Karma at a Glance

Prologue – Something's Amiss

         Weaving through the yellow light just across the bridge on I-55, Gary missed the black camaro heading east by inches.  Except for the loud whoosh, which was unable to be heard over the radio playing Layne Staley, there was no sign he had just nearly died.  The beef jerky was fabulous and his pack of menthol cigarrettes was freshly packed; Gary could find no reason to fret over his driving when the food, smokes, and music were all so good.

         The harsh vocals combined with the roaring wind to give Gary's ears a feeling of solitude.  The possibility of crashing into other cars would dampen the vehicular ecstasy.  Gary was on his way to the local 5-star golf course and resort (and casino) with his other paycheck.  The one his wife was unaware of.  Oh, sure, the check from Microcom had been deposited into the family bank account on Gary's lunch break the day he had gotten it; he could even remember the marvelous burrito he had treated himself to minutes after doing so.  Little expenses such as burritos and golf are acceptable for hard-working men.

         Gary, in his usual slighty drunk stupor, did not even notice when the signs started appearing on the horizon.  Bright pink and yellow, they were impossible to miss.  “CASINO – 5 MILES – THE SLOTS ARE NEVER COLD AT THE DIAMOND!”, they shouted out to weary travelers.

         The Diamond was so named for the massive diamond shown off in the casino's main lobby.  Supposedly, it was up for grabs to anyone who could hit the diamond jackpot on the slots.  The gig had been going for 13 years now and the casino had made an exuberant amount of money on the business brought in by such an attraction.  People would come to stare at the diamond, and then they would go lose 50 bucks, or maybe 100 bucks.  Or just maybe 300 bucks.

         Gary was not there to stare at the diamond or to waste money at the slots.  He was there for the dice.  He could never tell his wife that though, hell she already disbelieved the amount of golfing Gary said he did.  He had to get a second job for the habit, it was almost as bad as when he had gotten addicted to coke back in high school.  He could not explain it though, he had to throw the dice.  He had his routine, his way of doing it intelligently.  At least that is what he liked to tell himself.  He simply ignored the fact that he needed another job to make up for his gambling debt.

         He would take 100 dollars, but only when he could afford to do so.  One weekend he was going to go to the Saints game, but instead he took the money to the craps table.  There were other times, who knows how many of them Gary was actually able to afford.  On this night Gary had withdrawn $25,000 from his bank account and even had his check cashed. He was feeling lucky.

         It was just too bad he wasn't lucky enough to afford such a stupid blunder.

*

         “Goddamn!  That guy must have a fuckin' death wish, for sure.”

         “At least you'll be awake now, I felt you swerving.  You even woke me up when you hit those stupid bumps on the side of the road.”  Angela was not the type of girl to be happy upon waking.  Especially not upon waking up in a black camaro packed to capacity with boxes and trash.

         “Oh shut up, you are just pissed off that I woke you up.  Be happy you don't have to drive.”  Jeremy knew that Angela would never drive more than 20 miles anyway, she would rather sleep in the back until you got tired of not going anywhere.  She was just that much of a bitch.

*

         The room could have just as easily been called a crypt for all its skeletal ornamenting and mildewed books.  Not that the mildew had stopped Raul from absorbing all the information the dank smelling texts could offer.  The pages covered everything from how to bring back the dead to the methods behind persuasion, hypnosis, love bending, and soul searching.  Raul was not interested in matters of love, but necromancy had always been a particular interest of his.

         Necromancy was supposed to be impossible.  The church tells us that death sends our souls away to a land of prosperous equality achieved with no small amount of elitism.  Even his own experiences had taught him to forget the idea of black magic.  His family had perished in a house fire 48 years ago on Halloween of 1961.  He was only 14 at the time, but that was old enough to have the memory imprinted forever; having to identify his sister and his mother even though black char covered most of their skin. 

         He had tried to communicate with their spirits for several years thereafter.  Every Halloween.  He knew that the veil between the living and the dead were supposed to be thinnest!  Why did all the design-drawing and potion-making solve nothing!

         Everything pointed to them being dead.  Pointed to the fact that he would have just one life.  Impossible.  He would not give up on them; his mortality being simply a byproduct of his efforts.  A sort of heavenly reward here on earth for a godlike deed would not be unreasonable.  There.

         He had found a book several months ago.  At first it had appeared to be a simple book with instructions on basic potion brewing.  As he read on he discovered the book had more devious intentions than simple herbal concoctions.  One brew involved a mixture which could contaminate a glass of water with only a pinch.  The victim would soon find themselves gasping for air and dead within a minute.  Another explained how to mix a dream-inducing formula.  Upon sleeping, vivid dreams would attack like vultures on a dead lion.  Raul had found out on his own that taking too much of this would cause extremely adverse effects.  One night he found himself lost among his dreams, they had overlapped and become as lucid as the 60's.

         On he read, of course he continued, the information was paramount to his cause.  And what a mighty cause it was.  If he cured mortality, he could bring his family back.  Cancer would not matter.  Accidents would be easily forgiveable.  Oh so many things would improve.

         After he had absorbed all the trivial information, the book revealed to him something he would have never imagined.  A sort of reward for accomplishing its prior challenges and doling out death and dreams.  In the very back of the musty smelling text a series of runes was depicted surrounding the picture of a corpse.  At seven equidistant points surrounding the dead figure were symbols nothing short of intricate.

         Skimming the text, understanding crept up on Raul like a viper.  “Oh my.  This is how Maria and Sophia can come back.”  Raul did not speak often out of respect for the dead, but even he couldn't help expelling the shock just received.

         All this was weeks ago.

         Raul sat and continued to stare at the pile of bones in front of him.  What animals did they come from?  Were there human bones in the ominous stack of calcium?  How many stories were hidden within?  Such questions did not penetrate Raul's kevlar shielded conscious.  All that entered his mind were thoughts of what he would say to the girls when they approached through the pile of discarded body fragments.

         Something told him that a simple, “Hey, what's goin' on?” was not going to suffice this time.

*

         The thunder of an unwanted gun continued to echo through the valley like the cry of a dinosaur.  It was the shotgun this time.  Ken liked using the 12 gauge even less than he enjoyed going into town, but the wolves were everywhere these days.  Harming a wolf was unthinkable, but the health of his horses were at risk.  Ken could do anything for his horses, he could even shoot wolves.

         A different sort of thunder rolled down the hill forewarning of a devastating battle coming under the guise of a storm.  What kind of storm could be coming this time of year, Ken mused.

*

         Jeremy and Angela pulled into the parking lot.  The bank they were robbing was across the street, but Jeremy felt a trip to Wal-Mart was in order before they got started.

         “Just a few munchies and beers.  Why the hell wouldn't we relax after we get away?”  Jeremy's methodical ways made him very arrogant.  Not necessarily a bad trait in a lifetime criminal, but definitely not a good trait among other social beings.  “Plus I can smell luck in the air sweetie, trust me.”

         Several minutes later Jeremy reapproached the camaro with a few bags of chips, a pizza, a 12-pack, and a 5-pack.  “Now it's on.”, he chided as he tossed everything into the back and threw himself into the driver's seat.  He snapped his head toward Angela, he knew the intensity of his stare would heighten her senses and narrow her focus.  “You remember your part, right Ang?”

         “Of course, Jeremy.  You may not always like me, but we've been doing this for a while.  I think you can stop worrying about the fact that I'm blonde.”

         “Alright, but if you fuck up, I won't feel bad about bailin' on your ass.  There's no room for any lack of attention.”

         Jeremy turned off the ignition after parking behind the drive through lanes.  He would go through the side door while Angela would use the main entrance.  Once inside, she was supposed to throw a fit, ask for a manager, make a lot of noise; the whole deal.  He would silently approach a teller, armed and ready to prevent the calling of authority.  The intelligent woman (or gay guy if the two of them were unlucky, but those guys could still be easily manipulated in such circumstances) would simply hand over the money and curtsy.  There'd be no stopping a call to the police after evacuating, but at that point it would be off to Venice.

         With a deep breath, Jeremy pulled in a lungfull of the smoggy air.  Dense and grimey, characteristics which should never apply to air.  “Hopefully this goes right.”, he muttered to himself all the while being attacked by second thoughts wielding hammers and flails, eager to spill his organs onto the cracked pavement from the inside out.

*

         The morning made its greeting through a dense layer of fog and a frigid chill on the wind.  Licking his fingers and sticking them into the air Daron decided the gusts were headed north, and maybe a little bit east too.  Which meant that the storm, oh who was he kidding, he knew nothing of weather.  Other than that it was as cold as a goddamn frosty this morning.

         His days of hiding had taught him how to fend for himself.  In the wilderness squirrels and rabbits provided plenty of nourishment.  Life had not always been like this, eating squirrels along with wild berries for breakfast and rabbit over a log fire for dinner.  He had been headed for glory in college.  Star freshman quarterback at USC, headed straight for the pros after he won his heisman until his ex-girlfriend framed him for the murder of her stepfather.

         The police statement had read: “Another one bites the dust: Yet another star throws everything away”.  He still was not sure what happened, but he was watching Sportscenter one afternoon when the front door came crashing in.  He did not try to run and they had him in custody within the minute.  Knowing that something was amiss, he had to make a break for it. 

         Step by step he was being brought closer to the door.  Once outside, there would be no chance of escape.  Quick now.  Grabbing one of his golf clubs sitting behind the door, he pulled it out in such a way that the cuffs would not interfere and continued the fluid motion into a full spin which nearly beheaded the nearest cop.  A surprising amount of blood came gushing out of the man's nose and ears and he proceeded to convulse on the floor atop the expanding crimson mat. 

         Trying not to think about what he had done, the Calloway was already soaring toward the other figure.  They were no longer cops in his mind, simply figures.  He could not bare the pain of killing upstanding policeman, so they were just people in his way.  After all, if the quarterback pocket teaches you anything, it is that you aren't supposed to take the shit that other people want to hand you.

         After both cops were down and hidden, he made a quick call to the authorities and alerted them to the fact that two officers had been injured at 504 West Jimson Street.  And then he ran. 

         And eating squirrels, cuffs still locking his arms together, was where he found himself 9 days later.  Newspapers told him that he had been charged with the murder.  He didn't even see the article until 3 days afterward.  Until he found out what had happened, the world made no sense, then it made even less.  Why would Angela frame him for murder?  Why would she even murder Stephon in the first place? 

         Goddamnit.  Even if he could prove Stephon was not killed at his hands, he had still assaulted those two cops in escaping.  Who knew what condition they were in now.  He would not be surprised if the first officer he had hit was dead by now.

*

         Right.  Angela was inside the bank now.  Two people stood ahead of her.  He had been hoping the bank would be empty, maybe they should have considered that and gone on a Wednesday morning instead of this bright and sunny Saturday.  What idiots.

         Only a tall man stood ahead of Angela now.  Heinously tall, he had to lean all the way over to talk into the microphones.  As the giant began to tilt, the apprehension on Angela's face was apparent.  She wanted to do this no less than he himself, but like him, she also knew that there was too much money in this to pass up.

         It was Angela's turn now and as she approached the counter, Jeremy opened the door and pranced inside.  He could see she was making a quick job of things, the attendant (wearing the usual facade of formal wear and smelling of cheap body spray) was already visibly frustrated.  A manager was called for assistance and Jeremy knew that his time was now.

         “How are you doing today, ma'am?”  Jeremy's voice was full of friendliness and cheer.

         “Not too bad, how 'bout yourself, sir?”  The woman behind Jeremy's computer was much different than the robot helping Angela.  She would know what was best for her.

         “Pretty good, I just wanted to”, and with not a sound Jeremy struck.  He had the woman by the neck with one hand so quickly she could not even move.  Jeremy was quite strong and the woman's neck and chest already hurt from the pressure of being crushed into her work station.

         “What do you want, you filth?”, the woman sneered at him through a mouthfull of keys.

         “Just give me the money in your drawer and the safe behind you.  I know you have the keys to open it, I've been watching you for 3 days.  I don't need you to do any more than that and I don't need you to make a big deal out of this.  I'm not taking everything and you are insured, so don't get yourself hurt.  When I release the pressure keeping you restrained you will do as I say or you will die and one of these minions will do it instead.  Don't die so insignificantly, please listen to me.”

         She stopped squirming and Jeremy released her.  She bolted toward the safe and emptied the contents into a box on the floor.  She then turned and opened three drawers and simultaneously dumped everything from them into the same box.  Then, in one swift motion, she picked up the box, leapt over the counter, and shouted behind her, “Aren't you still comin' babe?”

         Shocked exasperation painted Jeremy's face.  Not only did she fail in alerting the authorities, but now there were two babes Jeremy had traveling with him.  Oh, and now a box of cash.  Life couldn't get much better.



Chapter 1 – The Necromancer's First Success

         To start the ritual the words must be spoken.  Raul knew the words by heart, nothing else had even entered into his mind these last few days.  He just wanted to make sure he was ready.  Of course he was ready, this moment had been coming for 48 years.

         “Keo hae haremai.  Zhea ma kun!”, with the final incantation, Raul's booming voice announced the coming of spirits.  Or was supposed to do so at least.

         The pile of bones vibrated with the intensity of a box fan and just as suddenly as they had come to life stillness overwhelmed their dreary existence.

         “Keo hae haremai!  Zhea ma kun!!”, the ferocity in his voice rising in the face of failure.  That minor convulsion had happened, he knew it had!  The spell must have had some effect other than sending slight shivers through these sallowed bones.  “KEO HAE HAREMAI!  ZHEA MA KUN!”, roared Raul with a growing sense of dread.

         The bones were laid right, the lines were drawn precisely, and the encantations had been perfect.  “Teu Isham Sasut.  Rashu ma ka leu.  Shanima maz korendo!  Burn you demons, what more is required of me?!”  Suddenly something perturbed Raul's peripherals.  Something was emerging from the bonepile.  A slow spinning vortex began to form above the pile, assisted by strings of black ooze twisting and coalescing into the darkness.  Were these the souls of Maria and Sophia?  He had not expected such an ominous meeting.