This continuation to my story about the worst (and also best) job I ever had begins with me waking up early in the evening and immediately crying out in agony. I felt like a rotten patch of roadkill that was beaten with a stick. My back, legs, shoulders and arms were screaming, and everything else was quietly sobbing in distress. On top of all the muscle pulls and strains, my palms were stinging like a mad bastard from the numerous blisters that had popped while I was sleeping. There’s a damn good reason why you see one person digging and four others standing around when you drive past a road crew; it’s not because the rest of them are a bunch of lazy bastards, it’s because several people need to take turns on the shovel. Digging large holes is very hard fucking work. If that worker on the shovel was the only one digging all day, they’d… well, they would end up like me the next morning, oozing out of bed with a string of curses on my lips and a grimace of pain on my face.
I lurched into the shower and let the water beat down on my aching flesh until it started to run cold. After I got dressed, I popped some Tylenol, crawled onto the couch, and prayed that I would either start to feel better, or simply die and be released from my suffering. After a while, the agony receded a bit (and I didn’t pass away) leaving me no choice but to haul my poor carcass off the couch and go to work.
The guards at the entrance seemed especially hostile that evening. I could almost taste their pent-up aggression in the air. As I limped through the big double doors, one of them said, “I’m kinda surprised to see you, kid. Didn’t think you’d be coming back.”
I grimly ignored him and made my way across the wide, empty expanse of the lobby. Kaz was already waiting at the service entrance, a heavy steel door that was marked EXIT to keep the guests from getting curious about what was on the other side. I checked my watch and shook my head at him in irritation.
“Man, do you friggin’ live here or something? God, I’m almost twenty five minutes early and you’re already suited up.”
Kaz ignored my grumpy accusation and quietly said, “I will tell you something, boy… I did not know if I would see you tonight. Or any other night, for that matter. I know when a man has murder in his heart. Len fondly wished to kill you last night. Whatever you did to make him so angry, you should probably not do it again.”
I leaned closer and lowered my voice to a whisper. “The problem has disappeared. Don’t worry, it’s done.”
Kaz gazed down at me with a mildly benign expression and said, “I was not worried. I just did not expect you to still be alive.”
I rolled my eyes and stormed off to get changed. Without the extra layer of chainmail, the safety gear consisted of a body suit made from a thin layer of Kevlar, knee-high leather boots, and a pair of close-fitting leather gauntlets. Once I struggled and shoved myself into these uncomfortable items of apparel, the next step was to strap on the awkward, ridiculous-looking utility belt. This snappy ensemble was completed with a thick, silver chain around my neck and a squirt gun of silver nitrate in a hip holster. I was ready to go wrangle the undead.
The first task on hand was to check in on Katherine the ghost, who was keeping herself amused by engaging in creepy ghost activities. More specifically, she was creaking back and forth in a rocking chair with her severed head in her lap. I tucked away my mirror and groaned, “I can’t do it, man. I can’t look at her. It’s too sad and gross and fucked up. Who did that to her?”
Kaz shrugged and said, “No one knows. It was suspected that her father had killed her in a fit of rage, but it could not be proven. He moved his family to a different town soon after the funeral. It is likely he was afraid of vigilante justice.”
“Can you imagine being this kid’s mom?” I muttered. “Stuck living with this guy after he killed your daughter? If I was her, I woulda got him piss-drunk and shoved him down the stairs. I’d just tell everyone I found him that way. Fuck it.”
Kaz ventured, “Eh, perhaps she did exactly that,” and he gave me a noncommittal shrug. “Or perhaps she was also involved in her daughter’s murder, who knows? The truth has been buried by the passage of time.”
I grimaced and said, “It may have happened a long time ago, but that doesn’t somehow make it better.”
Kaz shrugged again and said, “Maybe not, but what can you do? You cannot lament the fate of the dead forever. You must focus on the present and have hope for the future. Do you see?”
I snapped, “That’s all fine and dandy if you’re not the one carrying your head around like a freaking Jack-‘o’lantern. She probably has a different perspective.”
I thought about what I’d just said and added, “Uh, no pun intended. Just… you know.”
“Fair enough,” Kaz said briskly, and he nudged me along the corridor. “We will not stop at Salvatore’s habitat tonight. I think it is best for you to avoid him for now.”
I shook my head and grunted, “Nah, I wanna talk to him. I have a few questions for that guy.”
Kaz gave me a slight ghost of a smile and quietly murmured, “Do you not remember the story of Foolish Olaf? You are perilously close to milking the bull. Those who milk the bull are often sent to an early grave.”
His tone was mild, but Kazimir’s gaze was sharp as a knife. I was in a darkly foul mood, but that look in his eyes wasn’t something to fuck with. I looked at the floor and muttered, “Point taken.”
Kaz nodded approvingly and clapped me on the shoulder, which made me wince and let out a low groan. He said, “Come along, and I will show you the skinwalker.”
I gave him the side-eye and muttered, “What’s a skinwalker? That sounds bad.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Come and see.”
#
The door to the skinwalker’s habitat was labeled:
SKINWALKER, MALE
AGE UNKNOWN
Someone with a rudimentary sense of humor had slapped a sticker on the door below this that read, WELCOME TO ARIZONA, THE GRAND CANYON STATE.
I peeked through the observation window and squinted into the dim moonlight on the other side of the glass. I could see a silhouette of a small, rounded structure in the middle of the room. The floor appeared to be covered with a layer of hard-packed dirt and stones. I couldn’t see anything overtly ominous happening in there, but a chill walked its cold fingers down my spine nonetheless. It’s hard to explain, but there was a silvery tint in the pallid moonlight that didn’t quite belong. It reminded me of those old stereoscopic images from Victorian times. It was… well, it was fucking weird. It made me feel uneasy. Something wasn’t right in there, no doubt about it.
I felt a light tap on my shoulder and I flinched. I whirled around and snarled, “Can you maybe not do that?”
Kaz looked down at me with his standard non-expression and said, “You are far too nervous. You must learn how to be calm.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I was starting to get a monster headache. I sighed, “No, no, I’m perfectly calm. See? Look, I’m the calmest man alive. So, what’s in there, exactly, and how will it kill me?”
Kaz proceeded to launch into lecture mode. He clasped his hands behind his back and said, “He was once a Navajo holy man, but he made a pact with the forces of evil in exchange for his remarkable abilities. He can change shape at will and adopt the likeness of any number of creatures from the natural world. He is no longer a mortal man.”
I raised an eyebrow and said, “Yeah, that does sound bad. Where is this guy? Is he sleeping in that mud hut thingy? I mean, it’s the middle of the night and all, right?”
“That’s a hogan. It’s a traditional Navajo house. But no, Falling Sky does not sleep. He says he forgot how to sleep many years ago.”
Despite the fact I was feeling like a pile of moldy garbage, my natural curiosity was piqued. I asked, “His name is Falling Sky? The dude’s probably a huge dick or whatever, but still, that’s a fucking cool name.”
“He has many identities,” Kaz said with a wry smile. “He has lived many lives. He is very old, this one.”
Kaz punched in the code and motioned at the open door.
I let out a nervous chuckle and asked, “So, what are we actually supposed to do in there? Sweep the dirt around?”
Kaz motioned at the open door impatiently and said, “He is an intelligent being, and he was once a mortal man. He craves interaction with his own kind. You will go in, say hello, and ask if he wishes for some company this evening.”
I lingered at the threshold and started searching through the compartments on my utility belt. I asked, “What do I use to keep this dude from killing me? Will the silver nitrate back him up? There’s, like, some dried-up roots or something in this pocket here-”
Kaz shook his head. “None of that would protect you, but do not worry. Falling Sky will not harm you. He does not dare. Victor knows his true name. If Victor were to speak his true name out loud, it would destroy him.”
I gave him an incredulous look and exclaimed, “Fucking what? Who is he, Rumplestiltskin? That’s just kinda ludicrous, man.”
“Ludicrous or not, it is the only thing that prevents him from leaving,” Kaz grunted. “It is also the only thing that prevents him from tearing us limb from limb. Now stop wasting time and go in. We still have many other things to attend to this evening.”
I grumbled to myself and stepped into the silvery moonlight. Kaz immediately swung the steel door shut behind me. I took a few hesitant steps into the arid plains setting and called out, “Hello? Hey, um, I’m the new Caretaker’s assistant. Do you feel like talking to somebody, or, you know… I could just, like, leave, or…”
I trailed off. No one answered me. I blinked around me, adjusting my eyes to the dim lighting. There was only one structure inside the habit, a small, dome-shaped building with a stone foundation. The roof appeared to be made from a sun-baked mixture of mud, gravel and sticks. There was a fire pit beside the building with a couple logs for benches, and precious little else.
I called out, “Hello?” once again, and then my eyes were drawn to a rapid blur of movement approaching my feet. I was being charged by an enormous scorpion. The fucking thing was almost as long as my hand. I screeched, “Holy SHIT!” and leaped away in a shuffling backwards dance, my arms flailing in the air. At the same time, there was a dull flash of silvery light, and suddenly I was looking at a tall, weathered-looking Navajo man.
Falling Sky was bare chested, clad in only a pair of homespun cotton pants and a pair of low-cut moccasins on his feet. His hair was tied back with a thin strip of leather, and his wiry torso was covered in dozens of old and faded scars. My first coherent thought was, “This fucking guy has been through some shit.”
He laughed at my shocked expression and boomed, “Yá’át’ééh, little brother! I apologize for scaring you like that. I forgot I was a scorpion.”
“Hey, no problem,” I said faintly. “It happens sometimes.”
The skinwalker grinned down at me and said, “I wouldn’t mind some company for a spell, why not? Here, have a seat by the fire.”
The pile of dead branches in the firepit suddenly erupted in a crackling blaze, illuminating the immediate area in a flickering glow of orange and red. I slowly walked over to the fire, getting ready to spin around and run like hell for the door at the first sign of fuckery. Falling Sky held up his hands and said, “I won’t hurt you, little brother. Not tonight. Would you like some tea?”
I abruptly realized there was a kettle bubbling away over the fire. I stared down at it and said, “Uh, that depends, I guess. What kind of tea?”
He grinned at me again and croaked, “The kind that will open your mind to the spirit world.”
At that point, I abruptly realized that Falling Sky was higher than a kite. I could see in the light of the fire that his eyes were glassy and his pupils were dilated. He had a vaguely confused expression on his face, but his lips kept twitching upward into a maniacal smile. I knew that look very well from personal experience: Falling Sky was tripping balls on some kind of hallucinogen.
I shook my head and said, “No thanks. I probably shouldn’t do that sort of thing on the job.”
“Your boss over there, he did it once,” the skinwalker confided in a hushed tone. “He drank some tea and told me his entire life story. He said he couldn’t see the spirits, but I think he was lying to himself.”
I raised my eyebrows and said, “No shit. Kaz?”
Falling Skies let out a high-pitched giggle and clapped his hands together.
“There’s many things you don’t know about your boss, little brother. Are you sure you don’t want any tea? The veil will be lifted between you and the spirit world. It’s powerful medicine. You should try it sometime.”
He suddenly gave me a sharp look and growled. “Do you know it?”
I blinked at him in confusion and asked, “Know what?”
“My true name. Do you know it?”
“Oh, um, no,” I stammered, “not at all. I didn’t even know you existed until a few minutes ago.”
Falling Sky relaxed back onto his log. He looked up at the skylights high above our heads and muttered, “I’d die a thousand deaths to carve my name out of his brain, but I only have one life to give. Do you know how old I am?”
I shook my head, and he whispered, “Me neither. I don’t even know anymore. So many years have slipped away, and now they’re gone.”
Falling Sky scooped up a handful of the coarse, sandy earth and let it trickle through his fingers. With his other hand, he took a delicate sip from a tin mug and grimaced. He said, “Good medicine, but it tastes like horse shit.”
In a more somber tone, he added, “The spirits are saying that you were touched by the Fae. They’re watching you. You should be very careful, little brother. Their kind are from beyond this world. They come from somewhere high above.”
He gestured at the sky lights with his free hand.
“They’ll take you away,” he sighed. “Far away from this world. And once you’re gone, you can’t come back.”
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. How could he possibly know about that? I carefully studied the empty air around us and asked, “Are the spirits here with us right now? What… what are they doing?”
“Nothing much,” Falling Sky chuckled. “They just drift around and observe. Their time of trials and tribulations is over. Now they are blessed to be idle in the next world.”
I thought about it for a second, then said, “Okay, that actually does sound pretty sweet.”
Something flickered behind the skinwalker’s goony grin, and his expression abruptly went dark. He leaned closer and hissed, “I will never walk among my ancestors. When my time comes, I’ll be destroyed in both body and spirit. It’s the price I paid to cheat death.”
Slowly, I asked, “So… let me see if I understand the situation correctly, okay? This is something that you, like, you just kinda signed up for? You weren’t always a skinwalker, right? You went and made a deal with some dude or whatever, and they let you into the club?”
Falling Sky gawked at me with those wide, dilated eyes for a few moments, and then he threw his head back and laughed - quite literally - like a loon. He slapped his knee and wheezed, “You could say that, sure. I voluntarily signed up to join the skinwalker club.”
Falling Sky’s expression became somber. He looked into the fire and said, “I did it because I wanted vengeance. I thought I’d just allow myself to be destroyed when I was done, but after I finally got my revenge… um, I don’t… I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to stop.”
He nodded to himself thoughtfully, still staring into the fire. His eyes were haunted.
“It feels good to be powerful,” he whispered. “It feels good to wear the skin of the mountain lion, to live as they live beneath the blue sky. There’s no future, just here and now. I have killed and eaten men, many of them, and you know what? It wasn’t a crime. It wasn’t murder, if you understand what I mean. I was just eating, and all living things must eat. When I was wearing the skin of another creature, I was pure. I was at one with the world of wolf and deer, fish and fowl, and I was free. I miss those days, little brother. I miss them with all of my heart.”
The skinwalker continued to stare into the fire. The weathered planes of his face were a roadmap of grief, longing, and regret by the dancing light of the fire. I shifted around uncomfortably on my log and clutched my silver necklace. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to feel the potential for unpredictable violence in the skinwalker’s inner turmoil.
I lifted it up for him to see and murmured, “Sorry to interrupt, but does this thing, you know, will it protect me from you? Because I seriously fucking hope so.”
“I don’t like it much,” he admitted grudgingly, “and that silver nitrate crap stings like a bastard. But none of that stuff could stop me from killing you, if that’s what I wanted to do. The big boss, he’s the one who stops me from killing you. If he speaks my name, I will be destroyed. Don’t get the wrong impression, I would welcome the end if it meant I could finally join the ancestors… but I can’t do that. If I died, I would simply disappear. I’ll be honest, little brother… that scares me. There are many brave souls out there who aren’t afraid to die, but I believe everyone is scared to not exist anymore. That’s why the gods exist. People need to believe there is more after death, or they cannot bear to continue. What is the point of suffering life if there is no reward?”
I thought of Salvatore, and I countered, “Well, most of us are scared of not existing, but maybe not everyone. Listen, this was, um, enlightening, but I’m gotta go. Me and Kaz have a lot of stuff to do.”
“Tell your boss the dead are still following him,” Falling Sky said casually. “They’re waiting for him in the spirit world.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just gave him a slight nod and headed for the door. I turned to look back as I left, and I saw that he had silently turned into an enormous wolf while my back was turned. He was watching me with hungry eyes, no doubt longing for the days when he destroyed his enemies with a head full of psychedelics and an entourage of all-knowing spirits. Falling Sky had once been the scourge of the Great Plains, an elemental force who transcended the line between human and animal, mortal and spirit. He had been truly free of moral or societal constraints in a manner I could never truly understand.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Falling Sky was obviously a freaking psycho and he scared me pretty badly, but I have to admit something; I was kind of jealous of him, too. Who wouldn’t want to soar like an eagle or race like a wolf in the moonlight? If you said, “Not me!” well, I’m sorry, but I call bullshit. You’re a fucking liar. Anyone would want that, anyone and everyone. The call of the wild is encoded in our genetic memory. We came from the world of wolf and deer, fish and fowl, and when our civilization has crumbled and the cities lay in ruin, we will have no choice but to return.
#
When the hydraulic door bolts had finished noisily clunking into place behind me, I turned to Kaz and said, “That was the weirdest conversation. That guy’s whacked out of his noodle in there.”
Kaz smiled a little and replied, “Peyote and jimson weed. He says it’s how he communicates with the spirits.”
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly, “about that… he told me to, uh, to tell you something.”
Kaz’s smile faded a bit, and he said, “Yes, what is it?”
I grunted, “Um, he said to tell you that the dead are still following you. They’re waiting for you on the other side.”
Kazimir’s face went stony, and he looked away from the unspoken questions in my eyes. He said, “I have always suspected as much. But what is done cannot be undone. There is nothing more I can do.”
He started marching away down the service tunnel, and I hurried to catch up. I wanted to ask Kaz what the skinwalker was talking about, but his grim expression forbade any more questions.
As we approached the next door, Kaz turned to me and flatly stated, “We do not enter this habitat unless it is an emergency. It is not safe to do so under any circumstance.”
The plate on the door was engraved with one word: SUCCUBUS.
The observation window was obscured with a heavy green shade. I gave it an inquiring look, and Kaz said, “It is a safety precaution. You are not supposed to look inside.”
I snorted, “What, you can’t even look inside the habitat? What about the guests? Do they just take Vic’s word for it? Is he just like, ‘Yeah, I got a succubus in there, but you can’t even look at her because she’s too scary?’ I mean, why is she even here?”
Kazimir frowned a little and said, “The succubus is not an exhibit. She is being contained because she once crossed Victor many years ago. I advise you not to look inside. There is a reason why it is forbidden.”
Before he could react, I pulled up the shade and looked inside. The habitat appeared to be a glaring white void, formless, featureless, and empty with the exception of a massive, four post bed. It was draped with silken curtains and covered by a red velvet canopy. Miss Dahlia was laying on the bed with her head propped up by a heap of satin pillows. She appeared to be wearing nothing but a few strips of lacy material and a knowing smirk on her lips.
The intercom was off, but as her lips moved, I could hear her voice in my mind. She said, “Come on in here, sugar. I know exactly what you need.”
I stared at her without blinking, mesmerized as she slowly rolled over onto her stomach. She looked back at me over her shoulder and cooed, “What are you waiting for, a written invitation? Come on in.”
I wasn’t aware I was punching in the door code until Kaz tore me away from the keypad and dragged me across the tunnel. I was in a daze and hardly even knew what was going on. It was like being awakened from a deep sleep by suddenly being pinned against the wall by a heavily-muscled forearm across the chest. I tried like hell to struggle free, but I’ll tell you something; that Kazimir fella was a pretty fucking strong dude. I gave up after a few seconds and gasped, “What the fuck are you doing, dickhead? Let go of me!”
“Welcome back to reality,” he said patiently. “If I did not stop you from entering the habit, you would be dying right now, this very moment. You almost died because you did not listen. If this happens again, I promise you, I will walk away and leave you to your fate.”
Kaz let go with a vague look of disgust on his face, and I straightened up my uniform with sharp, angry movements. I was mad, but only because he was right. No one wants to admit that they’re being kind of an idiot. It’s a tough pill to swallow.
Kaz pulled the shade across the window and canceled the entry code. He said, “Nefertiti is easily one of the most dangerous exhibits in this entire building. She knows all your secret longings and fantasies. Money, lust, power, she knows all your desires.”
I sighed, “From my vantage point, things were looking pretty good in there, if you know what I’m saying. What would’ve happened if you didn’t stop me?”
“Nefertiti would have devoured you,” Kaz answered bluntly. “Mind, body, and soul. There would be nothing left but your clothes.”
In a hushed tone, I said, “Oh, yeah, I see. Yeah, no, I don’t want that to happen.”
Kazimir added, “The succubus seems to have a special fondness for young men. Perhaps it is because you lack both brain power and self control.”
I gave him the side-eye and grunted, “Hm, yeah, perhaps. I just, you know… like, I looked in there and saw-”
“I don’t even want to know,” Kaz interjected. “Keep it to yourself.”
I felt my face go red, and I sputtered, “Anyway, long story short, I should always cruise right past this door and never go in. Gotcha. What’s even in there?”
“Death. That room has not been entered since the day she arrived. Never go in there unless you are attempting a rescue. If you are fortunate, you may catch her before she begins to feed. If she is already occupied, you can use the silver nitrate to drive her away. Do not look her in the eye. Stay engaged with reality. Sing to yourself, count backwards from 100, recite poetry, yell and scream. Do anything you can to keep her out of your head. It is your only hope”
I let out a sarcastic laugh and said, “You know, sometimes I start thinking maybe the twenty-seven bucks an hour isn’t worth it, and then I remember what it’s like to be broke.”
Kaz raised an eyebrow and said, “You are only getting twenty seven dollars an hour? The other assistants are all paid thirty an hour.”
I let out a harsh laugh and said, “Oh, nice. Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Kaz looked at his watch and said, “Eh, let’s go out to the gazebo and take a break. I need a cigarette.”
I rubbed my aching shoulders and mumbled, “I think I need one, too, and I don’t even smoke. Come on, big guy, let’s go.”
#
The night had rapidly become dark, cloudy, and oppressively humid. The forecast had promised a band of violent thunderstorms to come racing through at some point overnight. If the pathways hadn’t been illuminated by decorative lamp posts, I wouldn’t have been able to see my hand in front of my face.
We sat down at the gazebo beneath the willow tree, the thick of the starless gloom held at bay by a series of cheerful globe lights mounted to the ceiling. Kaz fished in his pockets and pulled out his cigarette container. I held out my hand and said, “Gimme one of those things, wouldja? I’ve never smoked a cigarette before. I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”
Kaz gave me a disappointed look and reluctantly passed one over. “It is very foolish to start at your age,” he admonished, and he handed me his lighter. “You are old enough to know better. Take it from Kazimir, you are better off without it.”
I muttered, “Not so sure I’m gonna live long enough for it to matter,” and spent a few moments puzzling over how to work Kaz’s lighter. I got it to light and dragged cautiously on cigarette, unsure of what to expect. I’d smoked a metric ton of weed since I was fifteen or so, but I’d always been leery of cigarettes. Personally, I’d never liked the smell. Beyond that, the smoking pit in highschool was a filthy patch of concrete where a bunch of mullet-head shop kids would gather to spit a lot, talk a bunch of tough-guy talk, and beat the almighty fuck out of each other over one petty grievance or another. I was a quiet, bookish kid who could neither tear apart a carburetor, nor take a hard punch and keep swinging back, so that wasn’t really my scene.
I exhaled and said, “This shit tastes like fucking garbage. Gross.”
I stubbed it out and motioned at Kaz’s odd, cylindrical lighter, which was still sitting on the table in front of him. I asked, “Is that an army lighter? You know, a whatchamacallit… a field lighter! Right?”
“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “It is. I received it in the service and have kept it in good working order ever since.”
I tried another puff on the cigarette, but nope, it was still fucking awful. I stubbed it in the ashtray beside the table and cleared my throat. Carefully, I said, “Um, that message the skinwalker told me to pass along… does that have something to do with your time in the military? You don’t have to tell me anything, I just, you know…”
The look on his face made me trail off in mid sentence. We sat there beneath the forbidding slate of the night sky in silence as Kaz chain-smoked and stared woodenly down at the table. I looked at the displays scattered around the grounds and let him stew for a while. The small-scale models of fairytale castles and peasant farmsteads stood out against the dark background, magical islands illuminated by gentle pools of muted light. The effect was cozy and charming, a perfect dose of whimsical and wholesome to cleanse the palate of the uncomfortable sights that awaited inside the building.