Skullenia

by Tony Lewis

  “Only if you're blind,” said Stitches.

  “She ever so pretty,” continued Flug, gushing like a teenage boy. “Can I give her name, Boss?”

  “Oh, Lordy,” said Ollie.

  “That's alright,” said Kilo. “He can do that. Saves us calling her thingy, or whatsherface.”

  “I suppose so. Go on then, Flug. What are you going to call her?” asked Ollie.

  “Oboe.”

  “Why Oboe?”

  “Cos dat my favourite flower.”

  You can imagine the silence and the looks on their faces.

  “If I may,” said Kilo, a little anxiously, “we really need to get on before it starts to go off.”

  “How would you know?” said Stitches. “It's already more shades of green than a frog disco, where the dress code is wear something green.”

  Kilo got to work. He was fast, and with Crumble's help and the others chipping in, he fair rattled through the procedure. Flug wasn't much help, of course. He was mooning about what with being all loved up and all (apologies for the pathetic attempt at `street talk'. Thought it would be down with the kids. Revolting, isn't it!)

  Four and a half hours later the operation was complete, with the head now sitting in its rightful place atop the neck (actually, its rightful place was at the local tip where the seagulls could pick it to pieces, but you can't have everything your own way. It's my story, so there).

  “That's impressive work,” said Mandrake, admiring the suturing and stitching. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “I don't know really. I used to work in a factory.”

  “Talent such as this is a natural gift,” said Crumble. “You can either do it or you can't. Well, Mr Kilo, are you ready to engage the power?”

  “Oh, yes. Ethan if you would please.”

  The lycan took a small golden rod from his trouser pocket and walked over to the exposed balcony.

  “What's he doing?” asked Stitches.

  “Calling the bats,” said Ollie. “Jocular lent Kilo his bat whistle. It takes a lot of puff to get it going, and seeing as Ethan is the fittest here, it made sense to get him to do it.”

  “Just one thing,” said Crumble. “You might want to cover your ears.”

  “Why's that?” said Mandrake. “Is it one of those high pitched ones that feels like a mosquito…?”

  PHHAAARRRRPPPPP.

  The noise from the whistle howled like a thousand banshees in a spectacularly bad mood. Dust was shaken from the rafters, the floor shook violently, and the very stones of the building themselves rattled in their fixings. Kilo stumbled and struggled to stay on his feet. Ollie's face was screwed up in agony due to his sensitive hearing, and Stitches right eye popped out of its socket due to the sonic waves bouncing round the lab.

  “That wasn't a mosquito,” said Stitches as the relentless uproar started to decline. “That was a jumbo jet. Every bat in the Northern hemisphere's likely to turn up at this rate.”

  Just as they began to gather themselves, a fluttering sound could be heard outside. Faint at first it rose rapidly until it sounded like an audience clapping furiously. Ethan ran from the balcony and joined the others.

  “Here they come,” he said.

  “I hope they're not hungry,” said Mandrake, thinking that it would be just typical that a few short hours after discovering a new zest for life, he would end up as an entrée for a flock of ravenous blood suckers.

  All of a sudden the noise reached a cataclysmic crescendo as dozens of enormous vampire bats swarmed into the lab. Like a giant, black swirling curtain they flew round and round, in and out of the beams, around the equipment and circled the watching group. It was a dizzying display but then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The mad flapping ceased as all of the velvety creatures arced gracefully towards the large wheel and settled themselves into the harnesses. Silence once again descended as the bats rested in place, ready for their next command.

  “I can honestly say that I've never seen anything quite like that,” said Mandrake in amazement. “They're incredibly well trained aren't they?”

  “Very misunderstood little things actually,” said Crumble, checking a few connections that had come loose during the whistle inspired tumult. “And rather intelligent.”

  “Really?” said Ollie.

  “Yes indeed. Your average Desmodus Draculae is far more intellectually capable than a rabbit, and maybe even as much as a pig.”

  “That's something to put on your CV, mate,” Stitches said to Ollie as he popped his eye back into place. “Ollie Splint. Business owner, self-made being, half vampire, and almost as intelligent as a bacon sandwich.”

  “Alright,” said Kilo, cutting off a florid retort from Ollie, “all the bats are nicely in place, every connection has been checked and the body is stitched and leak free. Shall we…..Ollie”

  “Yup.”

  “Stop him doing that will you please. He's liable to snap something off.”

  Without anyone noticing, Flug had snuck up to the table where Oboe lay (how he had managed this was beyond anybody's guess. It was the equivalent of standing in a totally flat and barren desert on your own, only to turn round and discover that Nelson's Column had crept up on you).

  He had lifted up Oboe, who thankfully was now dressed, and was cradling her in one massive arm. With his other hand he was tenderly stroking her face and hair.

  As Ollie approached, he could hear Flug whispering.

  “I will love you and look after you and make sure dat you always safe. You more special dan any cat.”

  Ollie put a hand on Flug's shoulder. He wasn't going to be harsh with him because, all things considered, it was rather touching. He actually had a lump in his throat.

  “Flug, mate. We've got to leave her alone now because Kilo wants to try and wake her up.”

  “She been sleepy for long time hasn't she?” said the monster.

  “Yes, she has. So think how happy she's going to be when she wakes up and sees you smiling at her and saying hello.”

  “Okay,” said Flug. He gently laid her back down and pulled the sheet back up to her neck.

  “Now, we all need to stand well back,” said Crumble, indicating what he considered to be a safe distance, which turned out to about twenty feet (if the others had their way, and based on past experience, any procedure that had any hint whatsoever of Crumble's involvement would have normally required a safe distance of approximately seventeen and a half miles, but seeing as that was a little impractical, they backed off as far as they could and trusted to luck). “There'll be lots of electricity flying round shortly. Not the sort of thing we want to get caught in the middle of.”

  They all moved away from the table, apart from Ethan who was standing next to the wheel.

  “Please don't tell me he's going to let loose with that bloody foghorn again,” said Stitches, looking round for something to plug his ears with.

  “No, not this time,” said Kilo. “All it needs is a click of the fingers. When you're ready, Ethan.”

  The lycan gave a thumbs up.

  SNAP.

  Unlike when they entered the lab, the vampire bats started slowly and with measured purpose. With gentle flaps of their leathery wings beating in unison, the heavy wooden wheel began to turn. As it did so, an electric charge began to throb, infusing the atmosphere with a faint blue, green glow. As the bats picked up speed the static buzz became louder and louder and the air started to feel as if a thunder storm was readying to unleash itself. Ollie looked at Stitches and was amazed to see that his hair was standing straight up like wheat stalks swaying in a summer breeze.

  “I wouldn't laugh too much if I were you,” said the zombie, trying to flatten down his unruly mop. “You look like a frightened raccoon.”

  The clamour of the electric charge was now so loud that they had to shout to make themselves heard over it.

  “How's it going in there?” bellowed Ethan. He was studying the wheel as it spun round and r
ound at incredible speed. “The structure's holding together okay, but the bracket holding it to the wall is a bit insecure.” As if to confirm this, the large bolts buried in the concrete shifted a little, causing the wheel to tilt outwards ever so slightly.

  “Not too much longer,” shouted Kilo amidst a shower of sparks that shot from the underside of the table. Oboe's as yet, still lifeless body bucked and jumped as surge after surge of elemental power coursed through her dormant system.

  “Just a bit more,” Kilo implored, nodding at Crumble as the Professor adjusted a couple of switches on a flashing control panel. “I think we're nearly there. A couple more decent jolts should do it.”

  The bats, as if understanding what was required, urged themselves to even greater velocity. The wheel was a wooden blur, so much so that the aroma of burning tree began to intermingle with the acrid tang of ozone.

  “This bracket isn't going to last much longer,” roared Ethan. “It's going to have to be now or never.”

  Kilo gave Crumble an anxious hand signal. Nodding in understanding, the Professor took a step to his left and took hold of the largest lever on the control panel. He braced himself for a moment before yanking it down with all his might.

  Surpassing all of the other explosions, crashes, and electrical bangs that had come before, it seemed as if Crumble by this one simple action, had unleashed hell on earth. An ear splitting boom that made the bat whistle seem like a whispering child battered through the laboratory, knocking them all clean off their feet. The lights dimmed to a barely perceptible glow and then, an instant later, grew so bright that temporary loss of sight was a distinct possibility.

  Excited by the environmental fury going on around them, the vampire bats flew as if the slavering beasts of the underworld themselves were in manic pursuit. Faster and faster they pushed themselves until, with an almighty kaboom, the table upon which Oboe lay exploded in a shower of sparks, wires and shroud. Her inert body was catapulted through the air in a graceful swan dive before coming to rest about fifteen feet away.

  Professor Crumble picked himself up off the floor and took hold of the levers one by one throwing them into neutral. A silence, just as loud as the riot of noise that it replaced, descended instantly. Crumble could see that everyone was more or less alright. Flug had a gash on his neck that would have proved fatal to any normal person, and Stitches had lost an arm, but apart from that they seemed to have been incredibly fortuitous.

  “Kilo,” Crumble called out, suddenly realising that the scientist was unaccounted for. “Are you okay?”

  “Look,” said a dazed Ollie, pointing towards the wheel.

  “What's he doing?” said Mandrake, extracting himself from a large tangle of silver wiring. “Is he alive?”

  Ethan, who wasn't too far away from Kilo, shook his head free of dust and debris and nodded.

  “I think he's fine, but you need to come over here.”

  All of them had already pretty much fully recovered, and not having any injuries that a simple patch up job wouldn't fix, joined the lycan. Instantly it became clear that Kilo was in fact alright. In fact he was more than alright. He was overjoyed as the broad grin on his face indicated.

  “She's alive. SHE'S ALIVE!” he shouted in triumph.

  And indeed she was. There in the middle of the floor, surrounded by fragments of lab equipment, sat Oboe. Her eyes were open and she was looking inquisitively round the room whilst scratching her head.

  Flug was mesmerised, although that was no great achievement seeing as how he could be brought to a virtual standstill by a bladder on a stick, but he was awestruck nonetheless (Stitches had found the stick/bladder combo in the fountain. The stick on its own had scared Flug to the point of immobility, and they never did find out who the bladder belonged to, but a resident of the town lived the rest of his life never having to go for a number one again. He didn't question it. He put it down to luck).

  He wanted to approach her but he was wary. His heart skipped a beat (meaning it would be about another eight hours until the next one) so he just stood there smiling.

  Oboe suddenly realised that she was the subject of some attention. A tentative smile spread across her features.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “H…hello, Oboe,” stuttered Kilo, taking a hesitant step towards her. “I was just…”

  At that precise moment a bolt of lighting the size of which hadn't been seen since the formation of the earth four and a half billion years ago (or last Thursday afternoon if you're a Creationist) ploughed through the atmosphere and through the open balcony, where its white hot tip struck the bracket holding the giant wheel to the wall. The metal was blasted into tiny fragments with an ear pounding wallop, rendering all those watching useless as they stared in horror, as they saw the wooden structure topple and fall.

  Unlike most situations of an extreme nature, here there was no `time seemed to slow down' or `it was as if time stood still' nonsense. The extreme weight of the wheel was such that it went over in an instant. It just missed Oboe who had turned round to see where the noise had come from. She looked on helplessly as gravity took over. The top of the wheel smashed into the floor barely two feet behind her, rending it to matchsticks and, a microsecond later, both it and Oboe went down through the gaping hole.

  “NOOOOOOO!” screamed Kilo, running to the cavernous opening. As he gazed down into the darkness he heard a distant cry before silence once again covered the laboratory like a funeral shroud.

  “Oboe,” whispered Flug to himself, as a single tear fell from his bright green eye.

  * * *

  “Vot on earth vas zat?” said Jocular, a perplexed look on his face. He sent out a mental command to Egon, telling him to `get his arse up here pretty damn sharpish'. “I hope ze boiler hasn't exploded again. It took days to scrub ze skin off ze valls ze last time it happened. I didn't do it off course, Egon did. Four sack loads he got.”

  Cross had no idea how to respond to something so gross, which was just as well because he didn't want Jocular to embellish the story any further.

  Deadhouse occupied himself by taking a few more pictures. (Now you might think that this was a pointless venture because vampires don't appear on film in the same way that they don't have a reflection. This is an urban myth and has no basis in fact whatsoever. If it did, how would they have made all those horror movies?).

  The door burst open and Egon skidded into the room.

  “Yes, Master,” he puffed, slightly out of breath after his mad dash from the bowels of the castle, or to put it another way, he had received Jocular's message whilst relaxing on his toilet (you can make up your own joke about dashing and bowels).

  “I take it you heard zat rather loud bang?” asked Jocular.

  “I did, Almighty One. I just assumed the boiler was playing up again. I'll go and give it a kick.”

  “Excellent.”

  Five minutes later Egon, considerably more flustered and significantly more bereft of oxygen, returned.

  “Vell?” said Jocular.

  “I think you had better come and see for yourself, O Dark One.”

  “Can't you just fill me in as it vere?”

  “It really would be much quicker if you came and had a look, O Lord of the Night and all Things Residing Therein.”

  Jocular sighed and got up from his chair.

  “You better not be vasting my time, Egon. You know how I feel about zat don't you?”

  “I do, O Great and Powerful Overseer of all Things Nasty and Bitey, but this is the real deal.”

  Ten minutes later (it would have been five if Jocular hadn't fannied about trying to get Egon to explain things. Amusingly, the next sentence would be here by now if the author hadn't fannied about writing the last few lines about Jocular fannying about. Ah, well. Here it comes).

  “I see vot you mean, Egon,” said Jocular, gazing upwards. They hadn't gone to the top floor to the laboratory. They were on the ground floor, standing amidst the detritus that ha
s cascaded from the many floors above. The weight of the wheel had been such that not only had it smashed through the third story's floorboards, but it had barrelled through the two below as well, straight into the entrance hall.

  Putting aside his annoyance for a moment Jocular noticed two things. One, that everyone was very quiet and melancholy, and two, the front door was wide open. The only voices he could hear were coming from outside. Kilo and Flug were bellowing for Oboe until their lungs heaved.

  “I take it all did not qvite go to plan,” he said, putting a heavy and claustrophobia inducing arm around Ollie's shoulders.

  “If you'll forgive me the indelicacy, Sir that's qvite, excuse me, quite an understatement of gargantuan proportions.”

  Ollie explained to their host what had happened right up to the point that they had rushed down and discovered the front door wide open.

  “And zere vas no sign off her at all?” said Jocular, genuinely concerned, his anger at the damage to his home temporarily put on the back burner, which is where Ollie had assumed he would end up once Jocular saw the wreckage.

  “None,” said Ethan. “We got down here within moments but she was gone.”

  “If nothing else,” said Stitches, who had already asked his new found friend Egon to reattach his arm, “it shows that Kilo's work is up to scratch. Her joints must be in pretty good order to get out of here that quick.”

  MEEOOWW.

  “Uh oh,” said Mandrake.

  “Noggin?” said Ollie.

  “Noggin,” said Mandrake.

  “Noggin?” said Jocular.

  “Noggin,” said Stitches.

  “I see. Vot is a Noggin?” said Jocular.

  An explanation wasn't required as an exploding ball of bristling fur and claws like scythes burst forth from underneath a pile of wood and attached itself to Mandrake's leg.

  “YEEOWWW!” he hollered, dancing around like a man on a hot tin roof.

  Jocular looked on interestedly for a few moments, finding the spectacle rather amusing. Then he put two fingers into his mouth and gave a soft whistle.