Joe Fury and the Hard Death

by Paul Anthony Long

  ‘Don’t worry about your car, Mr Fury,’ smarms the businessman. ‘OmniShyte will take care of everything.’

  We enter the foyer—plush and clean with polished floors—and head straight into a lift. It shoots up to the top floor and opens to reveal a businessman’s paradise.

  The office is more like the garden of earthly delights, even down to the half-naked chicks lolling about eating grapes. It’s got waterfalls, plush couches, divans, a small orchestra playing a selection of classics in the corner of the room, and soap in the toilets.

  ‘Now, Mr Fury, you’ve been through a trial recently,’ says the businessman.

  ‘If you’re looking to deal, we need a shot of the good stuff first, Mr …’

  The businessman laughs. ‘Aha. Of course. My name. Some call me Alucard. Some call me Nomed. Some call me Natas. But you can call me whatever you like, as long as it’s not for dinner.’

  I’m lining up to blow his jawbone away when Sue waves me down.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ mutters the businessman. ‘My little joke. My name’s actually Charles. Charles MadeUpName. Part of the famous MadeUpName dynasty.’

  ‘Is this some kind of joke?’ I take the bourbons off him, hand one to Sue and knock mine back. Good stuff. The best.

  ‘You’ve seen through my clever disguise.’ I glance at the paperwork on the nearest desk. It actually says ‘From the desk of Charles MadeUpName—OmniShyte.’

  ‘Never heard of OmniShyte,’ I tell him, knocking back another snifter to bring some life to my brain. ‘They deal in stocks and shares or just hot air?’

  ‘Your wit is amazing,’ says Charles. ‘No, no, we deal in the best commodity of all—futures. Well, specifically, your future.’

  ‘This better be worth the trip,’ I say. He offers me a seat and I take it.

  ‘I’m a successful man, Mr Fury. I can buy and sell anything, everyone, and everything that was ever owned by anyone, and I have an offer for you.’

  ‘What’s the catch?’

  ‘No catch. Just a watch.’

  ‘Which watch?’

  Charles nods to my pocket. I take out the stop watch the monk gave me in the land of the endless wars and hold it up.

  ‘Such a watch,’ mutters Charles, and I can see the misty look in his eyes.

  ‘Why do you want this antique?’ I ask. ‘It’s not worth anything.’

  ‘Let’s not kid ourselves, Mr Fury,’ says Charles. ‘I know the value of the watch and I know what it can do. I know it’s a vortex into the netherworld.’

  ‘Netherworld,’ I mutter. ‘That some kind of lingerie shop?’

  Charles springs to his feet, all anger and bluster. ‘Hell, Mr Fury. It’s the gateway into Hell!’

  ‘Nice work, stooge,’ I nod. ‘But what would you want with it?’

  ‘I merely require it for my collection.’ Charles gets himself back together and turns towards a vast cupboard beside the far window. ‘Follow me.’

  I do.

  He throws open the doors. Inside are all kinds of trinkets and antiques. Some look like junk, but others sparkle with the taste of money.

  ‘For instance, look at this.’ Charles picks up a D-cup from a bra. ‘This was the original Holy Grail.’ He grasps a small model airplane shaped like a lump of concrete. ‘The original design for the Spruce Goose. And trust me, Mr Fury, it could fly.’

  ‘Got anything that doesn’t suck?’ Sue walks up behind us. She’s not convinced. ‘Anything we can trade?’

  Charles smiles obsequiously at her and picks up a plastic bag. ‘Try this on.’

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to do?’

  Charles just smiles at her. Then money starts to pour out of the bag, spilling onto the floor. ‘Not bad, eh?’

  ‘Nice collection, but the watch isn’t up for sale.’ I knock back the rest of the whisky and head for the exit. ‘Call me when you’ve managed to extract your head from your rectum and we’ll snatch a Mickey Finn sometime.’

  ‘Wait, Mr Fury!’ I turn to look at him. ‘Perhaps I can persuade you with this?’ And he pulls out a rocket launcher and aims it straight for my head.

  NINETY TWO

  ‘Drop the water pistol, Mac,’ I tell him. ‘Or we’re talking some serious recompense.’

  ‘I’m serious, Mr Fury.’ Charles edges a finger over the trigger. ‘Hand over that watch.’

  I walk towards him. ‘What do you really want it for?’

  ‘I want it for me.’ He’s trying to sound crazed, but his eyes are totally sane. ‘I want to be able to travel to Hell and back. I have a late aunt who owes me money.’

  ‘Your gags aren’t getting any better, Charles.’ I stare him square in the eye. ‘Now take a hike.’

  I turn and start walking. I hear the rocket launcher drop and Charles is suddenly in front of me, on his knees, pleading.

  ‘Please, please, please, I really need it.’ He glances over his shoulder. There’s a big, black cloud gathering in the sky, full of lightning bolts. ‘I’ve spent my whole life building OmniShyte up. I can’t lose it just for this. I need that watch.’

  ‘Kieran put you up to this?’ I ask.

  ‘He’s tried everything else—all the combat and fury—and now there’s nothing but negotiation.’

  ‘He should have tried that at the start.’ I wave Charles out of the way and head for the elevator. ‘Come on, Sue, let’s hit the road.’

  The cloud suddenly sweeps forwards, blanketing the building and plunging the outside world into darkness. A lightning bolt streaks out and crashes into the windows, blowing them out.

  ‘This isn’t good,’ says Charles with a squeak, and he gets up and scrambles over to the rocket launcher. He picks it up and swings it towards the cloud. ‘Eat rocket shaped death you totalitarian ass muncher!’

  The rocket streaks off into the cloud and explodes. Suddenly the cloud reaches out with a huge, misty, grey hand and plucks Charles straight off the floor.

  ‘Tell my money I loved it,’ he shrieks at me as he’s whisked past and disappears into the cloud. We hear screams, cries and a few guttural howls, then it’s over.

  ‘I think it’s time we got out of here,’ says Sue, as a flying pirate ship smashes through the glass and comes straight for us.

  NINETY THREE

  ‘Avast, me hearties, shiver me timbers and splice the mainbrace,’ says the captain as he reaches down and plucks Sue off the ground. ‘Time for me supper, arrrr.’

  I’ve had enough of pirates. I pull out the popgun and take out the rudder with a few well placed shots, then start running as the flying ship heads towards the opposite end of the room. It starts to list, the bow edges down and it crashes through the window, straight for the desert below. I leap on to the deck and grab Sue.

  ‘If you’re stepping out of reality then now’s the time to do it,’ I yell. Behind us the cloud spills down, the giant hand reaching out for us. I brace myself and leap off the ship, pumping round after round into the cloud as we fall. Sue manages to snap off a few clips from her Uzi as the ground comes rushing up to greet us.

  NINETY FOUR

  We land in the desert, but it isn’t by the road. In the distance are the pyramids, rising into the sky, all lined up symmetrically. Egyptian architects stand around, directing hordes of people, but they don’t look like slaves. No one’s pulling slabs of stone and no one looks oppressed.

  ‘I think the history books lied to us,’ says Sue.

  ‘Either that or we were misinformed.’ I hear a thunderous roar behind me and glance around to see the Sphinx heading in our direction, its concrete limbs shedding dust as it hammers towards us.

  I pull out the cannon and the Sphinx grinds to a halt, kicking up sand over both of us.

  ‘No need for the popgun, honey,’ says the Sphinx, and it has a surprisingly mellow, feminine voice. ‘I’m not your enemy.’ She flicks her tail at the pyramids. ‘Want to see how they really moved them.’

  The ground shakes and shudders and one of the p
yramids tilts, sways, and suddenly lurches upwards on two huge stone feet. It takes a few steps sideways, sending everyone reeling around like they’re on the deck of a ship, then it sinks back down onto the ground.

  ‘No one ever believes that kind of thing could happen,’ the Sphinx tells me. ‘No one’s got the imagination to see the truth right in front of their eyes.’

  ‘So what’s the deal, sugar?’ I ask her, shoving the popgun back into my jacket. ‘What are we doing here?’

  ‘You’re after Kieran, aren’t you?’ she says, and I nod. ‘Thought so. I could feel the rumblings through the time lines.’

  ‘If you’re about to start banging on about quantum mechanics you can forget it,’ I tell her. ‘Right now I need out of this joint and over to Kieran’s.’

  ‘We’ve all got our passage to follow, honey,’ says the Sphinx. ‘Don’t knock it. And besides, all this crap about quantum mechanics and reality shifts is nothing but smoke and mirrors.’

  Sue doesn’t look pleased. ‘But Kieran told me—’

  ‘Kieran told you a lie, honey.’ The Sphinx spares her a sympathetic look. ‘He can hoodwink with whatever “facts” he thinks are appropriate. It’s all baloney at the end of the day. You, of all people, should know there are no facts—just perceptions.’

  Sue looks like her world has been shattered. She slumps to the ground and puts her head in her hands.

  ‘I should have known,’ she whispers.

  ‘Don’t let it deflate your oyster, babes,’ says the Sphinx. ‘We’ve all suffered from his bullshit at one point or another.’ She looks up at the sky. ‘Come with me—I’ll give you a whistle stop around the provinces.’

  ‘I got no time for sightseeing, doll,’ I tell her. ‘I’m on a case.’

  ‘I’m not talking about Egypt, you numpty,’ she says. ‘I’m talking about time.’ And suddenly we’re in London.

  NINETY FIVE

  In a back lane. It’s dark and gloomy and there’s crap all over the place. A small man with a curly moustache, a big hat and a firelighter walks up to a small tinderbox.

  ‘He can’t see us,’ the Sphinx tells us. ‘Or maybe he can. I’m not sure. Anyway, the books will have you believe the Great Fire of London was started by accident. And they were sort of right.’

  A shadowy leg sticks out and trips the man up. The firelighter falls on the tinderbox and the whole thing goes up.

  ‘Of course, nothing is ever real or not real.’ The Sphinx regards me as I spark up a Havana from the flames.

  ‘I think I’ve heard enough about whatever the hell reality is, toots,’ I tell her. ‘I get the feeling nothing’s tangible any more, and I don’t need any kind of history lesson. It’s all written by the winners, and the facts get distorted—and all reality is the product of whoever the hell is experiencing it in the first place anyway, so let’s cut the sideshows and get moving. I’ve got Kieran to bring in.’

  ‘But I’ve got so much to show you,’ says the Sphinx, and we’re off again.

  NINETY SIX

  And we’re in the White House. Nixon, Reagan and Kennedy are huddled around a table, with Nixon pointing at several land masses on a map. It’s not hard to see what their eventual aim is from the tanks and helicopters lined up on the map.

  ‘Yeah, we get the gist, sister.’ I puff smoke in her direction. ‘We’ve already met these jokers.’

  ‘They’re just part of the problem,’ says the Sphinx. ‘I can take you to the people who they think are controlling them.’

  ‘Will it help the case?’

  ‘You be the judge of that.’ And she whisks us up through the roof and we’re in a giant boardroom, seating twenty three, and every seat is filled by some bigwig in a business suit hammering the table.

  ‘I got the funk and I need to feel it!’ screams one of the figures.

  ‘Take me to your leader, earthling butt pirates!’ screams another.

  ‘Man, this jig is wasted on you fools,’ shouts a third.

  ‘Let me guess,’ I say. ‘The Illuminati.’

  ‘It’s whatever you want it to be,’ says the Sphinx. ‘That’s the beauty of it. Kieran picked the dumbest minds in the world to help govern the universe, because it is, after all, made up of mutable facts and twisted reality. And what you see before your eyes every day of your life is just what you select.’

  ‘Well, I see some pretty strange things,’ I tell her.

  ‘You’ve got a bit more insight and vision than most people.’ The Sphinx smiles down at me. ‘You see the gaps which people don’t see.’

  ‘You’re forgetting one thing.’ I take a puff on the cigar. ‘I’m a P.I. That’s all I ever was and that’s all I ever am. I don’t hold no mystical powers, mystical sources or strange abilities to alter reality or facts or whatever the hell you want to hoodwink people with.’

  ‘And that makes you one in a million,’ explains the Sphinx. ‘Everyone else in the world does to some extent. But they don’t know it.’

  ‘Okay, enough of the exposition. I’ve got a job to do.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  And we’re back in the desert with the burning shell of OmniShyte behind us sending plumes of black smoke curling into the air.

  ‘Where am I? Back at square one?’

  ‘Your journey has been full of surprises,’ says the Sphinx. ‘But there’s still a hill to climb.’ And with that she’s gone.

  ‘Well, that babe was a barrel of laughs,’ I say to Sue, but she just looks at me with saucer eyes. ‘What’s scratching your hump?’

  ‘She’s opened you up to the truth—’

  ‘Don’t you start.’ And I get in the shark and gun the engine. Sue crawls in beside me and we tear off down the strip.

  ‘Don’t you see what she was saying?’ Sue says, almost pleading.

  ‘I don’t need to see what she’s saying.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, all a man needs is a whisky, a good cigar and a car, and that’s what I got. Questioning the laws of reality is for schmucks.’

  ‘But you’re—Watch out!’

  NINETY SEVEN

  She warns me just in time. I slam on the brakes and squeal to a halt inches away from a group of armed guards holding big, mean, ugly weapons. One of them jogs around to my side.

  ‘State the purpose of your visit!’

  I scan the area. Part of it is locked off. Stands in the far distance. Something big and shiny pointing up into the sky. A pre-fab building a few miles away from it.

  ‘Professor Sparks,’ I tell the guard, whipping out a fake id and flashing it under his nose. He scans the id and nods.

  ‘We’ve been expecting you.’ He stands back and gestures. ‘If you’d like to step out of the car we’ll escort you to the launch area.’

  I nod and a jeep pulls up. Soon we’re outside the pre-fab building.

  The guard leads us into a room full of computers and data banks, with people in white shirts and black slacks rushing around like their lives depended on looking like computer programmers.

  The guard salutes and leaves us, and some guy with a crew cut and a stern but friendly look walks over and shakes our hands.

  ‘Professor Sparks,’ I tell him, and he looks askance and nods, then gestures to the giant viewing screen dominating the room.

  ‘I’m glad you got here in time, Prof,’ he says. ‘We’re just about to launch the shuttle.’ Crew Cut turns to the nerds. ‘Start the countdown.’

  I walk towards the viewing screen. Framed dead centre is a space shuttle, but there’s something different about this one. Something strange.

  Sue sidles up beside me. ‘This smells bad. Something is about to go wrong.’

  It does. Big style.

  The boosters kick in and the shuttle takes off, leaving a trail of fire. It barely gets a few hundred feet off the ground before the wings buckle in. Everyone panics. Lots of shouting, running, punching buttons; but nothing’s doing any good.

  The wings punch back
out and shape themselves into giant steel claws, jutting from the sides of the main body. The shuttle curves around in an arc as missile launchers and machine guns pop out from under the wings. The front end buckles and twists and transforms into a giant grinning, razor-toothed, red-eyed face.

  ‘This could be a good time to leave,’ I say. Sue nods, but it’s too late.

  The shuttle creature screams straight at the stands and starts blasting away with everything, sending missiles curving towards the people streaming away from the area. Bullets tear up the ground around the fleeing crowds. This is one ugly scene.

  A few guards start taking pot shots back, but they get torn up and thrown away by the machine gun fire.

  The shuttle swoops down and picks up a tank, then sends it hurtling back down to the ground where it explodes in a giant fireball.

  ‘I got a good idea who’s responsible for this.’ I turn to Sue. ‘Get back to the shark, toots, and be there when I need you.’ And I’m off.

  NINETY EIGHT

  I blast into the stairwell and tear up to the roof door. It’s locked, but a few swift kicks and I’m out.

  The shuttle creature is off in the distance, but it seems to know I’m there. It crawls around in a not-so-graceful arc and heads right for me.

  There’s no substitute for a well aimed shot, so I pull out my cannon and aim straight for the eagle eyes. The shuttle starts to shift and dodge, and it’s quick, but not quick enough.

  I blast off a shot, which whacks into the metal shell and ricochets away into nowhere. I didn’t figure on this. I pump more rounds towards the creature, hoping for a lucky hit, but today isn’t going to grow any orchids for me.

  The shuttle creature homes in and the wings hunch down as it streams towards me, blasting everything it has. The roof of the building turns into a nightmare of fire and spinning debris behind me. I know it’s got its range wrong and any moment now it’ll adjust and that’ll be that, and I’ll be roasting on the bad side along with Chicago and his boys.