Filaria Read Free Page B

the same cloth.”
    “Ratshit. Now where did you come from?”
    “You, sir, are a suspicious wreck, if I may say so. I am not armed. I do not wish any trouble. Did I not say I was a man of peace?”
    “No.”
    “Well I am.” Philip sighed. He put his hands in his pockets. “However, if we are to be dispensing with any civilities — going straight to the point, as it seems — then all I want from you is information.”
    “Like what?”
    “Did you pass anyone? In the direction you’ve just come? Twins, perhaps?”
    “Twins?”
    “Yes. Co-joined brothers? I’ve lost two friends.”
    “We didn’t see no one, sir,” Phister said, touching his grubby fingers to his forehead by way of greeting. “Name’s Phister, by the way. They call me Young Phister. Though I’m sixteen.”
    A hard kick on the shin — hidden from the stranger’s view behind the car’s console — made Phister quickly shut his mouth again.
    But too late: Philip had already turned his attentions to the passenger. “Young Phister,” he said, smile widening, those big white teeth so incongruous in an adult’s face, so captivating. “A plea sure. Seren dip ity to run into you, out here, in the middle of nowhere, as it were. Phister. Young Phister. A fine name. Hello, hello. Perhaps you could tell me the name of our surly friend here, at the wheel?”
    “None of your business,” McCreedy said. “And I ain’t your friend.”
    “ Please . As I’ve told you, I have no untoward intentions.” Philip regarded each in turn. “I’ve lost two associates, that’s all. I’m merely seeking two, uh, young actors . We were rehearsing, you see, for an upcoming performance of The Engineer , when there came a strange call. And a rumbling, as of a distant explosion. My vanished friends decided to investigate.”
    “What’s that mean?” Phister swung his legs away from McCreedy’s fumbling boot.
    “What?”
    “The engineer.”
    “The play, the man, or the prophet? Have you never heard of these?” White eyebrows went up.
    Phister, who had no eyebrows but could remember a few thick hairs once growing over each of his eye sockets, shook his head.
    “You poor souls. You truly are lost. When I mention the engineer, in this context, I refer to the three-act dramatic text. A classic. History. Words to live by, all in one.”
    “We don’t know anything about that sort of shit,” McCreedy said.
    “For shame, gentlemen.” Another step nearer. “It is in your very nature, as humans, to learn, to explore. To find out everything you can in the limited time we have been allotted. Seek out the truth !” This last word echoed up and down the infinite corridors. “The play, you see, deals — in a very picaresque fashion — with the engineer’s inauguration and subsequent rise to mythic heights. The engineer, friends, was our veritable creator! The last act hints at his agendas for resurrection and implies that he left behind much more than just our tattered world! Oh yes, there is subterfuge, and conflict. Quite a drama! The old story of good versus evil! You must attend.”
    Open-mouth stares.
    “Of course, I revise this work myself, as self-appointed custodian, and have my lads perform it, often, in various locales, both to keep the performance contemporary and to educate the squalid masses. (Such as, if I may say so, yourselves.) I’m somewhat of an authority.”
    For another long moment, neither Phister nor McCreedy spoke. They looked at each other. Then McCreedy coughed and said, “That may be, but it all sounds like a crock of shit to me. Good verses evil? I may not get around much, but I know dumb ideas when I hear them.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “There ain’t no good, just like that. Clear cut. Or no bad. Life ain’t that simple.”
    “Oh, you’re a philosopher now?” The look on Philip’s face was as if he had just sniffed a turd. “All right. Look. One who opposes the engineer in his grand plan shall henceforth be