she said, smacking her lips. “I hope for your sake you didn’t leave a message on his answering machine.”

“I didn’t,” I said, mentally smacking myself for not doing so. She continued to eat, and with each chew, her right eye socket’s muscles would wobble like a hollow piece of jello. “What happened to your eye?”

She burped, the sandwich finished. “Your boyfriend shot it out of my skull when I tried to kill you,” she said, almost as if her missing eye was my fault.

“Why did you try to kill me?”

I wasn’t sure for a second if she was going to answer, but she did, and with a creepy smile on her face. “I’m a soul catcher. I eat souls, just something that I do, and your soul smelt like a three course dinner. After weeks of tailing you, I figured you weren’t that important in the scheme of things, so I tried to eat your soul.” I found it odd how nonchalant she was with the words ‘eat your soul’. “Now I only have one eye, and my jaw clicks when I chew.”

“I’m sorry,” I said out of reflex, even though I wasn’t sorry at all.

“It’s okay,” she said, looking down at her pistol. “You can say ‘you deserved what you got, you fucking bitch’. I won’t shoot you. Like I said, just here to talk.”

“So talk,” I said, eager to have her leave as soon as possible.

Bethany leaned back a little, her arms propping her body up on my bed. “When I saw that you were connected to Brody Gallagher of all people, I knew there was something special about you,” she said. “So I’ve been following you for, wow, must be weeks now.”

“And you came here to tell me that you’ve been stalking me?”

“Smart mouth you got on you,” she said, waving her pistol around to remind me it was there. “No, I came because like you and everyone else, I’m not so keen on the idea of the world ending, so I thought I’d help, do a little investigating of my own. And you know what I found?” I shook my head. “Absolutely nothing, no signs of the end of days anywhere. Then I looked in Ellis Moore’s direction. You know what’s strange about Ellis Moore?” I shook my head again. “I can smell souls from here to China no matter how weak the source –and that’s not a brag but a fact- but I could not smell a thing on that Ellis Moore.”

“What, are you saying he doesn’t have a soul?” I asked, not believing what I was saying.

Bethany clapped her hands. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. For all intents and purposes, Ellis Moore doesn’t exist. He’s soulless, an abomination of man, like your half-breed boyfriend.” Before I could ask what Ellis’ soul had to do with anything, Bethany read my mind and said, “Do you think that maybe the End of Days is coming because Ellis was born?”

“If that’s the case...,” I said, trying to work my mind over the fact that souls actually do exist, and that the perfect eight-year-old boy didn’t have one, “Then there’s still nothing we can do.”

“Yes there is,” Bethany said. “You can kill him.”

I stood up. “I’m not killing a child.”

“No,” she said, as if it were obvious, “Of course not. I wonder though, if everyone is as conscious and... merciful as you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I have no intention of dirtying my hands over a boy who has no soul, even if it did mean saving the world. We all have our scruples. I’m just here to tell you that people can be very lenient when their lives are on the line.” She walked toward the window and opened it, but didn’t jump out right away. She turned to me with an unreadable expression. “I’ll see you again when the playing field has changed.”

In a flurry of gray matter, she shot out the window and into the night air. I ran over and shut the window as soon as she had fully disappeared. My back against the wall, I slid down to the floor, telling myself that she was just screwing with me, that Ellis really did have a soul, and that there was no reason to dwell on the fact any longer.

My dreams were unpleasant that night.

“Here’s the list of emergency contacts,” Mrs. Moore said, handing me the same sheet of paper like last time. “Tonight’s the second half of the banquet. Melvin simply can’t wait.”

“That’s nice,” I said.

“Dinner’s in the fridge like last time. Melvin, are you ready?”

I waved them goodbye and closed the front door with a definite thud. In the living room, Ellis was sitting on the same chair, holding the monopoly board against his chest. I sat on the ottoman a few feet away, and rubbed my face against my hands, wondering why I didn’t tell Brody about Bethany’s visit. What was wrong with me?

“Are you okay?” Ellis asked. I didn’t answer. I walked over, wrapped my hands around his neck, and squeezed. I could feel his muscles tense, see his eyes go bloodshot. I squeezed harder, wringing the life out of his tiny body.

He stopped moving.

I lifted my hands off his neck, watching in horror as my skin turned blood red and began to melt over the floor. Bird wings flapped in the distance.

“What have you done?” Brody asked. “You killed him.”

“I had to,” I pleaded. “I wanted to save you, I wanted to save everyone. He’s just one child. Now we can be together without any worries, together, until we’re old and dying.” I smiled. “Brody, we’re safe.”

Then I woke up. I called Brody, told him about the meeting with Bethany. He said it was going to be okay, that he’d take this information to his superiors, that they’d know what to do and that I didn’t have to think about it anymore. So I didn’t. I let all insidious thoughts flow out, and I calmed down.

Two days later, the doorbell rang. No one was home besides me, so I got out of bed, wandered down the hall in a daze, and opened the front door. Brody was on the other side. His face was covered in soot, and his hands were shaking. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“There was a fire at Melvin’s house,” he said in quick breaths. “Harbor... he’s dead. Melvin’s dead, his mom is dead and Ellis is missing.” 

*

Strange how random everything in my life seemed to be. At one moment, I’m telling Melvin he has a shot at a date with Alice Stevens, the next, I’m listening to his eulogy. When I thought about how he’d react to the situation, I smiled, knowing that he would just throw up his hands and say, “This is a real pickle I’ve gotten myself into, huh?”

As I watched Melvin’s casket being lowered into the earth, I realized that this was the second funeral I’d been to this year. The sun was out this time, though, and it was beating down on all the suits and ties as if gloating over its comparatively carefree existence.

Fuck the sun, I thought.

The wake was at an old-style country house with three floors. In the living room was a giant buffet line, full of fine foods and people. I coasted through the crowds. Melvin’s family all knew who I was, even though I didn’t know any of them. Apparently, he talked a lot about me.  

I met Brody in the backyard, at a rusted old swing set. We sat beside each other on the swings, floating over the ground, not really going anywhere. I stared up at the cloudless sky, the empty blue oblivion, and felt nothing but the cold. That was all I ever felt lately.

“People keep dying,” I said, just above a whisper.

Brody stared at me.

“I feel numb,” I said. “I don’t feel anything.” I pinched myself. “Why don’t I feel anything, Brody? My friend is...he’s dead. How come I can’t feel anything?”

I never got an answer, because before Brody could say anything, Bethany spoke first. “Because it would be a waste of time.” We both turned around and saw her standing a few feet away, dressed all in black. She was smiling. “I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Brody drew a pistol from the back of his pants, and trained it on her head. “Get out of here before I take out your other eye.”

She held up her hands. “There’s no need for that. I just came to tell you that you have a leak in your tight nit little organization. The White Crusaders found out about Ellis. They are the ones who burned his family alive and kidnapped him. They’re going to sacrifice him to their God during the next full moon.”

Brody’s gun wavered. “That’s tonight,” he said, a collective feeling of oh-shit kicking both of us in the stomach. “...fucking wait a minute. How do we even know you’re telling the truth? For all we know, you could have been the one who burned down the house.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here right now, telling you that if the kid dies, it could be the end of the world.”

This time I stepped forward. “You said if Ellis died, the world would be saved.”

“That’s right, but then I remembered back in the hospital, when your brother said Ellis was a godchild. Do you remember?” She gave me an expectant look, as if I was supposed to say ‘oh that’s right!’, but I was just confused, which made her frustrated. “I was there, listening in on your conversation, Harbor. He said Ellis was a godchild. Child of a God. If that’s true, that would explain why I didn’t sense a soul, because he’s not human. So, continuing on that line of thought, you stupid motherfuckers, if some religious zealots sacrifice the child of a god during a full moon, do you think that the god would be very happy?”

“So what would you have us do?” Brody asked, still gripping his gun. “Storm an entire complex full of people trained to kill creatures like us? Need I remind you that no one even knows where the White Crusader complex is?”

“I know,” she said. From inside her blouse she withdrew a crumpled sheet of paper. “I picked this off the corpse of one of their stupider henchmen.” Brody snatched the paper and un-crumpled it. It was a map of the state. A red marker had circled an area to the south, miles outside of the city.

“If I’m going to follow through on this info,” Brody said, still wary, “I’m going to need back up.”

“Your team can’t be trusted,” she said. “Where do you think the leak came from?”

“Shut up.” He shot back, furiously scratching the back of his head. “Goddamit...I can’t do this alone.”

Bethany looked confused. “Why are you being such a pussy? We do this tonight, or we all die. Simple as that, there’s no grey area to retreat to. It’s now or never.”

Brody looked over at me for a second opinion.

“These bastards killed Melvin,” I said. My teeth were gritting, my body full of a rage I hadn’t ever experienced before, like I was in the trenches, ready to jump out into a hail of bullets. “I say we do this. Besides, it’s the end of the world. We’re dead either way...”

“...why not die in a blaze of glory.” Brody finished. He started laughing, feeling the same ‘we’re all gonna die’ high I was feeling. He shrugged. “Fuck it. Let’s gut these bastards.”

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