II
“Well then…” Flagg settled back into his seat of filth and decay and grinned, absently wiping maggots and beetles from his jaw like a man stroking a beard thoughtfully. “I suppose we should move on to the accusers. The first shall be first this time, I think.” He rolled his eyes toward the assembled onlookers in a manner that was familiar to Gordon; sick leapt into his throat when he realized that Flagg would be blinking slowly…if he still had eyelids.
A boy of twelve or thirteen jumped to his feet and hurried toward the bench. Gordon barely remembered the homemade knife sliding out of his sleeve and into the warm, soft belly of the boy… oh, wait. Yes, he did. And he remembered shoving the next speaker out of a speeding car; the thumpcrack as skull met pavement had followed his ear even as he raced away. And that next one… old lady Harmon… he could still hear her shriek when he grabbed her purse. She really shouldn’t count, though; he’d not meant for her to overbalance on the stairs and fall.
Well, at least he hadn’t meant for her to
die, for hell’s sake.
One after another, his victims came forward and made their accusations, painting a picture of vicious depravity that Gordon found it hard to deny. Funny, but he’d always seen his life as simply another way to conduct the job that had to be done. Some used words and courts and handshakes; he used fist and knife and threat. Business got done one way or another; he just considered his way more efficient.
Gordon jumped when there was a commotion at the back of the room. He was horrified and amused at how close to sleep he’d been. One part of his mind insisted he was just overwhelmed with horror; another insisted it was disinterest that pulled his eyelids down.
“Gordon Heil!” His name was a shriek of primal rage that cut through the room. A policeman that Gordon vaguely recalled from his encounter with Jesus stalked down the center aisle of Flagg’s courtroom. He seemed concerned neither by the gobbets of flesh that dropped from his pants leg nor the chunks of hair that slid down the neck of his uniform blouse. He pointed a shaking finger at Gordon. “I accuse you of murder!”
After a moment’s silence, the courtroom was filled with hysterical laughter. Flagg let the mirth continue for several seconds before raising a hand. By fits and starts, the room fell quiet.
“That
is the intention here.” He pointed at Willa. “We spoke of this matter, I believe? About your possession of the living? Your time to speak will come in its proper order, and not a minute sooner.”
“Me?” Willa squeaked. “You think I’m…? No. No, your Honor.” She tightened her arm around the baby-sized bundle of leaves and bones and tilted her head up in a mockery of prim denial. Gordon almost laughed: if Willa had lips, he was sure they’d be pursed. “I have never seen this man before in my…time.”
Flagg chuckled, the sound round and rotted, and full of bile and time. “
’Curiouser and curiouser’, as Alice said.” He motioned the bailiff forward, and the child jumped to his feet. “I think we can move the proceedings forward.” He held up a diminished hand to still the chorus of protest. “We can all agree that Mr. Heil is a very bad man, I think. Bailiff, take the names of those who feel strongly about testifying—it is their right. But in the meantime, who approaches the court?”
The intruder drew himself up to his maximum height. “Officer Roy Gant, human witness, your--”
Flagg’s laughter was as chilling as it was joyful. “Oh, this
is a fun session!” His laughter faded into a cold grin and he folded skeletal fingers under his chin. “I think not,
Officer. As a man I admire greatly once said…
masks off.”
The meat that had made up Roy Gant for the last twenty-five years dropped abruptly to the ground, leaving an entity of spectral rage shimmering before Flagg.
“Miss Ruby Willis, I presume?” He shook his head at Willa with a roguish smile. “You set a bad example, Mrs. Heil.”
Ruby wailed and lunged at Gordon. He skittered backward, recoiling from her touch. “I was getting my life together, you bastard! I wasn’t going to deal with scum like you anymore! I didn’t deserve this!” With an abrupt change of direction, her hand closed around Willa’s throat and dug into the decaying meat. “
This is your fault, you bitch!” Willa’s leafchild hit the floor and blew away in the wind. A wild screech burst from her ruined throat and she clawed at her attacker’s ghostly face.
While the bailiff and other members of the court rushed forward to separate the battling ghouls, Gordon slipped from his bench and slithered toward the massive black doors that he’d thought would seal his doom. He looked back, hand on the cold metal handle, and contemplated the chaos behind him. The utter impossibility of all he’d experienced that day hit him; once he was out that door, he planned to look for forgetfulness at the bottom of the first bottle of Jack he found. Hell, it might take a few bottles. No way this horror could be real, though.
“Gordon Heil, you’re under arrest for the murders of Ruby Willis and Willa Heil.”
He felt the cold slap of metal against his wrist as it was jerked behind him. His shoulder was wrenched and the other wrist pinched painfully in a matching cuff. He looked behind him into the eyes of Sheriff Townsend, who had slipped into the room from the door Gordon wasn’t holding.
Gordon began to laugh. “You’ve got to be ****ing kidding me.”
“Order in the court!” Flagg’s roar was met with immediate silence.
Townsend lurched backward, dragging Gordon halfway through the door. His eyes widened as he took in the assemblage, but his voice never faltered. “I’m taking Mr. Heil into custody according to the laws of the state of Indiana. Y’all stay where you are.”
Slimy tears spurted from Flagg’s eyes as his laughter rolled toward the roof of the chamber. “This has to be the best trial I’ve ever presided over.” He pointed at the door and Townsend’s feet slid inexorably toward the bench. He dragged Gordon with him and the door slammed behind them.
“With all due respect to your great state, it will have to wait its turn. Mr. Heil is already on trial here.” Flagg leaned back in his chair and appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Heil. I’ll give you a choice.”
The cuffs dropped from Gordon’s wrists and invisible hands pulled him toward his original seat. Willa snuggled up to his side and curled her taloned hands around his arm, leafbaby apparently forgotten.
Flagg stood behind his bench. His size was overwhelming, his voice resonant. A glow emerged behind his face. “Gordon Heil, you stand accused of murder most heinous. Your victims have spoken. You’ve heard their agony, witnessed their pain.” He gestured toward Townsend, who stood trembling in his original position. “Our required human witness has spoken his piece. You are doomed… but not yet damned.” He gestured and the outraged screams of the witnesses cut off as they were universally stricken mute.
“Gordon Heil, you now have a choice. You can admit the wrong you have done and swear atonement, and I will release you to human punishment.” He nodded at Sherriff Townsend and smiled. “The dead have all the time in the world. Are you sorry for your sins, Mr. Heil?”
Gordon looked from Townsend to Flagg, from Willa with her poor broken head, courtesy of his gun, to the filleted face of his last, dockside victim. He searched in his heart for mercy; he looked for love in his soul.
He grinned.
“I don’t regret a goddamned thing,” he said. Heil pulled the Glock from his waistband and blew what was left of Willa’s head clean from her shoulders. Next was the bailiff; the small boy left his feet in a fine mist of blood and tissue. Gordon pumped shot after shot into his victims, laughing and shouting their names after each disintegrated.
He didn’t stop, even when the doors were flung open and a great rushing wind brought a cowl of darkness to engulf him and pull him downward, followed by the rest of the rotted court…
