Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 5
As the owl rose over Sherry into the rafters, the winged creature dropped the Staff down to her and circled back around to Drakthos, where the bird then dropped a white smear from its tail feathers onto the carpeted figure at the altar.
“Get that fowl!” Drakthos screamed at his minions as the last vestige of the shimmering portal to another world vanished. The mob of demons then turned their attention to the predatory bird as it roosted nonchalantly in the rafters of the cathedral.
With all of the attention of the crowd focused elsewhere, Sherry’s flesh began to succumb to the possession of the witch, and with the Staff finally at the witch’s will, Sherry felt a twinge of fear as an evil mildew crept into the fibers of the glowing Staff. If there were no intervention, the Staff would soon belong to Drakthos, and then all would certainly be lost. A tingling crept over her shoulders as she felt a gentle hand placed upon her back, and then a familiar covering enveloped her as she felt the witch’s spirit shudder in anger. The Quilt of Blessings was draped over her haunted body, and Pound’s voice sounded in her ear.
“Remember who you are, Sherry,” came the voice of strength, and she felt the witch tremble beneath the Quilt. “Send these creatures back where they belong.”
The mold that covered the Staff peeled back like a bad stamp, and the light of her will struck out in all directions. The witch screamed in frustration once again, but this time she was trapped in a tomb of her own making.
“I’m calling you out on the carpet,” said Sherry as she leaped to her feet, striking Drakthos with the Staff and knocking him to the floor of the sanctuary. Wielding the Staff, she commanded the portal to the dark dimension to open once again, and she swirled the Quilt of Blessings across the possessed fibers of the carpet, ensnaring the demon Drakthos in its folds. Whipping the Quilt and the demon lord around her shoulders like a knapsack, she barreled through the portal with the horde of demons following her close behind to save their lord.
**********
Crush and Bat stood back to back as the encroaching demon throng surrounded them in the courtyard of the castle prison.
“This doesn’t look good, Bat,” said Crush.
“You’re telling me!” Bat replied with his fists raised in a defensive position.
“I’m not going down without a fight,” Crush cried. Without hesitation, Crush lunged forward with fists flailing, and three of the demons were on him before Bat could blink an eye. With a handy right hook, Crush belted one demon off his feet while the other two waited in anticipation of their chance at the hero. Fortunately for Crush, their chance never came.
“You’re not going down at all,” came a familiar voice from behind the crowd. The demons reluctantly parted as Possum walked through the crowd leading a faint Justin by the hand. Amazed at the sudden change of events, they kept their guard up as things started to unfold. One by one the demons each knelt down on one knee as the imp joined Crush and Bat in the courtyard.
“Guys, I think I’m okay,” admitted Justin as he leaned over onto Crush’s shoulder. “I woke up, and the little guy there said he would take me to you, but I didn’t believe him ‘til I saw you out here. Looks like Hell here.”
“Why are these demons kneeling?” Bat whispered in Possum’s ear.
“Before Drakthos came from your world, I was king,” he answered simply. It had never dawned on any of the humans that this little guy could have possibly been more than a servant in this godforsaken land. Now the demons bowed before him as they would have if Drakthos had been present.
Unexpectedly at that moment, the portal appeared in the courtyard, and Sherry Lance bowled through between Crush and Possum as she held a reluctant Drakthos, kicking and jerking inside the fabric.
“Sherry?!” What the heck?!” shouted Crush as he caught sight of the transparent aura that now surrounded her body. Crush had seen many demon possessions in his day, and it caught him off guard to witness the affliction in one of his close friends.
“Never mind me! It’s Drakthos that’s the issue!” she insisted, shaking off the garish effects of the witch. Instinctively Crush snatched the fabric from her shoulder and bear hugged the sizzling demon as he engulfed the Quilt in flames. Nearly singeing his arms, Crush dropped to the ground and rolled with the demon that was writhing in anger to break free. The dark legion of followers that encompassed them suddenly switched allegiance once again with the return of their leader, and they quickly restrained Bat and Justin as Crush fought to subdue their lord. Fearful of the bearer of the Staff, the horde steered clear of Sherry as she succumbed to the influence of the witch twin. With the last ounce of strength in her body, Sherry slammed the end of the Staff to the ground, and a nova of infinitely intense sunlight flared outward, filling every crevice in the courtyard and blinding all those in the vicinity.
Blinded, but still alert, Crush felt Drakthos’ body fall limp for an instant, and not wanting to miss the opportunity, he compressed the Quilt around every inch of the demon in hopes of weakening him even further. Tendrils of black ooze filtered up through the ground and into the contents of the fabric, and Crush felt the Quilt and carpet collapse in his arms, as if it were empty of its contents.
When his vision finally came back to him, he was astounded to see that Sherry was the only being standing, and she was trembling convulsively as a black tentacle rose up from the ground and spun around her body. As it constricted, the feeler squeezed the life from her frail body. She screamed once and struck the ground again with the end of the Staff, sending light upward to the heavens. The dusk in the air was broken as the first rays of sunshine in a dark age reached the surface of the ground. The portal to earth opened once again, and without hesitation, Crush pushed Bat and Justin through as the host of paralyzed demons began to smolder in transformation upon the ground.
Turning back, Crush thought he should make one final effort to free Sherry from the clutches of the Angel of Death. When he swiped his hand through the flowing mass of black death, he came out empty handed, as if a final decision had already been made without his consultation. Sherry Lance and the Staff of Helios had both been consumed by death, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to bring her back.
The portal to earth was closing fast, and Crush cursed under his breath as he quickly snatched the Quilt and carpet and crossed the shrinking plane to his own dimension, leaving the fate of Sherry Lance and Possum behind. Stepping through to the other side, the portal to the dark dimension closed for the last time, and Crush wondered if all the effort they had put forth and all the sacrifice that had been made by his friends was worth it in the end. Looking at the destruction engulfing the sanctuary, Crush then gazed down at his own body. When he saw the burns and scrapes covering his torso and arms, the pain that adrenaline had held at bay came rushing to his consciousness, and he collapsed to the floor in shock.
**********
The sound of the heart monitor beeped with every pulse, and when Crush counted the first ten beeps, he felt the warm gentle hand press down on his forearm. A familiar voice offered a greeting.
“Coffee, sugar?” the voice said, as the hand moved up to his cheek. Goosebumps rolled down his spine, and Crush found it difficult to ignore the company. When he finally opened his eyes, there stood Claire with a smile from ear to ear. Crush had no idea how long he had been out, but he could not imagine waking from a coma to a prettier face.
“If you’re offering, I’ll take a cup. But none of that mop water from the cafeteria,” Crush replied as he tried to pull himself up in the bed.
“Easy there, fella,” said Dr. Tatum who had been sitting in the corner. “You were banged up pretty good, and you’ve been out several days so don’t be in such a rush to recover. You’ve got all the time in the world.” Crush eased up and relaxed his head back onto the pillow.
“All the time in the world,” he thought, and then he remembered Sherry. She had never had a chance once she had started t
he case in Blowing Rock. As the regrets bowled through his head, the monitor beeped faster and faster.
“Crush. It’s all right. The storm has passed,” Claire said with a smile. Crush knew that nothing would ever be the same after what happened, but he knew the pain would ease over time. It always had.
“So what happens now? Prison?” he asked, guessing how things had turned out after he passed out.
“We go back to Baltimore, open the office back up, take a few cases,” replied Dr. Tatum. “What we’ve always done.” Crush turned toward the window and gazed out at the clear sky.
“Last I recall, we were fugitives,” he said bitterly to no one in particular.
“And we would still be on the run if Carol and Richard Fromage were in charge,” came a welcomed voice from behind Claire. “But I found this on the floor of the sanctuary after the battle,” Seth continued while holding up a voice and video recorder. “Sherry set this out in the sanctuary before she went through the portal.”
“Amazing what a video will do for a reputation,” said Dr. Tatum as she clicked the touchscreen and replayed an important confession for Crush.
“. . . I would be queen, my lord,” played through and Crush’s suspicions were now realized. When the video finished playing, Crush grunted a curse under his breath.
“You’ll never get those two to admit to anything,” he said with a doubtful frown.
“Maybe not. But I’ll take the wins I can get. After a closed room congressional review, the D.A.M. was reinstated, and all charges were dropped against us,” explained Dr. Tatum.
“It does nothing for Sherry,” replied Crush with sincerity. “She gave her life for us.” The room was silent for a moment, and Dr. Tatum placed her hand on Crush’s in reassurance.
“She won’t be forgotten,” Dr. Tatum replied as a new tear rolled down her cheek. Then she wiped the tear away and pointed to Claire as she spoke to Crush.
“And what of Bat Jackson and my friend Justin?” he inquired as if to change the focus from Sherry’s fate.
“Bat was never found, and the local authorities refused to let the matter go despite our efforts,” Dr. Tatum explained. “You’re probably not aware, but he assaulted several law enforcement officers recently when he was captured in Durham, and they are not letting the charges drop under any circumstances. That makes him a fugitive, even though we know better.”
“Yeah, looks like the bad guys won then,” Crush grumbled. “And Justin?”
“He was treated for a heart condition and released yesterday. In fact, he stopped by to see you before he left the hospital, but you were still under. You’ll have to fill us in on him some time,” said Dr. Tatum with a smile. “I’m very interested in hearing about what happened on the ‘other side’.” Getting no response from Crush, she figured that her daily visit was over.
“We’re going to clear out now. It looks like you’re in very good hands,” Dr. Tatum said with a wink to Claire. Seth walked out of the room first, and as Dr. Tatum stepped through the doorway, Crush called out to her.
“Doc. Where’s Pound?” he asked when he recognized that his good friend was not there.
“He’s tying up some loose ends,” Dr. Tatum answered in her own mysterious way.
**********
As he drove the nails into the wall of the sunlit foyer, Pound stood back to judge whether the plate was level.
“In memory of Sherry Lance,” the words read across the plaque, and Pound wished deep inside that he had made the effort to know her a little better. Maybe if he had, he thought, their paths would have led them somewhere else, somewhere safe.
“Safe, that’s a funny word,” he thought. “We think of ‘safe’ as being secure from harm, pressure, the weather, the elements, all of the things that gradually wear on us and make us who we are. We put our precious items in a ‘safe’ so that we don’t lose them, but we’re actually placing them in a dark prison where nothing interesting ever happens to them.”
He exhaled a sigh of exasperation as he stared thoughtfully at the plaque, and he realized that someone special had lived a full life and given that life to make others “safe.”
“Pound,” a familiar voice called from the sanctuary. It was the minister, Dr. Henning. “She will be remembered,” he consoled in his normal pastoral tone. Seeing that Pound was stoic, and not wanting to linger on the topic for too long, the pastor changed the subject.
“And I can’t thank you enough for returning the trees back to Salem. The streets just did not look quite the same without them standing guard.”
“It’s what I do. Not all of them could be saved, but I did what I could,” remarked Pound as he walked over to him nodding and then pointed out the white streaks in the carpet between the pews. “That bird made a mess of the carpet,” Pound joked as he motioned to the large white spots and recalled the owl attacking Drakthos. “Aren’t you going to replace it?”
“I’ve cleaned it thoroughly, but the stains remain. We will keep the carpet as a reminder,” said the pastor with a nod. Pound gave him a look that questioned his judgment, and the pastor explained more clearly as he pointed to the beauty of the multiple colors of sunlight that now passed through the stained glass windows of the church. “Stains can be beautiful in the right light.” Pound nodded in agreement.
“Hard to argue with that,” Pound admitted as he stepped out onto the front porch of the church. It was a beautiful day, clear weather, and no clouds in sight. “The city will have to make repairs for years to come, though,” he commented
“We will recover,” said the pastor as he walked out onto the courtyard. “I have to get used to the view from up here. I have a fear of heights, you know.”
“’First Church of the Sky’ would make a nice name for the church, don’t you think?” asked Pound as he leaned onto the outer rails of the rooftop overlooking the city below. Looking at the clear blue horizon, he was thankful that the adventure had finally come to a close, but he wished that he could have shared the moment with Sherry.
**********
The bright sunlight of midday fell across the new grass of the courtyard in a blanket of warmth, and the birds that had once flown across the sky had returned to sing songs of joy. A young child ran in circles, playing until vertigo lifted her from her feet and placed her on the ground. The king breathed in the fresh air, the first he could remember in ages, as he watched the spring day unfold. Leaning on the crooked wooden staff, he stood up and strolled over to the edge of the castle wall where he could tilt forward onto the stone work overlooking the courtyard.
“Your majesty,” a voice called out from a doorway behind that led out onto the stone porch. With renewed vigor the diminutive monarch walked over to the door into his personal quarters to meet with the council. Waiting patiently for him inside his private office, a group of older gentlemen gathered around a rectangular table, and after the king sat down at the head of the table, the others took their seats.
“Your majesty,” spoke Chrisalis, the king’s advisor. “The search for survivors from earth is complete, and none were found.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” answered the king with a grimace of regret. “They were my friends, and my prayers go with them.” The men at the table looked one to another in shame, yet they made no eye contact with the king. “We owe them our freedom,” he continued as he laid the staff down flat onto the table. The men all looked away as if the staff were a symbol of something they would rather forget.
“Your majesty, the pool of dark water that lies in the dungeon has been filled with rock as you requested,” said Chrisalis in an effort to change the subject.
“Excellent,” the king replied as he removed the staff from the table. “Though, I doubt that we have seen the last of the beast within. Gentlemen, carry on with your duties. We have a world to rebuild,” he commanded, and the men arose and filed out of his office one by one. At last the king was alone,
remembering the days that he was once called Possum.
**********
The overbearing smell came as quickly as the wind. One moment there was fresh air, and the next moment the scent of garbage overpowered the nostrils.
“Breath,” the voice spoke, and a long wet tongue licked the sleeping face. “You have done well, but you must recover, little one.” The young lady opened her eyes to find the oversized furry face looking back at her. “Good. There is strength in you.”
Despite being alone with the oversized marauder, she was not afraid. She knew within herself that he would not hurt her.
“Am I myself?” she asked. He sniffed her midsection and then her feet.
“Yes, you are yourself, and something more,” he growled in a low tone.
“Where are we?” she asked before he could say any more.
“Inquisitive, aren’t you little one? We are where the living fear to tread, and the dying make their bed,” he answered in a riddle.
“I don’t understand,” she continued.
“When you reach the top of the hill,” said the bear as he directed her with the tip of his nose, “you will find the way home, Sherry. If you so choose.” When she raised her head, she found herself in a forest of great oak trees with a leafy trail leading to the top of a hill. In the distance she could hear the sound of cars passing by, and she wondered why there were cars in heaven.
A familiar face appeared at the top of the hill, and when she comprehended who it was, she stood to her feet and waved to him. Bat Jackson came walking down the leafy trail to meet her with an enormous owl following in the treetops close behind.
“Life just keeps getting more interesting,” Sherry thought to herself as she brushed the dust from her clothes. When she considered the bear’s words, she looked around to find him, and he was gone.