Chapter 9 #2
We crept forward staying low. As the path widened the room came into view.
It wasn’t a pretty picture. The walls and floor were stone lit by wooden torches attached to the walls.
Zamirs slid and wriggled on the ceiling and bones were stacked in pyramid shaped piles on the floor.
The centerpiece of the room was a cage. The thick circular bars shimmered with a dangerous enchantment.
The door was wide open. It was large enough for a few people to stand in.
The construction was crude and it held no creature comforts.
Had this been the cage that Chamuel had lived in for billions of years?
Was Hemah that much of a monster? My guess was yes.
As much as I wanted Chamuel dead for what It had done to Shitty Ritchie, Jennifer and Alana Catherine, a small part of my heart ached that this had been the life of the Higher Power, once known as compassion, had lived.
“No,” Tim cried out as he ran into the cage and dropped to his knees.
Jennifer lay on the stone floor in a pool of her own blood. Her body was full of lash marks and her skin was red and raw. My dear friend’s eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow. However, she was alive. I scanned the room for Alana Catherine—every crack and crevice. She wasn’t here.
“Out of my way,” Candy Vargo grunted as she pushed Tim aside and placed her hands over Jennifer’s heart.
“Gideon, stand guard. Kill anything that fuckin’ comes in here.
Tim, whisper in her ear. Beg her to stay and tell her how much you love her.
Daisy, take her hands and push as much healing power into her as you can. ”
Everyone moved at once and got into position.
“What about Shitty Ritchie?” the tiny man asked. “How can Shitty Ritchie help?”
“Get ready to eat Cheese Dick if the bastard shows Its ugly fuckin’ mug,” she ordered. “It won’t kill the shitass, but it will slow It down. Jennifer ain’t in no position to end her counterpart.”
“Yes, my captain,” Shitty Ritchie said, gnashing his teeth. “Shitty Ritchie is prepared to eat Cheese Dick. Because I AM THE MAN!”
“Whatever you say,” Candy muttered as she began to wiggle her fingers over Jennifer. It looked she was conducting an orchestra. The movement was riveting and beautiful.
Shimmering orange glitter fell from her moving finger tips.
The magic formed iridescent peach-colored bubbles in the air.
They danced slowly around Jennifer and quickly picked up speed.
As Candy began to chant the motion of the bubbles grew dizzying.
It made me nauseous, but I refused to look away.
I held onto Jennifer’s limp hands and let my healing magic flow into her.
Tim’s soft words of love and adoration for his daughter fell from his lips and echoed in the cavernous room. His tears joined his words as he told Jennifer in as many ways as he could think of how much he loved her and needed her to come back to him.
My own tears blurred my eyes. Many were for Jennifer, but many were for my daughter.
Fear for her life had settled in my gut and wouldn’t leave until she was in my arms. There was so much sadness everywhere.
Why in the world were people so awful? It was much easier to be kind.
I would never understand this kind of debased behavior.
“Holy heck,” Jennifer said weakly as she opened her eyes and saw all the concerned faces peering at her. “Feel like I did after my second face lift—like a darn Mac truck hit me.”
“Oh Jennifer,” Tim said with his tears flowing freely. “You’re back.”
“Where’d I go?” she asked, confused. Her eyes were glassy and her words came out a bit slurred.
“Sit her up,” Candy Vargo instructed. “Let her look around. It’s gonna jog her memory.”
Tim and I gently moved Jennifer to a sitting position. She was like a rag doll—didn’t have much control of her body.
“Should I continue to send healing power into her?” I asked Candy Vargo.
She shook her head. “No. Jennifer needs some magic from the tiny shite hole now.”
“Shitty Ritchie is the tiny shite hole!” he screamed with delight. “I shall help my beautiful friend.” He marched over to Jennifer and sat in her lap. He cuddled close. “If Cheese Dick shows up, please let me know so I can eat the loser.”
“Will do,” Candy Vargo said, shaking her head.
“Jennifer,” the little guy said. “It is I, Shitty Ritchie. I love you and have so much to share. For a brief moment in time, I had a big dong. You would have been so proud. I am sad I didn’t photograph my impressive love rod.
I could have used the photo as my social media profile picture.
I’m quite sure it would have gotten me into someone’s love cavity. ”
“Umm… is this actually helping her?” I asked, horrified at the subject Shitty Ritchie had chosen to pontificate on.
Tim and Gideon looked as appalled as I felt.
“Just wait,” Candy said with a chuckle. “Magic works in mysterious ways.”
“Oh!” he went on to a confused Jennifer.
“Goober is in my intestines… or possibly my bowels. We paid him a visit and he was a wank—not the good kind like the one that used to be in my pants—the bad kind. I won’t let him slide out of my bunghole unless Daisy says to, but not to worry. I can eat him again!”
Shitty Ritchie looked up at Jennifer. She wasn’t responding like he’d hoped. His little brow wrinkled in thought, then he squealed.
“Gather around Shitty Ritchie,” he commanded.
We did. We waited. No one was sure what was coming next. The little guy was all kinds of crazy.
Shitty Ritchie grinned so wide that all of his sharp teeth were on display. It wasn’t his best look. “Did you know,” he began, “that lemons are the most contaminated food item in restaurants? They have the highest fecal content. AND just in case someone doesn’t know what fecal means… it’s POO!”
Jennifer’s eyes grew bright for a moment. Shitty Ritchie was disgusting, but he was onto something. Jennifer loved the gross fact game. She was the champion of it.
Tim dove right in. He pulled out his ever-present notebook and went for it. “According to the FDA, your favorite chocolate bar may contain eight insect legs and oregano can legally contain up to one-thousand-two-hundred-and fifty bug fragments per ten grams!”
Jennifer giggled. It was soft, but it was audible.
We kept going.
“Wombats crap out cube shaped poop,” Candy Vargo announced.
“Shitty Ritchie can do that too!” he shrieked. “And the average person farts around twenty times per day. HOWEVER, Shitty Ritchie farts over a hundred times a day. Shall I fart for you?”
“NO,” I said in my outdoor voice. “We’re good. Thank you, but no.” Getting asphyxiated wasn’t on the agenda. Plus, it was my turn for a fact. “It’s physically impossible to lick your elbow.”
This led to everyone trying it—even Jennifer. She was coming back to us slowly but surely. And… no one could lick their elbow.
Gideon chimed in. It wasn’t his normal MO, but this was not a regular game. It was a life or death one. “A sea cucumber, when attacked, can turn itself inside out, dumping all of its internal organs out of its rear end to confuse or entangle predators.”
“Impressive,” Shitty Ritchie said with a thumbs up.
“Icky,” I added with a wince. “Did you know it’s impossible to hum while holding your breath?”
Again, everyone gave it a try. Again, no one succeeded.
Jennifer laughed. For real. The color had come back to her cheeks and the lash marks were knitting together and healing.
“I’ve got a few,” she said, with a giggle. “A normal jar of peanut butter contains on average two bugs.”
I gagged. This game led me to banning so many of my favorite foods from my diet.
She wasn’t done. “Over a human lifetime, a person spends about one year on the crapper!”
“Speaking of toilets,” Shitty Ritchie said, “sperm is ejaculated at about twenty-eight miles per hour! That is slightly faster than Usain Bolt’s top running speed!”
“What in the actual fuck does that have to do with a toilet?” Candy asked, perturbed.
“Nothing,” Shitty Ritchie admitted with a cackle of laughter. “I just thought it was an excellent segue.”
“Guys,” Jennifer said, extended her hand for Tim to help her to her feet. She glanced around the room. “Cheese Dick is never gone for long. I think we should leave.”
“Agreed,” Gideon said. “Do you feel strong enough?”
“Gettin’ there,” she said with a forced smile. “But gettin’ out of here would be smart. Cheese Dick is evil.”
The question that had been forefront in my mind the entire time came out of my mouth. “Alana Catherine. Where is she?”
Jennifer closed her eyes for a moment and my stomach felt like it dropped to my toes.
“Another one came,” she said with a shudder. “Looked just like Cheese Dick, but was colder—meaner if that’s possible. Said that Alana Catherine belonged to It.”
Gideon growled low and deep. His tension was so fierce it made the cave seem much smaller than it was. Even the zamirs began to moan.
“Cheese Dick and the twin of Cheese Dick battled. It was bad—real dang bad. The twin won by a longshot,” Jennifer told us. “Cheese Dick was missin’ Its arms and one leg. The twin opened the cage and took Alana Catherine.”
I felt like I was going to throw up. I prayed to everything that I could think of that the motorcycles would take us to Alana Catherine next.
“Did the twin say anything about where It was going?” Gideon asked, most likely knowing that It hadn’t, but he wasn’t about to let a single stone be unturned.
Jennifer shook her head. “No. But It did say It was now the only Higher Power.”
“These fuckers are somethin’ else,” Candy Vargo grunted.
“Let your actions be free of ego,” Tim said. “Solutions without ego leave no blood in its wake.”
“Who said that?” Gideon asked.
Tim gave him a small smile. “I did, friend.”
“Gotta say, that’s a good one, Timmy,” Candy Vargo told him. “And fuckin’ true.”
“It’s time to go,” I told the group. “We don’t need a run in with Chamuel.”
“Chamuel?” Jennifer asked.
I paused and realized we knew a whole heck of a lot more than she did. It was worth spending a few minutes to get her as up to speed as we could. Knowledge could be more powerful than magic. It had been proved to us over and over again. She’d be in more danger without it.
“Chamuel is the real name of Cheese Dick,” I told her, glancing over my shoulder.
The coast was still clear. “Names have power. Chamuel represents, or rather used to represent compassion. You’re Chamuel’s counterpart.
The twin who took Alana Catherine is Uriel.
It, at one time, represented logic. Alana Catherine’s gift is logic.
Shitty Ritchie is vengeance. Hemah, or rather Fake Tom Hanks, also known as Goober is Shitty Ritchie’s counterpart as vengeance. All three are needed for balance.”
Tim took over. “The balance has never existed since Hamah caged Chamuel and Uriel in the beginning. Vengeance has ruled the Immortal world for eons. It’s why everything has gone haywire.”
Shitty Ritchie took a turn. “And that’s why the Universe blessed you, Alana Catherine and me with the gifts to take over and bring balance back to our world as the true Higher Power.”
Jennifer was nodding. “Got it,” she said. “But what in the heck are we supposed to do with Chamuel and Uriel? I mean, Fake Tom Hanks aka Goober aka Hemah got eaten. Right? Its gone.”
“Umm… kind of,” I replied, trying to truncate the explanation. “Hemah is inside Shitty Ritchie. It might be dead and It might not be. We won’t know until Shitty Ritchie poops It out.”
“Like Candy Vargo did the Angels?” Jennifer asked with a wince.
“Yessssssss,” Candy said with an eye roll. “We ain’t sure how much Shitty Ritchie chewed the motherfucker. But to answer your question, each of you has to end your counterpart.”
“End?” Jennifer questioned, confused and alarmed. “As in end-end?”
“Bingo, motherhumper,” Candy Vargo replied.
Jennifer didn’t look happy about that. It worried me and I wondered if it would break the rules if we gave her a hand in ending Chamuel.
“Shitty Ritchie did chew,” he announced. “But not a lot of chewing. Five chews!”
“That would track,” I told the little turd. “Part of Hemah was transparent. It leads me to believe Its dead but not completely gone.”
“He’s a ghost?” Tim asked.
“Possibly,” I said. “If I dive back into Shitty Ritchie’s mind, there might be more clues.”
“No time for that right now,” Gideon said, picking up Jennifer and securing her still weak body in his arms. “We need to get out of here.”
And of course, that’s when Chamuel came back…