His new role, his new reason for being, was to create chaos on Earth. To seek out evil and nurture it, raise it up to destroy and kill and all the nasty stuff that evil likes to do.
And he was good at it.
Doc Holliday had his hand in almost every criminal enterprise in the world. He was Doctor Doom, Lex Luther, Keyser Soze, and Darth Vader all rolled into one body. He was smart, cultured, cunning, good looking, imaginative, and most importantly, quite evil. And his power was immense. Doc could now tap into abilities the average person only knew from reading Sci-Fi novels.
Doc Holliday was a ghost, a phantom, a mystery, and a legend. He was the monster under your bed. The boogie man in your closet. The FBI had a file on him so big that it had its own floor in their headquarters at Quantico. Yet they had no idea who he was. The CIA knew of him only by reputation, and had been known to send work his way from time to time.
More than one world leader owes their position to Doc. Prime Ministers, Presidents, Queens, Doc has ways to get to each and every one of them if necessary. Doc has his finger over the button. He has the whole world in the palm of his hand – and all he has to do is squeeze to end all life on the face of the planet. But that’s not why he is among us. After all, Evil cannot thrive without life.
One rainy day in June, Doc meet a young lady named Lucy. The circumstances of their meeting is not important. Suffice it to say, that when Doc first laid eyes upon her, he discovered himself to be quite taken.
Lucy was petite, somewhat bookish, and rather plain. But Doc saw the beauty within her. He could see the radiance that shown from her, a light that most overlooked, or simply could not see. Doc discovered feelings within him that he’d not know in a great while.
She would be his prize. He would take her and show her off like a bauble from his shelf. He would take her down when he needed her, and put her back when he didn’t. She would be his. Completely.
So Doc wooed her. He really turned on the charm. Doc could be rather smooth when he wanted to be. It’s easy to get someone to fall in love with you when you had the power to lie with such sincerity.
Doc’s plan was simple. If you want a girl to fall for you, it must be for you. Not your money. Not your power. She had to fall for who you are. Or in Doc’s case, who you pretended to be. He played the role of a starving artist, a musician with a heart of gold and the soul of a poet. And she fell for it. She fell hard.
Soon the two were wed and Doc revealed his true self to his new bride. She was, understandably, quiet taken aback. But it was too late. He had her. Mind, body, and soul.
Or so he thought.
Six years into their marriage, she disappeared. Doc was furious. No one walked away from him. No one. He had to find her. She had to be made to see her error in judgment. Then she had to die, and she had to die horribly. She had to be made an example of so that others would know the price of betrayal. Of betraying him. But what angered him most, what he found to be quite disturbing was the realization that he did, in fact, have feelings for the girl. That wasn’t supposed to happen. And Doc had to do something about it.
It took nearly three years and every resource at his command, but in the end she was spotted by a rat in his employ by the name of Phil. She was on the other side of the country. She’d changed her name, her hair, her entire person to escape him. And it had almost worked.
The moment he had learned that she had been found, Doc realized that he had to handle this one personally. He also understood that he had to go old school on this one. And so he dressed in the manner of his old self. Boots, hat, guns, and all. He was the Doc Holliday out of legend. He was death.
He would find his Lucy. He would find her, and when he did, she would die. And so would any who got in his way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HER HUSBAND!? THE BEAST thought just a fraction of a second before he yelled, “Your husband!?”
A few seconds later he was unconscious on the floor. Again.
The amount of thought that can go through your head in just a few seconds is actually quite staggering. This is what went through the Beast’s head between the moment he yelled, “Your husband!?” and the moment he fell into his deep sleep:
She’s married?
Married!?
Like, married-married?
Married!?
Seriously? This isn’t something she could have told me during the two years we were together?
I mean, we got married … right?
Hold the phone! Does this mean that we aren’t married because she was already married!?
What do they call that, anyway? Polymorph? Polygram? Polygamy? That’s it, polygamy.
Am I a polygamist!?
No, I can’t be. Goldilocks is though, considering that she was married already.
Married.
Married!?
MARRIED!
You know what? Married is one of those words that really start to sound silly when you say it too much.
Married, married, married, married, married, married. It’s lost all meaning to me now.
Look at her over there. She’s so pretty. Goldilocks and Tim. Tim and Goldilocks. Forever and ever.
I’d like to go back to calling myself Tim someday.
I wonder what her husband is like. I bet he’s a real jerk.
I bet I could take him.
I’d kick his butt then blow him up.
It’s been a while since I’ve blown anything up. I’d like to blow something up today.
I like explosions.
What’s up with those bears?
Are they protecting her? Should I protect her from them?
I fought a bear in my dream. I understand that if you curl up in the fetal position during a bear attack that they’ll leave you alone. I wonder if that bear guy did that when he was attacked.
You know the bear guy right? The bear guy? He’s the guy who went to live will all the bears. Then they ate him. That must have sucked.
I hope I never get eaten. What a crappy way to go.
I’m hungry.
I haven’t eaten all day.
Is that lobster bisque I smell?
Ugh! I can’t stand sea food.
I could really go for a burrito right now.
Or a taco.
I’ve always wanted to try a chalupa.
She really is pretty. Her hair, her eyes. Oh, but it’s her smile. Her smile makes my heart beat, like really fast.
What’s up with that door? It’s freaking huge! What, are they keeping King Kong back there?
You know, I’m really happy with Peter Jackson’s remake of King Kong. The dinosaurs looked fake, but dang did that gorilla look real. And I felt for the thing. I knew how it was going to end, yet still hoped for the best. THAT’S how you make a movie.
She looks scared. Why would Goldilocks be scared? Oh yeah, her husband. He must be one scary dude to get her all worked up. I’ve never known her to be scared of anything.
Of course, I guess I don’t know her that well anymore, do I?
I thought she loved me, but she lied. The entire time we were together she was lying.
I still love her. I can’t help it. Look at her. My heart aches to hold her again.
“Tim,” said Goldilocks, stepping toward him, guilt in her voice.
Oh yeah, right. Now she’s going to act all concerned and guilty. I’ll show her!
“No,” the Beast said, holding one hand out before him, the other covering his face. “No, don’t.”
Yeah, take that! W
oo!
I wonder if they have a Taco Bell in this town. I could really go for a taco. Meat, cheese, sour cream. No veggies. That’s what I’m talking about.
Maybe Goldilocks would want a taco … or maybe even a chalupa.
No, wait. She’s married.
MARRIED!
What. A Pisser.
I need a beer.
Wait a minute! Am I fainting?
Again!?
Come on! What’s going on with this day!?
Can’t a guy catch a break!?
I still love her. She makes me a better person.
I love you Goldilocks!
The Beast staggered, took a couple of steps back, and for the third time that day, passed out, crumpling into a heap on the floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
OFFICER CARL FRIENDLY ARRIVED at Griswold House in time to see the man in black kick in the Griswold’s front door.
Carl was stunned, to say the least. He was stupefied, baffled, befuddled, bemused, bewildered, mystified, perplexed, puzzled, taken aback, and any other words that meant the same as ‘confused’.
All around him lay the bodies of friends, colleagues, and strangers. More than he was willing to count. He’d never seen the kind of violence he’d been made to behold today, and it had just started to catch up to him. He didn’t know how to take it all in, how to process what he’d seen.
His coworkers, some of which he’d considered friends, were dead and had been left to rot in the sun where they lay. So Carl did what most men would do. Carl wept.
And then he prayed.
He dropped to his knees, buried his face in his hands and cried. His tears flowed like the waters of the of the mighty Mississippi. He cried soft and muffled cries. He cried loud and braying cries. His cries were those of a man who’s faith had been all but shattered.
But then he prayed.
Carl considered himself a good man. He believed in God. He hadn’t stepped through the doors of a church since he was a kid, but he still believed.
And so, for the first time in years, Carl prayed. Right there on the front lawn of Griswold House, with death all around him. Carl asked God why. Why did this have to happen? Why did these people have to die? Why would God allow such a person like Doc to walk the Earth? Carl asked for a little understanding.
Then Carl was blinded by a light that surrounded and enveloped him.
And out of this light walked a small figure. He couldn’t make the person out, just a vaguely humanoid blob. The light seemed to be radiating from this figure.
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the light went out, and before Carl stood a little girl. She looked to be about five, possibly six. Her hair was the color of old wood left in the sun, and it was tied up in no less than six short pony-tails that stuck up all over her head. The rest of her hair reached just short of her chin, while her bangs brushed the tops of her eyebrows. She wore a pink t-shirt with a white star centered across the chest, blue jeans, and white sneakers. She looked at Carl and smiled.
“Hi, Carl,” she said. “You and I need to have us a little talk.”
Carl stood, his legs threatening to fail. He wiped the tears from his eyes with the backs of his hands and said, “Who’re you?”
“I am who I am,” She replied, smiling.
“W-what?”
“Look, Carl. We don’t really have time for all of this. You know who I am. I know who I am. Okay? So let’s get down to the nitty-gritty here. Alright?”
“Okay.”
“Good, now why don’t you sit down before you fall down. What do you say there, huh sport?”
“Okay.” Carl feared that he might be going insane. He was in a daze as he tried to make sense of his day. So far it proved difficult. In the end he found it easier to just give in. So he sat. The girl stood in front of him. The two were at eye level.
“Okay then,” she said. “Here’s the deal. There is a very bad man here, Carl. A very bad man. You understand that, right?”
“Bad man.”
“There you go,” she said, smiling as she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Now, this bad man, he calls himself Doc. You with me so far there, Carl?”
“Bad man. Doc.”
“You got it. Doc is a very bad man. A bad man who was put here by an old employee of mine. The two of us don’t see eye-to-eye on much anymore, and I’m afraid he does what he can to try and ruin those things that I have worked a lifetime to create. You following me?”
“I think so.”
“I need your help, Carl.”
“Me?”
“You bet.”
Carl looked at the bodies around him on the lawn. This just couldn’t be happening. He rubbed his eyes with his fists and sighed loudly. He looked back at the girl.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
She slapped him. Hard. Right across the face.
Carl once watched a video online. A video where a group of people recorded a man getting slapped across the face in a very controlled, scientific-like environment. Then they played it back at super slow motion. The man’s face seemed to bend in upon itself in a way that faces just shouldn’t do. His nose – Carl will never forget the man’s nose – looked like it folded back onto his face at such an extreme angle that there just wasn’t any physical possibility that the guy was going to get through that slap without a broken nose. Yet his nose was fine.
Carl imagined that his nose bent in the same way, and as his head rung from the force of the slap, he gingerly explored his nose with a few fingers. He was delighted that nothing was broken.
“Are you paying attention now Carl?” the girl asked.
“Yes.” he said with an ounce of indignation. “You didn’t have to slap me.”
“Yes I did, Carl. I did need to slap you. You gotta hear what I’m telling you, big guy, because I need you. I need you something fierce.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You are going to help save a soul today, Officer Carl Friendly.” She paused a moment before saying, “I’ll let that sink in just a bit.”
“Now wait a minute!” Carl jumped to his feet and started backing away.
“Carl Friendly,” she said. But it wasn’t her voice. “I come to you in your darkest hour.” She hadn’t even opened her mouth. It was as if James Earl Jones spoke to him in his head. Yet, he knew it came from the girl.
“What’s going on?” Carl clutched his head and fell to his knees.
“I have a task for you Carl Friendly.” The girl came over to him and held his head in her hands as she stared into his eyes. She was surrounded by light. All he could see was her. All he could hear was her. She was all there was.
“A task?”
“You have been found worthy, Carl Friendly. You have been chosen. If you do as I ask, you may be able to save the lives of five people today. If you do as I ask, you will rid the world of a great evil. It is a terrible burden I place upon you, Carl Friendly, for you may have to sacrifice your own life to save that of another. Will you take up this great burden, Carl Friendly?”
“Yes,” he spoke in barely a whisper. “I will take up this great burden for you.”
As the words left his mouth, the glow around the girl vanished. Carl no longer felt her presence in his head. And he could once again hear the world around him.
“Good,” she said with her own voice. And still holding his head in her hands, she leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “Good luck, Carl Friendly. And remember that I love you.”
And then she was
gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE BEAST WOKE TO someone slapping him lightly on his left check. His rage began to build as he opened his eyes, looking for his adversary. Searching for his next fight. But when he gazed out at the world around him, his vision was not clouded by war or aggression or blood or battle. He saw only beauty.
At first he thought that he had come to in the field of yellow roses from his dream. His rage evaporated and was replaced by joy, pure and simple. He had found that which he truly sought. That which was his heart’s desire.
He quickly learned that it was not the yellow of the roses he saw above him, but instead was the color of his love’s hair.
He blinked.
“Welcome back,” she said. Goldilocks smiled as she leaned over him. The Beast could see in her eyes that the smile was genuine. That she was happy to see him. So he smiled back. And for a moment he was swept into the past and was no longer the Beast. He was just Tim. He loved Goldilocks and Goldilocks loved him.
His joy turned to rapture.
He let the past wash over him. He didn’t want to let it go. He thought that he might be floating a few hundred feet off the ground, but then decided that he was just really, really happy. He wanted the feeling to last forever. He yearned for it. Ached for it. He needed it. He needed her. And now he had her. Best of all, it appeared that she was happy to see him.
So he flew. He flew higher then he’d been in a long time. He flew so high that he felt he could reach out and touch the sky. He was complete once again.
But then he slammed into something. A barrier. A solid force between him and that which he sought: True happiness, true love, and Goldilocks.
The barrier was a memory. A memory of something he had heard just before he passed out. A memory that had burrowed into his brain like a maggot into rancid beef. A memory that took away his joy. A memory that he didn’t want to have, but did.
Holliday's Gold Page 11