by Paul A. Rice
His accent grated on Ken, he couldn’t place it but the sound made him think of banjos – he heard one jangling in the back of his cold thoughts.
He and Mike closed the gap between themselves and the Dragon.
As they drew nearer, Ken said, ‘Just step away from the device, big guy – move back and we’ll talk…’
He motioned with the muzzle of his rifle, indicating that Red should step away from the device. By now they were some twenty feet away from Red and quite clearly saw his features in the moonlit dawn. Its sick light cast shadows across his rounded face, causing black teardrops to drip beneath his eyes.
Ken growled instructions at him. ‘Get back, Red,’ he said. ‘Back up and we’ll sort this out. Get back, now!’ He pointed the rifle directly at Red’s face, finger on the trigger with the slack taken up.
27
Turning Tables
Red’s voice cut the dawn like a blunt knife. ‘Fuck you, ya Limey prick, you ain’t the wun who makes the fukin rules aroun’ here, boy!’ He spat a long, slimy trail of tobacco juice at Mike, it splashed onto the Australian’s boots. Red laughed. ‘Yore good-lookin’ bitch there,’ he said, to Ken, whilst nodding in Mike’s direction. ‘He’s the wun I shot outside the Funny House, ain’t he, huh? Muthafuka should be dead! What you doing here, purtty boy?’ he snarled, staring at Mike.
Without waiting for a reply, and very quickly, he then did two things at once.
In one, rapid motion, and using something clipped to his belt, the large man zapped the Light Maker, the machine instantly burst into life and with an ominous whine, began to glow. As their distracted eyes looked away from him, Red leapt across the gap separating him from Mike.
He moved so quickly that his body was merely a darkened blur, flickering in the half-light of Ken’s disbelieving eyes. He immediately fired a reactionary shot at Red, it missed by at least a yard and Ken heard the round whining off a rock behind Mike and his attacker. The muzzle flash illuminated the fleeting giant as he cannoned into Mike. Ken watched as the two men went down in a heap, Mike’s weapon clattering as the butt hit the floor.
With the expertise gained from years of training, Red manipulated Mike like a toy. In the blink of an eye, the Australian was forced between Red and Ken’s oscillating rifle barrel. The Glock was expertly removed from Mike’s holster and then rammed mercilessly into the back of his straining neck. A thickly muscled arm crushed his windpipe – Red had him bang to rights.
The giant glared at Ken, gleefully saying: ‘Like I said, boy – you don’t make the rules around here, so...drop-yore-fukin-tools, right now, muthafuka!’ He spat another rivulet of tobacco across Mike’s shoulders. The juice sprayed onto the Light Maker, hitting the weird device with a loud hiss and remaining there, popping and spitting its own foul steam into the still morning air.
Ken’s vision blurred with a rage. He very nearly opened fire again but the uncertainty about the condition of Mike’s pistol stopped him. ‘Was it cocked or not? One thing’s for sure, Red has the reactions of a rattlesnake!’ Ken knew that he couldn’t take the chance – he would have to wait until he was able to get his hands on the grinning ogre to his front.
Red reiterated his last command. ‘Put you’re fukin’ guns down! Do it now!’
Ken heard Mike moan as the pistol was rammed even harder into his neck.
So, with most of his options leaving in a hurry through the exit marked ‘Emergency’, Ken had little choice but to comply with the pistol-wielding man’s snarling command. The AK thunked metallically as it hit the dirt and was soon followed by the more solid thud of his pistol. He felt naked without his weapons. Ken knew right then that he was in deep trouble – the thoughts marched right up to the front of his mind and started talking without an invitation. ‘This one is dangerous, very dangerous!’
He looked at Red, and said, ‘What now, Red? What do you want, huh?’ Ken kept his tone placating – playing for some time to try and figure this out.
It was hard to think clearly. ‘This wasn’t in the script, what the hell has just happened? One minute we had him cornered, and then with a flick of his fucking magic wand, Red’s tied us up like kippers!’ He opened his hands in a gesture of surrender and shrugged.
Red caught the movement and his darkened figure seemed to relax slightly.
If it was wishful thinking then Ken was happy to let it be so. His head was roaring and if he listened carefully he was sure that he heard the hoof beats of the four horsemen. They galloped alongside the Apocalypse and Ken knew that the devilish beast bore his name upon its wretched lips. ‘You’re coming with me, Kenneth!’ He heard it snigger. Dispensing with the thought, and with a broad smile upon his face, Ken sat down on the dusty road and casually reached into his pocket, freezing when he heard Red snarl.
‘Easy son, real easy there, or your friend will be suckin’ air through the back o’ his fukin head!’ He forced Mike into a kneeling position before him, and then, taking the pistol from its spiteful position, Red raised himself up and pointed the gun at Ken.
Using a somewhat jovial voice, Ken said, ‘Just getting my smokes out, buddy, just a smoke is all – keep your wig on!’ He kept his voice steady and calm, the false smile plastered across his face was so large that he was sure his head would split in two and the top half would fall to the ground in front of him, to land with a hollow clunk. Teeth gleaming in the early dawn and eyes fixed firmly upon his captor, Ken took out his smokes and casually lit one with the Zippo. He snapped the lighter shut and then slid it back into his shirt pocket.
Looking at Red, he said, ‘Well, come on then, big boy, what’s your problem?’
Red grinned maliciously at him. The three men waited upon the dusty Afghan road with the silence only being broken by the sound of Red as he expelled more spittle across the top of Mike’s head. It splashed into the dust between them with an ugly splatter.
Finally, he spoke. ‘I’ll tell y’all what I want shall I, boys?’ he said, with an evil grin. ‘I want the fuk off o’ this planet. Those muthafukas on the other side, George an’ his goddamn, interfering, storm-bringing assholes! They fuked us, and fuked us real good, didn’t they now!’
His voice sounded like a talking hyena in Ken’s head. He couldn’t make the image leave his thoughts. Red was the epitome of what he’d seen in the dream, of what George had talked about. Evil rose like a heat haze from him into the cool dawn air. Red smouldered with rancid hatred.
The snarling monologue continued. ‘Those muthas just have no idea, sat there in their perfect places and ridin roun’ the fukin universe talking some shit bout the planet being in danger, “you all gotta stop with that oil thang,” they say! Hell, they don’t know shit, my man, this whole goddamn planet was run by us, we had the gold and we made the fukin rules!’
He sniggered and Ken heard the sound of galloping horses again.
Red sneered at them, saying: ‘Old George, huh, “yo’all can use water for power – look, everyone can be free!” There is no such thang as free! Fukin free...hah, my ass!’ The shaken head caused his hair to arch behind his head and for one second it looked like some devilish red halo. He reiterated his last sentence. ‘There ain’t any such thing as free! The few make the rules and the rest follow ‘em, that’s how it always has been! Except now, well, now...they’ve fuked it up and fuked it up properly!’ Red spat once more, only this time it was words that flew from his mouth. ‘Those stoopid fukers, well, just lemme tell you, this is one ‘good ol boy’ who is gonna get him some of that high life!’ He stopped talking and looked menacingly down at the back of Mike’s head.
For one second, Ken saw Red consider firing into Mike, maybe to blow off some steam, blow the back of Mike’s head off, too. Taking a chance, Ken flicked the butt of his smoke into the dawn. The sudden disturbance caused Red to focus his attentions somewhere other than the back of Mike’s head.
He waggled the Glock in Ken’s direction. ‘Just watch yoreself there, boy,’ he said, ‘because I
maybe’s will plug you right now, just for the hell of it!’ Grinning like a madman, he spat into the dust once more.
Mike’s cold voice interjected. ‘What about the device, what condition is it in, Red? What did you do to it a while back?’ He hadn’t taken his eyes of the glowing silver object since all this had begun.
Ken saw those eyes, they were transfixed upon the sphere, its pulsing light reflected in their depths. Even in the dim half-light, Mike’s face was ashen as he sat with his fists clenched into white knuckled balls. Ken was petrified that Mike might do something stupid – he needed him to wait, wait a little longer until Red was off guard.
Red looked at Mike incredulously, staring at him as though he was stupid. ‘That lil’ ol’ thing is armed right now, armed-and-dangerous, yessir!’ he snarled. ‘We have about eight more minutes o’ this here pleasant chit-chat and then I am outta here and yo’all can go to hell! Go an’ take a wild ride in the fire!’
He giggled – it was right then that Ken saw Red’s madness and recognised what George had said to them. This was the end-game, no turning back. The awful rush of reality rolled over him, no escape, only time to act.
He coiled himself and prepared for the Dragon.
Red’s voice stopped him. ‘Did ol’ George tell you how much I knew?’ he said. ‘Did he tell ya that I’ve been to his lovely, little world, his fuckin parallel? I know it all and I am going back!’
Ken’s nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of the giant’s unwashed body. He truly was the Dragon, Ken swore he saw an insane ignition...the flames of madness...sparking from Red’s eyes.
Their huge adversary continued. ‘Don’t yo’all worry, cos as soon as they see this …’ Red pointed the pistol at the Light Maker, ‘they are gonna drop you boys like a fukin hot potater!’
Almost as he spoke, his awful prophecy seemed about to fulfil itself.
Ken felt himself sway. He felt the ground move beneath him, smoothly and as though on castors, he began to feel like he was being pushed downhill. It was as if he was on a go-kart, his eyes shut, rushing down the hill, sliding. The sensation stopped abruptly but left him so disorientated that he very nearly staggered. He lurched forward with the world spinning in front of his eyes, only just stopping himself from falling.
Red saw Ken’s movement. ‘Felt it did ya?’ he said, ‘Yeah, that’s the end, boy, any minute now is gonna be the time to leave, my man!’ He stopped, looked upwards and listened for a moment. With a slight nod, he said, ‘Right, gimme yore key fobs, the one fer the trucks, hand ‘em over right now!’ He beckoned with his hand in a hurry-up manner. ‘Yeah, any second now they are gonna eject your ass and hightail it right outta this here universe. It’s gonna be bye-bye world and bye-bye you – yo’all are goin down the black shit-hole, that’s for sure!’
He rotated his head as if to stretch the neck muscles, his vertebrae crackled ominously. Red looked back at them, saying: ‘Right, it’s time to git – now gimme yore keys, bitches!’
Mike held up his zapper without a word, Ken deliberately flicked his into the dirt at the side of Red’s stupid shoes. Red stared at him in such a way that Ken almost saw the bullet leaving the end of the pistol’s barrel and spinning its way into his face, it felt like a premonition.
‘Don’t fuk with me, mister!’ the ponytailed one whispered as he bent down to retrieve the zapper, his weapon never moving from Ken’s face as he stooped downwards. ‘Get up,’ he said, to Mike. ‘Stand up and go to yore vehicles – move now!’ He motioned with his weapon and waited until Mike was standing.
Mike rose wearily to his feet; Ken saw that he was having severe problems in tearing his eyes away from the spherical Light Maker. Its dull glow had become brighter now, more urgent. Tiny splinters of incandescent green light had started to needle their way out of its gleaming shell.
With a low moan, the Australian lurched towards it.
‘Mike!’ Ken screamed.
Red fired two rounds, the hollow-points hurtled into the ground just inches in front of Mike’s desert boots, their smashed warheads screaming away into the crimson dawn. Mike jerked back into some sort of reality, he had been totally out of it and his expression was that of a man who had only recently awoken.
‘Fukin move to the vehicles, right now!’ Red hissed the words out and then fired another shot. The round only just missed Ken’s left ear, the bullet was so close that he felt the ‘Whaapp’ of its passing velocity.
‘Okay, okay!’ he shouted, raising his hands. ‘Mike, come on, man, let’s move!’ He grabbed his friend by the arm and propelled him towards the Spears.
Mike stumbled and looked back over his shoulder, the sense of longing oozed from his every pore and Ken heard his short panting breaths. He sounded like a leashed dog straining to break free and leap on the bone – leap on the Light Maker. Ken gripped him tightly and together they moved toward their vehicles.
As they trio neared them, from about fifty feet away, Red used one of the fobs and zapped Ken’s Spear. With a gurgling roar it disappeared briefly before reappearing in Dinky Toy mode. The miniaturised monster sat crazily next to its huge sister. Red snarled at them again. ‘Sit the fuk down!’
They did as they were ordered.
He hissed: ‘Put your hands on your heads!’
The still-warm Glock waving in their faces made this particular game of ‘Simple Simon Says’ much easier to play. Both men sat crossed-legged with hands on their heads and watched as Red made his way over to the last Spear. He turned to them with an awfully-knowing leer smeared across his face.
‘I have also had my blood, and bone and DNA scanned!’ he said. Then, whilst laughing manically, reached out and touched the glass.
It was no surprise to Ken when the huge door swung open for the ugly one.
‘I damn well knew as much,’ he thought. ‘George has a lot of answers to come up with here; Red seems to be one bastard step ahead with everything at the moment…’ His brain started to boil again.
Red said, ‘Now, I’m going back to the hole and back to George – I may even give myself the ultimate pleasure o’ kicking his goddamned teeth in when I get there!’ He snapped his mouth open and shut so rapidly that his own, yellow, donkey’s teeth clashed together with a chiselling sound. Spittle ran down his chin and he giggled again. Bending down, he picked up the miniaturised Spear and threw it into the passenger seat. ‘You, boys, can stay here and play with yore toy. I hear that yore purtty good at fixing thangs,’ he said, staring at Mike. ‘Well, go ahead and try if you want to. I’ll be watching your ass dance with the devil when he comes a sliding in on that big old fireball! You go right ahead, Mistuh MJDoublya, go on now, boy, git over there and do yore fuckin job!’ He shooed Mike with his pistol.
Needing no second invitation, Mike scrabbled upright, then turned and staggered towards the shining sphere. Red laughed and slithered into the driving seat of the Spear. As soon as his back turned, Ken jumped to his feet and started to run towards him.
Then with his tone almost pleasant, Red turned back to Ken’s staggering form and smiled. Once more, Ken felt himself almost floating, frozen in an unreal situation. He saw Red’s lips moving and for a second there was no sound at all, total silence surrounded him. Then the rush came and he found himself just feet away, lurching forwards with the sound of Red’s voice filling the air around him.
‘Like I said before,’ the giant said, ‘I have a flight to catch. I am outta here right now, and since I don’t want you chasing me around forever, no sirees, because you, Mistuh, are one dangerous muthafuka!’ He looked at Ken and winked. ‘So, I guess that I have this, it’s just especially for you, okay?’
With his eyes never leaving Ken’s face, and with the speed of a Cobra, Red raised his arm. Ken saw the gun, watching in disbelief as Red pulled the trigger.
28
The Bigger They Are…
His action sent a vicious spurt of flame, leaping like white-hot venom from the pistol’s one-eyed mouth. Ken had seen
it coming and jerked violently to one side, diving downwards and hitting the dust on his left shoulder, the rapid movement saved him from Red’s bullet – the round barely skimming his shoulder. In a flash he was on his feet and bulldozing into the cab, his wild shoulder-charge sending the man’s next shot hurtling into the raised door of the Spear.
Red brought the pistol down onto Ken’s shoulder with the force of an executioner’s axe. Pain flared up his neck and exploded in his head. Ken grunted and shoved Red’s flailing arm to one side, and then, as hard as he could, head-butted his opponent in the face. The impact was fearsome. Pinwheels of light erupted in Ken’s vision, the world turned black and he held on tight. With hands like claws, he latched himself onto Red’s face, thumbs gouging into the giant’s eye sockets, his arms pulled tight to force Red’s gun arm against the side of his body.
Red screamed like a child. ‘You Goddamn muthafuka!’ he howled, whilst starting to writhe violently. His strength was immense.
Ken heard the pistol firing again, the noise of two shots, muffled and below him, joined with the hot sting of flying gravel, burning into his shins. Ken, aware that the bullets had missed his legs and feet by only a few inches, wrenched his arm inwards. The action pulled Red’s face down whilst enabling Ken to lock the pistol even tighter against his hip bone. He knew that if he didn’t do something in the very near future, then he was going to have a severe problem on his hands. There was only one thing for it: time to go crazy. Ken growled with anger, putting all his strength into those steel fingers.
Red made a soft whining noise and started to do his own share of ‘going crazy’. The power in his bucking torso was the most Ken had ever encountered, he felt himself being shoved out of the door. He dug deeper with his thumbs, feeling the right one curling into the eye socket beneath, warm fluid flushed over his hand. Red went nuts, and Ken held on tight.