Filaria - Brent Hayward [30]
McCreedy snorted but held his retort.
“You can’t leave us,” Phister said.
“Listen. I fed you, and I tried to help you. All I received for my efforts was verbal abuse and a blow to the nose. I am unaccustomed to such treatment. I was doing you a favour. I am unaccustomed to the company of ill-bred men. Adieu. And bonne chance.”
“Go fuck yourself,” McCreedy said, peering out from under his cap with hooded eyes. “And stick your fancy words up your ass.”
“A clever comeback,” said Philip. “What else could I expect?”
Young Phister motioned with a sweep of one arm, indicating the stacks of boxes both near and far and the strange, seemingly endless areas that lay beyond and between them. “But where do we go? I mean, how big is this warehouse?”
Philip shrugged. “Nobody I’ve encountered in my extensive travels has seen all its extremities. Though logic dictates such borders must exist. There has to a north, south, east, and west to all places, no? Four boundaries, a top, and a bottom?” Clearly, Philip relished opportunities for impromptu lessons; he relished the sound of his own voice. “I can tell you one thing: there are thousands — possibly hundreds of thousands — of receptacles stored here.”
“Is there another layer of the world, Philip, like this one? Another one? Above?” Now that he’d encountered this place, and thought a little about it, the notion of a third layer, possibly even a fourth — piled one on top of the other — seemed to be a possibility. Anything did. Phister had pointed up, but warily, as if by aiming his finger at the high ceiling he might bring down some sort of wrath upon their collective heads. He felt the weight of the answer before he heard Philip’s response.
“Of course there is. More levels than you could imagine. They go up forever. Well, at least until they hit the suns. The whole thing is capped off with the blue sky. The top of the world.”
Despite anticipating this, the news was more unsettling to Phister’s already unsettled state than he had prepared himself for. Really, how could he assimilate this? Sitting there, stunned, he wondered if he ever would. Who would he be, this time tomorrow, if he were even still alive? Knowledge like this would surely change him. Change would surely kill him. Gripping the railing with one hand, and gripping the doorframe with the other, he said, “Don’t abandon us. Look, McCreedy has, well, he has problems. He won’t attack you again.”
“Like fuck I won’t,” McCreedy said. “You little freak. You fence-sitter. Listen to me.” One of those lifeless gloved hands lifted from the car’s rail but did not make it quite as far as Phister’s wrist. “This asshole won’t ever leave us, Phister. You know that?”
The first time McCreedy had used Phister’s name — ever. Just when Phister had been thinking he might not be able to get shocked any further. “What are you talking about?”
“He wants our car,” McCreedy said.
“What?” Philip sneered. “That’s absurd. Why in the world would I want a jalopy such as this?”
McCreedy set his jaw, as if it hurt to speak. “Think about it, boy. Think about how fast he climbed up onto this fucker, when he flagged us down in the corridor. Claimed he was looking for some twins and then right away he takes us here, to this place. Without a second thought. Right? What ever happened to looking for his friends? He knew we would be caught off guard here. It’s a trap. You think about it, boy. Don’t trust any hairy-headed motherfuckers. Not with teeth like that. You assholes want to tie me up and gag me, go ahead. Do what you want. But you think about what I say.”
Philip had opened his mouth in disbelief. “These absurd accusations! If you were not a sick, malnourished man, I would challenge you to a duel, right here on the spot.”
“Challenge away.” McCreedy glowered.
Young Phister