by Burk, Jeff
The halls were fairly empty as most of the convention goers were attending events. But there were still people milling about talking and trading trivia. There was a slight tension in the air from the blast but the convention staff was telling everyone that it was just a generator blowing out. The story seemed to sit well with the attendees. No one wanted to believe that anything actually was wrong. That would mean an end to the whole fun filled weekend that everyone had paid good money to attend.
Someone grabbed Natalie’s shoulder. She spun around and looked into the face of William Shatner.
“Oh, thank G-” The words stalled in her throat when she got a good look at him. His clothes were faded gray and his skin was a sickly chalk color.
“Vi…aspekti simlia…iu…en pargi,” he said in poorly spoken Esperanto. Translation: You…look like…someone…in charge.
“What the hell?” said Natalie. This was not Shatner. He looked way too young and thin. But he was the spitting image of an early Shatner.
“Kio…estas loko…kie mi?” Translation: What…is this place…where am I?
Natalie backed away, turned and hurried down the hall.
She looked over her shoulder and saw the Shatner look-alike babbling to some other attendee.
Goddamn, things are getting weird.
* * *
Bruce, Bruce, and Bruce peered out from behind the massive cardboard cut-out of Jaba the Hutt.
“What the hell is he doing?” asked Bruce.
The three Campbellians were watching what appeared to be William Shatner doing an impromptu concert for a small crowd of fans. Right now, he was in the middle of his immortal rendition of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”
“I think he’s singing,” said Bruce.
“You’d think he’d want everyone to forget about that aspect of his career,” said Bruce as she sat down. The large cardboard Hutt blocked any chance of Shatner seeing her.
“He’s just looking for attention,” said Bruce as he sat down next to her.
“OK, remember what we’re here for,” said Bruce bringing the team back to their mission. “We wait until he finishes this number and then when the crowd is clapping and he’s taking his bows, we make our move.”
“Right,” said Bruce and Bruce in unison.
The three conspirators waited for Shatner to finish.
“I can’t believe they got Bruce,” said Bruce.
“I don’t even want to think about what they’re doing to him,” said Bruce. Bruce nodded grimily in agreement.
They sat silent while Shatner sang/spoke the last verse. As he began the chorus for the final time the three Bruces got to their feet. They raised their right, handless arm and bowed their heads in silent prayer to the Almighty Bruce.
As they walked out from behind the intergalactic crime lord cut-out, Shatner finished his song and the gathered crowd applauded.
Bruce slipped his hand into his pants pocket and slid on the set of brass knuckles. He walked briskly up to Shatner, who was too busy taking bows to notice the oncoming threat. Bruce and Bruce moved to his side to provide back-up and, if necessary, crowd control.
Bruce did one last glance around to make sure there were none of those freaky convention guards and then he moved in for the attack.
One quick blow with the brass knuckles knocked Shatner out cold before he had any chance to react. The people in the crowd cried out as they saw their hero crumble to the ground. A brave fan made a move to help but the one-two attack of Bruce and Bruce, each of whom had their own set of brass knuckles, quickly reduced him to a bleeding quivering heap.
“Anyone else feeling like a hero?” yelled Bruce as she fiercely eyed the crowd. No one was.
Bruce smiled at Bruce. She looked so hot when her blood-lust got pumping.
He rushed over to help Bruce with Shatner’s unconscious body. The two began to drag the TV star down the hall while Bruce made sure no one followed them. While she may have been under half the size of most of the convention attendees, she was crazier and fiercer than any of them.
The Bruces rounded a corner to a hallway and dragged the body through a maintenance door that led to the boiler room. Bruce shortly followed them through the door.
“Did anyone follow?”
“Nah,” she said, “they were all too scared.”
She walked over to Shatner. “Wow, we actually got him.”
The three Bruces stood around the unconscious entertainment icon. They looked down in amazement. They actually managed to get the Great Satan himself.
“OK,” said Bruce, “start unpacking the boxes. Let’s not waste our opportunity here.
“I admire your determination but I do believe that you’ve made a mistake.”
The Campbellians jumped and spun around. Standing in the doorway was another William Shatner.
“Who the hell are you?” said Bruce.
“I’m Denny Crane,” said the Shatner, “the greatest lawyer in the world.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Shatner made it through two more rooms of the museum and then paused to catch his breath by a scale replica of his office from “Boston Legal.” People stood in a half-circle around him yelling and clapping.
“What…is wrong…with…you people,” Shatner screamed at them.
“aaaaaarrrrgggGGGGHHHHHH!!!!” The crowd parted aside and Hooker came charging. Shatner grabbed an umbrella from the set and stepped aside, swinging it at Hooker’s legs. He went face-first into the ground. The crowd was joyous.
Hooker stood up and faced Shatner. His forehead was cut wide open and thick-black ooze leaked from the wound.
“We can be at this all day,” said Hooker, “but, I am taking you down.”
Shatner turned and ran into the next room with Hooker hot on his tail. Directly in front of Shatner was the ambulance that he was carried off in from “The Twilight Zone.” He went to dodge around it but Hooker tackled his legs from behind. Shatner fell forward and his head THUNCKED off the vehicle.
The world faded in and out from color to black. Through the haze Shatner could see Hooker standing over him. Hooker pulled out his police baton and raised it over his head. Shatner’s senses shot back and he kicked out his leg, hitting Hooker squarely in the balls. He grabbed his crotch and keeled over.
The crowd laughed and applauded.
Shatner got to his feet. Next to the ambulance there was a small glass display containing the vehicle’s key. Shatner covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and punched through the case. He grabbed out the key and held it in his fist; it jutted out from between his index and middle fingers.
He turned and Hooker was already charging, baton held high. Shatner stepped forward and slashed with the key. Black goop splattered on the ambulance and Hooker held his face screaming.
Shatner ran past him to the ambulance, pulled open the driver’s side door, and got in. He used the key and turned it on. It roared to life, its engine growling and sounding more like a hotrod than an emergency vehicle from the nineteen fifties.
Shatner revved the engine and shifted the gears out of park. Hooker then threw himself across the hood of the car. Where his right eye was once, now there was a ruined socket of black sludge. He yelled and coughed up black goop onto the windshield. Shatner screamed and hit the gas.
The car shot forward. Hooker held on, coughing and splattering more thick black stuff onto the glass.
Shatner could see well enough to guide the ambulance through the museum’s doorways. The vehicle plowed through displays, destroying artifacts of Shatner’s public and personal life. Shatner put on his seatbelt, held on tight, and watched his life flash by.
* * *
Kirk and the man in the Starfleet uniform jogged down the hallway. The man’s name was Stephen, not that Kirk had asked, and he was very out of shape. He wheezed and his lungs burned as he tried to keep pace with Kirk. He very desperately wanted to get away but, after seeing what the phaser could do, he did not dare try to escape.
“OK,” Kirk said as he scowled disapprovingly.
Stephen fell against the wall and gasped for breath. Kirk paced about in the hall. They were now far enough away from the scene of the murder that no one was concerned about their presence. The convention attendees walked around Kirk and Stephen.
“Marvelous,” said Kirk in amazement as he surveyed the people. A few feet from them was a woman dressed as an Orion slave girl. Her skin was completely painted green and revealing green fabric draped her body. She was talking to a man dressed as a Vulcan.
“Marvelous,” Kirk said again, eyeing the woman. Stephen would swear he saw Kirk’s eyes sparkle.
Kirk confidently strolled over to her. He stepped in front of the man and leaned against the wall, bracing himself with his elbow.
“You’re…wasting…your time.” Kirk motioned with his head to the man. “He has…no heart…no feelings…not…like me.”
He moved in close to the woman.
“Hey buddy, back the fuck off,” said the man. He stood a good foot taller than Kirk.
“What the hell’s your problem,” said the woman as she began to back away from Kirk. Before she made it far, Kirk grabbed her. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other around her neck, and pulled her close.
“We shouldn’t….fight…there are more…enjoyable…activities for men and women,” said Kirk as he leaned his face in.
“Fuck off freak,” yelled the woman and she struggled to get out of his vice-like grip.
The man grabbed Kirk and pulled him off the woman with ease. He spun Kirk around and punched him squarely in the jaw. Kirk crumpled to the ground, dazed, as the man and the woman walked off holding hands.
Stephen rushed over. He could not help but feel bad. He had been there more than once.
He crouched down next to Kirk.
“Vulcans…normally…aren’t so emotional,” said Kirk as Stephen helped him to his feet.
“And…the woman,” Kirk massaged his jaw, “they…normally…like me more.”
“Come on,” said Stephen, “Let’s run down some halls. It’ll make you feel better.”
* * *
Natalie walked into the main lobby and froze when she saw the massive arched glass entrance and what was on the other side of it. She stood still and after a moment lit a cigarette, totally disregarding the convention’s no smoking in public places policy. She walked forward and placed her hand on the glass, staring out in disbelief and terror.
The sound of a roaring engine shook her out of her trance. She turned around and looked back at the lobby. It was a massive room, empty of but a few convention registration tables and a few display cases. She noticed that there was no one working the tables—there was no one else in the room.
The engine became louder. It was coming from ahead of her. On the opposite side of the room was a set of stairs and an escalator that led up to the second floor and the convention’s museum.
She then heard screaming and people suddenly came spilling into view, running and tumbling down the stairs and escalator. Then the vehicle came speeding into sight. When it hit the stairs, and people trying to get down them, it was ramped into the air.
Natalie watched in amazement as the vehicle flew through the room. It soared up and down in a graceful arch. Is that an ambulance and why is a man hanging off the hood were her last two thoughts as it smashed her into the front doors.
CHAPTER SIX
Bob walked up to the film schedule to see what was currently showing. As he read, he absentmindedly rubbed his chest, it was still sore from when the security guard had pushed him. According to the paper, theater two, which he was currently outside of, was in the middle of a Star Trek marathon. Bob grinned—this would make him feel better after all the shit that had already happened to him.
The theater had a snack stand window just next to the door. Bob walked up to it and studied the menu. A bag of popcorn was priced at eighteen dollars. Bob gasped. This was an atrocity! But crunchy popcorn coated with greasy movie theater pseudo-butter would surely hit the spot right now.
He stood at the window grumbling to himself over having to endure yet another indignity. His outrage turned to annoyance as no salesperson appeared. He waited a few more minutes and then decided to just go in the theater. He would rather sit and enjoy the adventures of the USS Enterprise than wait for some volunteer who flaked off.
When he entered the theater he was surprised to find it completely empty except for one lone person sitting in the center of the front row. It was strange to see such a large room so barren. Bob walked in and found himself a seat near the center.
The man in front was loudly laughing and clapping his hands. He was oddly amused for an episode of Star Trek. Bob tried to ignore him and focus on the show.
It seemed to be an episode that Bob did not immediately recognize, which was strange as he had seen every episode of the Original Series sixty-seven times. Spock, McCoy, Sulu, and Chekov were discussing the sudden disappearance of Captain Kirk. The characters seemed more scared and worried than Bob had ever remembered seeing them.
The man in front hooted and Bob took his eyes off the screen to glare at him, but the man was no longer there. Bob sat up to get a better look at the front row. The man really was gone.
Bob sat back, relieved to be rid of the nuisance. He jumped when he realized there was now someone sitting next to him. The man was facing him, with a broad, slightly unhinged smile.
The man leaned closer and Bob gasped when he saw the face of William Shatner.
“Hi, I’m Bill,” said the man offering his hand, “my my, you’re a good looking fellow.”
“Thanks,” said Bob shaking his hand, “and we’ve already met.”
“Oh, we have?” the Shatner’s left eye twitched, “my mistake.”
Then the man was gone. One moment he was sitting next to Bob and the next, the seat was empty. Bob looked around confused and a little unnerved. Perhaps his mother was right and he really was going crazy over William Shatner.
“If you’re looking for a good price on airplane tickets, I know a place.”
Bob jumped and spun around, the Shatner was now sitting on his other side.
“…no…thanks.” Bob was getting a little scared. He was sure this was not the real William Shatner. His suit was different from what he was wearing earlier and it was not one of his public appearance suits. He was wearing one of the suits that Shatner reserved for commercials.
The man was acting very differently from how Shatner had when Bob met him in the signing room. Bob was also fairly sure the real William Shatner did not have teleporting abilities no matter how bad-ass that would be.
“How about a four star hotel at a two star rate?” eagerly asked the Shatner.
“No, I don’t want anything.” Bob stood and went to leave. This guy was starting to get to him.
Suddenly the man was in the row behind Bob and placed both of his hands firmly on Bob’s shoulders and pushed him back into the seat.
“You’re just stressed out. Sit back, relax, enjoy the show, and then we can discuss business,” said the Shatner as he started to give Bob a shoulder massage.
Bob would have protested but the Shatner’s hands felt so good.
He watched the screen and a Redshirt walked onto the bridge.
“Lieutenant Leslie,” said Spock, “what are you doing away from your post?”
Lieutenant Leslie pulled out a phaser and pointed it at Spock. “I’m here because I’m tired of taking orders from you boy scouts. There are going to be some changes around here.”
The Shatner continued to knead and his grip was starting to get a bit uncomfortably hard. Watching the show was not helping Bob. He could feel a primal kind of panic creeping into his head.
There was something very wrong here.
To confirm Bob’s suspicions, Lieutenant Leslie phasered Spock on the screen. McCo
y ran to hold his dead friend. Leslie stood atop the Captain’s chair and let loose a series of laughs that would make a mad scientist proud. Sulu and Chekov bowed in worship of their new master. A chill went down Bob’s spine.
He jumped to his feet.
“What’s wrong?” asked the Shatner. He sounded genuinely concerned.
“We’ll talk business later,” shouted Bob as he ran for the exit.