Kev (24 page)

Two levels later, the shocks I felt each time
I fired now brutally painful, I lost my final life, and experienced
something beyond pain, something that seemed to last for an
eternity. When it passed, I heard B24ME say, “You guys really suck
at this, don’t you?”

At that point, I was back in a spaceship. I
heard Clive say, “This isn’t the same as the arcade game. The ships
move faster and the missiles do too.” I didn’t expect to be able to
hear Clive, given that my speaker had blown out, and found myself
thankful that B24ME had allowed it to be repaired for the new
game.

“Well, I didn’t say it was exactly the same,”
said B24ME. “Ready for the next game?”

I don’t know how long we played or how many
games we played. All I know is that I eventually got to a point
where the pain became meaningless, where I lost all sense of self.
In some ways, I became one with my ship, the only thing that
reminded me I existed. I know Clive experienced the same thing.

Eventually, we made it to the last level, me
having three lives left, Clive having four. At that point we were
barely communicating, most of the sound escaping us in the form of
grunts and howls. As we finished off the last of the enemies, a new
enemy appeared, something quite large, a cross between a wasp and a
beetle. It fired four missiles, two of which homed in on Clive, and
two that tracked me. These were missiles we couldn’t evade.
However, we both got in hits on the ship, two hits each because we
each had doubled up our ships.

Unfortunately, our hits did not destroy this
ship. We ended up spending the rest of our lives shooting the ship,
but not destroying it. After losing my last life and suffering
through unimaginable torment, I managed to say, “How many hits does
it take to kill that thing?”

“Twenty hits,” said B24ME.

I cursed. Clive and I would have to get to
this point in the game with all of our lives and our ships doubled
up. I didn’t see how that was possible. We spent another age
attempting just that, and finally, both of us now little more than
robots, we managed to get into just the right position to win the
game. We won and both appeared back in the arcade, but not before
being subjected to pain that went beyond any of the other pain we
had experienced while playing the game. Clive and I immediately
collapsed to the ground, our bodies nothing more than jelly.

I managed to say something along the lines
of, “Ugh et ower?”

Clive responded with, “Forg dat astard.”

I don’t know if B24ME was being merciful or
if he just wanted us back in shape so we could truly experience the
next round of torture, but he let us regroup, remaining silent the
entire time.

When Clive and I finally got back on our
feet, B24ME said, “Now, wasn’t that fun? Are you ready for the next
challenge?”

“Can we have a break?” said Clive.

“I already gave you a break,” said B24ME.

In all this time, I had not been able to
concentrate on finding a way out of this situation. I had no clue
how we were going to get off The Show and out of hell, and I
doubted I would ever discover a way. I believed B24ME would torture
us for all eternity and cursed myself for getting us into this
mess.

“Come on, B24ME, we’ve been at this forever.
You can’t give us a day off?” I said.

B24ME didn’t answer.

“B24ME?” I said.

No answer for a while and then, “Sorry, Turd
Fondler. We are having some technical difficulties. You know, if
you had given me a bigger budget, we wouldn’t have had to skimp on
things, and we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“What problem?” I said.

He did not answer.

“Thank God,” said Clive, patting me on the
back. “Hopefully, he is gone for good.”

“I doubt it.” I looked around the arcade,
wondering what Clive and I should do. I remembered the girl in that
moment and had a strong desire to get back to the barn to check on
her. “Let’s get out of here.”

Clive and I exited the arcade, finding
ourselves in a large, brooding city full of basalt buildings that
stretched up high to the roof of an enormous cavern. In the sky I
saw hordes of demons flying. Around us, on foot, I saw aliens of
all shapes and sizes, all beset by demons with whips and other
implements of torture, all being treated to a variety of horrors.
Something told me Clive and I did not want to be in this place.

“Let’s go back in the arcade,” I said,
grabbing Clive by the arm and pulling him back.

“Yeah, good idea,” said Clive.

I tried to open the door to the arcade, but
found it wouldn’t budge.

“Oh shit,” said Clive.

I turned and saw a twelve-foot tall demon
with a nasty whip, standing ten feet from Clive and me, a cruel
grin on its face.

“Well, looky here,” growled the demon.

I bolted, Clive chasing after me. We tore
through the streets of that miserable place, desperately looking
for somewhere to hide, the demon hot on our tail, taunting us every
step of the way, promising to treat us to many terrifying
“delights.”

Several times he lashed out with his whip,
striking us with that miserable device. Still we ran, and
eventually found an opening in the wall of the cavern, a dark
tunnel big enough for Clive and I, but not big enough for the
demon. We raced into the tunnel, a tunnel with barely enough light
to see, and ran right into something I cannot fully describe, a
worm of some sort, six feet in diameter, its gaping mouth filled
with needle-like teeth. We ran right into that mouth and that mouth
closed on us, those teeth tearing into our flesh, killing us almost
instantly.

A flash of light followed, and then Clive and
I found ourselves back in the park. I looked around frantically,
praying there would be no demons or other horrors in the park and
felt some small amount of relief when I saw no signs of
trouble.

“Climb to the top of the fort,” I said to
Clive, thinking we needed to be somewhere that offered a good view
of our surroundings. Clive and I raced up to the top of the fort
and scanned the area, seeing nothing out of sorts.

“We’ve got to get out of this place,” said
Clive, panting and sweating profusely.

“Yeah, but how?” I looked out of the park,
across the road and to the barn and noticed the girl coming out of
the barn, heading our way.

The Deevil

“It’s the girl,” I said, pointing.

Clive looked at the girl. “Who is she?”

“My wife.”

“You’re married? You’re just a kid.”

“We’re not kids, Clive. Well, maybe in hell
we are, but you and I are quite old.”

“How old?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s go down and meet her,” I
said.

We climbed down from the fort and approached
the road. The girl was running toward us, and I could see someone
far behind her, the horned man in the red leotard, pitchfork in
hand. He looked like he was skipping.

The girl stopped at the road, looked back and
then started to cross. Midway across she stopped, looking down the
road in terror, unable to move. A second later, a large truck
appeared out of nowhere, mowing her down and then disappearing.

I ran over to her battered, lifeless body.
“No!” I screamed.

“We should get off the road,” said Clive.

“Help me get her into the park.”

Clive and I picked up the girl and brought
her into the park. I checked her for a heartbeat, not wanting to
believe she was really dead, my world shattered when I realized she
was.

“How much do you want for the girl?” said a
croaky voice behind us. Clive and I turned and saw the strange,
horned man standing a few feet behind us, his eyes on the girl.

“What?” said Clive.

“How much for the girl?” croaked the man.

“What the hell are you, some Halloween
misfit?” I said.

“No no no, Kev, my boy.”

Clive and I looked at each other briefly and
then back at the man.

“What are you?” said Clive.

“How much for the girl?” said the man.

“She’s not for sale,” I said. “Go away.”

The strange man then broke into song.

I’ve been whiling way the hours

Carousing with the flowers

For no reason but my own

If you gave me fifty dollars

And some supernatural powers

I would eat her to the bone

“Get the hell out of here, you freak,”
shouted Clive.

“Give me the girl or I’ll kill you,” said the
man.

“Who the hell is this guy?” said Clive.

“Why, I’m the deevil, of course,” said the
deevil. “Don’t you remember me, Kev?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “Go away.”

“You should remember me,” said the
deevil.

“Why?” I said.

“Because I’m you, silly boy.”

“What?” I said. Note that when I was a young
boy, I used to call the devil the deevil, and I used to think he
had fake, plastic horns, carried a pitchfork, and wore a red
leotard. Of course, I didn’t remember that.

“Give me the girl or I’ll kill you,” said the
deevil, now pointing his pitchfork at Clive and me.

“You can’t kill us, you moron,” said Clive,
defiantly.

“Oh yeah?” said the deevil. “I bet I can
torture you. How would you like that?” At that moment, the deevil’s
arm shot out, the tips of his pitchfork hitting Clive in the gut,
piercing his clothes and flesh, but not fully impaling him. Clive
screamed and fell to the ground. “See. Now, give me the girl.”

Clive got back to his feet, his body now
healed, still defiant. “You can’t have her!”

Again, the deevil’s arm shot forward, and,
again, the tips of the pitchfork entered Clive’s body, but this
time went all the way through, killing him instantly. He fell to
the ground, dead, and then moments later came back to life and got
back on his feet. Clive lunged at the deevil, a creature not much
larger than him, and knocked him off his feet.

The deevil laughed and threw Clive off,
sending him hurtling against the side of the fort with a crash.
Clive groaned, picked himself up off the ground and rushed the
deevil. I joined Clive, but even the two of us together could not
keep that monster at bay.

The deevil threw us away from him and rose to
his feet, now approaching the girl.

I desperately wanted a gun or anything that
could stop this horror, and in that instant said, “God, please give
me a gun.”

I felt something vibrate in my pocket before
a gun appeared in my hand. I looked at the deevil who was now
hovering over the girl and fired a shot at it, not interested in
understanding what had made the gun appear in my hand, and, in
fact, not remembering that I had asked God for a gun.

My shot missed, but it did stop the deevil in
its tracks. It looked at me and said, “If you kill me, you kill
yourself, my boy.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t die, can you?” I
said.

Clive, who had been paying closer attention
than me, had figured out that I had asked God for a gun and that
God had given me a gun. I heard him say, “God, please give me a
gun.” I glanced his way and noticed that no gun had appeared in his
hand. I also realized, or at least believed that I had a gun now
because I had asked God for the gun. Could I ask for other things?
If I could, could I ask God to destroy the deevil? However, if the
deevil was me then wouldn’t I be asking God to destroy me too, and
if I did that would I truly die? Die forever?

The deevil said, “So, are you going to kill
me or what?”

I wasn’t sure I believed the deevil, so I
shot at it again, this time striking it in the leg. The deevil and
I both let out a howl. I felt terrible pain in my leg and realized
that whatever pain the deevil felt became my pain. Perhaps it had
been telling the truth. If it hurt me, would it hurt itself? If it
killed me, would it kill itself? If it killed me and, thus, killed
itself, would it come back to life like me? I suspected it
would.

“God, please make it so the deevil has no
desire to do anything bad to anyone ever again,” I said, thinking
this was harmless enough for me, but devastating for the
deevil.

The deevil laughed, “Doesn’t look like it
worked, pal.” I noticed movement on the ground and saw the girl
stirring. I looked back at the deevil and saw a gleeful look on his
face. He lifted his pitchfork and drove it down into the girl’s
chest, killing her instantly. I screamed out and fired madly at the
deevil, my final shot hitting him in the head, killing him and me
instantly. I had killed myself.

In the Beginning
Again

I woke up on the day of my ninth birthday to the
sound of a voice, a voice I had heard many times before, but had
never answered.

“Kev, we have to talk,” said the voice.

I got out of bed, ignoring the voice, changed
into my clothes and made my bed. I went into the bathroom and
brushed my teeth, as I always did because my mother told me I
didn’t want cavities, horrible things that would make the dentist
mad at me.

I went back into my room and looked around,
seeing my partially disassembled airplane sitting on my desk, the
airplane I had taken apart and put back together many times over, a
gift from Uncle Joe, the best uncle in the world.

“Kev, seriously, we have to talk,” said the
voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I said,
annoyed. The voice was always telling me things, things about
myself, things I didn’t want to believe. Many times, the voice had
told me that I was stuck in a loop of some sort and that I had to
get out of it, although it never explained this further.

“Look, Kev, you have to listen to me.
Something bad is going to happen today unless you stop it.”

“Like what?” I said.

“Our parents are going to die.”

That stopped me dead in my tracks.
“What?”

“At your birthday party, they are going to be
killed unless you stop it.”