by Zack Murphy
She had given up trying to talk to them and had taken a seat, kicked up her hells on the coffee table and watched the festivities of frivolity explode. “It’s true,” she said, sipping from a straw in an oversized plastic cup.
A collective “Dammit!” was muttered by the men folk as they came to the inevitable realization that they knew nothing of the female reproductive system, and now had to do something.
“This wasn’t at all fun,” DANZ & C>500TP arose from her position and patted Barnaby on the head, “You guys have fun saving the world, I’ve got to be going. You know, just in case you fail.” She gave Barnaby a kiss goodbye and started for the door, Michael Ryan in close trail.
She stopped mid-stride and crossed over to Ketty, pulling a small atomizer out of her cloak. “Here, you look like you need this more than I do.”
“What is it?” Ketty examine the glowing green liquid that bubbled and boiled from within its frosted glass prison.
“Something for those long lonely nights when you’re sitting in your dank little apartment all alone with only the sounds of tom cats trying to sex-up your innocent Persian kitty to keep you company.”
“You know, I’m actually considered to be quite pretty.” She said trying to figure out why a beautiful woman like herself was the constant butt of disparaging jabs.
DANZ & C>500TP patted her on the head and tsked, her face contorted in knowing sympathy, “I know dear”
Michael Ryan opened the door and was ready to get the hell out of Dodge when he was bumped out of his way by a foul-smelling, unclean-looking man carrying a large red duffle bag. Earl rasped as he struggled with the hulking bag into the room and plopped ii down in the middle of the floor.
He heaved a drawn-out exhausted sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow. He grabbed the half-smoked cigar from between his lips and handed it to Michael Ryan, who pensively took it between his finger and thumb. He held it loosely as if it were a diseased rodent brought into the house by the family cat, and considering the look of the man who gave it to him he may not have been too far off the mark.
“Holy crap these things are heavy!” Earl blustered. He cleared a loogie from his throat, looked for a place to spit it out, took heed of his company and swallowed it down. He took the cigar from Michael’s pinch and stuck it back between his teeth. “Some of my best work ever, if I do say so myself.”
“My, my, my, what a filthy little man.” St. Nick declared as he wiped a white glove over Earl’s greasy jacket, waving his finger in the air with the black soot that covered it.
“Yeah well, we can’t all pull off the whole eighties prom queen thing you got going on Santa.”
“Yes, it takes a real man to pull off grubby chic.” Santa beamed with an air of naughty indignation.
“Now that the pleasantries are taken care of, who wants presents? Hot off the presses.” He reached into his bag and brought out a large box meticulously wrapped in shiny paper with a large yellow bow. He handed it over to St. Nick with a smile. “This one’s for you.”
St. Nick unwrapped the present with furious glee, tearing the paper to shreds as he uncovered his gift. He opened the box and pulled out a large broadsword. The metal was polished and it shimmered as the light bounced off its sharp edges.
The rays that bounced from it cut through the air like a knife through butter. “Now I know how I make people feel,” St. Nick said as he wiped a small tear from his eye.
Earl doled out the rest of weapons to the group. Santa’s eight all got a matching sword and Actor Jonathan Frakes received a mace, which he swung around wildly, breaking a table lamp in the process.
Ketty was given a box of three razor-sharp knives that glistened off the steely brown of her eyes. Jeremiah gasped as he opened his twelve gauge silver-lined platinum-charged shotgun, holding it up in his sights as he waved it dangerously around the room. Barnaby was the last to receive his, and it was the most magnificent he had ever seen.
“You’ve outdone yourself this time Earl. Of course I’ve never actually seen anything you’ve done prior to this. But this is really cool.” Barnaby stroked the treated wood handle as he felt the weight and balance of the scythe in his hands.
It was gold plated and cut through the air with ease, cutting a fine slice straight through the sofa’s cushion. As the couch fell into two pieces at his feet a broad smile came over his face. “I think we’re ready.”
“Let’s get out there and kick some evil ass!” Ketty cried at the top of lungs. Somehow merely holding the deadly weapons had instilled in her a primal urge to do some major butt-kicking.
The room with filled with the hoots and hollers from the geared-up participants of the upcoming battle. Electricity was palpable as they pumped each other up for what lurked in the back of their minds- their inevitable deaths.
But this was not the time to dwell on the fact that they were mismatched in every conceivable way, it was the time to revel in their unity. Ketty even acknowledged in a momentary lapse of weakness that she’d seen Actor Jonathan Frakes and enjoyed that particular performance. It was the beginning of something new and exciting. They traded excited ooh’s and aah’s as each took turns showing off their new weaponry.
“As I said before,” DANZ & C>500TP said, interrupting the cheerful glee of room, “We’ve got to get going. Barnaby, see you later. The rest of you, I’ll probably be seeing you soon.” She and Michael left while the rest stared silently after them. Suddenly the imminence of who they were and what they were about to do came screeching in to halt their festivities.
DANZ & C>500TP glanced back and shot a quick smile to the group standing agape. She methodically shut the door behind her and walked happily down the hall, Michael trotting closely behind.
“You really think they’re going to fail?”
“Oh I’m quite certain they’ll be victorious.”
“Then why put all that doubt in their minds?”
“Because without doubt you will always come out on the losing end.” With those words the two slowly faded away into thin air as they walked down the corridor.
*****
“Well it’s a coastline, that’s for sure.” War looked with slumped shoulders at the beach that lined the eastern coast of New Zealand.
“We’re not even in the right hemisphere,” huffed Conquest.
“Well at least we know where we are.” Added The Death. “Now we can find L.A.”
“And away we go!” shouted Famine as she made a u-turn in midair and galloped north towards their hopefully final destination.
*****
“So, you know we need one more,” Barnaby said, focusing his not-so-subtle statement in Earl’s direction, who was busy showing Jeremiah how to properly cock a gun with St. Nick over his shoulder taking it all in.
“Can’t;” Earl said, “fighting isn’t my cup of tea.”
“But you make weapons for a living.”
“Yeah, I’m a human puzzle of conflicts.”
“Whatever dude.” Barnaby gave a half ass wave of his hand toward the telephone.
“All right Ketty, call your little friend.”
She started for the phone until something inside her arm made it freeze. It dangled over the receiver, her fingers twitching in the air like they were metal rods being pulled toward a magnet.
After a moment of deep reflection, weighing the odds pro and against having Loman part of the team, her conscious perception of the situation took over. She withdrew her hand from over the phone and walked slowly away. “I’m sure we’ll find someone along the way.”
*****
Juliet had nodded off, her head resting on Henry’s chest, when she was awoken by the sound of gentle coughing coming from overhead. Her eyes struggled to open and when they did focusing on the cougher was the last thing they wanted to do.
Through blurred vision her head cocked back and caught the face of Satan standing over her. She blinked her vision back into clarity and smacked the taste of sleep from her lips.
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br /> “How’s he doing?” he whispered, giving her time to fully wake up.
“Still the same,” her voice croaky and raspy, “the doctors still don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“And I highly doubt they ever will. That’s the soul of a man who’s been placed at the feet of iniquity and genuflected to its power.”
“Can’t you do anything for him? Seeing that you are, um, you know.”
“Pure evil?”
“Yeah?” Juliet knew that it was probably a compliment, but calling someone the epitome of all that is evil still seemed like a bit of jab.
“I’ll tell you what, when the time comes I’ll make sure he gets a good seat at the table. Or near the table. Probably not too near though.”
He gave a discerning grin and left the room. She stared at the gray man who lay before her, grasping to hang on until the inevitable end. She looked at the clock, whose hands ticked away the countdown to doom on the wall.
She clutched the small box, kissed Henry on the forehead and stood up. She left the room and after a moment of quiet meditation and headed up to the maternity ward to check on Dana Plough.
*****
“Is everybody ready to go?” Jeremiah said as he surveyed the room. Everyone was alert, each clasping their chosen weapons with the gleam of anticipation written on their faces. “So how are we doing this?”
“My Jag’s only a two-seater,” Actor Jonathan Frakes shrugged with a mixture of pride and consternation.
“I can probably squeeze maybe five into mine?” added Ketty.
“My truck’s pretty full as it is. Plus I’m not going with you,” grimaced Earl with remorseful pangs about his not so believable stance on nonviolence.
“Okay then, how in the hell are we going to do this?” Barnaby said with a hesitant pause. Scheduling to shuttle thirteen people from one place to another armed with a cache of weapons was a problem they hadn’t planned for.
Twenty-eight hands wrung in unison as judicious thought and clandestine looks bounced silently through the room. Furrowed brows tried to come up with a way in which two cars which could seat thirteen people with large sharp metallic objects.
“We could take the bus?” supposed Ketty.
“To the bus stop!” shouted St. Nick as his hand shot up in animated fervor. The sense of happiness came back to the faces of the troupe as they scuttled out the door. They were giddy with anticipation on their way to public transportation for the final battle of destiny.
*****
The bus jittered and whirred along its route, picking up and discharging its passengers along the way to the hospital. With every patron that came aboard there was a required moment of hesitation and stunned gawks at the fourteen people sitting in the back of the bus.
It wasn’t every day [Once a week tops] one hops onto a city bus and discovers a sword-wielding, sequined-jumpsuit donning, famous-actor-I-just-can’t-put-my-finger-on-but-as-soon-as-I-get- home-I’ll-kick-myself-for-figuring-it-out-too-late-ing, much-too-short-shorts-wearing, gang of weirdoes.
“Why are we even taking the bus? This is taking way too long,” said Loman, who had been perched in his usual spot waiting outside the hotel’s door for Ketty to exit.
Barnaby ran his fingers down his face, stretching the skin tight around his lips. “I brought you along because I felt sorry for you. Don’t make me kick you out because I feel sorry for me.”
Ketty buried her face in Jeremiah’s sleeve, embarrassed by the fact that she had for a split second wanted Loman to come along. The bus, while being an environmentally friendly mode of traveling the streets of downtown Los Angeles, was not the most time efficient mode of transportation.
It was the type of ride that leads people who are cramped up with other people to find that a bus ride brings out the petty squabbles in all. And they were filled to the brim in petty squabbles.
If she had to hear one more story about the time that Actor Jonathan Frakes had seen a well known starlet, whose name would suspiciously escape him, frolicking naked at a Fourth of July cookout/Tupperware party one more time she was going to kick him in a place where no man had gone before.
She found solace in the roar of the engine that vibrated under her seat, relaxing her into a state of trebled distraction from the world around her.
As the bus leveled off for its final descent at the front doors of The Richard M. Nixon Memorial Medical Center and Cocktail Lounge, Barnaby gathered the troops for one last pep talk. His eyes began to well up with tears as he scanned the faces on the bus and knew what he needed to do.
He stood before the group and like Henry V at the battle of Agincourt delivered an emotional and heart wrenching speech. “If you screw this up, all that you know will be destroyed.” He paused, scanning the looks of the dejected faces peering back at him. “I’m just saying.”
*****
“Hey look,” Said Conquest pointing, “Mexico,” as The Four Horsemen rode high over the bustling city of Puerto Escondido.
“We’re almost there!” War was exuberant in his knowledge they were definitely on the right track now.
“Man, I could really go for a taco right now,” said Famine wistfully.
*****
Barnaby left the others and headed up towards the maternity ward. He wondered to himself how on earth or anywhere else he was going to pull off stealing a baby from Satan. He knew that the universe depended on him and him alone to keep the balance in check. ‘Maybe,’ he thought, ‘all this was supposed to happen; maybe the world was supposed to end.
‘Maybe a newer and better species was meant to rise from the ashes and take its rightful place as masters of the third rock from the sun. Maybe this new species knew how treat an agent of death and wouldn’t bitch and complain about their demise.
‘Man, humans were whiny little bastards only concerned with their own needs. Good riddance to them and their kind. Wait, I can’t believe what I’m saying; if humans die out the after-life will be overflowing with them. Their sort would be sprawled out as the dominant race amongst the heavens. Stupid upright pizza monkeys! I’ve got to save humanity.”
The doors of the elevator closed and the muzak version of Mama Told Me Not to Come drifted from the speakers. He thought to himself, ‘Is this a sign of universal irony or just a bad taste in music?’
*****
Juliet stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at the increasingly uncomfortable Dana Plough. A few stabs at consoling words didn’t seem to dampen the awkwardness of the situation. There was a reason why she had sworn to herself that she would never be a mother and it was now staring her in the face.
The numbing torture that each contraction brought with it pierced the air in deathly screams. She reached into the bucket she was holding and fed Dana Plough another ice chip, although she doubted the medical logic of such a practice. She watched her boss crunch on the frozen suppressants she had supplied; her eyes drifted towards Satan in the corner.
His eyes had grown to the size of hub caps as he ogled the amulet that dangled from his grip. He stared at the metal like a pimple-faced teenage boy at a wet tee shirt contest. The reflection of the necklace burned it’s ambiance into his retina as it swayed in his trembling fingers.
This was the final piece of the ‘I’m-actually-going-to-be-a-father’ puzzle that was slowly being put together on the table of his conscious. He snapped out of his panic induced trance and shoved the amulet into his pocket. “How are we doing over there?” He tried to be as comforting as possible with his choice of inflection but the words came tripping off his tongue like most men; inconsiderate in the lack of knowledge of child birth.
Dana Plough said nothing back, though her eyes did most of the talking for her. Juliet tried in vain to communicate with body language and clumsy grimaces that he should probably be the reassuring yet silent husband all women want in times like these.
Satan nodded “Why don’t I go and find the doctor.”
“That’s a good idea,”
Juliet said, trying hard not to be sarcastic but failing miserably.
“Good then, I’ll go and see what’s taking so long.”
*****
Barnaby entered the maternity floor and walked out of the elevator to be greeted by thirteen hulking men looking bored and sullen sitting silently in the waiting area. He strolled over and nonchalantly quipped, “I think they’re waiting for you in the lobby.”
“Finally!” exclaimed Number One, slapping his knees as he rose from his slumped wait. The others followed, swords clutched close to their chests as they took the stairs down to their destination. They had all agreed earlier that they would take the stairs. They had also agreed they wanted to get a little pre-battle warm-up before the big encounter and not because the small box supported by a couple of flimsy looking cables, was really, really scary. Their footsteps grew fainter as the pounding of large feet in an empty stairwell faded into nothing.
Barnaby sat down in one of the vacant seats and propped his feet up on one of cases that were left behind. He checked his watch as he scanned the floor for any commotion that might be happening when a half-man half-goat baby would be born.
He opened a bottle of water he had over-paid for at the gift shop and fiddled through some magazines dying dusty of old age on a side table. Biding time while waiting for the world to collapse in on itself was tiring work; the anticipation of what would happen after the waiting was making his mouth dry.
*****
The Four Horsemen sped over the border town of Tijuana, Mexico licking their fingers clean of the molé sauce that covered the tacos they had enjoyed after stopping for a quick bite. They reached the United States and were mere miles from their destination. They felt good about the time they had made; only twenty eighteen hours behind schedule.
*****
Satan walked into the waiting area and spotted Barnaby relaxing, eyes closed in the center of the chairs. He pulled up a seat next to him and tapped him on the knee. Dazed and confused Barnaby opened one eye to spy who had so rudely awoken him from the slumber he hadn’t intended to take.
Through hazy vision he found himself face to face with the man whom he was planning on making a very upset Lord of the Netherworld. He sat upright and struggled to clear his mind of the webs that had been woven in his sleep. He rubbed his head and let out a short precise moan.