The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole! (1)

by Moon, Jonathan

  “Control, you better not have you your dick in some strange box!”

  “Oh, I do, Freddy, and it sucks so good,” Gary moans over the radio. “I don’t need you anymore, Fred, you or the fucking Humscalade!”

  He moans a few times more, but the then he screams so loud that both Agent Gallstone and Agent Lickspittle pull out their earpieces to avoid the terrible sound of Gary’s bone-cracking death.

  Tears fill Agent Gallstone’s eyes as he stares at the floor. Agent Lickspittle looks at him and then at Agent M, who is checking his guns even though he didn’t fire a single shot. He nods at his crew; he knows they are the best. And now with the best weapon the United States government can offer, they are set to save the world. Like secret agents are supposed to do.

  “All right, agents,” he says as he climbs into the seat and starts the vehicle. “Las Vegas, here we come!”

  Without missing a beat, Agent M growls, “And then dare you go!”

  Piss Off, No One’s Home!

  The women are stopped at the entrance to the Sons of Satan’s Redeeming Cock camp. It’s the middle of the day and the place is quiet. Way too quiet. ‘Everyone is already fucking dead’ quiet. The big metal gate hangs open, and the dirt road is scarred with multiple tracks leading out of the camp.

  The first team goes in hot. They are geared for war with Kevlar vests and black hoods. They wear tiny antennas taped to their throats so they can sub-vocalize when they have to. Bleeding-edge tech, only the best for Marcel’s team of badasses. And hot asses, as she likes to call them when they are sliding into their suits.

  They move with military precision, poking into tents and ramshackle building. Guns out. Loaded, safeties off. Laser targets flitter across the ground ahead of them, but all they paint is dust. Hand signals flash. They move and stop as one. They would make a team of Delta Force operatives stand up and take notice.

  The camp is set back a good hundred yards from the main road. There are multiple sentry stations along the way, but none has a guard. Maggie makes sure of that. She lies on top of the semi and scopes every position she can see. The trees are cut back the farther they get from the main drag. Marcel observes that the men are idiots for leaving so much space exposed.

  A pair of jets flies overhead, roaring at the sky like angry birds. One of them has something on its tail. Something big that’s moving around. The plane fishtails and takes a dive for the ground. The other speeds away, but something huge and fast pursues it.

  Screams from far away sweep over the camp. Like a concert. As if a thousand people are shrieking at the top of their lungs. Marcel pauses, fist in the air. The four slim shapes in black behind her stop and drop low. They look in every direction as they seek the source of the sound.

  “What was that?”

  “The end of the world. Now shut up, Liz,” Marcel says in a low voice that crackles off when she stops talking.

  They creep forward and around a bend without another word. Edwina has an AK-47 at her side. Her favorite of the assault rifles in their collection. Darla is behind her with a shotgun and a pair of old Lugers. She saw them in the arsenal and decided they looked “pretty choice for killing assholes.”

  They pause at the first tent and go low. They hover in this position for a full minute, legs straining under the weight of their gear. Marcel herself carries enough fragmentation grenades to take out a small country. They are strapped into belts that crisscross her body. The pins are covered in cloth and don’t make a sound when she walks. The primers on the right side are secured to the belt, so all she has to do is rip off a grenade and throw.

  A shape, a flash of red. The figure pounds across the ground, great hooting breaths puffing out as it runs. Then it is obscured by trees. Marcel has both hands on her chest, each gripping a frag grenade.

  Darla moves around Edwina. She has the shotgun at her shoulder, stock pressed close. The big Remington will splatter anything that comes close and put a hole the size of tomorrow into anything she shoots before it gets a chance to come near.

  The shape flashes again. Marcel lets go of one of the grenades and pushes her hand to her earpiece, but she doesn’t need it to hear the next sound.

  Screams from her squad up ahead, then the sound of automatic gunfire. They are already on the run. Edwina holds her gun up, but she can lower it with a snap and shoot in a half breath. She is a dead aim, too.

  The houses are pretty close on both sides, but the women rely on Sue and her sniper rifle to protect them from that angle. Still, they train their guns on the doors as they run. The road is wet as though from a recent rain. They slog through the stuff at a good clip. Edwina glances down and notices her shoes are bright red. Not the red of clay or dirt, but the color of blood.

  She doesn’t have time to shout at her friends. They break into an opening, a field that was probably green at one time. The squad is scattered along the edge of the street. Two are down, lying at weird angles. From the red hair poking out of her black cap, it looks like Rhia is one of the victims. Her head faces one way and both arms the other. One leg wraps around her back and loops behind her neck.

  “Mother fucker!” Marcel screams at the sight.

  A huge thing crashes out of the woods and heads straight for them. It is the size of a minivan, but it has a head and five legs. Each leg moves around in a full circle to propel it. There don’t seem to be any joints, so the appendages flap free. It’s like a giant puppy learning to walk.

  But a puppy never looked like this. The head is almost as big as the body and opens into a gaping mouth filled with black teeth. It slobbers as it howls. There is a chunk of something hanging from the corner of its mouth. Edwina realizes it is an arm.

  Darla doesn’t waste any time. She opens up with the shotgun even though the thing is still out of effective range. Marcel tosses a grenade, but it falls short and thumps against the ground, tossing chunks of earth all over the place. The smells of cordite, gunpowder, dirt and blood fill the air.

  Edwina’s mouth hangs open for a half second before her training kicks in and she shoots the monster square in the eye. This only serves to piss the thing off. It raises its giant head in the air and howls, a horrendous cacophony that sounds like the end of the world, which is just ironic enough to make Edwina grin. Then she empties the clip into the creature.

  “Suppressing fire! Get Echo squad in here, double time! I want a full fire team on the street in five seconds or we are all dead. And bring some goddamn RPGs!” Marcel screams into the microphone. She rips two grenades free and tosses them one after the other, big overhand throws that land the explosives right in the creature’s path. They tear the earth to shreds and give the thing pause as tiny flakes of metal dig furrows along the demon’s mottled skin.

  Darla fires as she dashes to the side, her two handguns popping as she empties clips at the monster’s head. Edwina follows, firing as she runs. They reach the side of one of the buildings and press their bodies against it.

  Some of the bullets must be penetrating the hideous creature, but they don’t seem to be doing any serious damage. A rippling sound passes over them, and Edwina knows that Maggie has opened up with her sniper rifle. There is a wet splat of flesh, and a hole appears right in the center of the thing’s head. It whips around and tries to rub its forehead on the ground as though to crush an irksome insect. Another blast, and green crap gushes from a neck wound.

  Under the bursts of gunfire and the howling of the demon comes the thrum of insects buzzing in the air as a flight of Cockbugs descends in a swarm. They are on the thing and lapping at the leaking fluid in a flash. Edwina feels like slapping herself. None of this can be real.

  A hiss and streak and then a stream of smoke as something whizzes past their vantage point. Edwina follows the smoke back to a squad of girls kneeling in the street. Two of them have rocket-propelled grenades and are making good use of them.

  The first explosive hits the monster in the side and pushes it back a few yards. The second one
knocks it off its feet. Edwina takes the opportunity to slap a fresh clip into the assault rifle, move into the street and empty it. Bullets lace across red flesh, leaving a lattice of holes.

  The thing howls and tries to right itself, but Darla walks forward, shotgun lowered as she pumps shell after shell into it. Marcel follows, her big handgun at the ready. As the immense red head thrashes and shifts, she puts massive slugs of lead into the target.

  Howls of pain as the thing crumples under withering fire. Another blast from the sniper rifle cracks against something solid. The creature pauses in mid-thrash as if realizing it is late for some crucial event. It looks around and renews its efforts to stand. More bullets smack into flesh as it collapses again.

  “I think we got it!” Marcel calls out.

  Edwina moves with a cautious step. She slaps yet another magazine in her smoking gun. This bastard will need to be well cleaned and oiled tonight. She will too after all the excitement.

  They are about fifteen feet away when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye and turns the gun in that direction. Her finger is right over the trigger, ready to loose yet another stream of bullets. But the thing she sees is no threat. It’s a little animal standing between two buildings.

  As the other women march on the dead demon, Edwina takes a detour. She doesn’t want a pet. She is thinking about dinner.

  A rope trails on the ground between the animal’s legs. As Edwina draws closer, she coos and whispers to the animal so as not to startle it and cause it to bolt. It’s a little guy. Four hairy legs, not very long. The body of the beast only comes up to her waist.

  It has hooves, and they shuffle in the dust as it turns around. She almost blows its head off when she gets a good look.

  “Don’t shoot!” the perfectly formed male face says.

  “What the fuck!” Every fiber in her body wants to execute this little abortion right now, but her shock-numbed brain does not command her fingers to squeeze the trigger.

  “Know, right?” Not only is the little fucker talking, but he has a heavy British accent. He shifts his hooves and stares at her. His eyes are blue, and she swears she can make out the faint outline of a mustache and goatee. A goat with a goatee. What next?

  He looks ... scared, for lack of a better word.

  “You can’t be.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What are you?” Her body trembles, but she can’t help but reach out and run her hand over the goat’s head.

  “Feels nice. Anyway, I was minding my own business, see, when these boys decided have a go at me. Know what I mean? They pulled me into a shack and tied me up. Well one ‘ad ‘is pants down and was about to shove it in. ‘Course I’m a goat then. Didn’t know what the wanker was up to. I was glad to ‘ave the little bit of green they left.”

  “What?”

  “Green. They enticed me with some goodies.” He looks over his shoulder at a pile of what might be grass. It’s too sodden with blood for Edwina to tell.

  “So this one, ‘e is right behind me and I look back over my shoulder.” He mimes the movement then snaps his head back around, terror etched on his face. “And like I said, ‘e ‘as ‘is rod out, and I don’t want to think about what ‘e is about to do with it. The other boys, they all got their ‘ands down their pants. Wankers. Well I wanted to fuck off right out of there, but they ‘ad me tied good and tight. Then the ground started shakin’ a good bit. I ‘ave four legs, so it’s not so hard to stay on them. Not them, and they had their jolly sticks out. Simple matter of balance and all, mind you.

  “The one behind me fell, so I kicked him in the face. Then the world went bright red. Like I was seeing everything covered in blood. The roof flew off and a big dragon thing swept in. Wings big as a jet, know what I‘m sayin’? ‘E picked up one of the tosspots in ‘is mouth. Left in a hurry, that one did.

  “Then this red rain starts pouring out of the sky. Bloody blood it is. Bloody ‘ell, I said. But I said that bit in goat. No one understood me. Shut it, says one. But he said that bit in human, so I didn’t understand.”

  Edwina contemplates killing the thing. A whole clip should do.

  “Red’s pourin’ from the sky. It’s on everything, roof bein’ missin’. ‘Cause of the dragon and all. When it touches me, well the one wanker was still near me and I was mad as a loon. I face-butted ‘im and, when I ran out I ‘ad is face. Bloody ‘ell. Then I ‘id ‘ere and you lovies showed. So, got any green?”

  Edwina chambers a round.

  An explosion rocks the ground. She pokes her head around the corner. The demon is on its feet again, swinging its massive head back and forth. Marcel rips round after round at it. She fires so fast it sounds like an automatic.

  Darla ducks as the head whips around to smack her. She is lifted into the air and tossed a couple of feet. She is a big girl, but she looks unprepared for the attack and hits the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  One scream of anguish from her girl, and Edwina is on the run.

  All she can see is Darla lying on the ground in a heap. She runs for her lover, oblivious to the danger of the beast. The demon tosses women aside like they are sticks. He picks up a blonde and crunches his massive teeth into her torso then shakes his head, worrying her body as she screams in pain. Blood flies everywhere before her body breaks apart. Torso and arms fall in a heap. Legs go down the monster’s throat.

  Marcel dashes in like some action movie star, quick and steady on her feet despite her six-inch stilettos. The thing squeals like a six year old dosed up on helium and snaps at her. She tosses a frag grenade at its feet and rolls away. The explosion throws up a geyser of earth and shit, putting a momentary stop to the snapping.

  Edwina dashes in shooting. She takes a flying leap sideways and manages to get quite a few into the bastard’s eyes. But it just shakes its giant floppy head, more goo flying out of elephant-sized ears.

  “DOWN!” someone yells from behind, and Edwina drops like a rock. A pair of RPGs shoot overhead, followed by two more. She rolls over and gets a glimpse of the girls. At least six of them are loading everything they can carry and firing at will.

  The monster rears back and whips its head forward on a neck that stretches like an accordion. Dagger-sized teeth snap over Marcel’s torso and lift her in the air. She screams, not in pain but in anger. This is the scream that Edwina remembers from a few nights ago when she tortured the Sons of Satan’s Redeeming Cock to death.

  Marcel doesn’t go down without a fight. As she is lifted into the air, she grabs a wire on each side of her leather jacket. Pins pop like metal popcorn as every grenade she has left is primed. Blood erupts from her body and flies out of her mouth but she gets out one last “FUCK YOU” before the frags go off.

  Edwina throws herself over Darla and holds on for dear life. The explosions come fast and furious, ripping at the air. The smell of cordite, already strong, becomes overpowering. Pieces of metal fly in every direction; smaller ones pierce Edwina’s skin across her ass and back and one thigh. She screams as the pain rips over her body like she is on fire.

  She may have blacked out for a little bit, maybe a few seconds, but the darkness subsides and she comes back to reality. She tries to roll over, but the pain from her wounds makes her scream again. Her voice is raw and she wonders how long she has been screaming.

  She reaches out with one hand, but no one is there to comfort her. The red thing stumbles toward them again, limping, one leg dragging behind its neck. Its head is at an odd angle, and its jaw hangs limp. It looks dazed. One eye hangs from the socket by a long piece of yellow goop.

  Darla doesn’t move. Edwina grabs her arm and tugs, but she is too tired to try to lift her fallen lover. Every nerve is frazzled, and her brain runs in slow motion.

  “Get up, Darla. Get up, Darla. Get up, Darla. GET THE FUCK UP!”

  The beast shuffles close, and half of its damaged jaw snaps shut. In a few seconds it is going to scoop up Edwina and Darla and that will be that. Not e
xactly an auspicious end. Not exactly noble. She thought they would have years and years of mayhem ahead of them. She did not imagine she would end up as kitty food for a demon.

  The thing snuffles close, long snout dripping yellow fluid that smells of shit, death and piss. She doesn’t want to die in that monster’s mouth. So long cruel world, at least I got to piss in the face of adversity and knee my ex-husband in the balls.

  As though her mind has reverted to childhood in the face of her impending end, Edwina hears the ridiculous sound of tinkling kiddie music. It peals over and over, a familiar melody that almost makes her long for the carefree days of her youth. It is the sound of an ice cream truck, and it is getting closer.

  A shape blots out the sun and then slams into the demon’s head. Edwina sees the face of a man … Wait, is it two men? Is she seeing things? She could swear she just caught a glimpse of a pair of Siamese twins hanging out the back of a flying ice cream truck.

  The truck circles around, and indeed there is a man leaning out of the open back door, one hand clutching a large round toy and the other holding on for dear life. Another hand reaches from under his arm and spins the toy’s face. Piss-yellow light slices out and cuts the demon in half like the mother fucker of all butter knives through the world’s most disgusting hunk of butter.

  Saved by a man, well isn’t that just fuck all.

  The demon’s head flops right next to Edwina with a thunderous thud. She gasps for breath and watches in awe as the truck settles to the ground with a ferocious clank. It doesn’t land so much as come to a screeching stop on the front two wheels. The back two strike the ground, and the guy falls backwards into the truck.

  A scream of pain or anger. A shape tumbles out the back and rolls into a neat somersault before coming to unsteady feet. The thing is brown and covered in hair. She gasps, thinking another demon is about to finish her off. But her double take reveals the thing to be a monkey. The beast has only one arm, which he is currently using to dig in his ass. It is definitely a he; the creature has a swinging block and tackle that piss her off. Just like the rest of her day. Pissed and getting worse.