The Underground City (8 page)

Bill
shrugged again. “I’m Nerdlet’s guardian angel. Where she goes, I go.” Then he crossed his flaccid arms over his bulbous chest and glared at Ael until the demon simply looked over at me in exasperation, his eyebrows meeting in the middle. He obviously didn’t know what to make of Bill. ’Course, most people didn’t. “Dude, you gotta place for me ta take a piss?” Bill asked as he cupped himself. “’Cause I gots ta go real bad.”

Ael
didn’t say anything, but pointed to a door in the far right corner of the room. Bill nodded with an uneasy smile and left us. Ael studied me for a few moments before a large smile curved his lips, revealing his extremely pointed canines. “That’s your guardian angel?” he asked with a laugh. “Girl, you musta done somethin’ real bad in your past life.”

I
didn’t say anything, but sighed. I often wondered the same thing, myself. For as much as I loved Bill as a friend, he wasn’t the ideal guardian. And I really couldn’t see him as being much of an ideal angel either, for that matter. “He grows on you,” I answered with a hesitant smile.

Ael
frowned and raised his eyebrows as high as they’d go, in an incredulous expression of utter doubt. Then he shook his head. “We gonna start with some skull crushers,” he abruptly announced in a getting-down-to-business tone.

“Of
course we are,” I said underneath my breath while following him to an unoccupied bench. Beside it stood multiple barbells, some with bent handles and others that were just straight across. Next to that was a large white bucket. Ael reached inside the bucket and grabbed two Handrels by the scruff of their necks before pulling them out. Addressing me, he said, “Grab one o’ them twenty pound bars,” and motioned to the bar rack.

Never
having held a barbell before, I wasn’t sure which one was a twenty-pounder; but luckily for me, they were labeled. I gripped the one he requested and lifted it up with both hands, carrying it to the bench. I rested one end of the bar against the bench seat while eyeing the Handrels with sincere concern. Ael dropped each of them onto the bench and they scurried toward the bar, one nipping at the other when it inadvertently cut him off. The other one growled a response, but dutifully got in line behind the first one. They both climbed up the barbell, their tiny rat-like claws making a scratching sound as they did. “Um, are you sure I need to use those on my very first workout?” I asked, frowning up at Ael.

“Who’s
the trainer? Me or you?” he growled back.

“Um,
you are,” I said with an equal amount of hesitation.

“That’s
what I thought,” he said with a nod while making his lips tight. “Now lay down with the back of your head on the end o’ the bench.” I did as I was instructed and Ael placed the bar in my hands. The Handrels clung to either end of it, curled around the metal in orange, furry balls. “Keep your elbows tucked in; an’ then you’re gonna lower the bar directly over your face by bendin’ only at the elbow,” Ael continued. “Keep the bar level, else you’re gonna end up with some sore ass fingers.” I figured he was referring to the bite of the Handrels. Fearing for my fingers, I gritted my teeth and lowered the bar, being extra careful to keep it perfectly balanced. But it wasn’t as easy as Ael made it sound, and consequently, the bar slumped to the right. In no time, the balled up little bastard rushed over and bit me right on the knuckle.

“Ow!”
I yelled.

“Keep
the bar straight, or else you’re gonna get it from the other one!” Ael warned me. I immediately righted the bar. “Now keep yer elbows tucked in!” he continued. I tucked in my elbows as far as they’d go. “Lower the bar over your face!” I lowered it and felt a burning pain in my triceps. But I figured that was where I was supposed to feel it. Better there than on my poor knuckles. “Now bring your arms back ta the front!” Ael demanded. I did so and finished the first exercise of my set, with my fingers all the worse for wear. I breathed out a sigh of relief … a sigh which was short-lived. “Now, you gotta do fourteen more!”

“What?”
I ground out, the bar starting to slope again. I immediately straightened it and resumed my set, promising myself that somehow, someway, I would get even with Tallis over this.

“Number
two, come on!” Ael yelled. “I ain’t got all day, woman!” I busted out my next skull crusher, glaring at the Handrels as I did so. I kept the bar straight. “Number three!” Taking a breath, I brought the bar back over my head again.

“Dude!”
Bill’s voice suddenly exclaimed as he appeared directly over me. Consequently, I lost control of the bar and not one, but both Handrels bit my index fingers at exactly the same time.

“Son
of a bitch!” I wailed, glaring at Bill as soon as I straightened the bar again. “Bill, can’t you see I’m busy?!”

Bill
nodded, giving a two-second glance to the Handrels before facing me again. “Sorry, Lils, but I totally just experienced peehicular manslaughter in the men’s room.”

“What
the hell you talkin’ ‘bout?” Ael asked, his voice as irritated as mine must’ve been.

Bill
nodded with glee, seeming incredibly anxious to enlighten us both, using his hands dramatically like he was planning to mime his story. “I was usin’ the urinal, an’ this freakin’ dude comes up next ta me an’ starts pissin’; an’ next thing I know, his piss is splashin’ out o’ the toilet an’ all over me!” he continued nodding vehemently, like it was too unbelievable to be true. “So I’m like: dafuq, yo? Right?” But Bill didn’t wait for anyone to respond. “Right!” Then he shook his head. “So now I’m stuck with some other dude’s piss all over my leg an’ Demon Bright here,” he glanced over at Ael, “don’t have a single goddamned shower in this shitbox.” He shook his head again. “Fuuck.” Then he looked at me. “The dude was totally sportin’ Eau de Douche anyway. Could smell him a mile away.”

“You
done lost your damn mind,” Ael replied, shaking his head, before looking at me. “I got no idea what the hell …”

“I
know,” I interrupted as I rolled my eyes, staring back at Bill as I shook my head. “No one ever knows what he’s talking about!”

“Eau
de Douche!” Bill repeated like we were both dumb. “You know, that obnoxious, headache causin’ cologne cloud that always hangs over those beefy, tight-ass shirt-wearin’ dudes who are really just total douche bags.” He nodded at both of us, like he’d just made a really good point. “An’ they’re such posers too! Freakin’ frauders! They wanna come off like they’re loaded, but the truth is they’re nothin’ but a bunch of fake Armani-wearin’ Splenda daddies ’cause they ain’t got the funds to pull off bein’ a real sugar daddy!”

Ael
pointed to the front of the gym and said with no slack in his jaw at all, “You’re not allowed back here no more. You stay up front an’ keep yourself occupied ’cause you’re gonna make me lose mah shit.”

“I’m
just sayin’!” Bill frowned as he held up his arms in submission. “CTFD yo … Calm the fuck down!”

“Outta
here!” Ael yelled at him as Bill shrugged once more and started for the front of the gym. Then looking back, first at Ael, then at me, before taking stock of the entire gym, he asked, “Anyone got one o’ them handheld Nintendos? ’Cause I got a whole bucket o’ nothin’ ta do right now.” No one responded and he shook his head. “Shit, this is totally gonna suck.”

***

I’m not sure if our gym visit really sucked for Bill, but it definitely sucked for me. I couldn’t remember a time that I’d ever attempted to do anything so physical. And now, as Bill and I followed Tallis back through the woods, I had half a mind to ask Tallis to carry me the rest of the way.

After
three sets of fifteen reps of skull crushers, which coincidentally hurt my fingers more than my skull, we moved on to dips and chest presses. The chest presses equated to a straight bar with the burdensome head of a demon on either end. Apparently, Tallis wasn’t the only one fond of killing demons and keeping their heads. However, as far as I knew, Tallis didn’t go so far as to use them for chest pressing...

After
the demonic head chest presses, we practiced bicep curls and seated rows. From there, we ventured into lower body territory, which included so many squats, my butt felt like it might fall off. But Ael, just as expected, didn’t offer any sympathy at all. Instead, we then began three sets of fifteen reps of lunges. After the lunges came the leg extensions, and then, the leg curls. By that time, I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck.

“But
the worst had to be the deadlift,” I said as I glanced over at Bill and shook my head. I felt like I’d earned the opportunity to feel sorry for myself. Tallis was already five or so paces ahead of us, which seemed to be the rule, rather than the exception. “Or maybe the burpees.”

“You
mean vurpees,” Bill said with a smug smile and a chuckle. “Anytime I watch people doing those, I vomit a little in my mouth.”

I
shook my head. “You were totally reaching with that one, Bill.”

“What?”
he demanded, puffing out his chest in defense of his pride and acting like I was being completely unreasonable. “Reaching? What you talkin’ ’bout, Willis?”

“Burpees
and a vurp have nothing in common.”

He
frowned at me. “An’ tell me just how in the hell you would even know that? It’s not like you speak cool.”

“Because
I can figure it out!” I railed back at him. I was tired and sore so my temper had a very short leash. “A vurp clearly is a burp laced with vomit. And a burp laced with vomit has absolutely nothing to do with a burpee, aside from the fact that they rhyme.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “But nice try.”

“Well
excuse the shit outta me for makin’ a funny-ass joke even if it doesn’t meet Your Royal Hostess’s joke standards!” Bill said as he frowned at me.

“It’s
Royal Highness,” I corrected him. “Hostess makes Twinkies and Ding Dongs.”

“Whatevs,”
he mumbled as he rubbed his stomach. “What I wouldn’t do for a Twinkie.” Then he glanced up at Tallis who was still ahead of us by about ten feet and frowned. “I’m sick of eatin’ Shrek food.”

I
smiled and patted his arm in a feeble attempt to make amends. Then I took a deep breath and let it out, realizing I shouldn’t have jumped down Bill’s throat. Especially after he’d been a good friend and hung out in the front of the gym with nothing to do for two hours. “Sorry, Bill. I’m just really exhausted.”

“It’s
okay, sugar nipples,” Bill responded with a big grin, his hurt feelings suddenly forgotten which made me wonder if they were really ever genuine in the first place. “So you were saying the deadlift was the worst,” he started, clearly attempting to mend our little rift. “How come?”

I
smiled at him, grateful he was my friend and someone to keep me company in this godforsaken place because Tallis definitely wasn’t the sociable type. I sighed and tried to remember the worst part of my training. Ah, yes, the deadlifts …“Because it was so difficult to lift up the Intonker, and the thing looked scary as hell.”

An
Intonker was yet another species of demon. Somehow, and I imagined it was probably against Afterlife Enterprises policy, Ael managed to collect ten demons of different species. Some of the more domesticated ones, i.e., the Handrels, were allowed to roam somewhat freely inside the gym. Because Intonkers were, apparently, easily angered and possessed foul tempers in general, all three of them were hogtied and used for exercises like the deadlift. The only other type of demon I saw was tethered outside the gym. It was tied to a tree, but had a long enough rope to allow it to chase people, thereby improving their running speeds.

As
to the proper procedure for doing an Intonker deadlift, Ael ordered me to bend over with a straight back, then reach down and grab the ropes binding the creature before simply standing up again. But my grip on the ropes had to be wide enough that the demon couldn’t crane its neck around and sink its unlimited fangs into my arm.

Unlike
the Handrels, that were somewhat harmless since they could only take a small bite out of you, the Intonkers weren’t. They were much larger, about the size of a boar, and just as thick. They were the color of deep swamp water and the texture of their skin felt like rough leather. Their faces were the worst part about them—completely hideous. Their squarish heads had jaws that were very angular and pronounced, with exaggerated underbites. Their fleshy jowls hung all the way down to their necks, sort of resembling a bulldog’s muzzle, but only slightly. They certainly didn’t share any of the bulldog’s charm though. Their myriad, razor-sharp teeth protruded every which way, filling their mouths until they looked like they were sucking on a cluster of white quartz. Their upturned noses were wide with broad, flaring nostrils. Their small, narrow, slit-like eyes glowed yellow and were very intimidating, to say the least.

“Shit,
when I saw you pick that thing up, I thought for sure it was gonna bust through those ropes and swallow you whole,” Bill said with a nod.

“Oh
really? Nice to know that your main concern was finding a Nintendo to play with.”

Bill
was about to respond when the words faltered on his lips. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone which was currently vibrating with a text message. He flipped the phone open, a feat in and of itself, considering it was covered in duct tape from being dropped one too many times. His eyes went wide as he glanced up at me. “It’s from Skeletor Horn,” he said (his pet name for Jason Streethorn, the general manager of Afterlife Enterprises). I felt my heart drop.