Thirsty - M. T. Anderson [27]
“All right,” says Chet.
“Which man?” Tom asks.
That’s how we all end up in Chet’s car. Tom, Jerk, and Bongo are in the back seat. I’m in the passenger seat. I can tell Chet is mad. He starts the car, gives me a look that shows he is irritated but getting over it, and heads down the road.
We wind through the forest for a few minutes. It doesn’t help that Tom is trying to embarrass me in front of my parents’ supposed friend by lying as boldly as possible. “So my mother says to me, ‘Horatio, I don’t want you walking around at night, Horatio. Is that understood, Horatio?’”, etc. etc.
“Horatio,” says Chet, “I wonder if you could be quiet for just a quick moment while I think.”
So Tom grins at Jerk in the back seat and winks. Jerk is embarrassed. After a few minutes, Tom gets bored; so he starts to play with the electric windows.
“Window race!” he calls, and he and Jerk each try to be the first one to put his window down.
“Would you cut that out?” says Chet.
“Window race!” Tom calls again.
“Would you —?”
“Mine won’t go up anymore,” says Jerk.
“You broke it!” says Chet. “You broke my electric window!”
“Jerk!” says Tom. “You really are a problem child.”
Things are not going well. Tom and Jerk should really not have broken the electric window on the Forces of Light’s car. “I really don’t believe this,” Chet says. “You two just sit tight back there, would you?”
We drive along. I look over to see if Chet is mad.
But now Chet is smiling some secret smile.
Jerk is sitting back there, miserable.
The trees are black against the sky. We drive by what seems like mile after mile of etched branch and silent hill. We are not headed toward town. We’ve headed west.
Chet is humming one note. He doesn’t ever stop to take in a breath. He hums his one note, and it rings in my ears.
Tom and Jerk have fallen sort of quiet.
Chet looks into the rear-view mirror. He says in a deep soft voice, “How are you two doing? Are you two feeling very sleepy?” No answer.
I look back. They are asleep.
Chet is looking at his watch. “We’ll wake them up later. I shall erase their memories of me. Is the dog asleep?”
I twist my head and lean over the sticky leatherette. “It looks like it,” I say.
“That gives us something to be thankful for,” says Chet. “Now I’ll explain what you need to do.” He steers with one hand and reaches in his pocket with the other. He pulls out a blue velvet bag. “This I just traveled halfway across the universe for. It’s the Arm of Moriator. Take it.”
I take the bag from him. It’s cold to the touch. When I pull open the drawstring, I see a glint of reflected light from inside.
“Look at it,” Chet orders.
I empty the bag into my palm. The Arm of Moriator does not look like an unusual object. It is a blue glass disk about three inches in diameter. There are four spidery characters spaced evenly around the edge of it. When we go over bumps, it rings lightly with the sound of someone rubbing a wet finger around the edge of the galaxy.
“What is it?” I ask, feeling confused and a little stupid.
“It is used as a lock to keep vast evil beings like Tch’muchgar chained in other worlds. Once it is activated, no evil being can touch it or shut it off. Let me explain.” While Chet talks, I turn over the Arm of Moriator and hold it up so it catches oncoming headlights. When the light glints on it, it does nothing unusual. In the blue depths of it, I see nothing I wouldn’t expect. Chet is saying, “When the vampires interrupt your town’s spells of binding with their own spells, Tch’muchgar will try to leap from his world into yours. The Arm of Moriator will stop him. It will displace his world ever so slightly, which is like stopping an elevator between floors. He can step out, but there will be nothing there to step into. If he tries to leave his world, he’ll walk into nothing. He will fall between realities. In other words, he will cease to exist.”
I look at Chet carefully. “I thought that the Forces of Light didn’t destroy anything. I thought that was against your rules.”
“It is. This will merely act as a deterrent.