Stone stifled the impulse to start screaming his lungs out as it hadn’t done too much good the last few times other than hurt his throat. He was in the Tribunal Chamber, only instead of its dark and judgmental tones, it was lit up and decorated with streamers and ornaments all over the walls. The rest of the freaks sat in various chairs and couches in a circle around the stage which had been erected for the event. Tables were filled with food and drink, the usual retinue of unclothed and semi-clothed women were there. Stone was clearly in the “in” crowd. He looked down and saw that he was wearing a tux as well. They’d stripped him down and gotten him totally reclothed in full wedding regalia. And he was strapped as usual to a metal chair feet, arms, chest, everything. He couldn’t move an inch, other than his head.
“Ah, Stone,” the Dwarf said from the platform as he turned away from gazing on the stoned beauty of April, who gazed ahead, clearly on another planet.
“Dwarf, you’re not really going through with this— wedding, are you?” Stone asked, knowing full well the answer, but not being able to stomach it.
“Go through with it?” the Dwarf shrieked. “We’ve been waiting for you to become conscious, they gave you a little too much gas. Why look, half my guests are already asleep.” Stone saw that indeed six of the freaks were already stoned out of their minds, lying in their recliners with mouths open and drool and slime dripping on everything.
“And now you are back among the living, so we may proceed. Priest, please,” the Dwarf motioned. A frazzled-looking old man with hair white as snow all tousled up on top of his head came stumbling out from behind a curtain. He wore a religious frock, only this one had studs, obscene writing and graffiti all over it. The “priest” looked at the Dwarf and appeared about ready to faint.
“What’s wrong, padre?” the Dwarf asked, standing tall on his stumps in the wheelchair. “You look tired.”
“Sorry, Mr. Dwarf, I’m not feeling well—the trip from Colbranch was hard and long. We were attacked and—”
“My men did not treat you well?” the Dwarf asked, the color starting to redden in his corpse-like pasty cheeks.
“Oh no, Mr. Dwarf, I mean yes, Mr. Dwarf,” the priest stuttered, terrified by the eggman and the rest of the freaks. “They treated me very well, very well.”
“Good, good,” Dwarf said. “Then we may begin. Now, first you definitely are a priest, I mean ordained and all that?” Dwarf asked.
“Well, I was once, before the collapse and—”
“Before the collapse, that’s all I want to know,” the Dwarf said. “That in the eyes of the dead laws of the U.S. means that it’s all legal. For my forebears will rule and I don’t want any problems with any contenders challenging the legality of my marriage or the birth of my children down the line. You understand?”
“Uh yes, I—understand. So you’re going to marry the girl sitting here?” the priest asked, hardly able to believe his eyes. Why had he let the slime talk him into coming? The money they had offered—twenty pieces of silver. It was a fortune. But now it hardly seemed enough.
“Yes I’m going to marry the girl,” the Dwarf shrieked back. “Any problems with that? Who the hell else did you think was going to marry her?”
“Oh sorry, sorry, sorry Mr. Dwarf.” The priest looked around to see just what his chances were of fleeing right out of the place. None. Guards stood at every wall, in full honor guard at the Dwarf’s wedding. He was here for the duration. The priest suddenly smiled his widest, most forced fake smile at the Dwarf, an expression he had used successfully many times before in dealing with the general public.
“Ah good, good, now everything is all straightened out, is it?” the Dwarf laughed, motioning with his right stump for an underling to hand the priest some papers. “These are the words you will read,” the Dwarf said. “And then I will give her this ring.” He held up an immense diamond between his two stumps and spun it around. The priest pitied the poor girl sitting there drugged like a zombie. But he wasn’t going to sacrifice his life. There was nothing he could do.
“Yes of course,” the priest said, taking the papers. He took out some spectacles from his chest pocket and put them on, reading the words down the page. “Oh, I don’t think—”
“Of course you can,” the Dwarf said quickly. “Of course you can. Not let’s get on with it.”
“I… I…” the priest’s hand shook, holding the paper in it. He still believed somewhere inside of him in God, even though he was a charlatan. It frightened him in his very soul to commit the sacrilege that the Dwarf wanted him to by reading the blasphemous words. The Dwarf motioned with his head and one of his elite bodyguards who were always near him walked the two yards to the priest, who stood in the middle of the stage and held his 9mm up against the man’s temple. He took off the safety with a loud click. The priest gulped hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like a plumber’s plunger.
“All right, I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” he choked out, seeing his wife and children dead without him—or very happy with the twenty silver pieces he would bring home. Conscience could only go so far in the new world.
“Good. Excellent,” the Dwarf said, holding out his stump. “Hold my hand, dear,” he smiled sweetly at April, whose head turned slowly like a robot, on rusty gears.
“Yes dear, I will hold your hand,” she echoed, reaching out and taking hold of the purple red stump. Then she turned her head back again, looking straight ahead.
“Dearly ugly and diseased,” the priest began, halting on every word that came from his mouth. “We are gathered here today to give Dwarf a breeding bitch. One who will bring him a boy child into this world who will someday rule over all the lands, from sea to burning sea.” The Dwarf had a wide smile on his squashed face and Stone suddenly started screaming again in spite of himself. He couldn’t stand to see this happening. It was worse than his worse nightmare. He had failed her, had failed his whole family. And now was being forced to watch the final humiliation. But even as he screamed and the priest stopped and looked up startled, one of the greenshirts rushed over and slammed a gag around Stone’s mouth, cutting the sound off.
Once order had been restored the priest continued on. “Let it hereforth be known that April Stone shall have two years to produce a freak man child. All female children shall be destroyed at birth. As will all normal male children. Only a freak boy like Dwarf himself shall live. He shall be the Dwarf’s only legitimate offspring with there being no other claims to the leadership of the NAUASC council.” The Dwarf’s smile seemed to grow even wider as he sat in his wheelchair like the cat who had just swallowed the rat. “If April Stone does not produce the required freak child, this marriage shall be considered null and void and Dwarf shall be free to choose another breeding bitch.”
The priest paused and seemed to look up at the metal ceiling as if begging God for forgiveness for his reading of the black ceremony. But he went on.
“And now—will the bride please recite the following words.”
“Dear,” the Dwarf said, shaking his stump within her hand. “The man wants you to say some words.”
“Yes, I shall say some words,” she said, turning toward the priest with a dead expression.
“I, April Stone do hereby swear—”
“I, April Stone do hereby square,” she said, not quite getting it right as she slurred her words from the effects of the tranquilizer that had been pumped into her for two weeks now.
“To serve the Dwarf and only the Dwarf.”
“To serve the Dwarf and honly the Dwarf.”
“And carry out his every command, even the death of my own child.”
“And carry out his every rommand, even the death of my own ch-hild.”
“And do all that I can to make the Dwarf satisfied.”
“And do all that I can to make the Dwarf sad is filed.”
“And I, Dwarf,” the priest said, turning to the armless, legless monster.
“And I, Dwarf.”
&nb
sp; “Promise to protect and obey April Stone from all others who would try to use her ovaries for reproductive purposes.”
“Promise to protect April Stone from all others who try to use her ovaries for reproductive purposes,” the Dwarf replied, looking with lovesick eyes into the dilated pupils of April.
“And I promise to give her a full two years to produce a freak boy child.”
“And shall give her a full two years to produce a freak boy child.”
“I now—pronounce you,” the priest said, going slower and slower as if he couldn’t stand to say the final words on the page. “Man and—wife. You may ki—kk-kkiss the bride.” The priest let his hand holding the paper fall to his side and his head fell down to his chest with a look of utter shame.
The Dwarf leaned over in the wheelchair and held out his puckered white lips. Stone felt himself gag but held it all back as he knew if he puked with a cloth around his mouth, he’d drown in the stuff. April turned her face under the Dwarf’s hypnotic gaze and will and their lips met. Stone could see the Dwarf’s little reptile-like tongue digging around to get between her lips, but she was so drugged out that her teeth remained closed as she stared straight at the Dwarf’s forehead. She didn’t know where she was; this was some consolation for her. But not for Martin Stone, who struggled furiously within his bounds, not even caring that he was ripping his legs and arms and wrists to shreds against the metal cables that held him down.
“Come,” the Dwarf said, pulling his face back from his bride’s and sweeping his stump around the room. “Time to eat and drink. Time to celebrate the greatest moment of the twentieth century—and the woman who shall bear the future emperor of the world.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-one
WHEN all the smooching had been done and toasts raised, Dwarf poked at the panel of his wheelchair with April walking alongside him, her hand resting on the back rest of the chair. The eggman headed off the prefab stage and down a ramp along one side to join his fellow freaks. They were sloshing down everything in sight into misshapen mouths, scaled and burned hands squeezing tight on glasses and young breasts. The priest remained standing there alone on the stage not sure what he was supposed to do next. He could hardly bear to look at the mob of freaks below him or at the woman he had just hitched to the mini-monster.
“Priestie,” the Dwarf shouted up from the floor below. “It was decreed in my dream vision that the priest who married me to my anointed one was not to ever perform another ceremony. This is to be the last.” The priest got a nervous look on his already heavily sweating face.
“You mean I can’t perform marriages, or funerals or—”
“Exactly,” the Dwarf said, letting a nasty smile dance across his face. Stone, who watched it all from across the room, had never seen the Dwarf so happy. Clearly, marrying his sister had done wonders for the monster’s mood. “And though I’m sure you could promise me that you wouldn’t—and you might even try not to,” the Dwarf went on, “somewhere along the line you would fail, being only human like all of us. Therefore,” the eggman continued as he leaned over in the wheelchair and poised him left stump above a red button, “although I surely do appreciate the long distance and the many dangers you underwent to get here—I must terminate you. Goodbye.” The goodbye was said almost sweetly, for the Dwarf did appreciate this day, would always remember it and treasure it in his heart. But the dream demanded it.
He stabbed down at the button and a great white arc of electricity shot down from the ceiling and ripped through the priest’s head, down through his body and into the floor. Stone’s eyes grew wide, and for the first time in the last hour he stopped struggling within the steel chair as he watched the bolts of megawatts rip into the body. The man was instantly dancing around wildly like a puppet attached to a jackhammer. His mouth was horribly contorted in a wide scream but no sound came out as his arms flung out and around like a boxer who can’t decide what to hit.
But he only pogo-sticked around for about ten seconds. Then plumes of smoke began rising up from his mouth and ears, all the orifices of his body, thick and nauseating, filling the air above him with a cloud of his own smoldering flesh. Suddenly flames appeared all over him and the priest continued to dance around, only on fire now. Within seconds every square inch of him was rippling with blue flames. Even the electric chair didn’t burn its occupants into something left in a broiler all afternoon.
The flaming thing just kept burning and lurching around a few square feet, unable to escape the clutching pull of the supercurrent. It burned until there was nothing to consume anymore and then the charred bones of the corpse crumbled like old charcoal down onto the floor. The electric bolts shot into the pile of what had been a man for another few seconds, grinding even that up into finer dust. When Dwarf pushed his stump at the off button there was nothing left except an ink black powder almost as fine as sand spread out all around the stage atop a burnt rug, which had covered the steel plating beneath.
The other freaks applauded and lauded the Dwarf from out of their drunkenness, screaming out their compliments at the afternoon’s entertainment. Once again the Dwarf hadn’t failed them. Stone glared at the eggman through itching eyes as some of the smoke of the dead man had wafted into his face and irritated his eyes, which were watering up like little geysers now.
The festivities went on for nearly four hours. The Dwarf left the dust on the stage, feeling it was part of the day’s aesthetic. At last as nearly all of the freaks had passed out or vomited so many times that they had to be taken off to the medical section, Dwarf appeared to tire as well.
“Well, I guess that even the happiest of occasions must end,” he said, addressing the assemblage though only two of the freaks were still there or able to listen, and they waved glasses back and forth in front of their hideous faces. “So adieu, adieu old friends and now I shall retire with—my bride.”
“Yeah,” a reptile face screamed out, throwing his scaled hand down over his groin area. “Give it to her good, Dwarf. Make her scream.”
“Oh, you’ll be hearing us tonight,” the jaundice-faced groom said, throwing his brandy glass toward the stage and the still smoldering ashes of the priest. He flung it with both stumps like a seal trying to dump a rotten fish. It flew out from the purple appendages only a foot or so where it smashed into pieces on the concrete. “Come dear,” he said slurring as he leaned over and addressed April. “Let us retire to our—honeymoon suite.”
“Yes—our honeymoon,” April echoed as she walked along behind the Dwarf, who aimed his chair toward one of the exits, where his private elevator was waiting to whisk them to his full-level living quarters.
“What about Stone?” his chief of internal security asked as Dwarf passed him at the door.
“I’ve no more need for him,” the Dwarf hiccupped drunkenly. “Give him to Dr. Kerhausen, he wants him for some crazy experiment.” Then the Dwarf was gone from Stone’s view—and his sister as well.
“Come on scum, it’s the end of the road for you,” a greenshirt said pushing the chair, which had wheels beneath it, along down the corridor. He chuckled as he wheeled it, apparently amused by the day’s events—and what was about to befall Stone. “He’s a brilliant man, Dr. Kerhausen is,” the greenshirt said. “You’re going to be a very lucky man to be part of such a—” Again he began laughing, and then managed to sputter out the words, “medical experiment.” He wheeled Stone into one of the freight elevators and then up several levels and into the doctor’s medical facilities.
Stone could see straight ahead, and he didn’t like this room at all—with men cut up and sewn together again lying on stretchers all over the place like discarded dolls. Then he saw an empty operating table with equipment all around it, and life support machines beeping. Two medical techs were standing by with white gowns already on. And next to the bed—already unconscious and strapped down to a second table—was Excaliber. Stone’s eyes really filled with tears now. Had they had already killed the
dog? It wasn’t moving at all.
“Here, here now,” Dr. Kerhausen said as he stepped from behind a blinking contraption. “I told you we would meet again, that our fates were intertwined. And that time is now. I want you to know that I am honored to share this moment with you and shall always think fondly of you.” Stone sputtered but with a gag in his mouth not a hell of a lot came out.
“Yes, yes, I know you have so much to say before you go. But unfortunately there is no time for words, just for cutting. All the facilities are ready. Let us begin.” Dr. Kerhausen tied on his surgical gown and then slid on rubber gloves. As he put them on, two of the dozen gowned assistants took Stone’s chair and fiddled with it. Stone prepared himself to come out fighting were there the slightest opportunity. But they didn’t give him one, pushing a button so the chair straightened out flat beneath him and then lifting it up onto the operating table with him now stretched out on it. And for the first time Stone had to really be honest with himself—that there was no way out. He couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop this maniac from cutting him to ribbons. Two of them began slicing his clothes right from his body, careful not to cut the skin. Within seconds he was stark naked on the table and shivering with cold metal beneath his back and legs.
“Is the video camera and the recorder on?” Kerhausen asked one of the already masked assistants who stood waiting around the table. “I want this to be recorded for all posterity—no hitches. This operation will be as history making—as the Wright Brothers flight. For with men and beasts mixed together as one, new kinds of workers will be able to be created. Man/Beasts with the intelligence of homo sapiens—but the brute strength of the animal.” He was ranting louder as if acting out a scene in front of an audience of thousands. The video was checked several times, camera mounted on a clamp on the ceiling looking straight down so it could note every little slice.
Is This The End? Page 14