The Conch Shell of Doom

by Ryan Hill

  A swordfish landed nose-down in front of the store, inches from Bailey and Alexis. The two of them jumped back, startled.

  “I thought they just had starfish,” she said.

  “Honestly, I can’t say I’m that surprised.” Bailey moved away from the window. “Any day now, Tim.”

  A keyboard flew out of the office, into the hallway. “You’re not helping.”

  Marshall went behind the counter, grabbed a waffle cone, and heaped scoop after scoop of chocolate ice cream on it.

  Bailey couldn’t believe it. “Seriously? Now?”

  “What?” Marshall licked the ice cream. “I’m parched.”

  “Adults are standing right here,” Chuck tsked.

  “Don’t steal, Marshall,” Debbie complained. “What would your parents say?”

  “Considering they’re out on that beach right now wishing Bailey’s head was chopped off, I can’t say I really care.” Marshall twirled the cone in his fingers, lapping up the frozen treat. “You guys want some?”

  “I wouldn’t mind—” Chuck began, until Debbie elbowed his ribs. “I’m good. Thank you though.”

  Another swordfish crashed through the glass, landing in the middle of the store. Everyone jumped, especially Alexis. The weapon lodged in the floor, right between her legs.

  “I’m never eating seafood again.”

  Marshall threw the ice cream against the wall. Debbie stared laser beams at the swordfish, her protective maternal instincts kicking into high gear.

  “Tim! I’m counting to three, and if you’re not out here—”

  Tim slid out of the office so fast he bumped into the wall. The keys jingled in his hands as he ran for the door. The swordfish caught him off guard.

  “They have those?”

  Bailey held open the door for everyone. “Come on.”

  They all ran outside. Tim unlocked the back of the ice cream truck and flung the doors open. Dozens of sand soldiers were closing in.

  “Only two upfront.” Tim got in the driver’s seat. Chuck cleared his throat, holding his hand out for the keys.

  “I’m driving.”

  “Dad, we don’t have time for this.” Tim started up the truck. “Just take shotgun.”

  “No, your mother will ride shotgun.” Chuck took his son’s sword. “I’ll be in the back.”

  Bailey helped the others into the truck. With everyone in, he opened the truck’s side flap, which was normally where kids could order ice cream, but would be used to take down some sand soldiers. That was the idea, at least. Marshall closed the back door and checked the freezer for some ice cream. Empty.

  Marshall banged his hand on the freezer. “Bunch of crap.”

  Bailey fought back a smile. It kind of served his friend right.

  Everyone jerked backward as the truck lurched forward and turned left onto the main road. The engine wheezed. Debbie told her son not to floor it.

  “I know what I’m doing,” Tim complained. “Just let me drive, okay?”

  “Anybody know where Franklin and Julie are?” Bailey asked.

  “In the neighborhood somewhere,” Alexis said. “Take a right here.”

  The ice cream truck slammed into a few soldiers, ripping them apart into chunky, wet pieces of sand. Inside the truck, each collision felt like crashing into a wall, but they kept moving.

  A sand soldier grabbed the side flap, trying to climb in. Chuck swung the hook sword at it, taking the thing’s arm off. The soldier fell under the truck and was run over by the rear tires.

  Tim jerked the steering wheel, making a hard right into the neighborhood. They didn’t make it far before he slammed on the brakes. Debris from a destroyed house blocked the road.

  “You’re going to make us sick,” Debbie complained.

  “Mom! Stop it!” Tim put the truck in reverse, slamming into sand soldiers. The truck continued in reverse, away from the soldiers. After going back almost thirty feet, Tim put the truck in drive.

  The truck barreled forward, straight for the sand soldiers. Bailey held on to the freezer for balance. They slammed into the soldiers, each hit making everyone lurch forward. Clumps of sand splattered on the windshield, making it almost impossible to see. Tim tried the windshield wipers, but that only created streaks.

  “Do the wipers longer,” Chuck said. “That was about two seconds.”

  “Everybody stop telling me how to drive!” Tim said.

  The ice cream truck slammed into something much bigger than a soldier. Whatever it was, Bailey could’ve sworn the truck drove on top of something. Tim tried putting it in reverse, but it was no use.

  “It’s stuck.”

  Alexis rolled her eyes. “Really?”

  Tim threw up his hands. “I can’t help that thing has blind spots.”

  Alexis stormed up to her brother. “You couldn’t have gone around them? Anything? This is why Dad didn’t want you driving.”

  “Shut up!” Tim snapped. “We stole the truck so we could drive through them, you idiot.”

  “Hey!” Debbie spoke over her twins. “Don’t tell your sister to shut up, and don’t call her an idiot—”

  Tim tried to get a word in, but his mom wasn’t finished. She turned her attention to Alexis.

  “And you. Try to be a little more supportive of your brother. You know he’s sensitive about his driving.”

  “Mom!” Tim stomped to the back of the van past Marshall.

  Alexis glanced back at Bailey. “What do we do now?”

  “We hoof it, right?” Bailey looked to Chuck, hoping that was the right answer. Bailey couldn’t have felt more relieved when Mr. Carrington nodded.

  “I don’t see that we have any other choice. Hey Deb? Can you do the windshield wipers, see what the party’s looking like?”

  “You got it, babe.”

  Debbie turned the windshield wipers on full speed. The rubber blades went back and forth, clearing the sandy streaks. The truck had lodged itself on top of a small Kia.

  “I think we flattened Kay West’s Kia,” Deb said.

  Bailey caught the scent of Mrs. Carrington’s wet hair as he leaned over her shoulder, looking through the front windshield. A horde of sand soldiers charged at them. “Um, guys.”

  “Great.” Marshall opened the ice cream truck’s rear doors and then hopped out and started cursing up a storm.

  Bailey and Chuck both went to check on Marshall, who was in an attack stance similar to Wolverine. Rows and rows of sand soldiers surrounded them, each one ready to strike with either a starfish, swordfish, or eel whip.

  “Guys, I’ve got this.” Tim wedged himself between Bailey and his dad. “Find the others. I’ll take care of these si pi yans.”

  “Stop cursing in Chinese.” Chuck held Tim’s sword. “And you’re not going out there. I will.”

  “Sorry Dad, but this is a job for a ninja.” Tim moved too fast for Chuck, taking back the sword and jumping out of the truck. Tim attacked the sand soldiers, lopping off a few heads. Marshall got to work, using his gloved blades to remove the arms and legs of some soldiers. An eel whip flew out from behind Tim and wrapped around his leg, zapping him with electricity. Tim fell to his knees, his body shaking from the charge. Several sand soldiers stood above him, ready to stab him through the chest.

  Chuck rushed to his son, trying to get between Tim and the soldiers. Mr. Carrington didn’t get far before one of the monsters knocked him out, amidst the screams of Debbie and Alexis.

  Bailey spread his arms and pushed against the rear door’s frame. Debbie and Alexis both struggled to get past him. The enemy’s numbers were only increasing. They were surrounded. Fighting would only lead to all six of them dying. Bailey looked at Tim, who was one wrong move away from death. Bailey couldn’t live with himself if any of those people gave their lives for him. Something had to be done. Bailey just hoped that particular something would work.

  He raised his hands and calmly stepped out of the truck. “I surrender.”

  Marshall
scowled at his friend. “What the heck are you doing?”

  “You guys aren’t dying for me.” Bailey’s eyes fell on Alexis. “You can still get away.”

  “Don’t do this.” Alexis’s lower lip trembled.

  Bailey wanted to kiss her, especially since he was offering himself up as a sacrificial lamb to Trenton Maroney again, but coupled with her family being literally right there, it seemed a little inappropriate. Anxiety forced Bailey to make fists. What the hell am I doing?

  A sand soldier grabbed Bailey. The troops fell out, marching Trenton’s sacrifice back to the beach. Bailey wanted to cry. Why did he give up? What made him think that was a good idea? Such an idiot. Walking down the boardwalk, Bailey didn’t even care that he really was crying. His excellent, no, fantastic, decision making under pressure had guaranteed he’d die a virgin without ever really kissing a girl (the Jenny Hunt vomit incident did not count), and on top of that, provided Trenton survived the attack by Ares’s Birds of War, Bailey’s body was about to become host to an evil head that an hour ago lived in somebody else’s stomach.

  Dear universe,

  Suck it.

  Sincerely,

  Bailey Southwick.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Second Thoughts

  The sand soldiers led Bailey onto the beach. The birds had killed some of the townsfolk, including Kay West. So much for Tim destroying her Kia. Among the lifeless bodies clothed in black robes littering the beach was every single one of Ares’s Birds of War. At least, it looked like all of them. Typical. Bailey was marched past the injured survivors, including his and Marshall’s parents. Most of those people only had cuts and bruises. Deckland made it through the attack alive, his hands bloody from punching any bird brave enough to fight him. His shirt was lost in the fighting, revealing a chest that was covered in gashes.

  Percy whistled at the sight of Bailey. “Look what the sandies dragged in.”

  “Where’s Trenton?” the Irishman asked Percy, who’d somehow made it through without a scratch.

  “Haven’t seen him since the birds dunked him in the water. You think he drowned?”

  “Trenton can’t drown, you stupid wanker.” The ginger smiled at the sight of something farther down the beach. “See?”

  Bailey watched as Trenton’s head rose above the waves. He marched through the churning ocean and made his way to them, clutching the Conch Shell of Doom.

  “I see my army took care of the birds,” Trenton said.

  Deckland mock-brushed his shoulder. “I helped a bit.”

  Trenton coughed. Parts of his host body were pitch black and spreading. Mr. Lovell’s body wouldn’t last much longer. Trenton couldn’t have been happier to see Bailey.

  “You’re stronger than you appear,” Trenton said. “That’s going to serve me well.”

  Mayor Benchley and some of the other followers stumbled toward them, a little life returning to their eyes. Benchley held up his mangled left hand. It looked like it’d been put through a meat grinder.

  “Master Maroney, please, help us. Those birds, they tore us to shreds. Millie here lost an eye.”

  Bailey looked over at the Mayor’s wife, Millie. She held a hand over one eye, streams of blood oozing out from between her fingers.

  Trenton stood in front of her, eyes narrowed, and then moved on to the Mayor. Trenton took Benchley’s mangled hand in his, tenderly examining it. Trenton wrapped his fingers around what remained of the hand and squeezed. Benchley screamed.

  “This is weakness.” Trenton pushed the Mayor down and then pressed down on his chest with his foot and yanked Benchley’s arm off. “You’re disgusting. All of you. I have no use for weakness. There’s no place for it in my world.”

  Trenton threw the arm away and then raised a foot to crush the Mayor’s face. Bailey was frozen in shock. Was the Mayor of Mooresville really about to get his head stomped in?

  Millie shrieked and grabbed at Trenton with her free hand. He crushed Benchley’s throat and then grabbed his wife and jammed his thumbs in her eye sockets. Bailey couldn’t look away, but he didn’t have to keep watching. He closed his eyes, waiting for the screaming to stop.

  Franklin shouted and rammed the Blade of Hugues de Payens through the hood of a Mazda. His knee felt like a ball of fire, and to top it off, his best chance of stopping Trenton and getting the Conch Shell of Doom was ruined by amateurs.

  Franklin glared at Tim. “How do you drive an ice cream truck on top of a Kia when all you had to do was drive three blocks?”

  Tim leaned against the Mazda, arms crossed and head down. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “I thought you were a ninja,” Franklin said.

  “Sorry,” Tim muttered, barely above a whisper.

  “Let’s not play the blame game, people.” Chuck used his stern father voice. “This isn’t all on Tim, and I don’t appreciate you putting that weight on his shoulders.”

  Franklin wanted to yell at Chuck. Tell him that by letting Bailey give himself up, whatever leverage they had in the situation was gone. It was game over, for everyone. A voice in the back of Franklin’s mind told him to stop his pity party. There was still time to salvage things.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry, Tim.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “What now?” Julie asked. “Is there anything we can do besides find a nice rock to live under for the rest of our lives?”

  “Not even Tim?” Marshall asked.

  “Shut up.” Tim hit Marshall on the arm.

  Franklin thought for a moment. “You said all the soldiers left with Bailey?”

  “All of them,” Alexis said.

  “Except for that awesome goblin shark carcass you guys took out.” Marshall made a cutting motion with his weapons.

  “Good.” Franklin pulled the blade out of the hood and flipped it, catching it by the sharp end. “We may not have to find a good rock to hide under after all.”

  Alexis raised her hand. “I’ve got an idea.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  This Situation Calls for a Take-Charge Kind of Guy

  Bailey’s parents ripped off his armor and then tied him back down to the sacrificial slab. Earl and Wanda had ushered him into the world, and it seemed oddly ironic they were leading him out of it. Not that it made Bailey feel better. His mind raced with thoughts of what would become of his soul. What if death was it? No afterlife, no Heaven, no reincarnation, and definitely no chance to fool around with a girl.

  Trenton once again chanted in that weird language. The surviving followers knelt around him. Bailey took a little comfort in the fact that the Birds of War took down a few of those whackos but not much. He needed to think of something better than that, since it might be his last thought. It didn’t take long for his brain to settle on a familiar image that put him at ease.

  Boobs.

  Namely, Alexis’s boobs.

  Trenton stopped chanting. Bailey tensed. It was time. His heart felt like a five-hundred watt subwoofer pounding in his chest. He couldn’t let them own the moment. No way would they take that away from him.

  Boobs. Boobs. Boobs.

  “We only have one chance at this,” Franklin said as they walked toward the beach. “You sure you’re up for it?”

  Alexis held the wand in her hand, eyes beaming. She couldn’t have been more excited. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting this whole time to use Ollivander’s finest.”

  “Whose finest?”

  Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s some Harry Potter reference.”

  Franklin sighed. “Don’t tell me this whole thing hangs on a bunch of kid’s movies.”

  “They were books first,” Alexis said defensively. She pointed the wand at a mailbox and then flicked her wrist. The mailbox flew off the wooden post it was nailed to as easily as if someone took a bat to it. Alexis crossed her arms, flashing Franklin a big grin.

  He bowed. “I stand corrected.”

  Debbie hugged her daughter a littl
e too tight. “Sweetie, that was amazing.”

  “Thanks.” Alexis scrunched her face, uncomfortable at the show of affection in front of others.

  Franklin clapped his hands together. “If all goes well, there will be plenty of time for hugs later, but we should probably get a move on.”

  Debbie still clung to Alexis. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Mom.” Tim tried to pry them apart. “We have to go. Mom! You’re embarrassing us.”

  “All right.” Debbie let go of her daughter and then winked at Tim. “Don’t think you’re not getting a big old hug later.”

  “So long as it’s in the privacy of our own home.”

  They walked over to the boardwalk, taking cover behind a building that abutted the beach. Franklin took a quick glance around the corner. Trenton, knife in hand, stood over Bailey. Franklin motioned for Alexis.

  “See the knife Trenton is holding?” Franklin asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think you can knock it out of his hands from this far?”

  Alexis shrugged. “I hope so.”

  Franklin didn’t like the idea of Alexis going onto the beach in plain view of everyone, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. She traded places with Franklin, pointing the wand at Trenton, and then flicking her wrist. A small gust of sand popped up behind the followers. Alexis grimaced and tried again, taking the leg of a sand soldier off. It fell over, but nobody took notice, even the troops around it.

  “I’ve got to get closer,” Alexis said.

  “Wait.” Franklin reached out for her, but she’d already moved toward Trenton and the others. Franklin ground his teeth. Why didn’t anyone listen to him?

  Debbie moved past Franklin. “Alexis. Get back here.”

  “Not you too.” Franklin yanked her back behind the building. He didn’t need anybody else making rash decisions. “I’ll go get her.”

  Alexis was completely exposed on the beach. All anyone needed to do was turn around, and she’d be spotted. She took a deep breath, steadying her arm. Trenton raised the knife, providing the perfect target. Franklin ran up behind Alexis but didn’t do anything. The stakes were too high. Franklin wouldn’t even offer words of support, for fear it would mess Alexis up. She flicked her wrist.