Filaria - Brent Hayward [0]
a novel by brent hayward
ChiZine Publications
FIRST EDITION
Filaria © 2008 by Brent Hayward
Jacket illustration © 2008 by Erik Mohr
All Rights Reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CIP data available upon request
CHIZINE PUBLICATIONS
Toronto, Canada
www.chizinepub.com
savory@rogers.com
Edited by Brett Alexander Savory
Copy edited and proofread by Sandra Kasturi
Converted to mobi and epub by Christine http://finding-free-ebooks.blogspot.com/
For my family growing up, and for my family now.
Thanks to Bob Boyczuk and Peter Watts for their help with the manuscript. Special thanks to Brett Alexander Savory for his editing prowess. Produced with the support of the city of Toronto through the Toronto Arts Council.
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgemetns
Epigraph
1. THE ENGINEER
PHISTER, L32
DEIDRE, L2
MEREZIAH, L23-24
TRAN 50, L20
2. SOLDIERS
PHISTER, L31
DEIDRE, L1
MEREZIAH, L17-18
TRAN 50, L12
3. LOVERS
PHISTER, L19
DEIDRE, L1A (SUPERSTRUCTURE)
MEREZIAH, L8-9
TRAN 50, L14
4. THE ANCESTORS
PHISTER, L15
DEIDRE, BEYOND
MEREZIAH, l1
TRAN 50, L32
About the Author
Babar finally dropped off to sleep, but his sleep was restless and soon he dreamed: He heard a knocking on his door. Tap! Tap! Then a voice said: “It is I, Misfortune, with some of my companions, come to pay you a visit.”
— Jean de Brunhoff, Babar the King
“What,” she’ll say, “no little bones in your mouth? And you have the impertinence to love me? Get out, you wretch, and here’s a kick to help you on your way!”
— Albert Cohen, Belles du Seigneur
1. THE ENGINEER
PHISTER, L32
Shotgun, eagle-eyed, Young Phister spotted the power outlet, just ahead, mounted on the wall nearest him. Yet travelling this strange, vaulted hallway with McCreedy, he did not immediately recognize the outlet as such and said nothing as the car trundled toward it, nor as the car passed it, but when he could no longer deny what he was now looking back at, he managed to whistle low and point a long finger over his shoulder; hunched at the wheel, McCreedy could not (or would not) see the receding outlet, even with Phister gesticulating and saying in hushed tones, “There. Right there. Look! McCreedy, I swear.”
The type of hall might have been almost familiar but neither man had been down this particular stretch before, despite McCreedy’s assurances over the past few hours that now he knew where they were. Possibly, Phister thought, no man had traversed these halls since genesis. Power outlets were located near old service centres, or sometimes directly under those smooth, glassy portions of the ceiling, forever matte and dark, like trapped rectangles of night. Outside doorways, too, especially ones marked with yellow and black stripes. Always on the driver’s side. Located in odd places here? Did that have special meaning, offer clues? Any portent?
Sleeping in the car had been cold and uncomfortable. No food, and water dwindling. Dearth of canteens — full scale or standalone — had been the first sign things would be different.
They’d started out once more when daylights came on. McCreedy had told him all morning they were headed home while Phister grew increasingly sure they were getting more hopelessly lost. Though Phister had no sense of direction. He admitted that. Hallways opened where previously there had been none. Rooms vanished overnight. Walls materialized as he turned his back, shifting positions in the periphery.
Now, seeing the outlet here, on the passenger’s side, in an open stretch of this oddly vaulted hallway, in which no one might ever have set foot, thoughts of chaos and insecurities back home — and in his own mind — managed to bring little comfort.
“McCreedy, I’m telling you, stop if you want to fill this thing.”
Between stained dark lips, opening