The Smell of the Deal

by Chris Kuell

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

Jack had no idea how much alcohol was in the drinks or how many drinks he had consumed. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear his vision. When he looked back, she winked.

Jack tried to play it cool. “Sounds just dandy to me, darling. Where do I sign?” He gave her his most charming smile, but she didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“There’s nothing to sign between friends. A willing heart and a verbal agreement will do just fine.” Her face took on a strange quality, as if she couldn’t decide whether to tell a joke or throw a drink in his face.

Jack sobered a bit and adjusted himself on the stool. Half joking, he asked, “And how do you intend to bring me this incredible financial fantasy?”

“At this point I can’t give you the details, just the promise. But I’ll deliver as long as you keep your side of the bargain.” She took her empty glass along with his near empty one and chucked the remnants into the sink. Without washing, she refilled them both.

“What do you mean by bargain?”

She smiled, amused. “They always ask that. Of course we are dealing with cosmic realities. There are no lawyers or appeals. It’s simply the way it is. I’ll deliver, and you’ll become my loyal assistant when the time comes. Quite simple actually.” She returned with the drinks, stirred with her finger then licked it clean.

“Are you trying to insinuate what I think you’re trying to insinuate?”

“Those two and a half years of college really pay off sometimes, eh?”

Jack’s eyes grew wide. College had been a grind, memorizing book loads of useless information only to regurgitate it back on a test. In six months the information was long forgotten and erased from the hard drive. Jack was too impatient for that. He wanted to get out in the real world and make his way. He didn’t need that academic crap; he had always been plenty smart. So after Christmas break his junior year, he’d left Johnson State behind, and exchanged it for years and years of... What? Misfortune? Ending up half in the bag, drinking with this luscious lady whose name he didn’t even know, trying desperately to wash away his blues? But how could she know that?

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said. He took another healthy gulp of the liquor. He didn’t feel like there was any danger, but he was beginning to think that this chick might be a little too freaky and maybe it was time to hit the road. On the other hand, he enjoyed her company. Those few moments when she held his hands and he dreamed as if he were on a Xanax high were fantastic. This incredible lady was able to make him believe that things could get better. Maybe his life wouldn’t end up completely down the toilet.

Forbidden desire, a compulsion really, made him want to learn more. This woman possessed a certain magnetism that Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on. The touch of her hands and the sweet nature of her words had stirred something inside way beyond the sexual. In the haze of his current condition, he felt a bond, a kinship, with this lady. What harm could a few more minutes do? Jack decided to play a little while longer.

“So, if I pledge my soul, you’ll fix the troubles at my company?”

“I can ensure more orders than you could ever imagine.” She took a long sip from her straw while he processed this. She leaned in again, elbows on the bar, and slowly swayed her hips to unheard rhythms.

“I have to become your assistant, eh? What does that involve exactly?”

“Basically, wreaking havoc on the earth in the form of a spirit or another being, my discretion. It’s easy work and most people grow to enjoy it.”

“I bet they do.” What a trip. He had a good buzz going now. The drinks were going down smooth and easy.

“I sense disbelief.”

“No, no, I’m just trying to understand, that’s all. What kind of havoc you got in mind? Little stuff, like traffic jams and lost keys or biggies like genocide or world war?”

“My discretion.”

Jack’s palms tingled, and an icy shiver snaked down his spine. Things were getting a little too strange. Her lips drew tight with disapproval. She really believed she was Satan, and cosmic connection or not, it was time to go.

Yet some unseen force kept him planted in his stool, urged him to take another drink. He considered standing, making his good-bye, maybe even enjoy a close embrace, but paused, unfocused. Would he do it if he could? If business could just pick up, it would solve so many of his problems. He’d have the time and money to take his son to the best doctors in the country. He could fix things with Sharon, take her away on an expensive cruise, get a maid to help with the housework.

Her laugh snapped him back to the moment. “Yes indeed, your life would be better, no doubt. So, whatcha’ say?”

Wariness and caution struggled with his yearning for security. “It all sounds great, but to be honest I’m still a little skeptical,” Jack said in an effort to stall. Then, with a sudden burst of inspiration, he blurted, “How about you do a little something devilish right now so I can be sure?”

The whites of her eyes beamed as she laughed. ”Proof? You’re pathetic. You’re all alike, so damn arrogant.” The small droplets of spittle that flew from her mouth ignited with a phosphorescent glow.

“And how shall I provide this proof? Shall I list my recent achievements like experience on a resume?” She was on a rant now, with the look of a rattler right before it strikes. “1980 to current: Dark Angel. Responsibilities include inflicting AIDS epidemic across the globe, although we are really kickin’ ass in Africa. Some pretty good hurricanes down south and a hellacious tsunami last year in Indonesia. Team leader in an intense effort to improve the state of terrorism globally. Over three million car accidents, year-to-date.” She glared at him. “Shall I go on? Or shall you find out for yourself when we join forces?”

A sudden frost coated the windows. Goose bumps the size of mole hills blanketed his arms and thighs. Why couldn’t he move? He wanted to run. He needed to stay.

The woman drained her drink and placed the glass carefully on the bar. She smiled wider than humanly possible. A muscle twitched in her neck, and a slight shudder pulsed through her. Concerned that she was having some sort of seizure, Jack reached to catch her, but her shudder turned into quicker, faster convulsions, causing the floor, the bar, the whole room to vibrate.

Her muscles twitched, increasing in rhythmic speed until she appeared blurry. Jack saw her as if looking through a glass of water, her body spreading out into ripples, concentric circles of pulsating energy. Instantly, her face transformed into a featureless apparition. Her long, curly hair shortened. Her chin grew longer; her skin grew puckered and wrinkled.

Jack stared in frozen fascination as her formless body became an autumn orange color, then a reddish brown. The vibrating slowed and the new, hellish form became clearer.

Fantasy girl had become a dirty, clay-colored figure. It had a face with eyes, a mouth and more of a snout than a nose. It wore no clothes and had no hair. Blisters covered its hide, as if its outer skin had been ripped off, doused with gasoline and burned with a blowtorch. There were arms with hands, still placed on the bar where the woman’s had been.

“Does this form better suit your imagination?” The deep voice reverberated through the bar. It laughed with glee at the obvious shock and horror on Jack’s face.

His temples pounded. His chest felt squeezed by steel cables. This was not some psycho broad with a tempting ass, it really was the devil. Either that or he just joined the ranks of the hopelessly psychotic. Jack couldn’t take his bulging, bloodshot eyes from the revolting creature across the bar. Still, though every fiber in his being demanded that he run, he stood fascinated by the creature.

“What did you do to me? Did you spike my drink? Who-what- the hell are you?” His own warbling voice frightened him further.

“Don’t be so alarmed,” boomed the dark baritone voice. “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help. I’m from Human Resources!” The devil shook with laughter at its joke.

Jack stared, mouth open, senses overloaded.

In a jovial voice the demon said, “Let’s have another drink and think things over. Whatcha’ say?” Without moving, the glasses on the counter were once again full and brimming with fresh ice. The devil grabbed its glass and raised it in a toast.

“To our impending partnership.” It drained the glass and wiped its lips with a blistery forearm. The excess drink sizzled and evaporated.

Unaware of what he was doing, Jack raised his glass and sipped. The liquid could have been anti-freeze. He just knew it felt good as it slid down his throat. What the hell was happening to him? Why wasn’t he running out of here as fast as he could?

Those thoughts evaporated from his mind as an emotion, no, a thrill, filled him, like getting the front seat of a roller coaster. Part of him knew that this was just wrong; any sensible person would know that. It’s one hundred percent insane. But still, it’s the front seat, the leader of the pack, king of the hill.

The thought of making a deal that would take care of him and his family electrified Jack. To hell with all the naysayers and creditors that were always causing him grief. Life was just a series of compromises, right? That reasoning agreed with him. Maybe it’d be worth it.

“Gimme’ another drink.” Jack tossed it back like water. “How long, you know, until I have to, uh, come to your side?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Black marble eyes stared at Jack. “It’s not your time yet.”

“But when? You must know this stuff.”

“Not entirely, I’m afraid,” said the devil. “I’m oftentimes just as surprised as the deceased. Scheduling can be a bit of a nightmare. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to enjoy your good fortune.” The creature leaned forward and studied him.

Jack knew he should ask more questions, but parts of his brain had shut down. Indecision blended with fear and fascination.

The devil offered its right hand, dark and withered. Ancient. Jack felt compelled to put out his own trembling hand. Cold sweat saturated his shirt.

“Do we have a deal then?”

Jack’s attention was drawn to its mouth — an immense void of darkness. No tongue, no teeth, no flesh, just space. Time shifted in Jack’s reality, his world changed to slow motion. His breathing almost stopped, his starving lungs craved more air.

The devil breathed hard, anticipating the culmination of an excellent night’s work. The sound came in globs like gas bubbles gurgling through thick sulfur springs. Its breath reached Jack’s nose a second before he clasped the devil’s hand. The stench was unbearable, a sickening odor of rotted meat. Time snapped into the realm of fast forward.

Jack unfroze and leaped from the bar stool as he jerked back his hand. His empty glass shattered into a thousand tiny fragments as he elbowed it to the floor.

The devil expanded, towering above him. “You must agree to the conditions now, or watch your life disintegrate. Do you want to know what it really means to suffer?”

Every muscle tensed as the stench of the Beast’s breath enveloped him. His intestines seized.

Time snapped again and Jack found the energy to turn and bolt for the exit.

The heavy wooden door swung open, and he stumbled into the motionless night. He turned down the broken sidewalk and moved away from the bar, breathing hard, trying to place his feet back firmly on the uneven pavement. With every gulp of air the lingering stink from the devil’s breath filled his nostrils. Preoccupied with the urge to vomit, Jack failed to notice a low growl coming from between the buildings on his right.

Two gold specks raced towards him. Like one of his kid’s remote control cars, they came at full throttle, little headlights gleaming in the murkiness. Jack paused, perplexed by this intrusion into his already confusing world. A brown and black form emerged from the darkness of the alley into the illumination of the streetlight. Jack paused. The thing leaped at him with jaws open wide, sharp incisors intent on fresh meat.

A man not in Jack’s condition would have stuck out his forearm to block the attacker from ripping apart his throat. Slow off the draw, Jack caught the animal in the side of the head with his elbow. The momentum of the leap swung the dog’s torso sideways into Jack, knocking him flat in the street, but saving his neck for the moment.

The dog recovered in no time and pressed its advantage for the kill. Jack made it to one knee, one hand on the pavement. The dog sprang again. This time Jack managed to block the razor teeth with his forearm. The dog gnashed ferociously, tearing denim and flesh like wet paper. Hot pain flashed through his arm and he screamed. Blood trickled and pooled in the elbow of his sleeve. Without warning, the dog let go and backed up a step. Jack braced himself while the animal growled, its ears flat against its skull, fresh blood glistening on its teeth, its eyes yellow reflectors full of hate.

Jack spat into those eyes when the dog lunged. The dog ensnared the sleeve of his jacket. Jack pulled the dog back and forth like a puppy hanging on a chew toy. The animal fought to rip off his sleeve, and Jack thought he might lose his arm.

Over the din of their tug-of-war Jack heard the rumblings of a gearshift. Suddenly, headlights washed over them as a large blue truck rammed into the side of his attacker. The force of the blow sent both of them tumbling across the pavement. A pitiful moan escaped him as he came to a stop on his chest.

Jack opened his eyes. The dog, about ten feet away, struggled to get to its feet. The truck backed up.

The dog’s hip was twisted at an unnatural angle, and now more than Jack’s blood dripped from its mouth. Still, it managed to get to its front two paws, dragging its entire body toward Jack. The truck accelerated forward and ran over the animal.

Jack turned and vomited. The grizzly crunch and pop of the tires crushing the dog played over and over in his mind.

When the retching had subsided, Jack got to his feet and teetered for a second. The truck backed up and shifted into park. The driver was a dark-haired woman. As she got closer Jack noticed the unusual maple leaf earrings.

“Holy shit, pal, you all right?” She tossed her lit cigarette to the street; a shower of tiny red sparks indicated the landing. “Lemme’ see your arm. Looks like your bleeding pretty good.”

Jack held out his arm. There were a few deep rips, and the denim was soaked with his blood. He had to bite down when she rolled back his sleeve. The woman reached in her pocket, told him to hold still. She opened a Swiss army knife, and then cut away the jacket sleeve.

“Not too bad,” she said. The woman took the tattered piece of sleeve and wrapped it around his forearm where the major lacerations were. Then she went back into the truck and returned with a ratty scarf. She tied the scarf around the wrap.

“Put your other hand around this and squeeze.”

Jack did as instructed, groaning when she squeezed her hand over his. “Hold it tight, Mister Friendly. You don’t want to lose any more blood.”

“I’ll be all right,” he said. “Thanks for helping me.”

“Damned mutt. Scares the hell outta me every time I leave that place. Only a matter of time before it got out and mauled somebody. Guess you had the honor of being Rex’s final snack.”

Jack smiled and even managed a mild laugh. What a day.

“Get in,” she ordered, and went around to the driver’s side. “You’re gonna need to see a doctor for that. Gonna need antibiotics and maybe a few stitches.”

Jack climbed in and asked if they should call anyone about the dog.

“What about it?” she said. “It’s got a collar, so I doubt it’s got rabies. They’ll send somebody to scoop it up later. You wanna go home or to the hospital?”

“Home,” he said without thinking. “I need to go home.”