Demon Exorcism Volunteers for Interplanar Law: I - The DEVIL You Know

The next thing he knew, he was in a room lined with cold tiles. Most of them were an ugly shade of blue, but some that had presumably cracked or chipped had been replaced with whatever color tile was on hand at the time.

The tiles on the floor felt cold against his legs, and the cold air of the room sent goosebumps down his skin. That's when he realized that he was without any sort of clothing at all. He wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled his legs closer to his body. He looked around the room. It looked like the bathroom at a truck stop. There were rows of toilet stalls, most with missing or damaged doors, and a few urinals. There were some shower nozzles sticking out of the wall in a room off to the side, and two bodies lying on the floor near him.

Maybe they weren't bodies. Both were limp black suits, at least. The first contained the smoldering skeleton of something, and it hurt Kenichi's eyes to look too long at it. The second was full of produce: carrots, cabbage, potatoes, cucumbers, and a small rabbit with small buds of antlers poking from its head, was currently picking at the cabbage.

He pushed himself to his feet and turned completely around to see the full room. That's when he saw two figures standing behind him. One was a large robot, one unlike any he had seen before, dressed like a Catholic priest. The other was a woman, a very familiar woman with brown hair, green eyes, and distinctly blue gem earrings dangling from her earlobes. She wore a suit with a frilly blouse and a skirt that went to her knees. A thin, black lavallière sat around her neck.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand. “Names here have power,” she said. She pointed to the robot. “This is Scrivener. You may call me Noodles.”

The robot spoke. “What shall we call you?”

Kenichi looked from one to the other. “Um,” he said. “Hero?” he tried.

The robot shook his head. “That one is already taken.”

Kenichi frowned. “How about Seltzer, then?” he said, defeated.

The robot nodded. “That'll do.” He looked Kenichi up and down with his eyes. It made Kenichi even more aware of his lack of clothes. He used his hands to cover himself up.

Scrivener looked at Noodles. “I think he'll fit LaPlace's suit,” he said.

Noodles nodded. “I don't think Pascal's will ever come off whatever that is.” Finally she pointed to the one full of vegetables. “Put that one on, please,” she said.

Kenichi walked over to the pile of clothes. The rabbit stopped nibbling and looked up at him. Kenichi picked up the suit and carefully shook out the produce. Turnips and parsnips fell to the cool tile, and the antlered rabbit, after throwing its head back in excitement, pounced on them and started eating them. Everything was there. Kenichi held the suit before him, between himself and the others, and made his way to one of the stalls. He opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door. The door fell off with a bang to the floor. The rabbit hopped and dashed away, hiding behind Noodle's leg.

Kenichi gritted his teeth, then struggled to get the clothes on. He stepped in front of the mirror to finish with the tie, then, after checking that everything was buttoned and zipped, he stepped up to the others. “How do I look?” he asked.

“LaPlace wore it better,” said Scrivener.

Noodles picked up the rabbit. “Let's get back to the car before Everyday gets into trouble,” she said. The robot nodded.

Kenichi went to the door, but Noodles stopped him. “Don't forget your guitar,” she said, her back to him.

Kenichi looked back. His guitar, Drowsysword, lay just beyond the remains of what he presumed were Pascal. The guitar sat in a slim black hard case. He picked it up by the handle. It gave him the familiar heft of the guitar he had carried several lifetimes ago, the true Drowsysword. It comforted him in this otherwise discomfiting place.

Satisfied, Noodles and Scrivener left the bathroom. Kenichi followed after them. Once he was through, Noodles locked the door before placing the key back into her inner pocket. Kenichi winced when he stepped into the light. The sun above was bright and hot compared to the cool darkness he had first seen when he had entered this world. The landscape around was desolate, like they were in the middle of the desert. A faded sign said JACKRABBIT DIESEL DEN, the last letter dangling for its life.

The three stepped into the sunlight. Aside from some rusted out cars, some of which had skeletons in them, there sat a 1977 VW Golf Mk1 4-door. One of the back windows was open, and a pair of cowboy boots stuck out through it.

Scrivener walked over to the driver's side and opened the door. He climbed inside. Noodles opened the door with the boots in the window, and Kenichi heard someone from inside swear. Noodles looked at Kenichi. “Meet Everyday,” she said, nodding to the door.

Kenichi stepped up to the door. Recently awakened from her nap was a woman with skin the color of alabaster. Her hair, tucked mostly under a pork pie hat, was practically white, and thick mirrored cop shades covered her eyes. She wore a pinstripe suit and a bolo tie, and black cowboy boots covered her feet. On the seat beside her was a half-eaten back of chips.

“Did you leave the car?” Noodles asked.

“No,” Everyday said.

“Where did you get those chips?” Noodles asked.

“I brought them with me.”

“Why is the door to the convenience store open?” she said, pointing to the glass door swinging gently in the wind.

Everyday shrugged.

Noodles rolled her eyes. She handed Everyday the rabbit. “Here,” she said.

“What's this?” Everyday said, holding the rabbit.

“LaPlace,” Noodles said.

Everyday laughed. “I bet he didn't see that coming,” she said. She set the little rabbit on the seat next to her. It started munching on some of the chips there.

“Make room for our newest recruit,” Noodles said. Everyday looked from her to Kenichi. “Seltzer,” Noodles added. Kenichi smiled, nodded. He started sliding his guitar into the seat, but it wouldn't fit nicely, so Scrivener popped the trunk. He put it in there, next to some other instruments: a tambourine, a ukulele, an accordion, a harmonica, and a violin case. Once that was there, he slid into the back seat next to Everyday and the rabbit.

“How about Pascal?” asked Everyday.

Noodles shook her head.

“I should have taken him up on that wager,” Everyday said, pouting. She plucked a chip from the rabbit and started eating it.

“Those chips must be expired by years,” Scrivener said, looking in the rear-view mirror.

“They're fine,” said Everyday. She picked up the rabbit and started petting it between the horns.

Scrivener started the car. He navigated the car out from the lot and headed out onto the highway.

“You weren't supposed to leave the car,” Noodles said, her eyebrows furrowed. “You never know what else is out there.”

Though the glasses occluded her eyes, Kenichi was pretty sure that she was rolling them. “I can take care of myself,” she said.

Noodles turned to look at Kenichi. “You must be hungry after your travels,” she said.

Kenichi nodded. That was definitely one constant about dying and coming to another world. It always seemed to make him hungry.

Noodles turned forward and leaned over to get something from the floor near her feet. Kenichi saw that she had a tattoo on her neck. It looked like a sword, and on either side of the sword were two shields. After a moment, she popped back up, holding a Cup Noodles and a bottle of San Pellegrino. “We're out of still water,” she said. “Will mineral water do?”

“Sure,” Kenichi said.

Everyday elbowed him. “If you don't want that, you can have some of my chips,” she said. She indicated the chips scattered all over the seat between them with a little antlered rabbit flopped down in the midst of it.

“Thanks,” Kenichi said, but what with the rabbit, its hair and other additions to the environment, and the small circles of colors that didn't look like they belonged on chips, Kenichi was pretty sure he wouldn't be taking her up on that offer.

“Seltzer for Seltzer,” Scrivener said. He took the bottle from Noodles and drank the entire thing in one gulp. Then he looked into the rear view mirror. “Do you know how to make holy water?” he said to Kenichi.

“How,” Kenichi said.

Everyday sighed and slumped back in her seat.

“You boil the hell out of it,” the robot priest said, laughing at his own joke. Then, as steam started pouring from his mouth, Noodles held the Cup Noodles out under his chin, and the robot spewed steaming water into the polystyrene cup.

“It'll be ready in a few minutes,” Noodles said.

Scrivener wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“So,” said Kenichi, “what are we doing?” He looked out through the window as they sped on down an empty highway in the middle of nowhere. The sun was starting to set.

“We're doing a name collection,” Noodles said. “We summoned you because Mr. Katz said we needed at least two top grade musicians.”

Kenichi looked from Noodles to Everyday to Scrivener, and even to the rabbit. “Who's the other top grade musician?” he asked.

Noodles frowned. “It's me,” she said.

Kenichi leaned forward. “Oh. I didn't know you played,” he said.

“Why would you?” she said. “You only just got here.”

Kenichi contemplated telling her about the other Marumis in the other worlds, but wondered if that would cross some line that wasn't entirely clear to him, like the names having power.

She handed him the Cup Noodles and a plastic fork. “Here,” she said.

He took it and peeled back the lid the rest of the way. A cloud of steam popped out. The rabbit's nose went up and down, sniffing the air.

It was a curry flavor, and though the bubbles had all been boiled out of the mineral water, it added a new, complex flavor to the mix. He enjoyed it silently as the stars started poking through the veil of the night sky. A cracked moon hung there, reflecting light down onto them. In the distance, the horizon glowed, but not from the sunset.

Everyday ate a handful of chips. “The desert is so radioactive it glows at night,” she said through a mouthful of food. “I heard there's a part of it that's a sea of glass, where one of the nukes hit. And let's not even get started on the mutations to the local flora and fauna.” She scratched the rabbit between the antlers.

“Everyday,” said Noodles in a warning tone.

“I talk too much,” Everyday said. She pulled her hat down over her face and leaned against the door to sleep. She kicked her boots onto Kenichi's lap, and the rabbit hopped onto her legs and nestled on her lap.

Noodles looked back. “If you're tired, you can get some rest as well. We'll be driving for several hours.”

“Can you tell me more about this place?” Kenichi asked.

“The less you know, the better.”

“Where are we going?” Kenichi asked. He didn't recognize anything, even accounting for the fact that whatever it was they were driving past resembled a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

“Georgia,” Scrivener said.

“The country or the state?” Kenichi asked.

“The less you know, the better,” Noodles repeated.

Kenichi placed the empty Cup Noodles down at his feet. Everyday kicked him when he did this. He took this time to look out the window and watch the rusted out cars whiz past, the broken buildings, the dying forests, the glowing sands.

Whenever he'd bring something up to talk, though, Noodles would give a vague answer, shutting down any conversation before it happened. Kenichi contented himself to quiet reflection, when Everyday wasn't kicking him.