Dirty Eden (4 page)
“What carriage?”
“Every three days,” the creature began, “one of the carriages passes through this area of the field.”
The mysterious voice added, “You may cross the field safely as long as you do not touch it for more than a brief moment.”
“Let them cross the field alone,” said yet another voice to my right. “Let them die.”
“No,” said another, “the man must get across safely.”
“Treacherous. Vile.”
“Then allow them passage.”
“They will still have to go through the field.”
I was going out of my mind. Voices everywhere. Behind me. In front of me. Above me.
“He is strong enough.”
“He is different from the others.”
Finally, I saw one of them. The bark of a nearby tree moved like skin, rebelling against the natural backdrop of branches and moss. I noticed then that everything was moving, all around me, everywhere; the creatures perfectly camouflaged with the forest. My eyes felt drunk.
I tried not to show fear, though at any second I was going to run away screaming like a girl out into the field. “Well, how many days until this carriage comes back?”
“It should arrive tomorrow,” the creature in front of me said, “at this time when the heat is at its greatest.”
“Good, then Tsaeb and I will camp out here for the night...o-over there where it seems you don’t mind he stands. If that’s alright.”
She nodded in answer and then reached out, touching the side of my face.
“You have questions, I see,” she said, smiling at me.
Her face was long and square with giant, black eyes.
“Y-yes, I guess I do, but....”
“Many years ago,” she began, “my kin and me once lived in that field when it was beautiful, full of flowers and trees, even wonderful streams of water. But then something happened, something dark. Evil.” She paused and one of the voices continued for her: “That darkness consumed us,” it said, “everything that once lived here, and we were cursed by its evil.”
“We were not always as we are now,” the visible creature went on, looking down as though the memory troubled her. “We had only one form....”
“You were once human?”
She wrinkled her eerie face, quietly offended, and this was when I notice her antennae.
“No...I was cursed with human attributes.”
“Unforgivable.”
“Vile.”
“Blasphemous!”
She turned away and her long, straw-like legs bent further at the knees so she was level with me.
I may never have known much when it came to women, but I learned a long time ago that when one ever talks badly about herself, that I should either A) look stunned and tell her how wrong she is or, B) masterfully change the subject and look as though your mind had been off somewhere else all along. Now in this case option ‘A’ would be awkward because...well, she wasn’t even human and I would have no idea how to craft an effective lie, but ‘B’ is
always
risky and should be approached with extreme caution. You can’t look like you’re trying to find a way around having to resort to option ‘A’, and if you pause even half a second too long, she will immediately take offense.
Dilemma.
“Do you sleep up there?” I dove right into option ‘B’. “In those cocoons?”
The creature cocked her head to one side.
“No,” she said.
And her answer seemed to have nothing left to it.
“Come,” she urged taking my hand. “I’ll take you to the tree.”
I followed hesitantly, looking back at Tsaeb once with that be-right-back expression. I hoped it would prove to be an accurate expression.
“I’ll just wait here,” Tsaeb shouted disdainfully. “I don’t like your stupid forest anyway!”
In minutes, we came upon an enormous hollowed-out tree, the entrance descending underground into darkness. Fireflies dotted the blackness out ahead, lazily floating amid the cool air. Strange insects with shiny backs and sharp pincers slithered, crawled, and slinked through the soil and the maze-like roots buried in the ground and along the walls.
We turned one thin corner and stepped into a room. The dirt walls were lined all around by rickety wooden shelves, stuffed with junk: a lantern with a cracked globe, a box of crayons, a pair of sneakers, books, glass trinkets, a violin, neatly folded clothes, jewelry, a hair brush full of matted blond hair. The shelf on the left had a few chocolate bars, small bags of potato chips and mini cookie packets, cans of soda and a stack of old newspapers.
“Where’d all this stuff come from?”
“Travelers,” she answered. “Travelers like you that pass through—Trade an item for an item.”
Curious, I went first to the shelf with the newspapers. 1954. 1961. 1987. New York. Chicago. Boston. London.
“That’s odd....”
My interest grew as a tiny box of coins caught my eye, hundreds of them with unique uneven cuts and distinct Roman art. I wondered what other ancient treasures this room contained, but knew that priceless history would probably not help me on this journey. I needed survival items.
“You may trade for anything you see in this room.”
I rummaged through the first shelf and then turned to her holding up a lighter.
“Any particular method for trade?” Shaking the lighter near my ear, I tested the amount of fluid it contained. “Do I have to trade something small for something small, or
—
”
“Whatever trade you wish,” she said. “One thing for another.”
The grinding
snap
of the lighter was brief, like the flame it produced. I snuffed it out quickly to keep from wasting any of the fluid.
I slipped the lighter in the pocket of my slacks and took off my tie as trade. I traded my suit jacket for a pocketknife, my belt for a box of cheese crackers. Digging deep in my pockets I found a few worthless things, but one thing for another here knew no sense of fair price. A paperclip for an old, ragged backpack. A quarter for a used tube of antibiotic ointment. A cough drop wrapper for a stick of beef jerky. An old pink Post-It note that had been through the wash dozens of times, for a tiny can of fruit punch juice. A newspaper clipping of the employment section, where I circled an office job at a real estate agency, for one of the cookie packets. Then I found the note given to me by the woman in the alley. I didn’t care to read it again, so I tossed it on a shelf and traded it for a pair of hedge clippers.
I placed all of my new things in the ragged backpack and pitched it over my shoulder. Looking down at my fancy watch, I contemplated. It still worked; the minute hand still ticked and went round and round. I wondered if time was the same here.
“And what will you trade that for?” she said so sweetly.
Looking back at the shelves, I scanned over the same things again just to be sure. I had inadequate food, but food nonetheless. I had drinkable liquid, tools and fire.
“I think I’ll just keep the watch.”
The creature’s mysterious smile abandoned her.
“So then you have all you need?”
“Well, I...Yes, I guess I do.” I was unsure because of the subtle, enigmatic quality of her questions. “I appreciate your help.”
She nodded.
“It’s about damn time,” said Tsaeb as we made our way back.
“You sure have a foul mouth for a kid,” I said. “If you were my kid, you’d be grounded for life.”
“Well, I’m not exactly a kid.”
“I know, and maybe you’ll humor me sometime with the truth.” I turned back to the creature. “Thanks again.”
“You are most welcome,” she said, extending her awkwardly long arm and pointing. “The carriage will come from the south. Be ready, for it will not stop if it does not see you, and will not wait if you take your time.”
“Noted.”
And just like that, she slinked away through the forest.
In a way, I hated to see her go and knew that if not for Tsaeb she might have been inclined to hang around longer, maybe to help give me some idea about why I was here. I watched until her form glided into a slither of darkness, but my pondering about her was quickly interrupted.
“The truth?” said Tsaeb. “I never told you I was a kid, you just assumed.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Well then what are you?”
I set my backpack against a tree and then joined it, stretching my legs out in front of me, feet crossed below. A crow cawed somewhere in the distance.
“I’m a demon of Greed.”
That certainly caught my attention.
“Yeah, a demon, but wasn’t it obvious?”
“No,” I admitted. “I thought maybe you sold your soul or something, but....”
Tsaeb laughed.
“I did, well sort of.”
I waited straight-faced, because nothing about selling one’s soul was funny.
“Let’s just say I
lost
my soul and now here I am.” Tsaeb smiled a huge, toothy smile.
He moved toward my bag then. “Watcha got?” He reached out, but I covered the backpack with my arm.
“Hands off,” I demanded. “I have absolutely no reason to trust you.”
“Awww, come on, Norman. I need you to help me. I’m not going to do anything that will keep you from doing your job.”
“We’ll see.”
~~~
The squeaking of carriage wheels and the clatter of unknown objects woke me from my dreamless sleep. The heat was high; the elusive ball of fire at its most powerful, somewhere in the sky. I wondered how I could have slept so long, outside with my head against a lumpy backpack and roots jabbing my ribs. I couldn’t recall once waking up to roll over or to complain about the discomfort. Only now, as I stood to make the carriage on time, did I feel the pain in my muscles and bones. Tsaeb was already awake, lingering at the border of the field, the sun’s rays beaming down upon his golden hair.
“It’s here,” said Tsaeb, waving toward the carriage approaching from the south.
Holding my back with one hand, I bent over and took up my backpack with the other, moaning under my breath with the effort.
The carriage drew near, bumbling on its big wooden wheels and with the familiar sound of horse’s hooves trotting against the earth. An old cackling voice said, “Move along, move along!”
In moments, the decrepit black carriage drawn by two white horses came to a stop. The driver wore a tattered black robe, the hood resting against his back. The passenger area was covered and the only way inside was through a single rickety door. I realized that pots and swords, lanterns and other various things dangling from rusty nails and hooks were what had made the clanking noises I heard on its approach.
“Headin’ to Fiedel City?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, stepping up. “Where does this carriage go?”
“Fiedel City, you coot. All roads go to Fiedel City.”
The carriage driver coughed a hacking, sickly cough and failed to cover his mouth. I drew back, my face stretching with disgust.
“Then why did you ask if that’s where we’re going?” I said.
“You’s need a lift, or not?”
Tsaeb stepped forward, one hand in his pocket.
“Yeah, we’d appreciate a ride,” he said, and then went to open the rickety door.
“You backards, boy?” said the carriage driver. “Gotsta have good payment or trade to get on
this
carriage.”
I rummaged through my backpack and my pockets. Money. I still had the money from the cash box. Better yet, five one hundred dollar bills the Devil gave me, which I got the feeling was completely useless now.
“Will this do?” I said, holding one out to him.
The carriage driver took the bill, examined it, sniffed it, licked it and even put it to his ear.
“Are you deef?” he said, handing it back. “I said
good
payment or trade, not some paper junks.”
The driver shook his head and went to snap the reins.
“Wait!”
I took off my watch. “What about this?”
Unimpressed laughter rippled through the air.
Tsaeb literally pushed me to the side; I felt one of his fingers jab between my ribs. “Look, old man,” he growled. “We need a ride through that fucking field. So what kind of payment or trade do you
need
exactly?”
I could practically hear his teeth grinding behind his lips.
The driver sneered, loosening the reins some. He turned sideways on the box seat to face Tsaeb, looking down over a long, crooked nose. The horses snorted and jerked their dingy-white tails about.
“You got some grit, boy, but it ain’t gonna get you nowhere’s with Gorg.” He sucked on his front tooth and pulled away, sitting upright. “Gorg likes eyes and fingers, toes and teeth. You gots em’ to give then Gorg gots a ride to offer.”
Dangling from the carriage driver’s neck was a string of shriveled fingers and a few human teeth. Hanging from the roof of the carriage were other grotesque trinkets: a foot, a string of eyes and two human skulls. The carriage driver noticed my gaze passing over his things and he hacked and coughed again before he could speak.
“Wut? You thinkin’ I’s a flesh-eater or sumthin’? I ain’t nuthin’ of the sorts.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Tsaeb grumbled.
“Well, I’m pretty fond of my body parts and would like to keep them,” I said. “Anything else we can offer?”
“Nope.”
And that was that. But just when I thought I wasn’t getting that carriage ride, the strange creature with the fiery red hair emerged from the forest.
“I will pay their passage,” she said with velvet-smooth words. “But you must promise to get Norman safely across the field
—
no body part is to be touched.”
The driver gawked at her nakedness, licking his lips.
“We can hop in the carriage for a few, bump some uglies,” the driver said. He jumped down from the box seat, the sound of his old bones rattling under his robe. Opening the door on the carriage, he gestured inside with his free hand. “My word
—
safely across the field,” he said crossing his finger over his heart.
“Sir,” she said, “Do you not remember who or what I am? Has it been that long already?”
The driver furrowed his bushy brows in thought. “I’s
do
remember!” He smacked his dirty hands together and suddenly the greedy expression on his face matched Tsaeb’s.
“Oh yes,” he added, “You gots my word.”
“Good,” she said.
I turned to her. “Thank you, again.”
The driver moved toward her, stepping over the threshold and into the forest. I wondered what was going on.
Tsaeb took the opportunity to snoop around the carriage. The horses appeared agitated, breathing heavily with bothersome grunts and snorts. Their tails whipped about fiercely, their masculine heads bobbing and baring their teeth.
A pair of thin, transparent wings unfurled from the skin on her back and stretched out behind her. She brought her arms up, grabbed hold of her wings and ripped them from her flesh.
My hand instinctively flew over my mouth.
Gorg took the wings carefully and moved back to the carriage with caution, making sure not to trip and ruin the wings that were surely going to set him up for several years.
I was intoxicated suddenly, trapped in some cruel euphoria, the scent stronger than ever now.
I snapped out of it.
“Wh-why did you do that?” I said, hardly able to get the words out.
She buried her chin in one shoulder. “They will grow back.”
“But...” I moved behind her, looking at the bloody stubs where her wings had been. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Who cares?” said Tsaeb from the door of the carriage. He stepped up and inside, his head peeking around the doorframe. “Let’s go!”
I ignored him.
Touching the skin around her wound lightly, I cringed.
“It is painful,” she answered, “but a small price to pay.”
“To pay for what?”
“Will you
come on
before this dimp decides to start charging by the hour!”
The creature and I shared a quiet moment, but she never answered.
“Safe journeys,” she said, waving.
Reluctantly, I climbed into the carriage, hardly ever taking my eyes off her.