Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

“Someday, I’ll tell you all the story of how I operated an anti-aircraft gun during the early days of the Battle of Britain. Those are some good memories.”

  “Salt water,” Moselle sniffed and pointed at the spray. “You emptied the tank and filled it with salt water?”

  “Not quite,” he answered as he aimed the hose at the front gate which had been closed by several blobs of living oil. “No, I stopped at two food stores on the way; bought like fifty containers of premium sea salt.”

  “I poured them all in while this maniac drove,” Joe added.

  Cade turned the wheel and pulled the lever back. Again he sprayed water down on the living oil and the blobs quickly spread away.

  “These oil things are hard to kill,” he said.

  “Yo man! Cade! Yo!” Joe called out over the sound of the water from the hose.

  “What, Joe?”

  “Pollution’s here.”

  Cade turned off the hose and jumped down off the fire engine on the side where Joe was. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, pally.”

  “Cade.” Moselle reached over and tugged on his arm until he gave her his full attention. “If you recall, when you first arrived, I said we were under attack.”

  “I reckon I heard you, Moselle.” He nodded. “I’ve pushed them back. I think we’ll be okay for a moment.”

  “No, Cade, you are not hearing me.”

  Jackson picked Peter off the ground and began to walk him to the limo.

  “Moselle, I have a plan and I’ve brought help,” he tried to reassure her when he saw how worried she still was.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No, he don’t,” Joe added.

  Cade turned to Joe. Still shaped like a dog, he had moved near a pile of slimes that Cade had brought down with the salt water.

  “Joe, careful.”

  Joe lifted his leg at the pile. “I never liked these guys.”

  “Just be careful over there.”

  No sooner did Cade speak than several spindly tentacles reach out of the pile and attach themselves to Joe’s back legs. Cade watched in horror as the tiny dog was pulled, fighting the entire time, into a puddle of muck.

  “Joe!”

  “Don’t let them take me!” Joe howled.

  Cade went to rush to Joe’s aid, but hiding on the opposite side of the fire engine was one of the wounded living oils. It snapped out one of its many wiggling arms and knocked him back.

  Moselle braced his backward stagger. “Your dog…”

  “He wasn’t my dog. He was a slime. A spy.”

  “You brought a slime here?”

  Cade looked at Moselle; he knew his face chilled her with its seriousness. “Moselle, they’ve been here all along.”

  “Peter came to a similar conclusion. He said this thing, Pollution, does not move—”

  “It spreads.” He finished her statement as he took in his surroundings again.

  “You knew?”

  “Yeah, Moselle.” Cade gazed at the puddle. Joe was completely gone now—merged. “I figured it out when I reached your house.”

  “What of my home?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you this, but…your home…it’s filled with these things and they ain’t afraid to tell you exactly what’s happening.”

  “Then, I must return home,” she urged. “I must return home now.”

  Cade smiled. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Plans of His Own

  Jackson let go of Peter when he reached the passenger side of the limousine. His original thought had been to push him into the back and drive him straight to the hospital. But then he realized he had been given the perfect opportunity.

  Jackson peered through a crack in the window. Sabrina lay still, across the backseat; he could see her breathe—slow and steady. She’ll be fine. He stared at her shoulder, where her wing tattoo crested. It was strikingly beautiful, untouched from the damage the explosion caused the rest of her body.

  I could drive away with her, he thought. No one would know where we went. All this mess. All this crazy fucking mess. Gone. Behind us. I could keep her safe.

  The ground rumbled harshly.

  “Whoa,” Jackson said, trying to steady himself and instead stumbling into the car.

  Jackson had experienced his share of earthquakes—bad ones, like the one at Moselle’s house days ago. This was different. The ground had not stopped since it started shaking ten or more minutes ago; in fact, it had gotten worse.

  Peter began to stir and Jackson’s attention returned to him. Peter needs help. Or maybe Cade was right. Maybe I should just let him die. Why do I care? Jackson’s heart fluttered as he thought. With him gone, Sabrina and I could finally be together—nothing in our way.

  “Weston?” Jackson called out, as if the air spirit stood right in front of him.

  “Yes?” he replied.

  “Show yourself.”

  Weston materialized slightly. He was right beside Peter.

  “What would you do?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s not like I’m in the driver’s seat anymore,” Weston grumbled. “How the hell are you controlling me, human?”

  “Controlling you? I’m not controlling you,” Jackson tried to say with a measure of confidence, regardless of being unsure himself.

  “The hell you aren’t!” Weston shouted.

  “Just listen, okay?”

  Weston didn’t say another word until Jackson asked him a question.

  “If I drive away, will you protect me—us? Keep these things off us until we’re safe.”

  “I’ll try. Yes.”

  Another rumble tossed Jackson into the limo. “Good. It’s time to go.”

  Peter coughed and choked, his face turning red with strain.

  Jackson stared at Peter again. “He needs to breathe. Could you give him fresh air?”

  “Is that what you want?” Weston asked. “You want me to help him breathe better?”

  “Jackson!” Cade shouted as he dashed over. “Where’s Sabrina?”

  “In her storage unit.”

  “I just checked there.” A rumble followed by the cracking of damaged wood nearly drowned out Cade’s words.

  “She’s not there?” Jackson pretended to be surprised.

  Cade looked side to side, his panic obvious. “No.”

  “She’s in—in—in the car,” a voice called out from the shadows.

  “Who’s there?” Cade raised a hidden pistol. “Sing out.”

  “Lonzo.”

  “Lonzo?”

  Jackson watched Weston lift up off the ground and then vanish. As he did, Jackson whispered, “Don’t say anything stupid.”

  When Weston materialized again, he was between Cade and the other side of the limo. Cade dropped to a defensive stance. What’s he going to do, Jackson wondered, pounce on Weston?

  “Stay back,” Cade demanded.

  “Cade Robert Lawton, my name is Weston and—”

  “Weston.” Cade relaxed himself some. “What’s going on here?”

  “Lonzo is not our enemy. He lives in the storage unit across from Sabrina’s. He’s a harmless ghoul.”

  Cade hissed and sneered.

  “I—I am—was—am—was a vampire,” Lonzo said as he stepped out of the darkness.

  Jackson gasped at the man who looked like he’d suffered from the plague and leprosy combined. “What the hell?”

  “Sabrina’s in the car.” Lonzo pointed at the limo.

  “What did he just say?” Cade asked.

  “I—I—I smell her. She’s hurt, but alive. She’s in the car.”

  Cade sniffed the air a moment and then smirked. “Ah. I know that scent… My sweet, sweet sunshine.”

  Cade stepped closer, but Weston blocked him.

  Perfect. Stay there. Don’t let Cade get any closer, Jackson thought.

  “Hey, step aside.” Cade waved to the side with his pistol hand.

  “I can’t,” Weston answered.

&
nbsp; “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  “Because…” Cade paused. “Oh, I see. Because you put her in the car didn’t you? Why did you do that?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Jackson watched Cade lose his patience. Cade shifted his weight from his back to his forward foot and glanced from side to side. He’s gonna make a run for it.

  “Don’t you lie to me, Mr. Oxy-moron.”

  Lonzo spoke up. “He’s telling you the truth.”

  Jackson turned to Lonzo, but before the rotting man could say another word, he was attacked. A puddle of living oil so large it could have swallowed up the entire limousine had silently oozed behind him. The glugging sound it made as it first grabbed Lonzo by a dozen or more small but lengthily tentacles made Jackson’s stomach churn.

  That thing looks like what pulled the scrap metal from my hands… Jackson got a better look at it now. While it seemingly had a face, many features were missing—including its nose. It had a mouth: a long slit that ran from one side to the other of the bump that was its head. There were no lips and no teeth. Only a dark opening that led to nowhere, as best as Jackson could tell. More terrifying than that were its eyes—two shiny, bluish ovals the size of footballs. Jackson couldn’t shake the feeling that this thing was no different than a shark—a freaking soulless eating machine.

  The living oil restrained Lonzo long enough that another puddle could surge up to above the man’s height and then drop down on him like a hammer.

  Jackson shouted and Weston rushed forward.

  Once struck down, the living oil that had restrained Lonzo pulled him in slowly, toward its inhuman mouth.

  “Jackson, do you have the keys?”

  He heard Cade but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blob. It’s eating him…

  “Jackson!” Cade called out from the opposite side of the limo.

  “What? Yeah, I have the keys.”

  “Then drive, man. Get out of here.”

  Cade aimed his gun at the living oil that had Lonzo and fired twice. The bullets passed through the thing and struck a wall somewhere behind it. This didn’t seem to affect Cade’s desire to shoot it as he aimed and fired again.

  “You’re not hurting it.”

  “I beg to differ,” Cade replied. “Now go!”

  “What about—”

  “I’ll get Moselle and catch up to you.” Cade pointed toward the entrance. “Don’t you worry none.”

  Jackson ran to the driver’s side and opened the door. The cracks in the pavement had grown wider, and he knew if he didn’t go now his tires would get stuck in them. “Go where, Cade?”

  “To Moselle’s house. I have a plan.”

  Jackson started the car and took one last look out the window at Lonzo. All he could see of the rotting man was his legs, stretched out and still, draped out of the monster’s mouth.

  POP. POP. POP.

  Cade fired three more shots and one of the tentacles that held Lonzo fell free.

  “Cade?” Sabrina said in a soft, tired voice.

  “No, Sabrina, it’s Jackson.”

  “Oh.”

  Jackson wasn’t sure if she sounded disappointed or not.

  “Are you okay, Sabrina?”

  “Weak,” she whispered.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Take me someplace warm and sunny. Get me a strong drink and a nice massage.”

  Jackson started to drive. “I’ll do my best.”

  Escape From L.A.

  Cade fired again, but he knew it was useless. The living oil had devoured the ghoul. Cade was only keeping up appearances in order to maintain morale. In fact, he did not want to save the ghoul’s life; to him, the ghoul was an abomination, no different than the Tainted. That rotting thing also marked a painful reminder. Cade knew he could become that, and to let his mind focus on such a thing now, while in combat, would be a dire mistake.

  After Jackson sped off, Cade fired one last shot, this one into the air. The police will arrive soon. Let them deal with what’s left here. A large crack in the pavement peeled open in front of him. He stared into it as gasses rose out. If there’s any here left.

  As he turned to dash away, he saw Peter, the man Moselle said was having an affair with Sabrina, laid out on the ground not far from where the limo had been. What’s going on here?

  The one living oil that had eaten Lonzo had grown to twice its mass while the other crept closer to Peter.

  “Cade!”

  It was Moselle. Things must be getting dicey back at the fire truck. There’s no more time to waste. Cade withdrew a flask from his jacket’s inside pocket and popped the cork. He holstered his gun and retrieved his lighter next.

  Police sirens filled the night air and the ground shook beneath his feet. Just like the hospital. Cade could sense it. This place is about to get sucked under.

  He tucked his handkerchief into the opening of the flask and lit it with his lighter.

  “I loved this flask,” he shouted. “Leanne gave it to me for my birthday long…long ago.”

  Cade tossed the thing between Peter and the two living oil puddles. The moment it hit the ground, it spilled open and the gasoline inside ignited. Cade heard screeches; he’d hurt them.

  “Did you really think I would come unprepared?” Cade asked and then turned away. “Never again.”

  He found it hard to run in a straight line, the ground shook so bad. When he got to the fire engine, he saw why Moselle had screamed. There must have been three dozen of those flying slime bats and they all circled and swooped down at her.

  “Start her up!”

  “You want me to drive?” Moselle sounded shocked.

  “Better you than me!”

  “Hardly, I’d say.”

  “Well, someone has to drive.”

  Moselle moved from the passenger to the driver’s seat. “Where are Jackson and Sabrina?”

  “Didn’t you see the limo speed by?”

  “I did.”

  “There’s your answer.”

  “And Peter?”

  Cade looked over his shoulder. There was Peter, limp and lifeless, but afloat in midair and going straight up into the sky.

  “I see. Weston’s got him,” Moselle said, turning the key. “Good thinking, Cade.”

  “Right, Weston’s taking him to the hospital…of course.” He stepped in a puddle of goo, one of the slimes he had killed, and quickly scraped his boot before he jumped up into the fire engine’s cab and shut the door.

  “Let’s roll out,” he said to Moselle. “Follow that limo.”

  “Follow Jackson?”

  “He knows where to go. Straight back to your house.”

  Moselle attempted to make a U-turn, but the ground broke open and the front end of the fire engine sunk quickly into the crack.

  “Damn it.”

  “I told you Cade, you should drive.”

  “Put it in reverse, Moselle,” he instructed. “Ease out of it.”

  Moselle tried but that didn’t work. The tires spun as she pressed harder and harder on the gas.

  “We’re stuck.”

  “Damn it,” Cade grumbled as he opened the door.

  He jumped out of the fire engine and carefully approached the front of it. The tires were undamaged but swallowed up in the hole. Another crack formed to the side of him and pieces of pavement fell down inside it. The smell of carbon monoxide had grown as potent as what he’d smelled at the hospital just before its collapse. It’s now or never.

  “Steady pressure on the gas pedal, Moselle,” Cade coached. “And stay in reverse.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m gonna push!” He shouted.

  Cade balanced himself on the edge of the crack as it crumbled beneath him.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Cade pushed with all his might. At first the truck only edged slightly back. He had not had to draw upon his vampire strength in some time. He forgot how
it took a moment to rally it. Cade drew a deep breath, focused, and pushed harder and harder.

  “Accelerate more. Slowly.”

  He heard the tires spin faster as his muscles themselves began to fill with the strength needed. He bared his teeth and his eyes filled with blood. Cade felt the undeniable urge to kill. Suddenly, the tires caught and the fire engine surged backward.

  “Let’s go!” Cade teetered a moment on the edge of the growing crack in the pavement, then jumped up and to the top of the fire engine, where the hose turret was. “I’ll ride up here.”

  Moselle steered around and out the entrance of the self-storage facility without hitting another crack or hole.

  “Good work, Moselle!” he cheered.

  “Die vampire!”

  One of the slime bats swooped directly at him. Foolish, he thought as he snatched it from the sky and tore it in two.

  “This ends tonight, Tainted.”

  Two police cars screamed past the fire engine. Cade smiled and waved as they did. He knew they were going to share the same fate as the last cops he’d encountered. And no sooner did he have the thought than he watched the corner of the storage facility suddenly buckle and then crumble down, swallowed up by Pollution. One police car drove right into the hole; the other, Cade was surprised to see, pulled away in the last moment.

  “Lucky bastards.”

  Moselle must have turned on the radio inside the fire engine because he heard it squawk and then crackle with static as she tuned it to a steady voice. It was an emergency broadcast, and it described damage all about town. They must think this is the big one.

  “Moselle, tune to a channel that is covering street closures and put the siren on.”

  Cade wasn’t sure if she’d heard him so he moved to the roof of the cab. Moselle was steering erratically and he could now see why. The street was cluttered with cracks. Cade looked back and saw a giant hole spreading rapidly behind them.

  “Moselle!” Cade hung himself over the side of the cab, so he could yell in the window at her.

  “Cade!” Moselle jumped. “Like I don’t have enough to worry about.”

  “I’d say I’m sorry—”

  “Save your charm for Sabrina.”

  “Good then. Hand me my satchel. On the floor there.” He pointed.

  Once in hand, he took a quick glance inside and then strung the strap over his shoulder.