Read Online X's for Eyes by Laird Barron - Free Book Online

Rising and falling voices chanted Latin.
    Dr. Bole frightened Mac, awake or dreaming. He hadn’t decided why, except that sometimes when he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, she resembled someone else. She was pale, albeit not unhealthy any more than a daylight-shunning salamander is unhealthy; her brows were heavy, her features somewhat coarse, reflective of a tribe much nearer the common primordial bog, and her knuckles were large as a boxer’s. Thick of waist and thigh, her awkward gait and empty smile suggested an ageless, predatory creature, either torpid or exercising restraint as she moved among the herd. She smelled faintly of chlorine and saltwater.
    “Did Uncle Andronicus murder my brothers?” Mac said. He hadn’t considered the possibility in a long while and it snuck up and pounced upon him from the gloom of his subconscious.
    “Isn’t that a question for your father? Or Mr. Nail?”
    “Dad and Mr. Nail aren’t here.”
    “Curiosity skinned the cat and boiled it in pitch. Even if I revealed the truth, it would only place you in jeopardy. Further jeopardy, that is.”
    “Surely you’ve brothers or sisters.” Mac tried to make his eyes large and earnest.
    Dr. Bole’s frown softened. “My brother is dear to me. He chose to manifest masculine gender traits. I finally understand his motives. Male/female gender paradigms complement our relationship in surprising ways.”
    “Er, I’m happy for you?”
    “Andronicus hunted the twins like wild pigs. He ran the boys to ground and slaughtered them as one does if one is an unadulterated psychopath. He copulated with their corpses, field dressed them, and roasted their guts over a fire. Your uncle would render likewise unto you if afforded the opportunity.”
    “Does he hate us so much?” Mac said. “Could our own blood harbor such villainy?”
    She laughed incredulously and walked on.
    A brightly lighted operating theater occupied the far end of the gallery. Arthur Navarro sat naked in an iron chair, manacled hand and foot. He recognized Mac, Mac’s decrepitude notwithstanding dream logic.
    “Don’t let her do this to me,” the boy said. He flexed mightily against the chains and then collapsed with a groan.
    “I’m sorry—” Mac was stricken with renewed grief at the sight of his deceased friend.
    “Hush, Macbeth,” Dr. Bole said. “He has no memory of what happened in the barn. Arthur, that’s quite enough. You’re the culmination of an eons-old breeding program.” Dr. Bole cupped Arthur’s chin in her splayed fingers. “Head high, son. Function over form. Now, be a good lad and fulfill your function in service to your betters. What are your plans once we’ve restored you completely?”
    Arthur said, “I’m forsaking engineering for chemistry. My father will cry a river. He prefers the brute applications of scientific inquiry.”
    Big Black said through a speaker, The Pole of Cold is reorienting. I await.
    Arthur’s flesh blistered and melted. “This is false, Mac! This is false! Save me! Come into the dark! Cross the threshold!” He began to scream.
    The Dreamtime program ended. Dr. Bole, Arthur Navarro, and the entire vault dissipated. The Latin chant severed, mid-utterance. Mac came awake violently. He was alone in the tent as morning light illuminated the screen. After taking a few moments to compose himself, he dressed and went outside. His program had run long—workers were already done with breakfast and hard at morning duties. Three teams of Malamutes receded to tiny silhouettes against the southwestern rim of the glacier—the drill crew headed to the excavation site.
    “There you are, lazybones,” Nestor said. The older man wore a wolverine fur hat, fur-lined aviator jacket, wool pants, a .45 revolver, a Bowie Knife, and mukluks. He tossed Mac a greasy parcel of butcher paper. “Figured you’d need a sandwich. That camp cook of yours, Elkhart—?”
    It took Mac a moment to collect his wits and put on a genial