Authors: Chris Adrian
The Great Night (21 page)
“Or to the center of the earth!” said another.
“To the moon!” said a round bubble of fur.
“There is no way out,” said a tall one, who looked like a librarian made out of leather. “The walls of air hold us all here, and death is our only escape!”
“Hear, hear!” said Huff, knocking louder on the lady's helmet. “Order, order! You are all suffering from a delusion! You are thinking just what he wants you to think!”
“Knock softly, my love,” said the woman, catching his hand.
“Excuse me,” said Huff, surveying the nervous creatures again as they gathered closer. He squinted at them, and saw them not as furniture or bee people but as Furniture and stagehands and a chorus. “Do any of them,” he asked the lady, “belong to the Mayor?”
“They are my people,” she said. “And my former husband's people, but he is gone. Only the beastly are with the Beast, and only those who love death would serve him.”
“So they can all be trusted?”
“They will all serve you,” she said, “because they serve me. What is your will, my love? There is time for us to delight you, before the Beast returns to consummate my defeat.”
“Defeat? Don't talk like
defeat
,” Huff said, stroking her helmet now. “Don't talk like
death
. Don't talk like any of that. Does this come off?” He chucked her on the chinstrap, and she lifted a hand to undo it. The helmet fell softly on the grass
and rolledânot like a head, he thought. Like a luscious apple. “I want to bring down the Mayor,” he said, catching a handful of the lady's hair and cradling the back of her head and zooming in for a kiss. “And I want you to help me.” He kissed her, and the murmuring crowd fell silent. A little man came running forward when Huff did that, waving a sharpened twig, and though he was very small, Huff still cowered from him, raising his arms up over his face. But before the blow could fall, the lady bent swiftly, picked the little man up by his neck, and held him up at eye level. “I thought you said we could trust them,” Huff said.
defeat
,” Huff said, stroking her helmet now. “Don't talk like
death
. Don't talk like any of that. Does this come off?” He chucked her on the chinstrap, and she lifted a hand to undo it. The helmet fell softly on the grass
and rolledânot like a head, he thought. Like a luscious apple. “I want to bring down the Mayor,” he said, catching a handful of the lady's hair and cradling the back of her head and zooming in for a kiss. “And I want you to help me.” He kissed her, and the murmuring crowd fell silent. A little man came running forward when Huff did that, waving a sharpened twig, and though he was very small, Huff still cowered from him, raising his arms up over his face. But before the blow could fall, the lady bent swiftly, picked the little man up by his neck, and held him up at eye level. “I thought you said we could trust them,” Huff said.
“He thought you were disrespecting me,” she said, and frowned at the little man, and gave him a shake. His tiny head was turning purple where it poked out of her fist.
“I meant no disrespect,” Huff said.
“I know it, my love. Kiss me again.”
“I'd like to,” Huff said. “But the time for kissing is past. In a little while, I'll kiss you again, but until then, there's work to do.” He turned his attention to the purple-headed man. “Listen, you,” he said. “Your loyalties are all confused. You don't want to be working for the Mayor. He's bad, through and through, and whatever he promised you, he won't deliver. Did he say he would make you tall? Was that it? Did he promise you a tiny lady? A hundred tiny ladies? A thousand tiny virgins? My man, he's just
talking.
But look, there's always one more chance to be good. Will you swear him off, and swear us on instead?” The lady squeezed him a little tighter, but still he managed just barely to nod his head. “All right, then,” Huff said. “What's your name?” The lady put him down, and it took him a few tries to gasp it out.
talking.
But look, there's always one more chance to be good. Will you swear him off, and swear us on instead?” The lady squeezed him a little tighter, but still he managed just barely to nod his head. “All right, then,” Huff said. “What's your name?” The lady put him down, and it took him a few tries to gasp it out.
“Bench,” he said.
“Okay, Bench. I've got a job for you. Will you do it?”
“As my Lady wills,” he said.
“That's the spirit,” Huff said. “And here's your job. It won't be easy. The park is very big, and you are very small, but I need you to find somebody for me. I need you to find my friend. If we can't find her, the Mayor has as good as won. She's about this high, and her hair is gray and curly, and you'll probably find her sitting like this.” He dropped to the ground and splayed his legs like Princess did. The lady settled down gently next to him, very softly even in her long coat of mail.
“I smell her on you,” the little man said.
“There you go,” Huff said. “Can you find her? Forgive me, but is it too
big
a job?”
big
a job?”
“Even if the Beast has mauled her, I'll bring the pieces,” he said. He made a curlicue gesture at Huff, bowed to the lady, and scampered off.
“One down!” said Huff, to everybody, and then to the lady, “but there are three more, and I need three more helpers. Who else do you trust?”
“I trust them all,” she said. “They will all obey me unto death.”
“Well, that's an extreme arrangement,” Huff said. “How about you pick us a few who are obedient just about
up
to death? Let them hesitate, and wonder if the cause is just, before they do anything drastic.” She cocked her head, and signaled without looking to three more to come forward, a puffball and the bee and the librarian. “Names, please,” said Huff.
up
to death? Let them hesitate, and wonder if the cause is just, before they do anything drastic.” She cocked her head, and signaled without looking to three more to come forward, a puffball and the bee and the librarian. “Names, please,” said Huff.
“Nemnaut,” said the puffball.
“Kusaka,” said the bee.
“Nilo,” said the librarian.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “Here are your assignments. Bob: about so high, he frowns a lot and he's wearing a plaid shirt. Hogg: nothing like a pig, long brown hair, big shoes. Mary: sometimes contrary, more often quite agreeable, her bottom is
huge.
Have you got them?” They all sniffed at him, and bowed,
and then they were gone. “Away you go!” he called after them. “Now what?” he said to the ones who remained. He took the lady's handsâthey were much larger than his, but much softer, though her nails, he noticed, were serrated like the edges of steak knives. “Now comes the hard part. I'm sorry everyone, but I'm afraid we've got a lot of work to do, if we're going to turn things around. I know it seems like the Mayor has us right where he wants us, trapped with him in his own private Disneyland, but in fact he's the one who's trapped. Well, not yetâbut soon!” He made the round of eyes again, smiling at them all in turn, even at the mouthless ones who couldn't smile back, and though he felt a little dispirited, he didn't show it. Such a motley crew, and probably none of them had ever acted before, or even seen the movie, and they hardly had the time or the resources now for a screening. The seconds were ticking away. Huff knew from experience that you could distract yourself with a pair of underwear for only so many hours, and they had weeks of work to cram into this nightâthe shortest one, as it happened, of the whole year. He sighed expansively but made himself smile wider at them, though the effort hurt his face. “We are going to trap him, you see”âhe had turned his strained smile to the lady, and her face distracted himâ“with his own conscience ⦔ She was staring at him both lovingly and blankly, a combination Huff had never seen in any of his previous wives or girlfriends. “With music.” He started suddenly, realizing that he was holding her hands. “Soylent Green, you see, isâwere you going to say something, Ma'am?”
huge.
Have you got them?” They all sniffed at him, and bowed,
and then they were gone. “Away you go!” he called after them. “Now what?” he said to the ones who remained. He took the lady's handsâthey were much larger than his, but much softer, though her nails, he noticed, were serrated like the edges of steak knives. “Now comes the hard part. I'm sorry everyone, but I'm afraid we've got a lot of work to do, if we're going to turn things around. I know it seems like the Mayor has us right where he wants us, trapped with him in his own private Disneyland, but in fact he's the one who's trapped. Well, not yetâbut soon!” He made the round of eyes again, smiling at them all in turn, even at the mouthless ones who couldn't smile back, and though he felt a little dispirited, he didn't show it. Such a motley crew, and probably none of them had ever acted before, or even seen the movie, and they hardly had the time or the resources now for a screening. The seconds were ticking away. Huff knew from experience that you could distract yourself with a pair of underwear for only so many hours, and they had weeks of work to cram into this nightâthe shortest one, as it happened, of the whole year. He sighed expansively but made himself smile wider at them, though the effort hurt his face. “We are going to trap him, you see”âhe had turned his strained smile to the lady, and her face distracted himâ“with his own conscience ⦔ She was staring at him both lovingly and blankly, a combination Huff had never seen in any of his previous wives or girlfriends. “With music.” He started suddenly, realizing that he was holding her hands. “Soylent Green, you see, isâwere you going to say something, Ma'am?”
“I love you,” she said. “My liege, my own mortal joy.”
Will didn't notice the lady until she had moved almost to the head of the line. He was piling up a sundae for one of his classmates, a fat boy with diabetes who was enormously popular despite his two social hits of obesity and disease. Craning her head around his classmate's bulk, the lady peered at Will impatiently, and looked at the fat boy like he had no right to be ahead of her in line and no right to eat ice cream. Will tried to ignore her. People stared all the time, as if that would make you serve them faster, though more than half the time the ones that glared the hardest at you still had no idea what they wanted when they made it to the head of the line. As he scooped Butter Cookie on top of Oscar's Wilde on top of Deadly Chocolate Orgasm for his classmate, he caught glimpses of her as she stared at him, and noticed her orange lipstick and too-smooth forehead and very soft-looking hair. These were elements common to a particular type of lady in his town, a wealthy, spiritless suburb of Orlando, and when his classmate shambled off and Will turned to take her order he was expecting her to be nothing special, the sort of facelift on
top of a Talbot's dress that he and his coworker Lauren made fun of in the back all the time.
top of a Talbot's dress that he and his coworker Lauren made fun of in the back all the time.
“Crepuscular Rays,” she said. “Really?”
“Pardon?” Will said.
“That's the gayest thing I've ever heard,” she said.
“Our owner is a latter-day Willy Wonka, “Will said, because that was what they were supposed to say anytime anyone remarked on the names of the ice cream, though Thom, the owner, had in mind when he trained his employees that people would be saying that the names were creative and fascinating instead of stupid or pretentious or twee, which they were.
“This town,” the lady said, shaking her head and setting her earrings to jangling. Will had her pegged for Deadly Chocolate Orgasm because that was what all the middle-aged ladies ordered, but she settled on plain strawberry after tasting Crepuscular Rays and making a face. When she took the ice cream she made a point of touching him, which a lot of the middleaged ladies did, laying her fingers on the inside of his wrist before she drew her hand back to capture the cone and bring it immediately to her lips. With ice cream on her face, she handed him a hundred-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. Then she walked away, out of the store and onto the street, not looking back at all, though the middle-aged ladies usually did that too when they came in alone for ice cream, throwing a glance over the shoulder to see if he was watching them leave.
Lauren scrutinized the bill after they closed, holding it up with both hands to the fluorescent light and even touching a corner of it to her tongue before pronouncing it real.
“She only tipped you like that because she wants to fuck you,” she said, when he proposed that they split it. “I don't want any part of that. Fuck money is bad luck.”
“Don't be stupid,” he said. “She didn't want to sleep with me.”
“They all want to fuck you,” Lauren said, explaining as they cleaned up that she meant not just the poor little rich ladies of Winter Park but the whole adult world. She wasn't any older than Will, and was almost as friendless at school, and her prospects weren't any brighter than hisâlike him she was a junior with middling SAT scores and grades barely good enough to get into college at Gainesvilleâbut she liked to lecture him at closing time. She thought he was naïve, and said all the time that he would come to a bad end if he didn't do something about his optimism and trust in strangers.
“I hate everybody,” he said.
“No, you don't,” she said. “
I
hate everybody. You're just a poseur.” She didn't protest anymore, though, when he offered again to split the tip. With the rest of what was in the jar they each had seventy-eight dollars.
I
hate everybody. You're just a poseur.” She didn't protest anymore, though, when he offered again to split the tip. With the rest of what was in the jar they each had seventy-eight dollars.
He stole a pint of Cookie Galore for his mother before he locked the store. He might have paid for it if Lauren hadn't talked her shit; he wanted to show her that he hated Thom and the way he strove for excellence in his ice cream and the way he took sprinkles as seriously as the plague. If there were a way to craft them individually, millimeter by millimeter, Will was sure Thom would do it. As it was he ran them through a colander several times a day to eliminate the clumps, saying every time, “No one wants their sprinkles to look like cat litter.”
“I waited up for you,” Will's mother said when he got home. It was hardly after ten, but she never finished drinking until after midnight. His father was flying a trip to San Diego and would be gone for two days because of the layover. She hadn't eaten, so Will made her a sandwich and sat with her while she failed to eat it. “What do you suppose he's up to?” she asked, because his father hadn't answered when she called the hotel.
“Probably out having a sandwich,” Will said, pushing her
sandwich closer to her. “It's dinnertime in San Diego.” His mother always accused his father of having all sorts of wild fun on his layovers: erotic massage from small-footed Asian ladies in San Francisco, Donkey Shows in Tijuana, and naked hottubbing with the stewardesses in Chicago. His father denied it all, and had confided to Will that he didn't dare even go out to dinner with the crew most nights for fear of raising his mother's jealous mistrust.
sandwich closer to her. “It's dinnertime in San Diego.” His mother always accused his father of having all sorts of wild fun on his layovers: erotic massage from small-footed Asian ladies in San Francisco, Donkey Shows in Tijuana, and naked hottubbing with the stewardesses in Chicago. His father denied it all, and had confided to Will that he didn't dare even go out to dinner with the crew most nights for fear of raising his mother's jealous mistrust.
“She ruins everything,” he'd said. “Even from three thousand miles away, she ruins everything.”
“She really loves you,” Will had said, because his mother said that to Will, just as his father said the same thing during his own drunken complaints and confessions, and Will thought they loved each other more than they detested each other because it was the love that came out, in blubbering tears, in their very deepest drunks, and Will believed that people were most honest when they were most drunk.
His mother dialed his father again on the cordless phone, letting it ring and ring for the course of half a cigarette, while her eyes got heavier and heavier until she closed them and seemed to be sleeping, with the phone still chirping mutedly at her cheek and the cigarette ash lengthening at her mouth. “Asshole,” she said finally, opening her eyes and hanging up and putting out her cigarette. “Why does he have to be such an asshole?” she asked Will directly, setting her face in a way that made her look as sad as she was angry. Will tried to reproduce it sometimes, staring in the mirror and raising his eyebrows while he frowned. When Sean caught him doing it once he told Will his face was going to get stuck that way if he wasn't careful.
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