Part Six: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/12r8xee/bonesaw_vics_cryptozoological_gardens_part_six/
I picked up the phone and, to my absolute horror, I discovered it was my mom on the other end of the line.
Now, don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t like I hated my mom or something, but God rest her soul, that lady was the very definition of passive-aggressive. She brushed aside my attempts at small talk and asked, “Why don’t you call us every now and then? You never call home anymore.”
I started to say, “That’s not true,” but she cut me off by manufacturing a dry, raspy cough. When she was done with her imaginary coughing fit, she said, “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’ve been coughing a lot. Maybe I have something, I don’t know. You know cancer runs in the family, right? Your uncle Raymond had cancer.”
I muttered, “Uncle Raymond smoked two packs a day,” and looked anxiously at the clock on the wall. I had to get going as soon as possible. Time was ticking away.
“Sure, go ahead and dismiss what I’m saying,” Mom responded in a pouting tone, and she coughed again for emphasis. “Everyone is always dismissing me around here. Your father, your aunts and your uncles, your cousins, all of them! They never listen to a word I say! I told your father, ‘If this cough gets any worse, I want you to take me to a doctor.’ And you know what he said to me? Nothing! He just turned up the TV a little more and went back to his newspaper.”
I grunted, “Mom, you’re fine. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
She made an outraged sound in her throat and snapped, “When did you become a doctor? Hmm? When did that happen? You must be pretty good if you can diagnose me over the phone!”
I closed my eyes and groaned, “Will you give it a rest? Stop making yourself cough before you actually hurt yourself, okay? Look, I gotta go. I’ve got this, um, this thing I need to do for work. You know how it is. I’ll call you on Monday, okay? Say hi to Dad for me.”
“I have no idea what you do for work these days,” she said coldly. “It seems like everything is a big mystery with you anymore. Well, before you go, I should tell you that the police came here to ask some questions about you.”
I froze for a moment, and Mom patiently waited for my response. I swallowed hard and croaked, “What kind of questions?”
“They were very personal questions,” she muttered in a disapproving tone. “I just shrugged and told them, ‘I don’t know what to say. Everything is a big mystery these days. He almost never calls.’ That’s what I told them.”
Faintly, I mumbled, “Right, okay, that’s… yeah, okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
There were a few seconds of silence as she waited for further clarification. When she realized that I wasn’t going to elaborate, she angrily cleared her throat and demanded, “Well, why were there two homicide detectives asking me questions about you? Did you kill somebody? Did you see someone get killed? Good gravy, what the heck is going on with you?”
I stammered, “Nothing’s going on, Mom! I didn’t kill anyone, nor did I see anyone get killed. I saw nothing and I know nothing. I have no idea why they showed up at your door, swear to God.”
She grumbled, “You swear to God? Kids these days don’t even believe in God. You all listen to that music and smoke your drugs! Now tell me the truth, kiddo… did you kill someone? Did you kill a prostitute?”
I slapped my free hand against the wall and choked, “Why would you assume it was a prostitute? Holy shit, Mom! Is that what you think of me?”
“Well, everything is a mystery with you anymore,” she shot back. “You’re so secretive. And you never have any girlfriends. I think it’s very strange that you don’t go on any dates with girls.”
I shouted, “That’s because I’m awkward, not because I want to kill them! I can’t believe you! I mean, you coulda just assumed I’m gay or something, but no! You went straight to me being a freakin’ serial killer!”
She growled back, “Don’t yell at your mother. I’m not the one who has the police on their trail. Oh! I should also remind you that it’s your Aunt Glenda’s birthday on Sunday. Did you get her a card?”
I shook my head and muttered, “I’ve literally never given Aunt Glenda a birthday card. She lives on the other side of the country. I’ve only met her three times in my entire life, and she always thinks I’m someone else.”
“That’s no excuse. I’m pretty sure they have mailboxes on the other side of the country. You better get her a card, or you won’t be in her will.”
I grunted, “Damn, I was hoping she’d leave me her collection of fine china. Easy come, easy go. Speaking of which, I gotta go now. Work stuff and all that jazz. Talk to you Monday, bye!”
I quickly hung up the phone and resisted the urge to give it a slap. I’d been hoping the cops had given up on squeezing me for information about Vincent, but I should have known better. I briefly considered calling Vinnie the Pomp, but I decided it would have to wait. I had a more pressing matter at hand. I had to find Kaz. I needed his guidance, and I needed it immediately.
#
I had never been to the zoo on a weekend before. The first thing I noticed was how dark and forbidding the gardens seemed behind the towering fence. The second thing I noticed was that the gate was locked. I couldn’t get in, and I couldn’t buzz for assistance, either. If I used the intercom, the security goons would know I was there.
I put my head in my hands and moaned, “Why is it locked? Why?”
It was two AM on a Saturday morning, and the zoo was closed. Of course it was locked. How did I not foresee this, for God’s sake? How?
Shit. Fuck. God-dammit.
I sat there in my idling car and considered my options. I had been hoping I would be able to sneak into the building without being seen, but I couldn’t even get past the freaking gate. Bingo-bango, my half-baked plans were already dead in the water. I smoked a cigarette in the dark. They still tasted really bad to me, but at least I wasn’t getting lightheaded anymore. I lit another one and tried to think of a way around this particular roadblock. I needed to find Kaz, but I had no idea where to look. The only way to find him was to convince Miss Dahlia to give me his address and phone number, which might prove to be a difficult task all by itself. After all, the Caretakers weren’t supposed to talk to each other outside of work. It was expressly forbidden.
There were two major barriers between me and Miss Dahlia. One barrier was the presence of two or three heavily-armed dickheads who might be wandering around the zoo. The other was a literal barrier, a twenty-foot wall of reinforced steel. And even If I somehow managed to get past both of these formidable obstacles, I would still have another problem waiting for me when I was done. A very large and angry problem named Lenny the Barber.
After the stunt I pulled to get him out of my hair, there was no doubt that Len was going to be furious with me. But that was a concern for later. I had many life-threatening scenarios ahead of me before I had to face that particular hornet’s nest.
According to zoo protocol, one guard was supposed to be monitoring the video cameras at all times, but I knew from working midnights that they rarely paid attention to the cameras, and they almost never patrolled the grounds. They spent most of the night taking turns sleeping in a broom closet. Don’t get me wrong, I can understand their lax attitude. I mean, what was going to happen? Was a thief gonna break in and steal the fucking goblin? If someone actually managed to get into one of the habitats, they’d probably be murdered on the spot.
I rubbed my palms against my eyes and told myself, “Figure out how to get past the gate first. One problem at a time, man.”
I couldn’t get in by myself, so was there anyone who could help me? The sprites? Very doubtful. They seemed like they were all about law and order, and I was trying my best to commit trespassing. If not the sprites, who could possibly help?
A light bulb went on in my head. I tossed a stone against the fence and called out, “Clara! Can you hear me? Over here!”
I held my breath and waited. Within a few moments, I heard a faint scratching against the other side of the gate. It sounded like claws.
I knelt down beside the fence and said, “I need to get inside, but the gate is locked. It’s really important. Can you help me, Clara? I don’t have much time.”
I held my breath and waited to see what would happen next. Within a minute or two, a circular patch of earth started to crumble inward on my side of the fence. Two fuzzy antlers emerged from the hole, along with a pair of long ears, a twitching nose, and a wide fan of whiskers. Clara blinked in the glare of my headlights, and then she disappeared back into the hole.
I shut off my engine, grabbed a flashlight out of the glove box, and then I crawled into the hole. It was actually a tunnel, and it was just exactly wide enough for me to worm my way to the other side. The tunnel sloped downward beneath the buried portion of the fence, and rose back up to exit a few feet from the other side. I suddenly realized the jackalope could escape the zoo any time she felt like it. She was only there because she chose to stay. For Clara, the zoo wasn’t a prison. It was home.
She greeted me at the top of the tunnel by licking my nose and poking me in the eye with her antler. I muttered, “Ow,” and gave her a vigorous petting. I whispered, “You’re the best bunny rabbit in the whole world. You’re the fuckin’ greatest.”
She followed along as I furtively stole my way across the gardens. I skirted the main entrance and let myself into a service tunnel through one of the exit doors. I found myself standing in the Aviary wing, and all was dark and quiet as a tomb. I tiptoed down the corridor like a cat burglar and punched in the code for the pneumatic door, wincing as the deadbolts drew back with a series of bangs and clunks. I had no idea what I would say if I got caught by a security guard. Even if I could convince him I wasn’t doing anything wrong, it would still get back to Vic. And Vic would definitely want to know why I was there.
I just couldn’t get caught, that’s all. It simply wasn’t in the equation.
I stuck close to the wall in the main lobby, trying my best to be invisible. It was gloomy in there, and the silence was thick. When I made it to the door that led to the reception area, I breathed out a long, deep sigh of relief. Everything was going according to plan.
I opened the door and walked right into one of Victor’s security thugs. He had one of Vic’s cigars clenched in his teeth, and three more were sticking out of his jacket pocket. We stared at each other in shock for a moment, and then he grabbed the front of my jacket and growled, “Looky here! It’s the new guy, Bobby Dipshit or whatever.”
I squeaked, “Billy Whitebread,” and he responded by shaking me like a baby rattle.
He said, “I don’t give a shit about your name. What I do care about is why you’re here.”
I tried to push his hands away, and I sputtered, “I’ve got Vic’s permission! He said it was okay if I came back tonight. I had to…”
My mind went blank. Why did I need to come back? I opened my stupid mouth and blurted, “I had to get some stuff out of my locker.”
The guard snapped, “First of all, Vic would’ve let us know you were coming. No one shows up here unannounced, not ever. Second, your locker ain’t in the reception area.”
He shoved me back into the lobby, and my mind seized up with an overload of panic. I was fucked, completely and utterly fucked.
As the security guard was manhandling me into the lobby, a streak of brown suddenly came blazing in from out of nowhere. It slammed into the goon like a cannonball, wham! The impact made him slide fifteen feet across the floor. I let out a strangled cry of surprise and shock.
I could scarcely believe it, but my rescuer was Clara. She hopped over to stand on his chest and aggressively sniff at his unconscious face. She must’ve snuck in behind me when I slipped through the exit door. When she was satisfied the guard was no longer a threat, she hopped over and leaned against my leg. I looked down at her with my mouth hanging open and whispered, “Holy hell. Did you just kill that guy?”
From behind me, Miss Dahlia called out, “You better hope not. That young fellow is Victor’s nephew.”
I poked my head through the doorway and saw her standing beside the waterfall. The water had been shut off for the weekend, and the pool was dark and still. She looked sleepy and irritable in a frumpy nightgown. She saw the puzzled expression on my face and scowled at me.
“What did you expect?” she demanded. “It’s the middle of the night. Stop gawking at me and drag him over here. I can save him.”
At first I thought she was being a little dramatic - I mean, the guard didn’t look that bad - but then I saw a pool of blood oozing from the back of his head. I groaned, “Ah, fuck me,” and started dragging him by the ankles into the reception area. I was already huffing and wheezing by the time I pulled him past the threshold. This guy was built like a refrigerator.
Miss Dahlia said, “Bring him over to the pool. Hurry up! I can hear his heartbeat fading.”
I gasped, “Yeah, mine isn’t doing so good, either. Can you maybe give me a hand? Please? He’s a really big guy.”
The water nymph gave me a sour look and rolled up the sleeves of her nightgown. She grabbed him by one leg and effortlessly dragged him over to the side of the pool. She dribbled a palmful of water across his face, and as the drops rolled down his cheeks, she softly sang to him in a dialect that was probably older than Humankind. Her voice was entrancing. It made me feel at peace.
The thug focused his eyes on her face. He touched the back of his head and croaked, “Why am I on the floor?”
“You had an accident,” she murmured in a soft voice. “You slipped on the floor and fell. You should be more careful next time.”
He blinked up at her with a dazed expression and mumbled, “I slipped and fell. Gotta be more careful next time.”
“That’s right,” she agreed. “Now go find a mop bucket. You made a mess on the floor.”
“Uncle Victor won’t like that,” the guard said faintly, and he heaved himself to his feet. He looked over at me and asked, “Who’s that? Why’s that rabbit got antlers?”
“That’s nonsense,” Miss Dahlia said firmly. “Rabbits with antlers? Absolutely not. There’s nothing there.”
He looked away from us and muttered, “Nothing’s there. Hey, where’d all that blood come from?”
He started to look confused again. Miss Dahlia prompted, “You slipped and hit your head.”
He snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Oh, right! Damn, look at all that blood! Head wounds bleed like a bitch.”
Miss Dahlia sighed, “You’re fine, sugar,” and she pushed him into the lobby. She closed the door behind him and whirled around to confront me, her dark eyes smoldering with irritation.
She growled. “Why are you here? You have absolutely no business being at the zoo tonight. And that goes double for being here, in the reception area! This happens to be my living quarters, did you know that? I literally sleep in that water, you intrusive idiot! You better have a damn good excuse, or I swear to each and every God in the heavens, I’ll grab you by that skinny neck and beat the stupid out of you!”
I gawked at her with my mouth hanging open, and I was suddenly very afraid. There was no doubt in my mind that Miss Dahlia could easily pound the living shit out of me. She had dragged the security goon across the floor like he was made out of feathers. I mean, she was a supernatural being that slept in a pool of river water. Of course she could beat me up.
I looked down at the floor and mumbled, “I’m really, really sorry. Long story short, I need Kazimir’s address. His phone number, too, if he has one. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t have a phone. He’s… you know, kinda weird like that.”
“What for?” she demanded. “Must I remind you it’s against the rules? Y’all can’t speak to each other outside of the zoo, sugar. Victor doesn’t like it.”
I gave her a pleading look and said, “I just really need to talk to him, okay? Believe me, I wouldn’t break into the zoo at night for a laugh. I am one hundred percent scared shitless of Vic, and I would absolutely not risk making him angry if I didn’t have to, so please, please just do me this one favor? Please.”
“No. Now go away before I punch you in the liver.”
I took a deep breath and held my arms away from my body. “Go on, then,” I wheezed. “Do it.”
Miss Dahlia gave me a considering look. Grudgingly, she answered, “I already saved your narrow butt once tonight. You and that mangy rabbit, neither one of you should be here. As for Kaz, well, he’s still on the mend from getting attacked by that ape. He needs his rest.”
I gave her an indignant look and sputtered, “Harry’s not an ape, okay? He’s not an orangutan, he’s not a frickin’ gorilla, he’s a Sasquatch. How would you like it if I called you, like, a pond fairy or something? You wouldn’t like that.”
Miss Dahlia rolled her eyes and shot back, “He’s a smelly, flea-bitten ape, and you’re a foolish little mouse with a death wish. Now get out of here! I’m tired.”
I threw my hands up and hollered, “I’m in a tough spot over here, lady! Okay? Just give me his address, and I’ll leave. I won’t ever come back to the reception area again, I swear.”
Miss Dahlia patted me on the shoulder and, in a husky voice, she said, “Well now, let’s not be hasty.” She walked behind her desk and dug around in a filing cabinet. She called over her shoulder, “If it’s advice you’re looking for, you should go talk to the skinwalker. He’s always tripping into the spirit realm. The spirits can tell you anything you need to know.”
I perked up a little and asked, “Does the succubus hang out in the spirit world, by any chance?”
Miss Dahlia gave me a scornful look. She huffed, “That shameless floozy? She’s got it all hanging out across every plane of existence. She’s a demon. They aren’t bound by time and space.”
The water nymph glared up at the ceiling and yelled, “I hope you heard that! You’re a nasty old floozy and I hope you choke on a neutron star!”
I flinched a little and cautiously asked, “I don’t mean to pry, but why do you hate her so much?”
Miss Dahlia’s eyes became distant. She wrote Kaz’s address down on the back of an envelope and muttered, “Many, many ages ago, she destroyed someone near and dear to my heart. A water nymph doesn’t forget, and we never forgive.”
She handed me the envelope, and there was an awkward pause. I cleared my throat and said, “Okay, I guess I’m off to pay Falling Sky a visit. Thanks again, Miss Dahlia. Sorry to bother you.”
She looked me in the eye and softly said, “Men only come around when they want something, don’t they? Well, good luck, Billy. Don’t be a stranger.”
She reached into the pool and touched her fingertips to the water. As they made contact with the surface, she transformed into a woman-shaped column of liquid, and she flowed into the pool. This happened in a split second, there and gone in the blink of an eye. I leaned over the edge and saw a brief impression of a body beneath the surface, and then I was staring at a murky reflection of my own face.
Vic’s nephew came bursting in with a mop and a bucket. He started mopping up drops and splatters of his own blood, grumbling curses under his breath as he worked. He didn’t seem to notice my presence. Clara and I tiptoed around him, and we headed for the skinwalker’s habitat. It was located in a special wing of the zoo, a ghoul-proof addition that had silver and lead poured into the concrete. It was designated for the undead and the never-living. It was known as the “Other” wing.
I was about to embark on the journey of a lifetime. I was about to trip into the spirit world.
#
Falling Sky was sitting by the bonfire outside his hogan. He called us over with a grin, and he greeted the jackalope like an old friend.
“This one, she is very special,” he told me. “I am glad to see her again. It’s been many hundreds of years since we last met.”
I gave them both a surprised look and asked, “How did you meet?”
Falling Sky lit his pipe and said, “I was living as a rattlesnake in those days. I came out to bask in the sun one morning, and I was snatched up by an eagle. I was already in the air before I knew what was happening. I couldn’t change back, or we would both fall to the ground. The eagle took me to her nest, and when she landed, I turned into a bear. I killed her with one swipe of my paw. So you see, the eagle soars high and far, but the bear will always come out the victor.”
I waited for more, but Falling Sky just sat there and nodded at me in a wise manner, squinting through a haze of pipe tobacco. Finally, I asked, “So where does Clara come into this story?”
Solemnly, he said, “Oh, I met her sometime after that. I think it was on a Thursday. I’m just saying, a bear will always defeat an eagle. They’re too big.”
I saw the glassy sheen in his eyes and asked, “You’re blasted right now, aren’t you?”
“I walk among the stars,” he grinned, and he made wiggling motions with his fingers. “Poof, jingle, jangle, in the sky they dangle.”
“Right. Okay, um, I was just thinking that maybe I could… um, I could, like, try some of that tea with you? Is that okay?”
Falling Sky slapped his hands together and rubbed them like a supervillain. He cackled, “I would be honored to be your guide. How far do you wish to go?”
I gave him an uncertain look and shrugged at him. “I dunno,” I answered. “All the way, I guess. I want to visit the spirit world.”
His gaze grew somber. He asked, “Are you sure? Such a journey, it changes people. Not always for the better.”
I gave him an unhappy look and said, “I’m not sure, no, but I feel like I don’t have much of a choice. I need to talk to the succubus.”
Falling Sky looked alarmed. He held up a hand and shushed me, his eyes darting around in all directions. He whispered, “She is a monster that is feared by other monsters. The spirits can be frightening enough on their own. Why would you wish to come face-to-face with the eater of souls?”
“It’s complicated. Look, just give me the tea, all right? I have to do this.”
Slowly, he said, “You are either very brave, or very stupid. Either way, I will be your guide. Drink this, and brace yourself for what is to come.”
The tea was very hot in the tin mug, and it tasted incredibly fucking bad. I’d never tasted anything so bitter and strange in my whole, entire life. I struggled not to gag on the first swallow. Falling Sky urged me to drink it all down in one go.
I steeled myself against the taste, and I got it all down. It was fucking horrible. I cried out in anguish and struggled not to puke into the desert sand. Falling Sky handed me a wooden bowl filled with honey, and I poured a big, sticky mouthful of it directly down my throat.
I gasped, “Oh my God,” and I almost started to cry. It tasted that frigging bad. It was just… hooo boy, it was bad. I gagged again and sobbed, “Oh God, oh fuck, oh shit…”
Clara looked very concerned. She tried to nuzzle my face, and she almost knocked me off my log with her antlers. I gently pushed her down and said, “No thanks, I don’t need to get poked in the eye right now.”
“Yeah,” the skinwalker mused, “I guess it is pretty horrible, isn’t it? I suppose it could use some sugar or something. I’ve been drinking it for hundreds of years, so I don’t really notice anymore.”
“I should’ve plugged my nose,” I wheezed, and I wiped tears from my eyes. I added, “I took a big risk coming here tonight. I could’ve been killed at least twice already. Should I prepare myself for a third time?”
“At least once more, yes,” he agreed. “But that is the thrill of the trip! Eagle versus bear, my young friend. Which will you become?”
I muttered, “It doesn’t matter. I’m already dying over here.” I felt as nauseous as I’ve ever been in my life. I tried to control my breathing, and I focused all my will on not throwing up the tea.
“Choose!” the skinwalker urged, and he leaned forward on his log. His eyes were darting around in their sockets at random, and he was smiling like a lunatic.
I spat into the dirt and quavered, “I choose machine gun. I’d blast both of those motherfuckers and be done with it. How’s that? Good gravy, this tea is the worst drink in the whole fucking world.”
Falling Sky gave me a deeply offended look. Sarcastically, he said, “Ha ha, that’s very funny. Are you mocking the ritual, you pasty wad of seagull droppings? Huh? You better not be mocking the ritual, my friend. This is my heritage.”
I snorted, “Oh, come on! Being a skinwalker is not part of your heritage. Your people disapprove of that kind of thing, don’t they? It’s not like your parents sent you off to Navajo Witch School to get a degree in shapeshifting. What a dumb thing to say.”
“Well, you’re certainly in a mood, aren’t you?” Falling Sky grumbled. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle a little mug of tea. You even started crying! Don’t deny it, I saw you. You’re a wimpy little cry-monkey.”
I gave him a sharp look and demanded, “What the hell is a cry-monkey? Do you mean crybaby? Yeah, maybe I cried a little, but at least I never spent any time living as a snake. Lemme tell ya something, man. That’s fucking weird. Slithering around in the sand and just, like, eating mice and lizards and… you know, fuckin’ scorpions and shit! Fucking why, man? That’s just weird.”
cont’d below