Blaze of Glory

by Weston Ochse

  "I, Travis James MacHenry, am gonna go out with a bang. In fact, as soon as I finish the better part of this cigar and this rather lazy cognac, I'm gonna get dressed, comb my hair, walk in the kitchen, pour fucking turpentine over my head, open the door and use the last of my Robusto to Flame On.”

  So many thoughts were going through Buckley's mind. He'd only wanted to help everyone, but was unable to shake the truth of his own cowardice. In the end, it seemed as if Travis had been the bravest of them all.

  "You want to know who I am? I’ll tell you who I am, Adamski. I’m Johnny Storm. No longer am I a washed up old has-been whose best days were when Toyota's motto was Oh What a Feeling. No longer will I wait to die like the rest of you chumps. I'm Johnny Fucking Storm who’s gonna go out in a blaze of glory."

  Sissy held Grandma Riggs by a hand and her shoulder, the old woman managing to support most of her own weight.

  "He was a good man, Mr. Adamski."

  Buckley glanced into her eyes and saw how clear they’d become.

  "Don’t blame him for not going gently," she added.

  "I wasn’t going to, I..."

  "It’s okay, boy. Be happy for him. He was allowed to find love before he died."

  Buckley's heart broke a bit as an impossible gulf opened in his chest revealing that which he most feared. "What about me? What about me, Grandma Riggs? Where’s my love? Why can’t I go gently?"

  The brightness left her blue eyes as they once again glazed over with the whiteness of the disease.

  "Don’t I get any love?" Buckley asked.

  Grandma Riggs's only reply was on odd grin. Then she cackled crazily and pointed to Little Rashad.

  Little Boy Blue,

  come blow your horn.

  The sheep's in the meadow,

  the cow's in the corn.

  Little Rashad solemnly raised his horn and began to blow the opening notes of Rocky.

  "Oh my Gosh!" Nikki pointed across the field.

  All eyes followed her finger and watched as the Caddie rose up and up and up as it finally noticed the pickup truck speeding towards it. The inside of the pickup truck cab was an inferno of fire. Standing at least ten stories, the creature roared, its jaw lowered towards the threat, ten-foot teeth, glimmering in the first rays of dawn.

  Even on fire, MacHenry managed to turn the wheel and angle the vehicle for the open maw. At the last moment, instead of fleeing as it should, the creature dipped its head to the ground and scooped up the speeding truck. In one anti-climactic crunch, it was gone. A small puff of smoke escaped the creature’s closed mouth.

  Buckley stared in awe. MacHenry had indeed gone out in a blaze of glory, but the gesture was as useless as a fly swatting a cow. He gulped. How sad was that? What a fucking waste.

  Lazily, the creature began to turn back towards the Home Depot. But it stopped as it noticed them standing across the road. Shifting away from the building, it headed their way, its movement creating the deafening sound of a mobile earthquake.

  Sissy screamed. "Run!"

  Little Rashad stopped playing and grabbed Nikki’s hand, jerking the awestruck girl towards the ocean. Buckley tossed the old woman over his shoulder in a Fireman’s Carry and took off after the kid who was already far in front.

  Sissy ran past him, turning to urge him to move faster. "Hurry!"

  Buckley followed as best he could, limping and staggering around mounds of over-turned earth, cars, trucks, the residue of fallen buildings, and several billboards.

  Little Rashad and Nikki made the beach first.

  "The pier," Buckley yelled. "Get on the pier." He couldn't see the creature behind him, but knew it was there. No way could he ignore the sound of a dozen freight trains bearing down on him, such was the sound, ominous with promises of devastation and destruction.

  Little Rashad and Nikki spied the entrance to the pier jutting several hundred feet into the water and sprinted for it. The finger of wood drew Buckley's eye to the ocean, and what he saw there was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. A huge, red, white, and blue Carnival Cruise Liner rode the waves just offshore. A foghorn split the air again. He heard the cheers of a thousand people aboard ship.

  Buckley couldn't help but grin. "Almost there, Grandma."

  He lurched across a three-way intersection, leaped a curb and hit the sand of Wrightsville Beach running. But the sand wasn't as firm as the street. Buckley found it almost impossible to run in. Although he tried, he didn't get a dozen steps before his feet sank. Then he stumbled and fell, sending Grandma flying.

  "Sissy. Help us," Buckley screamed.

  Buckley tried to stand, but his leg gave way.

  "Sissy!" He wailed. Grasping palmfuls of sand, Buckley pulled himself across to where Grandma lay sprawled. "Grandma, are you okay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

  She didn’t respond. Kneeling beside her, he turned her over and found her unconscious. What had he done? With the creature so close, they'd—

  Buckley spun to see where the creature was. Only a hundred feet away, the great beast was about to cross the road when it raised itself up and roared jet-engine loud. The light of a new morning illuminated the caddie's maw, revealing a thousand teeth and misshapen parasites waiting to be fed.

  But the creature's roar was interrupted by a cough. A puff of smoke exited the great maw. Then the caddie exploded causing the front half of the creature to evaporate in a fireball of blood and guts and Detroit metal.

  Buckley whooped. "Grandma, did you see that?" He turned and shook her shoulder. "Must have been the gas tank."

  But still she didn't stir.

  Sissy fell breathlessly to her knees beside Buckley. "Did you see that? He did it. He saved us."

  "Sure did." He shook his head, grinning despite his worry over Grandma Riggs. "MacHenry actually did it. Out in a blaze of glory."

  Then the pieces of the creature started raining down upon them. Large and small pieces of smoking bloody Maggie flesh, hit left and right and atop everyone. A piece the size of a water bed fell next to Buckley pinning his leg to the sand.

  "Ewww," Sissy almost wretched, as her clothes were covered with vile innards. "Disgusting."

  Buckley fell atop Grandma Riggs to protect her. Flinching at each impact, he couldn’t help but laugh madly as the heaven's rained monster guts. Even with his leg wedged beneath a ton of caddie flesh, the destruction of the beast was absolutely biblical.

  Finally, the one-of-a-kind rainstorm subsided.

  Sissy looked at the weight on his leg and shook her head. "We're gonna need some help for this," she said, as she got to her feet and ran to where the kids stood watching on the boardwalk.

  Buckley turned to the old woman. "Grandma?"

  She groaned.

  "Grandma? You all right?"

  "Except for your fat ass on top of me, I think so."

  Grinning like a madman, now, Buckley rolled off of her, but was still unable to stand. Using his shoulders as leverage, Grandma Riggs got to her feet.

  "I thought I’d lost you," Buckley said.

  "I’m pretty hard to get rid of."

  Buckley laughed sharply. "Definitely." Then he turned serious. "I want you to know that I’m sorry. I couldn't hold on."

  She shrugged. "Nothing to be sorry about, my boy. It couldn't be helped. You did everything right." She cupped his cheek in her withered palm and gazed fondly upon him. "You had love," she murmured.

  "What?"

  "You asked earlier where your love was. You were loved by all of us. You were loved best, Mr. Adamski."

  He leaned into her hand and whispered. "Sometimes I just wanted to give up. Sometimes I thought everyone hated me. I—"

  "I know. But you got us here. You invented a future for us."

  "But I was a coward."

  "No you weren't. Would a coward try and save us all? Would a coward do what you did?" Grandma Riggs cackled. "You are the bravest man I've ever known, Mr. Buckley Adamski."

  Before he could respond,
Little Rashad, Nikki and Sissy arrived at a run.

  "Looks like they're sending a launch," Sissy said.

  "I've never been on a ship before," Nikki exclaimed.

  They all looked to the ocean. A long boat was speeding to the shore from the cruise liner. Buckley counted six men on boat and room for twice that many. Salvation!

  Sissy grabbed the children. "Give me a hand. We need to get this off Mr. Adamski."

  As they leaned down, grasping at the wet bloody edges of caddie flesh, a sound shattered the dawn. They didn't need to look to know what it was. The freight train rattle of its onrushing passage told them everything they needed to know.

  "Hurry!" Sissy screamed. "We have to get this off of him!"

  As the children and the girl tried desperately to move the ton of meat from his leg, Buckley turned to see a caddie, previously hidden behind the Home Depot store, hurtling across the ground towards them. Fast and angry, as if it took the demise of its fellow creature personally

  "Fuck me."

  "Come on kids. Get it off," Sissy commanded.

  "I can't get a grip," Nikki cried.

  Tears poured down Little Rashad’s face. "I can't move it. I'm trying, but it won't even budge."

  Looking into their eyes, Buckley finally knew what MacHenry had felt. Such a great responsibility lay before him, such a great opportunity. Instead of fear, a conviction overwhelmed him. He knew what he had to do.

  "Stop it." Reaching out, he snatched Sissy's arms. "Run. Get to the boat. I’ll hold it off."

  "You can't. You've come all this way."

  Buckley shook his head. "And I got you here which is all I wanted to do. Now hurry. Run!"

  "But Mr. Adamski," Little Rashad shouted. "We can't leave you."

  "Sure you can, kid. They won't let me on the boat, anyway. Now grab Grandma Riggs and run like the devil himself is after you."

  "I haven’t run since Truman ran," Grandma Riggs snapped.

  Buckley kissed her on the cheek and watched as the four took off towards the boardwalk and the pier. He reached to where his Super Soaker still dangled at his hip. Holding it up high, he sighted towards the approaching caddie.

  Chapter 32

  When the caddie reached the beach, Buckley screamed at the top of his lungs and fired. The arch of liquid sizzled off the side of the creature, leaving a ragged smoking scar. Still, it came. Buckley squeezed the trigger once again, this time the arch was shorter and died quickly. Nothing happened on his next squeeze. His last weapon was empty.

  He sat straighter. He would not go gently into that good night. No way. Not after all this.

  Still, as the creature approached, he couldn't help but fall back as he stared up and up at its gargantuan size. Buckley's arms came up reflexively protecting his face as the caddie hovered above him.

  Then the great maw opened, and fell towards him.

  But a clear bright note pierced the morning air, and like an impervious shield, halted the descent of the creature. The caddie hovered above him, spear-sized teeth filling a cavernous mouth.

  Little Rashad had returned to Buckley's side, his horn pointed straight up into the maw of the monster. Buckley jerked at his leg, but it was still trapped.

  "Boy. Get away!"

  Little Rashad shook his head and continued playing until the note died. Taking a great breath, he renewed the note before the creature had a chance to react. And still the monster hovered transfixed above them.

  "Don't do this, boy. Save yourself."

  Again the boy shook his head, but this time he tapped his fingers depressing the valves. Buckley looked at them, then understood.

  "You're showing me the secret note, aren't you?"

  Little Rashad nodded and played the chorus of the Rocky theme song, the music filled with that note.

  "Show me again."

  The boy took another great breath, and returned to the single note that would keep Buckley alive.

  Buckley nodded. "Yeah. I think I got it."

  Little Rashad glanced wide-eyed at Buckley, who nodded again and held out his hand. As the boy’s note died this time, the caddie still transfixed by the sound, he passed his horn to Buckley.

  Buckley snatched the horn to his lips, adjusted his fingers and blew. Not as clear and bright as the boy's, but it was the same note and had the same effect. The monster held back.

  "I love you, Mr. Adamski."

  Buckley looked at the boy who'd they'd all called Little Rashad because he was so small. But he was far from little now. He'd come back for Buckley. The boy had given Buckley a weapon to help him defend himself at the expense of the boy's own safety. It'd taken Buckley a lifetime to get that brave. If he'd had a son, he'd have wanted it to be Rashad.

  Taking a breath, Buckley blew once more, trying to sustain the note, watching as the boy ran back to the pier and towards the launch that had landed and was even now boarding Grandma Riggs.

  Buckley's note sputtered and died.

  The caddie shook itself from its paralysis. Its maw began to descend.

  Buckley blew again, but was an octave too low. Tightening his lips, he blew harder, this time finding the right note. The caddie stopped a mere ten feet from his head, once again transfixed by the note. The rattle of air going through the monster rippled the space above Buckley's head. They were at a stand-off. As long as Buckley could blow the note, he was safe.

  In the distance, Buckley heard the sound of the outboard motor rev as the boat began to turn towards the cruise ship. He turned as far as he could to make sure the boat was indeed leaving.

  The great red orb of the sun had risen from the deep blue of the Atlantic Ocean. The cruise liner was outlined by the sunrise like some angelic vessel. Just as he'd hoped, Little Rashad, Nikki, Sissy and Grandma Riggs motored towards it in a launch. Beneath the sound of the motor, Buckley could hear the sound of Grandma Riggs singing.

  Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,

  Mutilated monkey meat, Chopped-up dirty birdies' feet.

  Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,

  And me without a spoon.

  Buckley returned his attention to the beast before him. He let his note die.

  "I love you too, kid." He grinned, his mission complete. The words of his favorite poem flowed through his soul.

  Do not go gently into that good night.

  Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

  Or as MacHenry would say, Flame On!

  With the last ounce of his strength, Buckley stuck his fist into the air, his middle finger pointing straight down the monster's gullet.

  "I hope you fucking choke!"

  Then the mouth snapped shut around him.

  The True Adventures of a Monster

  Screenplay in B-Movie Wonderland

  By Weston Ochse

  MONSTERS ARE COOL

  I wanted to write a monster story, one where the big MacDaddy evil monsters ravage the earth, destroy everything we love, and make us remember what is really important; that thing that separates us from every other living creature, our capacity to love. Call me a softy if you want, but this love is a part of most good monster movies.

  My generation grew up with Day of Triffids and Night of the Lepus. We had Them giant ants, giant spiders, and tractor-trailer-sized scorpions. The Wolfman, Frankenstein and Dracula were cool in a Christopher Lee-Vincent Price sort of way, but what really scared me was The Blob. Even the laugh-out-loud antics of Fred Ward and Kevin Bacon weren’t enough to detract from the terrible majesty of the giant beasts causing Tremors beneath the Arizona desert.

  The monsters that scared me were those unreasoning things that lacked the very essence we own by virtue of genetics-- our humanity. Nothing you can say to them has any affect. Nothing you do seems to work. You can’t outrun them. You can’t distract them with sophomoric strategies learned from white hats outwitting black hats on Sergio Leone westerns. The kind of monsters I’m talking about cause even the most devout Christian
to drop F-bombs as they gaze into the face of implacable murder, understanding that they need to pucker up because all is lost and that long ass-kiss good-bye is about to happen.

  I love those types of monsters--end of the world monsters with no care in the world for race, creed, color or religion, other than the fact that we taste like intergalactic chicken.

  Yeah!

  Those monsters.

  MONSTER MAKING 101

  So in 1998, I dug deep into my psyche, wargamed the creatures that had in turn created me and eventually wrote a monster story which became the novella Once Upon the End. I didn’t have a particular market in mind for this when I wrote it. Like many stories, I wrote it because it came to me and demanded it.

  I remember that I was right in the middle of developing Scary Redneck stories, to which I had been contracted by Darktales Publications, so I pushed the novella aside until I had time to give it the attention it deserved. At the time, a lot of my stories were being accepted in print and online, but none of the magazines had real spectacular print runs. For sure, I was pleased to be part of such revered publication venues as Frightnet, Mindmares, and The Inflated Graveworm, but like any author, I wanted to be read by as many people as possible, which meant magazines with national distribution. Add to that the fact that novellas are a particularly hard medium to sell, and, well, you get the picture.

  So I waited.

  Scary Rednecks and Other Inbred Horrors was published to amazing acclaim. My stories began appearing in anthologies on a regular basis. I began working on Scarecrow Gods, which as I’m writing this, I’m pleased to say, won the Bram Stoker Award for First Novel. Appalachian Galapagos, the sequel collection to Scary Rednecks, was completed and lost in the black hole of Imaginary Books, never to see light again until 2003. With the last exception, things were looking pretty nice.

  Then I saw an opportunity that I wasn’t expecting. Lone Wolf Publications, run by Brian Hopkins and Judi Rohrig, were planning an all monster all the time anthology and already had stories from Brian Lumley and Hugh B. Cave and were looking for a few good stories to add.