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Part VIII: 1896- Hate's Consequence
"You're a funny fellow, Mr. Sto-Ghee," Netta said tensely, "But listen to me when I tell ya, because it'll be the only advice you'll get... You stay in one spot down here in the cellar. You stay in a spot, and you don't go anyplace, no matter what you hear. And if you do hear anything..." she had gone very pale, "Stay put."
-Netta
Stogie's sarcasm faded away in favor of actual concern. Not that he'd show it, but Netta appeared to be 100% genuine.
"OK," he nodded, wringing his hands. "I mean, I'm a bit of a restless sleeper but I'm sure that won't be a problem for the, uh..." Stogie took a deep breath, praying it would be... "...rats. Pretty sure I'll be fine."
His eyes widened, realizing he almost forgot something. "Just remembered! Hold up!" He reached into his pocket, pulling out his trusty wallet. "That lady was so busy dressing me up like an idiot, she didn't see me snagging what's mine from my old pants..." Searching in his wallet, he pulled out five bucks. "There's your tip."
"Tip of what?" Netta asked confusedly, though she gasped at the sight of the bill, "Sto-Ghee, you're making fun of me or torturing me or both! You know what they'll do to me if they see me carrying around some funny money with Mr. Lincoln's face on it? I'd get worse than this cellar, make no mistake!"
-Netta
"Funny money? But it's just a..." Stogie did the mental gymnastics in his head. "Oh. Right. Your bosses probably don't like Abe too much." He put the bill back in his wallet and took out a twenty in its place. "Well, they'll like Andy a whole lot more." He pressed into her hand. "That's the cash I save up for reparing my Heelies and what not, but I don't think I'm gonna get the chance to use it much so...I dunno, buy yourself something nice, like a..." Stogie struggled to find historically accurate recreational products. "...tobacco pipe...or a Bible...maybe a bag of marbles. Whatever. Knock yourself out."
Netta looked the bill over, "You really think I could go out in this town with any kind of money and get myself somethin' nice?" she shook her head, "I don't know where you come from Sto-Ghee, but it must be a mighty fine place that you can have notions like that."
Still, she folded the bill neatly, sticking it into the pocket of her apron, "Now, remember what I said about that cellar. Keep to yourself, and mind yours, and you'll make it through the night just fine."
-Netta
Stogie nodded, catching her drift. "Right. Guess it would look suspicious. Maybe you can go break it up at an ATM..." He trailed off, realizing his mistake again. "Y'know what, I'll stop talking, before I make any other historically inaccurate comments." He took a step into the cellar before turning to say, "Good night, Netta. Thanks for the sponge cake."
"It was my job, Sto-Ghee," said Netta with a tiny smile, "And my pleasure," with that, she slammed the door in his face, sighing softly and sadly as she turned the lock in the bolt.
-Netta
Stogie's heart jumped when he heard the lock click on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he stepped down the creaky stairs, one at a time.
Creak. Creeeeeeeeeeeak. CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAk!
He was slow about his steps, as if he was expecting some sleeping monster around the corner. However, as Stogie got to the foot of the stairs, his fears were unfounded.
"Huh." Stogie muttered. "Not too bad." His face lit up with an idea, digging in his sailor pants for... "My phone!" Not only did he snag his wallet in the sailor outfit fiasco, but his phone as well. It was a good thing too. God knows what he could have done to the timeline should this technology fall in the wrong hands.
Was that how this worked? Maybe Stogie should have asked Galdamez, before he so rudely bounced.
Nevertheless, Stogie checked his phone as he sat down in the corner.. Fully charged, but what to do? Look up the Gilded Age, do some research on when he was? Time travel logic, and seeing which one made the most sense for his purposes? Call the cops?
Call the cops...would that work?
Always determined to experiment, Stogie began to dial 911. "Yeah, I'll call the fuzz...in the present. Tell them some lunatic has me under his spell at that whack White Castle, they cuff him and get me out of here." Before Stogie could realize that his plan was completely foolhardy as there were cell towers in 1896, a rattling from the opposite of the cellar caught his attention.
rattle rattle. rattle rattle.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Stogie's heart stopped. The only light in the room besides the phone was the glimmer of moonlight through a narrow barred window near the ceiling. From what Stogie could see, the room was barren, aside from a few...chicken bones.
"Um...hello?" Stogie whimpered sweating bullets.
rattle. rattle. rattle.
No response. Then, suddenly...
"Rat! Rat!" Stogie pressed himself against the wall, dropping his phone as a rodent came into view in the windowlight. However, the terror was soon replaced with relief. "Rat. I knew it was rats..."
"HISSSSSSSS!" A figure leaped from the corner, snagged the rat with its claws and feasted on its insides!
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Stogie wailed, terrified out of his mind at this...this....what was it?!
Stogie couldn't make out its face as it dug into the rats belly. But it looked almost human...much small and lankier than him. Barefoot and in raggedy clothes, this monster was--or used to be--a person.
Soon, the creature was finished with its meal. Its ears twitched, alerting itself to Stogie's presence. Slowly it turned as Stogie was shaking with fear...
"Oh my God..." Stogie muttered. eyes bulging out of his skull. The monster, it was...it was just a kid. A horribly burnt boy, blinded by some gruesome injury. His head was misshapen, his right eye a milky white, all of his skin hugging the bone.
Suddenly, he lunged, Stogie winced, anticipating the end,
But it did not come. The creature was jerked back by the chain around its neck, and he slid back against the wall. But that did not stop him from trying again and again, its claw-like nails swiping this way and that. Stogie backed up as far as he could, near pissing himself with fright.
Stogie was safe in the end. But the monster was still attracted to the luminous glow of Stogie's phone.
Instinctively, Stogie protested, "Hey, get away..." But the creature need only turn to shut Stogie up. Its attention returned to the phone he picked it up out of curiosity and began to poke and prod it, amazed that the strange object responded at all. The monster was awestruck. It had never seen anything like it.
Still wanting his phone, Stogie tried to reach for it, but the monster strongly disagreed, hissing, prompting Stogie to fall backwards on his rear and curl into to a ball. The monster slobbered over the device, tried to eat it, banged against the floor. If anything, the monster was distracted.
That didn't soothe Stogies nerves much, though, as he sat there, paralyzed with fear, knowing that if he made any slight movement to the monster's disliking, he'd meet a vicious death.
And suddenly...was that...a moaning sound? Like a ghost? Emanating from beneath the floorboards?
whoaaaaaaaaaaaaa...whoaaaaaaaaaaaaa...WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA...
Stogie wanted to believe he was imagining it...until the creature joined as well. "oooooooooWHOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAA...oooooooooooooWHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAA!" It howled along with the voices, as if it was the only thing that could calm it down. Outstretching its neck, it moaned and moaned, on and on...
Stogie had never been more terrified in his life.
***
The morning was heralded by Netta returning to the basement, opening the door to the pitch black confines a crack, "Sto-Ghee? Are you awake in there? I've brought you some grits! Even put an extra pat of butter on it, for strength."
-Netta
Stogie was a shaking ball in the corner, head burrowed into his knees.
"Sto-Ghee!" Netta gasped, drawing closer, "Good Lord!"
-Netta
Stogie looked up and, behold! A streak of white hair, borne out of a night's unforgettable fright!!!!!!!!! Stogie was a changed man!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***
"There, now," Netta tried in as measured a voice as she could, "You just eat your grits."
She wasn't sure how to broach the subject of his hair going all funny. Something told her that if she said the wrong thing, he'd start weeping.
-Netta
"T-thank you," Stogie whimpered, hands still shaking as he took the bowl. Nervously, he slurped the grits in one setting. Then, as if he were refreshed, he exhaled and wiped the residue from his lips. "Now...are you gonna tell me...what the hell is that?!" He pointed to the malformed creature cuddling his phone, seemingly (hopefully) asleep.
"Oh," Netta looked over toward the creature, frowning, "That there is Gregaro."
-Netta
Stogie blinked. "WHAT?!"
Netta looked visibly uncomfortable, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything about him last night, but you never know who's listening in this house, and the Lennoxes get sensitive. See, ain't a soul outside these walls knows a thing about their, er, firstborn."
Stogie widened his eyes, horrified. "That's their kid?! What the hell happened to him?! Why is he down here, locked up like h-he eats people?! Does he eat people?!"
"Oh, he only eats bread crusts and chicken, when I can get it to him. He's really mighty harmless, you know. Still, I only bring him such food as he can eat with his hands. He never had any learning for forks and such, and you can imagine why I wouldn't be giving him knives."
At Stogie's other questions, she sighed, "Well, no one really knows what happened to him, short of Mr. and Mrs. Lennox themselves, and they ain't talkin'. Mind you, I only know that I'm to feed him once a day and ask no questions. His name ain't really Gregaro either. It's just what I call him. From the sounds he makes, yanno. I don't think he ever had a name, as such, or if he did, they don't say it anymore. I'm not even sure young Timothy knows about him."
-Netta
Stogie shook his head in disbelief. Now, he knew nothing about this "Gilded Age", but were mutant kids hidden away from society a commonplace thing? And was locking away "impolite guests" with them just a typical occurrence?
"Mighty harmless," he repeated breathlessly. "Your bosses are screwed up, y'know that? This...this isn't normal. Locking me up with their secret mutant son f-for a gag. Because I played a song they didn't like. Not to mention having a secret mutant son to begin with!" He held up his hands apologetically. "I'm sorry. Just...had a long night. I'm a bit cranky, I guess."
Netta's mouth grew very tight, "Mr. Sto-Ghee, I hope you know you don't have to tell me anything about the Lennoxes. I'm not here spooning ya grits for my health! They're powerful people, and their way is the way in this town," she sighed, "Now, to your feet. You've quite a day set up for you."
-Netta
Stogie groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, what now?"
"Well, Sto-Ghee," Netta at least had the grace to sound apologetic, "You're going to the fair."
-Netta
"The fair? Again?" Then. remembering what Joseephus said to him last night, Stogie added, "Wait...the world's fair. He's taking me there...to show me off, oh I'm so sick of this shit!" He pounded the wall, frustrated. "How am I supposed to solve the stupid mystery of the stupid link in the chain of stupid La Morty if I keep getting dicked around?" Taking a deep breath, Stogie apologized. "Excuse my language."
"Sto-Ghee, I'm afraid I can't much excuse anything you say because I never understand it. Now come on, on your feet. It can't be so terrible, after all. There's funnel cake."
-Netta
Stogie muttered something along the lines of "yeah, yeah," and got to his feet. Suddenly, a curious thought came to his mind, that prompted him frantically ask Netta one last question.
"Wait. Before you go," nervously, he asked, "I could have sworn I heard moaning last night. From underneath the floorboards. I wasn't just hearing things...right?"
"Moaning," Netta furrowed her brow, "From..." she eyed the floor skeptically, "Oh, Sto-Ghee, you must've just heard the house settling. Pipes, you know. In the dark and damp, and with Gregaro right there, I'm not surprised you were scared out of your head."
-Netta
"Right..." Stogie wasn't convinced but he'd take it. With all the time travel and racism and feral children, his mind was probably a scrambled mess.
He bent down and tried to get his phone from Gregaro's grasp but one growl convinced him to back off. "God-fucking-dammit..."
And so Stogie went up the stairs, ready for another action-packed day in 1896.
***
The World's Fair. Twas a marvelous place. Very much like the county fair the night before. Only this time, with exhibits and such, portraying the inevitable future.
Walking onto the property with the Lennoxes, Stogie wasn't in the mood to revel in it, since he had zero sleep and was sweating up a storm in his sailor outfit. "Jesus Christ, I'm getting serious swamp ass with this outfit."
"Swampus?" Joseephus asked, his curiosity piquing, even if he misheard the newcomer. "Is this some ailment unique to your region?"
"Aw, fuck you, man!" Stogie cursed him, wiping away the sweat from his brow. "You lock me up in your basement with your..." Joseephus broke his usual jovial tone and shot Stogie a warning glare. "...pet ferret," Stogie quickly improvised before continuing, "And you want me to educate you about 'swamp ass'?"
Joseephus was back to his chuckling mood, as he whispered to Evangeline, "My, my! The Chinaman is a mite cranky today!"
Timothy, who was permitted to come to day events such as these as they were educational, unlike the raunchy fair last night (to think he would have seen the dunking of Old Man Jenkins!), intruded himself in the conversation. "Punish him again! Punish him again!" to which Joseephus only patted him on the head, as if to passive-aggressively tell him to settle down.
-Stogie, Joseephus, and Timothy
"Now, Timothy," Evangeline closed her fan in a swift motion, using it to swat her son lightly about the head, "Quell that bloodthirst of yours. It's hardly Christian," she craned her neck, "Ooh, that stall there has live pygmies!"
-Evangeline