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“You needn’t worry; they’re fine.”
“Prove they’re fine.”
“Bill, we’re fine.”
“Rae?”
“Yes, sweetie, don’t worry. I’m in Los Angeles.”
“What? Where? What?”
“Yes! I’m at the Universal Studios tour with Vito. We’re about to go into the Back to the Future ride. I’m so excited!”
Her voice sounded like she was talking on a telephone. In her background was a lot of noise-kids shouting and laughter, some sounds I didn’t recognize. Then to my amazement, I heard the bold theme song to Back to the Future. I recognized it right away. We owned the video and would pop it in the machine pretty often because it was one of our favorites.
“Bill? We’re going in now. I’ll talk to you later, honey, and give you a full report. Do you have the tickets, Vito?”
“Got ’em right here.”
The son of a bitch! Ever since we got married six years ago Rae and I have talked about going to L.A. and especially to the Universal Studios Tour to take that ride because we like the movie so much. Now here was some moving man I didn’t even know accompanying my wife instead of me.
I was so angry at the thought that for a few seconds I forgot where I was and what had been going on.
“You see Mr. Gallatin, everything is all right. By the time your wife’s ride is over, you’ll know everything and the two of you will be back home again. But in the meantime she can be having the time of her life. Do something she’s always wanted to do. Isn’t that super? We try to make everybody happy.”
“No it’s not super! I was supposed to be there with her! How come Vito gets to go while I’m here with a sore ass talking to you in the dark? Who are you anyway? Can’t you turn on some lights?”
“You wouldn’t want that. You don’t want to see me.” He said it quietly and kind of to-himself sad.
“Why’s that?”
It was quiet a minute. Then he said something that slammed shut every door in my head. “Do you ever look in the toilet after you go?”
“What?”
“Sneak a peek at what your body didn’t want. Check to see what your stomach set free?”
“For God’s sake! That’s disgusting!”
“Tell the truth now, son.”
“You’re not my doctor! Why should I tell you that? I’ve had enough. I want out. How do I open this door?”
“If you open it you’ll see me and that will be the end for you.” The tone of his voice said this is the truth-don’t doubt it. “I asked about looking in the toilet because in a way that’s what I am. I’m everything about yourself you don’t like, Mr. Gallatin. I am the shit you look at in the toilet. Once a delicious meal, now just brown stink.”
I would have laughed in his face if I could have seen it. But since it was so dark, I barked out a loud phony one to give him the same effect. “You’re nuts. And why did you lick me? What was that all about?”
Now he laughed. “That wasn’t me-it was your old friend Cyrus. Who’s right next to me. Remember him?”
“No. Who’s Cyrus?”
“Why he’s your soul, Mr. Gallatin. Don’t you recognize it when you are touched by your own soul?”
“My soul’s warm and furry and has a tongue like a dog? I don’t think so, Mr. Beef-low.”
“Beeflow. You disappoint me, sir. Shall I give you a demonstration?”
“You can give me the key out of here.”
“All right.”
Suddenly the truck door opened-bam-and I didn’t think twice. I ran for the daylight and jumped off the lip of the back of the truck. Something smart told me don’t look back. Was there really a Beeflow or a Cyrus or anything else to further cook my already-barbecued brain? I didn’t want to find out. The only thing on my mind at the moment was to get the fuck out of there.
When my feet touched pavement I started ru
And whatever it was got closer while I ran faster, as fast as I could. Just as I cried out because I knew I was caught, doomed, the thing jumped on my back and knocked me flat on my face.
It was heavy. Huge. Whatever hit me had a lot of weight and that fact made it a ton more scary.
So I stayed down, a mouse with a cat on its back, my cheek flat against the hot street asphalt. I could smell it, along with other things. Something in my mouth was bleeding, my nose honked hurt. I tasted blood; pain flew around my face. I smelled the hot street.
“Pose, get down boy. Come back here.” The man’s voice wasn’t familiar but just hearing the thing on my back had a name, a name I understood, made me feel sort of better. But “Pose” stayed standing on me and did not move an inch of its heavy self.
“Damn it, dog, what’d I just say to you? Get over here!”
The weight left and I was free again. Looking up a little, I saw four large hairy paws moving away. Slowly I put my palms flat on the ground and pushed myself to my knees. My arms were shaking because I guess I wasn’t finished being scared.
“Jeez buddy, I’m terribly sorry about that. Pose gets carried away sometimes when he sees someone ru
Standing again, I brushed off my hands and looked up real slow, Clint Eastwood-style.
Five feet away a giant Irish wolfhound stood next to a nothing-looking man. Both of them were on fire. I mean, both man and dog were in big bright flames. The guy was smiling and came toward me. Before I could do anything he stuck out a burning hand to shake and said, “I’m Mel Shaveetz. Nice to meet you. We just moved in here a couple of days ago. Haven’t met many people yet.”
Taking one giant step back, I jammed both hands as deep into my pockets as they’d go. Through his flames Mel frowned until it dawned on him. “Oh for God’s sake, I’m sorry!” He blew on his index finger. All the flames on him went out like he’d blown out a birthday candle. Like he was blowing himself out.
“I keep forgetting. Sorry about that.”
“Who are you?”
Instead of answering, he reached down and squeezed the dog’s nose. Its flames went out too. “Mel Shaveetz. And this is Posafega.”
“You were on fire!”
“Yeah well, that happens where we come from.”
“And where’s that?”
“Hell.”
“You mean you’re dead?”
“Couldn’t put on this kind of light show if I were alive. Did you think I was one of those monks who burn themselves alive?”
“You and the dog are dead?”
“No, I am. Pose is just a hound from Hell. He’s my roommate.”
“A Hellhound!”
“That’s right.”
“How come I didn’t get burned when he was standing on my back?”
“Because you’re not dead.”
“It just looks like a big wolfhound to me.”
Mel shrugged. “Nobody ever said what breed Hellhounds had to be. You want to come in the house and have a beer?”
“Which house do you mean? I know everyone who lives around here.”
He pointed to a brown and white saltbox across the street. “You’re looking at it-number eighty-eight.”
“Eighty-eight? I know who lives in eighty-eight and it isn’t you. Chris and Terry Rolfe live there.”
He looked away and tried to make his eyes busy. “Yeah well, not anymore. They moved.”
I remembered what our refrigerator movers had said about seeing piles of people’s belongings left out on the street. And I remembered the Brothers saying that was because the dead were being moved back to earth from Hell.
“I went to school with Chris Rolfe. He’s lived in this town as long as I have. I’d know if he was pla