After sprinting a couple hundred yards after Duffy Ferris, with his wounds seeping and broken ribs grating together, Lament dove and tackled him in some laurels. They rolled through a patch of wet scrub oak and came up together knee-deep in mire, facing one another in the night that had brightened with star shine.
Duffy held out a cutting blade and said,"I'm'a gonna skin you like a gator."
"You're gonna take the beatin' of your life, is what you're about to do."
"I reckon I'll bleed you some first, boy."
"You'll bleed, all right."
Duffy Ferris had wrestled gators, killed them, and stripped their heavy skins away. His muscles bulged and he was fast as a striking cottonmouth. He stabbed forward with the knife fully expecting to feel it sliding through flesh.
But there was only empty space. He didn't anticipate Lament being so quick on his feet. Duffy tried again, slashing now and hoping to open up Lament's belly, watch him seep and try to hold his goods in with his hands.
But again, Lament moved too swiftly for him, and Duffy overextended himself and lost his footing.
He slid in the muck and felt a subtle pressure on his wrist just before hearing a loud snap like a rotted branch breaking. He turned, watched a bright piece of metal fly by, and only hazily noted that it was Mrs. Hoopkins's knife. It landed with a splash in the swamp water while he wondered how the hell he'd dropped it.
Lament stood before him, arms crossed against his chest. Duffy went to throw a fist but an oddly shaped child's arm moved before his eyes. A regular limb bent about halfway in the middle, with the fingers gnarled and wriggling about a bit.
The pain hit a moment later and he realized it was his own arm, busted near in two.
Duffy screamed and howled and thrashed about in the mud. Lament bent to him and said, "We're on gator ground, son, you might want to curb your convulsin' a touch."
Drawing his busted limb as close to his belly as he could, and holding it there tenderly with his other hand, already going into shock, Duffy quietly, almost with a friendly air, said, "Please, don't kill me, John."
Lament said, "Duffy Ferris, I stood over you and your brother on many a night while you snored in your moonshine drunks. I watched you sleep while I slapped an ax-handle in my hand, prepared to cave in your skulls. Many a night it was over the years. The world woulda been a better place, all right. But the Lord let me know it wasn't the right path. I don't aim to understand why He let you go on as long as you did, causin' the evil that you have, murderin' and begettin' your other atrocities, but I held true to my faith even when I wanted to scream. I did my best to see that you had your role to play for the greater good. You hear me, son?"
"I hear ya. But what's all this talk for?" Duffy almost started to grin, but thought better of it. "The Lord God Hisself done already told you to let me be."
"Whatever it was you needed to do, you already done it, 'cause the Almighty… well… let's just say He ain't so worried about your well-bein' no more."
"But you cain't just kill me!" Duffy cried.
Lament told him, "You deserve it more than anyone I ever met, more so even than Jester. Blessed by God with them fine features and you never done a lick of good in the -world."
"Gimme a chance to redeem myself, preacher!"
"I'm not a preacher," Lament said, "and I don't kill. But you got a call to make amends. Like I said, we on gator ground. You've poached these swamps for years, you and your brother and your daddy before you. You've worked for the people that tried to ruin this land. You got a lot to make up for, iffun you're sincere."
"Oh, I am, I am!"
Duffy started to beg again, but as he perched himself in the muck he felt the cutting blade right under his flank. He snaked his hand down and grabbed the handle with his good hand. "I am, I am!" he repeated, and couldn't contain his snicker as he brought he knife up, preparing to jam it into Lament's throat.
Duffy felt a subtle pressure on his wrist just before hearing another loud snap like another rotted branch breaking. He turned and watched Mrs. Hoopkins's knife fly by.
This time the pain hit quicker. Shrieking, Duffy went down and spun under the water, the agony in his two busted arms driving him nearly out of his head. He came up sputtering and coughing and grunting, but couldn't clear the muck from his throat. He began to croak like a gator.
Lament backed away until he was up on grassland, where he squatted and got out bis mouth-harp and twanged a tune. Duffy roared and croaked some more.
His own cries called three bulls out from the bog, and one after the other they crawled through the laurels and titi and came down after him. Lament stood his ground and when the gators strayed too close to him, he waved them on toward Duffy, who tried to scramble through the watergrasses and swim away with his two shattered limbs.
Try as he might though, he didn't manage to get very far before the gators set upon him.
They didn't kill him fast. They did what they like to do with their food, dragging it around and pounding it against logs, softening it, taking it down to their mud holes and stuffing it in tussocks of root and bramble, letting it ripen.
When the few straggler bulls came by to raise their heads from the water and stare inland, Lament said, "It's been a rough couple'a days, boys, now don't go makin' it no rougher. You got your supper, so you move on now."
They did, slipping away in one direction while Lament went another.
Hellboy faced Jester, thinking about being the destroyed and the destroyer. He wavered on his feet and saw that Jester was doing the same.
The angels swarmed him, plucking out pieces of him, stinging like wasps. He didn't know if it was going to help. All these years with Jester and they still didn't know anything much about what it meant to stand up and fall down. To love and to hate, to seek out answers in the earthquake and the silence. He was remote and He was not. He was vast and He was not. He was here within both of them and He was. We are. I am. The distance between man and God seemed as wide as ever. Archangels wouldn't be able to close the gap. It was up to man and God to get there on their own. Hellboy figured they'd make it eventually.
Dripping and mud-soaked, Lament appeared at Hellboy's side and tugged at his elbow. Hellboy tried to refocus.
"You all right, son?"
"What?"
"Them shadows been wearin' upon you."
"They have their work to do, same as the rest of us, I guess."
"You got some more fire, son?"
"I've always got fire." Hellboy got out the Zippo and snapped it off his hip again…In the glow, Hellboy saw that Lament held a throbbing black piece of… something.
"What do you have there?" Jester asked, roused from his own thoughts. "What is that?"
"This here?" Lament said. "Recognize it? This is apiece of shadow taken from a dead man. He chopped it off himself." Lament held the coursing piece of darkness in his hand. "Murdered his wife with a hatchet. Then threw it down and cut oft part of his own shadow."
"My…?"
"Makes me wonder… if I give it back, what's gonna happen?"
Jester knew it contained too much of the man he'd once been-the weak and faltering man, the one driven mad, the one denied by Heaven. He backed away a step and moaned because he felt something he had not felt in twenty years. The honest, true, and pure grip of fear.
"You know what I been doing with this portion of shadow right here?" Lament asked. "I been talkin' to it since I was a child. I been tryin' to teach it to follow God's path." He held the piece of darkness out to Hellboy and said, "I can't put it back to him. You gonna have to do it."