Redneck Eldritch

by Nathan Shumate

  Ogre was standing out front, .357 Magnum in one hand, his to-go bag in the other. He was shooting at a variety of horrifying beings: unclean Gugs, tentacle-faced Moon Beasts, buzzing Mi-Go, the wraith-like Hounds of Tindalos, circling Hunting Horrors, and spiders the size of cars. Then all their infernal attentions were turned to The Squid and his approaching big black Mack.

  “Aww, crap.”

  13. Hair of the Dog

  “It is all the forces Nyarlathotep could muster at once!” said Shuarna, in a panic. “You can’t escape!”

  Slamming the truck into a lower gear, The Squid growled, “I ain’t trying to escape!”

  A pair of Gugs moved forward, standing taller than the cab of the truck. Hounds were behind them and so too were the awful toad-like Moon-Beasts.

  In her fright, Shuarna reverted to her true form, that of a towering, black-clad, yellow-eyed titan. Crouching in the passenger seat, she looked like she might burst from her seat belt. “I won’t be able to protect you! This is madness!”

  The fearsome bestiary of doom closed in on the truck, momentarily forgetting their business with Ogre.

  The Squid said, “Now, they’ll see they’re messing with a real son of a bitch!”

  The Squid plowed right into the Gugs, Hounds and Moon-Beasts. Unholy grey fur flew and blue ichor splashed from the Hounds. The gigantic soft bodies of the Moon-Beasts were ripped open by the awesome truck as it spun about the lot.

  Now the creatures scrambled to get out of the way, but The Squid succeeded in running them down left and right. A master of trailer control, he whipped the bed behind him, letting it skid across the gravel and pulverize his colossal enemies.

  “It can’t be!” exclaimed Shuarna. “You have harnessed the power of the Trapezohedron without me!”

  The Squid turned sharply as he could, saying, “I had an idea that the truck was impervious to those things after I saw that nothing had really damaged it, even when that Hunting Horror slammed us into the bike shop.” He spun about and rear-ended the last Gug. “I think we are bridging enough worlds, as you said, that we’re made of denser stuff!”

  A giant spider attempted to web the truck, but ate grill as The Squid slammed it into the wall of the waffle house.

  A Hunting Horror swooped down at the truck. The Squid flipped on his lights and pulled the air-horn, and the brightness melted the leviathan like a hot sidewalk melts a dropped popsicle. A pair of Mi-Go gyrated through the air and were hit by the top of the truck cab, disintegrating in a putrid explosion of muck.

  Ogre shouted, “Yeah! Eat that, you flying slug!” He shot his .357 at a retreating Mi-Go.

  The Squid pulled up to Ogre. “Get in, man!”

  Ogre clambered aboard. His hair was distinctly longer and greyer than when they had dropped him off.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Time,” answered Ogre.

  The Squid circled the truck and went over the top of another Moon Beast.

  The Mi-Go congregated in a swarm high above and after a brief buzzing congress, fled into the depths of the approaching twilight.

  A bruise-colored collection of blood covered the truck, along with Gug bits and hair, Moon-Beast tentacles, spider legs and even a broken Hound wrapped up in a wheel well.

  “Is it over?” asked Ogre. “That wasn’t so bad once you went all road-rage on them.”

  The Squid popped the truck out of gear and set the parking brake, then turned on his windshield wipers again to wash away more gore. “I don’t see anything else coming at us. Seems like, you know, they learned their lesson.”

  “It can’t be over,” said Shuarna. “There is no way he would give up so easily.”

  “Easily? You thought we were toast, but I turned all these monsters into road kill.”

  She watched out the windows warily, then said, “It is the power of the Trapezohedron. It melded with your truck and gave to it the power. I never would have believed you could wield it.”

  “Is that so wrong?” asked The Squid, as he grabbed a doobie from the sun visor and lit up. “I feel,” cough, cough, “pretty good about it.”

  “Gimme a toke,” said Ogre.

  Shuarna talked as much to herself as the two of them. “It is unheard of. A bare handful of mortals have ever been able to utilize the power of the Dreamlands. I underestimated you.”

  “Will you look at yourself,” said The Squid, pointing at Ogre. “You look like you’re thirty years older!” His friend had greyed considerably and sagged around the middle and jowls.

  “I am, Squid. Time got weird after you guys left me. I’ve spent 1990 through 2016 in Moab, Utah. I shouldn’t have taken so long to think to call you up on the CB.”

  “But I called you, and that was just an hour or so after we last saw you.”

  “Not to me, Dude.” He pointed at the waffle house behind the idling truck. It said Ogre’s in neon lights. “I decided to stay put and wait. I just didn’t think it would take so long.”

  The Squid’s smile dropped, “I’m sorry, man.”

  “No, no. I’ve made out all right. I own the waffle house and got myself a nice little woman named Dorothy. When tourist season hits, we do real well.”

  “Well, good, man.”

  “Please,” interrupted Shuarna. “He is here.”

  “What? Who?”

  “My father. Nyarlathotep.”

  The Squid’s face was covered in surprise and he dropped his roach.

  “Squid, who the funk is that?” asked Ogre, pointing at a tall dusky man in semi-Egyptian garb approaching the truck. A tall white crown was the only contrast to the black that clothed him, and in his hand was a twisted long scepter or staff. “His hat looks like a bowling pin,” muttered Ogre.

  “Shut up, man. Shuarna, is he pissed? Like, is he gonna think we kidnapped you or something?”

  “No, he is angry I stole one of the Shining Trapezohedrons for myself.”

  Shuarna opened the door of the truck and stepped out. The Squid followed to stand by her. Ogre got out but hung back.

  Nyarlathotep glared at them with piercing yellow eyes. “Well?” His voice sounded like it came from a deep cavern, echoing and dark.

  “You said I should experience their realm for myself. This seemed a natural way.”

  “Thief,” he said, coldly.

  “You limited my choices. I did what you would have done.”

  “You will be punished.” His staff shot up and a crushing force swept Shuarna to her knees. She was strangled and smothered as if by a great invisible hand.

  “Let her go!” The Squid broke in.

  Glancing at The Squid and Ogre, Nyarlathotep spun the staff in their direction and knocked their feet out from under them.

  The Squid caught himself on his truck. He kept a hand on the truck’s handle above the running board and challenged again. “Let her go!

  Nyarlathotep focused an invisible force, beating down upon him but The Squid crawled up the rig’s running board and managed to open the door. Once inside he started the engine.

  His dark nemesis, Nyarlathotep, pulled Shuarna and Ogre to himself, their feet dragging across the pavement as he reeled them in. “Surrender to me,” demanded Nyarlathotep.

  “Don’t think so,” sputtered The Squid, still fighting the force that churned his insides with every breath.

  Nyarlathotep raged and cast both Shuarna and Ogre to the side. The Squid’s gaze met the Black Pharaoh’s and neither flinched. More monstrous creatures appeared in his peripheral vision, and The Squid knew they were closing in on him.

  Nyarlathotep stepped closer, sending shockwaves of power at The Squid. “Exit and kneel before me.”

  The Squid made like he just might step out, but then he grinned, dropped the gear on the truck and stomped the pedal. The big black Mack smacked into the Crawling Chaos like the hammer of the gods. The crown cracked and staff shattered. The monsters vanished as bright noonday light suddenly appeared. Everything looked normal again.


  Nyarlathotep slowly stood and took a step back from his human antagonist.

  Leaning out the window, The Squid said, “That’s right, man. I can focus some of the Dreamlands’ power myself and you can’t ruin me.” Ogre got up and stumbled to be next to the truck. Shuarna climbed up the running board, reached and put her arms around The Squid.

  “It seems I must respect your power here,” said Nyarlathotep.

  “That’s right. And I need you to leave Shuarna alone. She did the wrong thing for the right reason. She told me all about it. Cut her some slack, jack.”

  Nyarlathotep looked to his daughter with a piercing stare.

  The Squid continued, “Hey, man. For what it’s worth, no real harm was done. It’s all good.”

  “Uh, Squid,” broke in Ogre, as he kicked a broken Hound of Tindalos out of the wheel well.

  “Well,” said The Squid, sheepishly. “Those things started it. So I’m sorry if I killed your dog or whatever it was.”

  Nyarlathotep looked about and took in the gruesome carnage and broken monstrous bodies of a dozen Gugs, Moon-Beasts, Hounds and more, and he laughed, a deep malevolent roar without mirth. It made The Squid and Ogre terribly uncomfortable.

  “You have tread where no man has before, and yet you do it with an ignorant impunity that has warmed my daughter in her own transgression. It would be a cosmic joke to punish you any further. So be it. Go your way.”

  “So we’re cool?”

  Nyarlathotep’s gaze narrowed as his eyes were but slivers of light that shone beneath a black door to the abyss. “Yes, we are… cool.”

  “Am I free to continue?” asked Shuarna.

  “Go thy way, daughter, tread the forbidden paths now that you have the key to cross the worlds without end. But do not cross me again.” With that, Nyarlathotep turned and his shade vanished like an invisible door shut.

  “Does that mean we can keep on trucking?”

  Shuarna smiled. “I’d like to. There are many more realms to see.”

  “Then I’ll fire her up and we’ll get going.”

  14. Space Truckin’

  The two men clasped hands and hugged one last time. “You take care of yourself, Ogre-man.”

  “Will do, Squid.”

  “We better get moving,” said Shuarna, from the cab window.

  “Where are you gonna go? What are you gonna do, Squid-man?”

  “I’m just gonna keep on trucking with her. This Earth here ain’t a time for me anymore.” He fired up the rig.

  “Seems awful dangerous, man. You don’t know what other crazy shite is out there!”

  “I know, but I’m gonna find out, aren’t I?” he said, with a grin. Shuarna reached over and gave him a big kiss. “Living the dream, brother! Take her easy,” said The Squid.

  “Take her easy,” answered Ogre, as he stood watching. The rig pulled out onto the asphalt and went down the road toward the sunset vanishing into a midnight-soaked blur.

  So that, my friends, is how the man known as The Squid started space-trucking across the universe. I don’t know about you, but I’m kinda glad he’s out there, keeping an eye on things for all of us.

  Take her easy.

  CONTRIBUTORS

  Jason A. Anderson was raised in Southern California before moving to Utah to attend high school. While a teenager, he conceived and began writing his teen adventure series, “The Starriders Saga.” Never one to let grass grow under his feet, he continued exploring different story concepts and struck upon what has become the “SoulChaser Universe,” which includes teen paranormal subseries, “The Jean Archer Quartet.” Besides being a father and writer, his passions include theater production, fast cars, off-roading, rock’n roll, and Harley-Davidsons.

  D.J. (Dave) Butler is the author of middle grade fantasy adventure The Kidnap Plot (Knopf, June 2016) and the blackpowder epic fantasy Witchy Eye (Baen, 2017). He is Acquisitions Editor at WordFire Press, and you can read more about him at davidjohnbutler.com.

  Garrett Calcaterra is author of the YA fantasy series The Dreamwielder Chronicles and other works of dark speculative fiction. His short work has appeared in Black Gate, Confrontation, and Arkham Tales, among others. Garrett lives and writes in California. To learn more, visit garrettcalcaterra.com or follow Garrett on twitter @Gcalcaterra.

  Jaleta Clegg loves telling stories, especially weird and silly ones. Or ones with spaceships and aliens and explosions. Or ones with swords and magic. Or pretty much anything that isn’t quite the normal world. She writes mainly space opera and silly horror, but is branching out into high fantasy and steampunk fairies. Look for her work at jaletac.com.

  Robert J Defendi was born in Dubuque, IA (in accordance with prophecy). He reads voraciously, if you consider audiobooks reading (which you shouldn’t). He has yet to find, conquer, and rule a small Central American country (but I think we all know that’s inevitable). He is neither Team Jacob nor Team Edward (he is sympathetic to Team Guy-Who-Almost-Hit-Bella-With-A-Truck). He shamelessly stole that last joke.

  Steve Diamond is the author of the YA paranormal thriller/horror novel Residue. He is also the co-editor of the horror anthology Shared Nightmares. His short fiction was nominated for the Hugo Award in 2015. Steve writes for Ragnarok, Baen, Privateer Press, and numerous small publications. He founded and runs the review site Elitist Book Reviews, which was nominated for the Hugo Award in 2013, 2014 and 2015.

  Born in Texas and currently living in Utah, David Dunwoody writes subversive horror fiction including the novels Hell Walks, The Harvest Cycle and Empire. Most recent is his post-apocalyptic dark fantasy The 3 Egos. His short stories have been published by such outfits as Chaosium, Shroud, Gallery, and Dark Regions. More info and free fiction at daviddunwoody.com.

  Theric Jepson’s lighthearted college-students-in-love novel Byuck includes a scene in which a monstrous subterranean god devours blind mermaids. His novella Perky Erect Nipples, however, contains nothing eldritch at all.

  Robert Masterson is an award-winning writer, editor and teacher and the author of Garnish Trouble (forthcoming in July 2016 from Finishing Line Press), Artificial Rats & Electric Cats (Camber Press, 2008) and Trial by Water (Dog Running Wild Press, 1982), Masterson’s creative work (both literary and horror), journalism, interviews, and creative nonfiction have appeared in numerous anthologies, journals, magazines, and newspapers websites throughout the world. An English professor at the City University of New York’s Borough of Manhattan Community College campus, Masterson holds both a BA and an MA (with distinction) in English Literature from the University of New Mexico, Albuquerque; an MFA from Naropa University's Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics; and a weird little academic certificate from Shaanxi Normal University in the People’s Republic of China.

  Nathan Shumate is a writer, media critic, editor, small-press publisher, and assemblage artist. He has written (and gotten paid for) comic books scripts, screenplays, and various forms of fiction and nonfiction. He is the instigator and publisher of the Lovecraftian pulp space opera Space Eldritch anthologies. He also unleashed LousyBookCovers.com onto the world. His webcomic CheapCaffeine.net appears weekdaily. His latest book is The Last Christmas Gift: A Heartwarming Holiday Tale of the Living Dead.

  Through two wonderful mentored research experiences, Sarah E. Seeley had the opportunity to work with dead sauropods and ancient odonates while acquiring her undergraduate degree in geology from Brigham Young University. She hopes to study more dead things in the future and contribute to scientific discussions about what makes life on Earth so amazing. In the meantime, she explores the bright side of being human by writing dark fiction. Sarah’s stories appear in Leading Edge Magazine and various anthologies. Her independently published works include Maladaptive Bind and “Blood Oath: An Orc Love Story.” She is an affiliate member of the Horror Writers Association. To learn more, visit her author blog at SlithersOfThought.com.

  Scott William Taylor is a husband, father, writer, just your ordinary crim
e-fighting blogger, father of 4, husband of 1, owner of a dog, owned by 2 cats. He is the writer of the award winning short film Wrinkles, and writer of the upcoming feature film, Edwin. He blogs at scottywattydoodlealltheday.blogspot.com.

  Brad R. Torgersen is a multi-award-nominated and multi-award-winning science fiction writer whose short fiction has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies, and whose novels are published by Baen Books. A Chief Warrant Officer in the United States Army Reserve, Brad recently spent a year on deployment to the Middle East. Married for over twenty-two years, Brad is also a father, and has two decades of experience supporting technology in the healthcare industry.

  Ian Welke grew up in the library in Long Beach, California. After receiving his Bachelor of Arts in History from California State University, Long Beach, he worked in the computer games industry for fifteen years where he was lucky enough to work at Blizzard Entertainment and at Runic Games in Seattle. While living in Seattle he sold his first short story, a space-western, written mainly because he was depressed that Firefly had been canceled. Following the insane notion that life is short and he should do what he wants most, he moved back to southern California and started writing full time. Ian’s short fiction has appeared in Big Pulp, Arcane II, the American Nightmare anthology, and the 18 Wheels of Horror anthology, amongst other places. His novels The Whisperer in Dissonance (2014) and the Bram Stoker Award-nominated End Times at Ridgemont High (2015) were both published by Ominum Gatherum Media.

  David J. West writes dark fantasy and weird westerns because the voices in his head won’t quiet until someone else can hear them. He is a great fan of sword & sorcery, ghosts and lost ruins, so of course he lives in Utah in with his wife and children. You can visit him online at: david-j-west.blogspot.com, twitter.com/David_JWest, and david-j-west.tumblr.com.