In The Lap Of The Gods Page 9

  “I’ve relocated,” answered Lucifer. “The world is now my oyster. Where’s your old man?”

  “Dad!” Phobetor yelled. “It’s the Lord of the Flies on line one!”

  Lucifer held the phone away from his ear as Hypnos answered the phone in a loud voice. “Holy Hera,” Hypnos said. “Lucifer, what the devil are you up to? I thought you were banned from Earth?”

  “Self-imposed exile,” Lucifer said, “but I’m making a comeback.”

  “So it seems,” Hypnos said warily. The God of Sleep didn’t care for this turn of events. In the old days, Hypnos had tricked Zeus and as a result, the Akkadians had won a battle over the Trojans. Zeus thankfully had never caught him or Hypnos would have ended up as a lamb somewhere just a bite behind the mint jelly. Unfortunately, Lucifer kept voluminous files of all the dirty tricks that had occurred in the world and had blackmailed Hypnos for a couple of very risky favors over the centuries. “So, Lucifer, I assume you are just calling to say hello and how are you doing?”

  “Absolutely,” Lucifer replied. “Just touching base with some of my old pals from the golden years.”

  Hypnos sighed in relief.

  “However,” Lucifer continued. “I need a favor. Are you still in the sleeping and dreaming business?”

  Hypnos sighed again, in resignation.

  “We got out of that a long time ago to dedicate ourselves to our new craft.”

  “Stuffing animals?”

  “There’s a lot more to it than that.”

  “I’m sure there is,” Lucifer said. “Listen, I’m going to bring you a man that needs a little dream direction.” He filled Hypnos in on the details. “Can you handle that?”

  “You want us to put together a full-fledged sleep laboratory with all the bells and whistles by tomorrow,” Hypnos said. “It can’t be done. We live in the sticks, Lucifer, not the back lot of Paramount Studios.”

  “So I was talking to Zeus recently,” Lucifer answered. “He’s still miffed about what happened to his beloved Trojans.”

  “Okay, okay. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, old pal.”

  Hypnos slammed the phone into its cradle, took a deep breath, and thought for a few minutes.

  “Phobetor!” he finally shouted. “Didn’t the local amateur troupe put on a stage play version of Frankenstein last year?”

  Chapter 34[34]

  “Mississippi?” Fat Boy asked. “Dude, people leave Mississippi. People don’t actually go there.”

  “Cultural stereotyping is so unhip,” Absalom replied.

  “What, do you need to marry a cousin or something?”

  Absalom sighed. Loudly.

  “Just razzing, mewzangu,” Fat Boy grinned.

  “Glad to see the Swahili lessons are going so well.”

  “Lt. Uhura spoke Swahili. I wish she were my girlfriend. I’d rock her United Federation Of Planets.’ Fat Boy gave his hips a twist and a thrust, his belly rolls quivering. “Open up a hailing frequency and feel the love, baby!”

  Absalom put his phaser on ignore and finished writing down the instructions for his absence. It was unlikely that Fat Boy would pay heed to any of them, and the odds were good that a front window display of “Authors Ending in the Letter Z” or “Books with Ornithological Titles” would be constructed, but that was okay.

  When Sam had told him about the sleep therapists, Absalom was automatically skeptical. After all, what can you really do about dreams? But Sam had launched into a whole blurb about lucid dreaming, light and mirror experiments, and other quasi-new age jargon that Absalom didn’t follow, so he decided it was a “what the hell” moment. Even if it was Taylorsville, Mississippi, or as Sam had called it, “the Dream Capital of the South.”

  Now that’s a brochure maker, Absalom thought.

  Taylorsville wasn’t that bad. 1400 or so people in the middle of the state, complete with car washes, dollar stores, and more Confederate battle flags per square mile than Absalom thought was humanly possible.

  “Be sure to say War Between the States,” Lucifer cautioned. “A northern boy like you might get an ass-whooping.”

  “I’m from Missouri, Sam. That’s not the north.”

  “Unless you’re the Outlaw Josey Wales,” Lucifer said. “That’s close enough for these boys. Don’t forget, Grant settled in Missouri. That taints the whole state. Here’s the main drag. Welcome to Everytown USA, southern style.”

  “Wow, angled parking,” Absalom observed. “Welcome to the 1950’s”

  Lucifer pulled smoothly in front of a row of stores. The tree-lined street oozed Southern charm, RC Cola, and gin n’ tonic. Lucifer licked his lips. Maybe a mint julep later?

  “Mr. Jones, have I told you about my famous mint julep recipe?”

  “Please quit calling me Mr. Jones. Call me Absalom. Doesn’t a mint julep have a lemon in it?”

  “Lemon?” Lucifer snorted. “You truly are a Northern aggressor, sir. Leave the gentlemanly drink to us Southern lads, please.” Lucifer’s southern drawl was passable, but more Georgia than Mississippi.

  “This is it?” Absalom asked, looking at the red brick building. “Hunting Trophy Wildlife Inc. They sound like taxidermists to me.”

  “Sometimes dreams don’t pay the bills,” Lucifer said. “You need a little something to fall back on.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ear,” Absalom agreed.

  “Let’s hope not,” Lucifer countered.

  They opened the screen door that squeaked mightily and smacked the jam with a satisfying thump when it closed. A giant bear head greeted them, mouth open hungrily. Absalom was glad he wasn’t a salmon.

  “Tons of bad karma in here, Sam,” Absalom joked.

  Sam turned to him. “Trust me,” he said seriously. “Karma ain’t got nothing to do with it.” Lucifer smiled broadly. “A little philosophy for you, southern-style.”

  The floor was a nice creaky wood, worn down by the years of hunting boots. Glass cases on the walls proudly displayed the stuffed variety of a host of Southern wildlife. A few of the exhibits featured more exotic animals that seemed oddly out of place. There was a lemur and an Emperor penguin in a corner display, locked in mortal combat, the penguin’s mouth attached to the lemur’s throat and the lemur’s tail wrapped around the penguin’s torso.

  “Symbolic?” Absalom asked Sam.

  “No, just perverse.” A giant, dark man parted the beaded curtains of the backroom and strode in. He extended his paw to Absalom and grinned. “I am Mr. Hypnos.” He tilted his had toward Lucifer and said, “How did you get hooked up with Mr. Brimstone here?”

  Lucifer cleared his throat brusquely and put himself between the giant and Absalom. “Mr. Hypnos seems to forget I still have a buddy of his in my rolodex. When’s the last chance you got a chance to chat with our old buddy, Hey-Zeus?”

  Mr. Hypnos paled slightly. “That was all a big misunderstanding.”

  “Tell that to the Trojans,” Lucifer smirked.

  “Anyway,” Mr. Hypnos continued. “The Battle of the Totems here was created by my boy Agora. It is said that a penguin can move between worlds and change reality and struggles with both.”

  “What about the lemur?”

  “He just got that at a flea market somewhere. I tell you, that boy can be a nightmare.” He clapped Lucifer sharply on the shoulder. “And you are still sure about this action plan?”

  “Yes,” Lucifer said, raising his eyebrows sharply.

  “Okey-dokey,” Mr. Hypnos said. “Then you need to follow me to the laboratory.” Hypnos pronounced it as Igor would have in the Bride of Frankenstein. If Absalom noticed, he showed no indication. Why did all the Greek gods considered themselves such comedians? Lucifer wondered.

  The backroom actually did resemble Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory, right down to the giant table where they strapped down Boris Karloff. Absalom looked around nervously.

  “Never fear,” Mr. Hypnos said. “This is all much safer than it looks.”
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  “I would hope so. This place looks like OSHA’s idea of a multiple fines and many yards of yellow warning tape.” Absalom eyed the large table. “How am I supposed to sleep on that? It looks like an autopsy table.”

  Mr. Hypnos did not comment. Good eye, he thought. He introduced Absalom to his four sons, Phobetor, Morpheus, Agora, and Phantasus. They were all dressed alike; yellow jumpsuits and bright red energy dome hats. “We’re an award-winning Devo cover band,” Agora explained.

  “I just like the hat,” Phantasus said.

  Lucifer patted Absalom on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, my friend. These boys are professionals. I’m sure there are pillows and cushions around here somewhere. Right, fellows?” He looked at the quartet. They looked at each other and shrugged.

  After some quibbling, a few decorative pillows were purchased from Cindy Lou’s Embroideries and Absalom stretched out on the gleaming silver table. “You all can’t stand there and stare at me,” he said. “It makes me a little self-conscious.” They took a few steps back. “Okay, now what?” Absalom asked.

  “Uh, well,” said Morpheus. “Just go to sleep. What do you want, a story about kittens and a warm glass of milk?”

  “I just thought there would be more science than this. Electrodes, monitors, stuff like that.”

  “Ah, I get it,” Hypnos said. “You’ll have to forgive us. Our work typically doesn’t start until sleep has begun. The going to sleep part we just don’t know much about. Maybe we have some nitrous oxide or chloroform or something around.”

  “Don’t you sleep yourselves?” Absalom asked.

  Everyone turned around, pretending to make adjustments on various non-functional instruments.

  “Cripes, let me in,” Lucifer said. “Turn these lights down and please turn the damned thunder and lightning machine off.”

  The lights dimmed and the soft glow of the moon drifted through the skylight. The boy slipped back to their quarters to confer about tomorrow night’s set list.

  Lucifer’s eyes glowed soft yellow in the dimness.

  “Relax,” he told Absalom. “Think about the calmness of the sea, waves silently lapping on the shore. A quiet morning, the trill of a songbird, a garden of Eden, the perfect woman-”

  A snore jolted Lucifer back to Mississippi and Eve’s amble bosom faded away. He could hear the boys laughing and telling dirty jokes, something about rodeo sex. He smelled Eve’s scent, bright and happy, tickling his nostrils, making him smile. Absalom snored again, on his way. Lucifer brushed the hair from Absalom’s forehead, gently.

  Chapter 35[35]

  Absalom sat up.

  He was surrounded by a field of poppies. A hot breeze blew over him.

  “Poppies?” asked Lucifer.

  “It’s symbolism,” said Hypnos. “Sweet rest. I think there is a painting of me somewhere where I’m lying in a field of poppies, surrounded by friends, and a gentle snow falling.”

  “That’s the Wizard of Oz.”

  “Fine, but I just want to say that you’re taking all the fun out of this. I’m an artist, not some simple-minded mechanic.”

  Absalom sat up.

  He was surrounded by a field of plastic pink flamingos. A hot breeze blew over him.

  “Funny,” grunted Lucifer.

  Absalom stood up and took in the situation. There was something familiar about the scene, but his mind was a bit foggy. He was hot in the long leather jacket, so he started taking it off until he felt the breeze in places he shouldn’t be feeling the breeze.

  He was naked underneath.

  “Why is he naked?” asked Lucifer. “Is he fearful of exposure? Ashamed and vulnerable?”

  “Nah. Phantasus thought he was cute. Phantasus! Get some clothes on him now. We have to get you a boyfriend.”

  Absalom ran his hand down his fine silk shirt. Expensive and unbuttoned the waist. Gold chain. Italian shoes. He felt like a guy in a Federico Fellini film.

  “Morpheus?” Hypnos shouted. “Where did this guy wake up?”

  Morpheus entered the control room in a burst of blue smoke. Lucifer coughed and sputtered. Morpheus laughed heartily. “He’s just west of the target.”

  “Do you have everything you need to get him where he needs to be?”

  “I’ve got it all worked out with Agora. We can only get him to the border, you know,” Morpheus said. “I have no desire to rumble with the Powers and that tough old bastard Ertosi.”

  Lucifer nodded. He and Ertosi had crossed paths during the War. Ertosi was fierce and devoted to Jehovah. Lucifer only added one scar to the hundreds of others that Ertosi wore like badges of honor for his beloved Jehovah.

  “Close enough,” said Hypnos. “After that, it will be up to Mr. Jones.” He turned to Lucifer. “Are you still sure about this?”

  “Positive,” Lucifer answered.

  “Okay.” Hypnos ruffled Morpheus’ hair. “Go do your thing, son. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve done one of these, so be really careful.”

  “Acknowledged,” Morpheus said and he disappeared in another puff of smoke.

  “It’s from their stage show,” Hypnos said. “They step out of an explosion of smoke and sing Working in a Coalmine.”

  Lucifer turned and watched Absalom in the depths of Hypnos vision. The three-dimensional effect was disconcerting, giving the distinctly unreal effect of thousands of pink flamingos, swaying like amber waves of grain across a great prairie.

  “There it comes,” Hypnos said.

  Lucifer saw it, but his brain couldn’t quite get any neurons around it. “It really has been a long time since he’s done this kind of work,” Lucifer said. “A bus? Why not something, flashier?”

  Absalom heard the small bus as it shifted gears toward him. It wasn’t a bad looking vehicle, just a slight bit of rust here and there. It pulled up next to him and the door opened. A dark looking man peered at him. “C’mon Mr. Jones.” He motioned Absalom on, a gold ring flashing on the stump of a finger. “I am Juan Chicoy,” he said. “Welcome to the Sweetheart.” Absalom got on.

  “Well,” Hypnos said, a little embarrassed. “It could have been worse. Instead of reading Steinbeck, he could have been watching Partridge Family reruns.”

  Phobetor finished off his raisinettes. “C’mon, get happy,” he smirked.

  Absalom took a seat behind the driver and looked out his open window. The bus slowly eased away, crunching plastic under its wheels. After a mile, the crunching stopped and the bus rolled smoothly onto a wide golden-bricked road. Juan snorted.

  Absalom sifted through his mental cobwebs. He knew he was on a mission of some sort, but he didn’t have any weapons or maps to give him a clue. The sky was fading from a deep azure and was slowly blackening. Words and numbers poked in and out of his thoughts. 346. Library. Codex. Bric-a-brac. Brimstone.

  After a period, he felt the bus shudder to a stop and Juan let fly a torrent of Mexican expletives. The darkened sky burned with white light and creatures with flaming swords and very displeased expressions surrounded the bus.

  “Adios, Mr. Jones,” Juan said, and Absalom felt the bus vibrate in the key of A before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Absalom thumped heavily on the ground, pain wrenching through his lower back. His mind twisted inside out and he felt himself being lifted off the ground, floating away, in a flash of sparks and backfiring through the galaxy…

  “Welcome back, young man.”

  Absalom squinted at the brightly burning image in front of him. He tried shielding his eyes with his hand, but it seemed to burn right through.

  “Oops, sorry.” The burning light tuned down to neon-level and Absalom opened his eyes. The man in front of him was smiling broadly. “We don’t get many visitors anymore. I’m Ertosi, by the way. The men call me Captain Asshole, although I wouldn’t suggest you try it.” Ertosi slid his sword out of its sheath by a millimeter and Absalom felt for a brief second that his flesh had been toasted by the sun.

  When the sword slid back into th
e sheath, Absalom rubbed his watering eyes and looked around. He was in a city of some sort. Gold everywhere. Jewels in the walls. Marble.

  “I suppose you are back looking for the library?”

  Library. Absalom felt a tug and the fog lifted and his mind totally cleared. Golden book.

  Ertosi looked at him closely. “That’s what you were doing last time. You must have been here for a week. I couldn’t get anything sensible out of you, other that you were an author. Of course, the fact that you are here means you still possess the Keys.” Ertosi rubbed between his eyes with his right thumb. “You’re the first guy here since Servatius. He showed up once, freaked out, and never came back. Do you know what happened to him?”

  Absalom shook his head.

  “He was a pretty nice guy. Said he met St. Peter once in a vision. Peter gave him the Keys and told him to go to Holland. That seemed unlikely to me. Peter didn’t remember doing it either. He had thought he had left the Keys at some eatery in Rome. Never got them back.”

  “Anyway, welcome to the City of God. I have to get back to my duties, such as they are. Boring. A few dreamers get too close, we say boo, they run.” Ertosi stuck out his hand and Absalom shook it. He watched as Ertosi flew off, wings of gold elegantly pushing through the still air.

  The streets were quiet as he made his way through the city. Occasionally he saw what he thought was a person, but they were either moving quickly or avoiding him. Heaven sure isn’t as bustling as I imagined, he thought.

  The library was just as he remembered it. He walked up the marble steps and watched as the ornate glass doors opened for him. The cool air caressed him as he walked through the stacks, jaw dragging the floor. It appeared every book ever written was here, from Plutarch to Moses to James Patterson.

  The golden book was still shelved in the same place as before. He took it down and examined it closely. Finely etched in the cover he saw the title. “The Angel’s Guide to the Universe, Volume Four.” He turned it to page 346 and began to memorize.

  Hypnos was on his third mint julep as Lucifer finished his third mile of pacing. The three-dimensional vision of Hypnos’ view of Absalom still bore a colorful test pattern emblazoned with the declaration PLEASE STAND BY.