The Devil's Beat (The Devil's Mark) Page 26
Alice gasped. “What are you doing with that thing in here? What if somebody saw it! We have no idea what sort of diseases it might carry. Get it out of here!”
Vlad said, “Madam, I assure you, there are no diseases in this world that can infect me or my body here. I have not been sick in a thousand years.”
Max hazily thought that Vlad's marathon vomiting sessions didn't count since they were alcohol induced.
“I don't care. Get it out of here.”
“I assure you I will do as soon as I have talked to Max. My old body has a great need to be near me. It can create quite a lot of disturbance if it is not allowed to follow me. Sir Max has my parole, and I need to know what he wishes of me.”
As if it knew they were talking about it, the lumpiferous creature reared up at the end of Max's bed. Max could now see both the Mayor's head and an unfortunately full view of Vlad's old hairy buttocks upon which the head sat. For the first time, Max saw what it was what the thing was using as legs. There were two bone white (of course) rib bones holding it up on the end of the bed. The Mayor's head gave Max one of his great big enthusiastic smiles.
“Get it off the bed and be quick, please,” said Alice briskly.
Vlad bowed slightly to her, pulled the creature back down, and looked at Max with an arched eyebrow.
Max fought through the growing fatigue. He whispered. “Vlad, just do what Mike asks.”
Vlad's features remained impassive as he nodded. “Very well.”
This seemed to be the day for interruptions because there was another commotion and Vlad turned to face someone outside of Max's range of view. He heard a high pitched cultured southern voice say, “Big Al! There you are. What are you doing on that, that thing! That is truly disgustin’!”
Josh pulled the curtain back farther so that he could see what was happening, giving Max a view of it as well.
It was the Mayor's roly-poly little wife, Eunice. She was scowling fiercely at the beast, which had run up to her and was doing a clattery little happy dance around her. She motioned behind her. “Alowishus Ulysses! Retrieve your head at this instant.”
Big Al's body walked forward from behind Eunice, into Max's view. It reached down and grabbed his head with both hands. It awkwardly put a foot on the creature’s body and then pulled. The head's bed of butt cheek was stretched out with it revealing anatomical details best left hidden. The head pulled free of the buttocks with a disturbing schlupping sound and the cheeks slapped back together with a slap, leaving a raw red ring of flesh where it had been attached. The head-thing looked traumatized and skittered away.
Al's body tried to put his head back on, but Eunice said, “Don't be ridiculous, Al. It will just fall of till we figure out how to attach it back on.” Al's body slumped and then transferred its head to the crook of his arm. The head gave everyone an apologetic look.
At this point Eunice stepped up to Max's bed. Her cherubic face was twisted in an unpleasant way with her lips raised in a snarl and her left eye squinting and twitching. She said, “As for you Maximilian Faust, this is all your fault! Trust me, there will be an accounting, and Big Al will be Governor in spite of your efforts to undermine his credibility.” Eunice's eyes flashed completely black, then she turned without a word, and Big Al obediently turned and followed her out the door.
“Whoa. There's another thing you don't see every day,” said Mike.
“That was totally outrageous, dude!” added Josh excitedly.
“Would you like me to stop her?” asked Vlad, perhaps a little eagerly.
Poor Max was trying to process all this as his brain's higher reasoning functions were shutting down. He managed to shake his head slightly before he finally drifted off on a cloud of chemical comfort.
After that, Max's time in the hospital was a blur of pain and confusion. He had a hard time keeping track of what was happening. He even dreamed that Lucian showed up dressed in a doctor's coat. In his dream, he had tried to scream and stop Lucian from cutting him open. He struggled, but the last thing he remembered of the dream was Lucian's wry smile while he was telling Max, “Relax, Mr. Faust! You are in my hands now, and I have never lost one of my own.”
When Max came around in the recovery room. He was seriously groggy and out of it, but that didn't stop him from trying to get out of bed and run. An unfamiliar nurse stopped him and reassured him that everything was all over and that he was recovering from an extensive and successful surgery. Apparently, a famous, and expensive, surgeon had come from the west coast to perform the surgery. He had flown in, performed the surgery, and then left. It was a good thing too, because Doc Bob had voiced serious doubts about his own ability to fix Max's shattered shoulder. Max started to settle down, realizing that was just a dream until the nurse had told him that Dr. Black had assured her that Max would regain full use of his arm. The shock of hearing his name almost killed Max, but as he recovered, he had convinced himself that it was just a coincidence. It had to be... right?
***
A few days later, Max sat in a regular hospital room, trying to take his mind off his worry. His arm and shoulder had been seriously messed up and all he could think about was whether he would ever be able to play. If Lucian really had operated on him, he was hosed. He hadn't picked up his guitar for two years, but now it was the only thing he could think about. Every time he was alone and relatively drug free, he berated himself for being such an asshole. He'd thrown away the one good thing in his life.
So, he sat watching, One Life to Love with Vlad. His arm was in a sling and the pain in his shoulder had decreased enough that he was able to refrain from giving himself doses of morphine long enough for his head to clear. Everything that had happened had taken on a vaguely dreamy quality. Mike, who usually joined them for One Life to Love, came in excitedly waving a piece of paper.
“We've got it! We've got her address!” This was probably the only thing that would have dragged Vlad's attention from the show.
He turned and said with excitement, “You have discovered my Anesha's location?”
Max was compelled to remind him, “Vlad, remember, this is not your Anisha. Her name is Annie Solosky. If you talk to her like she is Anisha, you will just freak her out, and she'll call the cops on you.”
Vlad looked at him with irritation. He said, “So you have said, yet in this, you know nothing. She is Anisha, and she will know me when she sees me.”
Max sighed and started, “Vlad...” He stopped himself. Max and Mike had gone round and round on this with Vlad, and it was just a waste of their breath. Max had a terrible feeling in his bones that this was going to end very, very badly. He just hoped it wouldn't involve more bloodshed and screaming. He had had enough of that to last five lifetimes.
Vlad stood up and looked at Mike. He said, “Let us depart immediately.” He didn't wait for Mike's response, just headed for the door.
Max called out desperately, “Vlad, wait! I've got a better idea! It might take a little longer, but I guarantee you it will work better than just abducting her, or something.”
Vlad turned to look at Max skeptically. “What is this idea?”
Max explained himself and Mike immediately started laughing. It took them a while to make Vlad understand, but he finally allowed that they undoubtedly were more familiar with the realities of this world and he relented. The audition really was a better idea.
A short time later, Vlad and Mike headed back to the house, leaving Max alone with his own thoughts. It was really the first time he had been alone and aware for some time. Of course, it didn't last. Max's phone rang. Also, of course, the phone was on one of the shelves used to store personal belongings and one little attempt at sitting up convinced Max that it was a crummy idea. Instead, he called for the nurse. Deana, a fifty-something, matronly woman with gray hair and a grim face came bustling into the room. “Good afternoon, Mr. Faust,” she said with a sunny demeanor, which belied her stern looks. “What can I do for you? Are you in pain?”
Max pulled up the list of messages and saw that the list started with a couple of messages from the Mayor, then there were a couple from his accountants, and finally, the last was from Alice.
He pulled up the transcription of her message. Her soft voice didn't sit very well with the voice recognition software and what was written was:
Hyman, this is Alecia Wusjuice calling. To see however, a thing urgent. Take air.
He just smirked and listened to the voice message. Alice's voice said, “Hi Max, this is Alice, I was just calling to see how you were. Nothing urgent. Take care.”
Max hit the button to call her back. It went directly to her voice mail. He didn't leave a message, but decided to listen to the others.
The Mayor's hearty voice came booming through the phone, “Hello Max! Sorry, I just missed your call! We need to discuss the upcomin' shindig announcing my run for Gov'nor's Office. Everything is set. I just wanted to ask if maybe you could give a little speech for me. I wanted to personally thank you again. This means the world to the Missus. You take care now.”
Max swallowed. Before, he just felt bad about letting the missus down. Now, he was downright terrified.
Hesitantly, he listened to the next message from the Mayor.
“Faust! Just, what the hell kind of sleazy snake-in-the-grass carpetbagger are you? Ah just got done consoling the missus that you were foreswearin' your word of honor, when I find out that you are running for Mayor! How dare you! You back-stabbing piece of northern white trash! Come down to my town and try to make a fool out of me! Well sir, we used to run yo' kind out of town on rails. I'm gonna make you rue the day you dared cross Alowishus Ulysses S. Grant Abercrombie! Good day, sir!”
Max swallowed bile and checked the date of the message. It must have been just before the Mayor showed up at Max's house. What was he talking about when he said Max was running for Mayor? There was no way in hell Max would run for Mayor of this or of any other town. The idea of getting into politics and spending his days with... Max shuddered... politicians was horrifying. How did Big Al get the idea that Max was running against him?
Max was trying to wrap his mind around the whole thing when a skinny young man, with bad complexion and an unruly mop of black hair, skittered nervously into his room. He zipped in, looked over his shoulders like he was being followed and then turned Max. Max could see him pause to take a deep breath and mentally collect himself, before he walked hesitantly up to his bed.
He said nervously, “Mr. Faust, sir?”
Max said cautiously, “Yes? And you are?”
This seemed to give the young man confidence, for some reason. He walked forward with his right arm stretched out for a shake and said proudly, “Bobby Tate of The Truth Shall Set You Free.”
Max looked at Bobby's proffered hand and then significantly at his heavily bandaged right shoulder. “The Truth Shall Set You Free. What's that?”
The young man faltered, and Max's downgraded him from “young man” to “boy”. The boy said, “The paper for the Tennessee Williams High School... I'm its editor?”
“Oh,” said Max. “Well, sorry Bobby, but I don't give interviews. Especially from a hospital bed.”
Bobby looked down at a small notebook in his hands. “Mr. Faust, can you tell the readers of The Truth Shall Set You Free why you have decided to run for Mayor of our small town?”
Max's train of thought, focused previously on getting this kid out of his room, was derailed. He said fiercely, “Who told you I was running for mayor?”
Bobby backed up a little. “Well... uh... sir, it's a matter of public record. The town records show that you announced your intention to run for office two weeks ago.”
“I did no such thing!” yelled Max. He winced from the accompanying pain in his shoulder.
Bobby looked excited and started babbling. “So, you are saying that you did not register your intentions to run as mayor, and that the signature on that registration is not yours. Someone forged your signature? Who do you think forged it? What motivation would someone have to register you? Would it change your mind to know that 75% of people I have polled say that they are voting for you? How...”
“Bobby Tate!” The stern voice came from the doorway. “I told you to leave that poor man alone!” It was Max's nurse.
Bobby jumped guiltily. “But, he said he isn't running for office!”
“That is of no never-mind to you, Bobby Tate. People are allowed to change their minds! You get out of this room now.”
“But!”
“Don't make me call your mama, Bobby Tate!”
These were apparently the magic words because Bobby Tate whirled on Max and tried unsuccessfully to look threatening. “This isn't over!” He turned again and left the room, departing with a heartfelt, “Ow!” as Deana smacked Bobby on the back of the head with a sharp thwack of her hand.
Deana looked over apologetically at Max. “I'm so sorry, Mr. Faust. We've been keeping everyone out, but that Bobby Tate is one determined boy.”
Max shook his head. “Don't worry about it. Did you know I was running for Mayor?”
Deana's face settled into its accustomed grim expression. She said, “Yes, I did. It's all anyone is talking about these days. Lots of folk think it's time for a change in this town. Myself, I think anyone who wants to be mayor of this town is a right fool. Pardon me for saying.”
Max shook his head. “I have to agree with you, Deana. This whole thing is a big prank. I've never wanted to be a politician, and I don't plan to start now. Someone entered me in the race without my knowledge.”
Deana looked soberly at Max, weighing his words. She nodded her head curtly. “Good for you, Mr. Faust, but a lot of people are going to be disappointed to hear it.” She bustled back out of the room.
Max shook his head in dismay and let it flop back onto the pillow. Fucking Lucian! It had to be him.
***
Late the next morning, after a restless, dream-filled night's sleep, Max was pulled from his contemplations of his life by a call from Mike. This time the phone was on his rolling lunch table so he answered it after only a couple of rings.
“Hey Max! Guess what?” said Mike in a hearty, happy voice.
“What?”
“The Mayor has picked a new chief of police!”
“Oh.” Max was only marginally interested.
“Aren't you going to ask who?”
“Okay, who?”
“Vlad!”
Max sat up in bed in surprise, much to his shoulder's dismay. He cursed as he fell back, further jarring himself. “Ow! Bugger the devil!”
Mike laughed at hearing this. “Bugger the devil? Where the hell did that come from?”
Max groaned as the shock from the pain echoed like a gunshot throughout his body.
“Max?”
“Mike, don't do that to me.”
“What?”
“Surprise me. You just about killed me.”
“Oh, sorry, but did you hear what I said? Vlad is the new chief of police.”
“Oh God. Are you really serious? You let him say yes?”
“Max, I told him he should say yes.”
“What! Are you insane?”
“No, don't you see? It's perfect!”
“He's a vampire, Mike! Hell, he is The Vampire as far as we know. It's a fucking nightmare waiting to happen! Do you really want him responding to emergencies? Emergencies where there is blood and gore and dying people? Oh, and did I mention blood?”
“Relax, M
axy! Relax! He's committed to giving up blood! He says that once Anesha is by his side, he won't need it anymore!”
“Max, what if she doesn't like him?”
“C'mon Max! This is fate! It's God's will! There is no way God would put an Anesha clone on this planet unless it was meant to be Vlad's redemption!”
“What if it wasn't God who put her on this planet?”
“What? Of course it was God! Do you think she's a mad scientist’s cloning experiment?”
Max decided he didn't really want to go there. He and Mike never really talked about religion, so he tried to back up a bit and remember what Mike said. “Who made him chief of police?”
“That's the really hilarious part. It was the Mayor! He stopped by the house to ask him.”
“What was he doing? Carting his head along in a bowling ball bag?”
“No, get this, he had on a neck brace like he had been in an accident. It mostly held his head up. About halfway through our conversation it started tilting to the side.” Mike laughed harder. “He, he had to put his hand up to catch it before it tumbled right off!”
Horrified by his own reaction, Max barked out a laugh and then cringed with the pain. Having your head roll off during a conversation would be a serious blow to your dignity.
After Mike had hung up, Max just lay back in his bed. He asked himself how his life had become so surreal. While he was rolling things over in his mind, he started unconsciously humming a tune. It was while this was going on that a young man in casual street clothes walked into the room. He had the body of a weight lifter, sandy hair, and friendly smile. He walked directly up to Max's bed. “Max Faust? Hi, I'm Jonathan White. I'm going to be your physical therapist when you get out. I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd just drop by.”
Max looked at the confident young man. “Hi Jon. I'd shake, but you know how it is.”
Jonathan nodded his head. He said affably, “I do indeed. Happily, that is what I'm here to help you with.”
“Teach me to shake hands?” said Max with a smile.
“Yup, and be able to raise your arm over your head, get dressed and feed yourself.”