8 Bit Pulp Preview

by Brandon Noel

  “Yes, Mr Weatherby?”

  Tom's heart froze a moment. He sneezed and then pressed the intercom switch.

  “Did I leave my click pen in the board room?” Tom asked.

  “Check your left pocket,” the woman said.

 

  “Ah, there it is,” Tom laughed, “thank you, that will be all.”

  “Do you want me to bring in the purchase orders?”

  “Just drop them in my door. I don't wish to be disturbed at the moment.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Tom hurried over to the door and waited as the sound of spiked heels clacked across the marble floor. He peered through the spy hole and saw the secretary walking up. She bent over and slid a file under the door. Tom smiled as she stood back up and adjusted her tight dress. Then he looked down at the file by his foot and lifted it up.

  Lea walked arm in arm with Tom Weatherby as he led her around the main floor of the gallery.

  “This is one of my early pieces.”

  “It's lovely,” Lea said as she looked at the painting.

  They rounded a corner and Lea paused and pointed to a silver mask hanging on the wall, “I didn't know you did sculptures in silver.”

  “I don't. That mask is not one of mine, but I just had to have it,” Tom Weatherby narrowed his eyes as he studied it.

  “It looks one of a kind,” Lea said.

  “It is and it isn't,” Tom Weatherby smiled.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it is a twin, actually. An ancient sculptor made a pair of them. He clad one in silver and the other in gold. Legend says that if two allies wore the masks, they could share thoughts and visions over hundreds of miles.”

  “And if an enemy got a hold of one?”

  “The stronger mind would take control of the weaker one. The master could discover secrets and even possess the body of the other wearer to carry out the master's wishes.”

  “I can imagine how you would be drawn to such, power.” Lea slipped her hand onto Tom Weatherby's shoulder.

  He reached out and lifted the mask off the wall, “Want to try it on?”

  “How do I know you don't have the other one hidden away?” Lea asked as she studied the mask.

  “You'll just have to trust me,” Tom Weatherby smiled and pushed the mask towards Lea's face.

  Lea put it on and turned to look into Tom's face, but instead she saw Mrs. Chow and Mr. Young staring down at her. Lea blinked and saw Tom looking at her intently. She smiled and bowed slightly.

  “Your wish is my command,” Lea said wryly.

  Tom Weatherby leaned forward and pulled Lea into his arms. He kissed her lips before she could object and lifted her up easily. He walked slowly across the main floor of his gallery and stepped into a waiting elevator. He nodded to the guard who pressed a button on a console and the elevator doors closed.

  Lea removed the mask as Tom Weatherby groped at the buttons on her blouse. The elevator whirred along and Tom suddenly hit the emergency stop. The elevator jolted and the mask fell to the floor.

  Mrs. Chow looked at Mr. Young as he put the mask on. He sat upright and the corner of his mouth twitched.

  “What is it? What do you see?” Mrs. Chow asked as she shook his shoulders.

  “I cannot be certain where it is, but she's found it.” Mr. Young pulled the mask away from his face and set it down.

  “Let me see,” Mrs. Chow ordered.

  “It may not work a second time.”

  Mr. Young tried to keep the mask from Mrs. Chow but she was too quick. She shoved the mask onto her face and looked through its eyes. Mr. Young studied her face as she frowned and set it back down.

  “What did you see?” Mr. Young asked.

  “Nothing but your big ugly face,” Mrs. Chow said.

  “Perhaps it's for the best,” Mr. Young said.

  Tom had just finished scanning the last of the purchase orders when the elevator chimed again. This time the lights flickered upward and stopped on the office floor. Tom moved toward the elevator with his gun raised. The doors opened and he saw Lea standing over a slouched figure.

  “Sorry, do you need more time?” Tom asked as he lowered his gun.

  “I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Lea smirked as she finished buttoning her blouse. “Now help me drag him over to that sofa and get his pants off.”

  “I'll leave that to you, it seems you were halfway there without my help.” Tom ducked as Lea threw one of her shoes at him.

  Tom went over the purchase orders again and set them back on the floor where the secretary had slid them. Then he went back to the desk and shuffled a few things around in his briefcase.

  Lea pulled one of the drop clothes over Tom Weatherby's waist and draped his tie over the arm of the sofa. She kissed his cheek and then walked over to one of the paintings. She lifted a brush and stared at the painting thoughtfully.

  “Come on, that stuff won't last long,” Tom said as he walked to the elevator.

  Lea walked back over to the elevator and grabbed Tom. He struggled to get away from her as she messed up his hair and pulled at his tie. Then she kissed him so forcefully, Tom forgot to fight it and began to tilt his head. She stepped back and wiped her mouth.

  “There, now you look the part,” she said as she fluffed her hair. She fixed her lipstick and stepped back onto the elevator. “Coming, Mr. Weatherby?”

 

  The guard at the front desk watched as the beautiful woman stepped from the elevator with her blouse buttoned wrong. Mr. Weatherby stepped off next and looked even more disheveled than she did. He followed after the woman and held out the silver mask absentmindedly.

  “See that this gets returned to its proper spot.”

  “Yes, Mr. Weatherby,” the guard said.

  “And don't mention this to my sister, you know how Lea gets.”

  “Yes, Mr. Weatherby.”

  Once they were in the cab, Tom opened his briefcase and dropped his gun in beside the silver mask.

  “Now, you are certain this is the real thing?” He asked.

  “I'm positive,” Lea said.

  “Lucky day for us after all,” Tom said as he snapped the locks shut.

  “So it would seem.” Lea looked out the window.

  The cab stopped at The Lucky Dragon as the sun was setting. Mr. Young held the door open for them.

  “So good to see you, Mr. Tom. Perhaps you can stay for a meal tonight.”

  “I would like that,” Tom said, “And maybe I can try to win back some of what you stole from me last week.”

  “It is not stealing when I won it fair and square.”

  “You should know not to go up against the champion,” Lea said, as she walked up the steps.

  Tom shook his head and went in to find a table. Mr. Young caught Lea's arm.

  “Did you find the perfume helpful?”

  “Yes, it put him right out,” Lea said. “It didn't hurt him, did it?”

  “No,” Mr. Young laughed. “He will wake up feeling as though he had finished what he started in the elevator.”

  Lea's eyes flashed as she looked at him.

  “Good job finding the masks.” Mr. Young tapped the corner of his eye and turned to greet more customers.

  Lea found Tom sitting at table 5. Mrs. Chow was already setting the tea cups on the table. Lea was happy to see the umbrella waiting for her. She slid into the booth and lifted her cup.

  “To Tom Weatherby,” Lea said.

  Tom smiled and tapped his cup to hers, “And Lea Weatherby.”

  After their meal, Mrs. Chow brought out their cookies.

  Tom opened his cookie and looked at the fortune.

  YOU ARE FRANK BENTON

  Frank looked over at Lea's and shook his head. “Well, are you ready to go, Milly?”

  “I'm just going to finish my drink first,” Milly said.

  “Are you ready for a fast game?” Mr. Yo
ung asked.

  “Not tonight, duty calls,” Frank said.

  “Next time then,” Mr. Young nodded.

  Tom Weatherby woke up in his office as his secretary's voice blared at him over the intercom. He got up and looked around in confusion for a moment. He saw his pants draped over a chair. He started to pick them up when he noticed the fresh paint on his canvas. Below the little splash of color was a lipstick print and a little note swirled beneath it.

  “Mr. Weatherby, Mr. Mills is here to see you.”

  “Just a moment Jenny,” he said, as he hit the intercom.

  He threw on his pants and found his shirt. He opened the door and Mr. Mills stepped inside.

  “How can I help you?”

  “Did you rethink my offer on the mask?”

  Tom sat back and ran his hand across his cheek, “While it is very generous, it holds sentimental value.”

  “If I were sentimental about the things I collected and sold, I would not be where I am today. The secret to success is that everything has a price.”

  Mr. Mills snapped his finger and one of his men came forward with a briefcase. He began setting out stacks of hundred dollar bills. Tom's eyes widened and he sat down on the arm of the sofa. He glanced over at the painting and then back at the stack of bills.

  “Alright, alright, it's yours,” Tom said. “This way.”

  The men followed Tom to the elevator and he noticed his security badge on the floor. He picked it up and stuck it in the key pad. The elevator doors closed and they rode down to the main floor of the gallery. The security guard nodded at Tom and watched as he walked to the silver mask. Tom lifted it from the wall and handed it over to Mr. Mills.

  “May it bring you as much luck as it has brought me,” Tom said.

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” Mr. Mills said.

  Tom stepped back as Mr. Mills and his men left. He returned to his office and began putting the money away in his safe. The phone rang once, and Tom pushed a button. A panel slid across the alcove behind his desk, hiding the safe. He turned around to answer the phone when his sister walked in.

  “Yes. Mr. Weatherby?”

  “Where are the purchase orders?”

  “Under your door,” Jenny said, “Don't you remember?”

  “Right. Just got side tracked.”

  “Need these?” Lea asked as she dropped the stack on his desk.

  “What are you doing here?” Tom frowned.

  “Just seeing if Mills was able to buy you out.”

  “He already bought you out, little sister,” Tom said as he sat down in his chair.

  “Who did you bring up this time?” Lea asked as she wiped the lipstick from Tom's cheek. “Some stranger off the street?”

  “She wasn't a stranger,” Tom shrugged. “Her name was Lea.”

  Lea slapped him across the face and stormed out of the office. Tom looked back over at the painting and smiled.

  Mr. Mills smiled as he sat in his penthouse, “Hey Sharon, come in here.”

  “Yes, baby?” Sharon hurried to his side.

  “Put this on for me.”

  “What is it?” Sharon looked at the silver mask.

  “It's a magic trick. Just put it on,” Mills said.

  Sharon slipped on the mask and Mills pulled on the other. He focused on Sharon.

  “What are we supposed to do now, Millsey?”

  “Disappear,” Mills said.

  He lifted a gun from under a cushion and fired it. Sharon fell to the floor; pieces of the shattered mask lay around her. Mills stood over her as some of his men came in.

  “Boss, what's going on?”

  “It didn't work,” Mills said.

  “Hey boss, it was just a legend. I tried to tell you, these things aren't real.”

  Mills raised his gun again and fired, leaving his man on the floor beside Sharon.

  Mills looked at the remaining men, “I got more bullets if you want to join them. If not, get 'em out of here before they mess up my rugs. I just had them cleaned,” Mills said. “And send for Shannon.”

  The remaining men carried the bodies out and left Mills alone. He threw the gold mask into the fire and stormed out of the room. The eyes of the mask flickered as the fire flared around it.

  Miranda Warning

  By Wayne Abraham

  Published in 8 Bit Pulp Volume three

  “We have walkers on Level Two,” Jorge Gonzales said, pointing to the middle of the monitor banks. Chris Millerton sighed and zoomed in on the figures on The Esplanade’s upper level. They were a petite brunette in her early 20’s, a busty redhead in her early 30’s, and a man with a full, white beard.

  “Look, it’s Santa,” laughed Jorge. Not that the man was dressed as Santa - he was wearing black jeans, a black jacket and a black ball cap - but he would have done any Santa suit proud.

  Chris chuckled and pointed to the brunette, wearing a top of alternating four-inch black and white stripes and said, “There’s Waldo!”

  “Ahab’s let ‘em loose without notifying us,” Chris said, zooming in on the familiar, green Ahab’s Coffee whale logo on the clear cup in the redhead’s hand. It was half full of some iced coffee concoction. Movement on an adjacent monitor caught Chris’ attention. He looked and saw that his partner had zoomed in for a close-up of the redhead’s chest.

  “Jorge!” Chris exclaimed.

  “What?” Jorge asked, looking at her t-shirt. The front was printed with a pair of polyhedral dice showing the number 20 on top of each and bearing the phrase, “Yes! They’re natural!” “I don’t get it...” Jorge complained. Chris shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  “She’s a gamer chick, Jorge. She plays games using character sheets, rule books and 20-sided dice!” Chris said to his partner. Jorge still looked confused. “Never mind, we’ll call her ‘The Natural’. Let’s let’em stew a bit. If they complain to Ahab’s, maybe the management will come down on their employees for not doing their job,” said Chris.

  “And maybe pigs will fly,” Jorge chuckled, watching the group try a set of locked exit doors. They shrugged, looked at one another, and then wandered off in search of another exit. They were strolling along, unconcerned, with Waldo and The Natural taking the lead and slowly outpacing Santa.

  Chris brushed some lint off of the rather sinister snake patch of his All-star Security Providers jacket. He had been working here at The Esplanade for nine months. Being the largest mall in a 50-mile radius, The Esplanade was always busy, especially on the weekends. But he wouldn’t trade it for anywhere else in the world. An involuntary shiver went down his spine as he recalled the three years prior and he refocused on the security monitors.

  Ten minutes passed. “They’re starting to get a bit spooked,” Jorge observed. He was right, Chris noted. Waldo and The Natural were walking shoulder to shoulder and Santa was right behind them. They were walking slower, as a close-knit group, and making furtive glance around at their surroundings.

  Twenty minutes and four locked exits later, Jorge said, “You’d better go give them their freedom.” Chris nodded as he donned his jacket and headed for the west end of The Esplanade where the group was currently wandering.

  He found them after they just tried their fifth locked exit. Putting on his stern business face Chris said, “You know the mall closed at nine o’clock?” They all nodded in unison. “That means you are now officially trespassing,” Chris declared. Horrified expressions appeared on Waldo and The Natural’s faces. Santa just looked at him with an alert, neutral expression. Unable to keep a straight face, Chris grinned and said, “I’m kidding! How did you end up here?”

  “We closed out Ahab’s” said The Natural. “The barista said security leaves an exit unlocked, but it changes every night. So we’ve been looking for the exit.”

  Chris shook his head in resignation. He said, “When they have late customers like you, they are supposed to call us so we can escort you to an exit and let you out.
”

  “This mall’s creepy at night. You don’t have any zombies about, do you,” asked Waldo rather grimly.

  Chris chuckled and replied, “No. The Esplanade is as safe as can be. There is no weirdness going on here at all! But, um, have you been to Miranda High School?”

  “I know of it,” Waldo said. “I attended Manzanita High, myself. But a couple of my cousins are at Miranda.”

  “I worked there for three years before coming here,” Chris said. “I was replacing a friend of mine. He told me to be careful because the school was haunted. I just laughed at him, saying, ‘I don’t believe in ghosts!’ So, where are you folks parked?”

  “Down by June Bloom in the parking structure there,” said The Natural.

  “Then let’s head this way,” Chris said.

  “I’ve always heard weird stuff about Miranda High,” said Waldo.

  “It’s true!” said Chris fervently, “You won’t believe the things I’ve seen and heard there. I still have trouble believing most of it myself!” His mind began to replay events he had tried to forget. Without realizing it he switched to Storyteller mode…