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Crab Town

Page 8

by Carlton Mellick III


  When Sailboat sees her body on the ground, his eyes fill with rage.

  “You motherfuckers!” he screams.

  He rips Doomsday’s Tommy Gun out of her arms, and fires at the cops out of the window. He tears down a line of them as they charge the building.

  Miss Doomsday takes Sailboat’s shotgun and runs down the stairs. She can hear the gate splinter open as they break it down with the battering ram.

  When she gets downstairs, she goes into the back room with Nine, aiming at the gate from the doorway, ready to fire at the cops who enter.

  “Nine, do you think you can fire a weapon?” Miss Doomsday says, without looking at her.

  The Nine of Hearts doesn’t respond.

  “Nine?”

  Doomsday turns around to see a cluster of black sewer crabs where Nine had been lying. The crabs are ripping apart her flesh, crawling inside her torso and pulling out her insides. Half of her face is missing. A small crab snaps at an eyeball dangling from its socket. Her pink rib bones can be seen through the mass of black spidery limbs.

  She sees that there are more crabs coming out of the storm drain toward Nine, like a row of ants. Doomsday isn’t sure if the crabs started eating Nine while she was still alive, but she sure hopes that wasn’t the case. She hopes she bled to death long before the crabs got to her.

  When the cops break through the gate, Miss Doomsday opens fire. She blasts through the first cop, pumps her shotgun, and blows off the next one’s elbow before he can find cover. They shoot back at her, tearing through her abdomen with machinegun fire, knocking her to the ground.

  She kicks the door closed.

  As she holds in her wounds, lying back on the concrete floor, she stairs up at the ceiling. She can hear Sailboat stomping around up there, firing the Tommy Gun, yelling at the cops below, calling them evil bastards for killing Little Sister. She was just a fifteen-year-old kid. He doesn’t understand how they could intentionally do such a thing.

  Doomsday hears feet scuttling across the floor in the main room.

  “Get the bomb out of here!” shouts one of the cops. “Quickly.”

  Miss Doomsday’s eyes widen. “What?”

  She hears some kind of forklift being wheeled into the front room, heading toward the Crab-Bomb.

  “No,” Miss Doomsday calls out. “You’ll detonate the bomb…”

  But with a bullet in her lungs, her voice isn’t loud enough to be heard. She tries to get up, tries crawling toward the door to stop them.

  “Don’t do it…” she says.

  She can’t get off the ground, she can’t move.

  “We never wanted to blow it up,” she says. “Even if we failed there would still be hope.”

  With one more effort to get off the ground, she realizes that it’s not just her wounds that are keeping her down. There are black sewer crabs clawing her flesh, holding her to the ground.

  “All we wanted to do was talk,” she says, as the crabs crawl across her body.

  Upstairs, Sailboat runs out of bullets and begins throwing furniture out the windows at the cops.

  “Be careful,” says the cops behind the door. “That thing could explode.”

  “All we wanted was a chance,” Miss Doomsday says to the crabs as they tear into her flesh.

  The sound of bullets piercing through Sailboat’s face can be heard all the way downstairs.

  “Just a fair chance, like everyone else.”

  A cop yells out, “Not like that! It’s going to explode!”

  Just before the bomb goes off, Miss Doomsday cries out one last time, with all of her strength, hoping to be heard. But before she can get out even a single word, a black crab tears out her tongue like a child being violently separated from its womb.

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