Bad Gone Worse

Short fiction

Lynn LeFey

It started with a call from Lisa. She was a mutual friend of Mike and I. She called saying Mike was not looking good these days. She'd seen him a few days ago out clubbing, and he'd looked seriously strung out or something. So, I try for a day to get a hold of him, with no luck. So, I called Stephanie. If something's going on, she'll know what. She was sometimes annoying, but that bitch knew everyone, and everything going on downtown. She said she'd seen Mike at a party with some new chick, a super hottie.

Mike and I are serious buds, we've known each other since the first frickin grade. I was smarter than him, but he was a walking chick magnet. He was making time with the honeys for years while I was still dating girly-mags. Shit, no sense lying, right? But, well, obviously I had a niche that he didn't bother with, so we never had problems with girls coming between us.

Look, the truth is I played the club scene for years, but got really burned out on it, and really in deep shit with drugs. I watched my shooting buddies drop like flies from AIDS. Seeing a couple friends waste will take all the fun out of booting up. Plus, I mean, I don't want to die from having sex either, ya know?

On a kind of funny note, I met Chelsey in a 12-step, when I finally pulled out. She was a street kid. We both wanted out of that life and both believed in ourselves enough to follow through. I don't know about Mike. He's got a big streak of Mr. Tragedy in him.

Well, the good news is that I'm pretty much nocturnal in the summer. The heat in July and August are killer, and I'm working third shift anyway. I'm awake from about 3 in the afternoon to usually 8 in the morning. You get to know a whole different city when you live at night.

After persistent paging, calling, and other pestering, the little fucker finally gets back to me. He said he'd been real busy. Whatever. So, we agree to meet at our favorite coffee shop, Java/Java. It's a 'cybercafe'. It's got 8 high end PC's loaded with games and connected to the internet. But it's also got two bar sized pool tables, a couple good arcade games, and seating both indoor, and outdoor. I don't like my coffee with cigarette smoke, so when weather permits, I sit outside. Yeah, that's right. I don't even smoke anymore.

Somehow, Chelsey's into Wicca, and I just sort of followed for fun, but what I found was a connection to something that really works for me. Harm none. It's a pretty good and very tough rule to live by. Let's say maybe I'm not the best at following that… but I try. This café is a spot where computer geeks, 12-steppers, pagans, and other fringers hang.

Anyway, so I walk away from the bus stop and I'm coming up to the coffee shop, right? I can see through the windows inside to where Mikey's sitting. As I step through the doors, The smoke hazes the air slightly, but I see him, and my heart sinks. He's thin and beyond the always-waxy yellow of goth to a slight bluesh hue that makes me ill to see. He doesn't look like he's showered in a few days, nor shaved, and he's wearing little John Lennon shades. It would make a very cool tragic look if it weren't on my friend.

As I approach, he does something I can't remember him ever doing. He gets up, reaches forward and hugs me hard, an act that feeds the growing feelings of confusion and fear. We held the embrace for maybe half a minute, and I think there were little wracked sobs from him in the somewhere.

We pull apart, and I try to read his eyes, but the darkness of the glasses makes it impossible. We slide into opposite sides of the little booth. He's staring at his hands, and occasionally throws glances at the door. I try to ignore the music in the background, some rave shit.

"Mike, man… What's going on?"

"I'm… ah… I'm leaving, Jen". His eyes never lift from his hands.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Leaving to where?" I asked.

"LEAVING, Jen… The final checkout. I have to."

"Why?"

Just then Mike jerks out of the slump posture, frozen in cold fear. A young woman and two young men approach. They're leathered pretty heavy and look like they know how to fight. Shit. I couldn't go three on one. No way. The female comes forward, trying too hard to look like someone in a Sam Pekinpaw slow motion shot, as the others fall back, sitting at a table within earshot.

Her posture says supreme confidence, a bad thing. Her outfit is skintight leather pants, a red silk blouse over a black satin bra, and covered with a leather trenchcoat, that looks designer made. She has a collar around her neck of black leather closed by a 'Master' padlock in brushed aluminum. To me, it looked like she was into the B&D scene.

"Michael, you have been bad," she says, ignoring me completely. Like she was his mother or some shit.

"Excuse me BITCH, but back off" I say.

She wheels her hawk-like gaze to me, and for the briefest second, I fear her. I think the fear was born on the knowledge that her eyes were insane, and insane people can't be predicted.

"I was not speaking to you, Dyke" She returns, in a haughty manner.

I chuckle pleasantly. My left hand finds my spiderco blade and I slide out of the booth. I am in her face with my blade barely pressing at her belly, hidden from other's view.

"Excuse me, but I thought I heard you say you wanted to play jump rope with your intestines. Or was I just imagining things? " I say in a very controlled soft voice.

Her eyes and mine lock, and I see her calculating something, thinking. Then the shop owner yells out from by the Espresso Machine 'Hey, Ladies. NOT IN HERE'.

She steps back and starts reading me. She sees Black jeans, hiking boots, Black leather jacket, tie dyed t shirt in earthtones… and her eyes stop at the sterling silver pentacle hanging around my neck. I think I see her lip curl.

'You FUCKING witch!', she nearly roared.

'That's right, a fucking dyke pagan gun-toting street punk. How bout you take your sorry queen of the damned wannabe slut ass home before I see if I can put you in a spell of binding.'

This argument draws the attention from several other tables. This joint is a major hangout in the pagan scene and some friends take notice. The high priest of another wiccan coven begins to approach. I knew him from many events and several late night discussions over coffee. His craft name was 'Sun Hawk'.

'Michael, it's either tonight or nothing', she says as she returns her gaze to Mike. He pulls one leg against himself, and stares at the wall, trying very hard not to be where he is.

'LILLY!' Sun Hawk shouts, 'You know you're not welcome here'.

'Fuck you Sun. Mike is mine.'

'No he isn't Lil… not yet', Sun Hawk returns calmly.

She takes note of all the people around her, and turns away, creating the most dramatic whirl of her trenchcoat.

'Ya fucking leech drama queen', I fire as a last volley.

I turn back and Mike is shivering. He's pulled away his sunglasses, and the whites of his eyes are all red. His wracking sobs bring no tears.

'They have my body, Jen. She bit me three nights ago. I've got it and I'm dying. I can't cry. I can't spit. I can barely chew ice. And I can't eat… I'm so fried. I'm so fucking tired.' He stares at me, and I feel my heart sink.

I had to do something. I couldn't just sit and watch this happen, but still, I know it's too late for me to do anything of real use.

I haul him out to my bike on the curb. He's staggering like he's in a dream. We ride off out of town, and into the long darkness. They'll probably follow me, but it doesn't matter, they can't follow me all the way. I get to the sanctuary. I get to the hill. It's dark as hell. New moon. I use a little flashlight to guide myself through the little path in the woods, and finally emerge at the crown of the hill, a clearing with great granite standing stones at the cardinal directions. I leave Mike in the soft grass, and begin to clear my mind.

The feelings of insanity and pain flush away, out of the bottoms of my feet. All the negative energy floods out, and slowly begins to rebuild. I gather it like swept grains of sand and press it into a ball in my chest, tighter and tighter, like a tiny star. I reach beyond me, into the ground and the trees. It is always the most glorious feeling, being flooded with the power of the world around you, not taking, but sharing in it's strength. And when I have gathered so much energy that the star in my chest threatens to burst, I pull from my jacket a small double edged blade and point it at the ground. I push the energy down my arm and out my fingers that touch the metal of the blade, I inscribe the ground with invisible energies and begin to walk clockwise from the east to the south and trace the circle full round. When I reach the beginning, I seal the circle with a pentagram.

I have never put this much energy into a circle. I have nothing left to spend, but it really doesn't matter. I have made the safe place. Mike lies semiconscious beside me, and finally I sit and take his head in my lap. He twitches, and I wonder what tortured dreams are assailing him. We are there like that for an eternity. I engrave it in my mind. I love him like a brother, like part of myself. He's beyond my help, all I can do is sit here with him till the end. The insects sing their throbbing, deafening night chants, and I begin to cry. I have no power to change the events unfolding before me. Finally, Mike reaches up, caresses the side of my face, and motions me close. My ear is nearly against his lips, so I can catch the words, should they be his last.

'They're coming' he whispers

I hear the rustling of the trees, like a strong wind, and the insects go silent. In the darkness, I only see vague shapes. They're circling. I get this cold tingling that runs down my back. They're pressing against the circle.

'You can't have him. He is under my protection' I say. I speak with the authority of someone who is indestructible. I don't feel that confident in my mind.

'Michael… come back to us. We love you.' It's the trench coat bitch's voice, with sickening smoothness, lust, and sensuality. Michael's head jerks forward. And he begins trembling.

'Jen…', Michael manages 'I don't know if I can hang on much longer… I don't want to die. … I don't want to become one of them… Don't let me… don't let me fail.'

'Shit Michael… SHIT' I curse.

Around us a chorus of whispered coercions bombard Michael's reeling mind. 'Come back to us Michael.'

Michael shivers, caught between the will to live, the desire to die, and the irresistible draw of the voices.

'Jen… my flesh is failing me. Don't let me do this…'

I pull a .357 snub nosed revolver from my jacket pocket. … Harm none… I can't help him, without harming him. I can't let him spill blood in my circle… I can't let them take him…

'Is the little witch gonna shoot us?' Mocks Lil. 'You know you've lost already, but if you turn him over to us… we'll let you go.' She has a light and giddy mocking laugh.

I take the pistol, and place it in Mike's hand, and whisper to him. 'Michael, I can't do this to you. I don't have the right to send you on. You have to do that yourself… I love you man… I'm here with you to the end.'

Michael takes the pistol, and puts the barrel in his mouth. He lays curled in a fetal position. I stand up and turn from him, toward Lil. Through tears of near blind rage and pain I speak to her.

'I want you to know Lilith, you are fucking dead. I am going to personally see you burned. I'll light the pyre myself.' It's all I can do to keep myself from stepping across the edge of the circle to kill her. I stand again toe to toe with her, divided by an unseen line of force.

'If Michael kills himself, you're circle is broken, and we'll eat you, little witch. If not, Michael needs to feed, or he'll die at dawn. If he feeds, the circle is broken… and trust me, he's not going to make it till dawn.' With that, she tears back her trenchcoat, letting it fall to the ground. A breeze swirls, and in the darkness of only starlight, I see her eyes glow, lit by some hellish power.

'Michael' She says 'I command you to return to me.'

Through the rage and pain, I realize the truth. She has no power in my sacred space. Michael looks up, and I can see in the darkness some great conflict playing out on his face.

'Lillith. You have no power here. You're nothing. You're a shadow that has no source. You're a walking corpse, not quite bright enough to know when to stop. You're soul is gone, and I'm sorry, but you're not getting Michael's as a replacement.' I grab the collar of her blouse, pulling her toward me, into my circle. She crosses into the sacred space, and starts screaming. I know she's supposed to be super tough and all that, but she seems to be shredding like a paper kite in strong wind. The power of my circle is tearing her apart. She grabs my throat. I counter by grabbing her hand, spinning it so as to lock her right elbow, and then drive my own elbow into her locked arm. Her arm snaps, and she's screaming, like the sound of green wood burning. I hear a distinctive POP of the revolver, and I want to turn and look, but I finish the task at hand.

Lil is at my feet, and I unleash the pain in my heart on her. When I finally stop, I notice that the sky is beginning to get light. Dawn is approaching. The others, now clearly visible, are standing in confusion. Whether they know or not, I know my circle is broken. It doesn't matter to them, with just a pause, they scatter off to find safe rocks to hide under. I burn their faces into my mind. I will hunt them down and do to them what I did to Lil.

I turn my attention back to Michael. He lies withered and crumpled, staring blankly forward. The eyes are dead. I want to feel bitter, but I just keep thinking that he has moved on, gone to a new chapter that I am not part of. I kind of hope I see him again, maybe in another life. I really loved him.

I take up my revolver, and open the cylinder. One shell has the indentation from the firing pin. I remove it. Not exactly knowing why, I turn it to my lips, and blow into the open end of the spent casing. A fierce whistle emits, like the sound of a predatory bird. I snap the cylinder closed, and heave it into the woods. I have seen what comes of guns and knives. And now I've seen the strength of my convictions against the darkness.

The sun breaks the horizon, and the remnants of Lil and Michael are consumed with a hiss and smoking flame. There are no tears now, but in the days and weeks that follow, I know they'll find their way out. Dawn. The moment of rebirth. My life has taken a new direction, and I have lost my friend, but I live on.