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34
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"Thought you didn't smoke," A male voice, filled with a southern accent asked from the darkness.
Mort calmly threw away the match and did not move, realizing that what he had feared just moments ago was coming true. The man turned out to be a full-blown whack-job afterall.
"I took it up recently for my health," Mort replied, smugly.
"How are you, Mr. Corso?" John Shooter asked.
"Oh, I'm just... Peachy, Mr. Shooter. How are you?" Mort responded.
Shooter did not care to answer Mort's question, though. Instead, he changed the subject. "Well, It sounded like you pitched a fit or something in there," Shooter said. He bent down next to Mort. "I don't think you're really all that well. Stealing from another man, that don't seem to have ever bothered you none. Being caught up on, though," Shooter said.
They both stood up from the ground and faced eachother. "Or maybe it's just that rich bastards like you throw tantrums when things don't go the way they expect," Shooter said.
"How about I share some of my 'rich bastardness' with you. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Then, will you then kindly disappear?" Mort asked.
"I don't need yer money, Mr. Corso, if that's what yer tryin' to get at. I just want m'book back. The one you stole. You did steal it. You and me, we know that," Shooter said.
"Okay, then," Mort decided to humor the man. Maybe then he'd go away. And if not.. he could always use force...
Mort looked off to the side and saw a shovel lying on the grass. He slowly backed up towards it, so that he was standing in front of it. Shooter advanced as well.
"What can we do to make you feel better?" Mort asked.
Shooter moved around, and Mort backed away from the shovel. "I want you to fix it," Shooter said.
"What would you like me to fix?" Mort asked.
"My book. The one you stole. I can't decide what's worse. Stealing my book, or not using it properly," Shooter explained.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mort said, which was the truth.
"Oh, I'll bet you do. 'Eight doors come before the Serpent that guards the word, Teth, Enea, Novem, Oded, the number nine, which holds the final secret, the mystery of mysteries. The Serpent is the beast that always sleeps with one eye open and is reflected in the Mirror of Knowledge. Eight engravings plus one, or one plus eight, which coincides with the number that St. John of Patmos attributed to the Beast: 666.' The book is for opening the Ninth Gate and entering the Kingdom of Shadows. You're going to give it to me and I'm going to use it and that's it."
"I'd be more than happy to give you back your book, Mr. Shooter," Mort said, humoring the man.
Satisfied, a smile came over Shooter's face and he turned away. "Saw that wife of yours. She's purty," Shooter said, grinning to himself.
"My wife? Why don't we just leave her out of this?" Mort said, first angry that Shooter was admiring his wife.. or what had used to be his wife.. But then he became worried as to how he had seen her.
Shooter turned back to Mort. His tone suddenly became serious. "Would, if I could. But I'm starting to think you ain't going to leave me that option."
Mort had enough now. The man was really disturbing him. Upset, he grabbed the shovel from off the ground and attempted to hit Shooter with it. But Shooter was more powerful than he looked. "Grrrr!" He groaned as he grabbed the shovel with one hand and pinned Mort against a tree with it to his throat.
"You want to wake up from one of your stupid naps and find Amy nailed to your garbage bin? Or turn on the radio some morning and hear she came off second best in a match with a chainsaw you keep out in the shed?" Shooter asked, angrily.
Mort choked in reply.
Shooter released him and he fell to the ground, clutching his throat and gagging.
"Do ye?" Shooter demanded.
Mort choked once more.
"You can't get away with it," Shooter said, walking away down the parking lot. "I know what you did and I ain't quittin'. Until right gets put right. I will open the Ninth Gate."
Mort caught his breath finally on the ground and leaned backwards against a tree, shaken up.