The demon thing sprung up from its squatting position like an enraged Slinky,88 collapsing on top of her before she had a chance to even scream. It smothered her under the weight of its twenty-four ass cheeks. Not only was this demoralizing and humiliating, to say nothing of just plain gross, the weight of the beast was too much for Mallory to battle against.
Then, like remembering something she saw in a dream, Mallory knew how demons die.
There was a red nodule halfway up the colon, like an EASY button,89 that had to be destroyed. It was a kind of self-destruct. She just needed to pick an sphincter and get climbing. This big, evil monster would be easy; this was the biggest asshole she’d ever seen. Mallory was quite small, even petite. A match made in heaven.
The only thing was, she couldn’t move; she couldn’t even squirm out from under the butt
cheeks that pinned her down so she could work her way over to the nearest orifice. In fact, the weight of the beast was crushing the life out of her, minute by minute.
You can’t kill a demon by squashing it, she kept trying to convince herself, but this sure felt like it would work, like it was killing her, like she was dying.
Then she made out the muffled sound of bombs exploding above her.
Zachary Zemeritus had returned, mad as hell.
The half robot/half man that was Zachary Zemeritus circled above the fat thing, the molten thing, the thing from Hell with dozens of eyes. But none saw him there, because the entire beast was focused on crushing its small, young enemy to death.
Zachary didn’t know how to kill any demon, especially not a demon like this; this multi-headed, multi-everything beast. He had a pretty good idea of how most things could be killed. Typically it requires some sort of artillery, was something that Zach had in spades.
So he dropped it on the beast, everything he had.
He might not know much, if anything, about how to kill a demon monster, but he had managed—through both his little gray cells and the nano-implants that had increased many facets of his intelligence, including processing speed and retrieval speed—to learn how to use his body, his robotics. His weapons.
Even with Borgnine offline, Zachary knew he had a formidable arsenal at his beck and call. So he initiated OPERATION: GET THE MALLORY-THING OUT FROM UNDER THAT DEMON LUMP.90 First, he let loose a few mini-A bombs on its ass. (Or, technically, its multiple asses.)
He rained bullets across its body in multiple waves, first up and down, then back and forth, covering the thing like raisins on a muffin. Then came the knives. Turned out, much to his surprise, that his robotic system could manufacture weapons, as needed—the ultimate 3D printer. So Zachary spun little knives at the creature as fast as a machine gun throws bullets.
So far, all of this firepower had done nothing more than to distract the beast. But that was good enough. Zach merely wanted the demon-thing to get up off the girl-thing who could have been Mallory’s twin.
The beast below squirmed, the beast below bellowed, the beast below started to rise.
Zach wanted to raise the beast’s hackles, and he had succeeded. The monster was getting to its feet, like a drunken clown in a circus freak show, when all of the faces on all of its heads took on a kind of lemon-sucking expression, with eyes ballooned wide.
Zachary couldn’t figure out what was going on. Had his attack had a cumulative and delayed effect? The look on the beast’s faces wasn’t one of pain. It was more the expression one must have when realizing, out of nowhere, that attending to a very urgent case of the runs91 is now top priority.
The beast seemed to be in an astonishing and awkward state of extreme anal discomfort.
It suddenly bent over, almost in half, its ass sticking straight out, two of its eight legs shaking like a flea-bitten dog’s legs. Then, like a dog or a wolf or a whole pack of dogs and wolves, the demon beast howled. A screeching, deafening yowl from each and every one of its mouths.
UP SHIT’S CREEK
The demon thing who so resembled Mallory, who was Mallory in many ways, felt the weight of the beast shifting above her. She was, at first, crushed even harder. The pressure lifted, then the pressure started again. She almost blacked out from lack of oxygen. However, demons like her needed almost no oxygen.
Compared to humans who needed eight liters of air per minute,92 demons needed less than one. Demons could last hours underwater, like whales, and quite a while when pressed under demon flesh in a virtually oxygen-free environment.
Quite a while, but not forever.
She continued to listen to the muffled sounds of bombs exploding, of bullets ffut-ffut-fffutting all about in the flesh above her. The creature started to stir, to rise up just a bit. Then, it sat back down. More muted sounds came, chit-chit-chit, metal slicing into flesh. Mallory was unsure what the new noise meant, but she almost didn’t care. The beast was rising up again, slowly to be sure, it was getting up.
Once the creature’s many bottoms had risen high enough so she was clear, Mallory rolled away and got up on one knee. Her knuckles on the ground, she waited. The beast raised itself higher, higher, into a half-squat.
Perfect.
Mallory scanned the enormous butts hanging in the sky above her and, within a few seconds, zeroed in on the one she wanted: the mother lode. The biggest butt in the cluster. She was up and at it in a blur, not thinking, just doing (and who in this position would want to think about what they were doing?).
In the blink of an eye, she was up in the massive sphincter, which fit around her waist like a ballerina’s tutu. Next, she slithered through and up the rectum, sailing within a small channel of open space within the walls.
It was a good thing demons didn’t need much air. It was an excellent thing they could hold their breath for so long. The last thing Mallory wanted to do right now was breathe. Or smell. Or do anything, really.
In the descending colon now, she moved faster; the channel was wider here, a lot like a major sewer tunnel. She zipped along, holding her breath tightly, maneuvering left and right as she climbed.
Then she spotted it.
The red nodule. The magic button. The self-destruct trigger.
There was only one problem, Mallory realized. She had no idea how long the self-destruct period was. It could be a ten-minute countdown. Or, it could be instantaneous. She planned to pierce the red bump, regardless. However, she might not get out in time. She might be initiating her own self-destruction, too.
It makes no difference, she decided. This saves Zachary. It saves this whole world. I may be one of them now, one of these demon things. I don’t know. But if so, perhaps I deserve to perish with them.
At last, she reached the red protuberance and, reaching up to her head, broke a horn off. Mallory shrieked in agony, her own blood cascading down her face and dribbling onto the nodule. Her pointy horns were the only weapons sharp enough to pierce the membrane. She raised the horn in her hand, point-down, and gathered her strength.
The loss of blood had made her a little dizzy, so she waited for that feeling to pass. Then she smashed the horn down onto the nodule’s thin top membrane; once, twice, a third time. The third time, as they say, was the charm. The nodule exploded, then slowly inverted, drilling into the intestinal walls like a mole digging its way underground.
Still a little queasy from ripping out her own horn, Mallory turned and shot back down the colon toward freedom, hoping to escape from the monster’s digestive track before the thing exploded, or disintegrated, or faded away, or was sucked down into Hell. She had no idea how the demon would die—how she, too, might one day die—but she did not intend to stick around to find out.
Flying out of the monster’s rear with a flatulent blast (not hers; the enormous, unearthly fart emitted from the demon amalgamation she was escaping from), Mallory zoomed straight past RoboZach, heading for the first fresh or even dirty water source she could find: fountain, pool, or puddle. She needed a cleaning, and fast.
“Get away from here, Zach!” s
he yelled as she whizzed by him. “The monster is going to blow!”
Zachary’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he reached out to her.
“Just go!” she screamed. “We’ll meet up later.”
She flew only two blocks before she found what she needed. The firefighters had left a fire hydrant wide open. A long arc of water surged out of the hydrant and into the street. Mallory zipped down and hovered in the air in front of it, the forceful shower cleaning her legs, arms, torso, and face. She twisted around and let it drench her back, too. On the ground, a stream of dirty water ran down the street along the curb, and into the grate.
After a few minutes, she was clean, surprisingly so. Not a dark mark on her, other than her bruises, which were mending almost as fast as the hydrant had cleaned her.
She reached up and touched the protruding bump on her head where she had torn away one of her horns. The spot was healing, sealing over with flesh, and with new hair already growing in; baby hair.
Mallory was not used to these lizard-like powers she had for repairing her wounds. She removed herself from the range of the spray and shook the wet off of her like puppy dogs do. Then she flew back to search for Zachary.
Finding him turned out to be not all that difficult; he had stayed in the exact spot where she left him. Standing there as if nothing had happened, studying something in the immediate distance with great seriousness.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Mallory said, flying up to him. “You are in serious danger right now!”
“Mallory . . . ?”
They regarded at each other for a second, eyeing each other up and down.
“What the hell happened to you?” they said in unison.
They talked over each other until Zach said, “You go first.”
“You know the taxi you put me in that night? The driver was an idiot, that’s all. He didn’t realize you were getting in. Stupid, right?”
“What a dimwit.”
“But we were overtaken by a demon, who thought you were in the cab with me.”
“What a mess!”
“You’re telling me. Anyway, it was the girl demon. Apparently the way they procreate is by, well, insertion and morphing. Their systems are too screwed up from the way they always recombine with other demons into new, more grotesque demons.”
“So, basically, they’re sterile,” Zach said.
“Right. I got put up in her, well, um, incubator . . .?”
“You can spare me the rest of the details,” Zach said. “I get the picture.”
“So, what about you? What’s with all the chrome and wires?” Mallory asked.
“I was attacked by a demon, too. Beaten nearly to death. A whole contingent of Nobel Prize winners rebuilt me. I’m still me, just more metallic. Anyway, what was the danger you said I was in?”
“Christ, right, you’re still in danger. The giant demon monster. It’s going to blow up or be sucked back to Hell or—” she paused. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Don’t be cute. Where’s the demon, the one with all the heads and faces and arms and all that crap?”
“Look down.”
“What?”
“Just look straight down.”
Mallory did so.
“See that trash can, the one that’s overturned onto its side?” He pointed into an alley below street level.
“Yeah, so . . . ?”
“It’s in there.”
“What the hell you mean ‘it’s in there’?” Mallory shouted, her lips contorting to emphasize the mockery. “The thing was as big as a building. Quit pulling my chain.”
“I’m not. Come with me.”
Zachary Zemeritus grabbed Mallory’s hand and they flew together down to the overturned garbage can. Zachary crouched down.
“Here, take a look,” he said, waving her to move in closer.
Mallory squatted down beside Zachary and peered inside.
Back at the deep end of the rusty and dented can, in the gloom and the stink, was a tiny demon, maybe two inches tall, about the height of a kid’s Troll doll.93
“OMG,” she said.
“My thoughts exactly. Still the same ugly sonofabitch, though, with all the heads and legs and God-knows-what-else. Only miniaturized.”
“So,” Mallory said, deep in thought. “Not with a bang, after all, but very much a whimper.”
“Well put,” Zachary said, getting back to his feet.
“Now what?” she said, standing, too.
“I’m not sure, but I think we’re winning. Thanks to your bravery and, not to be underestimated, your strong stomach.”
“Shut the hell up,” she said, punching Zach in the shoulder. “I did what I had to do. If you recall, Mother Earth didn’t have much time left.”
“No, she did not. Well?” said Zach.
“Well, what?” she said.
“What are we going to do about Mr. Mini-Clusterfuck down here?” Zach said, pointing with his thumb and waving it at the garbage can.
LIKE SQUASHING A BUG
A squeaky voice echoed out from the garbage can:
“I AM VERMES MUS BASILEUS! I WILL DESTROY YOU! I WILL OBLITERATE EVERY LIVING THING ON THIS PLANET!”
Mallory chuckled. “Now, that’s just too damn cute,” she said.
Verm attempted to march out of the disgusting can with dignity and ferociousness, but came off looking as if, with all his tiny legs and feet, he were skipping.
Vermes Mus Basileus squeaked, defiantly raising multiple fists up at Zach and Mallory.
“BOW TO ME OR DIE!”
“Not gonna happen,” said Zach. “You’re through wreaking havoc on Planet Earth, you evil little King Rat of demons.”
“Yeah,” Mallory chimed in. “Time to meet your maker.”
She raised up one of her delicate-looking, unshod feet and prepared to smash down on the tiny demon cluster.
“Wait,” said Zach, pointing to the massive brass and leather boots on his feet. “I think I might be a bit more effective.”
“You’re right,” she said. “Have at it. I’ll place-kick the remains when you’re done.”
Zach raised his massive mechanical boot, but he, too, was stopped mid-stomp.
“Wait! We want in on this.”
Up on the overpass sidewalk above them sat Timmy Jimmy, in a wheelchair. With him was Helena, with a bandaged head and a cast on her arm. Standing between the two of them was a young girl whom neither Zachary nor Mallory recognized.
“Hey,” said Zach. “Timmy Jimmy! Helena! You’re alive . . .”
“Of course we are,” Helena said, guiding Timmy Jimmy down the ramp that led down to the alley. She was followed by the little girl, who—other than a few large bandages here and there, and some scrapes and bruises—looked pretty good.
“Now,” she said as they approached, “we’d like to kick that pint-sized demon’s ass and—Mallory? Is that you?”
Mallory glanced up under thick, white eyelashes and gave the trio a timid wave.
“Yeah, it’s me. But, um, things have changed . . .”
“I can see; you look like a demon, with a unicorn horn off to the side. Suits you,” Helena said. “Kinda sexy, to be honest.”
Helena laughed, and Mallory laughed, too. “So who is this?” she asked.
“This is one brave little girl. Patty Patty, Mallory. Mallory, meet Patty Patty.”
“Hi, kid. That’s a pretty name,” Mallory said and Patty Patty smiled.
“Hey,” Helena said to Mallory. “Remember that Irish prayer we used to recite all the time when we were younger? I think it’s appropriate today.”
“Of course!” Mallory said, “May you be in heaven, a half hour—”
The next part Helena and Mallory said in unison: “—before the Devil knows you’re dead.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Mallory said.
“Okay, plenty of time to celebrate when we’re done,” Zachary sa
id.
A forgotten, squeaky voice joined the conversation.
“DON’T THINK FOR A MINUTE THAT YOU PITIFUL HUMAN BEINGS, THE BOTTOM FEEDERS OF THE UNIVERSE, CAN POSSIBLY BE ANY THREAT TO THE GREAT AND MIGHTY VERM!”
The not-so-great-nor-at-all-mighty Verm squeaked and hopped about.
“Oh, screw this,” Zach said. He slammed his heavy boot into the demon thing, squashing it like a fatter-than-usual bug. He lifted his boot, but the thing was still there; reeling and bleeding. Zach crushed it again, this time grinding his boot back and forth for extra effectiveness.
The miniaturized demon-cluster bled its greenish-black blood profusely. A couple of its heads were crushed, and its back appeared broken, too.
“My turn,” Helena said.
She took a running start and landed on the squeaking freak show with both feet. A louder-than-expected BLAP! burst out of the beast, like a tomato being crushed. The thing continued to squeal as Helena skidded in the goo and fell on her ass. “Damn!” She got to her feet and slapped at her pants to clean herself off a bit.
“My turn,” said Timmy Jimmy.
He backed his wheelchair over to the throbbing, pulsating creature and rolled over it, back and forth, multiple times. Now the demon beast, once the self-proclaimed ruler of the universe, lay bubbling like road kill in the desert sun.
“Me, too. Me, too!” Patty Patty called out. She picked up a plastic pipe from under a dumpster and smacked the demon with it, again and again and again.
Timmy Jimmy pulled her away and hugged her, and Helena squatted down too, and gave the girl a kiss.
“It’s over now, Patty Patty,” Helena said. “It’s over.”
While the two congratulated/comforted Patty Patty, Mallory walked over to what was still left of the beastly bastard. The demon-thing, against all odds, still lived. She took the heel of her foot then, and ground it into the pulpy mess, like she was putting out a cigarette with a lot of anger.
DEMON DAYS: Love, sex, death, and dark humor. This book has it all. Plus robots. Page 18
