Crime Rave

by Sezin Koehler

  Lily hears a carnival barker’s voice in her head.

  Come one! Come all! Feast your eyes upon the world’s newest freak! Half human! Half stone!

  The Countess cannot scream, breathing is excruciating as her lungs strain, encased in her stone skin. Her eyes flit here and there, desperate for redemption. Forgiveness even. Something that would never come.

  Lily moves the Countess Barona to the bed on which the scripted gang rape was to occur. She finds herself a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, clothing that seems very much out of place amid the creepy and slutty versions of children’s clothing filling the so-called wardrobe department.

  Lily looks at the Countess, whose face is etched in a horrific grimace of pain. Lily smiles. In pain, but not dead yet. Suffer the hurters of children. Lily walks up the basement steps, reaches the door, kicks it open. Turns back to take one last look at her handiwork. Satisfied. She goes to set everyone in the Countess’s employ free. The camera whirrs away, documenting the new and improved Countess Barona as she awaits a fate similar to her former wards: a long and painful death.

  7:40 PM Spruce-Musa Hospital

  Colonel Ransom monitors the extraction team hovering above the hospital through closed circuit cameras on board the ship. He sees the Shark Girl leave the docking station. Women. Bladders like peanuts. He also watches the soldiers performing the subterranean assault of Spruce-Musa via cameras embedded in their helmets. The underground extraction team, having navigated the Los Angeles sewer and metro system, is lead by spider-human hybrid Spiederman. They have already penetrated Spruce-Musa’s basement and use the air vents to crawl their way up to the fourth floor. Nary a detection yet. Everything is going as planned.

  On board the alien craft, the pilot’s voice intones over the loudspeaker moments out from landing.

  “Time to suit up, boys!” Corporal Meat crows, slapping Shark Girl on the shoulder. She bares her teeth at him, he notices the blood and flesh stuck in her gums but is too adrenaline amped to process what that might mean. As they come in to land on the hospital’s roof, gunfire breaks out from the heavy police presence.

  “Fuck!” Jason Mars screams as the craft swerves back into the air. “Just vaporize them!”

  The spaceship pilot engages the weapons lock and shoots gamma rays at the SWAT team machine-gun firing below, wasting bullets on an impervious ship. The high-frequency waves turn the SWAT members to dust, one by one. Their bulletproof vests and accouterments fall to the ground in piles like anthills dotting the hospital roof.

  With the coast marginally clear, the pilot opens the hatch and drops down a chain link ladder. The Roswell grunts go first, their black-suited bodies disappearing from the bulkhead and dropping onto the concrete.

  Alerted by the ruckus above, police and more SWAT flood onto the roof, each one taken out by the far superior machinery wielded by the Roswell Institute’s paramilitary force.

  More LAPD backup is on the way, but it won’t arrive in time to prevent the Roswell Institute extraction team from breaching the hospital.

  The extraction team leader, Smash, takes point as the group enters the stairwell taking them down to the fourth floor wherein the Crane Massacre survivors are housed—future Institute residents all.

  Tiburona takes up the rear, already feeling hungry again.

  From the Roswell Institute, Colonel Ransom reminds the soldiers to disable the gamma rays before entering the fourth floor. “The subjects are to be taken alive!” he screams, making sure he’s heard over the guns.

  Downstairs, Chamelia, NRG, and Secrete enter battle mode, knowing the ruckus above is Colonel Ransom’s handiwork, here to re-prison them in that underground hell. The Institute’s finally arrived.

  “Get ready to fight these fuckers with everything you’ve got!” Chamelia screams, and the group collectively nods, bracing themselves.

  The gunfire draws closer and closer.

  In a phalanx the survivors look toward the emergency exit, hearing the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching fast from upstairs.

  “Detective!” Chamelia shouts. “When you see them, get behind the nurse’s station. Don’t be a hero, okay? We’ve got this.”

  The bird girl Asha Kinsella and Karma Devi take up the rear of the company of Crane survivors after silver-eyed Connie Jones tells them soldiers are coming from the basement and vents, as per her vision.

  Hearts pounding, they wait. The gunfire finally stops. More footsteps. A herd.

  Red Feather lets off a warning shot up the stairwell and backs away from the door, placing himself in a sniper position from behind the nurse’s station.

  Chamelia looks at Teresa Chalmers, the screamer, as the thud of heavy-booted feet comes nearer and nearer. “When I say.”

  Teresa nods, readying herself.

  In a burst the first round of Roswell Institute strike team members bust through the emergency exit and charge.

  “Now!” Chamelia shouts.

  The survivors cover their ears and duck as Teresa screams the scream that so effectively shorted out hospital electronics hours before.

  It’s different now: This time, she’s in control.

  Helmets smash, glass exploding into eyes and mouths, thirteen of the human soldiers falling to the ground, dead.

  NRG shoots knives at the open helmets of the eight still standing, killing the remainder instantly.

  Panting, the women turn to each other, tempted to give high-fives, but the fierce look on Chamelia’s lizard face stops them.

  “Was that it?” Trip asks, breathing hard and slobbering in her werewolf form.

  “I seriously doubt it,” Secrete says, knowing firsthand Ripper Ransom’s penchant for bloody mayhem, but still hopes otherwise.

  7:50 PM The Barona Estate

  Günn pulls up to the gates, tires screeching and leaving a symmetrical rubber stain on the Countess’s pristine driveway. She pulls out her badge and unclips the holster of her gun. Two ways this is gonna go: bloody easy or bloody hard. She’s prepared for both.

  “Detective Synthia Günn, LAPD, open up.”

  “You got a warrant?” The security guard has beady hyena eyes and a hunch in his shoulders that deepens when he smells bacon.

  “Don’t need a warrant. I’m just here to talk.”

  The guard shakes his head. “No can do, Officer.” The corner of his lip turns up. “Unless you have some way to make it worth my while.” He would love to see this blonde LAPD pig’s head bobbing up and down over his lap.

  “Open this gate right now or I’ll arrest for obstruction of justice and propositioning a police officer and open it myself.”

  The security guard hears her flick the safety off her gun. He’s not getting paid enough to deal with this bullshit.

  “Oink oink,” he says as he walks back into his booth and pushes the button.

  Günn flicks him off as she drives in to the lush estate that only an unfortunate few have seen from the inside. The entire estate is sealed off by twelve-foot high concrete walls ornately carved in Baroque designs to look like paintings instead of a fortress. Günn hears the meditative trickle of a fountain just out of sight and imagines a swimming pool in the style of old Hollywood. The night is windy and the sound of bamboo swaying feels like ants over her skin.

  She follows the driveway for an eternity until the mansion rises up through the foliage, an evil queen’s castle. Günn has the worst foreboding she’s ever had in her life. Swallowing bile, she drives on through the path that ends in a roundabout dwarfed by the massive carved-wood door, further dwarfing the off-duty cop who stands sentinel, arms crossed with a semi-automatic pistol flush against his chest.

  Günn parks and exits her car, gun drawn. He walks over.

  “Murphy? The fuck you doing here? I heard you’re suspended after you got that kid to
lawyer up.” Dimwit.

  Ex-detective Finian Murphy scowls. “Fuck you, meth-head slut. I’m here as private security. I’m packing my own heat.” He points his Glock at her.

  “Get that thing out of my face, you sorry excuse for a douchebag. Out of my way.”

  Günn pushes past Murphy and he stumbles. She doubles up the steps to the door when Murphy grabs her foot and she falls face-first, smashing her shin and chest on the stairs.

  “You motherfucker!” Günn turns through the pain and kicks him in the face, sending him reeling and blood gushing from a broken nose and split lip. He covers his mouth and Günn sees that he’s crying. Jesus Christ.

  “I’m warning you, Murphy. Stay back. Don’t make me fucking arrest you.”

  Murphy fires at Günn and misses. He’s famous for the worst scores on the range in the entire unit.

  “Stand DOWN, asshole! I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.” Günn breathes heavy, she’s never had occasion to fire her gun on the job before. How many more firsts will this day bring?

  “Put the goddamn gun down and back the fuck away, Murphy.”

  Günn fires a warning shot at Murphy’s feet, spraying shards of stone into his calves and cutting him.

  “Do it, Dumbo! NOW.”

  Murphy snarls at the nickname. “Fuck you.”

  Günn knows he’s gonna spray her with bullets before he does. She puts a preemptive shot right in his shoulder, immobilizing his shooting arm. She feels his bullets whiz by. Missing her but close.

  Murphy screams and crumples to the ground, weeping.

  Günn breathes heavy, sonofabitch has been practicing apparently. “Stay down, fucktard.” Günn removes the clip from his gun and tosses it into the dense foliage surrounding the driveway. She handcuffs him to the squad car and slaps him across the face to make sure he knows who’s boss in this scenario.

  Murphy weeps, mumbles something unintelligible, then passes out from humiliation and blood loss.

  Günn takes the stairs by two up to the mansion’s imposing doorway. I’m here, Lily. I’m here.

  7:50 PM The Barona Estate

  Lily changes from the foul schoolgirl outfit and sets upstairs to emancipate anyone else who might still be in that woman’s clutches. Although, not all of the Countess Barona’s staff are eager to be let go after Lily’s single-eyed mutiny: Yanosh, the butler, threatens Lily with a medieval sword in perfect condition, lunging at her and snarling. As he taunts her in a volley of guttural sounds, Lily realizes that he has no tongue.

  “Did she do that to you?” Lily asks.

  Yanosh’s startled look tells Lily it’s true.

  “Oh my God. Why would you defend a woman who does this to you?” Lily didn’t think anything would ever surprise her again. Wrong.

  Yanosh pauses. “Sheee mah maaaaahm.” He says in mostly vowels. She’s my mom.

  Lily thinks about her own mom. “Please, I don’t want to fight you. Just take money and go before I call the police. I won’t even tell them about you. Please just go!”

  Yanosh considers, the image of his mother half turned to stone burned in his mind. He drops the sword and nods.

  Lily sits in the foyer by the telephone. Waits until Yanosh comes down with a large Burberry suitcase. Lily smiles at him, he responds with a death stare. “Ooon deeey Ah fah ooo Ah illlll ooooo,” he spits. One day I’ll find you and kill you.

  “Good luck with that.” Lily’s sympathy runs out quick.

  Gunshots ring from outside.

  Yanosh and Lily turn as the front door slams open and Günn runs inside, gun still drawn.

  “Freeze, asshole. Put your hands behind your head!”

  “Detective!” Lily cries. “You came!”

  Günn doesn’t take her eyes from Yanosh, who drops his suitcase and complies.

  “Of course I did.” Günn cuffs Yanosh and dumps him on the stairs, taking out her phone and calling the new crime scene in to headquarters.

  Günn finally turns to Lily, who has tears streaming from her one eye. Lily rushes the detective and picks her up off her feet in the biggest hug Günn has ever received, Günn’s slim frame enveloped in Lily’s giant one.

  “Thank you,” Lily says with a small sob, putting the detective back on her own two feet. “Are you hurt?”

  Günn smoothes down her mussed pixie cut. “I’m fine. You?” She can’t see Lily’s only wounds are to her pride. “Looks like you had things under control. Where’s that countess bitch?”

  Lily points to the basement door. “Brace yourself. It’s really ugly in there. Self-defense.”

  Günn recalls the description of Lily’s orphanage supervisor as a pile of dust, but nothing prepares her for the sculpture garden of pornography in the cellar, courtesy of Lily’s Gorgon eye. Günn puzzles over the scene in the basement. The literally petrified bodies.

  And a still-breathing Countess Barona, half turned to stone.

  Günn can only deduce they all received the same fate as the man who tried to molest Lily, as impossible as that scenario might have seemed. She also sees a now-catatonic Tawny Porthole, former porn star turned costume mistress, the sole survivor of Lily’s well-deserved rampage.

  The video camera still records, making a whirring sound that feels like nails on a blackboard to the detective. Günn stops it and rewinds, watching the time stamp travel backward. Her suspicions come to fruition: she watches as Lily turns each of these people to stone, her eye glowing red. She saves the Countess for last, but doesn’t kill her all the way.

  Just when Synthia thinks that this day can’t get weirder—or more awful—it does. A karmic physics of freaky. Günn returns to Lily in the foyer and puts her arm around the girl’s shoulder, waiting for the cavalry on its way. Lily smiles and begins recounting her side of the tale.

  7:55 PM Spruce-Musa Hospital

  Asha Kinsella, aka galactic Canary, fluttering above the group, breaks into frantic birdcalls.

  “Something’s coming from back here!” Karma shouts, feeling her hysterical strength building up force from the adrenaline rush.

  Secrete and Trip turn as Spiederman in full tarantula form crashes through the air duct, jaws gnashing as he tries to bring Asha down. She screeches as his web ensnares her foot. Furious, Asha holds out her hands and fire streams forth. It’s Spiederman’s turn to screech as flames engulf him. Shame he’s fire retardant.

  Two supersoldier clones, Smash and Junk, drop down from the air vent in quick succession, gamma ray weapons drawn and fully charged. Fuck the orders to bring these bitches back alive.

  Secrete bears down and sprays them with her sleeping juice. They shake it off. Dammit. Immunized.

  “NRG, a little help?” She can’t help the desperation that’s creeped into her voice and heart. They won’t take me alive.

  NRG turns. “More!” She screams and the survivors scatter as a new volley of knives pierce the soldiers’ masks and they too fall to the floor, dead.

  Spiederman has withdrawn to a ceiling corner, trying to heal his minor burns. Asha clocks him, hands ready for another blast. Might not kill him, but it sure slows him down.

  “I fucking hate spiders!” Tashi screeches and begins stabbing at Spiederman with an IV rack. She gets in a good shot and one of his legs goes limp, blood gushing down onto the ground. He roars and launches himself onto her. She’s prepared and gores him through the heart. They both collapse on the floor, he in the final twitches of death throes. She in a charged state of elation. She wipes gore from her face, dries her blood-sticky hands on her hospital gown, and gets herself a new IV rack. “Who’s next, fuckers?” The shriek of a banshee wanting more destruction.

  From the emergency exit, more soldiers appear, weapons drawn, shouting in the tongues that only other soldiers understand.

 
“Scream!” Chamelia yells, looking at Teresa, whose nose bleeds and eyes show petechial hemorrhaging from the strain. Teresa tries, but collapses. Chamelia drags Teresa into the closest room and closes the door.

  Icarus fights the blood lust, but after nine blood bags it’s hard. He waits for a soldier to separate himself just enough from the pack and snatches him into the corridor that leads to the waiting room. Fresh blood from a fresh source. Icarus drinks deep until the moment before the soldier’s heart beats its last, a process that lasts all of thirty seconds. He tosses the man aside and charges for the next, the bloodgasm making him extra cocky and extra strong.

  Cherie and her three uteri step forward launching a full frontal pheromone assault that drops the remaining soldiers flat. Icarus the vampire has never been so aroused. She’s still menstruating.

  New sounds of crashes as soldiers rappel down from the roof and break through windows into fourth floor hospital rooms, one having the misfortune of landing into the blob’s room. He’s eaten and the blob makes a lazy crawl out the window, still growing, and off into the city below.

  From the closet Una wails at the nearby noise and gives birth to another protector blob that works its way from under the closet door, and faces the noises from out in the hallway, getting bigger and bigger with each second, preparing itself for a launch. Una passes out from exhaustion and stress.

  One soldier grabs Linda Kang in a surprise attack from behind a closed door and drags her in. She doesn’t have time to scream, but she does have time to vomit on his mask. It’s his turn to scream as the acid eats through his helmet and brain. He continues to melt even after she’s shut the door on his remains.