Part 6 (1/2)

Laughter again.

”Not going to make it with that, you f.u.c.king dolt!”

The taunt made Tony jerk his head up. One the side-lines, stood a faceless figure dressed in white pants and a red s.h.i.+rt. A white sweater hung about the figure's shoulders. Tony could not see the face.

”You need a putter!” the voice insisted and broke in uproarious laughter.

I have a put-Tony balked. He no longer had a putter. He was holding a fencing rapier.

”What the h.e.l.l is this?” he exclaimed. He didn't care in the least what his sponsors might think of his language. ”What the f.u.c.k? I can't play with this!”

”You can't play with that either!” the voice rang out and giggled like a ten year old girl. Tony did not want to look down, but he did, the fencing foil still in his grip. When he looked up, a treeless land surrounded him. All was empty. Where was his caddy? Where were his fans?

”I can't play like this!”

”I agree with you,” the figure said. There was light blazing past his head as if he were standing in front of a searchlight.

”They told me if I made the shot I'd get everything! I can't make the shot like this! With this!”

”Oh really?” the figure asked. Lord almighty, Tony wanted to see this guy's face. ”And you believed them?”

”Yeah, well...”

”Hm. So you can't make the shot then?”

Scowling, Tony looked back to the hole. Right on the cusp of the drop. Right on the edge.

”Nope.”

”Then try another way,” the figure sounded impatient.

That was a thought. How? ”This is f.u.c.king stupid! f.u.c.king impossible!”

They changed the rules on him right in the middle of the game. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Didn't even bother to tell him. c.o.c.k-n.o.bbling b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! If they gave him s.h.i.+t later, he would throw this entire episode in their faces. His thoughts raged for a moment. He finally dropped to his knees and hunkered over, reversing the foil and attempting to use the thing like a pool cue stick. It was awkward but useable. The ball was practically in the hole anyway. All he had to do was give it some love. Just a nudge.

Laughter, again.

”Will you, please, SHUT THE f.u.c.k UP!” Tony roared.

”What kind of game you playing there, Elmo?”

”Elmo?” Tony straightened up on his knees. ”You r.e.t.a.r.ded or something?”

Then, Tony saw something he didn't quite understand but took perfectly in stride.

The hole was missing.

He blinked. It was still gone.

”Where's the G.o.dd.a.m.n hole?” he cursed. The figure was also gone. The gra.s.s around the flat green has risen up, creating a billowing wave like one might see if they were diving off a vibrant green coral reef.

”Still there,” the voice said from somewhere in front of Tony. ”Just not as big as you remembered it.”

”This is f.u.c.ked,” Tony snarled and threw away the fencing foil, which was now a length of rope.

And Tony sensed the smile around the words ”As is finding me...”

He woke up. Blackness. He was in bed. The door to the living room was open. A greyness that was not quite light marked the far wall. Then, he heard the giggle and the hair on the back on his neck stood up, and a s.h.i.+ver went through him. He strained to see something, anything. The giggle, again, soft like a child's, coming closer in the darkness at the foot of his bed. Oh, Jesus! ”Who's there?” Tony demanded.

He got a giggle back.

Then the claws grabbed his ankles.

Tony woke up with a gasp and a sensation of falling. The rapping on his door became louder. Tony tore his face out of his pillow and sucked in air, hoping to G.o.d above he was awake this time. The pounding got louder.

”Yeah, YEAH! ALRIGHT!” he fumbled with the caul of his sheets before tearing himself away from his bed. He kicked the clutching sheets back. He stood and yawned mightily. It was black in the room. And it was cold. The air immediately chilled his bare flesh, bringing out goose b.u.mps.

Tony took a step forward and crunched the smallest toe on his right foot into his dresser. He grimaced with pain and quietly doubled over, cras.h.i.+ng off the corner of his bed and landing halfway out of his bedroom's doorway.

The knocking stopped. Silence listened.

”Don't f.u.c.king tell me you're gone, now?” Tony groaned, lying on his back. His toe felt as if he had driven it somewhere into the back of his foot. What good was that small toe anyway? He couldn't think of a purpose for that dangling piece of meat other than a brief appetizer for a dog. If there were a generic pain b.u.t.ton on the entire human body, it was the small toe. He flexed it and grimaced again, taking in a huge gulp of air. It wasn't so bad. It wasn't broken, which was nice to know given how early in the morning it was.

Or was it still late at night?

Slowly, Tony sat up, hands before him. He groped for wall, letting his fingers feel the way, and found his baseball clock. It blinked 5:38 AM. Tony blinked back. It couldn't be that early. Who the h.e.l.l was banging on his door this early?

His mouth suddenly went dry. It was the hospital. It was his mother. Oh, Jesus...

Tony rose to his feet and speed-limped to the living room. He grabbed his s.h.i.+rt and blue jeans from the sofa where he had thrown them down the night before.

”I'm coming,” he hollered through the fabric of his white t-s.h.i.+rt. Red lettering swore that 'we don't have a split personality disorder.'

”I'm coming,” he repeated. ”Just wait.”

Sockless, he reached his outer door and clawed at the three locks. Metal snapped on metal like a shotgun being readied. He pulled it inwards with a jerk.

”Good morning, Mr. Levin,” greeted one of the pair of strangers standing at his door. Tony blinked at the pleasantry. The two men were dressed for winter, standing there bundled from head to toe in heavy charcoal black trench coats, toques and thick checked neck scarves. The one who had spoken regarded Tony with a ”you ok?” look for the briefest of moments before smiling. He had a gash of a mouth with almost no visible lips. The man's face was hairless, smooth-looking and barren of any facial lines. It must have been a trick of the light. The man's face looked doll-like, but he was obviously older than Tony. He possessed almond-shaped eyes of a smoky grey, like the fog enveloping the city on spring days.

”Are you alright?” the man asked. The mouth hooked up on one side in a bad smile. ”We heard the noise.”

A nod towards his partner. His partner appeared every bit as hairless and erased of facial lines, but his head was shaped funny. It was oval and long as if it had been pulled out of a monkey's a.s.s. The dude must've been teased fiercely as a kid with a head like that. But the man's eyes were different. His eyes were black. Tony took back his previous thought. There was danger about the man that Tony could sense. He suspected that if there were any teasing directed in football head's direction, there would not be enough plaster to mould the body cast needed for the offender.

It was much too early in the morning to have to deal with these two visitors.

”Mr. Levin?”

”Yeah,” Tony said after a wary pause.

”May we come in?”