“Fair enough. I have a lot of questions, anyway.”
* * *
“Feeling better?” Danny asked Naomi, who had just finished draining the life energy out of her third pizza delivery man. Her blonde hair had grown back luxuriously and her terrible burns had been replaced by vigorous new flesh. Danny, too, had been restored to full vim and vigor. Of course, the health of the pizza delivery men, six total, had taken a drastic turn for the worse – their dried corpses were stacked like beaver pelts just inside the front door.
“I guess so,” she replied. “But these clothes make me look fat.”
Naomi was referring to the camo fatigues that she and Danny had stripped off a couple of Joey Clawhammer’s thugs. Danny actually looked pretty sharp in the uniform he took off a former mercenary, but Naomi’s fatigues hung on her like a body bag. Still, it was better than the goofy red and white striped shirt and blue shorts with stars that the drivers from Jack’s All American Pizza Kitchen were forced to wear. Their deaths probably came as a relief, Naomi figured, and if they could sit up now, they would certainly thank her for putting them out of their misery.
“These duds are strictly temporary, kiddo,” said Danny. “How would you like to go into the city?”
“Really, Danny? Can we go to Prada? And Barneys? And Brunello Cucinelli?
“Anywhere you want to go, baby. It’s our anniversary.”
Naomi was thrilled. She looked around for her purse, but then remembered it had been incinerated.
“I’m going to need a new bag, too. Is that okay?”
“You bet. And we’ll grab lunch on the way.”
“Oh, Danny, this is so exciting. Thank you, thank you! I love you so much.”
Danny just grinned and picked up the gold machete from among the other weapons piled on the hallway table.
“What’s the machete for?” asked Naomi as they walked toward the front door.
“Oh, you know. Unforeseen events.”
* * *
Rex and Crayon sat together on the large couch, and Dementia sat across from them on a smaller love seat. Between them was an old wooden coffee table, its top cleverly repurposed from a hex sign that had previously adorned a Pennsylvania barn. Crayon was eating Chinese food straight out of the container, shoveling it down with chopsticks like she hadn’t eaten in four days. Dementia had a glass of tap water, apparently the only beverage available in the place. Rex chose to have nothing, not even water, preferring to minimize distractions.
“Sorry I broke your medieval alarm system,” Dementia began. “Has that ever worked on anyone?”
Rex looked glum.
“Sadly, no. Even the Jehovah’s Witnesses make fun of it.”
“You knew my name. Are you telepathic as well?”
“No, I’ve been keeping an eye on your secret colony on the internet for years. You’ve been hiding out in northwestern Canada for well over a century.”
“Since before the Pilgrims landed, actually.”
“Makes sense. The single photo I found of you is over a hundred years old. So who are you people? Vampires? Succubi? Space zombies?”
“Survivors,” said Dementia, setting her glass down on the coffee table. “We are called the Apex, and we came here from another dimension. Four centuries ago, a rogue planet collided with our world, destroying both planets. Only a few thousand of us managed to escape the cataclysm and teleport to Earth. We settled in the wilds of Canada, an area that was virtually unpopulated at the time, in an effort avoid contact with earth people. We wish only to live among you humans in peace, not to interfere with your species.”
“I’d call fourteen dead on a Metro bus some serious goddamn interference.”
Dementia gave him an embarrassed nod. “Two of our kind went off the reservation three weeks ago — Danny Decay and Naomi Rotts. That’s not their real names, of course. They’re just being funny.”
Crayon laughed, nearly choking on her chow mein.
“That’s pretty funny,” she said, wiping her mouth with her hand.
Rex was thoroughly baffled. “I don’t get it.”
Dementia peered at Rex, still trying to get a read on him. She quickly discovered this was an insurmountable task and continued:
“There was a rebellion in the Colony, led by Danny. In the end, we managed to crush the rebels and capture the ringleaders, but Danny and Naomi escaped and made their way to the United States.
“Their powers are extraordinary. In a matter of weeks, they could take over the entire country. The Elders sent me to stop them, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”
Crayon broke open a fortune cookie and laughed.
“Hey, here’s a good one: ‘You will soon experience a life-changing event.’”
“Give me that!” said Rex, snatching the fortune away from her.
“Hey!” she said, startled by his flash of anger.
Rex crumpled the slip of paper.
“Never open one of these again. These are written by Chinese wizards, and they always come true.”
Crayon looked dejected, and gloomily went back to eating her chow mein.
“Okay, okay. Yet another rule. I got it,” she said.
For several awkward seconds, nobody said another word. Then Dementia noticed the weird shrine in the corner.
“You have a painting of Cotton Mather, I see.”
Rex brightened.
“A distant ancestor of mine. You’re familiar with his great work?”
“I’m familiar with the man. I see the artist has chosen not to paint the scars I gave him.”
Rex was gobsmacked, not knowing whether to be thrilled that Dementia had actually met his famous ancestor, or angered that she had dared to lay hands on him. He was anxious to learn more about this alleged meeting, but was also a bit fearful of what she might say. He decided to put that conversation on a back burner, and return to more pressing matters.
“You said they have powers,” Rex said to Dementia. “What kind of powers?”
“Our race has the absolute power to control minds and read thoughts. We can also reanimate the dead – not actually bring them back to life, but control their movements. And we can never die. I myself am nearly 600 years old.”
Crayon’s mouth hung open, exposing a mouthful of food.
“Wow, you’re really old!”
Dementia gave the girl a withering look, and then looked at Rex.
“Cute little leprechaun, isn’t she?”
Rex turned and glared at Crayon.
“Are you a leprechaun? Don’t lie to me, girl.”
Crayon giggled, but then realized he wasn’t kidding.
“No, I’m not a leprechaun. I’m just short. Cripes.”
Picking up the empty food carton, she walked into the kitchen and tossed it into the trash can. Then, in a spot-on imitation of the leprechaun from the cereal commercial, she said:
“Always after me Lucky Charms…”
Rex scowled at her. Crayon grinned back defiantly.
“Do you two have… a thing?” asked Dementia.
“Noooo,” said Crayon, dismissing such an absurd idea. Then she looked at Rex. “Do we?”
His frown expressed several strata of disapproval.
“Noooo,” she repeated.
Rex turned the conversation back to Dementia.
“If these renegades can’t die, how can we stop them?”
Dementia pulled back the sleeve of her coat, revealing the metallic device attached to her arm.
“With this. It’s called a porticon. This is the same device we used to transport ourselves here from our home dimension. It’s the only one in existence, and it only works in one direction. If it’s used in this dimension, it will shred you to atoms and send you into the void, never to be retrieved. It’s not a weapon, really. It’s very hard to aim, except at close range. But it’s the only thing that can stop them.”
“Cool,” said Crayon, listening from the kitchen.
“How
can I trust you?” asked Rex. “You tried to kill me with that gadget just a few hours ago. Every space alien I’ve ever dealt with has come to Earth to destroy our landmarks, steal our oceans, or turn humanity into tasty dishes for their interstellar cookbooks.”
“You need my help as much as I need yours,” she responded. “The monsters you’ve devoted your life to destroying are newborn kittens compared to Danny and Naomi. We have to stop them and quickly, or the human race will face certain destruction.”
Crayon returned to the front room and plopped down on the couch next to Rex.
“We have to help her, Rex,” she said.
“We? You’re going back to Portland.”
“What the hell’s in Portland?” asked Crayon.
“Your parents, that’s what. I checked out your werewolf story last night. According to MonsterFax, there hasn’t been a single werewolf killing in Portland since the vampires ran their flea-bitten tails out of town twenty years ago.”
“Oh,” she said, dismally.
Dementia chimed in. “She’s telling the truth. Both her parents are dead.”
Crayon raised her head, grinning again.
“Not from werewolves, though,” Dementia continued. “They were junkies and both were killed, along with her little sister, when a drug deal went sour. She’s been on the streets since she was twelve.”
She looked at Crayon. “Sorry, kiddo.”
Crayon shrugged it off, pretending not to care.
“No big deal.”
“All right. So where do we find Danny and Naomi?” asked Rex.
“They’re not far from here. Danny can shield his thoughts from me, but Naomi hasn’t mastered the discipline. I can pinpoint their location more precisely when we get closer to them. They’re planning something awful, and very soon.”
“Good enough. Let’s hit the road,” he said.
Dementia looked at her hands, still stained with dried blood.
“I’d like to clean up first, if you don’t mind. Wash some of this blood off before I scare everyone.”
“I can fix your coat, if you like,” said Crayon. “I know how to clean suede, too.”
“She did a great job on my coat,” said Rex.
“Okay, sure.” Dementia took off her coat and gave it to the girl. Then she walked into the bathroom.
Crayon sat on the couch with the coat in her lap. She grabbed her purse and pulled out her sewing kit.
“She’s cool. I like her,” said Crayon.
“She’s a monster. I don’t,” said Rex.
Fifteen minutes later, Dementia emerged from the bathroom and Crayon helped her on with her repaired coat. It wasn’t a perfect job, but damn good for only fifteen minutes’ effort.
“Nice job, kiddo,” Dementia told her, grateful and genuinely impressed.
Crayon beamed and turned to Rex.
“Let me come along, Rex. Please? Please?”
“Way too dangerous, girl,” said Dementia.
“It’s all right. Let her come,” said Rex. “She’ll steal me blind if I leave her here.”
Dementia knew this was a very bad idea, but kept it to herself.
“Hooray!” said Crayon, and followed them out the door.
* * *
On the street outside the subway station, Danny and Naomi pulled up in the gold Stingray convertible he had borrowed from the late Joey Clawhammer’s collection. Danny parked the car at a crazy angle, one wheel up on the curb. He hopped out of the car and smashed the parking meter with his fist, and the two walked down the steps toward the subway platform.
“Danny, you know what I’d really like, once we take over the city?”
“Name it, doll.”
“The Central Park Zoo. I love animals.”
“It’s all yours, baby.”
“Really? You don’t think it would be too much work? You know, feeding them, and taking them for walks every day…”
“Nah. Let the lions run loose in the streets, for all I care.”
They walked briskly past the wall of ticket machines and hopped over the turnstile, heading for the trains.
“Hey, where the hell are we going?” asked Naomi.
“I thought we’d grab a bite to eat on the subway before we went shopping. Is that okay?”
She smiled at Danny. “Sounds yummy.”
Chapter 15
“Jump!”
Rex followed Dementia’s directions as the Studebaker crawled through midday traffic. She was in the front passenger seat while Crayon sat in the back.
“They’ve stopped. They’re about a mile ahead,” said Dementia.
“You’re better than a GPS,” said Crayon.
But Dementia looked troubled. “This is too easy. They’re not even trying to block their thoughts.”
“Tell me about these two,” said Rex. “What are we up against?”
“Danny is a goddamn animal. He started going off the rails about fifty years ago. Immortality does that to some of our people. He would kill the world to get his way. As for Naomi…”
She paused, looking pensive. After a moment, she continued:
“As for Naomi, well, she’s just a kid who got caught up in Danny’s orbit. I tried many times to get her away from him, but she always went back. After the rebellion collapsed, Danny and Naomi escaped, and I was sent to hunt them down.”
“So who are you, the sheriff?” Rex asked.
“The executioner,” said Dementia.
Crayon piped up. “Wow. I bet conversation gets a little awkward at family picnics.”
Dementia continued grimly.
“Where I come from, treason is dealt with swiftly and permanently. That’s how we’ve managed to keep order in the Colony for so long. And that’s why my people have not already taken over your planet.”
Rex raised an eyebrow at her.
“Your hands aren’t completely clean. Your people nearly wiped out Bigfoot.”
Dementia looked regretful.
“It’s true. We fed on them for a long time. They were big and gentle and slow-witted. The Elders felt they were an evolutionary dead-end and would not be missed. The energy from a single Bigfoot could feed the Colony for days. I feel horrible about it now. We even spared a male and a female Bigfoot to keep the species alive, but they hated each other and went their separate ways. Go figure.”
As they turned down a side street, they saw the gold Stingray parked halfway up the sidewalk.
“That’s them. Stop here,” said Dementia.
Rex pulled up two car lengths behind the Corvette and parked. Then he turned to Crayon in the back seat.
“Stay in the car,” he said.
“Hey, I’m not a kid,” she protested.
Rex reached up and flipped open a DVD player installed overhead. He pushed a button and the cartoon feature, “Scooby Doo on Zombie Island,” started to play.
“Oh! Scooby,” said Crayon, who became instantly transfixed.
“We’ll be back soon. Don’t leave the car, okay?” Rex told her.
“Hmm? Yeah, fine.” Crayon was a five year old again, and thoroughly captivated by the talking dog and his amateur detective companions.
Rex and Dementia got out of the car, and she gave him a funny look.
“Seriously? You have Scooby Doo cartoons in your car? That doesn’t strike you as kinda creepy?”
Rex seemed puzzled by the question.
“They’re really brave kids. They kick a lot of monster ass.”
Dementia just smiled and shook her head. Sometimes this man was too precious for words. The two hurried down the steps to the subway.
Inside the subway station, several levels below, Danny waited on the train platform along with a crowd of other commuters. He looked around, realizing he had lost Naomi someplace, and caught sight of her buying cigarettes at a kiosk at the far end of the platform. Then he looked above her and saw Dementia running down the steps in her direction. He waved his hands, calling out a warning.
“Naomi! Watch out!”
The next instant, Dementia walked up behind her and with one smooth motion snapped her neck. Naomi dropped to the floor. Dementia turned her eyes in Danny’s direction, and started walking briskly toward him. She pulled up her sleeve, revealing the porticon, its lights blinking red and powering up.
Danny turned and ran from her, pushing his way through the crowd of people, heading toward the staircase on the opposite side of the platform. But as he got closer, he saw a large man running down the steps with a silver crowbar in his hand, which was never a good sign under any circumstances. Somebody working with Dementia, he realized.
Rex was moving quickly and closing in. To Danny’s dismay, his psychic commands were not working on the man, so he looked instead at the people standing between them, commanding them to stop him at all costs. Immediately everyone near Rex reached out to grab him, pulling at his clothes and swarming him. In seconds, he was overpowered by a dozen men and women, clutching at him and pushing him to the floor.
Danny turned back to see Dementia, who was fast approaching from the other direction and trying to get a proper bead on him with the porticon. Forty feet and a dozen people were all that separated the two.
He turned to an elderly woman standing near the edge of the platform.
“Jump!” said Danny.
The woman dutifully turned toward the tracks, and jumped off the platform.
Dementia watched in horror. Danny started to walk in her direction.
“Jump!” he told a teenage boy. Without a moment’s hesitation, the boy also stepped off the platform, landing on the tracks and freezing in a standing position.
Dementia stopped, looking horrified at the people on the tracks. Danny kept walking toward her, reaching behind his neck for something in his coat as he walked.
On the opposite side of the platform, Rex finally pushed free of the crowd, punching out a bearded biker and an especially aggressive nanny, who was belting him with her diaper bag.
Rex saw the two people standing on the tracks, and immediately leaped off the platform to help. Danny kept walking toward Dementia, telling one commuter after another to leap onto the tracks.
“Jump!” he commanded them. And one after another, they did.
Asskickers of the Fantastic Page 10