1920: The Roaring Anthology

by Union Combine

  He touched Hank’s shoulder, whispered good-bye, then turned away. He made a bee-line for the exit, but Ed intercepted him.

  “I’m throwing a dinner party tonight in Hank’s honor,” Ed said, “I hope you can make it.”

  Edna slid up next to Ed. “You really must come,” she said, “Everyone will be there, and Ed will be making an important announcement.”

  “About the next picture?”

  “Yes, how did you know?” Ed asked.

  “Lucky guess,” he replied.

  “Edna is cooking. She’s an excellent cook.” Ed gave his wife a kiss on her forehead. Edna smiled, but suddenly, Chuck felt uncomfortable, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason. He excused himself and left.

  * * * * *

  Ed must’ve come from money. There was a long winding driveway that went uphill to a large stone house. There was an expensive car parked in front. Chuck entered the large marble foyer and was greeted by Edna.

  “Welcome, Chuck! So glad you could make it.”

  She lead Chuck into the living room. He saw Artie sitting on a couch talking with George the cameraman. Bert and Anne were chatting in a corner. Ed was mixing drinks. Some of the other guys were milling about, along with some of the crew. Looking around, Chuck noticed that Sofia was not in attendance.

  Ed approached Chuck and handed him a drink.

  “What’s this?” Chuck asked.

  “A little scotch,” Ed said, “In honor of Hank.”

  Chuck took the drink and sipped it. Ed went over to the fireplace that dominated the end of the room and cleared his throat.

  “Attention, please,” Ed said, raising his glass, “I have a toast to make, and an announcement.”

  The room quieted down, and Ed proceeded.

  “First, the toast,” he said, “To Hank, a great comic, a consummate professional, and a lover of life.”

  “To Hank!” Bert cried. Everyone took a sip of whatever was in their hands.

  “And now, an announcement,” Ed continued, “After going over the film we have shot, I’ve decided we have enough to finish the film. It’ll be Hank’s last picture, and I know he would’ve wanted it to be completed.”

  There was some smattering of applause. Ed smiled.

  “And now it is time to look to the future. I know Hank would also want the proud legacy of the Keystone Kops to continue, and so do I. There are going to be changes of course, but I have recently gotten approval from the studio to go forward with a new film that will take the Keystone Kops in a whole new direction!”

  “What changes?” Chuck asked.

  “Don’t worry, no one is losing their job!” Ed said, “But we can’t continue on as we have. Comedy is evolving and we need to evolve along with it, or be forgotten. This new picture is going to follow a new and proven formula. From now on, we’re going to focus on one Kop, and his efforts to solve real crimes, despite the clumsy team of Kops that assist him. Real crimes, real drama and real romance, all highlighted by the comedy that is the hallmark of the Keystone Kop films. To that end, I’d like you all to welcome the newest member of our cast, miss Anne Berry!”

  “Thank you!” Anne said, waving to everyone, “I can’t wait to work with you all.”

  “Which Kop are you going to focus on?” Chuck asked.

  “Why, Bert of course. No offense, Chuck, but the studio insisted. They felt Bert had that certain something to play the lead.”

  “He means I’m handsome,” Bert added.

  There was some laughter, but Chuck frowned. He imagined how Hank might’ve reacted to this news.

  Later, Artie got on the piano and started playing some ragtime. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and Ed brought out some champagne. People cheered when the cork popped.

  Chuck found Anne sitting on a chaise and approached her. She had a glass of champagne in one hand and was taking tiny sips with her pinky outstretched. She looked so pretty it was intimidating, and he might’ve just walked away, but she saw him coming, and fear of looking like a coward was stronger than fear of talking to a pretty girl.

  “Uh, Congratulations, Anne,” he said.

  “Thanks, Chuck!”

  “You must’ve had a great audition.”

  “I didn’t think so,” she replied, “But I guess Ed liked it well enough!”

  “I’m sure you’ll be great.”

  Anne nodded and sipped her champagne. It seemed like a dismissal of sorts, so Chuck turned away, unable to stop the suspicious thoughts that were swirling about in his mind. Anne was beautiful, there was no doubt, but he found it hard to believe she could land a leading role on good looks and a bad audition, or maybe he didn’t want to admit it. He had never been beautiful, how could he know what it’s like? Maybe it was true, pretty people get stuff handed to them for free, while people who looked like basset hounds worked hard for scraps. Or maybe Ed was sleeping with her. Or maybe she had some dirt on Ed and was blackmailing him.

  * * * * *

  After the party. Chuck lingered a while, until he was the last one there. He approached Ed and Edna.

  “Are you still here, Chuck?” Ed asked.

  “My goodness, what a long night!” Edna said. She collapsed into a chair and kicked off her high heeled shoes.

  “I’m concerned about the new direction,” Chuck said, “Hank wouldn’t have liked it.”

  “You aren’t kidding, especially when he learned about Bert taking a leading role!”

  “You mean, Hank knew?”

  “Um, yes. I told him. I knew if I could convince Hank, the rest of you would fall in line.”

  “When did you tell him?” Chuck asked. He saw Edna watching them both closely.

  “The night before he died,” Ed said.

  “After the fight with Bert?”

  “Yes.”

  Chuck nodded. He looked over at Edna.

  “You’re not always taller than Ed, are you? Do you always wear high heeled shoes?”

  “Not always,” Edna said.

  “What are you getting at, Chuck?”

  “You went over to Hank’s house that night, didn’t you? You told Hank what happened and he got upset.”

  “Easy, Chuck,” Ed said, “You don’t want to be making any accusations without proof.”

  “You’re right,” Chuck said, smiling. He saw the tension ease out of Ed’s shoulders a little bit. Chuck’s hand went into his pocket, removing the shoe heel he had found in Hank’s apartment. “I wonder though, does this look familiar to you?”

  Chuck turned to look at Edna, just in time to see her swinging a fire poker at his head.

  * * * * *

  Chuck groaned. His eyes flicked open, and he wondered where he was. His legs were cramped and his head ached fiercely. He realized he was in the backseat of a car when they hit a bump. He heard a groan, and looked to see Anne was tied up in the seat next to him. She was crying silently, big tears running down her face, running black with mascara and getting soaked up in the cloth that gagged her mouth.

  “He’s coming around,” he heard Edna say.

  “Oh thank God,” Ed said.

  “Why does it matter? If he isn’t dead now, we’re just going to have to kill him again.”

  “Not again, Edna. Please, let’s just dump him somewhere remote and flee the country.”

  “Grow a backbone, Ed! We’re nipping at the heels of success, and you want to leave it all behind?”

  “But…”

  “You promised we wouldn’t return to England as failures, and we’re bloody well not going back as criminals!”

  Chuck tried to stretch his legs, but realized his hands were tied and his feet bound together.

  Edna turned around to look at Chuck. She had a small gun and she pointed it at him. “Good morning, Chuck,” she said, “I hope you slept well?”

  “Why?”

  “For what it’s worth, it was self defense. Hank was drunk and enraged. He was going to murder Ed unt
il I stabbed him.”

  “What about me?”

  “Also self defense.”

  “What about Anne? What’s she doing here?”

  “She saw us dragging you to the car. She was going to expose us. My husband wouldn’t last in jail.”

  “Let us go.”

  “I’m afraid not, Chuck. Go back to sleep. This will be much easier on you if you’re asleep.”

  Edna turned back towards the road and Chuck inspected the knots on his arms. They were expertly tied, but he could still raise his arms.

  He leaned towards Anne and whispered in her ear, “Don’t be afraid,” as he lifted his arms and put them around her. He slid his tied hands down her back until he had them around her waist.

  “What are you doing, Chuck?” Edna asked, glaring suspiciously over her shoulder.

  In response, Chuck kicked open the side door and fell backward, letting his legs go limp and pulling Anne as close to his body as he could, he could hear her muffled scream as it tried to work it’s way through the cloth in her mouth. The door whacked him on the side of the head as they slipped out, making his ears ring. His backside hit the street, tearing into his pants and ripping skin, but he felt his bonds loosen. The weight of Anne hit him in the chest, and he felt the whoosh of air leaving his lungs. He bumped and rolled off the street, holding Anne tightly, even as the knots around his hands frayed. He tried to take the brunt of every impact in his arms and spine. They rolled down a hill and into a thorny bush. He lay there panting for a moment, Anne resting uncomfortably under one of his elbows, waiting to hear someone shout “Cut!” but hearing only the screeching sound of brakes. They would be after him soon. He rolled over onto his stomach, gently depositing Anne onto the grass, and pushed himself up, getting his bloody knees underneath him. He sat up and swayed. Anne seemed to be in shock. She lay where she was, shaking and crying. There was pain all over, in his elbows, back, neck and knees, but pain was an old friend. He took a deep breath, calmed himself and rose to his feet.

  “He’s down there!” he heard Edna cry.

  Chuck’s hands were unbound, but his feet were still wrapped in rope. He kicked and struggled with the ropes as he limped away from the sound of Edna’s voice. There was pain in his knees, and one of his ankles was throbbing, and he couldn’t move very fast.

  “Stop him!” Edna cried.

  Ed grabbed Chuck’s shoulder and spun him around. Chuck lost his balance and fell on his ass.

  “I have to hand it to you, Chuck,” Ed said, “You always did the best stunts.”

  “Don’t do this, Ed,” Chuck said, “One murder is bad enough, and if it really was self defense…”

  “I’m sorry, Chuck.”

  Edna appeared by Ed’s side, panting. “Do it, Ed.”

  “With what?”

  “Choke him out.”

  “You want me to kill him with my bare hands?”

  “Step aside,” she said, “I’ll do it.”

  A muffled scream was all the warning they had before Anne barreled into Edna, shoving her and knocking her off her feet. Ed gaped as he watched his wife do a neat backward somersault and roll a few feet away. She collapsed into a groaning heap. When Ed turned to look at Chuck, his jaw was hanging open in a way that Chuck found oddly familiar. Chuck laughed at him. Ed’s face flushed red, then he turned and ran toward his wife, shouting her name.

  Chuck took Anne’s hand and they ran, gritting his teeth through the pain. He stopped in surprise in front of Ed’s car, realizing he was running the wrong way, until he noticed that the engine was still on.

  “Get in,” he said, Anne nodded and moved towards the passenger seat.

  A gunshot rang out, and Chuck saw the glass in the car door shatter. He ducked and whirled around to see Edna advancing on them, pointing her small pistol. Another shot rang out, and Chuck felt the impact on his hip and the warmth of blood on his pants before he felt the pain, but a split second later, the pain dropped him to his knees.

  Ed was stumbling along behind his wife. She lowered the gun and took aim at Chuck’s head. Chuck closed his eyes and waited.

  He heard Edna scream, and his eyes popped open again. He saw Ed wrestling with Edna, trying to get the gun away from her.

  “What are you doing, Edward?” she cried.

  “I can’t let you do it! Not again!”

  Chuck took advantage of the situation to get into the car. He struggled to get to his feet, but the pain in his hip made his knees week. With a groan, he managed to stand, and then Anne was there, grabbing him by the hand and helping him up. She led him to the other side of the car and was helping him in when they heard the gun go off again.

  Ed was sitting next to Edna, the gun still smoking in his hand. Edna was lying down, half propped up by her elbow, the other hand clutched to her chest, trying to hold back the blood that was spreading across her blouse.

  “Edward. You shot me.”

  “I’m sorry, darling,” Ed said, “I don’t want to be a murderer.”

  “You failed again,” she said, then her head dropped to the ground and she died. Ed let out a sob.

  “Let’s go,” Anne said as she slid behind the wheel of Ed’s car.

  * * * * *

  They had no idea where they were, so a few minutes later, when Chuck saw a small diner on the side of the road, he told Anne to pull over.

  With one arm around Anne for support, they entered the diner. All conversation stopped and all that could be heard was the clatter of a fork on a platter when he stumbled inside, dirty, bruised and his trousers soaked in blood.

  A waitress sat them down on at a booth and the owner called the police.

  “Are you all right, mister?” the waitress asked him.

  Chuck nodded. She looked him over a moment, then asked, “Aren’t you one of them Keystone Kops?”

  “Yes I am,” Chuck replied.

  “Do you know Charlie Chaplin?” she asked.

  Chuck grinned madly, he couldn’t help it. He thought of Hank before he replied.

  “Charlie Chaplin is a sissy!”

  Poltergeist

  The plane wobbled and began to falter over the fields of eastern Long Island. An M1919 Browning machine gun had decimated the luxury seaplane. The pilot tried to keep the plane true, but it was useless. He glanced over at the left wing and saw it, the thing that had destroyed the plane and sealed his fate. It was a figure dressed head to toe in all black, a cape flapping in the wind. It wore a mask tight over its face like a second skin. The visage of a skull emblazoned on it. The creature walked the length of the wing towards the pilot. It was a creature known as Poltergeist.

  Once a living, breathing person, he is now an undead agent of the supernatural, impervious to death in all of its conventional ways. When needed, Poltergeist is sent from the Beyond to stop the evil that lurks just outside of man’s comprehension. He is an agent of balance for the ambivalent keepers of order in the universe.

  Poltergeist crouched down below the whirling propeller and saw the evil he had feared. The box.

  The box was a small, wooden crate – three feet by three feet – with rough, rope straps for carrying. Unassuming in all regards, except for its contents. It was tucked inside the plane's second seat just behind the pilot.

  Just as it was in his grasp, the plane banked wildly! Poltergeist grabbed a metal strut as he slipped off the wing. He dangled like a rag doll as the plane continued to lose altitude. The pilot slumped over his controls. His bullet-riddled body plunged the plane into a nosedive.

  Poltergeist pulled himself up on the wing as the plane barreled down into a cornfield.

  As the plane crashed, it scattered into thousands of pieces. Poltergeist grabbed the box as he was thrown from the crash. He smashed through the crops, twisting and breaking along the way. If his heart pumped blood he’d have been covered in it. He sat himself up, his right hand still gripping the box. He took in his surroundings. The plane was demolished and on fire,
and the cornfield was beginning to smolder around it. The night was clear, the only noise to be heard were the plane’s crackling embers. That was until the pilot stood up.

  Poltergeist turned as the pilot fell out from the cockpit. He was mangled and bloody. He head was caved in and his eyes were gone. His lower jaw was unhinged and dangled to and fro. He stood up and shambled from the crash. Swaying and creaking, the pilot’s ribs protruded from his jacket, and his belly was opened up. Viscera smacked against him as he walked, leaking and making squishy noises. One arm hung limp from a few strands of tendon. It walked towards Poltergeist.

  Poltergeist stood up. One hand held the box while the other reached for his pistol. The pilot kept shambling. Poltergeist fired a round that struck the pilot square in the head. The impact knocked the pilot off course, if only for a moment. It steadied itself and lurched on. Poltergeist fired again. The bullet struck the pilot’s body but did nothing else. Poltergeist holstered the gun. This wasn’t an attack. It was going to be a negotiation.

  The pilot stopped a few feet from Poltergeist. The breeze of the night air whistled through its various contusions. It lifted its head and his mangled mouth opened up. It gurgled as something slithered out. A long construction of interwoven tentacles splayed out and glistened in the moonlight. The tips began to wiggle and a faint voice could be heard from them. It was distant and had a small echo.

  “Release the Eye of Yog-Sothoth,” spoke the tentacles.

  Yog-Sothoth. An elder god. Not only did the name scare Poltergeist, it confirmed his suspicions about the box’s contents.

  Poltergeist took a small step back. Behind his skull-faced mask he grimaced and grit his teeth. He could feel the box beginning to move. This was not good. Yog-Sothoth had been banished and locked away beyond the universe. Its corporeal body destroyed in an ancient war among gods. Though rumors did persist that the eyes of Yog-Sothoth remained hidden on Earth, and that reuniting them would release the beast so it could finish it’s quest to transform the universe it its own horrible image.

  The tentacles spoke again.

  “Release the Eye of Yog-Sothoth, and we shall let you pass through the gate into cosmic unity.”

  Poltergeist took another step back. The pilot lifted its arm and opened its hand. Poltergeist watched as tentacles pushed and pulled the pilot’s muscles from inside the corpse.