Freddie Fingers
by William Ollie

July 2002:

   It was late in the evening, and although the summer sun was all but gone from the sky, it was still hot. Soon it would be dark and he needed to find shelter. For a reason he didn’t quite understand, he left the highway and walked into the desert.

   The sign said one mile, so he followed the dirt road until he found himself in front of an old wooden gate. Though the letters were faded and some were missing, there was a sign at the entrance. With gnarled fingers that looked more like claws than fingers, he grabbed the gate and pushed it with his deformed right hand. The rotted wood gave way and one of the hinges came loose.

   "Hey!" the bum called out. "Hey! Anybody here?!"

   When he stepped through the gate, goose-bumps crept up his spine. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up, and inexplicably as it might’ve seemed, a cold breeze blew across his face.

   His name floated through the air, pushed toward him by the wind. Had someone…some thing spoken his name, or was it all in his mind?

   It was coming from the house, beckoning him, calling him forward.

   No one had called him that since he’d left Corcoran. No one on the outside dared to call him that. The closer he got to the house the louder the voice became, but when he stepped onto the porch the voice stopped. The sky darkened as the sun dipped behind a ridge. Suddenly, lightning flashed and something behind him howled. Freddie turned. The wind was swirling, picking up dust and pieces of paper, slowly at first, then spinning faster and faster. There was a whirring sound, as if someone was starting a helicopter.

   "Dust Devil," whispered Freddie, as he watched the dirt move around, dust bouncing off the transparent walls inside the windy chamber. A light began to emanate and inside the chamber, the dust and the dirt came together to form an outline. The outline became a face, with eyes and a beard. Freddie thought that it looked remarkably like the face of Christ.

   "What the hell?" It really was too much for Freddie to absorb.

   The mouth started moving. Then, like a grade B Kung Fu movie, the words came out in short staccato bursts.

   "Freddie… I’ve been waiting… for you… Freddie…for thirty-three…years."

   "Who are you?" Freddie asked. "How do you know my name?"

   Again, the mouth moved and a couple of seconds later the words spilled out.

   "I know all… about you… Freddie…I’ve known you… all your life."

   Freddie stood there, mouth wide open, mesmerized by what he was seeing and hearing.

   "Your mother…was a whore…You don’t know…who your father was…No one has ever…paid attention…to you…but I have."

   Freddie raised his deformed hand, nervously, stifling a gasp as he covered his mouth.

   "You’re a liar…and a thief…Nobody knows about…the boy you…killed in reform school…but I know."

   "Who are you?" Freddie asked. "What are you? What do you want from me?"

   "The Mother…has been squandered… The world has… gone bad…They have strayed…and they must…be punished…The end is…coming…You will…gather an army…of children…They…will punish… the evil ones…The end is…coming…When it is done…we shall…rule the world…You will…not fail…me as…the other…did."

   "This isn’t real." Freddie backed away and the face became a mass of swirling dust. A low thrumming sound came forth. He turned, thinking he could flee but he was wrong. He looked up and saw that there was nothing in the sky. No moon or stars to cast a light. It was pitch black. He couldn’t even see the ground that he was standing on. But there was light behind him. Freddie stepped up to the light and watched the face reassemble.

   "This can’t be real," thought Freddie.

   "But it… is…real, Freddie…Fingers…Give me your…hand…Give me…your…fingers."

   "H…huh?" Freddie stammered. "What?"

   "Give me…your fingers…Now!!!" the face commanded.

   Freddie lifted his right arm. He thrust his hand into that tempestuous chamber and watched as his fingers began to glow prismatic. For a moment, or maybe two, there was excruciating pain. Freddie screamed, and suddenly his hand became numb. Like a vine captured in some crazy slow-motion time-lapse photography, his index finger extended upward and then grew straight. He howled with delight as the rest of his fingers followed suit.

   Freddie’s mind went as black and as blank as the sky behind him. Suddenly, against the backdrop of his darkened consciousness, a series of scenes played out before him:

* * *

August 2002:

   Under the cover of darkness, they slip over the wall. Their long robes flow behind them as they run quietly across the lawn. Freddie’s Family. Harbingers of Death. The Four Horsemen. Soon, Freddie’s will shall be done. Kneeling at the hedges, they watch their prey. Three men and four women, milling around the patio, feeding from the table like hogs from a trough. The Banker Man that wouldn’t give Freddie his loan is entertaining guests. There is laughter but the sound that filters through their drug addled minds is the squealing of pigs.

   Fizzy smiles knowingly and winks at Lindy. Mother Mary gives Cupid an approving nod and steadies the blade in her hand. She’s eager. She can hardly wait for Bama Man to give the go ahead. When he does, they burst through the hedges.

   They’re on them now. There is no resistance, just fear. Mother Mary fells Banker Man with a single stab in his back. She’s disappointed. There should be more blood, much more. So she falls on him, stabbing him over and over, laughing at his pathetic cries for help. Now there’s plenty of blood, rivers of it. Gunshots ring out. Pain filled shrieks fill the night. Begging and pleading won’t stop them now, and Freddie’s Family doesn’t stop until they are all dead.

   Their mission a success, they race across the lawn and jump into the old Volkswagen Bus. They turn up the ancient 8 track and All you need is love fills the air around them.

   "Ain’t it the truth," Bama Man says. Mother Mary agrees with him and says so.

   Fizzy lights a joint and passes it to Cupid, who puts it to her lips with blood stained fingers.

   Through the city, down the highway, they make their way to Topanga Canyon. Racing down Santa Susana Pass Road, they turn onto the dirt road. As they approach the gate, the same old faded sign welcomes them to their home. To the ranch. To Freddie.

                                                                _________________________

Wel ome to the Sp hn Ranch.
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 ©2004 William Ollie