The Kimota Anthology (43 page)

Time, Kate was finding, meant little now. She did not know if this was how it was for the dead, or whether her friends were taking her backwards and forwards. It seemed as if it must be several days since she and Cory had made love, but she was still glowing, feeling warm and relaxed, although her physical form had all but disappeared again. She was sure that if she looked at a clock, it would be spinning one way and then the other, jumping hours or stopping completely.

She wanted time - or, rather, space - to think. But not now. She had her funeral to attend.

The three of them stood in the chapel, watching the mourners file in. She saw her mother weeping uncontrollably, being almost carried out of the chapel by her father and sister. It was one of the scenes the angel had shown her. Kate felt bitter, angry and terribly sad. But not guilty, not regretful.
If you people cared
, she thought,
why didn’t you show it when I was alive
. Cory took her hand. Kate looked at her. “You were right. I’m glad I’m dead.” she said.

Later, while her mother and father threw roses onto her coffin, she wandered away, among the stones, hoping to spot an ex-lover, someone who’d needed to come and say goodbye. There was no-one. Had she really meant that little? Or was there someone, who’d stayed home, being
discreet
? Crying over the loss of an
ex-friend
? Kate was as angry at herself as her ex-lovers. But her family must have known, the way she’d spoken about certain women, who’d obviously been more than friends. The situation had been almost Orwellian; they
had
known, but had not known, that one of their daughters was a lesbian. It had always been apparent, but, as long as it was unspoken, no-one had ever had to confront it. Including Kate herself. And so life had plodded happily on. She wondered how her parents felt. Was this tearing them apart? Or were they quietly relieved? It saddened Kate that she really didn’t know.

But one thing was becoming clear. She was happier now than she’d ever been in life. Her thoughts turned to Cory, but as she looked up she saw Aleph beckoning impatiently to her from the chapel doorway. It was nearly dark. The funeral was long over. Time had moved on around her again.

“Thought you might want to see the fun,” said Aleph. The vicar was still in the chapel, pottering around. Cory was staring at him, in what for one (jealous) moment Kate thought was lust.

The vicar was moving along the pews, picking up hymn books. Suddenly he stopped and stiffened, then stood straight.

He knows we’re here
, thought Kate. She sat down and watched. The vicar, a rather solid looking middle aged man, evidently could not see Cory and Aleph closing in on him, but he could feel their prescence. He was squinting nervously at the shadows.

It was so quiet Kate could hear the man breathing; short, shallow breaths that betrayed his fear. Then Cory and Aleph walked into him. Just stepped inside his body and were gone from sight.

For a few moments nothing happened. The vicar stood still, knowing something was wrong but unable to comprehend what had just occurred. Then his limbs began to twitch, as if he was having a mild fit. He sank to his knees, a look of blind terror on his face. The two demons were inside his head. Kate could only imagine what they were making him see and hear, but he was tearing at the air now, then ripping his shirt open and clawing at his chest. Blood poured from his nipples as he twisted and pulled at them. Kate looked away. She could hear laughter but couldn’t place where from. It seemed as if it was seeping from the walls. She looked back at the vicar. The flesh on his face was rippling. One eye had been pushed from its socket. Kate could see a finger poking through the hole. Then the man, still kneeling on the floor of the chapel with his head thrown back, was dead. His one remaining eye stared up at the pulpit. Two forms, as light as smoke, left him. Cory and Aleph, intoxicated on what they had just done, swayed toward her.

Her first thought was to run. But the desire to know what they’d done, and why, was stronger. And she didn’t want to leave Cory. She was playing to different rules now, perhaps to none at all. Or was she simply making excuses for Cory’s behaviour?

“It’s okay,” said Aleph, as he lay down on the pew behind her. “He was a good man. He’s a dead cert for Heaven.”

As the three of them wandered the streets, Kate thought about Cory, and wondered if she was in love with her. Cory was not afraid of what she was; it made things so simple. It worried her too, that things seemed to be resolving themselves, that she might at last be happy with herself and her feelings, for surely as soon as she was at peace, she would find herself back at the gates of Heaven or Hell. Neither place was where she wanted to be.

And how did Cory feel about her? Kate was learning that a demon was more a free spirit than the Devil’s sidekick. Cory and Aleph were hedonistic, and selfish to a great degree, but they had rescued her from those first, awful moments after death and were trying to help her. Could there be room for her here? Cory had said that Kate belonged with them. Eternity with her and Aleph did not seem an unhappy prospect. And she was no longer concerned about the vicar’s death. He had, after all, been released from the confines of his body and his life. Living people were becoming alien to her - there was so much they didn’t know. But could a demon feel love? That was the question now.

Suddenly she was surrounded by images and feelings. It was like being in a hall of mirrors. Everywhere she looked, there were glimpses of people talking, shouting, laughing, crying. A dog running on a beach. A man and a woman arguing. Children throwing snowballs at each other. Then it was gone. She was back in the street and Aleph was grinning at her.

“Careless,” he said. “You just stepped in someone’s soul. You should mind where you put your feet.”

Kate turned. There was an old man walking down the street, oblivious to what had happened.

“Don’t let them dump their memories and emotional shit on you,” said Cory. “Get in there first and express some feelings of your own. It’s more fun.”

So Kate did. A young businesswoman, power-dressed and with a mobile phone at her ear, was coming their way. Kate walked deliberately into her. She lost herself, just for a moment - the feeling of being inside a physical body again was disorienting - but then steadied herself. She thought of all the pain, the anger she’d felt before she died and tried to channel it outwards. The woman slipped from her grasp and pulled away. The mobile clattered to the floor. The woman was crouched beside it, hands over her face, sobbing hysterically.

Kate felt Cory’s arms around her waist. “Well done,” she whispered. “Now go back in there.”

Kate hesitated, but only for a moment, and stepped back inside. She was surrounded by her host’s memories and thoughts, but it was easier to deal with this time. It was like browsing through a reference library; here was a section on a childhood spent in fear of bullies, here was her first sexual experience, and here was a bitter grudge against a builder who’d overcharged her more than a year ago. Mingled in were a mish-mash of feelings, a strange concoction. Most powerful was a sense of grief and shock. This is what Kate had left her with.

“What have you done, you naughty girl?” Cory had entered the woman and was beside her. There was no mistaking the lust in her voice. Kate felt power surging within her. She held Cory’s face, kissed her forcefully on the lips. “I want to fuck you. Right now. Right here.” Cory offered no resistance, and they sank down together among the confusion and pain of their host’s mind.

Aleph had returned to the cemetary and was waiting by Kate’s grave. It was no longer a mess of mud and flowers, instead stood a simple headstone with the inscription “Kate, we will always miss you”. A fresh wreath rested against it.

Kate and Cory appeared, hand in hand.

“You’ve been dead two years now, Kate,” said Aleph, “and still your parents put flowers on your grave. Maybe they did love you after all. It’s certainly more than I get.”

He sat down. “Well, while you two lovebirds were fucking in that poor woman’s mind, I was having some fun of my own -”

The baby had awoken, screaming, thrashing, in a vain attempt to fight Aleph off. The demon toyed with him, making him see monsters leaning over into the cot, then had the child hallucinate being aborted; he saw the inside of his mother’s womb, then blinding light, before being thrown into an incinerator by a leering surgeon. As Aleph leaves, he considers the effect this will have on the rest of the child’s life
.

“What a mindfuck!” he laughed.

Kate looked at her grave and felt nothing but contentment. She felt more real - more, alive, even - than ever before. No longer in awe of Cory, just happy and comfortable with her. She had told Cory she loved her, and for the first time Kate had seen fear in the woman’s eyes, but she had stayed. At last, Kate was at peace.

In the early hours of the next morning, Kate sat on the steps outside the chapel looking at the stars. She could feel the cold, when she wanted to. There was a cat, skulking around on the far side of the cemetary. Kate passed through it and out again, for a few seconds feeling what it felt, seeing what it saw. She left it unharmed. She’d always had a soft spot for cats.

One of the stars burned more fiercely than the rest. It flickered like a candle, each time re-appearing closer than the last. Kate watched it get closer, realising eventually that it was a figure, a winged man flying down toward her. As he circled her, Kate recognised him as the angel who had turned her away from Heaven, aeons ago it seemed. She stood to meet him. When he spoke he sounded as self-righteous as ever.

“I have come to lead you to Heaven,” he said. “You are at peace with yourself now. You have earnt your place in Paradise at God’s side.”

Kate took a step back, towards the chapel. She knew this moment would come, and had been dreading it. After everything that had happened, everything she’d done, she was not going to just up and leave for a place she was not even sure she believed in. She was aware that her own power was growing, but what was the angel capable of? Could he take her by force? It didn’t sound as if he was giving her a choice.

“I’m not going. I’m not worthy, remember?”

“That was a long time ago. You have made peace with yourself, therefore you have made peace with God. The demons you have been consorting with are leading you astray. Now is your chance to escape them. Stay and you will be lost to God.”

“Is that a promise?”  Kate breathed a sigh of relief to find that Cory and Aleph were on either side of her.

The angel held out his hand. “Come, child,’ he cooed. “You will know eternal peace with me.”

Cory stroked Kate’s face, slowly and deliberately, with her finger. “Don’t you listen? She’s happy because she’s here, with us. Why ever do think she’d want to spend eternity with
you
?”

The angel rose to the provocation. He threw his arms open. “Come here
now
!” he demanded.

Kate lurched forward, towards the angel’s arms. Something was dragging her to him. Aleph stepped in front of her, blocking the angel’s influence.

The angel opened his mouth and screamed fire. Cory threw Kate back, into the chapel. “You can’t fight this, not yet. Wait for us in the catacombs.” Cory hesitated. “We shaln’t let him take you.” It was the closest Cory would ever get to a declaration of love, Kate knew. For now, it would have to be enough.

A wall of flame hid the angel from sight. Kate saw Cory and Aleph silhouetted against it. There was a confusion of shapes, then they were changing, transforming themselves into fantastic beasts, the stuff of mythology. They leapt through the flames. The angel, afraid now, rose up into the air, with the two demons tearing at his wings. Kate made for the narrow steps that wound down to the catacomb. She hid herself amongst the coffins, watched the flickering light at the top of the stairs, and swore that this would be the last time she ran from anything.

When the flames died down and the sun began to rise, Kate climbed cautiously back upstairs. The chapel was damaged. The fire had claimed some of the frontage, and there were deep furrows in the ground outside. There must have been quite a fight. The scorched grass was still smoking sulkily, but nothing else moved.

Kate spent the morning searching the cemetary. There were no bodies, no clues. At midday, with the sun blazing overhead, she returned to the chapel. If only she’d stayed and fought. It was so stupid - she hadn’t wanted to argue with Cory, or stop her feeling noble, or heroic, so she’d done as she was told, and hidden. As the hours wore on, and she paced the chapel and the catacombs, anger gave way to fear and then to faith, that Cory and Aleph would return, as soon as they could. She would have to make sure she was there for them.

She settled herself down, on the floor of the chapel. She was away from the sun, but could see outside. The days and nights began to pass. The chapel was repaired. People came and went: visitors to the catacombs, couples to be married, those paying their last respects to the dead. Some would stop, and stare at the place Kate sat, thinking that perhaps they’d seen something there, before dismissing it as a trick of the light. A few would refuse to stay for more than a few moments, saying they had a ‘bad feeling’ about the place. In time, the chapel would get a name, a reputation, as a haunted place. But for now  the days and nights became months, and years. Time was passing, flowing like a river, unstoppable. Kate waited, alone, as she had been in life, but having known real happiness, in hope, unable to leave.

And Kate didn’t worry. After all, she had forever.

[Originally published in Kimota 6, Summer 1997]

GAME OVER

by Stuart Young

As Jason stood waiting for his tube to arrive he fretted over his forthcoming job interview. He was terrified that he would actually get the job.

For most of his twenty years he had managed to avoid full-time employment, apart from a six month period immediately after leaving school when his Saturday job at the local supermarket had somehow metamorphosed into a nine to five. He had absolutely loathed working there and, after being given the push, had resolved never to work anywhere unless he was certain that it was the kind of work he wanted to do.

Unfortunately he had been unable to get any work in his chosen field as a games designer. His ideas were always too innovative, too ground-breaking. Or, as he had been told at one interview, too crap.

Jason knew this was rubbish, he knew how games worked. He had played with every game he could get his hands on. Whenever he visited any of his younger relatives he always played with them, carefully studying their latest toys and, if it was a particularly good one, hijacking it for himself, leaving his young cousins sulking in the corner. Yet despite his expertise in the psychology of games his career was being blocked by other people’s lack of vision.

And now, the ultimate indignity, he was being forced to apply for jobs outside of the game industry.

His girlfriend, Emma, had been the first to suggest it.

“But I’ve only ever wanted to work with games,” protested Jason.  “Anything else would just be a waste of time.”

“You’re wasting your time now,” Emma pointed out. “You could be doing something productive with your life.”

“Jobs aren’t productive. They’re just a way of killing time until we die. When you get down to it one activity is as pointless as any other, it’s just that people don’t want to admit that they’re wasting their lives.”

“So your reluctance to get a job is due to a profound understanding of the human condition?”

“S’right.”

“It’s not because you’re a lazy bastard then?”

“That’s just a coincidence.”

It had been worse when his parents worked out how much money it was costing them to keep him at home.  “You’ve got to start paying your own way,” his dad had said. “Or you’re out on your ear.”

Jason hadn’t been able to find a philosophical argument to that one.

Reluctantly he had sent off a few applications and had been horrified when he was accepted for an interview.

Glancing at the clock on the information board he saw that he was late for his interview. His tardiness would probably count against him. At least he hoped it would.

But even without the need to get somewhere quickly waiting for a tube was still a frustrating experience and Jason soon wore the same exasperated expression as the other commuters. He fidgeted with his collar, his suit was becoming hot and sticky. He almost wished that the train would arrive so he could be cooled by the breeze its movement would bring.

Bored, Jason did all the things that people do whilst waiting for trains. He shuffled his feet aimlessly; checked the other commuters for anyone fanciable enough to fantasise about; stared at the tracks, wondering what it would feel like to throw himself upon the third rail. That was the problem with waiting for trains, it induced a sense of despair, the time to wallow in it and the means by which to end the suffering. Jason wondered why there weren’t more suicides at tube stations. Probably because most people never really thought about the futility of their journey; to rush from one place to another so they could do the same things as in the place they had just left, if they did they would surely hurl themselves onto the tracks.

Jason smiled to himself. He could think up some right old bollocks when he started daydreaming.

The train still hadn’t arrived and he was toying with the idea of just giving up the interview when he noticed the noughts and crosses grid on the wall. Someone had drawn it in the tiles with a felt-tip pen. The grid was full apart from one square that would allow the crosses to win.

Jason sidled over to the grid and traced the final cross on the wall with his finger. Then, with mixed feelings of childishness and elation, he drew a line through the crosses to finalise his victory.

He was about to turn away when lights started flashing before his eyes. Fearing that he was about to faint from the heat he put a hand to his head. Only his head wasn’t there any more. His whole body had vanished, yet still he existed in some other form of being. Around him the tube station dissolved, everything swirling together in a whirlpool effect to vanish at the central point, like water running down a plug-hole.

Jason was left floating in limbo, a tiny dot in a vast plain of emptiness. He tried calling for help but he had no mouth, even if he had he wasn’t sure if sound existed in this strange dimension in which he found himself. Just as he began to fear that he had gone mad the world slowly re-materialized about him.

But it wasn’t the same world.

Now he stood in a huge room, the ceiling far above his head and the walls at least one hundred metres in each direction.

The room was full of games. Board games were stacked high on shelves; a computer had a demo of a shoot-’em-up game running across its screen; there was a football goal and a basketball hoop at one end of the room; two sets of virtual reality gear lay on a table. There was also the ugliest monster doll that Jason had ever seen. Easily two metres tall, the beast was heavily muscled with veins popping out of its arms; vicious looking claws sprouted from each finger, the skull was all jaw and brow, the former housing fangs, the latter resembling a rock formation, with four beady eyes, arranged in a diamond pattern, set well back in the wall of bone. Jason was glad that he had never had such a doll when he was a child, it would surely have given him nightmares.

The doll moved.

Its body lowered into an attacking posture; shoulders curved, legs bent, ready to spring forwards in an instant; arms at shoulder height, claws pointing forward. Its eyes burned into Jason, identifying him as its prey. The sight was terrifying to behold but then the monster made it worse. It smiled.

Jason lost control of his bladder. Warm piss ran down his trouser-leg and out over his left shoe, forming a small puddle at his feet.

The monster took a step forward, its massive foot making a sharp booming noise on the floor that could easily be mistaken for thunder. The sudden noise made Jason jump back a step.

With a savage roar the monster leapt at him, its claws outstretched. It landed just in front of him, skidded in the pool of piss and fell on its face.

Jason turned and fled. Regaining its feet the monster ran after him. Jason started for the far wall but changed direction when he realised there was no door. Nor was there one in the next wall. He stared frantically about the room to see where the exit was.

There wasn’t one.

The room was completely sealed off. There were no doors or windows of any sort. Even the ceiling, which was too far away to reach, had no skylight. He was trapped.

With a sob of despair Jason ran past a nearby pile of toys and games, knocking them onto the floor behind him in an attempt to slow the monster down. So far he had managed to keep out of range of its claws but it was only a matter of time before it boxed him into a corner. The monster snatched up a skipping rope and started swinging it round its head as it chased after Jason. As he dodged to one side the monster lassoed his leg with the skipping rope. Jason fell heavily to the floor.

The monster started to haul him in on the rope. Desperately Jason tried to kick his leg free but the rope held fast. He clawed at it with his fingers and it fell away. But too late. The monster stood above him, talons raised.

The claws tapped him lightly on the shoulder.  “You’re it,” said the monster.

Jason stared up at the beast in disbelief.  “W-what?”

“You’re it,” repeated the monster. It started skipping about lightly on its toes, taunting him. “Bet you can’t catch me.”

Jason stayed where he was, trying to control the trembling that ran through his body.

At his lack of response the monster stopped dancing and eyed him curiously. “You do know what’s going on here, don’t you?’

Jason shook his head. 

The monster sighed.  “Sorry, I thought you’d been told.”

“Told what?”

The monster sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him.  “You’re here to compete in  a challenge with me.”

Jason didn’t like the sound of that.  “What sort of challenge?”

“Games, of course! Every five hundred years the Elders of the Universe choose a challenger, that’s you, to compete in a tournament of games against Ty’rek the Gamesmaster, that’s me.”

“Why?”

Ty’rek shrugged.  “That’s just the kind of thing that cosmic beings do.”

Jason looked about the room. He knew he was pretty good at most of the games he could recognise but there were several that he had never seen before.  “Do we play all the games?”

Ty’rek nodded. “Until we have a clear winner.”

“And then what happens?”

“One of us is rewarded and one of us is punished.”

“What if I refuse to play?”

“Nobody’s ever refused the Elders of the Universe.”

“Maybe it’s about time someone did,” said Jason defiantly.  “How do I talk to the bastards?”

Ty’rek coughed.  “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say that no one’s ever refused them and lived.”

Jason paled.  “So we’re playing tag first are we?”

The game was a disaster. Ty’rek was far faster and more agile than Jason, after ten minutes he had still hadn’t tagged him even once.

“Didn’t do too good there,” grinned Ty’rek. “Let’s try something else.” He pulled out a box of Battleships.

This time Jason kicked his arse. Ty’rek obviously wasn’t used to the game, by the time he started to get the hang of it Jason was too far ahead for him to catch up. Afterwards they played a game from Ty’rek’s home world which resembled Swingball but instead of a ball it used a solid light hologram which projected decoy holograms of itself so you didn’t know which to hit. Jason couldn’t make head nor tail of the game and finished the match tired, frustrated and utterly defeated.

So it went, Ty’rek would have the advantage in one game, Jason in another. Slowly the score started to tip in Ty’rek’s favour as he won more and more games. Jason was terrified, he didn’t want to face the wrath of the Elders of the Universe. He fought back desperately until they were tied. There was only game left to play.

Noughts and crosses.

“This’ll be the decider,” said Ty’rek as they sat down to play.

“But no one ever loses at noughts and crosses,” protested Jason.

“We’ll just have to keep on playing until one of us does.”

Three hours later they were still playing. They had used up eight large pads plus the entire surface of the table drawing their grids. After that they had started scribbling on the walls, pretty soon they would have to use the floor. Jason hoped that he could win before they had to resort to finding a way of drawing on the ceiling.

Jason fought to keep his eyes open as he drew his next nought. He was drained, physically and mentally, all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep, it was an effort just to remain standing. “Can’t we stop yet?” he yawned.

“No.” Ty’rek drew a cross.

“How much longer does this have to go on?”

Ty’rek shrugged. “I had one match go on for over two thousand years.”

Jason drew a nought, only missing the grid they were playing on by a few inches. “Christ, would have thought one of you would’ve won before that. Or died of old age.”

“This room is surrounded by a time bubble, prevents anyone inside it from aging.”

The thought of spending eternity locked in an endless game of noughts and crosses galvanised Jason’s weary brain cells into searching for a means of escape.

“If the match is declared a draw the Elders can’t do anything to us can they?”

“The Elders won’t be satisfied until there’s a winner.”

“But if we play really badly, fake exhaustion or something-”

“They can tell if someone is playing to their full ability, if you hold back they sentence you to a slow and painful death.”

“So we’re stuck?”

“I’d say so.” Ty’rek drew another cross.

Jason stared at the grid. His next move would let him win. Ty’rek was so tired that he had overlooked the two noughts Jason had lined up. He blinked and shook his head, wanting to ensure that his fatigued brain wasn’t playing tricks on him. But there could be no mistake, Ty’rek had definitely lost. Jason drew the final nought and put a line through it. The pen kept going off the end of the grid and down the wall as Jason slumped to the floor, exhausted.

Ty’rek’s twin sets of eyes gazed at the paper sleepily. “Shit.”

“Sorry about that me old son,’ said Jason.  “But it was you or me.”

Ty’rek continued staring at the grid, unable to believe what had happened.  “I haven’t lost a game of noughts and crosses in over three thousand years.”

“First time for everything,” said Jason. He knew he sounded like a smug bastard but he couldn’t help it, he had won, they were going to set him free!

“Well, I suppose I’d better be going then,” said Ty’rek. He patted Jason on the shoulder.  “I hope you’re very happy here.”

Jason sat up sharply. “Fuck you talking about? I won! I’m going home!”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s the loser that gets sent home. The winner becomes the new Gamesmaster and gets to stay here.”

“But - but -”

“Don’t worry, in five hundred years time the Elders of the Universe will send someone to challenge you. Who knows? They might even win.”

Jason leapt off the floor, suddenly no longer tired. “You bastard! That wasn’t fair! I didn’t know the rules!”

Ty’rek shrugged. “Should’ve asked.”

A door appeared in the far wall. Ty’rek walked over and opened it. He paused with his claw on the handle and looked at Jason. “I’m sorry it had to be this way but like you said, it was you or me.”