Lick Your Neighbor (28 page)

“You must understand,” John pleaded, “I did it for us. Eternity is a long time. How would we have passed the time? Board games? Cooking classes? Staring into the middle distance? I know that our lives have been miserable, and filled with folly and wickedness, but misery is better than boredom right? At least we had a purpose. A common foe to blame our sorrows on. What was the alternative? No evil to fight, no purpose to guide us, no agenda. Chaos! Please don’t be cross with me.”

“Cross with you?” Bradford shook his head. “We’re not cross with you, John.”

“Really? Phew.”

“We’re fobbing pissed!” Bradford shouted. “Let’s fill this arsehole with lead!”

“But I gave you a gift too!” John cried. “The gift of hope. Don’t you see? I did what God Himself would have done!”

Standish and the Reverend opened fire on Alden, pumping his chest full of bullets as fast they could pump their shotguns.

John waved his hands. “Ouch! Ouch! Stop! Stop it! You know how much that stings!”

“Enough,” Bradford said. “What’s the use? We can’t kill him as long as we’re all still cursed.”

Bradford took the sword out of the ninja’s hand and held it to Eberly’s throat.

“Prepare to meet the Dark Lord, witch!”

“Wait! Didn’t you hear what I just said? I gave you a gift!”

“Ha! Some gift.” The Reverend raised his rifle, taking aim at Eberly. “What about our freakish firstborn sons? Do you call them a gift too?”

“I only did that so you’d each have a small, constant reminder of what happened to the Auwaog. And because, well…” Eberly barely repressed a smirk. “I thought it would be funny. But that was the old me!”

“Using mutant children as reminders?” Standish also took aim. “Oh you are a dead man, Eberly.”

“But if I die now terrible things will happen,” Eberly warned. “There was a ripple effect to the spell I cast and I need some time to set everything straight. Just one more spell and everything will be as it was.”

“You’ve tricked us for the last time, witch,” said Bradford. “This time, you die. I’d say ‘May God have mercy on your soul,’ but I truly hope He doesn’t. Any last words?”

“Fine then. If you won’t listen to me, then fire away. I have lived long and well, and I am ready to die. I’ll let you fools deal with the mess that I created. Look at that, I’m acting more human already! And I do have some last words. You don’t live as long as I have and not have a few words of wisdom to leave behind.” Eberly cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, the secret to life and happiness is simple. First and foremost, that stick that God shoved up your asses? Pull it out. Thus unencumbered, feel free to roam through this majestic country of yours. Climb the mountains, run along the valleys, beaches, and plains, swim in the lakes, and always fight the good fight, while remembering that a part of you, no matter how hard you and everyone around you tries to kill it, is just as wild and beautiful as a wolf howling at the moon. And finally, as hard as it may sometimes be, always love your nei—hang on, what that’s in the distance. By the tree line. Looks like a…catapult? Who are they kidding. They couldn’t hit an elephant at this dis—”

A rock, falling from high in the sky and at great speed, smashed into Eberly’s head, sending him flying backwards. He was out cold before he even hit the ground.

* * *

Back by the catapult, Randy was hysterical.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no! I missed the naked witch! I killed Dale! Oh I am fortune’s fool!”

“I thought you said you could hit a target the size of my nostril from here?” Pookie asked.

“It was the wind! It shifted! Didn’t you feel the shift?”

“Not really.”

“It was slight. Almost as if God sighed. But it was enough to throw off my calculations. That’s what happens when one’s calculations are so
precise
. Down to the fifth decimal place!”

“What calculations?” Pookie asked. “All you did was lick your finger and hold it up in the air.”

“We gotta get down there, Pook. Fast. Dale could be bleeding to death.”

“Right. Even though I’m wearing these massive shoes, I can run pretty fast.”

“Are you kidding? It would take an eternity to run all the way over there. We don’t have that kind of time, man!” Randy hopped into the catapult basket. “Launch me.”

“Have you gone madder than usual?”

“Do it, clown, or I’ll launch you!”

Pookie put his hand on the lever. “This is a terrible idea.”

“It’s not an idea. It’s a plan, Pook.”

“A worst laid plan.”

“Well since it’s the
best
laid plans of mice and men that oft go awry, then this should work perfectly.”

“It’s your funeral. Any last words?”

Randy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “I…I…can’t think of anything. Look, if I die, make something up for me. Tell people I said something funny. There’s nothing worse than people getting all gloom and doomy at the end of the road. Make it light, make it funny, and make it memorable, damn you!”

“Don’t put that responsibility on me!”

“You will do as I say, clown! Or so help me Saint Burloga I will come back and I will haunt you!. Ghost Tinker! Every time you lay down with a woman I will crawl in bed with you and I will be
naked
! Try getting your shriveled plums off with a naked ghost moaning in your ear! Like this! Ooooooo. Ooooooo. Oooouuuuu!”

And with that, Randy was launched high into the sky.

* * *

John Alden jumped down out of the tree. With everybody gathered behind him, he bent down over Eberly’s still body. Just above his eye, there was a huge welt in his head where the rock had hit.

“Mr. Ely? Mr. Ely? Are you dead?” John asked, “I think he’s really dead.”

“That means we’re free,” Bradford said. “Free at last!”

The Reverend lifted his arms to the sky. “Praise the Lord! For He is good again!”

Bradford, Standish, and the Reverend all broke out into a happy jig, the first time they had done so since February 20th, 1621. Their mutant sons joined in, and they all had themselves a proper hoedown.

With their arms and knees pumping away, Bradford, Standish, and the Reverend all sang.

With a jingle, bang jingle, bang jingle, bang jingle

With a jingle, bang, jingle, bang jingle, hi ho!

Hi ho?

Hi ho!

Hi ho, hi ho, hi ho!

“Freeze, jingle bangers! Duxbury Police!”

The dancing and singing came to an abrupt halt as everyone turned to see Officers Ainsworth, Truax, and Gilly standing in front of the Cadillac, guns drawn. Truax had one arm around the bruised and battered Gilly, helping him to not fall over.

“I want those weapons on the ground, and everybody’s hands in the air,” Ainsworth barked. “Anyone tries something funny, and you’re all dead men.”

“What should we do?” Bradford whispered. “Should we take them out?”

“I don’t see why not,” Standish whispered back. “If the curse has been lifted, and they fire, then we’re dead. Which is what we’ve been trying to do for three hundred years anyway. If the curse hasn’t been lifted, then they can’t kill us, and we can blast them to hell. Either way, it’s better than going to jail.”

“Agreed.” Bradford nodded. “On three we let them have it. One, two–”

“Incoming!” Dale shouted, pointing at the sky.

Impossibly, in an already impossible day, a chubby man was hurtling through the air toward them at a ridiculous speed.

Randy slammed into William Bradford with such force that he took out everyone in range as well. Standish, the Reverend, Alden, and the beakmen all went down like bowling pins, their weapons flying out of their hands and onto the ground. In the distance could be heard the faint sound of a clown shouting, “Bull’s-eye!”

When the dust had settled, the only armed men were the cops.

Officer Gilly, propped up against the tree, provided cover with his gun while Truax cuffed everyone. Ainsworth knelt down over Randy, who lay spread eagle on the grass.

“You okay, pal?” he asked.

“What were my last words?” Randy mumbled. “Were they something like ‘Either these mutants go, or I do’? Or do I have to get freaky spooky with the clown?”

“Poor guy. Brain damage.”

Ainsworth moved over to Jasper Eberly, who was face down and motionless. Ainsworth felt for a pulse. “He’s alive. Barely.”

“No! That can’t be!” Bradford shouted.

“Truax, radio for an ambulance. Get some back-up out here too.”

“What should I tell them?”

“Tell them we have two men in need of medical attention, at least one with severe head trauma,” Ainsworth replied. He glanced over at Dale, who was sitting on the ground with one of the farmer’s hats covering his balls. “And tell them that we have several suspects in the deaths of Mayflower Jenkins and Gobbling Gus.”

“What should I, uh, say about the beaks?” Truax asked.

“You might want to leave that part out.”

“Right.”

“After you’re done with that, go fetch Mrs. Alden out of the cruiser. There’s an innocent man here who looks like he could use a hug.”

“Right, got it.”

Truax knelt down and wrapped his arms around Dale.

“Shhhhhhhhh. It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” Truax murmured, gently rocking Dale back and forth.

“Not from you, from his wife!”

Hairy arms round me

Saying “hush little baby.”

Damnit I’m a man!

16
A New World

Excerpt from the diary of John Alden

February 20, 1621

Leaving the Eberly Turkey tied to a tree, Bradford, Standish, the Reverend, and I walked into the village armed with our fowling pieces, muskets, and a satchel of ammunition each. The sun was about to rise, and our guns were raised, but there was not a solitary Savage in sight.

“Split up,” said Captain Standish. “Take up position around the perimeter of the village. When the turkeys come out of the huts aim well, and kill every last one of them.”

The village was completely silent. It seemed as if the Auwaog had deserted the place. All I could hear was the thumping of my own heart and the voice in my head which screamed at me to run from that unholy place.

Then I saw something. A fledging bird stumbled out of one of the Auwaog homes. If the village had not been so silent and so still, I never would have noticed such a tiny animal. But there it was, and I was spellbound. Such a helpless, fragile creature, venturing out into the madness of the world. How brave. How hopeful. How stupid.

A shot range out and the baby bird was blown to pieces.

“Got him!” shouted Bradford. “Ha! Killing these stupid birds is going to so easy, even a dewberry could do it!”

And then, chaos. Hundreds of Turkeys exploded out of the Indian’s homes like bats out of a cave. At first they swarmed in every direction, swirling around the village, darting this way and that at impossible speeds. The sound of them knifing through the air and buzzing overhead was almost as loud as the screams from before.

We fired into the Turkey swarm as fast as we could load our weapons, and many birds fell. With the quickness, their bodies piled up on the ground and on top of the huts. Some flopped around wounded, but many were killed in the instant.

If they had continued flying around the village as they were, even though their number was great, we would have been able to kill them all in short time. But that was not to be. All at once the Turkey swarm suddenly scattered into the woods. Like the ripples from a rock thrown into the water, they fled in every direction. We each pursued them into the forest as far as we could, shooting and killing as we ran, but it was hopeless. The birds flew faster than we could ever run, and they scattered so thoroughly that it was like chasing sand in the wind.

I returned to the village to find Captain Standish sitting on a pile of dead turkeys with his head in his hands.

“Captain,” I said, “what do we do now? What’s the plan?”

“Plan, John? You want to know the plan? There is no fobbing plan. We’re cooked.”

“There is another way out of this,” said Bradford. “It came to me just now. All we have to do is kill Jasper Eberly, and the spell shall be lifted.”

“Of course!” the Reverend exclaimed. “The highest witch authority known to Man, Francesco Maria Guazzo himself, wrote that the truest way to lift a spell is to burn the witch who cast it. And once the spell has been lifted, we shall owe nothing to Satan. Oh we are saved!”

“But if the spell is lifted,” I said, “the Auwaog will transform into Savages once again. Then we shall be right back where we started.”

“John, you are truly a loggerheaded clack-dish,” said Bradford, “Do you not see the piles of dead fowl around you? Their number has been greatly reduced. They will not be nearly as formidable a foe when they return. Oh yes, Eberly shall burn and all shall be well. Now let us celebrate with a dance. A manly dance! Huzzah!”

While they danced, my mind was elsewhere. It was on Eberly. We had given him our word that his life would be spared, and yet now we were going to betray him. I decided that I could not let him die. Killing a horde of strange men and women was one thing, but killing a man who I had called my friend? I could never live with myself after doing such a rank deed.

While the others continued to dance, I acted. I left the Auwaog village and returned to the tree where the Eberly Turkey was. I untied him, and the bird immediately flapped his strong wings and took flight. As he hovered in the air, a few feet above my head, he looked down and spoke.

“Thank you, John.”

“You’re welcome.”

The turkey started to fly away but then stopped and turned to me again.

“Oh and just so you know, all that scut about you having to kill the Auwaog was, well, a lie.”

“But you said we would be cursed, Ely.”

“Oh you are most certainly cursed, John. But it is I who has cursed you and those foot-licking friends of yours. Not Satan. Do you really think that a little speck of nothing like me could ask a god, whether he be Good or Evil, for a favor? Ha!”

“But why, Ely? Why curse us?”

“Why? Because this Land and I are the same. We are wild, we are beautiful, and we are free. All things which you and your kind will take from us. I tried making everyone on the Mayflower sick, thinning out your numbers, but what good will that do? More of you will come. So now I have done this deed for the Auwaog. I have saved a small piece of this beautiful Land from the cages and leashes you will use to master it. The Auwaog are free to live as they please. As am I! And as for you, your curse is life. For what better curse for a miserable dewberry than more time to be miserable?”

“But this is a New World, Ely. A vast untouched continent. Surely there will be enough room here for everyone to do exactly as they please. Room for some People and Lands to be wild and beautiful and others to be tame and…dull. Perhaps this New World is the Almighty’s final gift to his flock. Our last chance to get it right.”

“Ha! Be sure to get in touch with me when people start getting it right, John. Until then I choose to live my life as a bird, eating worms and pooping on rocks. Tis a far more nobler pursuit than living with the likes of you.”

And then the Eberly turkey flew off at a great speed, quickly disappearing into the thick trees. And I was left alone, the betrayed and the betrayer, with no hope of salvation. For my fate lies not with God, and not with Satan, but in the hands of one man.

And that is the most horrifying thing I have ever known. Because I know that the one man is me.

—John Alden