The Weeping Thing Ch. 04

"Keep it together, Matt." The scared man encouraged himself, as he stretched out over Margo's covers.

Matt thought he'd have some trouble relaxing enough to get back into Pan's universe...

And then he closed his eyes.

The ground lurched below Matt's feet, slamming him down on his side.

From his new viewpoint in the dirt and grass, he saw a bleak landscape drenched in black and several shades of gray. The trees were black and gnarled, their branches twisted and spiked and clenching clusters of leaves in a rain-soaked gray. The sky was a much lighter shade of gray, but it was spotted and teeming with angry black clouds. There was one other color visible: red, blood red. The trees and the ground were bleeding it. Even the sky had great, jagged tears that dripped down heavy red drops like a hellish rain of doom.

Matt struggled to his feet, even as the ground began to shiver beneath him. He saw Donald, a parody of his normal self in black and white, running back and forth among the trees as if he sought refuge among them.

Donald's eyes and mouth were gaping, his fingers were clenching and unclenching like little claws. Over and over he kept saying, "Cabot's gone loose! Cabot's gone loose!"

The man had gone insane, Matt decided. He wondered how much of that insanity had to do with what has happening inside Pan. Next, he wondered how Emelina and the other women were faring.

A rough tremor jolted him to spin around. Matt turned toward the direction of town and saw a giant's black claws rake across the sky, gashing it and ripping it open. A new cascade of blood-rain began to drip from the sky. Along with the gray clouds red blood, the heavens were also dotted with the black shapes of hundreds and hundreds of frantic crows.

"Cabot's gone loose!" Donald screamed, sounding far behind Matt now.

Pan had once destroyed Cabot from the inside out, Matt recalled. In this ironic twist of fate, Cabot sought to return the favor.

Matt started running toward Pan's version of the town of Burch. Before long, he saw a huge black shape towering above the trees and standing at least fifty feet above the ground. This monster had a man's broad back, and a man's head covered in what Matt could only recognize as an ancient pilgrim's hat. Instantly Matt knew who this was.

The demon that had once been Solomon Cabot lashed out his arm again, tearing not into the sky but into the ground. Even from that distance, Matt could see trees and ramshackle buildings torn from their spots and hurled into the air like broken twigs.

As if he were a cat in search of a mouse, Cabot's head swiveled to and fro. When the monster made a half-turn, Matt was finally able to see his face. Hair that was gray, white and black wisped out from under Cabot's hat, and around his ears and collar. His eyes were angry and set close together as if in a permanent scowl. His nose was bulbous and reddish, his jowls fleshy and loose. The demon's tiny teeth ground together as if he were already chewing on some distasteful morsel. Worst of all, thick, purplish blood was slowly seeping from the man's eyes, nose, ears and mouth.

"Where are you, wretch?" The fifty-foot man sneered. "I'll have you drawn and quartered before this day is through!"

What chance did they have against a threat such as this one? Matt wondered this, as he slowed his pace and began a more wary approach through the trees. Cabot could step on any one of them as if they were nothing more than roaches. Maybe, Matt gulped, he had already stepped on some of the others.

Before his eyes, Cabot's incredibly long arm swept across the ground again, tearing through clapboard houses as if they were matchsticks and sending all manner of debris into the air. Cabot nearly dropped to his knees in a sudden lunge. When the demon straightened up again, he held in one hand a limp and lifeless trophy.

"Emelina!" Matt cried out, causing even the distant Cabot to turn and stare in his direction.

Suddenly, Matt realized that the spirit of Pan had entered his body. When he cried out, Pan's voice had cried out with him. Matt hadn't only yelled, he had roared.

Cabot pointed directly at him and bellowed, "Kill that one!"

As if single-minded in purpose, the hundreds of crows circling the sky started changing their directions and coming toward him.

For a moment, Matt was reminded of the adventures of Jack and the beanstalk. He'd already turned to run when he heard Pan's voice ringing out within his own head.

"Run no more, mortal!"

The voice was strong and firm, like that of a conqueror. It was not at all like the impression of the disguised old man he'd gotten from Emelina.

Matt started to dart away, like when he was at work and he propelled himself to run and retrieve a customer's car.

"I have yearned to find a champion to stand against this devil!" Pan's hard voice halted him. "You will be that champion!"

Matt had only taken two weak strides, when he became racked with indecision. He was afraid of being hurt, afraid of dying, and who wasn't? He was afraid of being eaten by Pan, too. He'd always been afraid, he realized. All of his life, he'd been running away from his fears.

"Turn and stand strong." Pan commanded him.

Matt's head felt as if it were about to burst. He was hyperventilating from terror. His heart felt as if it were trying to burst out of his ribcage. His body felt drenched with cold sweat.

"Stand strong!" Pan ordered.

The Greek god injected visions into his head: of Emelina being beaten, raped and ravaged by Solomon Cabot. These were real memories the god had collected from her. Pan filled Matt's ears with the sound of the girl's sobbing, as she tried desperately to think of a way to get her friends out of their captivity in the church, and to prevent them all from being executed.

Matt was also reminded of the feel of Emelina's flesh, as he made love to her in the back of his truck, and of the sweet smell of her body as she lay beside him afterwards.

"Damn it, Pan!" Matt cried out.

He could hear the sound of Emelina's laughter. To his sensibilities, it was the laughter an angel might make.

"Pan!" Matt shouted, knowing full well he was being manipulated and extorted.

Matt saw one final vision, of a very young Emelina happily singing and dancing in the woods, before the man named Solomon Cabot had come along and ruined everything. Above all else, this was what Pan wanted. Matt suddenly realized that this was exactly what he wanted as well.

He turned around, but it was much too late. The crows began battering into him as the blows from a mob of angry men. They shoved him back, dizzying him with their dark fury. They began slicing their claws into him, tearing apart his clothes, ripping pieces of him away with their sharp beaks. Barely, he could hear Cabot's laughter from far behind him, and the sound of the giant's footfalls as Cabot began to tread in Matt's direction.

Matt was about to die; yet he no longer felt fear. He was at peace with himself and at peace with his place in the physical world. He was discovering that where he had been all of his life was not the place where he truly belonged.

No, it was more than peace, Matt realized. He was full of joy. Everything he had been was about to be swept away, leaving him as a blank slate. Everything was going to be, well, everything was going to be wonderful!

"Now is the time, mortal." Pan told him.

"Now is the time." Matt repeated, as sure of himself as he'd ever been in his life.

He felt himself still being pushed back by the evil torrent of crows, as they continued to hammer away at him and to tear his body into shreds. His eyelids were constantly wincing as some of the more vicious birds streaked into his face.

Matt managed to pull together a smile as he said, "I give my soul to Pan."

"Will you ever wake up, Mathew?" Emelina's pretty voice blessed Matt's ears.

Matt had been having an amazing dream. It was a vision of him lying on a great, big, blue beach towel, while under the welcome shade of a parasol ringed in white and blue. He was on a vast stretch of pristine, beautiful beach. In the dream, Emelina had been lying next to him. She was clad in a blue two-piece bikini that made her body look nearly as incredible as it had when she was fully nude. In the dream, Emelina had draped one soft leg over his thigh.

Matt's eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was Emelina's sweet, smiling face. Sure enough, she was wearing a blue, two-piece bikini. Matt sat up and looked around. The towel, the parasol and the beach were all there, too. He even reached out grab a handful of grainy sand. He felt its rough texture in his grip, before his mind recalled the moment of his death.

Anxiously, he turned back toward Emelina. "What happened to Cabot?"

"He is gone now."

"What about all the crows?"

"They are gone now as well."

"Well, where's the goddamned forest?"

Emelina raised her eyebrows, as if her answer would still be the same.

Matt sniffed at the air, quickly becoming aware of the smell of hamburgers cooking over an outdoor grill. He turned to one side to look. Sure enough, there was lanky Donald, wearing a chef's apron over a pair of red shorts and no shirt. Dutifully, the lean man presided over a small portable grill. Donald was under the shade of his own parasol, only about ten feet beside them.

"Dude." Was all Matt could manage to say.

"Welcome back, Mattie-boy." Donald waved a rough-looking iron spatula at him. "And exactly how would you like your burger, my good sir?"

"Uh, medium rare." Matt replied, glancing between Donald and Emelina. "Is this place for real?"

"Thanks to you it is." Donald smiled back. "It's our own little slice of heaven. Since Pan was no longer restricted by the coven's black magic, he was able to go all the way this time. Get this! If we can imagine something, and visualize how it works in a simple way, we can get Pan to visualize it, too. He can make it into something substantial. My boy, in this place our dreams really do become reality."

Matt could only sit there dumbfounded. "Where's everybody else?"

Emelina prodded his shoulder. Matt turned to see her pointing down the beach a ways. Off in the distance, he saw the group of familiar faces clustered around the sand on either side of a large volleyball net.

Donald spoke up. "The rest of our modern transplants have been trying to get a real game going for about an hour now. I'm afraid it hasn't been going well. Apparently, no one ever taught our Nineteenth Century faction how to serve or spike a ball. Why don't you head on over there? I'll give you guys a call when the grub is ready."

Still in a state of shock, Matt got to his feet.

"Okay, I think I can do that." He said. "Unless somebody pinches me and I wake up from all this."

It was all too perfect, Matt thought. If there was one thing he'd learned in life, it was that if something looked too good to be true, it always was.

Donald might have been reading his mind, for he mentioned, "Remember what I told you about the parameters here. They'll all changed, Mattie. You make the rules around here."

"Right." Matt replied, still not believing it.

Emelina got up beside him. "Before we go, I must tell you one thing. Remember has been worried sick over you, ever since you sacrificed yourself for the lot of us. If you were to ask me at this very moment about what she thinks of you, I would say that she was good and ready to get fucked!"

At this, Emelina began to giggle in her usual cute and uncontrollable way.

Matt chuckled, before he glanced over at Donald.

The lean man shrugged back. "You know how she is with that word. Don't you dare teach her any new ones! Oh, and we've got a primitive motel over that way." He pointed past a row of vibrant palm trees and flowery bushes. "No plumbing or electricity, because none of us is savvy enough to think up a schematic that Pan can understand. Still, our hotel does have some creature comforts in it." He leaned to one side and brought up a clear beer bottle with a dark yellow fluid in it. "And we've got this, too. The bottle was my idea, but as for the drink, well, that was Pan's doing. It doesn't even have to be refrigerated, either, because it's made to be taken as it is. It has fermented grapes in it, and it's flavored with spices and nuts, and..."

"Where's Pan?" Matt cut in.

"Oh, he's real now, like we are. He's out and about." Donald replied. "Pan was supposed to have some big surprise for us later. Word on the street is that he's rebuilding Mount Olympus in our honor. Wouldn't that be something to see?"

"Look there!" Emelina caught their attention.

Both men turned toward the volleyball game. Apparently, the game had been forgotten. Seven women were now laughing and being chased. Running after them were the only two other mortal men on that world, the stocky Bear and the leaner Steve.

"Why did that have to happen right now while I'm in the middle of cooking?" Donald groaned. "Mattie, would you mind taking over the barbecue for about an hour?"

Matt looked to Emelina for an answer.

"Remember will be expecting you to chase her." She smiled at him. "I will keep Donald entertained for now, if I must."

Matt grinned back at Donald. "I guess I've got me a woman to catch."

"Then you'd better get to it, before somebody else catches her!"

Feeling as strong and vigorous as ever, Matt smiled with a happiness he hadn't felt in a very long time. A moment after that, he got up and broke into a run.