"You think this'll happen, Rowdy," whispered someone. Her ears perked up.
"Shut up!"
She followed the murmurs, finding two men sitting inside opposite tents and chatting to one another. They both appeared to be homeless, but Robin saw the wisps of dragon fire on Flicker's neck. She circled to the back of his tent and slit an entry, slipping in with great stealth. Other than the man sitting at the entrance, the tent was empty, nothing more than a ruse. She tiptoed toward his back, unsheathing her short sword. Yanking Flicker back by the hair, she sank her blade into his dragon. He yelped in surprise and pain.
A rustle came from the other tents around her, as warm blood sprayed on her and against the tent walls.
"There!” someone yelled, spotting her escape from the tent.
She stopped and faced them, but a few others were already running toward her from different directions. She withdrew the crossbow and targeted her attackers with perfect aim, cracking through skulls and bursting blood out the other side. Then, someone shot at her. She felt the sting of the bullet rip into her shoulder, leaving a gouge in her skin. Blood pumped out with each of her racing heartbeats. She ran, leaving a trail of blood behind her.
"Hey, boss," Rowdy said into his cell phone while staring at the Sherwood Home for Girls. "I gotta show you something."
Inside, Robin whimpered in the bathroom, cleaning her wound.
"What are you doing in there?" asked Mary.
"I'm fine," Robin said unconvincingly. "Go back to bed."
"If you don't let us in," Scarlet threatened. "We're going to have to wake up John."
Robin opened the door, let them in, and told them everything.
“You need to tell John,” Mary said.
"No. I don't trust him."
"You can trust him. I promise," Scarlet assured. "After he went to internal affairs about his partner's corruption, thugs invaded his house and killed his family. They nearly killed him too. He helps us because he couldn't help them."
"Now his ex-partner's the sheriff," Mary continued.
"Probably used the same thugs too," Scarlet added.
Was it the sheriff?
Robin agreed to speak to John, and to her surprise, he was not angry.
"We need to prepare," he said with a warm smile as he gripped her healthy shoulder. Then, a flash of light cast across his eyes. He peered out the window at several headlights pulling up to the house. "We may not have time. Wake the others and get ready to fight."
The girls scattered, entering each room and waking the others. Then, they rushed to the arsenal to arm themselves.
Guy and his army of goons sauntered up the doors with weapons in hand. Guy rapped at the door, saying, "Little pig, little pig, let me in!" Then, he waved for Rowdy to blast the door handle off with a shotgun. The men dashed inside to find John standing his ground with pistols in both hands.
"You guys came to the wrooong place," he said before blasting one of the intruders in the head.
As gunshots peppered the house, many of the girls ran away. Robin, Mary, and Scarlet led a small armed group toward the entryway. The barrage of loud bangs rattled the house like thunder. They approached the hallway just in time to glimpse Rowdy and Guy standing over John. Robin started to move forward, but Mary and Scarlet held her back. John glanced over and winked, mouthing the word RUN just before Rowdy blew his face into a red puddle of brains and gore.
Through eyes streaming with tears, the armed girls escaped Sherwood. As they hurried away, their home exploded, bursting into flames.
"We must end this," Robin said, glaring back at the inferno. "You think these thugs work for the sheriff?"
"No doubt in my mind," Scarlet answered. “Let’s pay him a visit and find out.”
“You know where he lives?”
“John took us once in a while when he surveilled his old partner,” answered Mary. “We can take you there.”
At Sheriff Bill Lacey’s house, several running cars and vans littered his driveway. The girls scurried to the back of the house. Hearing someone inside yelling, they peered through the windows at the sheriff stalking back and forth in the middle of his living room, berating Guy. Robin spotted Rowdy sneaking toward the backdoor, getting ready to light a cigarette.
Smoke billowed behind the big yellow smiley face as Robin took aim. The bolt pierced the back of his neck, ripping clean through his larynx. Blood burbled out of his mouth, but no sound came as two more bolts punctured his back. He faced his attackers, finding Robin rushing him with her short sword. The steel entered him like butter, and his guts fell to the floor with a sickening wet smack before his body collapsed on top of them.
As the girls crept inside the sheriff's home, the phone rang.
"Yeah?" the sheriff said gruffly but quickly changed his tone. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realize... No sir. We've developed a slight hiccup with the shipment and delivery." On the other end, the person yelled so loudly everyone could hear even if they could not make out the words. "I'll take care of it... I understand."
"He's working for someone," Scarlet whispered. "We should contact the authorities."
"Like who?" Mary asked. "He's the authority around here... and the mayor."
"We should contact the mayor. He's a nice guy."
"What if he's working for the mayor?" asked Mary.
"Let's find out," Robin said, standing up and loosening two bolts, both hitting Guy in the chest. The other girls rose behind her, training their crossbows on the two men.
Guy fell to a chair as the sheriff peered wide-eyed around him. Robin approached, reloading her crossbow.
"Hello, Sheriff," she said. "Who do you work for? Why did you send these maniacs after my family?"
"Who the hell do you think you are, little girl?" asked the sheriff, stepping defiantly toward her. "Coming in here like this means you have no clue who I am either."
"She's the—"
"You shut the hell up," the sheriff barked, ripping a handgun from his back like a quick-shooter and shooting Guy between the eyes.
Robin didn't hesitate. She launched two bolts at the sheriff, both hitting his right arm. He dropped the gun. She reloaded.
"Why are you putting homeless people into camps?"
"You little girls need to find something better to do with your time. This here's big people work."
"Who do you work for, Sheriff?"
"You wouldn't—"
A bolt pierced into his left side near his shoulder and clavicle. He wails.
Thugs burst in through the front door with guns blazing. Robin dashed for cover. The girls fired their crossbows at the thugs, hitting some, missing others. Robin fired wildly at the sheriff as his thugs rushed to him and pulled him to safety.
"Get out of here," Robin yelled to the girls, trying to scramble toward the backdoor.
Some of the girls hobbled out, and others ran without looking back. Robin, Mary, and Scarlet found temporary shelter not far from the Sheriff’s home.
"What do we do now?" Mary asked.
"I think we should go to the mayor," Scarlet urged. "I know him. He is a good man."
"How do you know him?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I just know he's good."
"We need to reach someone outside of Nottingham," Robin said. "Like the governor."
"Leona Richards," Mary clarified. "I think I can help with that. She's a distant cousin."
"Good. See what you can do," Robin said. "In the meantime, Scarlet and I will go to the mayor’s office. See if he's clean."
***
They arrived at the mayor’s office in the late afternoon, finding security cameras everywhere. Without weapons, Robin and Scarlet approached the front doors, where a guard seemed to be waiting for them.
"The Mayor is aware of the situation and wants a meeting right away," he said, escorting them to his office.
"How is he aware?" Robin murmured.
"Maybe the Governor told him?" Scarlet replied.
&
nbsp; They sat in bulky leather chairs in front of a massive redwood desk with intricate carvings throughout. Their feet dangled from the chairs, making them appear much younger than they were. Two guards stood by the door.
A toilet flushed from behind another door. Water turned on and off before Mayor Johnson King entered the room.
"So, what's all this ruckus about?" he asked, strolling toward the girls.
"Hi, Mr. King," Scarlet said, smiling from ear to ear. "Do you remember me?"
"Oh, my dear. I didn't recognize you." He said, brushing her cheek. "You've grown up a lot, it seems."
"I have."
"Yeah, you look so much older and—" he looked her over again, "—used up."
Her smile fades.
"Guards," he said with a wave.
Robin jolted forward, but the guards held them down. Scarlet spit on the mayor. He wiped it away with a wink and an evil grin.
"I trusted you," Scarlet cried. "I ran away for you. I thought you were a good man."
"Oh, Scarlet. We had so much fun back in the day, didn’t we? How much of your story have you told your little friend here?" he asked before turning to Robin. "Scarlet here used to be a whore. It is used to be, right?"
Scarlet dropped her head as he continued.
"Anyway. She was my favorite. I'd visit her what, like once a week?"
He lifted her face.
"You thought I was a good guy. I was going to take you away from all of that. She was so sweet and innocent. One day she told me she loved me and wanted to go away with me. Isn't that right, Scarlet?"
Scarlet nodded, tears streaming down her cheek.
"I told her that could not happen as long as she was a whore. I was trying to be nice about it. I didn't mean for her to run away. I loved her little body. So sweet and tight everywhere."
Scarlet wailed.
"Leave her alone!" Robin cried. "You sick, mother—"
"Ah ah ah," Mayor King said, wagging his finger. "Good girls shouldn't speak that way."
"I'm not a good girl!" Robin belted.
"I was counting on that," the mayor said with a wink.
An intercom buzzed from behind the desk. "Sir, Sheriff Lacey is here."
"Send him in."
Patched up with bandages around his shoulders and right arm, the sheriff wobbled into the room. "I'm sorry, sir. I've been—"
"Meet our guests, Bill," the mayor said, motioning to the girls. "Remember Scarlet. This is her friend—"
"Robin. Robin Locke!"
"Roland's daughter?" the mayor said, caught off guard. "My God, I thought you were dead. You look like him. Just prettier. Your dad. He was a challenge."
"You had him killed!"
"You're pretty and quick, but you have no clue who your dad was, do you?"
"He was an important lawyer. He fought against the system and corruption like you!"
Johnson laughed. "He was my partner. Well, one of my partners."
"You're lying!"
"He wanted out. I thought after killing your mom, he would've gotten over the idea, but he decided to go against me once more. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have all of this. My kingdom. My beautiful kingdom."
"Filled with druggies and homeless?"
"Isn't it perfect? Well, to be fair, I wanted to build a golf course and call it King's Green, but Nottingham Pharmaceuticals paid big money for the land. The homeless are perfect guinea pigs too. What I call a win-win situation."
Another buzz from the intercom. "Sir, a representative of the governor is here."
"Just another busy day at the mayor's office. Let them in."
The girls shared surprised glances.
Mary storms into the office with three men in dark blue suits. As the men enter, they reveal their badges, and Mary runs to her friends.
"Mayor King. Sheriff Bill Lacey. You are under arrest."
"Wait. What? What is this? We're—"
The men draw their sidearms.
"Sirs, if you cannot come peacefully, we will be forced to use violence."
"You don't understand," the mayor said, inching toward a drawer in his desk. He opened the drawer. "We're—"
Smoke rose from the hole in his head as blood and brains splattered against the wall behind him. Scarlet and Mary screamed. Robin looked around, confused.
What is happening?
"Are you coming peacefully, Mr. Lacey? Or do we have to—"
The sheriff raised his arms as best he could and followed the three men. The guards led the way.
"You saved the day," Robin said, embracing Mary.
Scarlet crawled to Johnson King's corpse.
"I can't believe he's dead," she said, noticing something in the drawer. "He wasn't even reaching for a gun. Look."
She retrieved the file, handing it to Robin. Robin flipped a page, finding her father’s signature next to Johnson King’s signature.
It can’t be.
She flipped to a page with Nottingham Pharmaceuticals letterhead and scanned the document.
“Find anything?”
“It says here that Nottingham Pharmaceuticals is a subsidiary of Lionheart Industries."
"Did you say Lionheart Industries?" asked Mary.
"Yeah, why?" Robin said, stuffing the file folder under her hoodie.
"I'm pretty sure that’s Leona Richards’ company."
"Then, this isn’t—” Robin said, swallowing hard. “—the end.”
Jared K. Chapman is an author, filmmaker, and educator. He is a native Californian who spent his formative years at school in frigid Alberta, Canada with his father and summer vacation in arid central California with his mother. He holds degrees in psychology & religious studies and is currently a doctoral candidate studying the social psychology of extreme groups. He lives in a little oasis just east of Los Angeles with his wife and three sons. 2HVØRHVNØT is his debut novel. You can find him at: www.jaredkchapman.com
Jack, the Clock, and the Beanstalk
By J. Lynn Hicks
Under a gray sky in a town far away lived a greedy giant who owned all the land and the food in the countryside. From his sky mansion, he watched as the townspeople slaved away with barely enough to survive. But the greedy giant always wanted more. When he learned younger people could work longer, harder hours, he put timers in the townspeople’s chests so that when they could no longer work as well; the timer slowed until their hearts stopped beating.
In this gloomy town lived a restless boy named Jack…
***
Sulking down the dark country lane, his pack over his shoulder, even the ticking of Jack’s clock, in perfect unison with his beating heart, couldn’t ease his troubled mind. The sweat mill where everyone worked would soon speed up production. Jack knew that his mother could never keep up, and that her timer would stop, and she would surely die.
How would he tell his mother? Her ticker might not handle more bad news.
Passing among the shadowed hills, Jack thought about his own time compared with his mother. His life was not the great adventure he hoped for, but his timer was like new because he worked hard. Dear mother’s timer hadn’t been the same since father’s gears stopped, just a year ago.
After his father died, Jack dedicated himself to his mother, as his father had asked him. Jack longed to give his mother the life she deserved. But they had so little. If they wanted to save her, they would have to summon the Clockmaster, who could bend space and time. But it would be expensive to get word to him in the distant lands. So expensive that they hadn’t enough money when his father was dying. How would they pay for it now when they couldn’t afford milk and bread?
Jack could only think of one thing he could do—sell his grandmother’s antique cuckoo clock. Built with hand-struck gears, her relatives forged two clocks a lifetime before, but this was the only one left to them. Dad hadn’t let her sell it, calling it her legacy.
Jack didn’t know how much the clock was worth, but it was the only thing left. Mother
would mourn the loss of her beloved heirloom, but her life depended upon it.
Jack steeled himself against the wind as he moved out into the dreary countryside toward their little house on the hill where his mother sat at the window and waited for him to return from his shift. But when Jack arrived, his mother wasn’t there to greet him.
Turning the doorknob, Jack hoped that she just stepped aside for a glass of water. He burst through the door, dropped his pack, and called out, “Mother, Mother, where are you?”
In return, a weak voice called to him from the corner where his mother sat wrapped in her warm shawl. “Jack, I am here.”
He rushed to her and pulled the shawl back to look at the clock on her chest. It was still beating, but in an unhealthy rhythm.
“Hold on, Mother. I’ll get the clock grease and make you good as new. He fumbled through the bedroom drawer, looking for the salve he hoped would help his mother.
“Jack, look at you,” Mother said as the cuckoo popped out silently on the hour and poked his head back in. “You’ve got so much time, and mine is running out. There’s little you can do to stop the final toll.”
Jack found the grease and placed it around his mother’s gears. “Don’t talk that way, Mother. We’ll be fine. We just have to believe.”
When he finished placing the salve, he pushed his mother’s hair back. “You will be fine, Mother.”
“Not like this, Jack. The giant has increased production. I will have to work harder, but I won’t be able to keep up.”
Jack sighed. He wanted to tell her first, but in a small town, news travels fast. Certainly faster than Jack.
“We’ve got time, Mother. You just hang on, you hear? We have the money father left us. I will use it to get you new gears and springs until I can afford to summon the Clockmaster.”
“Son,” his mother heaved her chest. “I spent your father’s money on your beautiful pack. It was foolish, but I know how you long for adventure. I thought if you could use it to travel to a better land when I am gone—far from the greedy giant. Perhaps, you still can. My days are almost behind me.”
Jack wanted to reassure her, but without his father’s savings, they would have to find another way for his mother to survive. His shoulders drooped.
Once Upon A Dystopia: An Anthology of Twisted Fairy Tales and Fractured Folklore Page 25