The Dagger Men: A Novel of the Clay Shamus

by Michael Panush

  “Go!” Saladin cried. “Stay close and watch your angles!”

  They hurried across the lobby, firing to keep the golems away. Amir and Henry hurried over next, racing through the lobby after Clay, Talia, and Saladin. A garbage golem reared up above Saladin. He fired the last shots from his assault rifle, swung the gun behind him, and pulled his automatic. Every shot from the pistol blasted into the golem, knocking it against the wall and buying them more time. He hurried ahead and reached the door, then motioned for the others to join him.

  Amir and Henry hurried over next, followed by Clay and Talia. The garbage golems sprang at Talia and Clay fired the remaining shots from his combat shotgun into their mass. Garbage splattered across the walls and Talia winced as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Clay hopped out after her, and they reached the curb.

  Their car waited for them—a hulking pearl white Hummer limo with oversized golden rims. Saladin slammed open the front door and got behind the wheel. The Hummer limo’s engine came to life with a lion’s roar. “Get in!” Saladin ordered. “And let’s get out of here!”

  But before they could, a garbage golem spread its malformed wings and leapt over the heads of Clay and Talia. It landed next to Henry, and reached out with a jointed hand ending in a pair of clicking, pointed pincers made from discarded pens and knives. As Clay predicted, the golems must have gotten their missions mixed up. Kidnap Henry and kill Amir fused together, and the garbage golems didn’t know what to do—so they simply tried to destroy everything. The golem lunged for Henry. He tried to scramble away, but the pincer closed on his coat and tugged him back. The golem raised another hand, a fist made from dead fish and rebar, to strike.

  “No!” Amir dove in front of the boy. “You want me, man—don’t you? Don’t hurt the kid, bro. I’m the guy who’s destroying Kosher Kave. I’m the one you’re after.” The garbage golem faced him, and then turned from Henry and attacked. It swung its fist out and Amir closed his eyes to wait for the strike.

  Luckily, Talia reached the golem first. She lunged out, caught the blow, and deflected it with some Krav Maga—then fired her assault rifle at close range, into the golem’s chest. Garbage flew from the wound and the golem collapsed. Amir sprang to his feet, grabbed Henry’s hand, and helped him into the open door. Talia hopped in next, followed by Clay. He slammed the massive door shut as the golems recoiled and prepared to attack again.

  The heavy door closed with a metallic crack. The garbage golem smashed against the tinted window, delivering a blow with a paperweight fist. Cracks appeared in the tinted glass, but the window didn’t break. Saladin slammed on the gas. The Hummer limo zoomed away, honking madly and clearing the street as it sped along. The garbage golem hung on for a few more movements, still smashing the glass—and then got side-swiped by a passing panel truck. Litter flew over the street as the Hummer limo rolled down the street and escaped. Saladin turned the corner, and they began the drive to Gangsta Gaddafi.

  Amir leaned back in his seat. “Damn. That was tight!” He pointed to Saladin. “You was like being all military.” He turned to Clay. “And you was rocking that shotty!” He grinned at Talia. “And you were like some kind of Israeli Amazon warrior.”

  “Well, thanks.” Talia smiled, then grew serious. “And thank you very much for protecting Henry. That took a sort of courage that—well, that I didn’t think you had.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Amir,” Henry added.

  “Nah, bro, it was nothing.” Amir reached into a mini-fridge in the corner of the Hummer limo, situated between the pale, elongated benches. He popped the door, grabbed another can of soda, and tossed it to Henry. “I’d never let some kid be hurt by a garbage golem trying to attack me.” He reclined in his seat. “And Henry was brave enough to warn me. That took major guts, and I don’t ever want to see an innocent person like him get hurt. Besides, it gave me a chance for a little heroism.” He paused. “I’ve always kind of wanted to have that and this was an opportunity. YOLO all day, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Well, your energy golems might end up harming innocent people,” Talia explained. “They attacked us earlier, when we were visiting a psychic friend of Mr. Clay’s.”

  “Seriously?” Amir asked. “Damn. Believe me, Talia, I would never want that to happen.”

  “But that’s the price of making so many golems,” Clay explained. “It will always cause trouble.”

  “I hear that.” Amir adjusted his various chains. “First chance I get, I’m shutting all those energy golems down. I’ll think of some other way to defeat this Shmuel Horowitz dude and make Gangsta Gaddafi 2.0 a reality.”

  “Do you have to, Mr. Amir?” Henry asked. “Shmuel reminded me a lot of you—he tried to be angry, but I could tell he was a nice guy who was just trying to protect his family’s restaurant. And Kosher Kave is really good! I don’t even really keep kosher, and I still like going there. Maybe you can, I don’t know, partner up with them instead? Make some kind of cool kosher nightclub, or something.” He had another sip of soda. “This is really good, by the way.”

  Talia took it from Henry’s hand and tossed it in the garbage can in the corner. “One soda’s enough, Henry. We don’t want you to have trouble sleeping—beyond the nightmares you’ll probably get from being pursued by living chunks of garbage.”

  “It’s okay, Talia.” Henry stared forlornly at his soda in the garbage can. “I’ve seen way more terrifying things than garbage monster people before. Mr. Clay’s always there to protect my family and me, and to make sure we’re safe.”

  “I guess I’m learning something new.” Talia smiled at Clay.

  “I guess so,” Clay agreed.

  The Hummer limo slowed as it turned the corner. The partition between the front and back rolled down. “Okay, we’re coming up on Gangsta Gaddafi’s,” Saladin explained. The Hummer limo rolled to a stop on the curb, in front of a rectangular cement building resembling a concrete bunker draped in neon. Amir pushed open the door, and Clay and the others emerged. Saladin stepped out as well, and walked to the bolted, iron doors. He unlocked them and swung them open, then switched on the lights. Clay glanced up the street, but there were no signs of the garbage golems. Hopefully, they had left those pathetic creatures behind. They stepped inside and Saladin carefully closed the doors and locked them behind him.

  Amir walked ahead, clapping his hands, and then darting to switches on the walls to turn on lights. “Check it.” He switched on a bank of lights above the main dance floor, which bordered a small bar, and then a row of tables. Neon camo glowed on the dance floor. Sculptures of camels and turbaned, gun-toting mannequins, all painted camo, rested in the corner. “This is what the new location of Gangsta Gaddafi will be like—only, I’d say with a good fifty percent more swag.” He walked to the DJ’s booth, at the far end of the dance floor. Crossed assault rifles, hopefully props, stood above the booth. Amir’s hands flew over the controls, and he grabbed a pair of records from the racks above the turntables. “Let me give you a demonstration of the fresh beats I’ll be blasting every night at Gangsta Gaddafi.” He started a pounding hip-hop beat, interlaced with sounds of machine gun fire. The music filled the club. Saladin sighed and settled in a chair at the bar. Amir grinned at them. “Well? What’s the verdict?”

  Henry tapped his feet. “It’s pretty catchy, actually.”

  “What about you, Mr. Clay?” Amir asked. “You like my turn on the wheels of steel?”

  “I prefer jazz,” Clay said.

  “Like from the Jazz Age?” Talia asked, with a grin.

  “Hey, I can feel that.” Amir spun around, looking at his records. “Electro Swing—or maybe Swing House? Say, that’d actually be pretty sweet. You could make some kind of speakeasy club, with Electro Swing and Swing House beats blasting while people drink fancy cocktails. Some old timey swag.” He clapped his hands. “Or maybe we could use some
of that music that you Jews have—what’s it called again? Klezmo or something?”

  “Klezmer,” Talia suggested.

  “Yeah. Now that would be cool.” He turned to his bodyguard. “What do you think, Saladin?”

  “It’s your money, Mr. Amir,” Saladin said. “Waste it however you want.” He paused suddenly, and stood up from the table. “Hold on. Can you turn that music down for a second?” He reached into his coat, going for his pistol.

  “You’re gonna make me stop the jams?” Amir asked.

  Then Clay heard it too—a moaning buzz echoing just above the music. “Switch it off,” he ordered. Amir dutifully shut off the music. The high-pitched buzzing continued, echoing out of the large banks of speakers facing the dance floor. Clay moved toward the largest speaker. The hum grew in volume. Clay reached out and tapped the speaker. The hum instantly ended.

  A second later, all the lights on the dance floor flashed on, and music erupted from the speakers—a pounding hip-hop beat loud enough to make Henry jump in panic. Colored lights flashed below their feet on the dance floor. The glass on the floor shattered, colored lights blooming out as sparks crackled through the air. Clay and the others hurried back, moving closer to the bar. The speakers erupted as well, blasting fabric and emitting powerful whines of static as they fell back. Electric limbs burst through the ground and pushed out of the speakers. Glowing torsos and lumpy, flashing heads composed of woven strands of lightning emerged next. Dozens of the electric golems seeped their way out of the speakers and the dance floor. They stood in shimmering ranks, electricity coursing between them. Then they advanced on Clay and the others.

  “What’s happening, bro?” Amir asked. “These energy golems are supposed to ride for me!”

  “Too many commands for too many poorly-made, amateur golems,” Clay explained. He fired his shotgun into the mass of golems. The blast ripped through several of the electric shapes. Sparks flew from their wounds, but they still advanced. “They’re assembling here because you attracted them, and they’re filling with rage and bloodlust for their final assignment.”

  “They’re going to attack the Kosher Kave,” Talia said.

  “What?” Amir asked. “Hell naw! I never asked them to attack the Kosher Kave. I just wanted them to beat up those garbage golem scrubs causing me problems.” He stared at his hands. “I guess they misinterpreted my commands.”

  Henry gasped. “Oh no. There will be tons of people there. We have to warn them, and make sure they evacuate.”

  Saladin nodded. “Sounds like a plan. We get back to the limo and ride down to Haven Street.” He turned to Clay. “In the mean time, you got any way to put an end to these golems?” His pistol flashed after his words, shooting an energy golem as it crept closer.

  “Aim for the head,” Clay explained. “Now let’s go.”

  They ran for the far doors, charging rapidly away from the dance floor. Pulsing hip-hop music still blasted from the speakers placed throughout the club, and colored lights moved and shifted. The mannequins and camel statues lit up, flashing with light and going dark a second later. Clay pushed aside a fake camel as they hurried to the door. The music, colored lights, and sculptures made him feel like he was running through a funhouse. He grabbed Henry’s hand and hauled the boy along. They neared the door. Amir unlocked it, revealing the cool night air.

  The energy golems raced after them, many lifting off the ground and floating in to attack. They left crackling trails of sparks as they hurtled their way through the air. One reached Talia. It grabbed her arm and she winced and sank down. Clay hurried to help her, but Talia turned her assault rifle in the energy golem’s direction and sent a burst of bullets into its head. That undid the Hebrew writing etched in its forehead, and the golem winked out of existence. Clay helped her up and they scrambled to the door. Saladin fired the last shots of his pistol. Clay spun around and did the same with his shotgun. He fired and worked the pump until the silver shotgun clicked empty, and then he tossed the gun down and swung his fists against the energy golems. They broke against his knuckles, searing his stony hide but not stopping him. He dispatched an energy golem with an upper cut, then elbowed another. Saladin grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back.

  They hurried to the Hummer limo. Saladin got behind the wheel while Amir held the door. Once again, everyone piled inside. The engine roared and the Hummer limo flew down the street. It zoomed along, burning rubber. Clay turned and looked out the back window. The electric golems followed, floating through the air like chunks of suspended lightning. They were headed to the Kosher Kave. Hopefully, the Hummer limo could get there first.

  The limo zoomed down the road, cutting through side streets to avoid traffic and make it to Haven Street as quickly as possible. Talia set the assault rifle on her lap. She was the only one who had conserved her ammo, and still had bullets for the gun. Henry sat next to her, his face pale and frightened. Talia gave him a quick pat on the shoulder and a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, Henry. We’ll figure it out. We’ll protect the Kosher Kave.”

  “I’m sorry.” Amir said the words suddenly. “You gotta believe me—I never knew this would happen. I just wanted to stop some garbage golems.”

  “Well, this is what happens,” Clay said. “You’ve got two sides playing with supernatural forces that they don’t understand and they can’t control—it’s obviously going to lead to unintended consequences.” He stared at his thick hands. “Maybe I’m one of those unintended consequences. But no matter what happens, it’s always innocents who pay the price.”

  “Speaking of those consequences.” Saladin rolled down the partition between the driver’s seat and the rest of the Hummer limo. “You said that aiming for the head was the best bet with these things. Is that so, Mr. Clay?”

  Henry nodded. “Well, they’re golems, Mr. Saladin—and that’s how you stop a golem. You see, they all have the word ‘Truth’ etched somewhere on their foreheads. I guess it’s written in electricity somehow, in the case of the energy golems. But if that name is obliterated, the golem is destroyed. It will just fall apart.” His face reddened as everyone stared at him. He reminded Clay a great deal of his grandfather, with his shy knowledge. “So, yes. Aim for the head.”

  “You know a lot about golems, little man,” Amir said.

  “It runs in the family,” Talia explained, giving Clay a sly grin.

  They sped down the dark streets, hurrying back to Haven Street. Night had fallen on the city. Clay could only hope that it wouldn’t be too late for the Kosher Kave.

  ~~~

  They arrived at the Kosher Kave after a few minutes of frenzied driving. As Clay feared, the place was packed. It lay on the corner, a bright banana-yellow structure with an oversized plaster burger on the roof. The Hummer limo careened onto the curb and came to a halt. Clay and the others hurried outside. They scrambled across the pavement, Talia tucking her assault rifle into her coat so she didn’t frighten anyone. Clay reached the door first, followed by Henry. They stepped inside. Almost every round table in the Kosher Kave was occupied. Teenagers sat together and texted over baskets of fries. Large Orthodox families minded their children while they dined. Tourists snapped pictures of the menu and their meals while workers sporting yarmulkes assembled burgers behind the counter. One of those workers spotted Henry and hurried out from behind the counter.

  He ran over to them, slipping off his apron. “Henry. Look, I can understand why you ran away—and I’m so sorry. I had no idea that those garbage golems would kidnap you.” He was about the same age as Talia, though still had the awkwardness of youth. Like all Orthodox Jews, he wore sidelocks which drooped down beside his cheeks.

  “You must be Shmuel Horowitz,” Amir said. “The punk-ass sending garbage golems everywhere.”

  “And you’re Alex Amir—the son of a wealthy oil baron who is going to ruin Haven Street by m
aking some tasteless memorial to thugs and gangsters.” Shmuel glared at him, and then turned to Henry. “Has he kidnapped you? Are you in some kind of danger, Henry? I can maybe summon another golem, who will—”

  “Shut up.” Talia glared at Amir and Horowitz. “Both of you.” She pointed to Amir. “He’s right about Gangsta Gaddafi being tasteless.” She turned on Horowitz. “But your idea of sending garbage golems everywhere is even worse. You can’t control them, and it made Amir build his own golems out of electricity—which he can’t control—and now all of Haven Street is gonna pay the price because of your stupid supernatural arms race.” She caught her breath. “Now, here’s what needs to happen. Shmuel, you gotta get all the customers to the back of the restaurant. Henry, Mr. Amir—you can help. Mr. Clay, and Saladin, and I will head outside and see if we can take out all the golems who will be soon be showing up here.”

  Horowitz stared at her. “Golems are coming here?”

  “They’re getting their orders mixed up,” Clay explained. “It’s what happens when amateurs try to create such complex supernatural creatures.” He pointed to Talia. “You better listen to her. We don’t have much time.”

  “Okay.” Horowitz turned around. He raised his voice. “Um, excuse me? We’ve got a bit of a problem. There’s been a—um—a gas leak, outside. So if everyone can just take their food and move to the back?” He grinned at the customers. “We’ll throw in a free basket of kosher hot wings for your trouble.” He hurried over to help them, followed by Amir and Henry. Then the lights in the Kosher Kave flickered. Clay nodded to the door. The golems had arrived.

  Clay stepped outside, joined by Saladin and Talia. They stood together on the Kosher Kave’s porch, looking at the street. Both varieties of golem emerged from the street and the alleys. The garbage golems showed up first, slipping out of an alley and congregating together in a festering horde. The electric golems came down the street, floating along like kites carried by the wind. They floated down and landed on the street, next to the garbage golems. The two types of golems stood together, the glowing from the electricity casting strange, dancing shadows over the misshapen forms of the garbage creations. They stared ahead at the Kosher Kave, as if waiting for some signal.