New Title 1

by Millard, Adam

  21

  “Run that by me again,” Kellerman said, tapping the tube of fish-food until the flakes sprinkled out and landed in the water of his tank. “It sounded as if you were telling me you, I mean we, could bring electricity back to Oilhaven.” He sniggered. “Which, of course, is impossible.”

  El Oscuro took a sip from the glass the mayor had handed him, not anticipating that the liquid contained within was genuine, undiluted alcohol. “Holy shit,” he croaked. “This is real whiskey.”

  Climbing down the stepladder leaning against his aquarium, Kellerman said, “Not only that, but it’s one of only three bottles remaining from that year. You should consider yourself privileged.”

  The other bandits, who hadn’t been handed a glass, scowled at their leader. He saw their reproachful glances and smirked, licking the side of his glass with mock pleasure.

  “What are you doing?” Kellerman said, sneaking up on El Oscuro like a miming ninja.

  “Er, nothing,” said the bandit, taking another sip from the glass. “So, yes, where was I? Oh, yeah, electricity! Not impossible. In fact, we saw it with our very own eyes, and managed to get some blueprints down before we were chased out of town by their sheriff.”

  “Sheriff, huh?” Kellerman said, thoughtfully. “What was his name, this sheriff?”

  All of a sudden, the whiskey left a bad taste in El Oscuro’s mouth. “I didn’t get his name,” he said. “But he was definitely a sheriff. He had the badge and bad attitude to prove it.”

  “Sounds about right,” Kellerman said, pouring himself a large whiskey. By now, those without glasses were practically drooling. “So, you think you know how to rig this place up, just like the old days? No more diesel generators? No more batteries?”

  El Oscuro nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said. “We come from a very long line of professional electricians. Blink over there, he was the guy who wired up The White House. And Samuel…well, let’s just say the Queen of England would have been pissing in the dark if it wasn’t for him.”

  Kellerman frowned, which was never a good sign as far as the bandits were concerned. “If you’re all professional electricians,” he said, “then how come you haven’t been able to figure this out until now? Until you stumbled upon this mystery town north of here?”

  “That,” El Oscuro said, “is a damn good question, and one I would love for my colleague and wife, Red, to answer for you.”

  Red, who was blonder than any woman Kellerman had seen in the last twenty years, was slightly taken aback by being thrust into the limelight. Also, she made a mental note to kick El Oscuro very hard in the nut-sack when they got out of there.

  “Well, until now,” Red said, slightly flustered, “we haven’t come across the equipment needed to complete the work. But this fiction…I mean, mystery town has everything we need. Once we get the go-ahead, we’ll strip that place clean in the middle of the night and get it all transported here. You get your electric, we get our contract. It’s a win-win situation if ever I heard one.”

  Kellerman nodded. He liked the cut of this woman’s jib. “Okay, so say I might be interested,” he said. “What do you need from me?”

  El Oscuro puffed out his cheeks and pretended to do some figures in his head. He was, of course, doing nothing of the sort. In fact, while everyone else thought he was doing math, he was really thinking about how hard Red was going to kick him in the nut-sack when they got out of there. “Do you have any bullion?” he said. “Jewellery? Silver? Brass?”

  “Actually, I have a rather fine selection of silver…” But that was as far as Kellerman got before doubling over, pain coursing through every inch of him, as if a family of poisonous ants were using his arteries as a nest.

  “You alright, mate?” Thumbs asked.

  “Of course he’s not alright,” Blink said, pointing at the folded over mayor. “People don’t just do that for the fun of it.”

  “I’m…I’m okay,” Kellerman lied, clutching at his stomach. I was doing so well, he thought. So, so well…

  “You don’t look okay,” Red opined.

  “If the man says he’s okay,” El Oscuro said, nonchalantly sipping at his whiskey – his incredible, wonderful whisky – “then he’s okay. Ain’t that right, Mr Kellerman?”

  But Kellerman could no longer speak, for his tongue was twice the size it had been a second ago.

  “He’s going to fart,” Blink said. “I’ve seen that look before, and it’s usually followed up with a colossal guff.”

  “Are you going to fart, Mr Kellerman?” Red said, taking a step away from the obviously pained man. “Because, I know things pretty much went out the window after The Event with regards to general etiquette, but there is a lady present, and—”

  Kellerman’s head snapped back at the exact same time the colour drained from his eyes.

  “This is gonna be some fart,” Samuel said.

  The mayor, in that moment, seemed to grow several inches. His suit expanded outwards as muscles rippled beneath. Audible tearing sounds filled the room. Even the fish turned away, reluctant to watch what happened next.

  “What’s happening to hi…” was all Samuel managed before his head was knocked from his shoulders by a giant, black tail, which seemed to be poking out of Kellerman’s arsehole. Blood spurted from the stump of the freshly decapitated bandit’s neck, pattering down onto the luxurious, cream carpet like rain on a tin roof. By the time the body crumpled lifelessly to the floor, pandemonium had ensued.

  “Weapons!” El Oscuro shouted, tearing the pants from the end of his sword.

  “What is it!?” Red screeched, pulling out a small knife.

  “Is Samuel dead!?” asked Blink, who wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the best of times, let alone when he was faced with a grotesque monster.

  Kellerman had grown to twice his original size. His tail – a dragon-like appendage replete with scales and spines – whipped around the room, searching for its next victim. From the mayor’s hands, claws sprouted out, tearing at the carpet beneath as if it had said something to offend him.

  Thumbs rushed for the door, but the tail got there first, slamming it shut before knocking the digitless bandit across the room with one formidable swing.

  “Lop its fucking head off!” Red screeched, forcing herself as far into a corner as she could possibly get. If she was to turn around in that moment, she would have found herself face-to-face with a rather solemn looking angelfish.

  El Oscuro lunged forwards, swinging the sword as if he knew what he was doing. The truth of the matter was, he’d never really had to use it before. All of his moves he’d learned from Shogun Assassin and Lone Wolf and Cub, classic Japanese films he’d owned as a youngster. The only thing he’d ever killed with it was a rat that had crept up on him one night in the desert, and even that had been a fluke.

  “Mmmmmmk!” the giant ball of scales and claws groaned. “Mmmmmmmmk!”

  “What the fuck does it want!?” Red yelled from the corner of the room.

  “It wants mmmmmmmmk!” Thumbs said. “Does anyone have any mmmmmmk!?”

  There were shakings of heads as they determined, between them, that mmmmmk was not readily available.

  Blink was about to make a run for the door when a clawed hand, seemingly from nowhere, latched onto his ankle. “Ah! Get it off! It’s got me!”

  “Calm down!” El Oscuro said. “You’ll make it angry!”

  Although, knocking someone’s head from their shoulders could have been considered quite a curmudgeonly thing to do.

  Blink tried to stamp on the thing. “Fuck! You! Fuck! You!” On the bright side, he thought, his inner-monologue a lot calmer than his outer, we never had any electricity to begin with, so the joke’s on you, motherfucker! But then his ankle snapped to one side, the bone revealing itself like a peeled banana, and any inner smugness he’d felt was quickly washed away, replaced only by pain of the highest order.

  “Kill the fucking thing!
” Thumbs said. “I’d do it myself, but I’ve only got this butter-knife.”

  Blink toppled backwards, his busted ankle flapping about as if independent to the rest of him. It was all he could do to remain conscious. Luckily, he didn’t have to suffer for long, as something appeared above him. A giant, dark mass, seeping white liquid from its pores. Those milky-white eyes gazing down at him, evilly. Those thin, sneering lips – like a well-healed scar – curling up ever-so-slightly, as if the thing was thoroughly enjoying itself. And then there were fists; two huge fists, and they were brought down with such force that, for just a moment, Blink’s eyes shut. It was the first time ever, and he didn’t even have time to celebrate as the fists continued all the way through his face and smashed into the carpet beneath.

  “Shit!” El Oscuro said, dancing around at the far side of the room. “We have to stop it!”

  “You don’t say,” Red sneered. She was looking for a way in, a way past all the flailing appendages and general grossness. “You’re the one with the sword.”

  El Oscuro glanced down at the samurai sword in his hand, then tossed it in the general direction of his female counterpart. It landed next to her feet. “Not anymore,” he said. “Now cut its fucking head off before it kills all of us!”

  Red reached down and grabbed the sword. It felt good in her hands, as if they were old friends, reunited at last.

  “Red!” Thumbs yelled. He was cornered by the creature, then it tails lashed out so fast it was barely visible, pinning him up against the gigantic aquarium, his legs dangling as if he was a marionette version of himself.

  “Miiiiiiillllllk!” the beast hissed, and then its arm shot forwards, destroying Thumbs’ head completely and shattering the glass behind. Water spilled out into the office, along with fish and various tank ornaments (divers, castles, treasure chests, the usual bullshit). The beast stood firm, but Red and El Oscuro were knocked from their feet by the surging water. One thought ran through Red’s mind:

  There are people drinking piss out there and dying of thirst, and he’s got (had) his own personal SeaWorld™ (other aquatic-based theme parks are available).

  After slamming into a filing-cabinet – W-Z, according to its label – Red clambered to her feet and splashed around on the spot for a few seconds until she regained her bearings.

  The monster (she had no other word for it) was advancing on El Oscuro, who was doing an extremely good impression of a pleading, sobbing bandit. It was pitiful, really, but enough of Los Pendejos had died already that day. It was time to put an end to this thing before it claimed two more.

  She whistled, and it was a very manly whistle, as if she had, at some point or other, spent time on a construction site. “Oi! Shit-breath!”

  The creature’s head snapped in her direction, its milk-white eyes boring into her. She could almost feel the hatred, which was fine, because she wasn’t going to be sending it a Christmas card, either.

  El Oscuro relaxed a little against the wall. The thing was no longer interested in him.

  It wanted Red. The woman with the sword and the builder’s whistle.

  “That’s right,” Red said, satisfied that she had its full attention. What she was going to do next, well, that was anyone’s guess, but she imagined it would involve lots of running and hoping for the best.

  The creature leapt for her, its hulking mass bulging and contorting as it flew through the air like an obese superhero. Red, not fancying the look of it, dodged to the right and almost slipped on a floundering hatchetfish. There were fish all around, all thrashing and flailing as the life drained from their bodies. The bastard beast’s deathcount was now three bandits, twenty-two tetras, four angelfish, a dozen gobies, the hatchetfish she’d almost slipped on, and a dozen others that no doubt had silly names, like Blackwater Turdfish, and Hamster-brained Pencilfish.

  Red took a few steps back as the creature took a few forwards. It was a silly game, really, but them’s the rules.

  “You killed Thumbs!” she gasped. “And Blink, and Samuel!” She didn’t know why she was telling it all this, for it already knew. It had been there when the killing took place. “I will avenge my friends,” she said, with newfound vigour. “I will send you back to whatever hell spawned you!” And with that, she leapt into the air, the sword raised high, her hopes even higher.

  The monster that had once been a well-dressed and not unsightly mayor did the same. If this were a film, they would have been moving in slow-motion, slipping through the air with a certain grace, almost balletic. The camera would be panning around, capturing them from every available angle. Even the floundering fish would have been moving in slo-mo; if you looked really closely, you could see one of them mouthing the words: Is anyone going to even try to save us?

  However, this was no Hollywood blockbuster. This was real life, and in real life, things are a lot uglier than any movie, which was why the creature’s jowls were flapping, why drool was trailing behind it as it swam through the air like a mongoloid walrus, why Red’s hair was painted to her face, covering her eyes, instead of flapping about her like in some pre-apocalytic shampoo commercial. Why her sword was a damn sight heavier than it should have been and, subsequently, pointed at anything but the approaching monster. If this were a movie, it was safe to say that it would have been a box-office flop.

  But then, as if some affluent producer had decided to throw some money at it – “Hey, if it worked for Transformers…” – Red’s hair parted enough for her to see through, and she found the strength to raise the sword. What she couldn’t figure out, though, was why everything was still moving in slow-motion.

  “Stab it in the fucking eye!” El Oscuro called from the edge of the room, where he was cowering behind a leather swivel-chair, wielding a catfish as if it were loaded.

  But Red didn’t hear him. She was focused. Wholly intent on getting this right. She had been in the air now for, whew, almost thirty seconds, which must have been a record, even by the Wachowski’s standards. Then…

  They were engaged.

  The creature’s tail whipped through the air, knocking Red slightly off-balance, but she had been prepared for it and brought the sword up at just the right moment, slicing a stripe through the beast’s trailing appendage. It let out a shrill scream as it landed on the opposite side of the room.

  Red landed, too, albeit with a lot less grace and a lot more fish and water. She fought her way to her feet and growled at the creature, which was evolving again. Its flesh squirmed, its bones cracked, its tail disappeared and was replaced by a piece of…

  “Holy shit!” El Oscuro said, his eyes wide enough to be seventy percent outside his face. “Red, get out of there!”

  She saw the sparking cable protruding from the beast’s arse. “How is that even possible?” she gasped, but it was not the time for questions. It was the time for avoiding electrocution.

  The cable slammed into the water just as Red dove out of it. A burning smell filled the room as the beast’s new tail fizzled and sparked, and the water coating the office floor began to boil.

  El Oscuro, leader of Los Pendejos, shook violently as the power surged through him, blackened his flesh, singed his hairs, and did absolutely nothing good for his complexion. There was a certain irony to his death – he’d come here to offer Kellerman electricity, not the other way around – that was not lost on him, even though his tongue had melted, and he could feel his own innards poaching.

  Red landed on Kellerman’s crowded desk, knocking papers and various writing implements to the floor. A squirming angelfish was the unfortunate recipient of an eyeful of paperclips, but that was the least of Red’s concerns.

  In the corner of the room, El Oscuro exploded as if someone had told him that fifteen sticks of lit dynamite in the arsehole was a great way to lose a few pounds. Body parts rained down around the office, and several dying fish vomited partly-digested flakes all over their own fins.

  “No!” Red screamed. “Nooooooooo!”

&nbs
p; The beast’s cable-tail came around in a wide arc, still fizzing and crackling. As the only light in the room, it was almost psychedelic. But Red wasn’t as entranced as the creature had hoped, and dropped down onto her haunches, the samurai sword shining and flashing in her hands.

  The sole survivor of Los Pendejos launched herself into the air, knowing that it would be the final time; that any error in judgement would see her join the rest of her crew in Bandit Hell, where everyone had those pockets that were stitched shut at the top, and every purse and wallet was filled with polystyrene peanuts.

  “Miiiiiiiilllllllk!” the beast roared, aiming its sparking tail at the airborne woman, but she slipped past it – just – and brought the blade down on the back of the monster’s neck.

  There was an audible squelch – yes, this Hollywood producer had had the sense to employ a decent foley artist – as the creature’s head was severed from its thick neck. Though not entirely.

  Red landed in the water next to the beast’s right hoof, and wasted no time in putting as much distance between herself and the screeching monster as possible. Across the room there was an alcove, slightly raised up, filled with clean suits. Kellerman was nothing if not professional. She thumped into the recess, yanking trousers and jackets down on top of her.

  She was out of the water.

  And not a moment too soon as…

  The beast roared and, losing control of itself, slammed its tail into the water. There was a loud bang and then the smell of burnt crumpets and singed flesh filled the room. Red watched through a pair of suspenders as the giant beast thrashed and fried. Sparks leapt up into the air and came down, landing on the glistening surface of the office floor like glow-worms.

  Affording herself a smile, Red took a deep breath. The creature’s head – attached by only sinew – fell from its neck and landed in the boiling water with a splash. After that, the rest of it quickly followed, for heads are relatively important when it comes to survival – unless you’re a chicken, in which case, run free, you headless bastard!