Devil Entendre Read online

  Table of Contents

  Unmapped Approaches to Infinity

  False Witness

  The Invisible Girl

  Never Go Back

  The Curious Urologist

  The Hidden Beast

  Futui Vitium

  The Hiroshima Maidens

  Neovagina

  An Ideal Family Holiday

  Tap That Ass

  Leash Law

  Leather Bound

  Jagged Desire

  About the Author

  Reading & Resource Guide

  Devil

  Entendre

  John

  Edward

  LAWSON

  “False Witness” first published in Into the Darkness Vol. 1

  “The Invisible Girl” first published at Samsara Magazine

  “The Curious Urologist” first published in Ice Picks

  “The Hiroshima Maidens” first published in Cemetery Poets

  “An Ideal Family Holiday” first published in Scary! Holiday Tales to Make You Scream

  “Tap That Ass” first published in Of Flesh and Hunger

  “Leash Law” and “Leather Bound” first published in House of Pain

  “Jagged Desire” first published in Demonology

  Devil Entendre © 2014

  by John Edward Lawson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator.” This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Published by Raw Dog Screaming Press

  Cover illustration: Kostyantin Pankin, http://www.vipdesignphotos.com/ via Dreamstime.com

  Cover design: M. Garrow Bourke

  Book design: M. Garrow Bourke

  Printed in the United States of America

  RawDogScreaming.com

  Did you know you can read these books on all your devices and computers with the downloadable Kindle Reader App?

  Also by John Edward Lawson

  Novels

  New Mosque City

  Last Burn in Hell: Director’s Cut

  Collections

  Paramourn: Unfortunate Romances

  Truth in Ruins

  Lawson vs. LaValley (with Dustin LaValley)

  Discouraging at Best

  Pocket Full of Loose Razorblades

  Poetry

  Wholesome Terror: Lawfully Combative Verse

  SuiPsalms

  The Troublesome Amputee

  The Plague Factory

  The Horrible

  The Scars Are Complimentary

  Illustrated Books

  A Child’s Guide to Death

  (with LaValley, Malfi, and Sullivan)

  As Editor

  Tempting Disaster

  Sick

  Of Flesh and Hunger

  Contents

  Unmapped Approaches to Infinity 6

  False Witness 21

  The Invisible Girl 33

  Never Go Back 48

  The Curious Urologist 64

  The Hidden Beast 88

  Futui Vitium 93

  The Hiroshima Maidens 94

  Neovagina 98

  An Ideal Family Holiday 101

  Tap That Ass 111

  Leash Law 126

  Leather Bound 140

  Jagged Desire 148

  About the Author 197

  Unmapped Approaches to Infinity

  1

  “I fear you’ll end up like your mother, or worse,” Hauser said. When he uttered the words there was not a trace of concern, although grim satisfaction did radiate from his weathered features. “Cracked up on that last assignment when she was all bloated with you, and never showed her face here again.”

  Michael Blackman’s eyebrows knitted together as he stared at Hauser. Michael’s full exertion was required to prevent himself from damaging his career by blurting out something against his department head. He swallowed. At age 39 he still had time ahead of him, whereas Tuur Hauser was already pushing retirement age.

  Standing next to Michael, with her arm around his waist, Hei Ryung Noh worried that even in the public space of the National Natural History Museum’s ground floor her fiancé might lose his temper due to the fact that the incident occurred in front of her. Just as she moved to say something to defuse the situation Hauser departed.

  “If you feel so strongly,” he called over his shoulder, “prove yourself on this Maryland thing.”

  The couple stood and watched Hauser’s tweed blazer disappear into a sea of tourists clamoring for entry to the museum stores or the atrium cafe. Echoes and reverberations swelled around the high ceiling, giving one the impression of being in a cavern, not unlike many of the museum’s public spaces. Michael could not tell if the older man continually singled him out for his multiracial lineage, his relationship with a Korean American stunner like Hei Ryung, or due to some other devious grievance.

  Hei Ryung urged Michael to move on with her, and as they passed Rolland he pretended to have not witnessed the whole scene, instead working to impress a woman with his security uniform. Out on Constitution Avenue a cool gust greeted them, portending an unusually pleasant lunch break at the Old Post Office Pavilion down the street. The District of Columbia, while drained of bog water or no, was built on a swamp and the hot season was nothing if not a disaster of humidity and heat, with heat strokes frequently reported in the news. The current cool streak should have been alluring, but Michael couldn’t force himself to continue on.

  He had grown up immersed in history: arrow heads from Hoover Island in the Susquehanna River—named after his mother Linda’s ancestors—were in glass bricks accompanied by notes as to where and when they were discovered. The island itself had been taken over by the Federal government prior to his birth, reimagined by authorities as vital to bird migration patterns, now an avian resting point. Linda Hoover, like her son, had also worked in the anthropology department at the Smithsonian in the late 1960s and early ’70s. Her six months in Mexico training in the field were retold with frequency in Michael’s household, with pyramids of all size scattered near the rural village where she stayed, their steps so narrow one could only ascend facing sideways. The night before she left she yelled at a group of young men singing below her window, sending them away without realizing they had been serenading her. Her one trip to Acapulco she had quarreled with hotel management as there was no hot water in the shower, a feature they had not thought necessary due to the perpetual high temperatures.

  Despite these, and other equally charming stories, Michael had followed in his mother’s footsteps, training to be an archeologist with the Smithsonian Institution. And, like his mother, he met the person he intended to marry while working there. He looked up at the rear of the museum and couldn’t help contemplating all the long summer days spent during his youth wandering corridors while his father worked in the basement. The shrunken head display was long
gone, as were the cockroaches swarming over kitchen counters, all deemed too disturbing. There had been changes in his beloved cafeteria as well, not the least of which was the loss of the conveyor belt which erupted from the wall mysteriously laden with yummy sundries, only to disappear into the far side of the wall in a seamless and infinite loop. If the physical structure of the institution could change for the better, could he work to excise Hauser and redeem his mother’s name?

  Hei Ryung understood, offering to help in whatever way she could, and so it came to pass that she investigated the work Linda Hoover was immersed in at the time of her departure from the Smithsonian, while Michael left for what should be a simple day trip out to a curious find on Maryland’s western shore.

  2

  Roiling air currents rustled leaves and branches in a constant churn which simulated the sound of water rushing over rapids in river just out of sight, perhaps over the next hill or beyond the next cluster of houses. The aural illusion both amused and relaxed Michael as he tried to enjoy his meal, which consisted of wolfing down a Vegan protein bar with unsweetened grapefruit juice, and a quick call to his fiancé. “Site number 18CV6289 has its…idiosyncrasies,” he explained to Hei Ryung.

  “Ooh. Things are sounding more official all the time. Let me guess: there’s a Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act claim on cultural affiliation with artifacts found there.”

  If only that had been the case, he lamented. Although a NAGPRA entanglement was not out of the question, the problem was far more contemporary and Eurocentric. State historic preservation officer Gearey had been less than helpful thus far, and the circumstances under which the discovery had been made were suspect at best. He took his supper on the grounds of the Leiden estate, the proverbial big house up the hill looking out over the lower classes of Marshington, so named after the Marshes of New England who migrated south to settle these remote wetlands. A handful of old money families such as the Marshes and the Leidens had banded together at the onset of World War I, believing they were founding a metropolis of the future. The subject was something of an obsession for Michael, and many other anthropologists, since things had evolved so strangely in the city.

  One notable example of this peculiarity was the architecture of the initial public works and residences, overseen by Sinne Jagare, who would briefly serve as a mentor to artist M.C. Escher. The odd angles and illogical perspectives represented in the oldest of Marshington’s architecture was billed in brochures as “cartoonish” and “something out of a family-friendly blockbuster,” although in the flesh it was more akin to a nightmare realized. Attempts at restoration and expansion of the historic Leiden estate were hindered by the fact it was gradually sinking, leading to a cavern system beneath being pumped clear on orders of family and sealed off from surrounding wetlands. Marshington, aptly named, had the distinction of being, like Washington, DC, built on vast swamplands, only in Jagare’s case he was paid bonuses by the square footage of swamp left intact within city limits. This had not made the city attractive to investors over the years, but it did provide flora and fauna unparalleled by rival metropolitan areas worldwide. Somehow, though, the Leiden heirs had been granted an exemption by government and permitted to execute their drainage plan without consideration for potential environmental impact. Naturally, the caverns were explored for valuables before filling, and in the deepest area remains, apparently human, had been found.

  While listening the sound of Hei Ryung’s voice on the phone Michael’s mind drifted away, drawn to the uneven, angular rooftops and roadways scattered through the low-lying areas. The population had increased steadily over the last decade. The city’s recent resurgence in popularity was due to their tourism bureau marketing it as the “First Green City®”…which served well enough to fool those from out of state. A popular saying in the region was, “The marsh don’t come out in the wash.” Not only did it rely on a thick Maryland accent to rhyme marsh with wash, it—like so many other “folksy” sayings—required user interpretation to derive meaning. Most in the area took it to mean an imitation is doomed to never attain the original’s luster. Michael was part of a team sent to the lusterless city of Marshington, most of whom were well below the surface being bossed around by his sometimes-friend, always-coworker Cory McGowan.

  His attention came back to Hei Ryung. Discovering what Linda Hoover had been working on prior to maternity leave was proving difficult in its own right. Few still employed at the National Natural History Museum remembered Linda, but hers was one of the only projects from the early 1970s still being researched, providing a digital trail. All materials related to the project were offsite with a government contractor in West Virginia. The company was Ondska International, a place where she had interned one summer, so she was able to call in favors and gain access. She was on the MARC train to Martinsburg as they spoke.

  “Geez, Martinsburg? Really?”

  “Just be thankful I still have my security clearance.” It turned out Collateral Secret security clearance was required for her just to take a look at the project. This confused Michael, because he did not realize she had such clearance, and he was certain his mother had never achieved any level of security clearance herself, even before her nervous breakdown. “Well, I’ll say this much: it all has to do with the largest amber ever discovered, and it seems to have sort of electrical charge ability beyond that of regular amber.”

  “More than just sparks from static and whatnot, huh?”

  “Yeah. Apparently somebody back in the day thought it might be our answer to battery problems. Something about indefinite charge, as if there’s such a thing as indefinite anything.” Hei Ryung wished she had more to tell him, and promised to get in touch as soon as she knew anything more. She also made him promise to send pictures of whatever lurked below the old Leiden residence, even if it wasn’t of anthropological significance.

  Michael gave a wry chuckle. “Supposedly there’s some sort of preserved human remains down there that will rewrite history as we know it, or some such nonsense. Pretty sure ole Tuur Hauser slipped them a fifty just to say that.”

  Hei Ryung laughed. “Are you kidding me? That guy makes pennies scream, he holds them so tight.”

  Just then Michael’s two way radio sounded. McGowan was hailing Michael, telling him to get down to the site immediately. He excused himself from the conversation.

  “I love you,” she said.

  He felt self conscious with the other men working in such close proximity. “You too.”

  He stood, dusting crumbs from his pants. The wallpaper on his smart phone caught his eye as he moved to put it away. It was a picture taken of himself with his Mami Wata as he had come to call Hei Ryung during their trip to Cameroon the previous year. They had chosen Cameroon because just as Maryland exemplified most of the environmental features offered by the continental USA so, too, did Cameroon offer most of Africa’s physical characteristics, making it ideal for a couple traveling on a limited budget. He remembered all the colorful rooftops jammed into the city of Yaoundé, the royal palace of Chefferie de Foumban and the Sultan’s museum therein, and most importantly the breathtaking beauty of the Chutes d’Ekom, or more specifically the 240 foot drop making it the largest waterfall in the country. It was in the background of the wallpaper photo, or perhaps he and his fiancé where in the waterfall’s foreground—he could never be sure. No, the sight of Hei Ryung was far more stunning, which is why he had begun referring to her with the local water goddess’ name during their travels. He ran his finger over the photo, accidentally opening an app before finally putting his phone away.

  “All right,” he said to a few lingering contractors smoking cigarettes, testing equipment, and trading stories in the estate’s queer, nonlinear shadow. “Let’s see about getting you that overtime you wanted.”

  3

  With a casual glance it was obvious McGow
an had led several of the others down into the heart of the find. Michael got on the radio, frantically berating his friend for trampling around recklessly.

  “Never mind that,” McGowan replied, panic in his voice. “Just haul ass!”

  Aside from himself, McGowan, and preservation officer Gearey, there were a handful of interns on hand, along with the dozen contractors who had made the find. Michael surveyed the faces of the interns, shaking his head at the thought they were supposed to learn anything of use from this utterly unscientific outing. On hearing the description of the supposed remains he and McGowan had each attempted to suppress hopes of finding a new Track Rock Gap Archeological Zone—all they had were, supposedly, carefully mummified remains. But if these were Mayan mummies it would be the northernmost evidence of Itza Maya flight from Central American upheaval a thousand years ago. Even without pottery, or weaving, or paints or walls, so long as they could confirm these were mummies of Mayan descent they’d be sitting on a career gold mine. Or—could they dare to dream?—this discovery could lead to uncovering a previously unknown people. All of it was entirely unlikely, of course, and on ascending the hill up to the Leiden mansion they were already picking out which drinks they’d be drowning their sorrows in later.