Apex Book Company

It was getting harder and harder to find anyone that remembered pool, much less how to play. The old ways were getting few and far between. Lufberry was down to his last usable set of balls and his cue had certainly seen better days.

Heck, Lufberry hadn’t seen a baseball going on ten years now. Football? Forget it. Sports had become pretty pointless once the earth was scorched beyond recognition. Lufberry was only three years old when The Event happened, so all he knew about it was what his parents had told him or what’d he picked up on the transports over the years. He did remember the discovery of EH. EH was short for Easy Heat, seeing as the planet’s surface temp could pop corn in as little as thirty seconds or an egg in as little as a minute. Couldn’t complain though, it sure beat the sway of the transports and having some solid ground under your feet after years on the ships. You thought out your moves if you ventured outside, anything more than four minutes and the Things came out looking for you.

In this new existence, unless you possessed a skill to trade with, one was pretty much at the lowest level. The strong quickly established their place in the new existence. Not the rich, the well off, or the meek, it was the strong that inherited the earth during the following months after The Event. Lufberry’s father had been a drifter before The Event, so he didn’t have to adjust as readily as some others. In fact, his drifter ways seemed to be a match made and something he’d passed onto his son like an old coat or a bad cold, depending on how one looked at it.

You name it and he most likely hustled it during the old days. After The Event, Lufberry senior quickly discovered that people were starved for the old ways, the way things used to be. Books were major bartering tools. He’d braved the Things in the dark down on the surface to ransack houses for books. Lufberry senior has left Lufberry junior fairly well off. However, surviving in this new existence was like swimming, you quit treading water and you drowned. After all the horror of the past few years, Lufberry was surprised that horror books were hot commodities.

What Lufberry loved more than scavenging was hustling. His tool of choice in this endeavor was pool. What made it even easier was that the majority of his marks were born after The Event or just prior and had no idea how to play and hadn’t had a dad for a pool shark. Sure, he’d run across a few of the old guard that still knew how to play. He steered clear of those transports, but occasionally he’d rustle up a game to keep himself sharp.

He produced his holographic bracelet and beamed his ID as he entered the airlock. The Official gave it a cursory glance. Hidden behind the ID, hovering innocently unless one knew where to look for it, was what interested him. The location of a certain locker that contained a mint copy of Elmore Leonard’s 52 Pickup. The Official brought his hand to his implant and said, “Locker 57, Underwood Station.” Lufberry busied himself with his fingernails as he waited for the Official to verify the contents of the locker. A few moments later, the Official nodded to himself and pressed a button. The air lock hissed and Lufberry stepped into a world he’d never known, but had seen only in pictures.

The cold, steel walls of the transport were hidden behind a paneling of deep red cherry. On the cherry walls, pictures from before The Event depicted vibrant scenes from New York to San Francisco skylines. A thick pall of smoke hung about the bar causing the people moving about to resemble ships passing in a fog. Since the new Sin laws were enacted six months ago, places like this were now considered unsavory. The Committee for Good and Righteous Development would find this haven eventually, but for now it was one of the last places in the fleet to grab a real beer, not that synthetic stuff, and smoke a real cigarette.

Lufberry’s hair stirred as the filtration system came online to scrub the air. Across the way, he could see the three pool tables. Two of them sat empty, devoid of balls, but at the third one a lanky kid stood surveying the table. A cigarette jutted from his lower lip and caused him to squint as the smoke swirled around his face. On the table, a game of nine ball was halfway through completion. A few patrons looked up and noticed him. They nodded and started to stir as he walked across the bar towards them. He stood in front of the first table and pulled a black, satin sack from his coat. Inside, the balls clacked together noisily. The kid didn’t even look up at the new arrival; instead he nodded to himself and quickly and expertly shot the six ball into the corner pocket with authority.

Lufberry sucked in a breath. The shot was amazing. The kid obviously knew what he was doing. Briefly, Lufberry considered leaving, that is, until he saw what the kid was playing with. The balls sparkled on the table as they rolled to and fro. They were made out of some kind of stone, possibly ruby or jade. The way they reflected the light as they rolled mesmerized Lufberry along with the rest of the people surrounding the table.

As the cue ball rolled across the tattered felt, a face loomed upward and screamed a soundless cry. Lufberry closed his eyes and held his breath. The face had been his father’s. He shoved the feeling aside and reopened his eyes. The balls were normal ones, not made out of any type of stones or jewels. Just ordinary pool balls. What the hell? When Lufberry looked at the men watching the kid clean the table, they still had the sleepy expressions he’d seen earlier.

“I’ll play ya,” the kid grunted as he lined up a shot.

“You, uh, talking, to me?” Lufberry managed to mumble. Everyone, but the kid, glanced in his direction.

A brief, expectant silence followed. The kid stood up and stared at Lufberry. “Who else has a cue in here, huh, pops?” he smiled. His teeth elongated and his jaw unhinged like a snake. Beneath the terrifying visage, the kid’s face shimmered like a mirage. What the hell? Lufberry shook his head and glanced away. His implant must be on the fritz, he reasoned. Oh well, it served him right for buying one off the black market instead of from the Committee.

“Name’s Garth Deon. Yours?” He glanced at his watch and looked towards the entryway of the bar. This wasn’t the first time he’d done that, Lufberry noted, as if he was waiting on someone.

Mouth gaped open like a dope, Lufberry finally responded. “Um, I’m Luf-Lufberry.”

The rest of the men exchanged smirks, interpreting his behavior as hesitation to take on the kid. Money appeared and changed hands. Lufberry surveyed the scene. He’d hustled some of these men in the past. No doubt they were eager to see him get his ass handed to him.

“Fine,” he said. “What are we playing, Garth?”

“One set, race to five; alternate breaks and no time limit on shots; foul on all balls, one time out per rack.”

Lufberry nodded. It’d been years since he’d heard someone talk about pool with any type of familiarity. “One game sudden death tie-breaker?” he added.

“Fine…let’s make it interesting,” Deon drawled. He placed his cue on the table and drained a beer. His eyes flashed in the light as he flung his head back. Something about his actions struck Lufberry as reptilian. Slightly unsettled, Lufberry reached up and pressed his right ear. With a whir only he could hear the implant powered down. The world before him took on a dull hue. The colors became flat, less vibrant and vivid. It had been a long time since he’d not seen the world without the implant’s enhancing powers. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to see in non-HD.

Garth motioned for Lufberry to break and he leaned in to set up his shot. Garth stretched out his cue and gently rested it on Lufberry’s cue. “Let’s make it more of a challenge, how bout it, what ya say?” he said with a grin.

“What do you have in mind?” Lufberry asked. He remained poised to take his shot.

“Let’s play for Shi’s.”

“Shi’s?” Lufberry stumbled over the strange word. He tapped his left ear and quickly accessed an online dictionary. He came up short.

The kid smiled and pointed to the table. “Those,” he said. When Lufberry still didn’t get it, the kid picked up one of the balls. It glistened in his hand.

Lufberry glanced at the crowd to see if they were seeing the same thing he was. The all wore the same stupid look. It’s like they’ve been lobotomized, he mused. He caught himself examining the ball. As Garth played it back and forth between his hands Lufberry felt a pleasant feeling engulf his being. It felt like the stuff they’d given him as a child to control the seizures. Deon grinned as he caught Lufberry’s full attention.

The ball transformed to a sparkling jewel and a dull glow emanated from its core. A substance within appeared to swirl, like clouds on a windy day. Another face materialized this one with a screaming maw overrun with sharp teeth. He stumbled backwards and gasped. Was that his mother? The other balls on the table started to vibrate. They rolled towards the one Garth held in his hand, and as he held the ball suspended above the table the others circled it like a group of frenzied children.

The kid smiled and said, “Try this on for size, partner. We’re playing for your Neshama, your Shi…your Soul. Ain’t that groovy, baby? That make you wanna trip, honey?”

“You’re insane,” Lufberry muttered. He snatched up his cue and started to walk away.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty,” Garth called out. The tone of his voice gave Lufberry pause. He turned around. Garth extended a finger and wagged it back and forth. “You’ve already started playing.” He glanced down at his watch again. He seemed to catch himself and he grimaced.

Lufberry found enough bravery to fling a challenging retort, “So? What happens if I walk out that door right now? You gonna strike me down or something?”

Garth seemed to consider this. His brow furrowed as he tapped out another cigarette from his crumpled pack. Lufberry licked his lips as he noticed they were Malboros. Goddamn, he hadn’t seen one of those, much less half a pack, in years.

Deon shook out a cigarette and offered it. “Maybe, but that’s too much work. I’d rather have a friendly game and be on my way. Besides, you really think I’m serious about wanting your soul? I was just joshing ya,” he laughed as Lufberry took the smoke.

“Seriously?”

“What do you think?”

“I’m not sure, I mean—,” Lufberry caught himself. He’d nearly blurted out the strange things he’d been seeing since he’d arrived, then thought better of it.

“Yes?” Deon urged.

“Nothing,” Lufberry waved a hand dismissively as he inhaled the sweet cigarette smoke. He noticed the crowd surrounding them, still fixated on the balls on the pool table. That uneasy feeling came over him again.

Garth glanced at his watch again. He pointed to the table, “We gonna do this or what? You win, you get my soul; I win, I get yours…”

Why the hell not…Garth was obviously a wacko, what was the harm? Lufberry leaned in and sent the tip of his cue crashing into the cue ball. He groaned as he scratched. Garth nodded and started lining up his shots. He squinted, hemmed and hawed, and quickly cleaned the table. One game down, four to go.

The second game was no contest. Deon didn’t even get a chance. From the break to the final ball, Lufberry showed him how it was done. The third game was close, but Lufberry took that one as well when Garth missed his last shot.

Lufberry was actually sweating. It’d been a long time since he actually had to exert all his skills. Garth Deon was not only good; he was uncommonly good. It was uncanny some of the shots he’d managed. “What are you, the devil?” Lufberry joked nervously.

Garth looked at him and grinned. He fired off a shot without even looking. He maintained eye contact with Lufberry throughout the entire motion. “You never know,” he replied, his voice sly. He won the round.

When Lufberry looked up next, the crowd around them had swelled in size. He was a bit startled that he’d been so engrossed in the game that he hadn’t noticed the newcomers. Each shot Garth made was like crack to the crowd. They groaned when he missed and moaned when he didn’t. Lufberry looked away in embarrassment when he noticed a few of the men in the crowd were fondling themselves.

“Last game,” Garth said, intruding on his thoughts. “I’ll be nice and let you break. It is your soul after all.” He laughed and smacked Lufberry on the back.

Each shot was agony. One by one, the balls disappeared into their intended pockets. There were only nine left to shoot, but Lufberry felt like he’d shot a hundred. A few minutes later, he was down to the last two. They glistened, as though beckoning him. Concentrate, it is your soul after all, the kid’s voice echoed in his head. He stood up from surveying the field and glanced at Garth. The kid grinned as if he could read Lufberry’s mind. He pulled back his cue and cleared his mind. Just him and the table; nothing else mattered. The room was thick with silence. Not a soul breathed. He sent the cue sliding through his fingers, hitting the ball exactly where he intended. It was a perfect shot. The ball shot across the table, on a perfect trajectory to enter the pocket.

It caught the edge of the pocket and rimmed away.

Fuck!” Lufberry screamed.

Garth clicked his tongue. “Too bad, too bad,” he intoned. He leaned over and shot the ball into the corner pocket with ease.

“You know? Detaching one’s soul is a rather painful process,” Garth said as he circled the table, chalking the end of his cue.

Lufberry scanned the room for a friendly face. The crowd had shrunk to three men, each of whom leered at Lufberry, hanging on every word Garth uttered. “It’s only a game,” Lufberry said more for his benefit than anyone else’s.

“You really believe that?” the kid countered.

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound too confident. Might wanna work on that…”

Garth shot the cue forward and sent the last ball careening across the table. It missed the pocket completely.

Lufberry unleashed a gust of air and shot his hands in the air in victory. “I won! I won!” he said through relieved laughter.

Garth Deon looked at the table and his shoulders sagged with disappointment. He sighed and stuck out a hand, “Fair and square pear, easy peaty. To put it another way, you won, pops!”

A commotion broke out at the entryway. The Official shouted something before he was tossed face-first through the doorway, crashing into a mirror behind the bar. A huge man, easily seven foot tall if not to the inch, walked into the room. His massive shoulders reached as wide as the door frame and his tree-trunk arms were as big as Lufberry’s waist. Patrons scattered like frightened roaches exposed to daylight. In his hands, the man clutched a chain. The links were as big as dinner plates. The whole chain must’ve weighed near a hundred pounds.

The man’s head swiveled their direction and he stalked over to the pool table with a purpose. He grabbed Garth by the neck and lifted him into the air pinning him against the wall. The kid’s heels tap-danced against the wood as he trembled with fear.

“I’ve come for you,” the man said. His voice boomed like thunder. A burst of white flashed beneath the man’s trench coat and something fluttered to the floor. It took Lufberry a few seconds to grasp what he was seeing.

A feather.

“You’re too late,” Garth choked.

“Of what do you speak?”

“It’s not me you want, it’s him,” the kid said and pointed at Lufberry.

The man flung Garth aside and stalked towards Lufberry. Lufberry whimpered and turned to run but the big man caught him by the collar and lifted him towards the ceiling. He leaned in and sniffed at Lufberry. The big man’s breath stank of smoke and something else. Sulfur?

“You’re the one,” the man said. It was a statement, not a question.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lufberry screamed. “I’m a nobody. I don’t know what you want!”

Garth got to his feet and rubbed his collar. He shook a fresh cigarette from his pack and lit it. He exhaled and sighed. “What you said earlier? You were right. You gotta pay the devil’s due, pops. You won my soul fair and square. This here fine gentleman is Michael. He was coming after me, but I managed to find a loophole…”

“You’re just a kid,” Lufberry stammered. Garth ambled forward and pulled a card from his shirt pocket. It was black with blood red lettering splashed across the front. Garth Deon was on the front and just below that, a counter stood at zero. There were spots designated as years and days, and beneath the Day-Glo numbers were small windows showing hours, minutes and seconds. “I’ve held onto this card for a long time,” Garth said with a sigh. He tapped it with a fingernail and handed it back to Lufberry. The counters had reset to one thousand years. The letters that formed Garth Deon abruptly bleed across the card and reformed into The Dragon.

Lufberry screamed as the air stirred around them. A gaping hole formed at his feet and Michael said, “A thousand years, the debt is now yours…”

The kid giggled and waved, “A thousand years, baby! Today, Lufberry, you won it all.”

---

R. Thomas Riley’s story “Only Spirits Cry” appears in the Apex Publications anthology Gratia Placenti. Order your copy today.