Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure Read online

“But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation”.

  Jonas sighed, already tired of the popular song. It was on the radio constantly. He heard it at stores, in cabs, on the bus, in the dorm. It was played everywhere. Elliott laughed, then pushed Jonas out of the hallway and into the kitchen. It was just as crowded, though a third of it had been converted into a makeshift bar.

  “Give them the beer then get us something real to drink,” Elliott shouted over the music.

  Jonas nodded, then approached the bar. Two tall blonde women were behind it. The first to notice him flashed a smile that didn’t even go skin deep.

  “What can I get ya, babe?”

  “This is for you guys. Make me something to get the night really started,” he said with his best smile. She did a double-take, then nodded. She accepted the box of beer and put it behind the table, then started to mix up a drink out of a lot of bottles. When she turned back to him, she had a real smile on her face.

  “There you go. This one is my favorite.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Adios, Motherfucker,” she said with a wink and wicked grin. He accepted it, then took a sip.

  “Woah, that’s delicious!”

  Elliott took one as well, and they walked through the slider into the back yard. The music was instantly quieter. The yard was large and surrounded by a fence. Beer cans littered the ground. A fire was blazing in a large metal cage. They sat in chairs arrayed around the fire and sipped on their drinks.

  “Okay, I have to know,” Jonas started. Elliott looked at him placidly over his drink. “Since when do you party? That’s always been my thing.”

  “That’s a long story,” he started to answer.

  “I’ve got all night.”

  “Well, I was invited out last week by Madsen. It wasn’t the first time. Actually, it was like the fiftieth time. But I gave in and came here. It was okay, until—”

  Just then, a small missile decked out in all pink crashed into Elliott from the side. He managed to keep his drink from spilling as he laughed. Jonas looked on in confusion, sipping his drink.

  “You came back! I thought I had scared you off.” The weapon turned out to be a tiny woman, no taller than four-nine. Her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail which extended just past her shoulders. Her outfit looked like a jogging suit in all pink. She even wore running shoes. She practically vibrated with energy. Elliott sat up, making room on the chair for her. She sat on his lap instead, knees to her chest and head on his shoulder.

  “Are you going to introduce me to this whirlwind?” Jonas asked. Elliott laughed and nodded.

  “Angie, this is my best friend, Jonas. Jonas, this here is the reason I came back this weekend.”

  “Oh no,” she said with a groan. “Are you telling the story of how we met?”

  “I have to,” he said with a wide smile.

  She turned and beat on his chest with her fists, though it was clearly playful. She shook her head. “No, you can’t embarrass me like that!”

  “It’s no worse than what you did to yourself.”

  “Yeah, but he’s your best friend,” she said with a mock pout.

  “That’s true. That means he’s going to find out one way or another.” He turned back to Jonas.

  “So, last weekend I was getting my drink on. The night was getting long, and I was pretty hammered. I remember getting up to go pee. I relieved myself in the bushes, then walked into the kitchen to get a fresh drink, and I heard angry shouting. Next thing I know, a giant dude stumbles past me with a howler monkey attached to his face.”

  She punched him in the arm and he laughed. “Okay, okay! Madsen said something stupid to Angie, so she jumped on him and started beating on him. It was hilarious to see, since she’s not even half his size. Madsen called out for help, and I did what any good friend would do.”

  “You sat back and laughed your ass off until he threatened you,” Jonas said with wry amusement.

  Elliott laughed and pointed with his cup-laden hand. “Got it in one. Then I walked over and pried this little miss off him. I grabbed us a few drinks and we came out here to talk. Just kinda clicked.”

  “What did he even say to you?” Jonas asked Angie.

  “Honestly, I don’t remember. I was drinking quite a bit too. But my hero here defused the situation expertly. What he didn’t mention was Madsen getting ready to beat me into a pulp. After he pulled me off Madsen, he leaned in and said something too quietly for me to hear. The fight just left him then.” She leaned in closer and kissed Elliott’s cheek. “He really was great.”

  “Yeah. What did you say?” Jonas asked Elliott.

  “Pretty simple. I told him I’d make sure everybody knew he got his ass beat by a girl half his size if he did anything else. I’ve kept it to myself since.”

  “Well, until you told me.”

  “True,” Elliott shouted as he raised his cup in a cheer. Jonas shook his head and touched cups before slugging back the concoction.

  “That really is good. I think I’m going to get another,” he said as he stood. He returned a few minutes later with a fresh drink. Elliott and Angie were far too busy making out to notice his return. He shrugged and walked back inside. He wandered through the crowded lower level, then up the stairs. As he was ascending, a beautiful young brunette woman bumped into him. He nearly spilled his drink but righted just in time. He turned and heard her shout “Sorry!”

  He shrugged and continued upstairs. A few doors were open, a few closed. He heard a crash of noise over the music and followed his ears to a large den. In the center of the room was a large table covered in felt with balls moving all over.

  “Oh, cool! A pool table.”

  “Yeah,” Madsen said. He had a few scratches on his neck that were well healed. “You ever played?”

  “No, never had a chance.”

  “Then it’s your lucky night. I’m gonna teach you.”

  Madsen turned out to be a patient and kind teacher. He walked Jonas through the mechanics of the game one step at a time. Once he was confident in his progress, he encouraged Jonas to try a few shots. He marveled at how reactive the balls were. Each shot seemed to send them flying.

  “Take it easy man. You’re shooting like you’re angry at the balls.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Jonas said sheepishly.

  “It’s cool man. Let’s play a game. I’ll go easy on you.”

  They played pool, eventually trading friendly insults, until the early hours of the morning. Elliott showed up after an hour with Angie in tow. They took turns all playing on the table. When Elliott yawned widely, Jonas asked what time it was. The music had long since stopped downstairs.

  “Oh, uh, like six am?” Replied Madsen. He looked at a clock mounted on the wall and nodded. “Yeah, just past six.”

  “Oh, crap. I have class today.” Jonas hurriedly readied himself, thanked Madsen for the party, and ran out of the house. He walked back to campus, stopped at the cafeteria and grabbed coffee, then rushed to class. He walked in as Calhoun did.

  “You’re late today, Mister Quartermain.”

  “Late night, Professor.”

  “As long as it does not affect your performance today. I will not be repeating the lesson.”

  "Yes, sir,” Jonas replied. He took his seat and prepared to take notes. He woke near the end of class and groaned. The other students were already packed and on their way out.

  “Remember class, we are doing a short unit on Hieroglyphics. Extra credit to anybody who can make their own cartouche by the end of the semester.”

  Jonas made a mental note to study hieroglyphs in what little spare time he had before Calhoun ushered him out of the room. He sighed and resigned himself to finding one of the others for their notes. After his second class of the day, he tried to track down any of the other students. He finally ran into Dylan at the library.

  “Hey man, can I copy your notes for today? I had a really late night and accidentally slept through
the class.”

  “I’m not really comfortable with that,” Dylan replied.

  “Why? They’re just notes. You’re not going to get graded on them.”

  “I’m just not, okay?”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  He sighed and went back to his dorm. He dug his Archaeology textbook out of the pile on his desk and flipped to where they had left off on Friday. He studied for the rest of the afternoon. Shortly after dark, a knock sounded at the door.

  “Yeah?” He called absently over his shoulder.

  “Yo, want to go party?”

  “You know I want to, Elliott, but I have to study,” Jonas said sadly.

  “Now I know something is wrong. You’re turning down a chance to party, and it’s to study,” Elliott said with a laugh in his voice.

  “Yeah, and you’re partying all the time. Now who’s weird? Wait, I think I know why. Angie.”

  “Duh.” Elliott rapped his knuckles against the doorframe as a farewell. “Catch you later dude.”

  Jonas nodded and got back to work. When his stomach rumbled, he took a break for food. He left his room and walked through the cold and dark campus to the cafeteria. He made it in just before it closed for the night. He grabbed a plate full of food and ate quickly. When he returned to his dorm room, he collapsed on his bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  5

  Jonas showed up at Holcomb’s Pharmacy Friday afternoon after his last class. He greeted Danielle as he walked in. She grunted in response, surprising him. She had acknowledged him.

  “Wow,” he said. She looked up from her magazine, gum frozen in a bubble before she could pop it. “I must be your best friend with a greeting that warm.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, returning to her magazine. He shrugged and walked to the back. Holcomb was in his customary place on a chair behind the counter, hidden by a newspaper. Jonas prepared himself mentally, then placed his hands on the counter.

  “Good afternoon, Mister Holcomb.”

  “Oh goodness, Jonas. Haven’t I told you to call me Andrew?” Holcomb folded his newspaper neatly as he stood.

  “No sir, and if you don’t mind, I would prefer to call you Mister Holcomb. You are my boss, after all.”

  Holcomb paused while placing the newspaper on the counter. He was deep in thought for a moment before speaking. “I see. If that’s what you wish. Let me see what we can have you do today.”

  He set out a plan for Jonas to clean the shelves, organize the merchandise, and face everything forward. The store was small enough that the busy work was done after an hour. Holcomb nodded his approval, then indicated an empty chair near the end of the counter.

  “Good work. Now for the rewarding part. Take a load off your feet.”

  “Uh, okay,” Jonas said. He wasn’t used to working by any means, but being told to sit and do nothing was a new experience to him. He felt strange as he took a seat and stared at the door. He still had rarely seen any customers enter the store. Boredom quickly overtook him as he waited for something to happen.

  Before he knew it, his eyes had closed of their own volition. His head sank to his chest, and he began to snore. Holcomb looked over his newspaper at Jonas, then met eyes with Danielle. A small snort escaped from him and she nodded back.

  Jonas felt uneasy in his dream. He felt like he was tumbling through a void. Impenetrable darkness surrounded him, feeling formless and without limit. He shouted and heard nothing in return. As he moved without moving, he became increasingly certain that something was watching him. His skin prickled, the small hairs at the back of his neck raised on end. His adrenaline began to pump, despite seeing, hearing, feeling nothing. He willed himself awake.

  “The Night of Crimson,” said an unfamiliar voice in Egyptian Arabic. It was strange, yet he could understand it.

  A pair of glowing red eyes opened in the darkness only feet away. Jonas jumped in shock and fell out of his chair.

  Holcomb put his newspaper down and stood quickly.

  “Jonas, are you okay?”

  Confused, Jonas looked around. He was on the floor of the pharmacy. He shook his head and sat up. He checked his arm, and though it hurt from the fall, it was whole.

  “Yeah, I must have fallen asleep.”

  “Sounds like quite the dream,” Holcomb said. “Are you sure you are okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” Jonas reiterated. He stood and sat down on the chair.

  Holcomb looked at his watch, a simple black band and black face analog. His eyebrows rose.

  “Oh my, it looks like we all lost track of time. It is time to close already.”

  Danielle nodded and started to count out her drawer. Jonas went about preparing the store for being closed for the night. Holcomb put his newspaper away and locked up the Pharmacy itself. Ten minutes later, they were on the sidewalk outside the door.

  “Thank you again for your hard work. As I recall, you took ten dollars of your pay last week. That means that you are very nearly done paying your debt to me. Come in tomorrow at your leisure, and you can work the last two or three hours that you owe.”

  Jonas nodded, already thinking over his options. “I’ll be here early, Mister Holcomb.”

  “Up to you, son. Have a good night now.”

  Jonas thanked him and headed back to his dorm room. The walk back was consumed with thoughts of the strange dream. He tried to study when he got back to his room. However, the harder he tried to focus, the harder he failed to at all. He gave up and walked over to the cafeteria for food.

  On his way back to his dorm room, he took a detour. When he arrived, he knocked on Elliott’s door. A moment later, the door opened. Elliott looked disheveled, his hair was in disarray, and his clothes were rumpled. It looked like he had just rolled out of bed.

  “Jonas, hey, what’s up man?” Elliott said a little breathlessly.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Just have a bit of time, thought we might hang out.”

  “Oh, uh, sorry. I’m a bit… busy,” Elliott said as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Got it, catch you later,” Jonas said as he started to turn away.

  “Yeah, for sure, buddy. How about tomorrow afternoon?”

  “I’ll see. I have work tomorrow,” Jonas said with a wave. He heard the door click shut behind him. Weary from the day, he walked back to his own room and collapsed into bed. He fell asleep still in his clothes.

  His dreams were haunted by a hazy image. He found himself in an abandoned house, wooden boards creaking underfoot. Water had started to leak through the roof sometime in the previous decade, leaving long blackened streaks down the walls. Mold flourished in the damp, cold environment. He walked through the main hallway, a staircase to his left and sunken living room to his right. Further back, he could see a kitchen. There had been carpet in the living room at one point, but it had rotted away, showing the subflooring.

  A gust of wind pushed at the house, causing it to creak ominously. A tile on the roof pried free in the wind, letting loose a howl of hellish anguish. The flashlight in his hand flickered. A single heavy step sounded above him. The floor above groaned under unexpected weight. He entered the kitchen, seeing a horrid array of fungus and mildew. They had taken over whatever had been left in the sink all those years before. The fridge door hung loosely open; the top hinge having given away. It had black fungus tentacles extending from the depths.

  The table in the center of the room had a kitchen knife stuck into it. Unlike everything else in the house, it was new. The handle was still slick and black. The blade shone brightly in the beam of his flashlight. He reached out and pried the knife free. It felt good in his hand. Bloodlust filled his thoughts for one hazy moment. Then the knife fell free from his hand and he gasped.

  A step sounded above. The house creaked. The darkness loomed. He turned and left the kitchen, an unknown question still burning at his lips. He walked to the hallway and up the stairs. It was a relatively sma
ll house consisting of three floors. Two bedrooms extended from the hallway at the top, with a small bathroom opposite them over the garage. He opened the first room and found it had been a child’s.

  Bright, cheery wallpaper had faded and crumbled with age. Toys were scattered on the floor. A dilapidated crib sat in one corner, falling apart under the weight of time and neglect. He shut the door, hoping it would stop the ghostly wailing that had started when he opened the door. It did not. The cries of the dead child followed him to the next room.

  He opened the door and was face-to-face with the dead man that had been walking the room. His work boots brushed the floor as he swung in an unfelt breeze. His skin was drawn tight with long death. He had been mummified by something before the house fell to disrepair. His tongue had shriveled with time, yet still looked like a grotesque worm trying to force its way into the constricted throat. The rope creaked against the ceiling fan.

  He turned away, sorrow in his heart. The bathroom was next, but it too had been exposed to the elements. The window had been busted in by an errant baseball. The tiling was falling off the wall. The light fixtures had sagged, the mirror was crusted with grime. Even as he looked closer, only the vaguest shadows could be seen through the film. He turned away from the mirror, almost missing the wide, toothy grin in the shadow behind him. Two teeth had been prominent, elongated canines sticking out of the mouth. It was like the teeth glowed. He had no control, couldn’t turn back. The toilet was broken in pieces. The water had been shut off years before.

  He descended the stairs, knowing he had to check the final room. He dreaded the confrontation that would surely occur. A thousand tiny feet moving in sync. He could hear the itching sound of so many limbs in movement. The door to the basement opened on creaking hinges. First one, then another hinge gave out. The door sagged in and fell down the stairs. All sounds from below ceased.

  “Are you here to play?”

  The voice was horrifying. It was bright and hopeful, like a small girl with too much knowledge and a gleeful disposition. It repeated the question.

  “Are you here to play?”