Asskickers of the Fantastic

by Jim Stenstrum

  Rex returned to the door, and pushed on it for hours. The atoms were more closely packed in the door, and it was much harder to push through. After six hours, his arms had passed through the steel up to his elbows. After a day, he was completely inside the metal door. But he was still alive, and he could think. He kept pushing. By the second day his fingertips could feel the cold dampness of the room outside the vault. He thought he might be smiling, but had no way of knowing. He and the vault door had become a single entity, and only by clinging tenaciously to his thoughts was he certain that he was anything other than the vault door.

  Five hours later, Rex had pushed his face through the outside of the vault. The outer chamber was large and dark, but he could see everything perfectly. He pushed harder, and after two more hours his arms were free, which he used to apply leverage against the outside of the metal door. After seven more hours, Rex had passed completely through the vault door and he fell exhausted onto the floor of the outer chamber. He lay there for several minutes, trying to regain his strength. After a while, he stood and looked around. He was still a prisoner, but now only a thick stone wall and an iron door stood between him and freedom.

  Rex stood at the iron door of the outer chamber and prepared himself for another strenuous contest with solid matter. But this time, he pushed through effortlessly. The door had become little more than a concept to him, a two-dimensional outline he merely passed through as he stepped into his desired reality. Moments later, he was through, standing naked in a deserted hallway, and mad for revenge.

  The rage that possessed Rex Havoc as he walked through the corridors of the castle screamed inside his skull. Nothing – not people, not weapons, not walls – would keep him from Vargos Spiderback.

  Two armed guards saw Rex walking their way, and shot at him with their Uzis, emptying their clips. The bullets passed through him without slowing him up for a second. He smashed the first guard in the face, completely caving it in. Before the other guard could react, Rex already had his hands around the man’s head and tore it off his shoulders.

  Rex found a wide marble staircase and headed upstairs. Five more guards came rushing at him on the steps, and five more guards perished. On every floor of the castle, down every corridor, Rex searched for Spiderback. And where he walked, many more people died.

  Room after room, Rex entered silently, passing through walls without effort, and killing everybody who crossed his path. It didn’t matter if they were guards, or visitors, or cleaning staff — they were all infected as far as he was concerned, or under Spiderback’s powerful spell. They were only speed bumps to him now.

  At last Rex came upon two massive doors that obviously led to someplace of great importance. He passed through the doors, and found himself inside an enormous ballroom that housed a sea of coffins. This, he knew, was the resting place for all who lived in the castle. Here he would find Vargos Spiderback and the vermin that served him.

  And here, in this room, he would also find his friends.

  The ballroom was dark, and he had no idea what time of day it was. There were huge windows, but the thick velvet drapes acted like blackout curtains. The only light in the room came from tall candlesticks placed about the perimeter. He supposed it must be daylight outside because all the vampires were in their caskets, most with lids on, but some preferring fresh air on their faces as they slept.

  Rex began to walk through the aisles of coffins, ripping off the lids and tossing them aside. He saw villagers, workers, royalty, women and children, all in a weird dream state and completely immobile inside their caskets. Their eyes were wide open and terrified as Rex walked among them, smashing open some of the coffins, sometimes toppling the caskets onto the marble floor. He had inspected dozens of caskets before he came to someone he recognized.

  It was Springer, who looked up from his coffin at Rex in horror. He lay helpless as Rex examined him for bite marks and found three separate sets of them on the boy’s throat and chest. Then Rex turned and smashed a nearby coffin lid to pieces, fashioning a wooden stake from one of the broken planks.

  He placed the crude stake against Springer’s heart, and abruptly the boy’s hands came alive, trying to push the stake away. Rex stopped a moment, his crushing sorrow momentarily paralyzing him. Then he raised the stake and plunged it hard through the boy’s heart. Springer lurched violently, his screams reverberating throughout the ballroom. It alerted the other vampires, who made nervous, frightened noises inside their caskets, but were powerless to escape. Moments later, Springer stopped his flailing and closed his eyes, as if going to sleep.

  Rex found Bruno lying in a coffin nearby. Her eyes looked panicked and fearful as he checked her for bite marks. She was even worse off than Springer – she had been bitten at least eight times, all on them on arteries. He knew it was hopeless.

  As he fashioned another makeshift stake and placed it against her heart, she grasped the stake and pleaded with him.

  “No, Rex. Please. The baby…”

  He looked at her belly, and nearly gave in to tears, for he could see that Bruno’s pregnancy was nearly to term. He was heartsick, and he tore his brain apart searching for another solution, anything but what he was about to do – what he had to do.

  Then he thought of the monster growing inside her. His rage boiled over and he thrust the stake through her heart. She shrieked and thrashed about, tearing the batting off the inside of the casket and spitting up blood. Moments later, her spasms ended and she too seemed to go to sleep, a look of blissful peace gracing her face.

  Rex waded through the coffins, tearing off more of the lids. At last he found the casket containing Lars. His old friend looked neither frightened nor anxious as Rex inspected him for marks. He looked like a man who had had a stroke, and did not take his eyes off Rex as he turned his head and inspected him for marks. Lars had bites everywhere – mainly on his hands and arms. It was clear the old man had gone down fighting, throwing punches as the vampire brood overcame him like a pack of hyenas.

  As Rex placed a stake against Lars’s heart, the old man reached out and grasped it – but instead of resisting, he guided the point of the stake to a spot slightly higher on his chest, more toward where he knew would be the center of his heart. Lars did not struggle; in fact, he yearned for oblivion. He looked at Rex and nodded almost imperceptibly, giving him unspoken permission. He plunged the stake into Lars’s chest with all his strength, piercing the bottom of the casket. Lars gave out a throaty gasp, gripping Rex by an arm, and then he fell quiet.

  Rex went on a rampage, turning over coffins, smashing others with his fists, furiously pulling some vampires out of their caskets and throwing them against the wall, all in his mad rage to find the final coffin, the one that contained Vargos Spiderback. He grabbed a candlestick in each hand and set fire to the drapes. As the drapes burned away, shafts of sunlight flooded through the immense windows into the ballroom, igniting several of the vampires inside their caskets, who screamed and thrashed about helplessly within their coffins.

  Finally, Rex spotted a large chamber at the far end of the ballroom. He pushed his way through the rows of coffins and walked toward it. As he approached the chamber, three white wolves sprang out of the room and ran past him. They sprinted across the ballroom, leaped onto a coffin and crashed through one of the huge windows.

  Rex ignored them, focusing only on the sarcophagus inside the chamber. Two wooden coffins flanked a huge marble sarcophagus dominating the center of the room. On the lid was carved a massive spider, engraved with an elaborate “S” on the spider’s back. He had a length of sharpened wood in his hand, and placed it down momentarily as he slid open the heavy lid of the sarcophagus.

  The coffin inside the sarcophagus was empty. It was Spiderback’s resting place, that was certain, adorned with a red silk interior and a velvet pillow embroidered with his spider crest, but the demon was not inside.

  Rex turned quickly to the door and gasped. There were three white wolves that escaped
the fire, not two. Spiderback had obviously transformed into a wolf and escaped with the others. And Rex had foolishly let him escape. He roared in frustration, slamming his fist on the edge of the sarcophagus and cracking it.

  By then the ballroom was fully consumed in fire, and the flames had found their way into the chamber, stealing oxygen and igniting the furnishings in the room. He looked down at his legs and saw that he was also on fire and hadn’t realized it.

  Rex walked out of the chamber and into the fire, abandoning for now his quest for Spiderback. He walked through a stone wall, which extinguished the flames burning his legs, and minutes later he was on the grounds outside, walking away from the castle as the fire spread throughout Castle Spiderback, turning the place into an inferno.

  In the huge circular driveway in front of the castle, Rex found a fleet of expensive cars. He chose the Bentley, with Spiderback’s crest emblazoned on the door, and drove away.

  Chapter 18

  “Guess I can forget about prom.”

  At last, Rex was able to regain consciousness. It was dark and he felt like he had the weight of a whole building pressing down on him. He didn’t know if he was trapped somewhere or even buried alive. Rex closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated. Then he rose, passing through the twisted wreckage that was crushing him, and stood up.

  The roof of the elevator car had been sheared off by the porticon, and he could see all the way up the elevator shaft, where a smattering of light outlined the large hole created by the device four floors above him. Not wanting to risk another ambush, Rex decided to bypass the stairs and climb up the elevator shaft to the top floor. The elevator cables were gone, sucked into the void, but there were still girders and trusses he could climb on, and he made his way up.

  * * *

  Dementia awoke to find Crayon sitting on the floor next to her, smiling at her sweetly. But the smile looked many years older – not that of a teenager, but belonging to a woman at least thirty. Dementia raised her wounded arm and saw that it was whole again, complete with fingers and muscles and skin and —

  “What did you do? Omigod, what the hell did you do?” cried Dementia.

  Horrified, she pushed the girl away from her.

  “I saw your arm coming back. I had to let it finish,” said Crayon.

  Dementia awkwardly rose to her feet and looked angrily at the girl.

  “You stupid, stupid kid. I told you to let go.”

  “I thought… it would help.” Crayon was scared now, more worried that Dementia was angry at her than anything else.

  One floor below, Danny and Naomi heard the voices from upstairs. He pointed to the stairway, indicating to Naomi to head up that way while he took the staircase at the other end of the hall, and surround them.

  Back in the top floor apartment, Dementia flexed her now fully restored hand and arm. She looked at Crayon, who was standing in front of a wall mirror, examining herself. The girl had aged twelve years minimum. The baby fat was gone from her cheeks and there were lines on her brow and around her eyes that – although faint – were not there before.

  “Guess I can forget about prom,” said Crayon, putting on a brave smile.

  Dementia put her arm around the girl.

  “Look, Crayon, I’m sorry. You did great. I just hope it’s worth the sacrifice.”

  “Worst part of it is, I didn’t get any taller,” said Crayon, wistfully. “I’m still a Munchkin.”

  Dementia laughed and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

  “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  She slowly opened the door and peered into the hallway. It was very dark but the coast seemed clear. Crayon followed her out of the room and into the corridor.

  They were halfway down the hall, heading for the stairway, when they heard someone coming up the steps. Dementia looked around quickly, and saw one of the apartment doors slightly opened. She put her finger to her lips, signaling Crayon to stay quiet, and pulled the girl with her into the room.

  The apartment was completely empty: four walls and not a stick of furniture to hide behind or use as a weapon. Carefully, quietly, Dementia started pulling the boards off the window, hoping to find a fire escape or a ledge or something that could help them.

  The next instant, the door burst open and Naomi appeared, raising the porticon to fire at Dementia. Instead of ducking, Dementia ran straight at the woman, grabbing her arm and deflecting the shot upward. A hole blasted open in the ceiling, revealing blue sky and a startled pigeon being pulled into the vortex.

  “Run, Crayon! Get out of here!” shouted Dementia, holding Naomi’s arm to keep her from firing the device again. Crayon did as she was told, and bolted from the room.

  In the elevator shaft, Rex had reached the sixth floor when he heard the commotion from the next floor up. He pulled himself up the last few feet and passed through the closed elevator doors.

  Crayon ran down the hallway toward the stairway, but as she took the turn she stumbled and fell down the steps, tumbling right into Danny’s arms. He smiled at her, and noticed that she had aged considerably in the last half hour.

  “Goodness, girl. You’ve really let yourself go,” he said. “Where’s Dementia?”

  Meanwhile, in the empty apartment, Dementia struggled desperately with Naomi. She tried to twist the gadget off Naomi’s arm, but she was every bit as powerful as Dementia. Naomi slammed Dementia against the wall, then grabbed her by the hair and threw her across the room. She hit the floor and looked up to see Naomi drawing a bead on her with the porticon. Dementia knew she could not reach her in time before she fired it.

  Naomi was about to fire the porticon, when two hands suddenly reached through the brick wall behind her, grabbing Naomi and pulling her physically inside the wall. She became stuck in the wall — half in, half out. She was still alive, but as helpless as an insect caught in amber.

  As Dementia got to her feet, Rex passed through the wall and entered the room. He saw immediately that Dementia’s severed arm had been restored.

  “Neat trick. How’d you manage it?” he said.

  Naomi began to make noise as she struggled to get loose of the wall. She strained to reach the stud on the porticon, but her arms were splayed far enough apart when she merged with the wall that she couldn’t reach the control stud with her other hand.

  “Danny! Help me!” she cried out.

  Dementia walked up to Naomi, uncoupling the device from her arm and putting it on her own. Naomi wriggled and twisted and screamed.

  “Danny! They did something to me! Help me!”

  “Where’s the girl?” Rex asked Dementia.

  “She ran out the door. This way.”

  They rushed out of the room and ran down the hallway. But as they approached the stairway, they saw Danny coming up the steps with the girl, his hand around her throat and the Uzi pressed against her face.

  Rex reached inside his coat for his crowbar. Then he got a good look at the girl and was stunned. She was a dozen years older than the last time he saw her.

  “Crayon? How the hell long was I unconscious?” asked Rex, trying very hard to comprehend. He turned and looked at Dementia for help.

  “It’s complicated,” she told him, not keen to get into the details right now. She pointed the porticon at Danny, who squeezed Crayon closer to him.

  “Go ahead, shoot the damn thing. The girl will be dragged into oblivion with me.”

  Danny took a couple steps backward, keeping the pair at a safe distance, and nearly stumbled over one of the withered corpses lying on the floor.

  “No funny stuff, or this will end tragically,” said Danny, twisting the Uzi barrel into the girl’s cheek.

  Rex seemed stymied. He adjusted the grip on his crowbar, alert for the smallest opening. Dementia gestured to him to stay back.

  “Danny! Help me! I’m trapped,” cried Naomi from down the hallway.

  “Baby, are you okay?” Danny called out, not taking his eye off the othe
rs.

  “They did something weird to me, Danny. I’m stuck. Help me!”

  “Just hang on, baby. I’m coming.”

  Danny gave a nod to Dementia, indicating the device on her arm.

  “Okay, real easy-like, give me the gadget,” he said. “Do it now or I swear I’ll paint this ceiling with her brains.”

  Dementia raised her hands to shoulder level, trying to keep the situation calm. She calculated the distance between her and the girl, and then looked at the shriveled corpse on the floor. She lowered her arms slowly.

  “Don’t hurt her, Danny. I’m taking it off.”

  She took a cautious step forward and released the latch on the porticon. As she was about to lay the device on the floor before him, the shriveled corpse on the floor suddenly reached out and grabbed Danny by the ankle. Danny freaked out and blasted the carcass with the Uzi, shooting himself in the foot at the same time and allowing Crayon to tear loose of his grip.

  “Down, Crayon!” shouted Dementia, who quickly snapped the device back on her arm. As Danny spun around to fire the Uzi again, Dementia hit him dead center with the porticon, turning him and the carcass holding his ankle into subatomic fragments, and sucking them into the void.

  But now Crayon was also caught by the vortex, pulling her across the floor toward the dimensional whirlpool. Rex saw this and acted quickly, hurling himself at the girl as she drew very close to the vortex. He fell on top of her and they both disappeared into the floor.

  Seconds later, the vortex evaporated, leaving only an enormous hole in the wall where Danny once stood. Rex and Crayon were also gone. Dementia held her breath, not knowing what to think.

  Then she heard Crayon laughing hysterically from the floor below. Dementia breathed a huge sigh of relief as she saw Rex and Crayon bounding back up the stairway.