HORROR ISLAND
A Rex Havoc Novel
by
Jim Stenstrum
HORROR ISLAND
© Copyright 2015 by Jim Stenstrum
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, except for brief quotations in reviews, without the written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover background by mmgemini/Shutterstock.com
ISBN: 978-1-942617-01-3
To contact Jim Stenstrum, please go to:
thevaststenstrumempire.com
[email protected]
facebook.com/jimstenstrum
To Mom,
Who against incredible odds
kept the whole gang together.
We love you.
Chapter 1
The Four-Armed Chauffeur
Rex Havoc smashed through the privacy window of the limousine with his baby crowbar and grabbed the four-armed chauffeur by its squid-like face. The driver struggled with Rex, champing down on his hand with its sharp beak and punching the accelerator with a foot literally made of lead.
The limo jumped a curb and hurtled across the impeccably manicured cemetery lawn, smashing into tombstones and clipping a backhoe excavating a new grave.
“What the hell!” cried a confused Dementia as Rex tried to push his way through the glass partition while the chauffeur hammered him with blows from three of its huge fists. Seated in the back of the limo, Crayon screamed as the car bounced insanely across the cemetery grounds.
The funeral wasn’t supposed to go this way.
Rex had planned a pleasant, quiet dinner at his favorite restaurant, the local Rice Cake Palace, where he and his new friends, Dementia Sabbath and Crayon Oleander, could decompress over a delicious stack of rice cakes after the solemn memorial commemorating Rex’s fallen comrades, the heroes known as the Asskickers of the Fantastic.
But in Rex Havoc’s world, shitstorms often rolled in without warning, and today was no exception.
Dementia reached through the broken partition and grabbed the chauffeur by its woolly mane. The driver yanked the steering wheel hard to the left and narrowly missed a crowd of mourners gathered for a burial service, slamming instead into a giant weeping angel statue, which broke loose from its base and crashed on top of the car, squashing the limo like an enormous black cockroach.
Several of the mourners rushed toward the crushed limousine, stopping abruptly when they saw the grotesque creature kick open the car door and climb out of the vehicle.
The monstrosity beggared any sane description, but what the mourners saw had four arms, a gorilla-like torso, a spiked Stegosaurus tail, and two huge metal feet—one made of solid gold and the other of far inferior lead. Around its thick neck the monster wore a mechanical collar that glowed bright green.
The crowd recoiled in horror at the creature, which snapped at them with its squid beak. Turning back to the car, the monster ripped off the rear door and reached inside to feel the pulses of Crayon and Dementia, who lay unconscious on the floor of the limo.
Satisfied that the girls were not critically injured, the monster lumbered around to the front seat and dragged Rex out of the vehicle. Rex was also unconscious and generally undamaged, but when he began to rouse the creature punched him back into dreamland. Then it snapped a mechanical collar onto Rex’s neck, identical to the one the creature was wearing.
The monster plodded toward a hearse parked nearby, scaring off the driver. It pulled the coffin out of the back and hurled it onto the road. Several of the mourners screamed as they saw their loved one’s casket manhandled by the monster and tossed unceremoniously onto the asphalt. When the enraged crowd drew closer, the creature screeched and raised its spiked tail as a warning to keep their distance, and the mourners fell back.
Meanwhile, inside the crushed limousine, Dementia stirred enough to see the creature shoving Rex into the back of the hearse. She tried desperately to rally in an effort to save her friend, but the strain proved too much and she blacked out again.
The four-armed chauffeur screeched once more at the crowd as it tromped to the front of the hearse. Then it squeezed itself into the driver’s seat and drove away.
Within minutes, three squad cars and an ambulance arrived at the cemetery. The police busied themselves interviewing the shocked mourners as a paramedic tended to Crayon.
Dementia stood nearby, watching the cops anxiously, fearing they would recognize her from news videos and start asking questions she didn’t care to answer. Like, why she blew up a gas station a few days ago, and what planet was she from, and so on.
(The gas station was collateral damage when she tried to stop killers from another dimension from taking over the earth. And as for what planet she was from, well, that was her own goddamn business.)
As the paramedics loaded Crayon into the back of the ambulance, Dementia hopped in to accompany her to the hospital.
“Get us out of here. Pronto,” Dementia told the driver. The driver craned his neck and stared at her a moment, then switched on the siren and punched the gas.
“What’s going on?” asked the paramedic in the back, surprised by the ambulance’s sudden departure.
Dementia pointed to Crayon. “Just tend to the girl and don’t ask foolish questions.”
He gaped stupidly at the woman for a second, then turned back to the girl and stopped asking foolish questions.
Dementia looked at Crayon with concern. “Will she be all right?” she asked the paramedic.
“She has a broken arm, and possibly a concussion. We’ll know more when we get some X-rays.”
He turned to look at Dementia and was shocked to see a jagged chunk of metal protruding from her thigh.
“Good lord. Let me look at that,” he said in horror.
The paramedic reached out to examine the piece of metal and was startled when Dementia slapped his hand away.
“Ma’am, you’ve got a chunk of metal the size of a dinner plate in your leg. You have to let me look at it. It may have damaged an artery.”
He reached for the chunk of metal and again his hand was slapped away.
“Leave it alone. Just help the girl,” said Dementia.
The paramedic appeared stunned for a moment, but then returned to his examination of the girl. On the gurney, Crayon weakly turned to look at Dementia.
“What the heck happened back there?” Crayon asked. “Where’s Rex?”
“That four-armed chauffeur kidnapped him.”
“What on earth was that thing?”
Dementia shook her head. “Never saw anything like it, and I’ve been around a hell of a long time.”
“Can you locate Rex, you know, with your… your…”
Crayon looked furtively at the paramedic, wondering how best to phrase her words.
“Don’t worry about him,” said Dementia. “I’ll just wipe his memory before we get to the hospital.”
The paramedic gave her a weird look, but then returned to his work.
Crayon continued: “Can you locate Rex with your psychic powers?”
“No, I can’t track him,” Dementia replied. “That steel plate in his head interferes. I have no idea where he is.”
“We have to find him, Dem. We have to rescue him.”
“We will, kiddo. But we have to get you fixed up first.”
Dementia looked out the ambulance window and saw they were turning into the hospital emergency entrance
. She spoke to the paramedic.
“You will forget everything you heard in the last ten minutes. Do you understand?”
The paramedic nodded obediently. Then he noticed the jagged chunk of metal protruding from her thigh.
“Good lord. Let me look at that,” he said in horror.
Four hours later, a taxi dropped off Dementia and Crayon at Rex Havoc’s Manhattan apartment. Except for the cast on her arm, Crayon had checked out fine, and Dementia grudgingly allowed a nurse to bandage her leg.
They walked up the stairs to the apartment, past the holes in the walls Dementia had made ripping out Rex’s security equipment a few days back. This happened before they became friends, and Dementia promised herself she would repair the equipment, even though the system was seriously lame and really didn’t work very well anyway.
The apartment itself looked unchanged—cramped, chaotic and ghastly. Old newspapers and magazines were piled to the ceiling, creating precarious towers that could easily topple and bury somebody alive. Inside the bookcases were many souvenirs of Rex’s previous exploits, including a dragon skull, alien machinery, and creepy artifacts from around the world. There were also dirty clothes on the floor, half-eaten meals, unwashed dishes, and bags of trash Rex was too busy to bother with.
Crayon ran into the kitchen to check the answering machine. Her heart sank when she saw there were no messages.
“It’s been over four hours without any word. What are we gonna do, Dem?”
“There’s nothing we can do. Except wait,” Dementia said somberly.
Dementia picked up the remote control and turned on the array of televisions in the front room. The incident at the cemetery was the top story on all of the news shows. A cell phone video shot by one of the mourners showed the four-armed monster causing pandemonium at the funeral and loading Rex into the hearse. But the present whereabouts of their friend remained a mystery.
Crayon appeared very worried.
“You don’t think he’s… dead, do you?”
Dementia managed to work up a convincing smile.
“Rex is fine, kiddo. He’s too damn cussed to die. I’ll bet you he’s on his way home right now.”
Chapter 2
Shanghaied
Far into international waters, the tramp steamer Lady Vain made its way toward parts unknown. Barely seaworthy, the ship was delivering a cargo of foodstuffs and scientific equipment to a mysterious location, and was manned by the strangest crew to ever sail the high seas.
In a dark, windowless cabin aboard the ship, Rex Havoc lay drugged and unconscious on a small bunk. He was thrashing about fitfully, deep in the grip of a terrible nightmare. He dreamed he was caught in a giant web as a monster spider dressed as a chauffeur inched closer, spreading wide its gruesome mandibles.
A sliver of light fell across Rex on the bunk as the cabin door slowly creaked open. Something quietly slithered into the room. It reached up with a tentacle, gently wrapping it around the man, careful not to wake him. Then it opened its enormous mouth and began to swallow Rex alive.
In his dream, Rex abruptly felt himself falling into a deep, moist pit. As he fell, he frantically reached out for any outcropping, but the walls of the pit were smooth and slippery, and there was nothing for him to grab.
The cabin door swung open again and a man in a white linen suit and a Panama hat came into the room.
“Octavius! Release that man!” he said.
A gruesome monster with five tentacles and an enormous maw turned to face the man. It had Rex down its huge gullet headfirst and was trying to push the rest of him down with two of its tentacles.
“Release him, I say! He is not for eating.”
The man banged the creature on its nose with his fist.
The creature shook its head stubbornly, not willing to give up its catch. Rex was struggling harder now, flailing his feet, making it difficult for the creature to finish swallowing him.
The man in the white suit took a small remote unit from his coat pocket and pressed a button, delivering a powerful shock to the electronic collar the creature was wearing. It yowled in pain and spit out Rex, who flopped onto the floor like a newborn calf, covered in slime.
Rex gasped for air and wiped the slobber out of his eyes. He looked around the dark cabin, trying hard to comprehend his surroundings. He saw the chastened creature whimpering in a corner, and then he looked up at the man in the white suit, who was smiling at him.
“Wh-where am I? Who the hell are you?” Rex demanded.
“I am Dr. Montgomery. I’m more or less in charge around here.”
Rex looked back at the horrible creature pouting in the corner.
“That is Octavius,” said Montgomery. “He gets plenty to eat. I don’t know what possessed him to try to swallow you. My sincere apologies.”
Rex felt something tight around his neck and touched the metal collar. He tried pulling on it but it wouldn’t come loose.
“What’s this thing around my neck? Take it off.”
“Sorry. Routine procedure. Everybody gets one. I have one.”
Montgomery tapped the collar on his own neck, which glowed green.
“It tracks your whereabouts, and also controls you,” he explained. “It is impossible to remove. The voltage increases exponentially the harder you try to take it off.”
Rex grasped the collar with both hands and pulled on it. A powerful electric charge surged through him, getting stronger the harder he pulled, causing the collar to turn a brilliant red, until finally—
“SHIT!” howled Rex, surrendering to the incredible pain and releasing the collar. Montgomery merely shrugged.
“Seriously. It’s unbreakable. It will blow your head off if you monkey with it too much.”
Rex looked down at the khaki outfit he was wearing. “Where are my clothes?”
“They were bloodied during your extraction and we disposed of them. The clothes you’re wearing were borrowed from a crewmember.”
Rex patted his pockets frantically.
“I had some medicine in my coat pocket.”
“Sorry, that was confiscated,” said the doctor.
“I need those pills. They keep me… balanced.”
“They stop you from drifting between dimensions. Yes, I know.”
Rex looked surprised.
“I know all about you, Rex,” Montgomery continued. “I know you’re half-human and that your mother was dragged to hell in front of your eyes when you were a child. I also know that your former comrades—the Asskickers of the Fantastic—were killed in Romania, and it was there you discovered your power to move between dimensions.”
These were things nobody knew. Rex’s surprise turned to deep suspicion as Montgomery resumed:
“Except that power is becoming difficult to manage now, isn’t it? You’ve been phasing out much more frequently. Every week you need more and more pills, and it’s just not doing the job anymore. In a matter of weeks, maybe days, even a trainload of pills won’t be enough to keep you stable. You will become a ghost, stuck between worlds forever.”
Rex frowned deeply.
“Okay, you know who I am. So what’s this all about?”
“Everything will be revealed to you at dinner tonight. Until then, I must ask that you to remain in your cabin. There are many dangers on deck. It is for your own safety.”
Rex scoffed and got to his feet.
“Fuck that. I’m getting out of here right now.”
He pushed past Montgomery and barged out the door. But when he walked outside to the deck of the ship, he saw only the open sea extending to the horizon. No land, no other ships in view. Montgomery joined him at the railing.
“As you can see, Rex, there’s nowhere to go. You may as well relax and enjoy the voyage.”
Rex made a quick appraisal of his situation. He was aboard a cargo ship, but had no earthly idea where he was. He could be on one of the Great Lakes, or he could be in the middle of the Pacific, thousands of miles fro
m any port.
Then he saw the monsters, at least a score of them, all wearing uniforms and apparently members of the crew.
Among these hellish creatures was a living cactus with the head of a man, swabbing the forward deck. Coming from the other direction was a giant slug as big as a horse, so translucent that its internal organs were clearly visible. Carrying supplies to the galley was a half-pig, half-robot abomination. And flying overhead was something that looked like a python with bat wings.
Some of these monsters walked, some rolled, and some oozed along on a layer of slime. These were creatures so absurd in design they might be comical if they weren’t so nightmarish.
Another monster shambled toward Rex and Montgomery, but this one was familiar. This was the four-armed chauffeur Rex had battled in the limousine, but now it was wearing a crewman’s uniform with two extra sleeves and pants with its ass cut out to accommodate its huge spiked tail. Rex clenched his fists in anticipation as the creature drew closer.
The monster walked up and stood next to Montgomery at the railing, not even acknowledging Rex.
“You doubtless remember Thomp,” said Montgomery. “Have no fear of him. He will not harm you unless you become difficult.”
Before Rex could respond, a fat, brutish man staggered toward them. This was a human, and by his uniform Rex guessed it was the captain of this vessel. The man was yelling about something as he approached.
“Goddammit, Montgomery! I thought I told you to keep these monsters below deck.”
This was Captain Armstrong, the grizzled 62 year old captain of the Lady Vain. He was drunk, slovenly, and still had bits of whatever he had for lunch hanging from his coarse black beard.
“This is my crew, skipper,” Montgomery told him.”They’re harmless… by and large.”
Horror Island: A Rex Havoc Novel Page 1