Friday October 17, 2014
4:42 PM Greenwich Mean Time
Translink Metro- Bus #63
Belfast, Northern Ireland
Despite being near rush hour, the Translink Metro Route 6 bus was awfully empty and quiet. Maybe ten people had gotten aboard, far below even quarter capacity. As most of the travelers were solitary, it also meant the bus was rather silent. Muttered chatter sounded here and there, crescendoing for several minutes as one middle aged woman had a brief mobile conversation with her son, but by and large the only sound was the Bus’ engine accelerating, and the brakes wooshing as what few stops could be made were made.
Still, nothing on the bus was more quiet than the two individuals sitting on a bench about halfway towards the back on the non-driver side. Pollaski and Wendy were the only two individuals to share a seat on the near-vacant metro, and it was as if a magical aura of silence had been cast over the duo.
Finally, Pollaski attempted to break the silence. “Well, that-“
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Wendy snapped, then folded her arms over her chest, turning to look out the window.
In truth, she didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or scream, or just start hitting everything. She had been afraid that her emotional scar was going to be ripped open. And it had been… she didn’t even know. It had somehow been ripped open and then turned blue with purple polka dots. It was just too weird, and she didn’t know what to make of any of it. She knew one thing- whatever it was- she absolutely hated it.
Her ears picked up the sound of her manager’s voice again, although not speaking. No, humming, under his breath. It only took several bars for Wendy to recognize the tune- War’s long renown hit “Why Can’t We Be Friends”
The melody was cut off abruptly with a splat as Wendy viciously backhanded him.
==============
Friday October 17, 2014
12:42 PM Greenwich Mean Time
St. Gregory’s Cathedral- Entrance
Belfast, Northern Ireland
“Hello?” Wendy called as she entered the large, vacant cavern that was St. Gregory’s cathedral. “Is anyone here?”
Only her echoing voice answered her. With a sidelong glance at her manager, she crept further into the dark cathedral, tiptoeing along the back wall of the sanctuary towards a side hallway where the church’s offices sat. She’d been in here before, once. Funny, that was to protest her father’s burial at St. Gregory’s, so close to the woman he had murdered. And now here she was to demand why he had been exhumed.
The corridor was every bit as dark and gloomy as the sanctuary was, the only light coming from the blood red glowing exit sign hovering overhead and behind them. “I don’t like this,” Wendy whispered, her voice quavering. “This feels like a trap.”
“It’s not a trap.” Pollaski insisted, although it felt like he was trying to convince himself more than convince her. “It’s all over, Wendy. You don’t have anything to worry about anymore.”
“Then why are the Belfact police beefing up security for me tomorrow?” Wendy hissed back.
“Just a precaution,” Pollaski muttered, nearly tripping over a box that had been carelessly left in the hallway in the darkness. “Seriously? Haven’t the Irish heard of candles?”
“Not much further now,” Wendy said. “The office should be right- here.” She opened a door, and froze, the blood in her veins immediately turning to ice. “Oh God…”
The office was ransacked, papers and books fallen off shelves and desks onto the floor, Several loose tracts were partially covering a body- the chapel’s priest, lying unconscious on the floor, a small trickle of blood drying on his forehead. With a gasp, Wendy ran to him and knelt at his side, checking for signs of life.
“Is he okay?” Pollaski asked, still in the doorway.
“He’s alive. His breathing’s normal, and his pulse is fine…” Wendy said, checking the priest over. “I think he has a concussion though. Someone knocked him out.”
“You know,” Pollaski mused. “I’m starting to think this might just be a trap, after all.”
For a second, Wendy froze. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not to her. She fought to swallow down a wave of panic, breathing heavily. She stood up, and quickly moved back towards the door. “Go! We’ve got to get out of here! NOW!”
“What about the priest?” Pollaski protested.
“We’ll get help. But whoever it is wants me, not him. MOVE!” Wendy said, as she sprinted down the hallway, Pollaski behind struggling to keep up.
There was no exit Wendy knew of down that corridor, and she wasn’t going to lead herself and her manager deeper into the dark bowels of the church. The only way out was the way they’d came in- through the sanctuary. And even before they’d reached it, they knew they’d been too late. The trap had sprung.
In the short time since they’d left, a large brazier had been lit in the middle of the sanctuary, illuminating the room in a large orange glow. Wendy slowed her run to a walk, her eyes warily darting around the sanctuary looking for the first sign of attack coming out of the darkness. She was prepared to fight her way out, if she had to. Slowly, she walked along the back of the room, towards the door. Maybe she could make a break before-
“The altar…” Pollaski whimpered.
Wendy turned to look. Her heart, which had been pounding before, began to beat in rhythm like a war drum. Up by the altar, standing on the lowest stair, was the silhouette of a gigantic man, motionless. Even with most of his features obscured by darkness, Wendy didn’t need any further hints who the gargantuan monster was.
“Yuri…” she whispered. To his left, she saw another figure, more enclosed in the darkness, smaller and lithe, also standing motionless.
“We can take them,” Pollaski said, his voice, full of bravado. Wendy couldn’t even bring herself to reply.
ON stage, Yuri, slowly raised his arms, a large boxy object between them. Wendy swallowed hard, wondering what was about to be unleashed. And then the lights above the altar came on, illuminating it. Yuri was holding an old boombox, something out of the 1980s above his head, a perfect imitation of John Cusack in Say Anything. And next to him, standing motionless on the dais was…
…her father?
Her father’s dessicated corpse stood staring back at her, his face unrecognizable save for the shock of red hair coming out of his skull. He was still dressed in the cheap business suit he had evidently been buried in, which seemed far more preserved than her father is. Wendy swallowed hard, a wave of revulsion sweeping through her.
Yuri reached up and pressed a button on the boombox, and the scratchy low quality sounds of an old tape cassette assaulted their ears before the music began to play. And as it did, Wendy watched in horror as her father began to jerk spasmodically, in rhythm to the music.
“What… the… fuck…” Pollaski muttered. Wendy’s own unspoken sentiment was not that far off.
Why can't we be friends
Why can't we be friends
Why can't we be friends
Why can't we be friends
“What is this…. I don’t even…” Wendy breathed, swallowing hard as she watched her dead father continue to dance to the music that was now playing. Then she saw them, attached to his limbs and head- wires, heading up above the altar to a ledge high up. A curtain controlled the puppeteer- save for at the bottom, where Wendy could catch a glimpse of a pair of boots and the hem of a blood red robe.
“Hunh… Jessika IS here,” Pollaski muttered next to her. “I can’t believe she actually figured out how to make a carrionette.”
I seen you around for a long long time, ya
I really remembered you when you drink my wine
Why can't we be friends
Why can't we be friends
Why can't we be friends
Why can't we be friends
“Carrionette?” Wendy asked, frowning. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at the grotesque dancing figure of her father, instead focusing her glare on Yuri, who hadn’t moved an inch the entire time, still holding that boombox over his head.
“Yeah, you know… like a marionette, but… with a corpse. Jess had been talking about doing this since she was a kid!” Pollaski gestured to the altar, where Gus was somehow managing to do the electric slide. “She’s pretty good at it. I didn’t know she studied puppetry.”
Wendy wanted to close her eyes, or look away, or just run out of the church screaming, but something held her rooted to the spot, forcing her to watch the macabre spectacle. At least they weren’t being attacked. That seemed to be reserved for the concept of good taste, which was being brutally murdered right before Wendy’s eyes. Randomly, the thought that Halloween was just two weeks away rattled around in her brain. Rubbing her forehead, she looked over at her manager, who was swaying and slightly twisting in time with the music.
“DAN!” Wendy was aghast
“What?” Pollaski said, raising his voice slightly. “It’s a good song!”
I seen you walkin' down in Chinatown
I called you but you could not look around
Why can't we be friends
Why can't we be friends
Why can't we be-
“BELFAST POLICE! EVERYBODY FREEZE!”
Wendy spun around as the doors to the cathedral smashed inward, battered down by a half dozen uniformed police officers with drawn weapons. Pollaski, the man who had spent the last year claiming to be a member of law enforcement and calling himself the sheriff dropped to the ground with an ear piercing shriek, cowering into a fetal position. Wendy, stared at the incoming officers for a second, then resignedly raised her hands in the air with a sigh. A blonde woman, her hair in a ponytail ran by, followed by her stocky partner, guns drawn as they ran towards the stage.
Where Yuri and Jessika had both disappeared, leaving Gus’ corpse behind, now crumpled lifeless on the floor with the wires no longer suspending him.
“We have confirmation. Subject is safe,” she heard a familiar voice behind her, and she turned to see Officer Declan Mahoney walking towards her. She hadn’t seen Mahoney in over two years, but she smiled gratefully at the officer. Mahoney had been undercover with Delany’s gang when she had been abducted, and had alerted the British counterterrorism unit of her abduction, driving them to rush the raid they had planned for three days later, bringing down the entire operation. Without Mahoney’s risk, she might have been killed that nights, and she remained grateful.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” Mahoney asked her, having finished his radio report.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Wendy said, smiling. “But the priest was knocked out in his office down that hall, and needs help. You’re as timely as usual, Officer Mahoney. ”
One of the officers ran off down that direction, to attend to the brained clergy. Mahoney shrugged off her gratitude, looking down. “Is HE okay?”
Pollaski was still a quivering mass of blubbering coward on the floor. “I… I think so…” Wendy said, looking down at him distastefully. “Get up Pollaski. They’re not going to shoot you.”
“I’m fine.” Whimpered Pollaski. “It’s nice and cool down here.”
Rolling her eyes, Wendy looked back up at Mahoney. “How did you know I was here?”
“Had surveillance on you,” Mahoney explained with a tacit shrug. “Something looked fishy when you went into the church, and they called it in, and we all showed up.”
“Well, thank you,” Wendy said, although something was nagging her. “You’re watching me? So does that mean there IS a threat against me?”
“Nothing concrete,” Mahoney said, although Wendy sensed a slight uneasiness in him. “Was that your brother we saw? Because he’s not supposed to be in the country.”
“Half brother,” Wendy corrected vehemently. “And he was just-“ she was promptly interrupted.
“They got away!” the officers that had ran past her were returning. “It’s like they disappeared.”
“Dammit,” barked Mahoney, suddenly annoyed. “He’s like eight feet tall! How do you lose an eight foot tall person?”
Both the woman and her partner started to protest, but they in turn were interrupted by a shout coming from the altar.
“Hey, Declan? You may wanna come take a look at this!”
Wendy turned to see another officer standing on the dais, by her father’s body. He was holding up the wires that had been used to make him move, a horrified and disgusted look on his face.
“Good LORD!” barked Mahoney, incredulous. “What the blue hell was going ON in here?”
As one, every officer turned to face her, interrogation written on each and every one of their glares. Wendy opened her mouth to respond, but no words could come out, and the most she was able to manage was a pathetic shrug.
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