by Kit Nash
SOME UNKNOWN TIME later, they stopped. Ridzik raised his head and saw they were idling in front of a junkyard.
“Where’d the blood go?” Ridzik asked.
Kelby pointed. He followed her finger in time to see the glob of blood squeeze through one of the holes in the chain link fence. Kelby killed the engine and jumped off the bike, dropping the kickstand in one smooth motion. She crossed to the fence and scaled it.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“We’ve come this far.”
“But what about the barbed wire?”
Kelby climbed to the top of the fence and easily maneuvered her lithe body over the razor wire coiled along the top of the fence. She dropped to the ground inside the perimeter of the junkyard.
“It’ll only get you, if you let it. Now, get your ass over that fence, Ridzik. I may need more blood.”
She sprinted off after his plasma.
Sighing, he climbed the fence. It was much harder than she made it look. He dropped into the junkyard with three fresh cuts and a new hole in his shirt. He saw Kelby’s pink hair bouncing in the darkness ahead of him. She turned left and disappeared behind a rusted pick up truck. He raced to catch up. He found Kelby standing in front of a Pontiac Firebird with four flat tires.
“Do you need more blood?” he asked.
“You are blind, Ridzik. It’s right there. Look!”
She pointed, and he followed to where her finger was aimed. She was right. How had he missed it? It was right in front of them. A hunk of curved metal a foot long and six inches wide was protruding out of the Firebird’s windshield. It reminded Ridzik of the images you see after a natural disaster. He grabbed a hold of the metal with both hands and pulled.
Nothing happened.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled. The cords in his neck bulged.
Again nothing happened.
It had taken a lot of force to lodge the metal into the windshield.
“Easy, King Arthur,” Kelby laughed.
“Okay. So how do we pull it out?” Ridzik asked, massaging his hands.
“We don’t. It’ll come to us.”
Smiling, she shrugged out of her backpack and dropped to one knee. She unzipped the bag and reached in with both hands. Ridzik watched with bated breath. His pulse was pounding. He was more excited than he wanted to admit. His breath caught when Kelby withdrew her hands. Laying flat on her palms was the Rectifier. It was a mixture of the lobstered gauntlets worn by knights in the middle ages and the Nintendo Power glove from the ‘80s. Except this glove was rated mature. A piercing blue light shone through a hole along the right side of the glove. Ridzik had no doubt that, this was where the missing piece belonged.
Keeping her hands flat, Kelby walked towards the Firebird. The metal piece lodged in the windshield vibrated on its own accord. A low hum emitted from the Rectifier in Kelby’s hands. She continued towards the car. The piece in the windshield vibrating more violently with each step. Metal ground against glass as the thing fought to free itself from the jagged hole. The windshield spider webbed. Kelby stood at the front bumper and held the Rectifier out in front of her. Her concentrated features were painted blue from the alien glow. To Ridzik, she looked like she was offering a sacrifice. Perhaps she was. The object came free with an explosion of glass as the windshield shattered into a million useless shards. Ridzik instinctively shielded his eyes. He looked up in time to see the metal section, which was now obviously a vambrace, slid into place smothering the blue light, save for one large crystal on the forearm and four smaller ones on each of the knuckles. As one, they shone with same blue vibrancy.
The Rectifier was complete.
Kelby smiled. It was as triumphant as it was infectious. Ridzik found himself smiling back at her. Then the Ford truck parked in the aisle across them flipped into the air. Ridzik stood frozen as the truck tittered on its front bumper, the rusted out bed waving in the air, as if the vehicle were performing a handstand. Kelby, still holding the Rectifier in her palms, slowly turned and looked over her shoulder.
Only when the truck started its descent, did Ridzik realize that Kelby was standing directly in the path.
“Lookout!”
He rushed forward. His voice must have shocked Kelby into motion. Unfortunately, she sprinted the wrong direction and ran directly into Ridzik. They collided, the air rushing out of their lungs. They sprawled in the dirt. The truck landed with a metallic crash, caving in the roof of the Firebird. The cab of the truck was digging into the dirt where Kelby had been standing seconds before.
“Are you okay?” Ridzik asked.
Instead of answering, she said, “Where’s the Rectifier?”
They looked around. The weapon was nowhere in sight. They both jumped as the overturned truck rocked to one side. Holy Shit! The truck is a fucking Decepticon, Ridzik’s mind raced. But that nightmare was put the rest by the vision of a giant walking across the belly of the overturned truck. The figure dropped to the ground, size 14 boots, leaving permanent indentions in the dirt. Ridzik’s eyes tracked upward, past the thigh muscles bulging against jeans, the massive arms hanging off an equally massive torso and chest, to a face that Ridzik had just met but would never forget.
Joe the Mountain, stared down at them. Back at the Lair, when he punched Ridzik, his face had been blank almost bored even. As if breaking stranger’s noses with his fist was as exciting as eating a protein bar. Now he leered at them with a maniacal twinkle in his eyes.
“Give me the Rectifier,” Joe demanded.
How does he know about the Rectifier, Ridzik thought. Kelby was way ahead of him.
“Find the Rectifier and get the hell out of Hemisphere!” Kelby said and then she was on her feet and charging towards Joe. The bouncer swiped at her with one massive hand. Kelby dodged the strike and side-kicked him in the stomach. Ridzik didn’t know martial arts, but he’d seen enough to know Kelby’s form was perfect. Her kick would’ve knocked any normal sized man on his ass. But a fly might’ve had more effect on Joe, because he didn’t even grunt. The Mountain swiped at Kelby and again she evaded his reach. She glanced over shoulder and saw Ridzik still lying in the dirt.
“Move your ass, Ridzik!”
He scrambled to his feet and looked around for the Rectifier. He did his best to ignore the sounds of fighting going on behind him. Kelby was the more skilled fighter, but Joe’s strength more than made up for it. It would be all over if he ever got his hands on her. He shoved the thought from his mind and concentrated on the task at hand.
Find the Rectifier.
Where had the damn thing gone? He didn’t see it anywhere. Standing on his knees, he spun in a circle, looking in all directions. He saw no metal gauntlet, but he saw Kelby land a front snap-kick in the middle of Joe’s back. Ridzik had no doubt the kick had been hard enough to break a board, but again it had minimal effect on Joe. The force of the blow caused him to stumble forward, but he quickly recovered and went back to chasing his prey. Ridzik forced himself to look away. He had to find the Rectifier. It had been knocked from Kelby’s hands, so it could not have gone far. Unless the thing flew away under its own power, which was entirely possible as far as he knew. But Kelby had told him to find it, which meant that she believed it was nearby. Suddenly, an idea struck him. He laid down on his stomach, hands held out to his sides as if he were going to do a push-up. He looked underneath all the cars in the vicinity.
There it is was. Resting against the back left tire of a Suburban. He crawled forward on his hands and knees and reached under the abandoned family vehicle. His fingers closed around the metal weapon and he withdrew his hand. He stared down at the metal glove. It wasn’t as heavy as he imagined it to be. Kelby held it with both hands as if it weighed as much as a bar of gold. He got to his feet. The first part of his task was complete. Now he was supposed to get the hell out of Hemisphere. But How? He was surrounded by hundreds of cars that would probably never run again. The only working vehicle in the vicinity was a motorcycl
e he didn’t know how to ride. Even if he got back to his rental parked at The Lair and drove away from Hemisphere, where would he go? What was he supposed to do with the Rectifier? Use it as a center piece for his coffee table? What would Dee say when he showed it to her?
There was only one person that knew what needed to happen next, and she was currently fighting a Mountain. Ridzik rushed back to find Joe holding Kelby by the throat. Her boots dangled helplessly three feet above the ground. She beat against Joe’s massive arm with both fists. But it was as futile as the rest of her attacks.
“Let her go!” Ridzik yelled.
Joe turned towards him, keeping his arm outstretched, Kelby dangling from his grip as if she weighed nothing. His mouth was bloody, and he was missing a tooth. Kelby had given him her all.
“Give me the Rectifier,” Joe said.
“I said let her go!”
Joe tossed Kelby aside, she landed on the hood of a nearby car and rolled off out of a view. The bouncer was like a kid tossing away an unwanted toy for a new one. Unfortunately the desired toy was in Ridzik’s hands. Joe lumbered forward on powerful legs. Ridzik stepped back and bumped into a car. There was nowhere to go.
“Stop!” Ridzik yelled.
It had no effect. Joe was coming.
Kelby couldn’t stop him with her skills and Ridzik didn’t know the first thing about fighting. What chance did he have? If he didn’t come up with a plan fast, he was as good as dead. Ridzik did the only thing he could think of. He slipped his right hand into the glove.
“Nooooooo!” he heard Kelby scream. He thought she was screaming at Joe. Only later would he learn that she was screaming at him.
The outside of the glove was hard-edged and cold so Ridzik was surprised to find the inside was as soft as velvet. Immediately his hand tingled as if he had slept on it and the circulation was just returning. He gasped when the gauntlet clamped down on his hand.
Then Joe split into two beings.
One version of Joe was the same Joe he’d always known and hated, but shimmering behind that version, impossibly occupying the same space was a nightmarish creature. Where Joe’s massive frame should’ve been was a figure with wiry black hair. His hands were claws that would make Wolverine jealous. His bloody mouth was a maw full of needle sharp teeth, all accounted for and ready to tear flesh. Red glowing orbs beamed out of Joe’s eye sockets.
This was a demon. Joe the Doorman was being possessed by a demon. Ridzik knew it with every inch of his being, even though he had never seen one in his life.
“Give me the Rectifier,” the creature demanded in Joe’s voice.
Ridzik felt a hairy hand close around his throat. Claws dug into the soft flesh of his neck. His hand, his right hand, shot out reflexively in a halt gesture that would’ve made Ironman proud. The Rectifier hummed to life as it suddenly morphed into a gun that most closely resembled a futuristic double barrel sawed off shotgun.
BOOM!
A stream of white dust exploded from the blue glowing barrels. The blast obliterated half of Joe’s human face. There was a shrill shriek followed by black smoke boiling out of the hole where the right side of Joe’s face had been. The smoke poured out in a giant rolling cloud and then disappeared into the night sky. When Ridzik looked back at Joe, there was only one Joe. Same regular nose breaking Joe. Well, not the same Joe. This Joe was missing half his face. Flesh hung in tatters off the side of his large head, exposing a hollowed out eye socket, a bit of jaw bone, and what was left of his teeth. Blood and brains dribbled out of his cracked skull and splatted on his traps. Impossibly, the man was still on his feet, but not for long. He wobbled like a man who was missing half his skull.
“Show me,” he said, the words coming out of the only side of his mouth that remained. Then he collapsed in the dirt. More brains spilled out when his head impacted the ground.
The Rectifier returned to the shape of a hand on its own accord. As if it knew the threat had been eliminated. Ridzik saw Kelby walking towards him. She didn’t look happy. He wanted to ask her a million questions, but the need to vomit overrode his desire for knowledge. He turned to retch, and the world went dark. The last thing he saw was the ground rushing up at him.
To Be Continued…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kit Nash is a pen name for Chris Sapp, author of the Johnny Lonesome action-thrillers. He also co-wrote the indie produced film The Silent Thief.