King Bullet

by Richard Kadrey

  He stands, brushing himself off, and says, “I told you to go for my head.”

  Getting up off the floor, I say, “Come outside. Just you and me. I know you want to show off for the Mickey Mouse Club.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  “No more ideas.”

  Laughing, he says, “I’m going to give you what you love most in the world.”

  “Roscoe’s chicken and waffles?”

  “To fight a battle you can’t win.”

  “If you mean my battle with gingivitis, I know I should floss more.”

  He looks at Brigitte.

  “I’m going to give you ten minutes to go anywhere you want. Within L.A. of course.”

  “Then what?”

  “My Shoggots will hunt you, kill you, and bring me your head.”

  “How about a nice game of Stratego?”

  “Nine and a half minutes.”

  “What if I just sit right here?”

  “Then you get killed here. And the Shoggots not hunting you will kill all of your friends.”

  “Listen—”

  “Nine minutes.”

  “If we make it ’til dawn you call your people off.”

  “Deal.”

  Monkey is still holding on to Brigitte’s arm. He sniffs her.

  “I can smell your pussy.”

  I start out and nod to her.

  “Let’s go.”

  She shoots Monkey in the face and follows me. I pull her into a shadow.

  We come out in the Beverly Center, the upscale shopping utopia at the corner of Beverly Boulevard and La Cienega. Eight floors of the kind of consumer garbage that L.A. is famous for. Need a Ferrari jacket? Sure. You’re a race car driver. Vroom vroom. Need silk designer socks that cost more than neurosurgery? We have that too. Come on down to the Beverly Center for something bright and shiny and leave feeling poorer, puzzled, and dead inside.

  Brigitte looks around.

  “Why are we here?”

  “It’s perfect. He’ll never think of looking for us here.”

  “I think King Bullet is smarter than that.”

  “Fine. If we break this place, who cares? I hate malls. Don’t you?”

  “I never really thought about it.”

  “I mean look at this shit. Louis Vuitton, Victoria’s Secret, Bath and Body Works, and a vitamin store? It’s not bad enough that they spend the national budget on looking pretty, they want to live forever too. That’s just hubris.”

  “You worry about the strangest things, Jimmy.”

  “I can’t help it. A pair of Simone Perele thong panties took my lunch money in high school. It scarred me for life.”

  Brigitte shakes her head.

  “Shouldn’t we find somewhere to hide?”

  I look at the million stores around us.

  “Take your pick.”

  “Macy’s is large. There will be more places to hide.”

  “That’s a good idea. If we can get into the security office we can see if any Shoggots figured out where we went.”

  We go through another shadow into Macy’s and wait for a moment to see if any motion sensors go off. When nothing happens, we prowl the edges of the store looking for the security office. Twenty minutes of this crap and I get bored. So I kneel down in the middle of the men’s suits and carve runes into the floor with the black blade, while whispering some location hoodoo. A bright gold line traces itself in the air, wavering slightly like it’s caught in a gentle breeze. It runs straight, then left, right, up a floor, and stops. Brigitte and I run along the path the spell laid out in the air, and find the security office a couple minutes later.

  Not surprisingly, the place is empty. Maybe they’re monitoring the store from a remote location. Maybe, in the wake of the epidemic, the rent-a-cops are dead or just don’t give a damn anymore. Whatever the reason, the security office is empty. I turn on the cameras and Brigitte and I settle down to watch some quality TV.

  I say, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this stupid game tonight.”

  “Don’t be silly. This is exactly what I’m here for.”

  “Then thanks.”

  “You can thank me when this night is over.”

  We turn back to the monitors for a while. Here’s the thing, though: even when you’re running for your life, a bank of monitors showing you stationary shots of tuxedo mannequins, nonstick cookware, walls of shoes, fake antique furniture, silk sheets, and faux alligator handbags is boring. So goddamn boring that you’d rather have a Terminator take an angle grinder to your skull than watch for another minute. Luckily, Brigitte is more determined than me. While I wander away to check out the room, she stays by the monitors, keeping us safe from Shoggots and any rats that have made their way into the empty mall looking for gluten-free kale smoothie mix.

  It’s tempting to fire up the coffee maker, but there’s time for that later when we’re sure the Shoggots are off looking for us in the Hollywood Forever cemetery or the Roosevelt Hotel. I pull open desk drawers and break open storage cabinets. Finally, I come up with something useful.

  “Merry Christmas to me.”

  Brigitte looks up from the monitors.

  “What did you find? Candy bars or toys to play with? Please take this seriously.”

  “I am taking it seriously,” I say and toss her one of the two Benelli shotguns from the cabinet, along with a box of shells. “The only ammo I can find is bird shot, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Why does a department store have shotguns?”

  “This is L.A. Everyone is always expecting Ragnarok.”

  She smiles and loads her gun while I come back to the monitors with my own Benelli.

  “Anything?”

  “Nothing at all,” Brigitte says. “Maybe you were right and King Bullet doesn’t suspect.”

  “Maybe. But we need to stay here a lot longer to make sure. Dawn at least.”

  “I think you’re right. Is there any food?”

  “I’ll look around. Maybe someone left something in the fridge.”

  In fact, someone did leave something there. A Tupperware container of something that had transformed over the last few weeks into a white fungus, like someone was trying to grow bunnies in the security office. There’s some spoiled milk and half a can of flat Coke. But in the back, I get lucky and bring the box I found over to Brigitte.

  “Protein bars.”

  She takes the box and selects a couple bars, then hands it back to me, saying, “You can have the rest.”

  I look them over.

  “Wait. You took all the fruit ones. All that’s left are nuts and twigs.”

  “Just like you. Some twigs, but mostly nuts.”

  “You’re so funny.”

  “I’m the one watching the monitors. That should entitle me to first choice.”

  “Have you seen anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  I unwrap some kind of gluten-free nut-and-complete-bullshit bar.

  “See? I told you they wouldn’t look here.”

  “Eat your food,” she says. “You’re not so pretty when you’re smug.”

  One bite of the protein bar and I flip it end over end into a trash can. I get out my phone and call Janet.

  When they pick up, I say, “Hi. I just wanted to let you know that things went great and me and Brigitte are fine.”

  “I’m so relieved. You don’t know what I was going through. What we all were going through. When are you coming back?”

  “It might be a while. Probably not before morning.”

  “Why that long?”

  “It’s nothing. Just some people are looking for us and I think if we can make it tonight we’ll be all right.”

  “But you said that things were all right. Who’s looking for you?”

  “Some of King Bullet’s knuckleheads. But they’ll never find us.”

  “You always sound so sure and then bad things happen.”

  “Trust me.”

  I
hear them take a breath and say, “How can I help?”

  “Just take care of yourself and the others.”

  “Do whatever you have to, but come back. Okay?”

  “I’m halfway home.”

  When I put the phone away Brigitte says, “How are they?”

  “Nervous.”

  “You told Janet a very nice fairy tale.”

  “It’s not a fairy tale. We’re doing fine.”

  “For how much longer?”

  She points to a screen showing an Apple store. A small group of Shoggots mill around outside.

  “Shit.”

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “Stay put for now. There’re a hundred stores in the mall. They can’t search everything in one night.”

  “I suppose it depends on how many Shoggots there are.”

  “Or how many are here.”

  Other monitors show more Shoggots all over the place. I start loading the Benelli.

  “How did they find us here?”

  Brigitte says, “I told you King Bullet was smart.”

  “Yeah? Where would you have hidden so he couldn’t find you?”

  “At the hotel, of course.”

  I look at her.

  “That’s actually a really good idea. Maybe we should go back?”

  The screens show the lower floors filling up fast with Shoggots.

  Brigitte says, “Maybe not now. If his people find nothing the King will become suspicious.”

  “You’re right. We have to deal with these fuckers. At least for a while.”

  “There are a lot of them.”

  “Maybe we can break them up a little. Let’s see.”

  When I get up, Brigitte says, “Where are you going?”

  “Downstairs where they can see me.”

  “What good will that do?”

  “I’m going to hop in and out of shadows. Maximum confusion. When I have them chasing their tails, I’ll come back.”

  “Be careful. Janet will never forgive me if I let you get hurt.”

  I look over her shoulder at the monitors.

  “Where’s a good place to start, do you think?”

  Brigitte points to a Kenzo store.

  “There are no Shoggots at the store, but there’s a group directly below.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  I slip through a shadow and come out across the mall near the top of an escalator. There’s a small mob of Shoggots at the bottom. Bracing the Benelli against my shoulder, I shout, “Up here, you ugly fucks.” And then empty the shotgun into the crowd before stepping into another shadow.

  I come out near a bakery on the first floor and pull the same gag with a group who are all staring up at where I was. Only this time they’re all facing away, so I empty the Colt into their backs before letting them see me.

  On the eighth floor I pop out near a UNIQLO, reload the shotgun, and fire below. Not even aiming at anything. Just letting the sound call the King’s animals to me.

  After that bit of fun, I head back to Brigitte.

  “How did I do?”

  She scans the screens.

  “You certainly have them angry and confused.”

  “Want me to take you out for a round? It’s a lot of fun.”

  She thinks for a minute.

  “Maybe you were right before. Perhaps staying here is foolish.”

  “You want to go back to the hotel?”

  “No. Not yet. But if we can convince the Shoggots that we’re here, we could slip out to anywhere else in the city for a few hours.”

  “You mean bring them into Macy’s? The place is a goddamn maze. They could run around looking for us all night.”

  “Exactly. Shall we try it?”

  “Why not? It’s better than sitting here.”

  We leave the security office and go to the store’s mall entrance, which is currently covered by a huge gate that rolls up into the ceiling. I get out the Colt and we start shouting.

  It doesn’t take long to get the attention of a lot of Shoggots. I mean a lot of them. They pound on the gate and try to pry it up from where it’s locked to the floor. Me and Brigitte back away, still shouting, but I’m not having quite as good a time as I was before.

  Reloading the Colt, I look at her.

  “Seeing them all together like that, there’re a lot more of them than I thought.”

  “And who knows how many are out looking for us other places?”

  “It really is an army. The King has all the crazies left in L.A.”

  “And who knows how many more will be transformed when infected with the virus?”

  The gate starts to crumple. Not because they’ve pried open the lock, but from the sheer weight of all the lunatics massed against it. I grab Brigitte’s hand and we run. We keep going for two or three minutes, until it feels like we’ve run to Nebraska.

  “Now?” Brigitte says.

  “Now.”

  I dodge left and pull her into a shadow.

  We come out by the escalators a couple of floors below. The sounds of the Shoggots screaming and tearing the upper mall apart echo off the smooth glass walls, filling the place with grunts, crashes, and shrieks.

  There aren’t a lot of shadows where we are so me and Brigitte run down the escalators heading for street level.

  And right into another Shoggot mob.

  How many recruits does King Bullet have? Is he giving away free toasters when you sign up?

  I start blasting the closest Shoggots with the Benelli I reloaded upstairs. Bird shot won’t kill you from a distance but a load of it into your face from close up will 100 percent fuck up your day.

  Brigitte keeps the crazies off our backs, but we don’t have much ammo and have to get out of here fast. When it’s empty, I throw away the Benelli and get out the Colt. I empty that too, then bark some Hellion hoodoo to blast a hole in the remaining mob. We make it to ground level and I get out the na’at, swinging it like a steel whip through the windows. Glass rains down all around us as we run outside. I shout more hoodoo and the glass swirls into the air like a glittering twister, blasting itself into the mall and cutting the nearby Shoggots into kitty litter.

  With the streetlights out, I still can’t find any good shadows to jump through. But Brigitte spots an abandoned Prius up the street. How humiliating. Do I really want to get rescued by a hybrid? But I have a partner with me, so I get out the black blade and open the doors so we can jump in. Then jam the blade into the ignition. We get lucky and the little car fires right up.

  We pull a one-eighty and head north, trying to get into Hollywood and back to the hotel. I try turning onto Rosewood Avenue, but the street is blocked by the cops and National Guard. I pull another one-eighty and head back up the street. But every street we cross, it’s the same thing. Cop cars and National Guard personnel carriers. Every one of them on the street is armed with a long gun.

  Finally, after driving up and down La Cienega, I’m about to tell Brigitte that we’ll dump the car and go the rest of the way on foot. There are some lights in Hollywood and that means shadows to jump through.

  At Fountain Avenue a goddamn whale on wheels shoots across us and I have to jerk the car hard to the right to keep from colliding with it.

  It’s an L.A. city bus. But the downtown buses don’t run anymore. They haven’t in weeks.

  Before we can even get started again, the bus turns around, as clumsy as a listing barge, and charges back at us. I try to get a look at the driver, but I don’t really have to. It’s a fucking Shoggot and the bastard is looking to run us down.

  We play dodge up and down Hollywood side streets for a while. Brigitte takes out her pistol and fires through the rear window at the bus. She hits the windshield, but not the driver. The crazy plows through parked cars, glass-walled bus shelters, and the front of some shops in its clumsy chase until the whole front end is a mass of pounded metal. But it doesn’t stop. It stays on our tail and it will be there until it kills us
or I can figure out something to do.

  “Any ideas?” I say to Brigitte.

  “If you could stop or slow down maybe I can jump from the car, get inside, and kill the fool behind the wheel.”

  “You are seriously not doing that. One mistake and you’re a squashed bug. There has to be something else. I just need one good shadow.”

  “The only lights are by the barricades.”

  “Then that’s where we have to go.”

  “They’ll arrest us. If they don’t shoot us first.”

  The bus makes a burst of speed and rear-ends us, sending the little Prius into a spin. I have to fight the damn thing to keep it from rolling. But I keep the car on its wheels and he takes off again. But we’re dragging. Something happened to the rear end. The bus damaged the axle or the u-joint or something. I can’t get up as much speed as before and the bus keeps gaining on us.

  I give Brigitte a look.

  “Maybe getting shot is the best thing that can happen right now.”

  “Explain that to me, please?”

  “Trust me.”

  “I have no choice.”

  As the Shoggot bus bears down on us, ten tons of psychotic metal, I do a screaming turn north onto Hollywood Boulevard. The Guard and cops have the way blocked with heavy armor all the way across the street. Perfect. I jam the accelerator to the floor and keep it there. The bus falls back a little but is soon catching up with us, and the Prius is running rougher and rougher. It shakes likes we’re stuck in a paint mixer. But there are lights ahead. Streetlights and halogen work lights on poles around the barricade.

  Brigitte braces herself against the dashboard.

  “Jimmy?”

  “Any second now.”

  The guards along the barricade aren’t dumb. They see a car and a bus bearing down on them and it’s obvious that neither is going to stop. I can hear someone yammering some warning or other through a bullhorn, but are we listening? Hell no.

  One more time I say “Trust me” to Brigitte and grab her hand. She squeezes it like she’ll never let go.

  We hit the area with streetlights just as the first pop-pop-pops start from the Guard troops firing at us and the bus. A shot hits the windshield between us, spiderwebbing it. But we’ve reached the lighted zone. A lovely fat shadow passes over the front seats. I drag Brigitte into it.