Is This The End?

by Craig Sargent

  Suddenly Stone heard a fierce growling from just behind him and turned to see that the knocked-out mastiff who had been on his ass seconds before wasn’t knocked out anymore. Its eyes were focused and it was up on all fours, pointing its teeth at him like a hundred spears ready to enter flesh. Stone rushed a few feet off, sliding along the wall as he shook his right hand with the icepick in it, and it flew up into his palm. He was proud of himself, the contraption worked like a charm. Now he just had to make like a bullfighter and lure the dog toward him, make it jump at exactly the right angle.

  Just as it leaped into the air straight at his face Stone stepped to the side away from the wall. Snapping out with the icepick but hiding the handle completely so it couldn’t be seen from the peanut gallery above, he ripped it toward the dog’s face with the same speed that it was coming up. Its jaws opened and closed at the hand but missed and the tip of the icepick slid right into the corner of the dog’s left eye, all the way to the hilt. Stone heard a sharp squeal and then ripped the pick back out again, hiding it beneath the sleeve as the dog sailed past. It came down cold stone dead, hitting the floor on its tail and sliding along like it had a stick of butter up its ass. It came to a stop about fifteen feet away with a trickle of red sliding out of its eye and over the golden face.

  Above him Stone saw a commotion as some of the crowd were screaming that he was using a weapon. But the Dwarf didn’t budge from his death trance as he stared down. Stone would get to keep the icepick. Stone turned and sighted up the pit bull, who was just about losing it with the paw and pull contest. Suddenly the mastiff threw itself down onto its side, ripping the foot free with all its might. The great momentum of the mastiff put too great a strain on the tendons and bone of such a mighty dog, for the pit bull didn’t let go an inch, but tightened its jaws just as the mastiff spun over. The huge dog’s whole right paw and about four inches of leg came off in the pit bull’s mouth. Excaliber fell backwards as it had been pulling so hard.

  The mastiff let out a howl of mortal pain that seemed to thrill the crowd above and made them forget about Stone’s illegal weapon. He saw his chance and while the mastiff was dragging itself along on three legs plus a bloody stump that left a trail of sticky red behind it as it hobbled after the pit bull, Stone snuck up behind it. Excaliber sensed what Stone had in mind and lured the mastiff on, keeping just out of its range. The killer kept lunging forward, but it was in pitiful shape now with just three legs, not even able to judge quite how to walk anymore. Stone dove through the air as he saw the dog’s attention was fully focused on the pit bull. He came down on the creature’s back and stabbed the ice pick into the center of its skull. The sharp point of the pick sank cleanly in like a knife into butter and Stone pushed with all his might until he couldn’t push any further. Then he twisted and turned it all around like an Italian mother stirring a spaghetti sauce.

  The mastiff struggled violently, trying to snap at Stone’s hand. But the pit bull charged in and grabbed it around the throat, holding it down while Stone ripped the pick free and then sank it in again—and again. In a few more seconds it was over. Blood covered the floor for yards around as the animal’s skull had fractured in places and was oozing red from fissures in the bone. Stone stood up as the crowd above booed and stomped angrily. He bowed first to them and then to the Dwarf. The Dwarf’s mouth was set into a fixed cheshire cat of a smile, and he nodded slowly. Behind him, Stone heard the door opening.

  CHAPTER

  Nineteen

  IF Stone had thought the Tribunal of Ten not to be the greatest looking guys, the two men walking out of the darkness of the tunnel were nightmares. Besides the fact that they were seven feet tall plus a few inches and had arms that should have had leaves on them and been in the ground—they both had extra appendages. One a third arm coming out of the center of its chest, and the other an extra leg that came out behind it at the base of the spine. All the extra baggage seemed to be in perfect working condition as far as Stone could see as the two strode in. Not that they needed it, but each had weapons in addition to his innate bull strength. The three-legged one carried a long sword that must have run six feet from stem to stern and a car door sized shield, while the three-armed one carried two machete-like blades and a net in the extra hand. All in all, between them they looked like it would take a whole division to subdue them. But Stone looked around and saw only himself and the dog.

  As he had done with the mastiffs he pulled back as far away as he could from the two mutant men. They were known to the crowd, for when they raised their arms to the glass screens above the greenshirts went wild. Mickey Mantle, Wilt Chamberlain and Joe Namath all rolled up into two hunks of overmuscled flesh. At last when they’d had enough of their strutting and preening for the masses, they hefted their weapons and set out to take care of business. Stone and the dog reached the far wall and there was nowhere else to go. As the two reconstituted fighters came tearing ass across the cement floor Stone pushed Excaliber in the opposite direction from him along the wall.

  “Run boy, let’s split them in two—keep moving. Go!” The pit bull looked at the two rolling mountains coming their way and took off along the steel wall moving like a rocket. Stone ripped off the other way pumping his legs as fast as they would carry him. Both of them just got the angle right so the two NAUASC fighters came barreling right by them. Both men having such mass took yards to stop and nearly slammed into the wall. It took them a full ten seconds to get themselves all rearranged and set for a charge again. It was like fighting elephants rather than men. But on the other hand Stone could use their great momentum and long stopping time to his advantage.

  He halted when he reached the far wall and saw Excaliber already there waiting for him, tongue huffing and almond eyes looking up asking what the hell next, Chow Boy? Only Chow Boy had nothing more to offer than what he had just done. Run—and try to sneak a sucker punch in on the bastard.

  “Split up again, dog—meet you on the other side.” He waited until the two giants were halfway across again, sword and machetes spinning in the air, then Stone screamed “Go!” and they both took off. He started right along the wall again knowing the three-legged one would think he was going to go the same way he had a minute before. The mutation changed his angle, heading to cut Stone off at the pass, but the would-be victim altered his own course with the turn of an ankle and shot by on the inside of the flailing bruiser. As he crouched down the giant’s long sword flew by right above him. Stone ripped the icepick from his sleeve and stabbed it hard into the thing’s leg. He had been aiming for thigh muscle, but hit the kneecap, which was just fine with Stone. As the man mountain flew by Stone ripped the pick out again and then ran forward all the way back to the wall as the three-armer let out a howl of pain and had to slow down a little as its right leg started looking a little wobbly.

  “All right,” Stone hissed under his breath as he ran. He had actually hurt the bastard. As he turned his head away for a few seconds, knowing it was going to take a little time for the big fellow to get his act together, Stone saw that the three-armer was having his own devil of a time really getting a handle on the pit bull too. It seemed like the dog was always just within reach of his two machetes and suddenly it was gone. Twice he threw the net and missed completely as the dog almost seemed to mock him, trying to get him angry. But on the third throw of the net the dog misjudged slightly and got its hindquarters caught in the thin steel mesh. The three-armed fighter came in for the kill, slamming down both machetes toward the canine as if ready to skewer it for the cooking fire. Somehow the dog flew up from the concrete trying to out-race the descending steel blades. He did, just barely. As both two-foot-long blades ripped down the pit bull flew in under them and straight up into the face of the three-armer. He snapped hold around the giant’s lower face, sinking canines deep into already twisted cheek and mouth and nose tissue.

  Still, even mutant giants don’t like having their faces turned into bloodburgers. The three-armed fighter flailed
up at the dog and managed to slash it hard right along the neck. The animal dropped the hold sensing a second strike and rolled over backwards a few times, spinning out a spiral of blood as it flew.

  “Oh Christ,” Stone muttered, his stomach dropping down to his knees. But the dog hit the ground and was moving fast. Stone saw that the blood flow was bad but not fatal—not yet. But his momentary distraction by the dog’s actions had made him forget for a few seconds that the other one was still kicking. And he had gotten himself going a little quicker than Stone expected, for suddenly there was a whistling sound coming straight at his head and Stone, pulling back as he turned to see what it was, sighted the three-legger’s sword coming posthaste. The split-second warning enabled him to pull back from the blow—but only partially. The edge of the sword slid into the side of his chest. It sliced down across three or four ribs leaving a half inch deep gash before the blade continued past him and cracked into the concrete floor, sending sparks flying everywhere.

  Stone waited a fraction of a second to see if he was dead or alive. Discovering that he was still standing, he shot off sideways and managed to just avoid the back thrust of the blade. Now he’d definitely gotten the sucker mad and three-leg came tearing at him, hobbling along on the ice-picked knee. Stone walked quickly backwards as if in a walking race in the wrong direction. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the killer a second time. There wouldn’t be a third. He heard a dreadful howl and didn’t know if it was Excaliber or the three-armer. And he sure as hell didn’t have time to look.

  Suddenly his back was against the wall and the thing was there like a charging rhino. Stone barely managed to sidestep the blow but even as he ripped out to do some damage with the pick, the third leg, which he had somehow forgotten about, came flying up. It was aimed at his testicles, but Stone was able to pull his thigh around to take the blow. The power of the kick sent him slamming into the metal wall and then bouncing right off it and past the giant. Stone was unconscious for a fraction of a second but made himself come to fast. Even his unconscious knew there was no time to play games.

  The three-legged fighter came out swinging the sword with one hand and waving the immense chromium shield with the other, trying to hypnotize Stone with the reflections that bounced off the thing. And it was almost working. Stone had to shield his eyes as he moved away, having a hard time getting a clear view. Suddenly the sword was descending and as he shot away the shield came down like a guillotine and hit him square in the chest. He went down like the lights were going out for good and just barely managed to hang on. As he hit the cold hard floor Stone fell onto his side. He looked up through pain-dazed eyes and saw the giant looming above him like he extended up into the ceiling. The man was savoring his moment of triumph as Stone lay at his feet. He raised his sword up for the crowd’s approval, making them scream for him to begin the final descent. Only his PR stunt cost him too much time. Stone’s head cleared, enough to know that his nose was about an inch away from the dude’s huge smelly boot. Stone without even thinking about it ripped the ice-pick from his sleeve and slammed it straight into the top of the leather boot. It slid easily through the hide and down into the bone and then right through the foot.

  The three-legged fighter let out a howl and ripped up his middle foot in agony. As the leg came up Stone pulled the icepick out and rolled onto his back. Before the killer could move an inch he thrust the icepick right up into the thing’s groin, pushing with everything he had. If the howl before had been loud, this one was thunderous. The man mountain jumped backwards, throwing his sword and shield to the floor as he grabbed at his torn genitalia. He screamed as he bounced backward like a yo-yo gone haywire until he slammed into the wall. He fell there on his side like a beached whale and made mewing sounds as his whole body went into shock.

  Stone tore his attention back behind him where he held one of the strangest things he’d ever seen. The pit bull had somehow gotten the three-armed one in a clamp bite around one ear. But the man was holding the pit bull in the air a good six feet off the ground with two of its three arms. Yet it couldn’t throw the dog or the whole ear would come off. The third arm was reaching around for the machete it had dropped on the ground when the dog had taken half of his face off. Stone reached down and hefted the immense sword the three-legger had dropped. It was hard to even carry as it must have weighed eighty pounds plus, not exactly ideal weight for a sword. Stone gripped the thing with both hands and tore as fast as his shaking legs could carry him across the bloody arena.

  Three-arms had just found his blade and was about to bring it up into the pit bull’s guts when Stone’s blunderbuss of steel sliced down right at the elbow. The third arm fell from the mutation’s chest and dropped to the ground where it lay there spasming, the fingers opening and closing around the handle of the weapon. Suddenly three-arm decided he didn’t give a shit about his ear after all and heaved the dog with all his might back against the wall. Excaliber went soaring a good nine feet off the ground, ear and all in his mouth, trailing bloody tendrils and veins. The giant turned toward Stone with red cascading down the side of his face. He was so pissed off now he seemed oblivious to the pain, and with a roar worthy of King Kong on a bad night, he leaped at Stone who, not being prepared for such speed and anger, didn’t have time to bring the sword up again.

  Before he knew it the weapon was flying from his hands and both remaining arms of the beastman were around him. The thing lifted him in a bear hug, the ripped ugly face only inches from his own. The breath alone made Stone want to surrender. But it was his own breath he was more concerned about as it was being squeezed out of him as if in the grip of a python. There was no way in hell he could break the hold. Stone could feel the vertebrae along his back bending in and threatening to crack in the not too distant future as the pressure grew tremendous.

  Stone felt something digging hard into his neck. He reached over and touched the pen gun that he’d bought. It was a gun—you just had to turn it. Turn it, turn it! His brain was already going out from lack of oxygen, everything gray and strange with a blue outline around it all. Stone knew he had less than a second or two. He lifted his hand up so the tip of the mini-gun slammed right up against the mess of scarred flesh that was the forehead. Then he turned the thing hard.

  There was a sharp crack, and for a second or two the arms didn’t release around him but seemed to grow even tighter. Stone slipped into blackness for an instant. But just as quickly the arms loosened slowly like a mother releasing her child against her will. Stone’s eyes opened and he saw a tiny red hole dead center of the giant’s head with pink stuff leaking out of front and back. Then the arms fell away completely and the fighter staggered backwards, did a pirouette and then fell over, slamming his face into a pulp as he hit the concrete. He never felt it.

  Stone wearily picked himself up off the floor and took a look over at three-legs. He wasn’t doing too hot either. He didn’t seem to be exactly dead, but just rolling around on the floor making sounds like a hyena in heat. Stone walked over to Excaliber, who was sitting bone-tired with a little pool of blood collecting below his chest where the sliced neck was still flowing freely. The dog’s eyes were bright and as Stone approached it, it looked up at him and managed a weak bark as if to say, “We kicked bukanky today, Chow Boy, and I’ll be expecting something special tonight on the dinner table.” Stone didn’t have the heart to tell the dog that if he knew the Dwarf at all there was a fair chance they wouldn’t be having dinner at all tonight. They wouldn’t be having dinner ever.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty

  STONE stood in the center of the steel-walled arena with the dead lying around him and raised his fist up at the Dwarf.

  “I won, now give me my fucking sister and let me out of here.” The Dwarf at last came out of his trance, his eyes opening wide, his stumps starting to move around frantically like they always did when he was thinking hard.

  “I never said you would win anything,” the eggman laughed into a
microphone in front of him so that his voice echoed throughout the metal room. “That was in your own mind. But I must say that I’m not all that surprised that you won. I’ve always known you were my greatest adversary since the first time we met. And in a way, I’m actually pleased. For now you can attend my wedding, be my best man—as I’d hoped. After all, I want to give the blushing bride away, Stone. It will be the core of the ceremony.”

  Stone rushed at the wall in a maddened rage and tried to scale its seamless side. It was ridiculous, he couldn’t get up higher than he could jump and then just drop down again. High above the Dwarf stabbed at the buttons of his wheelchair and the motorized war machine turned and headed out. He motioned for his underlings who milled around him like bees to get Stone prepared. Below, Stone walked back to the dog just as the door slid open and four greenshirts came in. But Stone was in no mood for any more bullshit. He reached down and grabbed hold of one of the dead fighter’s machetes and hefted it in his hand.

  “Okay assholes, who’s first?” he snarled as they came up to him in a semicircle.

  “You,” the head man smirked and whipped up a can of something. He sprayed it right into Stone’s face, who headed into bye-bye land before he could even get off a single blow. He saw the steel floor coming up at him fast and then—darkness.

  When he came to God knew how many hours later he was instantly inundated with sound and light. Stone opened his eyes, wincing as the bright light was painful. His head throbbed badly and it was hard to see anything at first. Then he did. The Dwarf was up on a platform—with April sitting just a few feet away from him with the same dazed expression she’d had the last time he saw her. The Dwarf was decked out in full tuxedo, with the arms and legs cut off so his stumps poked through. April was dressed in— Stone could hardly bear to look. It was obscene—the virginal white wedding gown that had been turned into a mockery of the institution of marriage with the chest cut open so both her breasts were pushing out. And the same around her pelvic area, and Stone was sure—the backside as well. The guy was a real joker.