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Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Characters described in Who's Who in the Parodyverse
***
It was raining on Christmas Eve 1974 in Birmingham. There was still frozen slush from a few days earlier, grimy now like the rest of the city. As night fell the temperature dropped to eight below freezing.
Fist smashed a window in an abandoned garage and forced open the back door. The interior had been burned out some time before but the roof was intact over the back room. A mouldy sleeping bag and a floor covered with condoms suggested that others had sheltered here before.
Maggie could barely squeeze through the trash-blocked doorway to get out of the wind. At a full nine months gone her belly stuck out from her emaciated frame like a beach ball. She staggered over to the sleeping bag and dropped onto it. When she got her strength back she shook the needles off it.
“This’ll do,†said Fist. “You can pop the kid here, Mag.â€Â
“The hospital…?†the pregnant girl suggested.
“Not an option,†he boyfriend said. “You turn up there they’ll want your name. And then they’ll do a check-up on you.†He tore Maggie’s sleeve back to reveal the track lines on her forearm. “And then they’ll take your baby away and send you back to the home.â€Â
“I’m not going back there,†Maggie snarled. That was where she’d got pregnant, after all.
“Well then, this is where we stay,†insisted Fist. “I got a knife. When you squeeze the kid out I can cut the cord.â€Â
“I’m scared.â€Â
Fist shrugged.
“Don’t you care?†the girl asked him. “I thought you did, once. But you stopped caring when you stopped being able to sell me at truck stops, didn’t you?â€Â
“I’m here, aren’t I,†Fist said. “And I’ve got a knife.â€Â
Maggie laid back and clutched her belly. The pains were coming regularly now and she thought that meant the baby might be coming; at fifteen she wasn’t entirely sure.
Fist squatted down by the door and cleaned his blade.
He’d need that to kill the baby when it came.
***
On Christmas Eve 2010 the light snow had created traffic chaos in Paradopolis and Gothmetropolis York. It was the wrong kind of snow, apparently, so the monorail was shut down stranding passengers trying to get home to spend the holidays with their loved one at terminals and bus depots. An accident on the Englehart bridge and road repairs around Off-Central park didn’t help either.
Liu Xi Xian was surprised to find Alto Tumour’s bookshop still open as night fell. “Don’t you close for Christmas?†she asked the fat slobby man who was reading a magazine behind his cash till. Whatever magazine it was required the book to be held sideways.
“For a corporate-sponsored media-manipulated marketing event?†Alto asked with a pitying gaze at the naïf who’d wandered in from the cold. “Are you kidding? Besides, Christmas always brings in the weird overnight customers, you know.â€Â
Alto’s bookshop specialised in occult volumes, although the general condition of his stock tended to provoke the words “second-hand†rather than “pre-ownedâ€Â.
“Your boyfriend’s in the back carrying out pagan fertility customs,†Alto told the Chinese elementalist.
“He’s what?†Liu Xi blinked. She rushed back to the little nook under the stairs that Vinnie rented as his office. The cupboard behind it doubled as his bedroom. She found Vinnie putting up a two-foot high Christmas tree.
“Hi,†the acting sorcerer supreme of the planet called, waving. “I was worried you wouldn’t get here.â€Â
“Traffic was awful,†Liu Xi admitted. “I was so tempted to just fold void to get here.†Vinnie’s girlfriend was an elementalist, controlling the traditional elements and the void behind them, but recently the void had become a very dangerous place.
“Don’t,†Vinnie warned her. He tried to cover his worry by showing her the tree. “Look,†he said, “our first tree. Treelet. Collection of branches.â€Â
Liu Xi examined the sad specimen. Already it was shedding needles across Vinnie’s desk. “Do sorcerers celebrate Christmas, then?†she asked curiously.
“Depends on the sorcerer,†the young occultist answered. “And how much they like a good party. And how many spells they know with a sprig of mistletoe.â€Â
Liu Xi pressed closer to her boyfriend. “And how many do you know, Vinnie de Soth?â€Â
“We’d better count as we go along,†he grinned back.
Liu Xi noticed something else about the tree. “Oh! You’ve already set a present out under it! Is that for me?â€Â
Vinnie looked down at the tiny silver package. “I didn’t put that there,†he frowned.
Liu Xi checked the label. “To Vinnie,†she read, “season’s compliments from Xander the Improbable.â€Â
“Oh crap,†shuddered the acting sorcerer supreme. Xander was the actual sorcerer supreme, albeit a sorcerer supreme-in-absentia. He tore open the parcel and studied the contents, then swore.
“Something wrong?†Liu Xi frowned.
Vinnie nodded his head. “I have to go out,†he told her. “Will you wait?â€Â
“Can’t I come?â€Â
“Best not.â€Â
“Where are you going?â€Â
“To church.â€Â
***
Reverend Mac Fleetwood shook hands with the last of his midnight service parishioners and closed the reinforced doors of the Zero Street Mission. He doused the main lights of the scruffy little chapel, leaving one advent candle burning on the altar.
“You can come out now,†he called.
The homeless man shuffled from behind the row of chairs where he’d been hiding. “You knew I was here?â€Â
“I’ve been pastor at this mission for eight years now. I’ve developed survival instincts.
The homeless man shuffled forward. He wore an old army coat and a knitted cap. He could have been anywhere between twenty-five and fifty years old.
“What did you want?†Mac asked him, gathering up hymn books and carrying them back to his vestry. “Do you need to talk about something in private? Do you need a meal?â€Â
The homeless man shuffled into the office behind the pastor. He drew the switchknife from his pocket.
Mac saw the weapon. “Bad idea,†he warned the intruder. “Put it down and we’ll talk through your problem.â€Â
“My problem,†the homeless man said, “is that you’re not bleeding yet.â€Â
Mac backed away, but the office was small. “No,†he said calmly. “Your problem is that I served seven years as a Marine chaplain before I came here.â€Â
The homeless man didn’t even see the pastor move until the baseball bat cracked into his knuckles. The knife dropped from his shattered hand.
Mac prodded him in the chest with the end of the baseball bat, sending him tumbling backwards on the step by the door to the church hall. “You might want to stay down while I call the police,†Mac advised.
The homeless man’s mouth began to froth. His eyes changed, becoming red and luminous. “Fine,†he rasped in an entirely different voice, “let’s do this the old-fashioned way, then.â€Â
Mac paused. “ A demon? Really?†he asked.
“Call us Legion…†began the creature inside the homeless man.
“I’ll call you idiot,†snapped the pastor. “Listen, I’m not an expert – well, I’m a minister so I guess I am a bit, but you know what I mean – but from what I’ve picked up fighting vampires and all the other weird things that wander round this town, and a really really nasty Doomwraith once, if one of you guys starts acting this blatantly then my side gets to make a blatant response too.â€Â
The demon rose up, dragging the flesh it was wearing with it. It moved more like an insect than a man.
“And if you read to the end of the book,†Mac confided, “you’ll find out that my side wins.â€Â
“I’m not going to kill you tonight,†the demon promised the pastor. “Only cripple you. Long, lonely years unable to move or see or speak.â€Â
“And when my side acts… well, have you ever heard of someone called Messenger?â€Â
The demon realised that Mac was looking behind him. A nasty prickling feeling ran up its borrowed spine.
When the demon turned round Mac hit him again with the baseball bat. It hurt a lot.
“Well Messenger isn’t here,†Mac admitted, “but I do polish my bat with holy oil.â€Â
When the screaming stopped and the homeless man passed out, battered but unpossessed, Mac dropped to his knees panting.
He grabbed the bat again as he heard someone else at the door.
“Um, hi,†called his new visitor. “I’m Vinnie de Soth. Please don’t bat me.â€Â
Mac rose to his feet. “This is a bad time to call, I’m afraid. I need to get this man to hospital.â€Â
“I only call at bad times,†the acting sorcerer supreme admitted. “It’s in my job description. Anyhow, I was hoping you’d come down to ER with me anyhow.â€Â
“Why? Is there somebody needs a minister?â€Â
“Yep,†agreed Vinnie. “From my information she’d been needing one since 1974.â€Â
***
Maggie shivered in-between the contractions. The grubby sleeping bag was damp where her waters had broken. She wasn’t sure that there should be blood on the blanket too.
“It hurts,†she told Fist.
“Yeah,†he replied.
“Have you got any stuff? Anything at all, just to make the pain go away?â€Â
Fist shook his head. “That junk’s not good for the kid anyhow. If you start shooting up while you’re dropping him then you’re not gonna get that mother of the year award.â€Â
“Bastard.â€Â
“No, that’s your kid,†Fist snarled. “Just shut up and get on with it. I’ll be back soon.â€Â
“Don’t leave me!†Maggie cried. “Fist!â€Â
“I said I’ll be back,†her boyfriend repeated, tossing his knife. “I’m just gonna go make some collections from some carol singers.â€Â
***
Marjorie Wilton looked up from her book as the doorbell rang at Wendel’s Hallow. “Who on earth could that be at this time of night?†she wondered.
Her husband put aside the cricketing almanac he’d been studying with his feet up to the fire and got up. “I’ll go and find out,†he promised. “Don’t disturb yourself, m’dear.â€Â
Sir Mumphrey Wilton left the library and padded on slippered feet towards the entrance hall. He could hear a raised voice.
“Ah don’t care what time it is here in Eng-ah-land, Jeeves. Just go get your *%$^$ boss and tell him ah got to speak with him, you dig?â€Â
Sir Mumphrey didn’t like his retainers being spoken to with disrespect. “What is the meaning of this, sirrah?†he demanded. “Well, speak up, man!â€Â
The visitors at the door were a tall black man in a leather duster and a brown-skinned girl in a short white fur coat. The girl smacked the man on the back of his head. “See what you gone and done now?†she scolded him. “We didn’t come here to piss off this dude. We came here to get his help. So you just mind yo’ mouth and talk to him nicely.â€Â
Sir Mumphrey grumphed in mild approval.
The young woman flashed a brilliant beaming smile at him. “Sir Mumphrey Wilton, we sure come a long ways to find you’all. I’m Venus, and this here is Mahogany Coffy, the MachoMochaDemonicDetective! Can we come in?â€Â
“Of course, m’dear,†the eccentric Englishman answered. “Can’t be havin’ you staying out in the cold on an awful night like this, what? Come and get warm by the fire. Madge, company!â€Â
“Amateur,†grumbled Coffy as he stepped over the threshold. “If we’d have been vampires or the like, just inviting us over the threshold would’ve been a death sentence!â€Â
“My dear sir,†Mumphrey addressed him, “had you been vampires and you crossed my threshold you would have been destroyed immediately. This is an old house and there are… precautions. Enough said.†He smiled back at Venus. “Now come in and tell me what’s brought you so very far on Christmas Eve.â€Â
***
At 12.40am on Christmas Day, Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital ER was crowded and noisy; and yet despite all the crisis and pain there was an underlying order.
The Night Nurse moved along the line of people waiting, assessing, triaging, reassuring. She had a knack for spotting those people who needed the most urgent attention and getting them in front of a doctor in time to help them. The junior doctors who’d pulled the short straw of night shift were generally happy to do whatever the attractive brunette RN asked.
Nurse Dubois looked up from the domestic violence burn case she was bandaging and nudged Grace O’Mercy as she passed with a pile of X-rays. “Say, what’s your boyfriend doing here?â€Â
The Night Nurse followed her friend’s gaze and saw Mac Fleetwood out at reception. “We’re just good friends,†she said automatically. “If you think about his job and my condition you’ll work out why.â€Â
Francine Dubois snorted. “See me throwing a handsome ex-Marine out of my bed on account of him being a good kind strong man who takes his religion seriously.â€Â
“I don’t see you throwing anyone out of your bed, Francine. But really I don’t want to get him in trouble with his boss, and I kind of have an allergy to a lot of the stuff in his house.â€Â
“Crosses, holy water, that kind of thing?†Nurse Dubois guessed. She was one of only two hospital staff who knew that the Night Nurse was a vampire; a vampire who saved lives in ER every night and survived on plasma from the blood bank, but a vampire nevertheless.
“Look, even the Christmas carols they’re looping in the foyer set my teeth on edge,†Grace admitted. “And I quite like the Muppets.â€Â
Francine shrugged. “Well, your not-boyfriend’s coming over. If you don’t want him any more you can introduce me.â€Â
Mac strode across the waiting room. If Grace had reflected in mirrors she’d have checked that her hair was in place. She didn’t need to examine her make-up; with naturally red lips and dark eyes she didn’t need any.
“Hey, Grace,†Mac called. “Listen, there’s a problem.â€Â
“Isn’t there always? What’s wrong this time?â€Â
The pastor looked apologetic. “Apparently it’s something Xander the Improbable set in motion. You evidently need to come with me. I’m sorry, but it’s urgent. We need to make a house call.â€Â
“Now? Have you seen this place?â€Â
“I’ll talk to Dr Whitwell, get it cleared.â€Â
Grace caught Francine’s thumbs-up sign behind Mac’s back and sighed. “Where do we have to go?â€Â
Mac tugged at his dog collar. “Yes, um… apparently we have to go to Birmingham, England. In 1974.â€Â
***
A little flicker of light woke Visionary. He opened his eyes and saw Hallie laying on the bed beside him.
“Um…†said the possibly fake man.
“Relax,†said the Lair Legion’s holographic A.I. “To anticipate your question: no, we did not have sex and you forgot about it.â€Â
“Oh, right. Good?â€Â
“I know you have issues with women creeping into your bed. I didn’t mean to give you flashbacks.â€Â
“No, that’s fine. As problems go, that’s not one of my worst ones.â€Â
“It’s just that I’ve had an unusual request from a team-member our in the field so I thought I’d better run it past you if you.â€Â
The leader of the Lair Legion shuddered. “It’s not from the Shoggoth is it? Because if so I’ll need to hide under the bedding before you tell me.â€Â
“No, it’s from Vinnie. He wants to know if he can claim something on expenses.â€Â
Vizh looked suspicious. “What?â€Â
Hallie smiled bravely at him. “A flock of sheep.â€Â
***
“Ah yes,†said Sir Mumphrey Wilton. “1974, eh? Recall it well. Back in the days when I’d put aside the Chronometer of Infinity and was growing old gracefully with Madge. Then suddenly there was… well, can’t say. Temporal paradox and all that, what?â€Â
“What?†asked Mac Fleetwood uncertainly.
“Does any of this make any sense at all?†asked Grace O’Mercy plaintively. “Only I was following the plot right up to the point we collected the sheep.â€Â
Goldeneyed was crossing the Lair Hangar at the moment, back from a late-night Christmas party. He paused to stare at the Brecknock Hill Cheviots grazing amongst the LairJets. “Has Yo decided that rabbits aren’t enough?†he asked worriedly.
“The sheep are important,†Vinnie assured her. “Although we’ll only need to take three with us.â€Â
“To 1974,†said Mac.
“Yep,†Vinnie answered. “Sir Mumphrey will use his temporal pocketwatch to charge up a suitable vehicle that we can use to traverse the timestream. We’ll be there until the charge wears off.â€Â
Grace looked up at the LairJets.
“Too large and too anachronistic,†Vinnie warned her. “Mumph needs something from that time period. So I asked…â€Â
The hangar doors boomed open and a Yule-cheerful hemigod of thunder strode into the bay. “Ho, fellow revellers! Rejoice and make merry for the nonce! I hath found thee suitable transport!†Donar paused as he spotted the sheep. “Tis a good job I found thee something sporty. Yon ovines do not look up to pulling a very large cart.â€Â
“I mean, everyone else can see the sheep, right?†G-Eyed checked.
“Lending young De Soth your goat chariot, are you?†Mumphrey asked Donar. “Good chap.â€Â
“Er, actually mine chariot is in the shop,†admitted the hemigod. “The dwarves did suck in their breath and say unto me that getting yon ding out wilt not be cheap. But I hast found a suitable replacement that wilt easily accept yon time-zappeth and convey heroes to yesteryear.â€Â
“Nobody’s actually explained why it has to be us,†Grace pointed out, “or what we’re supposed to do. Or why.â€Â
“That sounds like a Xander plot,†Vinnie admitted. “So what have you got for us, Donar?â€Â
The hemigod proudly pulled aside the hangar door. An old carved runner sled stood there, harnessed to eight reindeer.
“Why is there a sack of toys in the back of that?†wondered Goldeneyed.
***
At 1.45am on Christmas morning 1974, the ringing of a telephone woke an old woman from her sleep. She reached out and dragged the received under her duvet. “This had better be good,†she answered the call.
“Hello, Penny,†said Marjorie Wilton on the other end of the line. “Listen, I know this sounds like an infernal cheek, but it seems that Mumphrey needs your help. There’s something rather ungodly afoot according to a loud American Negro in the billiards room and apparently you’re needed to help sort it all out.â€Â
“I’m retired, Madge. I thought Mumphrey was too. What’s so terrible that I have to get out of bed on a freezing cold Christmas night?â€Â
Marjorie Wilton told her.
“Oh, right-o then. I’ll be there presently.â€Â
The old lady replaced the received and struggled into her slippers.
“Problem?†her companion asked her from the dressing table.
“Somewhat,†Penny Pepper replied. “We’d best go and see what can be done.â€Â
She picked up her faithful talking knife and shoved it in her handbag.
“What is it this time?†Knifey asked the old lady.
“Birth of the antichrist,†she answered as she looked for her bike-clips.
***
“It’s coming!†Maggie gasped, clutching the iron radiator on the wall of the abandoned garage. “The baby’s coming.â€Â
“About time,†said Fist, preparing his blade. If the child didn’t die it couldn’t be reborn as the avatar of ultimate evil.
Maggie didn’t know her boyfriend’s full name yet. Fist was only the middle syllable.
***
Continued at New Year
***
Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2010 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2010 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
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It all came together quite well at the end.
Well, most of it did, anyway.
So, the Anti-Christ would be ... 36 in modern times?
And yes, this is both the perfect time period and the perfect genre for my Blade knock-off character. 
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