New Wave Detectives 01: Punk Rock Theatre

by Brian McLellan

  ***

  With a deep breath, James pushed open the doors to Hell’s Gate, feeling small and overwhelmed. All he had was a piece of chalk and a pouch of Maggie’s recipe for protection from evil spirits. It wasn’t much.

  The lobby was empty, and there was no one behind the ticket booth. He passed through the curtains into the theatre proper.

  Whump. A light came on the stage, illuminating Alice, the woman with the wooden wings. She stood on the stage, and when she saw him, she threw up her arms and shouted, “You’re here!”

  Her smile was dazzling. He held the pouch of protective herbs tightly in his hand and walked towards the stage. He had the sneaking suspicion that Alice’s creatures were just out of sight, hidden in the shadows.

  Alice came up to the edge of the stage and sat down, looking striking and beautiful. “You picked a very good time to join us, James. A very good time.”

  When he didn’t reply, she tilted her head and cooed, “Don’t be afraid of me, James. Of all the Heedless, I’m the most like you. I love art and I love—“ She gestured to the great empty stage around her. “—I love theatre. I’m a fallen angel who spends her time out among the little people. People like you sustain me, James.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  She winced. His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silence that surrounded them. Quietly she asked, “Do what, child?”

  “Use that name. The Heedless were just something Maggie M made up.”

  She touched her chest, eyes shimmering with pride. “Maggie M was one of the little people who first talked to us. Her storybook Heedless were beautiful and strong, and so are we.” She frowned. “But James, we’re not here to talk about names. You’re here to join my army, and you’re also here to rescue your friends from certain death.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Why, James, they’re on the stage.”

  Another light came on, slashing yellow brightness across Elise and Ian, who stood behind Alice as hostages, held by the two masked creatures.

  “James!” Elise cried.

  Alice smiled. “Don’t let them suffer,” she said. “Just take my hand and it will be over.”

  James shook his head. “What will be over?”

  “Your pathetic life, James. Your nonsense life, searching endlessly for dissatisfying employment. With me, your life will be like a play, romantic and glorious, with only happiness at the end.”

  She stretched out her hand and said, “There will be victory after victory.”

  “You killed Maggie, didn’t you?” he asked.

  “Sorry?”

  “That’s why she’s missing. That’s why they’re all missing.” James gripped the pouch tightly. “Why would I ever help you?”

  Alice seemed to think about that for an instant. Then she looked up and said, “James…”

  A crashing sound. James heard banging and blundering behind him. He shut his eyes tightly and exhaled, hearing Cris and the rest of Call to Arms drag in their equipment. Cris played the role beautifully, bringing the band up to the stage, finding outlets for them, operating the sound equipment.

  Jo would be coming in behind them, clutching Maggie’s old leather-bound book to her chest.

  “Guys!” Elise shouted, but no one seemed to hear her.

  Alice smirked, watching the band work, looking amused. “Is this your cavalry, James? It won’t help you. They can’t see us. I can do that, you know.”

  James kept his eyes shut, hearing the band plug in their equipment, connecting their instruments to the speakers set up around the room.

  “James?” Alice said softly. “I’m waiting for your answer.”

  The sound of the first discordant pitch was music to his ears. As the band laid into a vicious three-chord song, James opened his eyes.

  Alice and her masked creatures had reacted instantly, falling and quivering backwards, hissing and clutching at their ears. The creatures dropped Ian and Elise to the ground, releasing them.

  “This—“ Alice shrieked, but only an animal howl followed.

  James sprang onto the stage, yanking the piece of chalk out of his pocket. He ran around the shrieking woman, drawing a circle on the ground. “Jo!” he shouted.

  Jo had the page open to one of Maggie’s spirit banishment incantations, and she leapt onto the stage, reading from it.

  James had tremendously underestimated how fast Alice could move. Before he could close the circle, she thundered into him, knocking him hard against the ground. All his breath crashed out of his lungs, and pain took over his senses for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Call to Arms playing, oblivious to the events happening on stage.

  Alice had changed. She was coming apart at the seams. Six long spikes had emerged from her back, breaking through the harness and wings. She was lumbering now, wolven. Her braid had burst, hair spilling out over her eyes.

  She leapt onto him, smelling sickly sweet. Her neck opened like a zipper, saliva spilling out from between rows of teeth. Seeing the gaping maw, he couldn’t make a noise; his throat had closed up tight.

  But Elise had taken the hint. She rushed up to her band. Grabbing the mic, she dropped some lead vocals that sent the Alice-thing screaming and rearing upwards.

  James remembered something Maggie had told him about the protective herbs. He grabbed the pouch and forced it into the Alice-thing’s forehead.

  The effect was instantaneous. The lights directly above him burst apart, falling down around him in sparks. A chunk of the ceiling shattered, the light from outside streaming in.

  James felt water on his face. It had started raining outside, the drops falling through the crack in the ceiling. He sat up, looking around the destruction on the stage. The Alice-thing was nowhere in sight. Instead, he saw the band rushing over to him to see if he was okay.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he managed to gasp out. “I’m just a little traumatized.”

  Cris and Jo ran backstage to look for Daniel. James had a feeling Daniel was far away by now. But when they cried that they’d found something, everyone except James ran to the back to see what it was.

  Meanwhile, James looked down at what was left of the protective pouch. The herbs were burnt to ash, curling away.

  He thought, Thanks for teaching me that one, Maggie.

  He felt the shadows congeal behind him, taking form. He knew that this wasn’t Daniel, only an image of him, just a way to communicate.

  James turned to look back. “Nice, Daniel.”

  Daniel’s voice said, “It wasn’t so bad. I had everything under control. You were just supposed to help us out.”

  “You could have asked nicely.”

  “Oh, James, you know you would have never helped us willingly.”

  “Daniel, she was going to carve out their faces.”

  “Good lord, James,” the voice said. “You know I’d never let anything happen. You three are the only family I have left.”

  And with that, the form was gone, vanished into air.

  James went backstage and found the group surrounding the iron maiden. Cris was jumping up and down, shouting, “I found it!”

  ‘Found what?” James asked.

  Cris looked back at him and said, “All Heedless have a chamber where they extract the spirit from a living creature.” Darkly, he added, “Usually they use humans.”

  He and Jo helped to pry the iron maiden open, and he leapt back quickly, not expecting thick, viscous fluid to pour out of the chamber. A young woman fell into Cris’s arms.

  James recognized her from the picture of the six women from the Rosecrest Research Institute website. “Who is that?” he asked.

  “It’s Michelle,” Jo said. “The bitch did snatch her.”

  Cris laid the woman down on the ground. Her eyes fluttered open, pain contorting her expression.

  Slowly, she said, “Cris…” She fixed her gaze on him. “Oh my god…”

  “Michelle,” Cris said, “are you oka
y?”

  “No, listen to me!” she gasped. “Listen!”

  She looked wildly around, her eyes finally coming to rest on James. Quietly, she said, “I know where Natalie is.”

  About the author:

  Brian McLellan is a writer living and working in Toronto, Canada. When he’s not writing fiction, he’s writing for the sports publication BALLnROLL.com, the pop culture blog Mediajunkie.ca and the arts magazine Futu’Reale.

  Follow the author on Twitter at @BrianMcLellan and on Tumblr at newwavedetectives.tumblr.com