Horror, Humor, and Heroes
by
Jim Bernheimer
Copyright © 2009 by Jim Bernheimer
Cover design by Shannon Farrell
Book design by Jim Bernheimer and Ted Vinzani
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Visit my website at www.JimBernheimer.com
Printed in the United States of America by CreateSpace
First Printing: February 2009
ISBN 144145652X
EAN-13 9781441456526
Dedication and Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I’d like to thank my wife and daughters for putting up with all my foolishness. Kim is an extremely patient woman and for that, I’m eternally grateful. Laura and Marissa are a pair of wonderful girls and a portion of the proceeds from this work will be used to spoil them rotten. Special thanks to my sister-in-law, Shannon Farrell for the cover art.
This list of people needing thanks is headed up by Ted and Pam Vinzani and all their invaluable advice, the dynamic editing duo of Matthew and Lindsey Schocke, and the steadfast wisdom of John Cornell. Also needing a mention is Chris Morton, Mike Skoglund, Mike Fairbanks, Lynda Sappington, Cheryl, Anne Walsh, Beth Hartung, Keith and Dorothy McComb, Tim Joy, and the many members of Alpha Fight Club (Sean Melton, Brian Albright, Steven Avery, Dave Smith, Dave Bagini, Ivan, Moses, Charlie, Carson, Dave Waicukauski, Rob Yurkowski, Chris Gibson, Colin, SomeGuyFawkes, and all the rest). Brendan MaClear and H.A. Senidal also provided some quality editing services. I also wish to thank Ryan A. Span for his assistance. Thanks also to the crowd at DLP, Keira, Wim, Holly, and David Hale. (I sure know a lot of people named Dave!)
The members of The Pit writing group at Permuted Press must be applauded for their incredible critiques. They are a talented and twisted group of individuals. I count myself lucky to be among them. Special thanks to Thom, Zak, Matthew, Bobbie, Jim, Raoul, Victorya, John H., and John O.
Last, but not least, to all my fans, thank you for your encouragement.
The stories Reality Bites! and Cookie? both first appeared on the audiocasting site Drabblecast. Kudos to Norm Sherman and his staff for the hard work they put into their site. The Rally was first released on the website www.fanficauthors.net. Kudos to Tim Joy for all his effort there.
In Confessions of a “D-List” Supervillain, the real-life singer Biz Markie and his song Just a Friend are mentioned several times along with Tommy Tutone's 8675309 Jenny. Likewise, this is true for several Simon and Garfunkel titles mentioned in The View from My Room. Obviously, one cannot write a story about a superhero or supervillain in a powered suit without acknowledging Marvel Comics for their creation of Iron Man and Robert Heinlein for his groundbreaking novel Starship Troopers. Oppenheimer's famous "I am become Shiva…" quote is used in Lieutenant Armchair.
Adventurer’s Beware! is a parody of all the Role Playing Games from Dungeons and Dragons on. No infringement on any trademarks is intended.
Table of Contents
The Wolf’s Cry
Raw and Real
My Son – The Monster
The Red Badge of Doom
Charlie Horse
The Rally
Reality Bites!
Cookie?
Adventurers Beware!
A Matter of Perspective
The View from My Room
Lieutenant Armchair
Confessions of a “D-List” Supervillain
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Battle Maidens: Novel Preview
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
The Wolf’s Cry
by Jim Bernheimer
Nal was a lean, fast, brown hunter. Air laden with the heady smell of pine filled his lungs. His four paws padded through the light snow. He enjoyed the soft crunching created by his journey through the forest. The Great Spirit decreed that the pack would be the guardians of the forest and that the other beasts that lived there would provide them sustenance and sport. It was the law of the forest and a sacred trust the pack took very seriously – at least most of them.
Smaller animals skittered away from Nal. Squirrels scampered up into the trees. Nal glared at the white rabbit, which hoped its natural colorings would spare it.
“I see you.” Nal laughed as the morsel bolted for its burrow. He was craving a great feast – one that he could boast about among his brethren and not just something to quell the rumblings of a hungry stomach.
One of the females, Teya, told of a group of deer she saw two days ago while searching for a lost youngling. A buck with large antlers would be a worthy foe for Nal and his anticipation grew. This could be a chase that would cover great distances. Eventually, his meal would tire and fight. Nal wanted to return to the pack dragging his trophy with its blood matting his fur.
Some of the older members accused him of being foolish and vain. Nal scoffed at them and paid little heed to their meaningless advice. He always answered, “If you have no pride in what you are and no joy in what you do, then your life must be empty and without meaning. I pity you.”
A familiar scent wafted in the air and Nal smiled. It was not the telltale signs of a deer, but that of the hated rivals. There was a bear near! For a member of the pack, there was no greater sport than baiting a bear. Nal accelerated, wanting to dance around the large and clumsy creature, reminding it how the Spirit had chosen the wolves to be the guardians, rather than trust the protection of this forest to something so fat and lazy.
He felt extraordinarily lucky. Never in his three seasons had he encountered a bear this late in the year. Doubtless it would be tired and surly, which would only make the taunting that much more entertaining.
He searched for his quarry, already preparing his jeers, but Nal recognized another smell that gave him pause. It was the sickly sweet smell of blood. The bear was wounded. There were few creatures in the forest that could injure one. Had the others gone to kill a bear and not invited him? Nal’s humor darkened with rage. If that was the case, Nal would most certainly let the others know his anger.
#
A short distance from where Nal first caught wind of the bear, he found the tracks. They were most unusual and this put Nal ill at ease. This was something he had not seen before. A wide swath of snow was pushed aside, as if the clumsy bear had rolled down a hill and decided to crawl on its stomach rather than walk. The only problem with that was there was no hill near and Nal knew of nothing large enough to drag a grown bear.
As he pondered this development and followed these mysterious tracks in the ground, he heard several loud noises. They were sharp cracks that reminded Nal of the sound of trees falling or when the Great Spirit sent rain and thunder to remind all who dwell in the forest of its power.
Despite what others may think, Nal was no fool. There were too many bad omens to ignore. Something was clearly wrong, and a tremor of fear clawed at him. Whatever this was, Nal had never heard any of the other guardians speak of it. Beneath his fur, his heart beat quicker and his senses sharpened as curiosity conquered fear.
He sped off, following these strange tracks as fast as he could. A consuming need to know what was happening gripped him. The wolf was so intensely focused on this goal that he nearly collided with a fawn stumbling towards him. The youngling tried to turn to flee from Nal, but collapsed. Like a newborn, it attempted to rise, but fell again. Only then did Nal see the fleshy wound on the young deer’s underbelly. Instinctively, he wanted to pounce, but his duty required that he question the creature.
“What has happened? Did you fight with the bear?”
“There was no bear,” the fawn replied, struggling to look at Nal. “Am I going to die?”
A sense of pity welled up in Nal’s chest. Blood was flowing freely and pooling in the snow next to the doomed creature. “Yes. Still, I must know what did this to you. If it was not the bear, what was it?”
“I do not know, guardian. We were drinking at the stream, near the edge of the forest, and I heard noises. Next, I felt pain and was thrown to the ground. I was so scared and ... I ran.”
“There were no other animals around? What of your parents?”
“They fell, but did not get up. The others with us ... they ... they...”
The young deer stopped and Nal recognized the signs of death taking the unfortunate soul.
There was nothing else to learn here. Nal decided to feed quickly – his “great feast” was instead a creature killed by some foreign means. Whatever was happening required his full attention and hunger would only distract him. He sniffed the wound, but it smelled strange, wrong – yet another mystery to ponder. Uncertain, he avoided that area and took his meal from elsewhere on the carcass.
Sated, Nal followed the stream to where the forest ended. There was much blood and strange tracks the likes of which Nal had never seen before. The tracks led out of the forest and combined with more tracks that were foreign to him.
The bodies were gone. This confused Nal more. He paced the area several times and growled to the Spirit for answers and guidance.
“I doubt you will get your answers that way,” said a raven from a tree branch nearby.
Nal, like the rest of his kind, did not care for flyers. They uttered nonsense about the world outside the forest. The pack had enough work fulfilling their mandate of protecting those that live in the forest, without suffering the idiocy of those passing by. “What do you know, avian? Tell me! I command you!”
The raven responded by cackling. “I am no servant of yours, four-legs. I am the rider of the winds and you are both literally and figuratively beneath me.”
Nal put his front paws on the tree which the bird perched on and growled, flashing his teeth. “You will tell me what you saw, or you will leave this forest.”
With wings beating, the raven shook loose snow off the branch, sending it down on Nal. “You speak as if you have power over me, but I will humor you, oh flightless one. Heed my warning and beware the coming of man and the beasts that serve it.”
As the raven took flight, Nal yelped after it. “What is man? Come back and tell me! I must know!”
#
“You should know better than to listen to the birds, Nal. They are always speaking gibberish. That is why the Great Spirit took away their front legs and banished them to the sky.”
The others nodded in agreement at Fang’s statement. Fang was Alpha and leader of the pack. All aspired to be like him, Nal included, even though Fang frequently criticized how the younger wolf performed his duties.
Nal protested, his tail swishing in annoyance. “Avian gibberish did not kill several deer and perhaps even a bear. What the raven called ‘man’ did, and it comes from the flatlands outside the forest! The fawn did not even see what attacked it!”
The old gray wolf sighed. “Do you not have enough to do without inventing stories? The flatlands have their own guardians. I could have another cover your patrols and you could go visit the coyotes and ask them about these phantoms.”
“Come see the tracks, if you don’t believe me!”
Dur, the swiftest, didn’t even bother to hide the contempt in his reply. “Even if I were to run at my best speed I would not get there before the rains come, or did the bird steal your sense of smell as well.” He looked at the others. “Maybe we should send Nal to visit the mountain lions to the west to ask what they see from the rocks above.”
Several howled with laughter at the idea, but Dur wasn’t finished yet. He turned to the shadowed area by a large tree. “Teya, you were in that area last, did you witness these creatures? Are we in danger from foes we cannot see?”
The she-wolf on the edge of the circle behind Dur shook her muzzle. “No, but I also did not find the missing cub that wandered off. Perhaps we should exercise caution.”
Dur turned and sniffed. “You think we should believe this braggart? Are you going into heat already? It’s a little early for that.”
Teya growled. “If you weren’t going to listen to me then why did you bother asking for my opinion?”
Fang cut off all conversation with a low rumbling noise that commanded everyone’s attention. “Enough of this petty bickering! Nal, when you can provide some actual proof of this creature, we will consider it. Until such time, I do not wish to hear of it again. Not from you or anyone!” His gaze moved around the circle daring any of the guardians to defy him. None did.
As the rest started drifting away, Nal moved closer to Teya. “Thank you for not following Dur’s lead.”
Teya scoffed, “The only one more full of himself amongst us than you is Dur. I advocate caution because it is what is best for the pack, not because I believe in your farfetched tales.”
“You don’t have to be such a feline,” Nal snapped back.
Teya bared her fangs at the comparison. “Get it right, I am as the Great Spirit made me – a bitch. And I suggest you go, before I show you exactly how much of one I can be.”
With nothing else to say, Nal turned and trotted away. He knew he would have to find proof that man existed or else be considered a foolish weakling among his peers. Many headed off to the clearing to chant to the white disk in the sky and seek the blessings of the Spirit who dwelt there. Nal did not join them. The Spirit did not help the bear and the deer. A sinking feeling, colder than the winter winds, passed through him. Perhaps the Spirit is testing the pack, or this man was beyond the Spirit’s power.
Sleep did not come easily for Nal that night.
#
He did not dally and waste time. Most would consider this unusual. Nal made his fastest passage ever to the southern end of the forest. He would patrol the other areas later, but felt his presence was required here. The squirrels fled upwards as always, but this time he stopped and asked them, “Do you know of this creature called man?”
The frivolous hoarders did not answer his question. When he caught a rabbit, opossum, and raccoon for his food, he would first ask them the same question.
The rabbit answered, “Let me go and I will tell you.”
When he did, the animal bolted, leaving Nal hungry.
The opossum must have thought Nal was trying to trick it into saying something and continued lying limp on the ground. When Nal’s patience ended, he ate it anyway.
On the third night, he cornered an aging raccoon. “I have seen too much in this life, guardian. What I know I will tell you and then I will beg you for a swift release. Man is slow moving, for they walk on their hind legs and are terrifying to behold. With little or no fur of their own, they adorn themselves with the skins of the animals they slay.”
“That is absurd!” Nal growled.
“Why would I lie to you in my final moments? I have seen my kind worn on top of their heads. My mate likely suffered that fate. I’d rather offer myself to you instead.”
Nal tried to understand what this raccoon was saying. It was tempting to dismiss him as a senile forest dweller that’d seen too many seasons, but knowing how the other guardians treated him; he simply acknowledged the lesser beast and urged the male to continue the tale.
“They subjugate other animals to do their bidding and carry sticks which make noise and smoke. Unlike you, guardian, they can kill their prey by simply waving their long sticks at them. They have both dark and light colorings. When I lived in the east, only the dark ones lived. They would throw sticks at others with great force. These red ones were a threat, that much is true, but the light ones are much more dangerous. They do not have to hurl their sticks. Those are the ones you must be most careful to avoid.”
“Do you know if man is of the Spirit?”
“Man makes strange noises that no one understands. I’ve never been close enough to try and speak to one, and since I am almost out of stories about man, I never will. I do not think they are of the Spirit. I think they are the Spirit’s enemies. Death follows their slow pondering movement, wolf, and they grind the balance of the Spirit beneath their misshapen paws.”
Nal made his decision. “Raccoon, will you travel with me and relay this tale to the other guardians? They did not believe me when I spoke of the raven’s warning, but you also walk the sacred ground. Perhaps they will listen to you.”
“If the guardians of this land do not believe each other, what hope would one such as I have? Finish me now, for you will need all the strength I can provide if you face one.”
Nal’s strong jowls crushed the flesh part of its neck and he felt the bone beneath snap. Nal’s blood raced through his veins with the kill, but the exhilaration of the hunt was missing, replaced by a numbing sense of dread.
#
Fang circled Nal. The Alpha was waiting for him a short run before the area where the pack gathers. Nal faithfully relayed the raccoon’s story.
“But do you have any proof!” the old wolf demanded, practically nipping at Nal’s hindquarters.
“I heard the sharp cracks several times in the days following and found more strange tracks. Several trees at the southern tip were reduced to stumps, but the rest of the felled trees were missing. On clear days out in the plains there is smoke drifting to the clouds even though the Spirit has not shaken the sky and burnt the ground with its fury.”
“So, you have nothing! Is this another of your fanciful tales like last season when you chased the great bear into the mountains?” Fang forced Nal into a submissive, cowering position, asserting his dominance as the Alpha.
Nal whimpered. “If I was just making this up, why would I choose this? What can I possibly gain?”
“Mating season starts soon. Perhaps you believe this foolishness will impress the females. Rest assured it does not!” Fang replied. “I will not hear of this tonight when we gather. You will say nothing or suffer my wrath.”
“I will obey. If I am wrong then I wear the fur of a fool, but if I am right our forest is in great danger.”
“You test my patience, whelp! I think I will change things so that you patrol to the north and west. The cooler temperatures should help clear your mind.”
“How can I find proof if you send me in the other direction?”
“I am trying to help you, Nal. There are some that think you are beset by evil spirits. Some wish to cast you out for this talk of man. If you persist in telling this I may be forced to do just that.”
At the gathering Nal did his best to maintain his silence. Dur’s haranguing was merciless and Fang did naught to stop it. Nal knew this was a test. Fang demanded obedience and gave him over to Dur’s tender mercies to drive that point home.
Still, Nal was a young wolf, and of the many gathered in the clearings, he was indeed among the most prideful. He turned his back on the rest of his kin and began to walk out of the clearing.
“Where do you think you are going?” Dur howled.
“I believe this man exists. Were I boasting, I would claim to have killed one or a dozen, but I do not. Cast me out if you will, but if this threat exists to our land then, by the Spirit, I will find proof.”
There was a cacophony of growls and yelps. No one had ever voluntarily exiled themselves from the pack. Fang was greatly insulted by Nal’s defiance. “This gathering is closed to you, Nal. From this moment, you are not of the pack. Where you go, none will follow. No guardian is to speak to this whelp. Be gone!”
Nal ran southbound. His eyes glanced to the home of the Spirit above. Dark clouds obscured it ominously, and he wondered if this meant that the Spirit was afraid of what was to come.
#
“You risk much just by being here, Teya. Stay upwind from me unless you want them to smell me on you.” Nal said resting on his haunches at the edge of the forest. He stared out into the night sky looking for the haze in the distance, but was unable to see it. The older female walked around the stumps looking for the trees that were once attached to them and staring at the indentations in the ground.
“Fang related your wild tales much to the enjoyment of all, but I was disturbed. You may be a braggart, but your stories have never shown this much imagination. Your actions speak of conviction, and these missing trees lend credence to your story.”
“Will you convince the others to come see the wrongness of this place?” Nal asked hopefully.
“No, I think I should wait here and see what comes and takes the trees.”
“That is what I am doing. More are missing than the last time I was here. If this is the work of man, this will likely be the place to find them.”
“Then we shall wait together. At least I will wait. You will go find us food.”
“You want the outcast to bring you meat? Do you not fear being possessed by the spirits that control me?”
She huffed, yowling slightly in annoyance. “Here I was just beginning to enjoy your company, Nal. Look at it this way, if I see man, the pack will believe me. If you see one, no one will. Therefore, I will wait and watch and you shall bring me meat.”
Nal sprinted back into the forest, glad to at least have a hesitant ally. It took him hours of searching, but in dawn’s first light he found a hare. It was a very familiar creature.
“Please! I will tell you about man this time! I have seen them!”
Nal growled. “If you lie, your death will be slow.”
“They come from the barren land and hit the trees with shiny sticks! They come each morning and leave at nightfall taking the trees with them. When they have taken all the trees, where will we go?”
The wolf dropped the slightly bloodied and startled rabbit on the ground. Nal looked at the sky. Carrying the meat would slow him down. Man could already be there.
“Tell me, was their skin dark or light?”
“Light.”
Without another thought, the ex-guardian left the rabbit and ran southward.
He was precious minutes away when he heard the first of several sharp cracks and Teya’s howl. Nal was too late. Man had struck a packmate. He pleaded with the Spirit to lend its strength and he ran faster.
Like the fawn before, Teya’s movements were awkward. Her gait was strange as she favored one of her front legs, and she moved slowly. Running to her side he recognized the eerie wound. He sniffed it to confirm that awful smell. Fortunately, her blood was only oozing. If it stopped, she would live.
Teya was clearly panicking. “They’re monsters. It’s even worse than you spoke of. They wear the skins of others. What are we going to do?”
He growled at her sharply to get her attention. “You must go to the others and warn them that man is real and a threat to our forest.”
“What will you do?”
Nal tilted his head back to the south and called on the Spirit for courage. “I am a guardian. It is my trust to protect this forest. Nothing Fang or Dur can say or do will ever change that.”
“They are not of the Spirit!” she protested. “They will kill you. Come with me and we will tell the pack together.”
The brief thought of doing that crossed Nal’s mind – to see the looks on the faces of those who had mocked him for crying out the warning of man, but the wound on Teya was too real to ignore.
“What if they are not as slow as the raccoon said, Teya? You must escape to deliver the warning. You said it yourself, the pack will not believe me. I will defend our forest and deliver a blow to those not of the Spirit. If I fail, I will join with the Great Spirit and hear your howls at the gatherings.”
Despite the she-wolf’s protests, Nal sprinted towards the south. He did not circle, knowing their sticks could hit him from afar. He would strike and not stalk.
Approaching the area of desecration, he saw man for the first time. It was just as the old raccoon described, right down to the skins of others draped over their bodies. Fear and anger mixed freely in him and in the core of his being he knew that the Spirit would not call these abominations its children. Nal charged the first one swinging a shiny stick against a tree.
The man screamed and made noises that Nal could not understand, confirming man was not of the Spirit. That knowledge strengthened Nal. Rolling with the foul monster, the wolf snapped his jaws breaking through the skins and dousing his enemy with blood.
Nal savored the taste of the spray. Man bled and that meant the pack could fight these creatures.
Others from the man pack came to its rescue, but Nal had struck a mortal injury and hoped it would give the rest of them pause.
He rolled away from the man’s death spasms and saw the rest were pointing their sticks at him. He howled at them and cursed them in the Great Spirit’s name. This close the sharp cracks were a deafening roar.
Pain like Nal had never imagined coursed through his body.
#
Still limping, Teya led the others to the spot in the dark. She held a brief hope that Nal still maintained his vigil despite the roar of the death sticks she heard while retreating. There were many more missing trees and the scent of death and decay was heavy in the air.
“Here!” Dur growled. His tone lacked the normal arrogance and was laden with fear and uncertainty. He circled the remains of a tree that had doubtless stood for many gatherings.
Fang bolted from the group and ran to the spot. “No! It is impossible! Great Spirit protect us!” he howled.
Despite her lingering pain, Teya had to see. She owed that much to Nal. However, nothing prepared her for the sight of Nal’s body. Man had skinned him, desecrating his body and leaving the meat to rot. His eyes were locked in death, but there was no fear in them. The ground carried the smell of blood that was not Nal’s.
Turning to the rest of the guardians she spoke. “Nal the Brave cried man and we did not believe him. Our folly has cost us a noble guardian. He is one with the Great Spirit now, and when we face man again we shall call on his strength and courage as well.”
Raw and Real
by Jim Bernheimer
“This coming Saturday, October 31, 2020, BE THERE! Rogue Sentinel Productions presents the ultimate pay per view event – ‘The Beast Must Die.’ Our top three hunters are back in the maze, each armed with a revolver, six silver bullets, and a silver knife. You’ve watched them stalk some of the most fearsome creatures on the planet, but this time we’ve got something special in store for them. Straight from the jungles of Central America, Carlos ‘El Lobo’ Juarez!
Fifteen years after being bitten by a werewolf at age six, he’s become more than just a monster. Sentenced to death for his brutal crimes, his government has agreed to allow his sentence to be carried out for our pay per view audience!
This Halloween, it will be ‘Blue Moon Madness in the Maze’, ‘Mayhem by Moonlight’ and for $49.95, you can be there too, with an all access pass including interviews with our hunters, a profile of the monster, and start to finish coverage. Only one day left, so order now!”
#
“David, my boy, this is one hell of a marketing coup. The outcry is only adding fuel to the fire. The protesters outside of our headquarters are pure advertising gold! We’ve got death penalty opponents, Amnesty International, hell, we’ve even got PETA out here! Pre-orders are through the roof! You’ve got one massive bonus coming your way.”
David chuckled into his satellite phone, watching the promo streaming across his laptop and running a hand through his sandy blond hair. “Thanks Stan, the ad looks fantastic! I wish I was back there instead of out here in the jungle.” He swatted at an insect on his neck to emphasize the point.
“Well, this is your baby, from start to finish. I’ll be honest, when you first brought it to me, I didn’t think you’d pull it off, but now here we are just over twenty-four hours from broadcast and it’s all because of you.”
He laughed off Stan’s praise, but the president of Rogue Sentinel was right. It hadn’t been easy. More than once there were legal hassles, the likes of which the production company had never seen, even having to fend off the estate of a legendary horror writer – like there was an original idea left anywhere. Still, David persevered because he knew that with enough lawyers and enough money, anything was possible.
“So tell me, how is the talent adjusting?”
“If you’re asking, you already know the answer. How many calls has she given you? Amazon Jane’s been out of her trailer all of fifteen minutes since we’ve been here. That was only to bitch about her trailer being smaller than the ones for The Gunslinger and Gangsta Mike. I still don’t think we should have brought her. She’s not really that good.”
“Yes, but what she does have is fan appeal. She’s got huge knockers and hunts in a leopard skin bikini. Any other stupid questions? Let’s move on, Ted’s almost finished with all the voiceover work, but we need more of the werewolf. Work your magic! Rile him up, get him angry. Go ahead and push his buttons. We’ll paint him as self-loathing and suicidal. Tonight, when he transforms, toss in a live goat, sheep, chickens, or whatever the hell you have down there. I want it to look savage and brutal! Give me a ‘money shot’ of him tearing something to pieces!”
“No problem, boss. I’ve got production team one doing updates, prep work, and interviews with the hunters. Team two is finishing the maze and installing the fixed cameras. They should be done before dinner. I’ll bring them with me to film the furball as he changes.”
“Anything else?”
“Just the usual stuff and nothing I can’t handle. Charlie is complaining about the lack of decent equipment. We’re actually going to shoot some of the initial stuff in black and white for a retro look. I’ve got to go. These things don’t produce themselves!”
David disconnected and checked the last of his email before returning to the aircraft hanger converted into a production camp for more bug repellent. The smell of diesel fumes from the ill-placed and poorly ventilated generators at the entrance greeted him.
Trailers hugged the walls, almost as if they were afraid of the large, ominous, steel cage in the middle of the hanger. Inside that cage, a gaunt-looking young man with ancient eyes and unkempt hair crouched on a bench, which also served as his bed. El Lobo, the star of this production, looked more animal than human. David decided to have props bring in some straw to put in the bottom of the cage. Two soldiers lazily stood watch over Juarez, each with a rifle specially loaded for the occasion. This would have never flown back in the states and even the most jaded of networks were shying away, which was why it would be one of the top pay per view events ever!
“Mr. Juarez, how are you doing?” David asked in fluent Spanish.
The man looked up at him and almost through him with a piercing gaze. “I am about to be put down like an animal for the world’s entertainment. How should I be feeling?”
“Well you know that Rogue Sentinel has promised a considerable sum to both your family and your victim’s fund. They were going to kill you anyway.”
El Lobo spat at David’s feet, “My ‘victim’s fund?’ You mean all the people they say I killed in that village where I went on my rampage? Do you know that it was a stronghold of government opposition? Was I there that night? Perhaps, I do not know what happens when the beast overtakes me. I only know that I awoke the next day in the middle of the wild instead of the cage I went to sleep in. Forty-three is a considerable number of victims for one werewolf to kill in a single night, is it not? The number is even more impressive considering I traveled nearly twenty kilometers and bypassed another village to accomplish this feat.”
David shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not here to retry your case, Mr. Juarez. I’m just producing a show. Your final statement will be broadcast around the world. You’ll have your say.”
“You say that like you actually believe it. You missed your calling, Hale. You should be in front of the camera.”
David gave his best ‘what can I say’ smile and replied, “I’ll have someone come by with your lunch shortly. We’ll get some better clothes for the interview.”
The bitter creature sneered at him, grasping the bars of his cage and leaning closer. “Don’t waste your time. I prefer to remain as I am. The world thinks me an animal. Who am I to contradict them?”
David scratched the stubble on his chin, “Impressive! Make sure you say that when we’re recording.”
With that, he walked away. Part of him felt guilty that a local actor would actually give that final statement, after it was approved by the government censors. He’d mention that line to the copy editor and get it worked into the script, but on some level, David was certain El Lobo already knew it was a sham.
#
When Amazon Jane came bolting towards him from her trailer, he almost wished he was back there with El Lobo. Better still would be Jane stuck back there with the werewolf.
“Hale! I’ve had it up to here with this hellhole. I don’t have to put up with this crap!”
David resisted the urge to roll his eyes and tried to find his happy place. “Janey, honey, you’re the fan favorite. The online polls wanted you here two to one over the next hunter. They’re the ones who want you here. We all know who the real star is, don’t we? Think of how disappointed all your fans would be.”
The red headed woman towered over him and scowled. “Screw the fans! They’re at home in air conditioning and I’m out here getting bit every thirty seconds and sweating my ass off! Do you understand me, little man?”
David smiled at her in a not so pleasant manner. “Fine, we can do it this way. Let me explain it to you in terms you can understand, bitch. Your big action movie took in only half what it cost to make it. You came crawling back to Rogue Sentinel because your agent says it’s your only shot at getting off the ‘B’ list. Hell, who am I kidding? It’s your only shot of getting off the ‘D’ list! I’ve got too much time and money at stake here, so if you walk on this one, guess what? I’ll make sure you come out looking like shit!”
The woman wasn’t used to people ‘giving her the business’ and bristled. “I’ll go to Stan.”
“You’ve already been to Stan. Go ahead, let’s go together. We can even use my Satphone! Breach that contract of yours and I can guarantee that I’ll turn you into a ‘has been’ faster than you can say ‘Britney.’ Unless you want to end up on the topless mud wrestling channel like she did, why don’t you carry those oversized funbags of yours back into your trailer and think about how much of your fifteen minutes you have left!”
Watching the color drain from her face was a rush that felt damn good! Amazon Jane stormed away to trash her trailer, again. He motioned for his insipid assistant producer.
“Thea, send three of your best little ass kissers in there to calm the pampered princess and her agent down.”
“You shouldn’t piss off the talent like that, David.”
“Hey, when it’s your name in the Executive Producer spot, you can run the show the way you see fit and see how far your little two-faced act gets you. Until then keep being the ‘Ass Producer’, do your damn job, and stop dreaming about how you’re going to get me out of the way!”
The rush felt even better that time.
#
Five hours later, David muttered that his bonus better be huge! Between Jane’s temper tantrums, Charlie’s complaints, and the demands from Gangsta Mike’s posse, David was tempted to see if The Gunslinger would be willing to off them all. Of course, that psychopath was just a delusion or two away from looking for the nearest clock tower.
Holly, the audio tech and his current bed warmer, rubbed his shoulders as he grunted, “I went to NYU. I wanted to make documentaries. Where the hell did I go wrong?”
She adjusted his wireless microphone and patted him playfully on his rump. “You sold out, just like the rest of us. Aren’t you just the least bit scared of El Lobo?”
“I’m a bit nervous, but I’ve interviewed my fair share of serial killers, when I was with the networks.” Unbidden, he heard Ted’s voiceovers in his mind about the dangers of a lycanthrope.
“Well don’t take any chances. I don’t like the idea of you going in there.”
“I don’t plan to take any chances, Holly. He will be manacled to a ring on the cage floor and the guards have cattle prods if Mr. Juarez tries anything funny. Plus, I’ve got two assistants whose only job is keeping track of moonrise. I’ll be long gone before that ever happens. Anything we don’t get tonight, we can reshoot tomorrow before the main event.”
“Be careful, David.”
“I will. Now, how’s the audio on the mike?” She rewarded him with a “thumbs up” signal and he started towards the cage.
El Lobo was finishing off his chicken dinner on a cafeteria tray. “I see that it is time for you to get inside my head and discover what it is like to be me.”
David turned to his lead camera operator and drinking buddy, “What’s the word, Charlie?”
“Everything is set up, boss. The bars are going to obscure the shot from most every angle, so I put a stationary camera on a tripod inside the cell and I’ll run it with a remote. Here’s a handcam. Are you sure you really want to go in there with that thing?”
Carlos growled, “That thing can hear you. Before my supposed ‘rampage’ did you find any history of prior attacks? All I ever wanted to be was a humble fisherman like my father.”
“Look at those chains, he can’t hurt me, Charlie. Okay, let’s give the audience something they won’t forget!”
The guards had changed their minds and summoned their captain, David pulled him aside and some currency was exchanged. After that, the captain and the guards dropped their complaints, but the negotiations ate up valuable time.
Finally, El Lobo was shackled and waited disinterestedly on his bench. David entered the cage and sat on a folding chair. It had been a while, since he had used a handheld for anything outside of the bedroom, but he’d manage.
Carlos read his prepared statement, protesting his handling by his government and outlining the suspicious circumstances that surrounded the attack nearly three years ago. It was interesting, but pointless. The government censors were in complete control and their actor was set to deliver a much more vanilla version that focused on El Lobo’s personal shame.
When the werewolf finished his lengthy monologue, David tried to humanize the monster for the audience. It would have to be re-shot with the actor, but he could get the important stuff now and edit it in to the broadcast. The rest would be bonus feature material.
“When did you first realize your life would never be the same? Did you lash out at other children or your parents? If your parents were still alive, what would you say to them?” For a few minutes it was raw and real. It reminded David of the kind of human interest material he’d always liked doing.
He pressed on when the assistant gave the twenty minute warning, deciding it was worth it to get five more minutes of footage. At fifteen minutes, David wrapped it up. He was no fool.
As he stood to leave, El Lobo spoke. “Do you wish to know one thing about me that I have never told anyone? Something I planned on taking to my grave?”
“Go on…”
The werewolf stood, jangling his shackle and stretching his legs. He smiled as David brought the camera around. “I’ve lived with this condition for fifteen years. I hoped to do what no one else could; control myself. Alas, it was not meant to be. The only thing I ever mastered was voluntarily transforming before the moon rises. Allow me to demonstrate.”
His words trailed off into a growl as man became beast. Fangs grew from an elongated mouth and claws sprouted from the bound hands. Amazed by the speed of the transformation, David feebly threw up his arm as the werewolf lunged. The teeth dug into his arm and David screamed. The beast pulled at him as both guards repeatedly stabbed the werewolf with their prods. There was a moment of thrashing and it grudgingly released David’s maimed and broken arm. He crawled on his knees out of the cage and collapsed on the concrete. Someone slammed the door shut and silence hung in the air. Holly grabbed the first aid kit and ran to David’s side, desperately pouring peroxide and alcohol straight into the wound hoping to prevent infection.
The captain regarded him with pity tinged with concern for his role in this. Somehow, David knew the man was already planning how to spin this to his superiors.
“Mr. Hale, I regret this, but we need to place you in quarantine. There is a slim chance that the disease was not transmitted. A helicopter will take you to a hospital in the capital to make certain. This is most unfortunate. You have my deepest sympathy.”
Stunned, David was led away by one of the soldiers past his horrified production staff. Silly thoughts crossed his mind about how he could get this into the broadcast.
The morning after, Carlos had a message for David. “Ask him how it feels when it’s his turn in front of the camera.”
#
Nearly a year later, a mangy, disheveled David Hale peered out the bars of his cage. The hangar hadn’t changed all that much, even if his place in it had.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“Spare me, Thea. Looks like you got your wish. I’m out of the way for good this time. You know this is a sham.”
“Does it really matter? I tried to get Holly to come back for this shoot, but she refused. I was trying for a ‘Beauty and the Beast’ angle.”
“Pretty heartless,” he snapped.
“Just doing what you would do, David, and you know it. I’ll have my idiot associate producer send someone over with lunch. In the meantime, take a look at the promo and see what you think?”
David shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Sure, but do me a favor; put me close to Jane tomorrow night. Maybe I’ve got one last ‘money shot’ left.”
“Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the jungle again, ‘The Beast Must Die Two: El Lobo’s Final Revenge.’ Mark your calendars for September 20th, when Rogue Sentinel Productions starts the hunt all over again. The Gunslinger and Amazon Jane are going back into the maze, this time with Bo Brutalizer, and they plan on avenging Gangsta Mike’s death!
El Lobo is dead, but he left behind an infected David Hale. Escaping from quarantine, the monster went feral, killing two US Congressmen and six others on a fact finding mission. He’ll stop at nothing to kill again, but we’ve got some payback in store! For $69.95 you can have an all access pass to this epic event, so order now!”
My Son – The Monster
by Jim Bernheimer
The tale is one all are familiar with. There is some truth in it. The best lies are like that. However, for the most part, it is both fabrication and falsehood – created as a salve for my tortured conscience and to afford my son a modicum of dignity in his death.
History says that Icarus was a good, dutiful, and somewhat careless son. That is the way I would prefer he be remembered.
“Father,” he said, “I swear it was an accident. Cousin Perdix slipped and fell from the cliff.” I did not see the glee that a rival for my affection was gone.
History and my own foolish desire to protect my child convicted me of this crime and we were exiled to Crete to serve the cruel King Minos.
Was I blind to his heinous deeds, too caught up in my inventions and constructing the Labyrinth? Yes, my denial ran deep as the seas. I possessed an obsessive quality that set my work apart from all others, but it cost me his mother and so I refused to see his insanity. Only my status as the King’s Master Craftsman spared his life on several occasions.
When Minos threatened to lock us in the tower, Icarus responded by wheedling the secret of the Labyrinth from me and bartering it for a chance to lay with Adriane in revenge. Mayhap this is why Theseus abandoned the woman. Again, I was left to claim responsibility for his deeds.
Enraged, Minos followed through with his threat and imprisoned us in the tower. The maidens and the lads of Knossos could carry on with their lives in relative safety.
Like a wild animal tossed in a cage for the first time, Icarus raged, and his madness became tangible. Still, my own guilt refused to recognize the monster masquerading as my son.
I blamed Minos for his condition and decided that if we could but flee Crete, he would return to normal. After all, I was Daedalus and I could fix anything.
“My son, we shall escape. It will be difficult. The King’s men patrol the land and search the vessels going to sea, so I have come up with an idea.”
It was the first hint of sanity I’d seen in days, “How father? How are we to escape?”
“We will take to the air and soar upon the winds. I will make us wings. Not even Minos can control the air!”
“Thank you. I promise I won’t cause trouble again.”
Those words were his mantra. “Causing trouble” was another euphemism for the depraved acts he performed – things I dared not admit Icarus was capable of. It begged the question, who was the better liar – the son or the father?
He gathered the feathers while I worked the wax. We did this in full view of our jailors, allowing them to think we were decorating our gilded cage. Those weeks were a golden time in our relationship as we worked towards a common goal.
Our leisurely walk to the top of the tower turned into a sprint when Icarus yelled taunts to our guards. Hurrying, we donned our wings and leapt from the tower. Flying free into the air, we both figuratively and literally stretched our wings. I was so consumed by my own path I lost track of Icarus. When I turned, I saw the reason Icarus alerted the soldiers.
Icarus swooped above them hurling insults. I watched in horror as he delivered kicks with his thick legs and the men plummeted to their deaths. The laughter of my son was like the shrill cries of the harpies to my ears.
I winged back to him as the last of the men perished. “Why, Icarus? Those men were not cruel in their treatment of us.”
He flapped in triumph and scowled. “They deserved it father! They always deserve it!”
Icarus wanted revenge, but I convinced him that the Minoan archers and spearman would not be dazzled by our wings for long. Eventually, he agreed to fly across the sea to freedom.
My body was light with my wondrous invention, but my heart was heavy. I still hoped that reason could prevail over madness. Speeding across the ocean I called out, “My son, now that we may go anywhere we wish, where would you like to start anew?”
“Start anew? Yes, we could start anew. These wings are your greatest invention ever, father! We can be in Sparta in the evening and Athens by dawn. We shall be untouchable! No one can ever imprison me again.”
Despite the warm day, a chill invaded my soul. I finally recognized Icarus for the monster he was. Winged, he would be a bird of prey on all below. For too long, I had protected him from the cruel world. Alas, it was the world which required protection from him.
“But first Icarus, Minos must pay, shouldn’t he?”
My son’s flew close and thought for the first time that I understood him. “Oh yes father, Minos should suffer a hundred times over.”
“What should we do?” I encouraged him assessing the depths of his insanity. I had to be certain.
Minutes passed and I listened to his plans in lurid, savage detail. My heart beat cold and I cursed myself for sheltering this beast. Some monsters, like the Minotaur, could be easily spotted. Others hid behind innocent smiles, denials, and pleas for forgiveness.
When he finished I said, “That is a good plan, my son. First, we must test the limits of our wings. Fly as high as you can so we may know that the spears and arrows cannot reach us.”
Eagerly, he soared upwards and the feathers began to fall off spiraling downwards, each one represented an innocent victim of his cruelty and my blindness. Do I regret flying my son to his doom? Every day, but I also regret that I did not do it sooner.
The Red Badge of Doom
by Jim Bernheimer
Bitten!
When did it happen? I can’t remember. If it’s going to kill me, I’d really like to know where I went wrong.
Curled up on a smelly cot, my wounded hand clutches a dingy piece of bed sheet with a large red “B” crudely painted on it. The other end is tied around my neck. Hawthorne had his “Scarlet Letter” and Crane gave us the “Red Badge of Courage.” We call this, the “Red Badge of Doom.” I get to wear it like some kind of damn superhero cape!
That zombie bite means I have a one in five chance of living through the next three days. If that wasn’t enough, I get to be on the frontlines until I beat this, or it beats me. They’ll squeeze as much out of me as they can.
At least fighters get full rations, or what passes for full rations now. That beef surprise this morning smelled suspiciously like dog food. Maybe I’ll develop a shiny “coat” too.
I’m gonna make it! I don’t want to die! Even if I don’t have anything to live for, I’m not ready to just give up. This is my mantra and what keeps me going. As long as I can say it in my mind, I’m not dead – I’ve still got a chance.
People stare as they walk by. Everyone will be watching me; ready to cave my skull in at the first sign that I’m turning into one of them. They shake their heads in pity. A few don’t look at me – they’re shamelessly eyeing my cot and my meager possessions.
There’s been a story or two about someone with a badge getting killed “early” just so someone else could take their stuff sooner. Quite a few of us like killing just a little too much. I’ll have to be wary. If someone tries anything, it won’t be for the next day or two. They’ll let me take their patrols and do their fighting first.
Remind me again, who are the “real” monsters? Maybe the zombies are the ones that have it right? Maybe I am just being paranoid, but I’m not the first one wearing this.
I won’t be the last either.
The only solace I can take is that if this happened a week ago, they’d have cut my hand off to try and improve my odds. Word came over the radio that it doesn’t help, so they called off the amputations. It’s hard enough fighting the damn things with two hands!
A familiar face stops in front of my cot. It’s the first friendly look I’ve seen in hours. Rob gestures towards my new fashion accessory. “Sorry to hear about the badge. I’ll say an extra prayer for you. Grab your gear. We’re up for a foraging patrol in fifteen minutes.”
Running my camping hatchet against my crowbar makes a pleasant metallic scraping sound and I follow Rob down the narrow aisle feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. Passing one of the floor fans, the breeze blows my “cape” back. For a brief moment, I can feel like a hero instead of a marked man.
I’m down, but I’m not out.
I’ll beat this.
I have to.
Charlie Horse
by Jim Bernheimer
“Hey, how much longer do I have to blow this damn duck call?”
Sean ignored his partner. Instead, he looked around the rubble and crumbling streets. His eyes searched for the shapes starting to move ominously among the debris.
“Just a few more times, kid. I can see a group over there.”
The first couple emerged from a nearby alley. Flesh hung loosely on their frames. They were definitely low quality – a couple of slowpokes holding up the rest. It was oddly refreshing to know that even the living dead had to put up with traffic jams.
Others pushed by them. Unless they had leg injuries, the fresher ones always moved faster. In the business of zombie catching, faster meant more money. After all, why else would someone risk their neck to do this?
At twenty feet, the greenhorn started to get a bit jittery, “Now?” Sean could hear the pitch in the kid’s voice go up an octave.
“Almost, get them just a little closer. Wait for it, wait for it, now!” Chuck and Sean started running with roughly twenty zombies hot on their heels and shambling after them.
“I’m getting too damn old for this,” Sean grunted. “Trolling around abandoned cities and getting chased for a measly handful of creds.”
“Didn’t take long for you to start bitching, I think Ted owes me a cred.” Chuck laughed, easily keeping pace with him.
Sean tried not to pant when he said, “Piss off!”
“Aw, c’mon! We haven’t even gone a hundred yards yet. You’re slowing down, gramps. There’s still another mile to go to get to the collector. It might be time for you to start thinking about hanging up those sneakers. Not everyone can be a speed demon like me!”
The comments were delivered with a laugh as the pair moved along. Sean glanced back over his shoulder and slowed to a jog. “We’re starting to lose the whole pack. Throttle down there kid … we only want the old and slow ones to fall off the pace. The faster ones are headed to market”