by Gord Zajac
Riggs’s eyes went wide. “Karnage.”
Karnage stood to his full height and removed his helmet. His voice dropped an octave. “You know, Roach, you’d think after serving with me for so long, you might be wise to some of my tricks.”
Karnage aimed the goober rifle at Riggs’s head. “Or were you too busy saving your own skin all the time to notice?”
Riggs swallowed hard. He adopted a calm, forceful tone. “Now, John, don’t—”
Karnage fired. Riggs’s world filled with dark angry pink. Over the crackle of the fast hardening goober, Riggs could just make out the words, “That’s Major to you.”
MK#4: KAMP KARNAGE
CHAPTER ONE
With the entire force out looking for them, Karnage and Stumpton marched through the halls of the precinct with impunity, saluting the occasional security camera along the way.
“Where we going now, Major?” Stumpton asked.
“Camp Bailey,” Karnage said. “You know the Godmaster Array?”
“I do,” Stumpton said.
“Think you can operate it?”
“You’re asking a communications guy if he can operate a communications array?”
“You ever worked it before?”
“No, but I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“Good enough for me,” Karnage said. “Consider yourself drafted, Stumpton.”
“My friends call me Stumpy.”
“Does that mean you are offering me your friendship?”
“That I am, sir.” Stumpy put out his hand.
Karnage shook it. “Then I accept. Now let’s find ourselves some wheels.”
The only vehicle left in the parking garage was the captain’s cruiser. Stumpy hotwired it and the two of them took off across the desert. To avoid roadblocks and patrols, Stumpy steered them out into the open desert, avoiding the roads altogether.
“With hoverballs you technically don’t need roads at all,” Stumpy explained, tapped the dash. “Just got to be a bit careful over the bigger bumps. Don’t want to risk a flat tire.”
“You can get a flat with these things?”
“Kinda. You hit something hard enough, it can crack one of your hoverballs. Or worse, shatter it.”
“How do they work, anyway?”
“The hoverballs?” Stumpy shrugged. “Nobody knows.”
“You ever crack one open before?”
“Oh yeah. Huge mistake. Nothing inside but nasty yellow gas. Stinks something awful.”
Karnage pointed to the steering wheel. “Nice to see the cops get steering wheels.”
“Good thing, too. Those DabneyNet hookups won’t let you leave the road.”
Karnage looked at the mangled twist of wires that had been the DabneyNet screen. “You sure they can’t track us?”
“Not without that antenna we ripped off. I’m telling you, Major, we’re safe. They’ll never find us out here. Nobody even goes near the old army base anymore. Not even the Dabneycops.”
“Why’s that?”
Stumpy shrugged. “Nobody knows. But that makes our job easier. We can waltz in there and get that Godmaster Array up and running without worrying about any Dabneycops breathing down our necks.”
“Yeah.” Karnage wondered what else might be waiting for them there. “How long before we get there?”
“Should get there by nightfall. You just relax, Major. I got everything under control. Shit, you look like hell. When’s the last time you slept?”
“Does being knocked unconscious count?”
“Nope.”
“Then it’s been a while.”
“Maybe you should try and catch a few zeds while you can. Be all fresh and prepped for the mission ahead.”
“What about you?”
“Are you kidding? I haven’t felt this alive in years. I feel like I’m just finally waking up, and I’m loving every minute of it.” Stumpy gave a holler and pumped his stump.
Karnage smiled. He settled back in his seat, and closed his eyes. It was good to be back out under the sun again. And this time with purpose. He had a plan. He even had a platoon. Sure, his platoon consisted of a solitary one-handed rifleman, but it was a start. Progress was being made. He’d save his troopers yet.
Cookie. Velasquez. Heckler. Koch. Just sit tight. I’m comin’ for you. I’m comin’ . . . . ”
CHAPTER TWO
Riggs blew his nose again. The tissue still came away pink. His body ached from being pinned against the shelves for so long. It had been hours before they had finally found him—another couple of hours before he was finally goober-free and sitting back at his desk, blowing pink goober into a thousand and one tissues, dreading the moment when that phone would finally ring. All the promises he’d made. The reassurances he’d given. How was he going to explain all this?
There was a knock at the door.
“What is it?”
Murtaugh stuck his head into the office. “Someone from head
office here to see you.” Riggs’s heart dropped into his stomach. They had skipped the phone call and gone right for the face-to-face meeting. He smoothed the wrinkles out of his uniform. “Send him in.”
A man in a chauffeur’s outfit entered the office, his coat buttoned from knee to collar. The visor of his cap sparkled. His boots shone. He wore elegant black gloves that came up to his elbows. Giant inkblack driving goggles covered his eyes. His tightly pursed lips carried the barest hint of a smile, as if he was amused by some private joke that only he was privy to, and had absolutely no desire to share with anyone else. He looked like a military officer come to deliver Riggs to his court martial.
“Captain Riggs?” The chauffeur extended a gloved hand towards Riggs. “I’m Patrick, Mr. Dabney’s representative.”
Riggs took the outstretched hand. “You’ll pardon me if I ask which Mr. Dabney you’re here on behalf of?”
The curled lips parted slightly—the movement reminded Riggs of a straight razor slicing open the soft white belly of a corpse—and Riggs caught the barest glimpse of teeth.
“Of course,” Patrick said. “There are so many of them running around that it’s hard to keep track. I’m here on behalf of Mr. Steve Dabney. Doubtless you’ve heard of him?”
Riggs’s heart dropped out of his stomach, through his lower intestine, then slithered down his leg onto the floor. He did his best imitation of a smile. “Of course,” he said.
Patrick reached into his coat. “Mr. Dabney sends his regrets. He wanted to deliver this message to you in person, but business has called him away.” Riggs half-expected to see Patrick pull a gun from his coat. Instead, he pulled out an interoffice envelope. He unwound the string holding it closed.
“I realize this all may seem a bit . . . dramatic, but he didn’t want to risk sending this through regular channels.”
Riggs nodded, pretending he understood. Whether the hatchet was delivered in person or by special courier, that blade was still whistling for his neck. It didn’t much matter how it was delivered.
Patrick flipped open the envelope and pulled out a tablet. He held it in front of his chest and flicked it on. Steve Dabney appeared on the screen. He wore his trademark blue turtleneck and corduroy pants. His close-cropped hair and wireframe glasses made him look much younger than he was. He flashed a smile so charming it could sweep the habit off a nun; it only half-worked on Riggs. He knew what the man behind the smile was capable of.
“Malcolm! I’m sorry to have to handle things like this, but I’m in the middle of some sensitive negotiations and I can’t pull myself away.” Steve glanced from side to side, then leaned in closer to the screen. “Look, let’s cut right to the chase: you fucked up. I mean, you really screwed the pooch on this one. The board is screaming for your head.”
Riggs braced himself. Here it comes.
“So I’m removing you from the Karnage assignment.” Steve raised his hands towards the screen, palms up. “Now, look. Don’t panic. Things look bad, I know. But I’ve been
talking you up to our silent partners here. They’re very interested in your extensive knowledge of the good major. They want to make you part of their team. A consultant of sorts—we’re still ironing out the details. I can’t get too specific, but I can say that this is a fast-growing organization with plenty of room for advancement.
“Now, I may have jumped the gun a bit here, but I went with my gut and accepted the contract for you. You’re not going to let me down by saying no, are you? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity here. You’d be a fool to pass it up. You’re not going to let me down, Malcolm, are you? You’re taking this position, yes?” Steve nodded, answering the question for himself. “Good. It’s settled, then. You can hitch a ride with Patrick here. He’ll deliver you to our silent partners. Be well, Malcolm. See you.”
The tablet blinked off. Riggs stared at the blank screen. He looked up at Patrick.
Patrick returned Riggs’s gaze. “Not quite the reprimand you were expecting, sir?”
CHAPTER THREE
Karnage felt something nudge his shoulder. He pulled himself up from sleep and saw it was Stumpy’s stump. “Wake up, Major. We’re almost there.”
Karnage rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “How much farther?”
“Not far,” Stumpy tapped the dashboard screen. “According to those Globesat coordinates you gave me, it shouldn’t be more than a few klicks.”
Karnage stretched and looked out the window. The desert landscape was dotted with massive pits of black tar. Gnarled pink plants grew around the edges. Ropey tendrils of orange interwove themselves around the pink, snaking from one tar pit to the next.
“What the fuck is all this?” Karnage asked.
“That’s pinkstink,” Stumpy pointed to a clump of pink flowers as they passed. “Scrunch it in your fingers and it gives off an awful smell. The viney stuff is orange creeper. Grows like a weed. It gets in everything. Tear it down one day, and it grows back up the next. A real pain in the ass.”
Karnage gazed out at the landscape. “This all used to be trees, Stumpy. Pine and cedar and shit. And now . . . now there ain’t even stumps. It’s all so different. So . . .” A chill ran down Karnage’s spine. “. . . alien.”
There was an ear splitting bang, and the car lurched forward.
Karnage braced himself against the dashboard. “What the hell’d we hit?!”
“I don’t know!”
There was another bang, and the back of the car pitched upward. Stumpy pointed his stump behind them. “It’s comin’ from the trunk!”
“I think our passenger is finally awake,” Karnage said.
The rear of the car lurched again and slammed into the ground hard. Yellow gas spewed from the driver’s side.
“We got a flat!” Stumpy slammed on the brakes and pulled the cruiser over. The banging and lurching got worse.
They got out of the car and inspected the damage. A crack had formed in one of the hoverballs. Yellow smoke spewed from the crack. The car lurched again, and the ball slammed into the ground. Another crack appeared.
Stumpy shook his head. “If she keeps this up, we won’t have a ball left to float on!”
“Can you fix it?”
Stumpy ran his fingers along the cracks. “I think so. Grab me a goober rifle.”
Karnage fished a goober rifle out of the back seat. Stumpy took the rifle, and cracked it open.
“What are you doing?”
“Breakin’ the seals. Kills the pressure from the nozzle. It gets messy, but it should work.” Stumpy snapped the rifle back together. He pulled the trigger. Half-hearted spurts of goober oozed from the nozzle. Stumpy placed the nozzle against the hoverball and ran it down the crack, leaving a line of goober in its wake that swelled and filled the crack. The yellow smoke thinned out to a fine trickle. Stumpy tossed the goober rifle to the ground as it was slowly engulfed in the pink stuff oozing from its seams. He patted the hoverball.
“That should hold us for a while. Should be enough to get us to Camp Bailey, anyway, so long as our passenger doesn’t screw things up.”
The car lurched again.
“It doesn’t sound like she’s gonna be all that cooperative.” Karnage fished another goober rifle out of the backseat. He turned to Stumpy. “Get behind the wheel. When I give you the signal, pop the trunk.”
Stumpy eyed the rifle. “What are you going to do?”
Karnage switched off the rifle’s safety. “I’m gonna reason with her.”
Karnage stood in front of the trunk, goober rifle at the ready. He signalled to Stumpy. Stumpy popped the trunk. The lid flew open and the duffel bag launched itself into the air. It crashed into Karnage, knocking him to the ground. Karnage rolled out from underneath it and scrambled to his feet. He pinned the gyrating bag with the butt of his rifle. The bag writhed under the rifle like an angry snake, trying to wiggle free. Karnage reached forward and unzipped the bag. Sydney’s tousled head burst out. Her face was red. Her eyes shot daggers at Karnage. Her mouth was covered with a strip of duct tape. It flexed in and out as she let loose an angry tirade of muffled curses that would have made Velasquez proud. Karnage waited until she had exhausted her expansive vocabulary, then saluted. “Evening, Captain.”
Sydney glared at Karnage, her eyes full of hate.
“I apologize for the bumpy ride,” he said. “I’ll admit this ain’t exactly the sort of treatment suited to an officer of your calibre, but it’s the best we could do under the circumstances. We should be far enough from the enemy that your gag won’t be necessary. If I may, Captain?”
Sydney stared at Karnage with a cold, burning hate. Karnage took that for assent. He grabbed the corner of the duct tape, and ripped it off with a quick snap. Sydney’s teeth grazed his knuckles as he pulled his hand clear. The clack of her teeth snapping shut echoed across the desert.
“Easy there, Captain. You nearly took my hand off.”
“Sorry,” Sydney said. “I won’t miss next time.”
Karnage nodded. “Good. Either do the job right the first time or don’t do it at all. Sometimes you don’t get a second chance.”
Sydney scowled. “You know, taking me hostage was probably the stupidest thing you could possibly have done.”
“Hostage? Oh, no. You ain’t no hostage. Not by a long shot. You’re a POW, with all the inherent rights and privileges therein. And as for me bein’ stupid, from what I’ve seen you’re probably the only Dabneycop with even half a chance of bringin’ me in. So long as I keep you with me, you can’t be plannin’ any nasty surprises for me and Stumpy here. This way I know exactly where you are and what you’re up to.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed?”
“If you like.”
“Well, I’m not. You’ll find I’m very hard to hold onto.”
Karnage smiled. “You’re angry. I get that. Mad. Pissed off. Hopin’ to cause me a lot o’ trouble as soon as you’re able.”
“You got that right.”
“And you understand o’ course why I can’t let that happen.”
“And what do you plan on doing about it?”
“Well, I could just knock you cold with the butt o’ my rifle here. But I thought I’d give you a choice first. See if you’d be willin’ to keep your temper.”
“I’m sorry, are you asking me to behave myself?”
“I am,” Karnage said. “Only until we get to our destination. Then you can jump up and down and scream and holler, and raise any kind o’ holy hell you like.”
“And where are you going?”
“Camp Bailey.”
Sydney furrowed her eyebrows. “Camp Bailey? Why the hell would you go there?”
“Stumpy and I are gonna fire up the Godmaster Array and stir up some shit. Ain’t that right, Corporal?”
Stumpy saluted. “Sir, yes, sir!”
Sydney looked incredulously from one to the other. “You can’t be serious. Do you have any idea what’s waiting for you out there? No, of course not. If you did, you wouldn’t eve
n be thinking of trying something so damn stupid.”
“Why? What’s out there?”
“The Church of Spragmos.”
Stumpy fell back against the car with a loud thud. “Sweet Christ, say it ain’t so.”
“It’s so. It’s beyond so. It couldn’t be more so. It’s the biggest so in the whole damn universe, that’s how so it is.”
Stumpy slid down the car. “Fuck me running . . .”
Karnage turned from one to the other. “Wait a minute. Hold on here. The Church of what?!”
“The Church of Spragmos,” Sydney said.
“Spragmos . . . you mean like the gun manufacturer?!”
“That’s right.”
“What the fuck do they worship? Guns?”
“No,” Sydney said.
“They worship . . . The Worm.” Stumpy was clutching his arms to his sides.
“Okay, so they worship a worm.”
“Not a worm,” Sydney said. “The Worm.”
“All right. The Worm. What the hell difference does it make?”
Sydney stared at Karnage. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“No, I do not fucking know. I spent the last twenty years locked up in a goddamn insane asylum. There is a lot I do not know. Now quit starin’ at me like I got monkeys growin’ outta my ears and tell me just what is so goddamn frightening about this goddamn worm!”
“There’s not much to tell,” Sydney said. “Nobody knows where it came from. But it’s real. And it’s dangerous.”
“How dangerous?” Karnage asked.
“Dangerous enough that we stopped sending troops out to the base because they weren’t coming back.”
“So you just let those bastards dig in and grow stronger, while you hole up in your office suckin’ yer thumb, hopin’ they go away?!”
“You think I didn’t try?! I filed thirty different requests for counter-terrorism support! Those bastards left me twisting in the wind! You tell me what I was supposed to—”
A shuddering screech hurtled across the desert, a violent, jagged line of sound that cut through Karnage like a knife ripping through fabric. “What the fuck was that?”