Bless the Children

[Michel Archer]

Hey, there it is. Wow, I wrote this a few years ago and now I spot some technical mistakes, but it still gets the job done. Hope you like it.Bless the Children: Appeared in AlienSkin Magazine Jan. 2007My name is Glob. Around sundown today I went above ground to get groceries, and this is how my trip went.I was a little miffed when I went to the TV/Stereo shop on the corner. I just wanted to catch a glimpse of the news, find out what’s going on in the world, y’know? So I’m watching, and the next thing you know, this dumb show comes on about these lousy little reptiles that get doused in nuclear waste then, ‘Bammo!!” They transform into heroes! Man, like, what if they were nuclear tapeworms? Would they eat the bad guys from the inside out? They should have made a show about us. At least we used to be human.My girlfriend, Bucket, says we still are. I don’t know.So anyway, I’m standing there, my hood is pulled over my head when the manager yells, “Hey, kid! If you aint’ buyin’ get out!”And I thought I wasn’t a Rhodes Scholar.Well, I already had my chain jerked a little anyway, so I spun around and stuck out my tongue. The dude screamed like a girl then started saying swear words about the costume shop down the street.“Go on!” he cried. “Get!”I said a few words about his over-sized rear and took off.I took my usual path down the alley that runs adjacent to S. Michigan Avenue, Chicago, USA.Chet’s Diner was my first stop. Sitting on the back steps were the four bags he leaves everyday. I leaned forward and smelled the soup. Mmmm, minestrone. I peaked in one bag and saw he had included a can of V-8 especially for our girl Loosey. She needs extra vegetables, but her jaw doesn’t work very well. I also noticed the bags were sturdy and had handles. Good ol’ Chet.Of course, before this had been Chet’s place it had been Sal’s, and Tawan’s and also Larry’s.. But hell, those guys couldn’t deal and became real inconvenient. Inconvenient people die. My mother taught me that.So old Chet is a good boy. We help him, though, it’s only fair. Like the time he was robbed. Friggin’ burglar stole a ton of money and equipment. Expensive stuff. Police couldn’t find him, but we did. Chet got his stuff back and I let Patch abort him. He didn’t live long. A good deal all around.Next stop was the church. Father Hillary left a small box of medicine we needed with a note attached; ’Will have extra clothes, blankets and batteries tomorrow. The ribbon is in with the medicine.’I felt excited and tore open the bag for a look. There it was, a strand of velvet, all ruby-red and soft. It was a present for Bucket. Man, I knew she’d love it. She loves tying things around her head. I also saw Father Hillary had included his usual present: a Bible. I gave asnort of laughter and chucked it to one side. That Father Hillary, sometimes he’s a hoot. Always talking about the great life you can find just reading the Bible. Maybe it hasn't dawned on him that I'm dead, so what's a dead man need with a life? But the Father is still a pretty good one. I’ll have to carve a lot of flesh before I find a replacement for him.I put the box in with the juice and headed for my last stop, Wilma’s Natural Food Mart. She was supposed to leave us organic apples, but when I got to her back door, I didn’t see anything.Disgusted, I pounded on the door. Wilma opened it and peaked out. She’s thin with gray lines in her hair, always wears blue jeans and acts like she’s doing me a big, fat, favor. She’s got it wrong.She looked at me and stuttered, “Oh, its-its….y-you.”“You-you? Who-who?” I talk like that to her. Freaks her out. “Say who I are.”“I’m not calling you that-that name.”I told her, “My name Glob. I wanna apple.”“You’re not a glob.”“Liar.”Her eyes said she was a little scared and guilty at the same time. I thought, N.G., Wilma, N.G.“Look,” she told me opening the door. “Come in. We have to talk.”“I wanna apple,” I said and waddled in after her.She lead me to her office which was a real mess, let me tell you. The paperwork on her desk looked so jumbled you’d have thought it had a life of its own. There were bills held in check by a marble paper-weight; a spiked message skewer over-flowed with messages and order sheets covered her desk like insulation. Being an orderly kind of guy, I was just plain friggin’ appalled. And this slob was supposed to help me. Tsk, tsk.She sat in her rotten old desk chair and motioned for me to sit.I told her, “Glob stand.”“Uh…all right,” she stammered. Then she smiled in that same kind of way Bucket does sometimes. Except, when Bucket does it, she’s usually congratulating a two year old for pooping in the right spot. I aint’ two years old. This chick spoke like we reached some major compromise.“All right…Glob. Stand. But we will talk. I’ve been letting this arrangement go on too long. You must see that you need help! My church has a youth Pastor who could help you to...”“I wanna apple.”Her eyes flashed, “Stop talking like that! You’re not stupid! I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you! But you do need spiritual help and physical help. The swellings are there, but you could see a doctor! You could be a normal boy!”Her words punched a button with me so big and touchy I wanted to nail her right there. But I was in a bad position. I kept cool and moved closer to the desk.“Gimme apple! Gimme now!”She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and said, “That’s it young man! You can’t be more than fourteen and if there are other children like you down there…don’t you see? They need a doctor! Jesus didn't save your lives just to have you hold them captive in the dark till they all die or don’t you care?”Inside my anger flared like an exploding volcano. Didn't care? She had NO idea! But since she was about to die, I told her the truth. I leaned forward on her desk and gave her my most intelligent smile. “Wilma, Wilma, tsk, tsk. My clan is officially dead. Or so you’d expected when a person is aborted. But a few of us made it, as you well know…”I never used this voice with her and I could see her face go slack with fright, as if she had just learned a fatal secret. She had.Wilma gasped, “You’re normal!”I grinned and yelled, “Surprise!” Then snatching up the paper-weight, I slammed it into her temple and she slumped to the floor. I felt the side of her neck and found no pulse. But it didn’t matter. I felt in my pocket for my switchblade, pulled it out and snicked it open. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, I yanked her head up and slit her throat. No hard feelings, but when I kill someone, I make sure they’re really dead.I waited at the back door to her office. I could hear the clerk out front yakking on the phone and having a grand old time. No one else was in the store. I slipped out. Near the back door I found the sack of apples and oranges she was supposed to leave for me before she came down with the bleeding heart sickness.I grabbed the sack and left.When I reached the big drain pipes that lead to the warm rooms I was feeling pretty good. There was that steady drip-drip of water from down deep and I could hear Patch singing. The sound made me smile. A few weeks ago Blade found a radio and we heard this song he’s been singing the chorus to ever since. Echoing up the tunnel I heard over and over, “Oww-ooh! Werewolves of London! Oww-ooh! Werewolves of London!” Sometimes I think I want to break that radio. If I didn’t love him, he’d drive me crazy.As I came to the open area where we’ve been trying our hand at mushroom growing, I called, “Oww-ooh, yourself! What’s up, Patch?”He looked up quickly from watering our ’crop’ and his rocky road face slapped into a grin. “Globbie! Globbie! Buddy! Bring ’em good grub? Patch hungry!”“Lot’s of grub, Pal,” I told him holding out the sacks.As I stood there telling him about things ’upstairs’ and the inconvenient topsider I disposed of, I thought of Melanie. She was the first of our kind. She told me how Dr. Clayton pulled her out from under a stack of dead ones and took her home before the Others could catch him. She said Patch was the second one he took and he was a real miracle baby. Patch was a saline abortion and a mongoloid to boot. Melanie said Dr. Clayton told her the baby made it because he wanted to live so bad. Melanie also told me the Others came and took Dr. Clayton, but she and a few others made it down here into the tunnels and we’ve been surviving ever since. What about Melanie? Well, she died. I miss her.Patched was declaring loudly, “Them Others not gonna get you! You tricky guy, Globbie!”I slapped him on the back and cried, “You said it, Dude!”Patch opened his mouth all the way and gave a big HA-HA-HA! Kind of laugh as he picked me up and gave me a big, fat, wet kiss on the cheek with that mouth of his that still looks like he’s melting. I don’t care. I’m not exactly a cover boy myself. “Patchie love his Globbie,” he said. “You my hero!”“Ha! No hero’s down here, buddy, we don’t got no nuclear waste.”He looked confused, but laughed anyway as he set me back on planet earth.I asked him, “Bucket in the warm room?”“She in warm room. Loosey in second warm room. She sewin’. Loosey good sewer. Blade made it back in his tunnel. His family all home. You family all home. Two clans, all home.”“Good. We’ll eat in just a little bit. I’m gonna see Bucket.”“Okay,” he said cheerily and went back to tending the mushrooms.Down in the first warm room I found Bucket sitting despondently in the rocking chair holding another dead one. His name had been Spider. I had to pull Spider out of her arms and stick him in one of the shoe boxes we call the out file. Patch and Blade take care of the burials everyday after supper. When I came back she was still crying so I told her to knock it off.“People die all the time.” I pointed to the one filled crib we had in the room. “Look, that kids making it. No legs, but he’s making it. Take care of him, why don’t you? And then there’s the toddlers. Come on, Bucket, there’s other kids to think about.”She looked up, her face all wet and red and says, “Doesn’t it bother you, ever?”She only eleven so sometimes she asks stupid questions. I told her, “Yeah, it does. Now stop crying.”And she did. Bucket is pretty tough and when she isn’t, I make her be.I found the box of medicine and pulled out the ribbon Father Hillary gave to me. She saw it and brightened right away. I handed it to her and made sure not to help her as she wrapped it around her head.I think Bucket might have been pretty. But she’s so thin, no matter what we feed her. And there’s the thing with her hands being all twisted around, but she never asks for help. I know when she was aborted they left her in a bucket to die and maybe that's when her hands got messed up, but I'm not sure.She sort of leaned her head to one side and kind of laid the ribbon around it and tied it that awkward way she does.“Is it nice?” she asked.“Real nice, Hey, listen, “ I said walking over to the crib.. “I got a great name for the baby.”Bucket walked over by me and we both looked down at the tiny, nameless boy. Another throw-away. We give him antibiotics, keep him warm and under the lights and we feed him. If he makes it, he makes it. He might even be mentally normal even without the legs. We heard he was a c-section like me, so there’s a chance they didn’t hurt his head.“Check him, Bucket,” I said. “The kid is black, no legs. I say we name him ’Slam Dunk.’”Bucket’s eyes became wide. “That is mean, stupid, and cruel.”I shrugged, then said with mock seriousness, “But my dear, the world is a mean, stupid, and cruel place.”Bucket stared at me, blinked, then started laughing and I knew the name would stick.As we returned to the tunnels for dinner, I heard Blade and his clan coming down. He always yells, “Loosey! I’m home!” And then Loosey sits in her wheelchair making with her big, slobbery laugh. She loves it.They brought more clothes, medicines and vitamins from their suppliers. Blade broke out some cans of fruit punch, we dished up the food and ate. So that was pretty much my day until after dinner when Blade took me aside.“Hey Glob,” he said. “Outer tunnels, okay?”The outer tunnels were where you went if you wanted to discuss something important without any ears listening in. In the tunnels, Blade, lit a candle and said, “I heard them talking again today, man. Them up worlders that talks about this dude Jesus. I’m telling you, Glob. We need to find this guy.”I backed up. Blade had no idea what I'd been through today with Wilma calling up the name of this Jesus guy and all. “Blade, Dude," I told him. "If I hear one more stupid word about Jesus today, I'm gonna be sick. Or pissed and I don't think you should make me mad. Look, just don't worry about Jesus. I mean, Jesus aint’ even real, He’s like some story they use to make little kids be good. There’s no freakin' Jesus! Okay?”“Glob! I thought so too at first! But these people, they’re talking like He’s alive right now and how they talk to Him all the time and Dude, they even say He answers them. So like the Dude must be real, right? Either that or these guys are like seriously crazy!”Blade has black hair, slits for eyes and a fairy tale attitude. But he takes such good care of his clan, I didn’t want to bring him down to hard or too fast. “Look, man. Why do we want to find Jesus? What’s He gonna do? Is He good for anything? I mean, I go to Father Hillary’s all the time and it's Bible this, Jesus that. But he's still got all those homeless and poor people hanging around talking about Jesus. And I've heard the rich guys that come around the church with their talk, too. THEY don't talk about Jesus. They talk the same hoo-hoo you hear in the strip joints, so what's the big deal?”“Man, I don’t know. But I’ve been listening and you know, this guy, He walks on water, He makes food appear out of nowhere, He makes sick people better and dude! He even raises the dead! Glob, you gotta look at us. We need some help, man! We got nothing’ but kids dyin’ and its no good, man.. This Jesus guy, I heard He even fixed people who had this disease where their arms and legs were falling off. Man, like he didn’t care. He was in there huggin’ ’em an’ stuff. And they say He even makes people…okay don’t freak when you hear dis….but I heard He even makes people…born again! Now aint’ that some freaky stuff there, man? Don’t be mad or nothing’, just think about it, okay? We find this guy and maybe things work out, huh?”I didn’t know what to think, so I just muttered, “Yeah, no problem,” and headed back for the tunnel.That was all earlier. I’m in the warm room right now and everybody else is sleeping. It’s my turn to have the watch over Slam Dunk and I have to feed him in about twenty minutes. He gets an ounce of formula, one eye dropper at a time.Now that its quiet, I’ve been thinking about today like Father Hillary's Bible, how Wilma wanted to ‘take care of us.’ And now even my boy Blade with his Jesus talk. I think about it and wonder if maybe they're right, maybe we do need to get out of here and get help. But man, it’s the upper world there. What are they going to do to freaks like us? They’re the crazy ones, they’re the reason we’re down here at all. We’re like all those alligators people used to flush down the toilet; maybe we'll grow into big monsters and rise up and kill them all.Except...I look at my hands and feel my face. I don’t know what all those bumps mean, maybe they mean I’m dying. I don’t know. I feel okay.But say we even find this Jesus, what’s He going to do? Wave a magic wand and make us all normal? It just sounds like an upper world thing…and I hate the upper world.Still I got to admit, it would be cool to look like a normal guy and get out of the dark. I know my Bucket would like it. But then what’s this born again stuff? I wonder how Jesus would set us up for that?Born again? Hell, I wasn’t even born the first time.How about I leave it at this: if you’re out there, Jesus, let me know.I gotta go feed Slam Dunk.