BLUE SERPENT

BLUE SERPENT
by Jenny Perry Carr

Jimmy Aldeen wedged the crowbar into the door frame, despite his better judgment. He swore he wouldn’t do this again, but here he was. Leaning into the pry bar with all the weight he could muster from his slight frame, he heard the satisfying crunch of the deadbolt splintering through the wood and grinned. Still got the touch.

The door popped open, and the lanky twenty-something glanced over his shoulder as he slipped across the threshold. Pete followed behind carrying a lumpy duffel bag. Shattered glass from the light bulb they had knocked out crunched under foot.

“Shhhhh.” Jimmy pressed his index finger to his pursed lips, like a school librarian.

“What? Nobody’s here,” Pete said.

“And I wanna to keep it that way. Watch where you step.”

“Go. Let’s get this done.” Pete waved a tattooed arm at him, dismissing his caution.

They crept into the darkened side entrance of the warehouse. An old wooden sign hung off kilter on the exterior corrugated metal wall. ACME Imports & Exports, LLC, it read in faded brick red paint.

Jimmy eased the door shut and peered through the window, clouded with years of dirt and grim. His watch read 11:54 PM.

“All clear,” Jimmy said.

The hair stood on the back of Jimmy’s neck. He rubbed his hand over tight muscles.

“Why are you so paranoid?”

“Don’t know. Just have this feeling.”

What is going on with me? I’ve done this a hundred times. Am I losing my nerve?

Jimmy exhaled. Get through this job. Just one job.

Musty air wafted through the large warehouse. Rusty industrial lights hung from the ceiling and provided minimal illumination. Pete threw the duffel on the floor and withdrew box cutters and flashlights for each of them.

Jimmy scanned the area with his flashlight. Cardboard boxes packed the building from top to bottom. He sighed. It was going to take hours to find what they came for. They sliced open cartons and rummaged through the contents.

Pete pulled a doll from a box. “Whaaa. You wanna play wit da dollie?” He spoke with his best baby talk impression, then sucked his thumb.

“Shut it.” Jimmy threw a roll of packing tape at Pete, who ducked out of the way. They laughed and got back to business.

Pete kicked over a pile of boxes and let out a whoop. Jimmy shot him a critical glance. They didn’t have time to mess around. They didn’t need to draw any suspicion from outside. He should have done this alone. An easy in and out job. Quick money. But the take was curiously high compared to the average smash and grab. He suspected it might be riskier than suggested.

Jimmy walked away from the business two years ago and went legit. But times were hard, and the pull of fast cash drew him back in. He begged for more shifts at the garage. But a mechanic’s pay wasn’t enough to cover all the bills and put food on the table. He also helped his mom out since she kept having to choose between buying her medications or eating. That was no way to live. The choice to get back in became a no brainer.

As always seemed the case, he had found his way back to the little Bohemian café where Lazlo Ziga, his contact, frequented. Cigarette smoke clung to the air and every surface in the funky restaurant. Crystal beads hung from the doorways, and colorful, tacky paintings filled every inch of wall space. There Lazlo sat, facing the door, stroking his beard and stirring an espresso cup, as if he had been expecting Jimmy. He had barely sat down before Lazlo started giving him the details of a job.

“I need you to find me a book,” he had said. “An old leather book.” How hard could that be? It must be a fancy book, because Lazlo offered him, “Ten grand, but only if you do it fast.” Who could refuse that?

“What’s the catch?” Jimmy had asked.

“Just an heirloom the family wants recovered from the Horvath family,” Lazlo said.

And there it was–the catch. Family business. The Zigas and Horvaths had been feuding for years, centuries in fact. And here was Jimmy, thinking about getting caught up in the middle. He made a point not to get too involved. But what could be the harm? It was only a book. And as long as they didn’t get caught, they wouldn’t have to worry about retribution. Who would even know they were there? In, out.

So, here they were, the next night, breaking into the warehouse where Lazlo said the Horvaths hid the book. Lazlo’s men had scoped out the building in advance and told Jimmy there was no night security guard on duty. Easy take.

Pete rifled through a box, then dumped it upside down onto the ground, the contents clattering to the floor. The sounds echoed off the metal walls of the warehouse. If Pete was anything, it wasn’t refined. Uneducated and vulgar, he hung with a rough element, but Jimmy always felt at ease around guys like him. Pete had been out of work for months, so he figured he’d bring him along to split the take and cut down on the search time. Pete wasn’t the smartest guy, but his calloused hands showed the hard work he put into life. With each loud noise Pete made, Jimmy questioned his decision to bring him along.

“Can you at least try to keep it down?” Jimmy said.

Pete looked at him with an open mouth. “What?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Nothing. Any luck finding it?”

“Just garbage.” Pete held up a box with phone covers.

The Horvath’s import/export goods packed the warehouse. Jimmy looked at his watch, 1:15 AM. Only six hours until sunrise, but a security guard could check in before dawn. They needed to pick up the pace and find the book.

“Step on it,” Jimmy said, “time’s running low.”

“Roger,” Pete said and started punching through the box tops with fervor.

A series of hollow booms erupted behind Jimmy. “What the–?” He spun around and found Pete side kicking cartons over and spilling the wares to the floor. Jimmy exhaled, blowing the hair off his forehead, and shook his head. “What a goof.”

“Hey, Jimmy. Check this out.”

“What you find?”

“I don’t know. What’s this?”

Surrounded by the debris field he created, Pete stood near a gap in the boxes. He uncovered a passageway leading deep into the cartons.

“That’s strange,” Jimmy said.

By the entrance to the warehouse, they found the boxes stuffed together. But here, cartons loomed over them, arranged into long hallways fifteen feet high. While it was odd, it would make it easier for them to access and search random boxes for the book. Maybe they wouldn’t have to pull down every box.

The minutes ticked on as they hunted, now 2:30 AM, and they were still coming up empty. They navigated their way down the passages, crafted into a maze of sorts. Not at all what Jimmy expected. Who would stack boxes like this? It wasn’t an efficient use of space. They came to a fork in the passageway of cartons.

“You go that way.” Jimmy pointed, then set off in the opposite direction. He thumped the pry bar along the boxes as he scanned through the labels. DVD players. No. MP3 players. No. Toys. Kitchenware. Clothes. Pillows. No, no, no, no. Where is it? Who am I kidding? It’s not going to be labeled. They would have to open a lot of boxes. Maybe all of them. They didn’t have time.

Jimmy cupped his hands to his mouth and called out to Pete. “Any luck?”

“Nope,” the muffled voice replied. “Oh, wait…” Pete’s words trailed off.

“What’d you say?” Jimmy waited for a response. “Pete?”

Jimmy worked his way back through the labyrinth of shipping boxes. He heard something. A thud. Then another, and another.

Whump, whump, whump.

It sounded hollow, like something hitting the boxes.

“What’s going on, Pete?” Jimmy shouted and picked up his pace to a jog, winding his way towards the sounds, now growing louder.

Whump. Whump. Crunch. Bang.

Crash.

Jimmy rounded a corner and saw a large open area within the boxes, at the center of the maze.

“What in the…” Jimmy said.

Pete found some kind of shelter, like someone lived here. A dirty bedroll rested on the floor. A stack of old books gathered dust. A small faded wooden crate held a little hurricane lamp that filled the space with a dim orange glow. Canned goods rolled back and forth next to an overturned milk crate. Pete kicked the stack of books, and they skidded across the ground.

“What are you doing?” Jimmy furrowed his brow. “Somebody lives here, man.”

Pete cackled with laughter and stuck out his tongue. He flicked it like a rock star, much like the heavy metal musicians featured on his concert t-shirt, and gestured the sign of the horns with a tattoo-covered arm. “Lemme see your crowbar.” Pete held out his hand.

“No.” Jimmy shook his head. “Don’t you have any respect?” I should have done this alone. Why did I bring Pete? “Cut it out, okay? We have a job to do. Remember?”

“Lemme have my fun, dude.” Pete picked up an old leather book and drop kicked it high into the air.

The book flew up over their heads. It fell and land squarely into the hands of a haggard old woman.

She appeared out of nowhere and stood at the entrance to the little box camp. The woman looked homeless, dressed in tatters. She wore a threadbare drab skirt, frayed at the bottom. Her clothing included several layers of sweaters and overcoats. Green galoshes several sizes too big for her small elderly frame gaped open at her calves. A fuzzy gray knit cap covered her matted salt and pepper hair. Grime covered her from head to toe, shrouding her face in shadow.

She looked down and ran her fingers over the embossed pattern on the timeworn leather tome. Her gnarled digits peeked out through her black fingerless knit gloves, fingernails caked with dirt.

“There you are.” She bent forward, whispering to the book.

The book.

It was the book.

Where did she find it? Why did she have it?

Jimmy stiffened. His cheeks flushed red.

“Yeah… We’re supposed to pick up a package from… um… um… Frank?” He cringed at his own words. He’d always been a terrible liar.

The woman held up a knotty index finger to silence him. She looked around at the devastation of her makeshift apartment. Her eyes saddened.

“I know what you came for. Aurelia knows.” She patted the cover of the book as she shook her head back and forth.

“Why don’t you just give us the book? We don’t want any trouble,” Jimmy said.

“It’s not yours to take,” she said. “Besides, what use is Romany magic to you?” Her words were barely above a whisper.

Magic? What have we gotten ourselves into?

“Gimme that book you old hag.” Pete lunged for the woman, but somehow, he tripped and crashed to the floor before he reached her.

She pointed at the pry bar in Jimmy’s hand. “You chose this life. This life did not choose you. It suits him,” she gestured to Pete, “but does not suit you.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Jimmy looked at his feet, immediately sorry they disrupted this homeless woman’s sanctuary. She probably didn’t have anywhere else to go and must not have any family that could help her.

“Your sympathy, I don’t need. I have a rich life with a grand family that loves me.” She seemed to know his thoughts. It must be something she often heard.

“Rich life? Yeah, right.” Pete chuffed as he got up, kicking a soup can across the open space as he brushed dust off his pants.

“Come on, Pete. Enough. Leave her alone.”

Jimmy turned back to the woman. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We should just leave.” She wasn’t going to give up the book, and he didn’t want any violence. He might be a thief, but he wasn’t a thug. He’d never lay his hands on a woman, much less an old one. He walked towards the narrow passage between the boxes, gesturing Pete to follow.

“Let’s go.”

Jimmy reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He slid out a folded twenty and handed it to the woman.

“I’m sorry for the mess we made. Please take this.” She took the bill from Jimmy and nodded, her eyes warm and caring.

“A thief who pays for his crimes? There is hope for you yet, young man.” Her gaze turned to Pete, and her eyes narrowed. “And you, how will you pay?”

“Pay you? Get out of here. You’re crazy, lady.” He kicked at her bedroll, flipping it over.

“Then we will let Fate decide.” She slipped the twenty-dollar bill into her jacket pocket with a nod. The binding creaked and cracked as she opened the ancient leather book, the pages yellowed and wrinkled with time and use. Flowing handwritten text and detailed drawings filled the pages. Jimmy couldn’t make out any of the words from his vantage point.

She leafed through the pages, one by one. “Let me see now. Payment. Payback. Here we are.” The tip of her index finger marked the spot on the page.

“Are we going to sit here and listen to this nutty lady?” Pete rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but she blocked the way to their only exit.

She mumbled, reading from the book in a language Jimmy didn’t recognize. Was that Polish? Hungarian? It sounded like an Eastern European language. She swayed back and forth and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Her repetitive chant grew louder and louder, faster and faster. The orange light from the lantern flickered and dimmed.

“Oh my God!” Pete shouted, looking down at his forearm in horror. “What is this?”

Pete held his right arm out stiff in front of him. A large tattoo ran from Pete’s wrist to his upper arm, a stylized representation of a large blue serpent. Pete’s eyes widened, and he fell back, crushing the shipping boxes behind him.

Jimmy stepped backwards and watched in disbelief as the tattoo of the blue serpent moved. The two-dimensional snake’s tongue flicked in and out of its mouth. It slipped itself around Pete’s forearm, the scales glistening in the muted light. An audible hiss filled the air.

As the serpent moved, it grew more realistic. The flat tattoo gaining detail as it slithered around his limb. Pete’s arm bubbled up in irregular lumps, like undulating boils. The bumps gave the serpent form. It changed as it moved, becoming three dimensional.

Pete clawed at his arm.

“Stop! Please stop this. God help me.”

“Your God can’t help you now. Fate has already chosen your punishment.” She smiled and waggled an arthritic finger at him.

The blue serpent made its way from Pete’s forearm to his upper arm. It slithered up onto his neck, where it wound itself tight like a heavy blue scarf. The scales slid over Pete’s mouth, covering his muffled cries. His eyes grew wide and frantic as he tore at the snake.

Jimmy froze in place, shocked at the scene before him.

“You have to stop this.” Jimmy pleaded with the woman.

“Fate has brought him what he deserves. If not today, then someday. His time in this world is done. He made his choice.” She nodded and seemed satisfied with her response.

She slammed the book shut with a bang. Jimmy jumped with a start, snapping him out of his stupor.

The blue serpent tightened its hold. Pete’s face turned dark red, then purple, then blue. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. The veins at his temples swelled. His fingers tried in vain to loosen the serpent’s muscular grip. He fell to the floor and thrashed back and forth, until his struggle slowed and finally stopped with one last futile kick. Pete stilled on the concrete floor.

Jimmy’s mouth hung open. He dropped his pry bar, which clanged on the floor, and rushed to Pete’s side. The serpent slithered its head around and faced him with pitch-black eyes. Jimmy jerked back.

“Let him be,” she whispered.

The serpent circled around and dipped its angular head into Pete’s t-shirt collar. Jimmy watched the shape of the snake underneath the fabric as it wound around his torso. The blue serpent slithered its way down his arm. It coiled itself back into place where the original tattoo was. Shiny scales faded and glistened no more. Three dimensions became two as it flattened into his skin. The living flesh of the serpent turned back to ink. Its forked tongue made one last flick with a lingering hiss.

Jimmy recoiled and tripped, falling backwards onto the floor. His head drooped, and he cupped his face in his hands. He sobbed, the lifeless body of his friend at his feet.

Why? Why did this happen? It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Pete to come with.

Jimmy felt a warm and gentle hand squeeze his shoulder. The hairs on his neck poked up again. He looked at the woman.

“Pick a different life, my son. Make the right choice. And always trust your instincts.” She ran her fingers along the bristled hairs on the back of his neck, and a shiver slid down his spine.

Jimmy covered his face with his hands again, still in shock.

What am I going to do? What should I do with Pete’s body? What should I tell his family? Should I call the police?

They would likely arrest Jimmy, either for killing Pete or for breaking and entering. Either way, he was in big trouble. He rubbed his eyes and wiped away the tears. It was decided. He would do the right thing.

He sniffled and pulled his hands away from his face. The floor in front of him was bare. Pete was gone.

Jimmy got up and whirled around. The old woman had vanished. The books. The bedroll. The cans of food. The lantern. All gone. Intact boxes towered over him, everything in order.

Jimmy ran through the maze of shipping cartons to the entrance. Pete’s duffel bag was gone. The box where he had pulled out the baby doll was undisturbed, taped shut. He looked at the side door. No splinted wood or evidence of a break in.

Where’s my crowbar?

Jimmy’s heart beat against his rib cage. Everything appeared untouched.

What is happening?

He had to get out of here.

Jimmy turned the deadbolt and dashed outside. He took in a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs, and he closed his eyes.

What just happened?

“You got the door open already? Were you just inside?” Pete’s face wrinkled up as he walked with the duffel bag in his hand, pointing at the open door.

Jimmy’s eyes widened. Pete is alive?

Was this a dream? A vision? Did time roll back?

Whatever it was, he was thrilled to see Pete. Jimmy rushed over and wrapped his arms around his friend. He picked him up off the ground and spun him around.

“Whoa. Whoa. What’s gotten into you, man?” Pete pushed back against Jimmy’s grip.

Jimmy released him from his embrace and wiped away the tears from his eyes.

“We’re not going through with this. The money isn’t worth it. Let’s go.” He caught site of the blue serpent on Pete’s forearm, and a chill ran through him. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you why.”

Pete followed Jimmy back to the car, scratching his head.

“Are you kiddin’ me? I mean, are you serious? For real, what’s gotten into you?”

“It’s Fate.”