Is This The End?

by Craig Sargent

  Mid-afternoon of his third day enclosed in the steel cage, the door opened unexpectedly between feedings. Stone, who had been standing on his head in a yoga position for upper neck and shoulder relaxation, was so startled that he fell over onto his side, which got Excaliber all stirred up and growling so that the whole place was in its usual chaotic state.

  “Shhhh!” the dwarf woman said as she hobbled through the door and aimed a small transmitter at it from the inside so it closed quickly behind her.

  “I want to help you,” she said as she came to the center of the cell, limping on one foot. Stone saw that she was virtually crippled in every part of her body. It was as if every single joint had been bent out of its proper angle and alignment, every tendon twisted. Stone knew who did work like that. She stopped just before him and smiled as Excaliber relaxed, seeing it was the Chow Lady. He came up to her and rubbed his nose into her hip in a gesture of supreme friendliness. The animal rarely did that to anyone but Stone.

  “He likes you,” Stone said with a grin.

  “There isn’t much time,” she said, her voice trembling with pain as Stone realized that all those terrible woundings of her body didn’t just look peculiar, they hurt like hell. “The Dwarf—you know he is planning to have you compete in the Games. They start tomorrow. You have less than twenty-four hours before—” She hardly seemed able to continue.

  “What?” Stone asked “What are the Games like?”

  “I have seen other men compete,” she said with sobs catching in her throat, as she had obviously seen many people come and go down here. “But none came out alive. The Dwarf sets humans against beasts they have no chance of defeating. Against lions, and immense alligators. He has units of troops out constantly scouring the territory for hundreds of miles just trying to get monstrous creatures who will rip and tear men in different ways. I don’t know just what he has planned for you. But it will be terrible, I can promise you that.”

  “What—what happened to you?” Stone asked, hesitant to delve into such a personal subject. Yet he couldn’t help it, for her mutilations looked inflicted by men, not nature.

  “I… I…” she stuttered, hardly able to talk.

  “Easy,” Stone said, “you’re among friends.” The dog snorted and pressed his nose deeper against her hipbone as she scratched the furred head.

  “They took me—and—destroyed me,” she said, tears starting to form at the edges of her eyes. “Dr. Kerhausen used me as one of his first experimental subjects when he arrived here. I was a secretary once for the Under Secretary of the Air Force. When the war came, we were all placed down here. There were hundreds of us—at first. But something went wrong. Many died, became mutated, burned. There were gases and radioactivity. I don’t know. The ten are all that are left of the original bunch. And they are freaks like me. Freaks. They stamp the image of themselves on all that they touch. They wish to make the world diseased and ugly. Dr. Kerhausen ripped me apart, sawed my very bones from my body and then reshaped them. In the name of science, he said, over and over again, as I screamed and begged for mercy. Science has no mercy, he would answer over and over again. It cannot. The individual must be sacrificed so that society can survive.”

  “Jesus,” Stone said, looking down at her with horrified eyes. He knew that as bad as he might ever feel, what with his mother and father dying and all, there were others, like her, who had undergone far, far worse.

  “I don’t know how I survived. Most don’t and they are discarded, or ground up and used for nutrient solution in the hydroponic sector. Nothing goes to waste down here,” she said bitterly. “But I did live and Kerhausen let me live, because he wanted to see what would happen to me as the years went on—what would happen to the twisted bones, the rewired nerves. And gradually they let me wait on them and trusted me enough to serve them food and clean their toilets. And I have waited, Mr. Stone. Waited until I knew I could hurt them, could get them back in some way. And that moment has come. I want—to help you, however I can. I want to kill them all. What they’ve done to your sister—it’s horrible. Drugged her, and the blasphemous wedding dress—degrading every sacred institution of the old world. They had me cleaning in her room—I saw her.”

  “You know where she is?” Stone asked excitedly, suddenly realizing that the dwarf woman could be his ticket out of here. She could change the odds from impossible to just a million to one.

  “I know where everything is,” she said, letting her lips curl back over her teeth, which Stone saw were filed down by the mad doctor for some reason. They were sharp and looked like they could hurt when she finally cracked and leaped at one of their necks like a wild rabid beast. “I’ve become just a thing to them. A Quasimodo who carries buckets and food, who fetches shoes and cleans and mops the halls. You don’t know how long I have waited for this day,” she said with a most determined expression on her wizened, burnt little face.

  “What’s your name?” Stone asked softly.

  “My name?” She looked confused. “I haven’t used it for so long—they never call me by my name.” She had to think for a few seconds and then a smile crossed her face, a strong real smile for the first time since Stone had seen her. “Elizabeth,” she said. “Elizabeth Hopkins.”

  “And a nice name it is,” Stone said, holding out his hand. “I don’t think we were ever formally introduced. Martin Stone, and—”

  “And Excaliber,” she said quickly. “I know all about you two. As I said I can go everywhere—even into the Dwarf’s private information files. I’m like a flea beneath contempt or notice. I’ve read the dossiers on many people who have passed through here. Yours was one of the largest. He hates you, Stone. Hates you more than anything in this world. He truly believes that when you’re dead there will be nothing left that can stand in his way to total domination. And with you gone, and the Tribunal’s control of the space missile systems, they’ll—”

  “Whoa, hold it right there,” Stone said, holding his hands up. “The missile systems—what do you mean by that?”

  “I thought you knew.” She laughed. “I guess there’s no reason to think that. In my mind, as I read about you over the last few months I guess you became my—” she blushed and looked up shyly like a young girl. “Heroes know all.”

  “Oh Christ,” Stone groaned. “Please, no hero stuff. I’m too fucked up myself. Too many vices, neuroses and cowardices lurking in these bones.”

  “Anyway,” she went on, looking nervously at the door and then back again. “Aside from this complex being a survival operation, it was also the control center of the entire Star Wars missile defense system. That includes over a hundred atomic missiles that can be targeted on any part of the Earth. From controls down here in this station they can launch anywhere, anytime. They are going after nothing less than world control. Like Hitler all over again. The Ten Hitlers. And with the missiles, as I’m sure you can imagine, they’ll be able to take out anyone who gets in their way. There will be thousands, hundreds of thousands like them—and me. A world of freaks and burning ruins. That is their vision. And that is why I will help you—to destroy them. I only pray that I get to drive the stake into the Dwarf bastard’s heart. I ask only that you give me that pleasure if God help us we ever get that far.”

  “You’ve got it,” Stone said, hardly able to speak, feeling the sheer waterfall of hatred inside the twisted woman.

  “Now tell me what do you need? Quickly, I’ve got to get out of here. If they catch me with you I’m dead on the spot.”

  “All right,” Stone said, dropping to one knee and placing his hand gently on her shoulder. She wasn’t used to being touched, just hit. And the contact made her pull back for a moment.

  “I’m a monster and shouldn’t be touched,” she said, turning her face away in shame.

  “I’ve seen worse,” Stone said. “Now, I need a map of this place—of particularly April’s room, the missile command, the Dwarf’s quarters—and a way out. Preferably alternate routes to all of
these places as well. Any weapons storage you’ve seen. And if you can get me a pistol, anything like that. But the map is most important. If I know where I’m going—at least I won’t be traveling blind.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said, slipping away from him and aiming the transmitter at the door, which whooshed open. She looked both ways quickly up and down the hall and then was gone. The door started to close behind him. Stone had the sheerest instant of wanting to leap through the opening and get out of this claustrophobic place. But he wasn’t ready—he had to have the map. He stared back at the now sealed wall and just sat and waited. And he wondered if the fate of America itself rested on the twisted shoulders of an old dwarf woman.

  CHAPTER

  Eighteen

  WHEN Elizabeth came the next morning with food, but with the guards present behind her, she winked at Stone as she handed him his usual bowls and water for him and the pit bull.

  “The Dwarf said to give you an extra serving today,” she said. “With all the trimmings.” She handed over the extra plastic container and then stood up. “You’ll be missing dinner tonight, for you have a three o’clock appointment with—”

  “Shut up, dwarf bitch,” one of the greenshirts shouted, kicking out at her with his boot. The blow sent the dwarf woman flying sideways with a strange sound coming from her throat. Before any of them could move an inch Excaliber launched himself into the air and fastened his teeth around the offending boot, dragging the guard down onto the floor where the bull terrier proceeded to shake the living shit out of the dwarf kicker.

  “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” the man on the floor screamed out at his companion, who was trying to get a bead with his 9mm. “The Dwarf will kill us both if either of them are harmed.”

  “Get off him, Excaliber,” Stone shouted, reaching down and pulling the dog up by its tail and one back leg and dragging it backwards. It released the boot with some reluctance. The greenshirt was trembling and staring at them both with hate-filled eyes. It was clear he wanted nothing more on this Earth than to be able to blast them into non-existence at that very moment. But he couldn’t.

  “Let’s go,” he screamed at Elizabeth, who had already gotten up from the concrete floor and was heading toward the door. She smiled quickly at Stone as if to let him know that she was okay; indeed, she had suffered a lot worse than that. This time neither guard laid a hand on her. Stone waited until the door had shut and then waited another thirty seconds just to make sure that there wasn’t going to be some sort of sudden peek-a-boo. He gave the dog its chow, not wanting a stampede, then opened the extra bowl.

  His eyes glistened with hope. A long icepick, industrial strength, solid as a rock, and a good twelve inches long. Nasty and lethal as a hand weapon could get. And next to it, crudely drawn on a piece of white linen used for the Tribunal tablecloth, she had drawn a map of the different levels and the locations of the places Stone had requested, plus a few more. Like where the boiler system was, the Dwarf’s secret emergency exit, little things like that. She’d come through like a pro. It felt good to heft the icepick and stab out at the air a few times, testing the weight and balance of the wood-handled weapon. He could hide it in his sleeve, and then whip it out in a flash. Possibly not even be noticed handling the weapon if he moved quickly. Next to a machine gun it was the perfect choice.

  Stone had a few hours before the blessed event, and he found himself growing increasingly edgy. The dog too somehow knew something was very nearly up. Not that it minded a good fight, just that it didn’t like the unknown. And it could sense Stone’s discomfort and anxiety as he paced around fast trying to figure it all out. But there was nothing to figure out. Stone had to go into battle—and most likely he was going to die. And take the dog down with him. He tried to calm down, yet couldn’t. It was one thing to fight when someone suddenly came at you. It was another to worry about it all morning and into the afternoon like a fighter going into the ring. Elizabeth had doubtless been trying to be helpful in telling him the time. But it was grating on him now like a dull razor cutting across his nerves.

  Suddenly the door whooshed open and this time four guards stood at the entrance. One handed him a muzzle.

  “Put it on the dog, now.” He motioned with his 9mm, slamming the barrel into Stone’s stomach, who didn’t appreciate the gesture at all and got a good look at the bastard’s face, hoping they’d meet up again under better circumstances. Stone put the muzzle around Excaliber’s mouth, who pulled back from the thing. The dog hated being muzzled but he allowed Stone to proceed, knowing somehow he had to for some weird human reason. With the muzzle on, the guards led Stone and the mutt down the long corridor to the far end of the level and the elevator banks. Stone tried to memorize everything and fit it into the schematic that he had spent hours going over all afternoon until he felt like it was drilled into his head. It better be if he got the chance to test it out. One wrong turn in this twisting puzzle of corridors and seamless walls and he’d be as lost as a retarded rat in a maze.

  They took them down two levels in a wide freight elevator and then marched out again down the corridor. Two immense black steel doors were already pulled back and Stone was led inside. It was the biggest of all the chambers he’d been in since being underground. Not just wide, but high too, going up nearly sixty feet. On all four sides of the hundred foot square beginning about twenty feet up were rows of seats behind thick bulletproof glass. Stone suddenly got the message. This was the football of the psycho set. The Dwarf and his pals kept their underlings happy with a little controlled blood letting. So he was Superbowl Sunday—him and the dog. He scouted around and saw the ten freaks, staring down at him through tinted blue glass. They were in good moods, drinking and laughing, gesticulating with their claws and stumps. Stone saw the Dwarf among them, staring down. He wasn’t moving but just still as a rock as if in a trance. Across the floor from the ten were the rest of the military crew, rows of greenshirts all jumping around behind their glass partitions. They were usually subdued and businesslike around the subterranean headquarters, but here they were allowed to let it all hang out. And they where whooping it up, screaming for his blood. Stone had a lot of fans out there.

  “I think they like us,” he lied to the pit bull after the guards had pulled back and the wall was once again as flat as a sheet of glass around the entire square. Stone felt for the icepick rigged up with some thread he had taken from his slacks and wrapped around the thing. It was hanging loosely so he could whip forward with his hand and it would slide right into his palm, then back again if he reversed the flicking motion of the wrist. Or so it had worked in the cell. Out here facing God knew what was something else. Stone made a quick onceover of the place but didn’t see a single opening or crack in the lining.

  Then he heard the low hum of the pneumatic systems of the main Games door operating and a ten foot section of the arena pulled back. There was just darkness on the other side and Stone strained his eyes to see as he pulled back instinctively. Then he saw them, darting forward into the bright light cast down from dozens of spots above. Two mastiffs, the largest of the species he’d ever seen. They could have been the brothers of the Hound of the Basker-villes, standing a good five feet at the shoulders. Stone estimated their weight at two-fifty plus, more like small lions than dogs. Even Excaliber made a low sound that got caught in his throat and stepped behind Stone like a kid behind his older brother when the neighborhood gang shows up. Only Stone had the same idea about the dog.

  The crowds above cheered wildly and Stone could hear them even through the two inch thick Plexiglas. The mastiffs slowed down as they trotted around to see just what the hell was going on. Even dinosaur-sized dogs with teeth that could have done construction work liked to check out the situation. And seeing what it was, they both seemed to laugh canine-style, snorting up a storm and bumping into each other as they jumped around in some sort of ritual dance. Stone got the feeling they’d done this sort of thing before, which didn’t encou
rage him greatly.

  The pit bull growled at his heels as it kept looking up at Stone, wanting to know what the plan was as the two monsters pawed at the cement preparing to make their move. But Stone had no plan. Or he thought he had no plan until the mastiffs, who looked like they should have been guarding the royal tomb at Thebes, came charging from across the floor. Then Stone turned and ran like a sprinter, with the pit bull right at his heels. With some firepower it would be a different story. But the dogs didn’t seem like they would be open to any sympathetic pleadings to let him go out and buy a few. Stone tore straight to the far wall until he was about ten feet away. At the last second he turned and saw the right hand mastiff just yards behind him and ready to leap. He slowed slightly and let the thing get right up to him, sensing just when it was going to leave the floor.

  Just as Stone was about to slam right into the wall he suddenly threw himself down to the cement, taking a hard hit on his shoulder. But the mastiff, which had launched itself at his head, took an even harder hit as its own head slammed into the wall of steel at about thirty miles an hour. The mastiff came sliding down the side of the wall on top of Stone but was too spaced out to do more than make sputtering sounds and quiver. Stone pushed with all his might and slid out from beneath the oppressive weight. As he came to his feet he heard a terrible yowling a few yards away and saw Excaliber and the other mastiff, this one with a gold coat almost like a lion’s, going at it hot and heavy. At least the mastiff was trying to go at it but the pit bull with its penchant for tactics and fucking with the other animal’s head had grabbed hold of the canine’s back left paw and kept dragging it backwards. The mastiff was hopping around like a kangaroo who’d drunk Super Test, unable to get a good footing and stop itself from being dragged, no matter what it did. Of course once Excaliber stopped he was in a shitload of trouble. But he wasn’t thinking about stopping.