“I was just going to have a breakfast burrito when you walked in. Grab one yourself – my friend here won’t mind.”
“Where’s Naomi?” asked Dementia.
“She’s powdering her nose,” he said, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the closed restroom door. “Listen, if you’re here to take us back to the Colony, that’s kind of a nonstarter. I promised Naomi we’d go see ‘The Book of Mormon’ on Broadway.”
“I’m not here to take you back, Danny. My orders are to put you down. Both of you.”
She pulled up her right sleeve, uncovering the metallic device attached to her forearm. Extending her arm, she pointed the device at Danny’s chest. He slowly raised his hands in surrender, being careful not to spook her.
“Well, that sucks. And we were just starting to make friends here.”
Unseen by either of them, Naomi had emerged from the restroom and was quietly making her way down the wine aisle. She kept herself low, listening carefully.
“Call to her, Danny. Get her out here,” said Dementia.
“I should have known they’d send you, Demmy. Killing is kind of your thing, isn’t it?”
“I’m only following orders from the Elders. You did this to yourself, big shot.”
“Demmy, c’mon. We’re family, for god’s sake. I took an arrow for you in the French and Indian War.”
Naomi moved down the aisle behind Dementia. She looked for a weapon, and reached for a wine cooler, slowly pulling it out of a four pack. Then she saw a larger wine bottle, and grabbed that instead.
“Sorry, Danny,” said Dementia. “You’ve hurt too many people. You’re just too goddamn dangerous.”
“Bullshit. I’m just doing what comes naturally to our species,” said Danny. “We’re Apex. We were created to feed on these silly creatures.”
“You know damn well we do not feed on humans. Not even to save ourselves. That is the First Law of the Colony.”
“Well, guess what, Demmy? We’re not part of the Colony anymore. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to settle for a diet of moose and squirrels when this planet is swarming with tasty humans to consume.”
He became agitated now, balling his fists.
“I am sick to death of eating moose and squirrel. I hate moose and squirrel!”
Without taking her eyes off him, Dementia shouted in the direction of the restroom. “Naomi, come out of there right now!”
“Think about it, Dementia,” said Danny, still trying to finesse his way out of this situation. “What are you going to do when the rest of the families want to leave the Colony? Are you going to kill us all? Are you going to kill off the most advanced species to ever walk the earth?”
Her response was chilly and unflinching.
“Yes. If I have to.”
Danny noticed Naomi then, sneaking up behind Dementia with the wine bottle. He turned and yelled at the closed restroom door.
“Naomi, I need your help out here! Get out of that goddamn restroom right now!”
The restroom door creaked opened slowly, and the old woman with weird blue hair showed herself, raising her hands nervously. Dementia was thrown for a second, and then spun around. Naomi smashed her in the face with the wine bottle.
Dementia was dazed, staggered. There was blood and glass in her eyes, blinding her, and she turned and fired the device at the sound of Danny’s breathing. He ducked, and the shot hit the Slurpee machine, which folded into itself and was sucked into the vortex.
Danny pulled out his Glock and shot Dementia twice in the chest, and then ran for the door with Naomi. Dementia turned and fired the device again, and the entire snack aisle next to the door was pulled into the void. This time Naomi was caught in the influence of the vortex, and was being dragged into it along with the Ding Dongs and Chocodiles.
Danny made a flying tackle for her, grabbing her in mid-air. The vortex dissolved as they tumbled to the floor, and they scrambled away through the huge hole the device created in the storefront.
Wiping the blood away from her eyes, Dementia looked around and saw the two outside, jumping back into their car. She ran outside and fired at them again, just missing them, hitting the gas pumps next to the car. The pumps exploded, rocking the Mustang, but the two still escaped, driving through a wall of fire.
Immediately, Dementia hopped onto the motorcycle and gave chase. The Mustang, now fully engulfed in flames, squealed out of the gas station and drove onto the freeway onramp in a frantic effort to escape. Danny and Naomi were also engulfed in flames, but they barely noticed it as they made a crazy rush into traffic.
Dementia was right behind them on the motorcycle, and was closing in on the Mustang, coming up on the driver’s side. As she took aim with the device, Danny weaved the car, trying to avoid the shot. He handed his Glock to Naomi, who turned and shot wildly at Dementia. Bullets hit the motorcycle’s windshield, and then the fender.
“Shoot the tires! Shoot the tires!” shouted Danny.
Naomi lowered her aim and got a bead on the front tire. Her hands were on fire, and the flames made it hard to aim the gun. Then the intense heat caused the gun to explode in her hands. She screamed and Danny turned to look at her.
Dementia used the distraction to edge up on the driver’s side. She aimed the device at Danny, who saw her approaching in his side view mirror. Pulling the wheel hard to the left, he collided with Dementia, sending her and the motorcycle cartwheeling over the freeway barrier and smashing into an oncoming semi-trailer. The semi, pulling a livestock trailer, slammed on its brakes, but not before its huge wheels had rolled over her.
Danny looked back at the horrendous scene in the rear view mirror and howled with laughter. He turned to Naomi, who laughed with him, as her hair and flesh burned away in the roaring flames. The Mustang, completely ablaze, picked up speed and drove away.
Crushed by the semi, bleeding, Dementia lay on the shoulder of the freeway as the driver got out of his truck and rushed over to help. Other traffic avoided the mess, swerving around the wreckage without stopping.
“Don’t move, miss. I’ll get you help. Oh god oh god…” said the panicked truck driver. He started tapping numbers into his cell phone.
Dementia painfully got to her feet. “No police.”
“But you’re hurt. You need an ambulance.”
She glared at the man. “No ambulance. Just get me out of here.”
The trucker looked at her blankly, and then put the phone in his pocket. Carefully, he helped her get into the cab of his truck. He buckled her into the passenger seat and then hopped behind the wheel. They drove off as cars began to stop and onlookers started to gather.
Back on the road, the trucker looked at Dementia with great concern.
“Seriously, miss. You’re really banged up. We really need to take you to a doctor.”
“Doctors… can’t help me,” she said, gasping for air. “Just drive.”
“Where are we going?”
“Turn here. We’re going into the city. I think I know someone… who can help.”
The truck driver obeyed, turning off at the next exit, and headed toward the city.
* * *
Danny drove the still smoking Mustang into the garage under their tenement hideaway. He turned off the ignition, but as soon as he and Naomi stepped out of the car, the engine reignited and the car caught fire again. They were both horribly burned, their faces black and charred, and their hair and clothes mostly burned away.
Naomi looked at Danny, whose flesh was still sizzling like a fajita skillet.
“Omigod, Danny. You look like shit.”
“Yeah? Take a look in the mirror, Beyoncé.”
She twisted the car’s side view mirror in her direction, and screamed.
“That bitch Dementia! I will kill her. I will absolutely kill her!”
“Don’t worry. She caught us by surprise this time. Next time it’ll be different.”
“But what are you going to do? She’s Apex, like us. And
she’s got the porticon. She can kill us, Danny.”
“All we have to do is get that damn gadget away from her and she can’t do a thing to us. Then we’ll be free of the Colony forever, and no one can stop us.”
“But Danny, we need to feed. We can’t go outside looking like this.”
“No problem. We’ll just call for another pizza delivery man.”
He reached into the tatters of his coat for his cell phone, and pulled out a handful of stringy black goo, like a Hershey bar that had melted in the sun.
“Hmm, my phone’s turned into a s’more. How’s yours?”
Naomi swatted at the flames in the front seat of the car to get to her purse, and produced only a burnt metal clasp.
“Goddammit! That was my favorite Louis Vuitton bag. I will kill that bitch. I will absolutely kill her!”
“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll get you a hundred new bags when this is over.”
“What about clothes? Mine are ashes.”
“There are bodies scattered all over the place upstairs. Take what you like.”
“But they’re all dudes, Danny. I don’t look good in guy clothes.”
“Baby, you look good in anything.”
“Ohhh, aren’t you sweet.”
Danny walked across the garage to one of the many sports cars Joey Clawhammer had parked down here, a 2014 gold Corvette Stingray convertible. He popped open the glove box, and inside he found a Luger, several condoms, an 8 ball of cocaine and a cell phone.
“Here’s a phone. You order a nice fat pizza delivery man for us, okay? I’m going to look upstairs for some clothes.”
Naomi watched him leave, then looked up local pizza shops on Yelp and made the call.
“Jack’s All American Pizza Kitchen. May I help you?”
“Oh hi, I’d like to order a pizza. And this is going to sound really weird, but could you send over a girl to deliver it? Kinda tall, somebody with a little fashion sense?”
The line went dead.
“Hello? Hello?”
* * *
As the semi-trailer continued toward the city, Dementia was alarmed to see the two bullet wounds in her chest would not stop gushing blood between her fingers. She was desperately short of breath, gulping air rapidly. One of Danny’s bullets certainly entered a lung, and probably collapsed it.
“How much… farther?” she asked the driver between gulps of air.
“Only a few miles. We’ll be there soon.”
Dementia’s heart sank. It may as well have been on the moon. The goddamn hunger was upon her and she needed nourishment fast. Soon, her voluntary motor skills would shut down, and she would become catatonic. She wouldn’t die – she would never die – but she would fall into a permanent coma.
The urge was becoming irresistible. Not since the Great Famine on her own planet had the desire to feed been so overwhelming. She looked at the driver, this good little man who was trying to help her, and she was horrified at the compulsion that possessed her – telling her what she must do if she had any hope of stopping Danny and Naomi.
All she had to do was touch the man’s arm and steal his life. Just touch his arm and she would become strong again…
“Mooo!” came a loud noise from the trailer. “Moooooo!”
Dementia looked startled. “What was that?”
The trucker chuckled, and jabbed a thumb toward the trailer behind them.
“Oh, that’s my load of cows. I’m hauling them to the slaughterhouse. I think the accident back there has made ‘em jumpy.”
Dementia turned her head to look back at the trailer, and then she smiled at the driver.
“Let’s stop… a minute,” she said, still gasping for breath. “Those poor cows… sound scared. I know… how to quiet them down.”
Chapter 14
“That grenade will only mess up
your apartment.”
Later that afternoon, Rex and Crayon pulled up in the Studebaker in front of his apartment building. Rex, back in his comfortable black garb and leather coat, got out of the car and opened the trunk. Crayon, wearing a new pair of jeans and a Justin Bieber T shirt, hopped out of the passenger side and ran over to help with the bags of clothing and groceries.
As Rex began to pull the bags out of the trunk, he noticed a young man standing near the doorway to his apartment. A rare smile crossed Rex’s face. It was Springer Sundae, the youngest member of the Asskickers.
“You can handle these alone, right?” Rex said to Crayon, handing her the shopping bags.
“Uh, what?” was her stunned response.
“Thanks.” He walked away and hopped up the steps to greet his old friend.
“Springer. Good to see you, pal. You want to come in?”
Springer had changed very little since the last time Rex saw him – a blonde, good-looking kid who looked more at home playing beach volleyball than digging around in graveyards to cut off the heads of vampires.
“Hiya, Rex. Thanks, but I can’t stay. Lars just wanted me to stop by and check on you.”
Rex looked irked. “Tell Lars I’m taking my medicine. I’m doing fine, okay?”
“Sure, sure. You know Lars. He’s like a mother hen.”
Springer looked at Crayon, who was grousing to herself as she wrestled the shopping bags out of the trunk.
“A little young for you, isn’t she?” asked Springer.
“It’s not what it looks like. She was almost eaten by cannibals and now she’s running from her pimp, who I thought was her dad, and —”
“You know what, never mind. I’m guessing the details won’t help much.”
“Oh, okay,” said Rex, sensing he might be babbling again.
“Nice job taking care of the Aldente Clan, by the way. Wish I could’ve been there.”
“Thanks, Springer. It took a while to find them. You’re sure you don’t want to come in?”
“Nah, can’t right now. But you might like to know, there’s another woman upstairs in your apartment. You’ve become quite the player, my friend. Just thought I’d warn you.”
“Another woman? How’d she get inside?”
Springer shrugged. “She seemed very determined.”
Rex looked at the door. The lock was broken and the door forced.
“Anyway, Rex. I gotta split. We’ll see you Saturday, okay?”
“Right,” said Rex, clearly distracted by the broken lock.
“Don’t forget. Don’t leave us stranded at the airport.”
“I’ll be there,” Rex assured him.
Springer smiled and walked away. He was already out of sight by the time Crayon got to the door with the bags. She saw Rex fiddling with the broken lock.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Trouble. Stay here.”
He opened the door cautiously, wary of a trap. Inside the stairway, he saw that his mechanical alarm system had been completely trashed. All his concealed weapons were broken, bent, and even ripped out of the walls. Whoever did this was supernaturally quick and incredibly strong.
Rex pulled the silver crowbar out of his coat and cautiously climbed the stairs. Crayon, despite orders, stayed right behind him, carrying the noisy shopping bags with her.
At the top of the stairs, the front door was also broken, and the lock barely hung by splinters. All of Rex’s precautions – the garlic, the crucifix, the hex signs, and his murder machines coming out of the frickin’ walls for god’s sake – did not slow the intruder for an instant. He pushed open the door, and there stood Dementia Sabbath, paging through one of his self-published books.
She appeared healthy again, vibrant and strong. And her clothes – even though torn and bloody — looked good on her. She looked at Rex, who was not completely surprised to see her.
“Rex Havoc. Good to see you again.”
“Dementia Sabbath. Please, make yourself at home,” said Rex, gripping the crowbar tighter.
She tapped the open book in her hands.
“I�
�ve been reading your books. You’re barking mad — that much is clear — but a lot of this makes sense. I think we can help each other.”
From behind Rex, Crayon poked her head into the apartment.
“Hi, I’m Crayon. He kidnapped me.”
Dementia frowned at Rex. “A little young for you, isn’t she?”
“It’s not what it looks like. She’s going home tomorrow, as soon as I can locate her parents.”
“Tomorrow-ish,” said the girl.
As Dementia and Rex continued to size each other up, Crayon pushed past him with the shopping bags and the groceries.
“Thanks for the help, asshole,” she told Rex. She plopped the shopping bags onto a chair, and carried the groceries into the kitchen, where she began to put things away.
“We’ve got Chinese food, if you want to hang out awhile,” said Crayon to their unexpected guest.
Dementia declined politely. “Thanks anyway, but I had a huge breakfast.”
Rex closed the front door and started toward the kitchen.
“Excuse me,” he said to Dementia. “I’m going to give her a hand.”
The layout of the apartment offered a good view of the kitchen from the front room, and Dementia watched Rex as he helped put away the groceries. He pulled fresh fruit and canned goods from the bag and handed them to Crayon, who was having trouble finding cupboard space for them among all the packages of rice cakes. When the grocery bag was empty, Rex folded it and opened a large kitchen drawer, which besides folded bags contained a Ruger .45 handgun, various amulets, a crucifix, a large vial of holy water, and a grenade. Crayon saw the contents of the drawer and gasped as Rex placed his hand on the grenade.
From the other room, Dementia spoke up.
“I can’t read your mind for some reason, but I can read hers like a Dr. Seuss book. That grenade will only mess up your apartment. We can go another round, if you like, but I’d prefer to talk.”
Rex considered Dementia’s words for a moment, and then took his hand off the grenade. He tucked the folded bag away and closed the drawer.
Asskickers of the Fantastic Page 9