Anomaly Flats

by Clayton Smith

  “Great.” Mallory turned uneasily back to the birdbath. The spear rested atop it, seemingly innocuous. She raised her hand once again and started hovering it closer to the weapon. “Do I just…grab it?”

  Colleen shook her head. “Nope. You’ll want to replace it with a bag of sand that weighs exactly the same. Otherwise, the fountain sinks into the earth, and the whole backyard turns into one big booby trap.”

  Mallory stayed her hand. She glanced over her shoulder. “Seriously?”

  “Of course not. That shit would cost a fortune.”

  Mallory shook her head and turned back to the spear. “All right,” she said aloud, taking a few deep breaths. “Here goes nothing.” She reached for the iron shaft…and when she was just a few inches away, her hand disappeared. “Oh, for crying out loud,” she said. “You encased it in portals?!”

  Colleen nodded proudly. “Safer that way.”

  Mallory’s fingers had slid back into existence just behind the spear, about a foot above the curved, forked end. She set her eyes on the disembodied hand, determined; her tongue poked itself out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on the angle. She twisted her arm upward, and the hand above the spear turned downward. She reached her arm up, and her hand reached down. It sank closer and closer to the spear, and just as she was about to seize the curved iron fork, her fingers disappeared again and reappeared on the far side of the birdbath, just out of reach of the center of the shaft.

  “Oh, come on!”

  She pushed her arm in up to the elbow. The hand to her left disappeared completely as the disembodied wrist pushed deeper into the second portal, and her fingers stretched out across the way and grasped for the spear. She twisted her arm down; the wrist on the left turned up, and the fingers curved down. Christ, she thought, it’s like guiding a forklift through a mirror. She twisted and turned, and her fingers responded in their own distinct physical reality. She pushed her arm in just a bit further and gave a little snort of triumph as her fingers brushed the cold, rough iron. She grasped the shaft and spun it around on the birdbath so that it pointed straight away from her hand, and straight toward her own waist. Then she heaved it up, drew it straight back, and the spear and her arm came together through the two portals, retreating through the air of three spaces at once.

  And just like that, Mallory held the all-powerful, extraterrestrial iron Spear of Rad.

  “Okay, you’re right,” Lewis said, squinting at the weapon in Mallory’s hand. “It does look like a crowbar.”

  Chapter 18

  “Well?” Mallory said, balancing the Spear of Rad across her lap. “Happy now?”

  Lewis glanced over at her as he navigated down the slightly curving road. “I’m feeling better about our chances, yes,” he admitted.

  “Then why do you still sound so damn depressed?”

  “Because better chances don’t necessarily mean good chances. We’re dealing with an ancient evil here. They tend to have a few tricks up their sleeves. Plus,” he added, “she didn’t keep the manual.”

  “Some ray of sunshine you are,” Mallory muttered. She bent over and examined the weapon in her lap. It was heavy, but small, and it wasn’t as unwieldy as she’d expected an all-powerful demon weapon to be. “Any idea what this says?” she asked, running her fingers along the runes stamped into the rusty iron.

  “Sponsored by Dish Network,” Lewis said without looking.

  Mallory wrinkled her eyebrows. “Get out of here,” she said.

  “Honestly. That’s what it says.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “Dish Network sponsors all sorts of things.”

  “Including ancient alien crowbars?”

  Lewis just shrugged. “Apparently.”

  Mallory shook her head. “This place is so weird.” She hefted the spear a few times and picked at the rust that had crusted over the curved end of the spear. Then she shrugged and tossed it into the back of the RV. It crashed against a crate and shattered the beakers inside. “Whoops…”

  Lewis sighed. “It’s fine. I have more.”

  Mallory nodded. “I figured you did.” She propped her foot up on the dashboard as they rumbled through the uninspiring countryside. “So what’ll Jane of the Jungle do if you don’t get the spear back to her?”

  Lewis bit his lip nervously. “Probably use me for some sort of target practice.”

  “She sure loves her Second Amendment,” she said.

  Lewis nodded. “It’s one of her favorites.”

  “Okay, look, I’m just going to say it,” Mallory said, slapping her knee. “She terrifies me.”

  Lewis smiled a bit. “Exactly why she’s a good person to have on your side.”

  Mallory was about to ask exactly what it was that psychopaths brought to the table when suddenly there was a low hum from overhead. She craned her neck and looked up through the window, but she didn’t see anything. Whatever it was that was making the sound, it was directly overhead. “What is that?” she asked.

  “Drone,” Lewis said.

  A long, thin, white aircraft zoomed ahead of the RV from above and skidded to an unceremonious stop in the road. Lewis slammed his foot on the brake, and the Winnebago shuddered to a halt, just two feet before grinding the drone into the gravel. Mallory threw out her hands and braced against the dashboard, but Lewis braked calmly, as if sudden stops were the most natural and expected thing in the world. And really, they probably were. “Are you expecting a message?” he asked.

  “A message?”

  Lewis nodded. “Drones do four things in Anomaly Flats; monitor activity from above, shoot lasers, drop bombs, and deliver messages. This one landed, and we’re not dead.”

  “So it’s a messenger drone.”

  As she said it, a small hatch opened on the top of the plane, and a scroll ejected from somewhere inside. It flew in a lazy arc and bounced lightly in the road, rolling in the wind and tumbling down into the drainage ditch on the south. Then the hatch closed, the drone fired up, and it zoomed down the road and back up into the air, disappearing above the trees.

  “Well, it’s effective,” Mallory admitted.

  Lewis unbuckled and jogged out after the message. He returned with the scroll and handed it over to Mallory. “It’s for you.”

  She frowned as she took the message. It was sealed with a blue sticker that had FEMALE IMPOSTER printed on it in white. “Nice,” she muttered. She peeled back the sticker and unfurled the little scroll. She read the message aloud. “Interloper: Your vehicle repairs are complete. Retrieve your vehicle and redistribute yourself appropriately beyond our borders.” It was signed by the Anomaly Flats Information Dissemination Department.

  “Hey, that’s great news!” Lewis said cheerily.

  “Music to every interloper’s ears,” Mallory replied, rolling her eyes.

  “People don’t…love outsiders here,” he said, as diplomatically as he could.

  “I’ve noticed. Your life must be fun.”

  “But your car is fixed! That’s great!”

  “It is great,” Mallory confirmed, “though your evil double still has my bag.”

  “Well, one victory at a time.”

  Mallory allowed a small smile to creep across her lips. “Do we have time to pick it up?”

  “We do indeed.”

  Mallory nodded and leaned back in her seat. “Then take me to the mechanic’s shop, Jeeves. I’ve got some gettin’ the hell out of here to prep for.”

  X

  “You’re all fixed up. Alternator works. Car runs. I did what I said I’d do.”

  Mallory tried not to stare as thick globs of drool plopped down from Rufus’ jaw and spattered on the blacktop. She sidestepped the liquid shrapnel of one especially large slobber bomb but still managed to get a d
rip of Rufus spit on her shoe. She decided to magnanimously ignore it, seeing as how an ancient evil had once scrambled his brain and all.

  And also considering that he’d just made it possible for her to leave Anomaly Flats.

  “This is great,” she said. “Ahead of schedule and everything. Thank you, Rufus.” She took his hands in hers and squeezed them in a manner that she considered appropriately nice. “Will it keep working?” she asked. “Is it magnetic field-proof now?”

  Rufus snorted, which caused a sickeningly green glob of something to come rocketing up out of his throat. It missed Mallory’s shoulder by an uncomfortable three inches. “Can’t make it magnetic-proof. Field’s low today, though. You’ll want to get going soon.”

  “Couldn’t agree with you more,” Mallory grumbled under her breath.

  Rufus pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his greasy hands. “Didn’t take as long as I thought, ‘cause most of the parts in your old one were pretty good,” he explained. “Guy who built the old alternator did a pretty good job.”

  “Guy?” Mallory asked, trying her best not to look condescending, and failing miserably. “You mean Chevrolet?”

  “Whoever.” He sucked back on a line of drool that had started to spill from his jaw. It reversed itself and crept back up into his mouth. “Fixed the dent in the door, too.”

  Mallory circled around the Impala and admired the smooth surface of the passenger door. “It looks really good,” she admitted. “Like it never happened.”

  Rufus just stared at her. “Yup.”

  She ran her hand lovingly along the hood. “Ooooh, I’ve missed you,” she whispered. Then she turned to Rufus. “So. I know you don’t know me, like, at all…but how’s my credit here? My wallet was hijacked by—”

  But Rufus shook his head, stopping her with a little shower of flailing spittle. “Bill’s been paid.”

  Mallory jerked her head back in surprise. “Sorry, what?”

  “Paid up.” Rufus reached into the pocket of his coveralls and fished out Mallory’s keys. “You’re all set.”

  Mallory eyed the keys suspiciously and did not reach for them. “Who paid?”

  “Man in a white coat. Bow tie. Had a mustache.”

  Mallory grabbed Lewis by the elbow and dragged him over so he stood directly in front of Lewis. “Did he look like this?” she demanded.

  Rufus shook his head. “He had a mustache,” he said, stressing the last word so hard that flecks of spittle flew from his teeth.

  Mallory wiped the saliva from her cheek. “I understand that he had a mustache. Besides the mustache, did he look like Lewis?”

  Rufus shook his head again. “Not the same at all. He had a mustache.”

  “He had a mustache, Mallory…it wasn’t my clone,” Lewis threw in, trying to break free of her grasp.

  “You know…” Mallory began, shaking her head in exasperation. Then she sighed and waved her hands. “Never mind. Forget it. Why did he pay my bill? What did he say?”

  Rufus shrugged, his shoulders ratcheting up slowly toward his ears. “Said he was a friend. Overpaid, matter of fact. Said he didn’t care ’bout the change.” Rufus dug a wad of bills out of his pocket and held it out for Mallory. She took the money uncertainly and peeled open the bills.

  “$30,” she said dryly. “I’m rich.”

  “It’s all ready to go.” He held the keys out and jangled them a bit.

  Mallory swiped them out of his hand. “Looks like your evil clone wants me out of the picture,” she said, turning to Lewis. “I like the way he thinks.”

  Lewis rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t my clone, Mallory, he—”

  “I know, I know, he had a mustache. Jesus, Lewis, you’re the most selectively smart person I’ve ever known.”

  “What do you—?”

  “Forget it,” she said, cutting him off with a shake of her head. “Let’s just go get my backpack so I can leave this crummy hell-hole behind.”

  “Oh,” said Rufus suddenly, and loudly, as if he’d just remembered something very important. “This backpack?” He popped open the door to the back seat and pulled out a purple Jansport.

  “My bag!” Mallory gasped, snatching it out of his hands and gaping at it. She turned her eyes to Rufus and screwed up her face in exquisite confusion. “He gave you my bag?” Rufus just nodded. Mallory whumped the backpack down on top of the car and unzipped it. “It’s all here,” she murmured, rifling through the contents. “He didn’t take anything.” Why didn’t he take anything?

  “Best of luck.” Rufus tilted his head by way of goodbye as a little waterfall of drool poured down onto the asphalt. Then he turned and shuffled back into the garage.

  Mallory turned to Lewis, her mouth hanging open. She held up the backpack, as if he might not believe it existed unless it was right in front of his face. “He brought me my bag,” she said softly.

  Lewis nodded grimly. “Maybe this mustachioed man is somehow connected to my clone,” he said, fretfully rubbing his chin. “Mallory, I think for some reason, he wants you to leave.”

  Mallory zipped up the bag and hiked it onto her shoulder. “That makes two of us,” she said. She turned and put her hands on Lewis’ arms. “Look. I know we’ve got this major battle with an ancient evil that could mean the end for everyone in Anomaly Flats and might or might not destroy the entire world. So don’t take this the wrong way. But I’ve got things to do. Things that aren’t here. So I think I’m gonna go.”

  Lewis started. “Wait—you’re what?”

  “I’m leaving. I have my car, I have my bag…that’s what I’m in this for, and now I have them. Therefore, I am getting the proverbial fuck out of Dodge.” She pulled open the driver’s door and tossed the backpack inside. “I’m sorry, Lewis. But really, I think you’re gonna be fine.” She gave his shoulder a little pat. “You got this.”

  “Mallory! You can’t leave!” Lewis leapt forward and grabbed the frame of the door, pulling on it and refusing to let it close. “You have to help me! We shook on it!”

  “No, Lewis, I don’t have to help you. The only thing I have to do is get to Canada before the Missouri State Highway Patrol closes all the roads in a 50-mile radius.” She attacked Lewis’ fingers with her own, prying them back from the car door.

  “Argh!” Lewis cursed as she twisted his fingers back. “You’re so sturdy!”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  She slammed her fist down on his remaining fingers with a dull thud, and he howled in pain. He released his grip on the door and tried to shake the agony from his hands, hopping from one foot to the other and crying. “Don’t do this!” he wailed.

  “I don’t owe this terrifying-ass town anything,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I’ve put up with way too much shit in the last two days. There are tentacles, Lewis—tentacles. And portal farms, and plasma creeks, and hypnotic voids, and people with flies swarming out of their mouths.” She tried not to vomit as she said it. “So get out of the way and let me leave, or I’m running you over.” She climbed into the car and slammed the door.

  “But you caused this!” Lewis screeched, smacking his hands against the window. “You made the clone, now you’re just going to abandon us when he’s about to let out the evil in aisle 8?!”

  “Sorry about that,” she said through the glass. “Really. Best of luck.”

  “Don’t do this!” he repeated, his voice cracking with desperation. “I don’t know if I can stop him alone! Don’t just leave us to die here! You can’t! Mallory, you can’t!”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked, turning the key in the ignition. It fired up on the first try. The Impala had never sounded so smooth. “And why’s that?”

  Lewis pressed his palms against the glass, looking like a young boy who just realized what it meant f
or a dog to be put down. “Because you’re a good person,” he said.

  That was too much. Mallory threw off her seatbelt, popped the latch, and shoved her shoulder into the door. It slammed into Lewis’ chest, and he toppled down onto the asphalt. “A good person?” she screamed, stepping out of the car. “A good person? You don’t know shit about me, Lewis!” She snatched the purple backpack from inside the car and yanked open the zipper. She held the bag open so Lewis could see inside. “Look at this! Look at it! Is this what a good person carries around in a fucking Jansport?”

  Lewis peered into the backpack. He gasped, and his eyes grew large. “Mallory,” he said quietly, shaking his head slowly. “What is this?”

  “This is one-point-three million dollars, in hundreds. And this?” she asked, unzipping the front pocket and tilting the bag so Lewis could see the pile of glittering diamonds inside. “This is another hundred thousand.”

  Lewis sat on the blacktop, stunned. He gazed up at Mallory, then back down at the bag, and then up at Mallory once more. His mouth worked itself into a silent frenzy for a good ten seconds before he finally said, “Mallory…you’re a jewel thief?”

  Mallory rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot, I’m not a jewel thief. I’m a woman who got sick of her boss’ deprecating, chauvinistic, ass-grabbing bullshit and cleaned out the motherfucker’s wall safe while he was in Barbados. And now I’m fleeing the country, heading toward a safe house in Canada with a slight fucking detour through the Twilight Zone.” She zipped up the bag and threw it back into the car. “But the detour’s over.” She climbed behind the wheel and slammed the door. She rolled down the window and frowned down at the stunned scientist. “Good luck with your demon,” she said. “I mean that.”

  Then she put the car into drive and left the repair shop behind.

  X

  Evil Lewis smiled behind his binoculars. This was going even better than he’d planned.