MUSICAroLina

by Daniel William Gunning

  It felt altogether overwhelming for a while, disorienting even, like we had no hope of coming up with anything that you couldn’t foresee. Yet somehow, glory be, you missed that one little thing, you see. That one little insignificant pistol, one tiny minute detail that caused the entire spell you had so carefully woven to unravel around you. ‘Why was that?’ you are thinking right now. It was the most miniscule of details, but as is often the case, it was also the most important. You see, John hid that gun after we got into your little town, and somehow you didn’t manage to disarm that one. Now, we had to ask ourselves, why? The obvious conclusion is that it could only mean one thing really; you may have known everything that we’d done, but you’re absolutely clueless about what we’re going to do.”

  “Well, well. Clever, boy. To tell you true, I’m almost a little impressed. But one teensy weensy li’l problem, fella: Where’s that get ya?”

  “For starters, it got us to the preacher’s sacrifice. You see, this was, as he figured, his one and only chance to end your little reign of terror here once and for all. It was his only chance to finally see you fall, so he was more than happy to give up his life to draw your attention away for just a few important seconds, to let us get the one thing we needed to defeat you.”

  “And what was that? Hurry up and get to the point already. I’m getting plumb weary of waiting for the punch line, friend,” the sheriff spat venomously, rapidly tiring of this game.

  “Oh, come on now, don’t be such a spoil sport. You don’t just skip to the end of the story; you’ll see it all soon enough. You shouldn’t be in such a hurry all the time anyway. You have an eternity, remember, and the real joy of hearing any story is in letting the storyteller unfold it before you. Revealing each layer, each more beautiful and rewarding than the last; you shouldn’t just jump to the last page. The end has no meaning without all that came before and besides, spoilers are for cowards, my dear sheriff. Now, if I may be allowed continue. We know that you and the mayor have but one weakness and it’s a rather big one, let me tell you. It’s ego, and that’s both your egos, I mean; they’re both unfathomably massive. You never could allow yourselves to conceive that after all these centuries of getting fat on the sheep of this town that someone could come into your killing fields and be a far more clever wolf than the two of you.”

  “And I suppose you think that wolf is you, boy?”

  “Oh, I don’t think it, sheriff; I know it’s me. You see, our little plan and the preacher’s noble sacrifice actually got us several things. One is a surprise we’re saving for your precious little mayor later and one is something you’re going to get to enjoy personally right now, but the other thing it got us, which is the most relevant to the matter at hand now, is you. It got us you, standing right there, in front of me, right where we wanted you to be, not knowing what the future’s about to bring down on you.”

  “And what is that, exactly?”

  “Why, your imminent death and some tiny measure of justice for all the wicked things you’ve ever done, of course. It’s kind of our specialty.”

  “And just how do you plan on conjuring up that little miracle, friend?”

  “With what we took off your desk while you were so busy watching the preacher die.”

  “And what would that be, exactly?”

  “Shotgun shells,” Kurt said matter of factly, hopping off the trunk. “Surprise!” Kurt shouted as he popped the trunk and flung it wide open. The trunk lifted open, pulling the shoestring tied to the trigger of the shotgun that Kurt had rigged up inside with the various contents of the trunk, while he had been waiting for the sheriff to arrive. Sheriff Cane, suddenly realizing what was happening, tried to lift his own shotgun in defense, but he didn’t have a chance as the blast caught him square in the chest. Fortunately for him, he was wearing his bulletproof vest, but he was still flung violently backwards by the sheer impact. His shotgun flew from his grasp and landed in the dirt several feet away. Kurt coolly grabbed a second shotgun from the trunk and pumped it as he watched the sheriff slam into the ground.

  Grinning, he strolled casually over to where the sheriff lay rolling in the dirt, and pointed his shotgun down at the sheriff’s head. Sheriff Cane was still dazed from the unexpected shotgun blast. He looked about for his gun, but he turned as Kurt’s shadow fell over him and he looked directly into the barrel of Kurt’s shotgun. Kurt smiled and said victoriously, “Now I told you it was ironic, didn’t I?”

  The sheriff winced with pain as he grimaced and said, “What was?”

  Kurt smiled widely and said, “Say your prayers.” He then pulled the trigger and spread the sheriff’s head and brains across the street like jam.

  ***

  Kurt pulled up to the police station in Sheriff Cane’s cruiser. When he saw Kurt arrive, John waved and breathed out a deep sigh of relief upon seeing his friend return unharmed. He stepped out of the front door of the police station with their bag of explosives clutched in his hands. Kurt hopped out of the cruiser and walked up to John. Wasting no time, John quickly pulled several explosives and a detonator out of the bag and tossed them to Kurt. Kurt caught them and put them in his pockets. “Did he give you any trouble?” John asked.

  “Nope, no trouble at all. He went out like a total pussy; it was very satisfying.”

  “Man, I wish I could’ve been there to see that.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty awesome; I won’t lie. If it’s any consolation to you, he won’t be seeing anything anymore and not just because he’s dead, but because he ain’t got no eyes anymore,” Kurt replied, and they both laughed morbidly.

  “All right, now. I think it’s high time that the mayor join his little friend in hell, don’t you? Get moving and remember, if all this goes south, use your explosives to blow the train off the tracks and get yourself out of town.”

  “You got it, boss,” Kurt said. He then ran off down the street and disappeared among the buildings.

  John opened the backdoor of the cruiser and hauled out the headless sheriff’s gruesome blood-soaked carcass and placed it proudly on the hood of the cruiser, propping it up comically on the windshield. After he did this, he removed the corpse’s driving gloves and pulled them onto his injured hands, ditching his ridiculous gardening gloves. “You won’t be needing these now, will you? Well, I tell you, sheriff, it certainly has been an eventful day, hasn’t it? It’s a wonder to me how you ever got to be sheriff of this here town, you know, with your penchant for losing your head when the going gets tough and all. Don’t feel bad though; I once knew a bank manager that, during a similar crisis, went completely to pieces,” John said to the bloody corpse, positively beaming with self-satisfaction as he did. He then closed the back door, opened the front, grabbed the radio receiver out of the cruiser and spoke into it. “Attention, Mister Mayor, you colossal demon douche, if you’d like to come to the police station, this time I have a little present for you.”

  ***

  The mayor strode angrily toward the police station, taking in the scene in front of him as he did. John still stood there and grinned, explosives bag in hand, by the open driver’s door of the police cruiser. The front of the cruiser was now smeared with blood and the sheriff’s body was still resting ridiculously on top. John waved a hello with the sheriff’s hand at the mayor as he approached. For the first time, John observed the mayor’s face as it contorted into a look truly worthy of a demon. He took a great measure of pride in being the cause of this.

  “Well, hello there, Mister Mayor! Why, I do believe that this is the first time I’ve ever seen you looking somewhat less than ecstatic. Why, whatever is the matter? Don’t have a catchy song for ‘my sheriff got his head blowed off’?” John called out tauntingly as the mayor approached.

  The mayor stopped just a few feet away from where John stood and said, “You know, you may find it wise not to further taunt the all-powerful demon whom you’ve just gone out of your way to anger.”

  “Oh, what’s the matter? I thought y
ou wanted to talk more later. Isn’t that what you’ve told me every time we met? Well here we are. It’s later; let’s rap.”

  “I think we can both agree that the time for talking is at an end, and, on a more personal note, I despise rap.”

  “Well, while I am very much relieved to hear that, don’t get me wrong. Hereabouts, I’d much rather hear that the time for singing is at an end.”

  “Funny, but can we please just get down to the part where I tear you into itty bitty pieces already? I’m really looking forward to getting that little chore out of the way, so I can go hunt down your little friend after I so gleefully kill you. That way, I can have the complete stooges set, in time for the ticker tape parade I plan to hold in honor of our dear departed sheriff’s memory, with the tiny remains of you three—emphasis on the tiny. Plus, I am anxious to have you all down in my tunnels; feeding me ‘til the end of time. You know, of all the souls I’ve tasted in my life, I think yours will be the sweetest.”

  “Are you hitting on me?”

  “Oh, enough of this witty banter. Time to die,” The mayor said, moving aggressively toward John.

  “Yeah, I think I’ve had enough of the empty threats, mayor. You see, you’ll find that unlike everyone else in this town, I’m not even the least bit afraid of you. You’re nothing more than some kind of egotistical, show tune-singing, devil-wannabe, reject. What’s there to be scared of?” John asked.

  As if it were his answer to the question John posed, the mayor’s face and limbs began to stretch. His flesh peeled off and his clothing tore as he transformed into that towering abomination whose image had been burned into John’s memory ever since he first laid eyes on it during that ill-fated town meeting. “Oooh yeah, that!” John said, as he quickly jumped into the police cruiser, tossing the explosives on the seat beside him as he did. He quickly slammed the door shut and buckled his seatbelt, as he said mockingly, “Safety first,” and floored it.

  The sheriff’s body slid off the hood and fell under the car. John happily ran it over, smiling and snickering as he heard the bones crunch under the wheels. The demon turned and roared in pursuit as the cruiser sped past him, its massive legs with their cruel-looking claws sank into the stone streets and cracked them, sending debris soaring into the air, rattling off the cruiser, and causing the ground to shake. He caught up to John far more quickly than John had anticipated, and the creature raised one of his claws and swung it down at the fleeing vehicle. The claw connected with the side of cruiser and sent John careening out of control. He skidded and smashed into the side of one of the houses. The airbags deployed on impact.

  John was dazed for a moment, but managed to hold it together. Rapidly, he pulled out his gun and annoyed, shot the airbag, deflating it. “Oh, come on now; isn’t using your demon powers kind of cheating!?” John yelled out of the now shattered side window, grimacing. He was noticeably shaken up from the crash, but was still laser focused on his goal. John quickly gathered himself, spun the wheel around, pulled the smashed-up cruiser back onto the road, and proceeded down the street at full speed. Unfortunately the cruiser’s top speed was simply no match for the mayor and the demon rammed into the cruiser with its whole force and sent John careening again; this time, right into the front of a house.

  The cruiser smashed hard into the front of the building, knocking through the wall. Unlike the last crash, this time John both heard and felt his bones crack with the violent impact. He looked up, but could see virtually nothing now through the cracked and bloodied windshield. He turned to the side and saw that he was only a short distance away from the town’s water tower. Reacting as swiftly as he could at this point, John put the car in reverse, hit the gas, and backed the cruiser out of the house, yelling “Sorry!” to the exceedingly shocked-looking people who had been peacefully watching TV inside. He spun the cruiser around and sped toward the shelter of the water tower. However, the demon, running alongside, raised several claws this time and brought them down directly onto the middle of the cruiser, slicing it cleanly in two, sending the halves tumbling down the street in a shower of glass, debris, and sparks.

  ***

  John lay there in the twisted wreckage of the cruiser. He was surrounded by various metal pieces, broken shards of glass, and pools of his own blood. He unbuckled his seatbelt, tumbled hard to the ground, and tried to stand, but he couldn’t as he heard the sickening sound of broken bones scraping against one another. He collapsed back to the ground in agony, various shards of debris piercing into his flesh as he did. “Oh, bad idea,” he mumbled to himself.

  John saw the demon through the shattered windows as it swiftly approached the crash site. He looked for his gun, but couldn’t find it. Knowing he had no time to properly search, he gathered all his remaining strength and, clutching his bag, dragged himself out of the vehicle and toward the water tower, leaving behind him a crimson trail of blood on the stone streets. The demon followed, just a few paces behind John, walking at a deliberately slow and steady gait now; a roaring, taunting laugh rumbling forth, emanating from that hideous, monstrous maw. It occasionally leaned down and licked at the trail of blood with what appeared to be a grin hovering on its face, or as close as that grotesque visage could come to emulating one.

  With every shred of effort he could marshal, John continued to proceed toward the water tower. Seeing where he was headed, the demon lifted a razor sharp claw and brought it down, harpooning one of John’s legs. As it lifted him high in the air; in a rumbling voice it said, “Are you honestly going to try to hide from me under the water tower?” With that, the demon flung John toward the tower as easily as a grown man flicks away an insect. John sailed through the air and collided with one of the massive cross bars on the legs of the tower, shattering more of his bones on impact. He bounced off and hit the ground violently, and then just collapsed there in a heap, face down beside the tower.

  Pain shot through John’s entire body. He just lay there, not wanting to move anymore, but knowing he had to as he violently coughed up blood. He glanced over and saw that his bag had come free from his clutches in the impact and now lay squarely beneath the tower. The demon came to a stop just a few paces away from him. John grasped at the stone pavement, desperately pulling himself along. With no shortage of considerable pain and suffering, he dragged himself the final few feet over stone and onto the grass to come to rest directly under the tower, a few feet from his explosives bag. There was not enough space between the crossbeams for the demon to enter.

  “Oh, no! I can’t get you. I can’t get under this tower because these beams are blocking me; whatever will I do? Oh wait,” the demon said mockingly, and then quick as a puff of smoke he returned to the form of the mayor, in his slick suit, twirling his cane.

  ***

  The mayor clapped his hands in mock admiration and said, “Bravo, you almost made it halfway to the town hall; that is certainly an impressive feat, my young friend. You know, I must admit, although it’s had its ups and downs, all in all, this has been a pretty good ride for me. Yes, now I have to find a new sheriff because you really killed him, and desecrated his body, you jerks, but it’s not like this town doesn’t have its fair share of cutthroats and desperados that can amply fill his sadistic shoes. Other than that and a little bit of pesky paperwork, I don’t have much left to do, when all is said and done. I’ll have to spray down the streets to be sure, but that’s a small maintenance issue really. You’ve even conveniently brought me right to the water tower, too; thanks for that. So, let’s check the scoreboard for me, shall we? I got to kill a few people; I finally got to tear that annoying little preacher limb from limb, and I even got to destroy true love! I mean, how often does a demon get a chance to do that? Ah, what a day! You know, it makes me feel like singing!”

  “Ah, crap,” John muttered, coughing up more blood. The mayor twirled his cane in the air, caught it, and began to sing:

  Oh, let me tell ya what a truly glorious day it is to be me.

  I know that
you may be thinking this is adding insult to injury.

  But I must say that I think that this will be a fitting eulogy.

  Oh I’m so very glad that you stumbled into my little town.

  Since the night you rolled in, many things have gone down.

  And I’m here to tell ya true that none of it makes me frown.

  Oh, the moment you came to town, you shook it to its core.

  And now this kind of poor behavior, I normally would abhor.

  I began to think that dealing with you would be quite a chore.

  But I was super wrong and your forgiveness I do truly implore.

  I simply had no idea the endless fun that for me was in store.

  Your zany antics were way more fun than a two-dollar whore.

  First, let’s tell the sad story of a most annoying little priest.

  His very presence here irked me, why he called me a beast.

  But you came in and you flushed him out, now he is deceased.

  Oh the sweet ecstasy I felt as I ripped him limb from limb.

  And then I had this thought that was really truly rather grim.

  With himself so very deceased, who would sing a final hymn?

  He thought that good would win, but let’s just check the score.

  I’m still singin’ and dancin’ despite the great vengeance he swore.

  He thought that he could take me on and be a true competitor.

  But he met his oh so gruesome end with blood and guts galore.

  And so it turns out that in the end it was his God that was inferior.

  And I find that revelation far more satisfying than a two-dollar whore.

  Then there is the tragic tale, a tale filled with so much woe.

  Of a man we once knew as Mac, a man that you called Bro.