Category Archives: fiction

February 11, 2014 · 7:26 am

52 in 52 Story 6 Bloody Mary

Bloody Mary

                “She was a little girl who lived back in the olden days in a big house. Her dad was rich and never around and her step mom was mean and always called her Ugly Mary. It started to make her go crazy! Then one night when she was washing her face she looked at herself in the mirror and saw a freckle. She tried to scrub it off, but it was a freckle, it was part of her face. So then she started to scratch at it and she scratched and scratched and her face started to bleed. Well, she kept scratching, not just at the freckle but at the rest of her face! And she was scratching and scratching and pretty soon she was screaming because her whole face was getting scratched off! Downstairs they heard the bathroom mirror break and Mary’s screams and when they went upstairs to see what happened the mirror was shattered, there was blood everywhere and Mary was gone! Now if you say her name three times in the bathroom mirror Bloody Mary will appear and scratch your face off too!” Billy cackled like a witch as his sister, Sally, screamed.
                “Shut up, Billy!” Sally was really scared. Her big brother always did this to her, especially at night right before bed. “That story isn’t true!”
                “It totally is!” Billy’s eye’s got really wide and his voice got quiet, like he was about to tell a secret. “Freddy’s older sister did it once.”
                “Freddy doesn’t have a sister!”
                “Not anymore!” Billy laughed and laughed and then they heard their Dad coming up to tuck them in.
                “Quiet down you two! Billy quit scaring your sister.” Dad was tall, at least as far as six year old Sally could tell. He had neatly cut brown hair and a sly smile. His glasses made him look smart and Sally liked that she had a smart Dad; she just wished that she also had a smart brother. Billy rolled his eyes and left Sally’s bed and went back into his own room next door, the room closer to the bathroom. Dad whapped Billy lightly on the back of the head as they passed each other in the doorway, “You get into bed, mister, I’ll be there soon,” then he sat next to Sally as she pulled her My Little Pony covers up to her neck. “You know he’s teasing you, right? None of his stories are real.”
                “Billy’s a jerk!” She said it loud enough for him to hear. She was still pretty scared, even with Dad here in her room.
                “I know, I know. It’s ok.” Dad brushed her hair with his hand and tried to calm her down. “Sally eight year old boys have been telling that story to their kid sisters since I was your age, even longer than that. It’s just an old scary story and it isn’t true. Freddy never had a sister of any age.” Sally still didn’t look convinced. “And, the nice thing is, your brother’s bedroom is closer to the bathroom so Bloody Mary would get him first.” Dad tickled her when he said the last bit and that made her laugh. She felt safer and Dad was right, Bloody Mary would have to get Billy first and at least then she’d have time to run away. “Are you going to be OK?” Sally nodded and hugged her doll. Dad kissed her on the forehead and went to the door. “Good night sweetheart.”
                “Good night Daddy.” Dad turned off the light and shut the door about halfway. “Can you leave the hall light on?”
                Dad poked his head back in, “Sure thing honey. I love you.”
                “I love you too.” Dad went in to say good night to Billy and Sally listened to him get in trouble as she closed her eyes and hugged her doll tight. Billy earned getting in trouble; she didn’t want to think about some scary girl who lived in the bathroom mirror! Sally fell asleep hearing the sounds of her Dad’s voice and her brother apologizing.
               
Scratch.
                Sally twitched in her sleep at the sound.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
                She woke up, a little groggy, looking around for the source of the noise. She didn’t see it in her room, but it was dark. The hall light was out.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. There was a muffled voice too, it sounded like whimpering. Sally got scared, but wasn’t sure what to do. She listened and it seemed to stop. She sat up in bed and held her doll very close.
“Billy?” She whispered hoping it was loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough to get the attention of anything scary. There was no response. She tried again, “Billy?” Then she heard the soft whimpering again. Maybe Billy was having a nightmare? Maybe he scared himself? Sally got brave and started to get out of bed. She felt the carpet underneath her feet and pushed the covers off of her body. She stood up and started toward the door. Even though the lights were out she could see due to the light of the moon and street lamps outside of her window. It gave a very pale glow to all of the surfaces in her room and the hall where the door was open. As she got closer to the door she heard the soft whimpering again, it sounded like Billy was crying into his pillow. Then the noise again: Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Sally opened her door enough to get into the hallway. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. She rounded the corner to the door of Billy’s room. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. She saw Billy’s bed and someone leaning over it. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“Mommy?” But it wasn’t her Mom. The figured turned sharp and where there should have been a face there were just bloody strips of flesh, the creature’s hands were crooked into claws that dripped with blood and in the bed Sally saw what was left of her brother’s face and she screamed!
Her Mom and Dad came rushing into her room telling her it was OK, that it was all just a bad dream and she saw her brother yawning and wiping his eyes in the doorway trying to figure out what was wrong.  It was all a terrible nightmare! A terrible, terrible nightmare and it took Sally forever to get calmed down. Her Mom slept with her that night and Dad had a stern talk with her brother about how mean it is to scare his sister. It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare.
The next morning was Saturday and the sun shone brightly into Sally’s window to greet her as she woke up. Mom was gone, but that was OK since it was day time. Sally could hear her downstairs in the kitchen cooking breakfast. The TV was on, it sounded like Billy was watching Power Rangers, and all was right with the world again. Sally got up and put her doll under the covers and tucked her in, she still needed some rest, and then went to the bathroom. Sally walked down the hall, past Billy’s room, turned on the bathroom light and closed the bathroom door behind her. There were no windows in the bathroom, just the light from the bulbs over the sink. She sat to potty and nervously looked over to the bathroom mirror. It looked fine, there were no cracks or strange reflections or scary girls in it. But Sally was scared to look away. As she finished she looked as quickly as she could to keep her eyes on the mirror as much as possible. Then she had to wash her hands. Sally went to the sink and stared herself in the eyes as she reached for the faucet. She stopped, and then she turned around and opened the door. She felt safer with the door open; there was a place to run if the door was open. She turned back to the sink, locking eyes with her reflection and washed her hands. She let out a big breath, dried her hands and turned out the light. She did it! And no scary girl showed up!
Sally walked down stairs and everything was as it should be: the TV was on, it was Power Rangers, Dad was at the table reading the paper and Mom was cooking breakfast. Wait, where was Billy? She walked a little further toward the TV and then Billy jumped out from behind the couch, his hands like claws and wearing a hockey mask! Sally screamed and ran toward Dad.
Both Mom and Dad yelled at him, “Billy!” Sally cried a little as Dad held her and Billy pulled off his mask.
“Billy, what have we told you?” Dad asked with a very disappointed look on his face.
“You go to your room, mister,” Mom was pointing at him with her spatula from the kitchen, “there will be extra chores for you today, young man.”
“Aw, c’mon! I’m sorry, Sally.” That was the worst thing that Mom could have said to him. There were very few things that bothered Billy and “chores” was definitely at the top of the list!
“No, right now, upstairs!” Mom was starting to walk out of the kitchen; Billy took the hint and booked it to his room.
Sally yelled up at him as he ran, “Maybe Bloody Mary will get you!” Her parents shook their heads and went back to a normal Saturday morning. There were pancakes and orange juice and My Little Ponies. Sally and Dad went to the park and played on the playground equipment. She saw her friend Jenny and they played in the sand. When they got home that afternoon it was still nice out so Mom brought her some lemonade while Billy raked leaves in the front yard with a sour expression on his face. Sally laughed because he had leaves in his shaggy brown hair. Mom helped her dress up one of her dolls and got the little plastic shoes on (they were always so hard for Sally to get on by herself). All in all it was a pretty wonderful Saturday.
For dinner they had one of Sally’s favorites, fried chicken. It wasn’t just her favorite; it was Dad and Billy’s too. Mom made really good fried chicken that tasted even better than the kind at the fast food places Dad would take them too when Mom didn’t have time to make hers. It was crispy and juicy and you could dip it in the mashed potatoes and gravy and make a “chicken-pop;” Sally made that up. Billy would always peel the skin off of his chicken and play with it before he ate it.
“Look, Dad, it’s like monster flesh, rawr!” He had a flap of skin stuck to his cheek and was making faces and sticking his tongue out like he was a zombie. Sally started a bit, it reminded her of her nightmare.
“Billy,” Dad took the chicken skin off of his face and started wiping the grease off, “stop playing with your food and eat it.”
“But Dad, I want to be a monster!”
“You are a monster; an eight year old monster who’d better eat.” Dad wiped his fingers and went back to his own food.
“Billy what has gotten into you lately?” Mom asked between bites. Billy didn’t answer he just picked up the chicken skin and shoved it in his mouth with a big smile. Mom and Dad laughed and Sally giggled a little. It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real.
That night they watched a movie, “Finding Nemo” (it was the only one that she and Billy agreed on watching, ever). Then it was time for bed. Both Billy and Sally ran up to their rooms and put on their pajamas. Sally’s were pink and had a big grey silhouette of a cat on the front. Billy’s looked like a red and blue race car jump suit. When she had her p.j’s on and had put her clothes in the hamper she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. The bathroom light was out. The hall light was on, but the bathroom light wasn’t and it was really dark past the door. Sally looked as hard as she could at the inside of the bathroom trying to see if she could make out anything wrong, especially in the mirror. She crept closer, not wanting to move too much just in case there was someone or something in there. Billy raced past her and bumped her! She screamed a little and he looked back.
“Sorry!” Then Billy flipped on the light and water and started brushing his teeth. Well, at least that probably meant it was safe in there. Sally went in and got her toothbrush and started brushing her teeth too. Billy finished, spit, and rushed out. As he was leaving he closed the door behind him and turned out the lights, laughing as he did it.
Sally screamed! She dropped her toothbrush on the floor and started pulling on the door knob and banging on the door, “Let me out! Mom! Dad! Help!” She kept screaming and pounding and started crying. Billy was still laughing. Sally could hear Dad coming up stairs and yelled at Billy to get away from the door.  It opened and Dad turned on the light and picked her up holding her close as she cried.
“What the hell were you thinking, Billy?!” Dad was really mad. He didn’t like to use those words normally. “This is your sister and you are scaring the crap out of her!” Billy started crying too, softly at first, but it got stronger with each breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said through the tears, “I was just joking around.” He started sobbing.
“Well this is where your joking around got us. Get in your room.” Dad walked Sally back to her bedroom and put her on the bed.
“I dropped my tooth brush.” She said through sniffles.
“It’s ok, we’ll get you a new tooth brush and take it out of your brother’s allowance.” Dad sighed, “I don’t know why he’s doing this, but he’ll stop.”
“Promise?” Sally wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“Promise.” Then Dad hugged her tight and Mom came in wearing her robe and sat on Sally’s bed. “I’m going to go have a talk with your brother.” Dad walked out with a stern look on his face.
Mom scooted closer to Sally and hugged her tight singing softly to her and rocking her. That made her feel better. In the room next door she could hear Billy crying and Dad being very angry. It wasn’t clear what Dad said he’d take away, but when he came out of Billy’s room and closed the door he was holding Billy’s Game Boy and a lunchbox full of Hot Wheels cars. She could hear Billy crying in his bed. Mom rocked her and she fell asleep.
The room was dark, pitch black, the kind of dark where you can’t even see your hand in front of your face. There was no noise, it was silent. It was too silent. Sally stood in her pajamas not sure which way to go. “Mom?” she called out. There was a hollow echo, but no answer. “Dad?” again and echo with no answer. “Billy?”
“Billy’s not here.” The voice was wet, wheezing. And came from ahead of her, at least she was pretty sure.
“Who’s there?” Sally called out, her eyes tearing in fear.
“Say my name…” the voice slithered.
Sally squealed in fear, “Who is it?”
“Say. My. Name!” The voice was direct and getting closer.
“I don’t want to! You leave me alone!” Sally started to panic and tried to run but didn’t know which direction to turn.”
“SAY MY NAME!” The voice was screaming now and coming closer, faster! Sally screamed and turned away from the voice and just started running. She ran into someone and fell back on her bottom. She tried to get up but she could hear the footsteps of whomever she ran into approaching. She tried to back up but the face, the horrible face she had seen in her nightmare before all bleeding ribbons of flesh hanging off of a ripped and gouged face with strings of bloody brown hair, came at hers from the dark, “BLOODY MARY!”
Sally screamed and sat straight up in bed! She kept screaming even as the hall light came on and Mom and Dad came rushing in, Mom hugging and rocking her and Dad frustrated and pacing the room. Billy managed to sleep through this one. Sally explained to Mom and Dad what happened in her nightmares. She described the dark and how it was super quiet and the scary voice that she heard. How it said that Billy wasn’t there. Mom and Dad exchanged a look and went back to consoling Sally. Dad slept with her that night.
Sunday morning Sally woke up and heard Billy crying in his room. She got up and grabbed her doll and peaked around the corner, his door was shut. She couldn’t see anything. She went down stairs and went to say hi to her Mom and Dad. Dad was sipping coffee and reading the paper and Mom was cooking eggs.
“Hi sweetie,” Mom said with a smile.
Dad got up from the kitchen table and walked over to her, “Did you sleep better?” He mussed her hair as he asked.
“Yes. Why is Billy crying?”
Dad made a bit of a sad face and kneeled next to her, “your brother is in trouble for giving you nightmares. He knows better and so he has to stay in his room without TV or his video games or the computer. You’ve had nightmares two nights in a row and he’s not supposed to scare you like that.”
Mom chimed in, “He needs to learn that it isn’t funny to scare you like that.”
“OK. I don’t want him to be sad, though.” Mom and Dad looked at each other with faces that showed how they thought her thoughtfulness was adorable and heartfelt.
“He’ll be OK,” Dad put his hand on her shoulder. “Right now I think he’s just upset that he can’t play Pokemon.”
Billy came down for breakfast and Dad kept reminding him that it wasn’t OK to scare his sister. He had chores to do again, which he hated, but by the end of the day he had his Game Boy back and was back to playing Pokemon.
That night when it was time for bed Sally put on her cat pajamas and went right into the bathroom to brush her teeth. As promised Dad got her a new toothbrush (with some of Billy’s allowance) and she started brushing. She looked down to spit and when she looked back up she saw Billy standing behind her! She screamed a little which surprised him and he jumped back a little knocking his head on the door jamb hard enough that he started to cry a little.
He fell to the floor and rubbed his head, “What’d you do that for?”
Sally got mad, “You scared me!”
“Nuh uh, I was just standing there waiting to brush my teeth!” Mom and Dad came up to see what all the ruckus was about.
“What happened?” Mom sounded exasperated.
Sally and Billy both started talking, “He scared me!” “She scared me!” “He was just standing there…” “I wanted to brush my teeth but she screamed and I hit my head…”
“Enough!” Dad was loud and it quieted them both immediately. “This needs to stop. No more scaring, whether on purpose or on accident. Finish getting ready, it’s time for bed.” Sally wiped her mouth and walked back to her room with Mom while Dad waited for Billy to finish brushing his teeth. Mom read her a book and kissed her forehead and turned out the light, leaving the hall light on. Dad put Billy to bed and said good night as he passed her room. She could hear them watching the TV downstairs and she fell asleep knowing they were still awake.
She was in the hallway and the light was dim. It was on, but it was as if the bulb could only make half the amount of light that it was supposed to. Her bedroom door was shut and so was Billy’s. she turned to face the bathroom and saw Billy standing there, stone still, in his pajamas just staring into the dark bathroom.
Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. The sound was coming from the bathroom. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Sally was scared to get any closer but she didn’t know what to do about her brother. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. She crept up behind him, shaking as she moved.
“Billy?” she whispered.
“No Billy.” It was the voice. Sally froze in place and felt all the blood leave her body. “No Billy no more!” Then Billy’s body fell backward, landing face up on the ground. His face was scratched off and when Sally looked up she saw Bloody Mary in the mirror scraping at the glass to get out! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Sally screamed and screamed and the voice cackled and screamed back! The glass of the mirror tore like skin and Bloody Mary crawled out of the mirror her face sticking to the jagged edges of the torn mirror glass, pouring blood over everything, her clawed hands articulating on the faucet handles and her legs operating spider-like as she pulled them though.
Sally tried to pull away but Billy’s lifeless hand grabbed her ankle causing her to fall. Mary jumped from a crouched position on the sink to the door jamb and then to the ceiling in the hall, crawling across it and leaving trailed of blood drooling over everything. She was directly above the screaming Sally and turned her head all the way around to stare at her, “NO MORE BILLY!”
Sally screamed herself awake and she found herself standing next to Billy’s bed where Billy was screaming now too having been woken up by her screams. He had scratches on his face, nothing deep, but they were bleeding a little and there was blood and a little skin in Sally nails. Sally started crying and Billy did too as he pulled his knees up to his chest and got as far away from Sally as he could. Mom and Dad came rushing in turning on the light as they did. They found Sally sobbing with bloody finger tips and Billy crying with wide terrified eyes. Mom gasped and ran to Sally. Dad went to Billy and inspected his face.
“My God, Sally did you do this?” Dad looked scared too. Sally couldn’t stop crying and didn’t answer. Mom just shook her head. Dad ran into the bathroom to grab some cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide. He turned on the light and stopped dead in his tracks. Dad grabbed his mouth and backed out.
Mom asked, “Honey what’s wrong?” Dad didn’t answer. Mom left Sally and walked over to Dad, “What is it?” she looked in the bathroom and gasped. Sally didn’t want to be alone so she ran to her parents. Mom tried to cover Sally’s eyes, but Sally saw it, words scrawled in thin blood on the mirror: “Bloody Mary doesn’t like Billy”.
“Mom!” Billy yelled from his room. They all ran back to him.
Billy never scared his little sister again.
The end.

1 Comment

Filed under 52 in 52, 52 stories in 52 weeks, Bloody Mary, fiction, horror, projects, scary, short story

February 4, 2014 · 12:03 am

52 in 52 Story 5 “A Tale of Sergio Malik”

This week’s story is an old idea that has been sitting in my head for years. I think it requires just a little bit of set-up for context. It takes place in the Warhammer 40,000 universe. Warhammer 40,000 (or 40k for short) a table top war game that I used to actively play. It has a very rich background and has been the setting for dozens and dozens of best selling paperbacks. When I was in my late twenties I played one of the spin-off games, Inquisitor. Unfortunately this game is no longer supported by Games Workshop so I don’t have a link to it specifically. In that game you get to create a variety of characters and the subject of this week’s story was one of those characters, Sergio Malik. He, along with his boss, Inquisitor Guildenstern, and Judge Regina Burgun would race around the galaxy hunting mutants, aliens and demons. It was a really cool, really geeky game. In fact, here’s a picture of them that I took for a campaign we were running:

Regina’s a bit out of focus, but that’s OK, she’s not in this story.

Anyway, this story is written assuming that you are familiar with the universe. For those who aren’t I’ve included THIS LINK to the 40k wiki so you can look up anything you have questions about. For those of you who just want to get to the story know this: it is the far future, the 41st millennium, humanity is on the downslide and fighting wars on every front. Humanity worships it’s greatest leader, the God Emperor who’s body is kept barely alive by a machine called The Golden Throne. Technology is no longer understood and treated like magic. In the grim darkness of the far future there is only war.

A Tale of Sergio Malik

The ferrocrete of the partition began to crumble under the punishment of stubber slugs and laser blasts.  The echo of the impacts rattled Sergio’s head and made him dizzy with a staccato repetition of beats as each shot aspired to find a chink in the wall. Each blast wanted to kill Sergio Malik as much as his attackers wanted him dead.  It was not the first time he had faced death, and it was most certainly not the last time he would either.  It was also not the first time he had fought alone, although he never liked to; its so much better to have someone watching your back, or at least someone – anyone – who could take a bullet in your place.  He had managed to hide himself in this little cubby, a small box of ferrocrete that once must have contained some artifact of the Adeptus Mechanicus that could have maintained this section of the hive or heated water or whatever those things do.  Now it was just a four-foot square of wires and empty tubes three feet above the floor and one foot below it, with a dash of Sergio’s blood for color, and while it was providing his only protection it could just as easily become his final resting place.  They knew where he was; that much was plain, and it was only a matter of time before they figured out that he wasn’t shooting back.  Sergio’s stubber was empty, the three clicks he heard, actually felt more than heard, were evidence of that.  His revolver, Tania the Angle of Salvation, had only three full chambers; each one was loaded with a simple slug, none of them were explosive or ‘smart’ or filled with an acid that might cover the whole of the area.  Nope, just a three simple dum dums.  Dum dum, that’s how he felt now.
            Silence.
            The shooting had stopped.  Footfalls and scuffles along the floor; they were moving!  Maybe they thought he was dead?  More likely they were closing in for the kill.  Kill?  More like slaughter.  Instincts honed by decades of running in low circles kicked back in.  Without the distraction of the swarm of bullets he felt much more like himself.
The footsteps stopped and there was some hesitant shuffling. “He might be dead.”
            Another voice called out, “I didn’t see him go down.”
            The first voice, closer than the others, called back, “I got ‘im I know it!”
            Another voice called, it was coming from Sergio’s left, “You never get ‘em!” Laughter erupted from the men he was fighting. It sounded like four altogether.
            “Quiet!” a voice commanded.  That made five of them left, but only one of them sounded like he knew what he was doing. Still, five was two too many for three bullets.  “Gersh, go look; make sure Tygon really did get ‘im!”  Another burst of laughter. Good they were distracted!  The walls of the cubby suddenly felt cavernous as Sergio prepped to leap up.  This was a gamble, a horrible gamble.  There was no way to guarantee he would get out of here alive, but maybe dying was a lot better than definitely dying.  The quilted flack armor that Sergio wore was now tattered and had a few more holes than he was comfortable with; the plate of ablative armor that he had attached that very morning was now dented and useless.  The blue of his vest was now crimson and purple in some places where he was dripping life, although thankfully that was abating.  Everything was sore, even through his rising adrenalin, and Sergio knew that, if he lived, tomorrow he might be sorry that he had. The metal of the hive’s decking betrayed Gersh’s location as he closed in on Sergio’s cube.  Sloppy, just plain sloppy; it was a wonder that any of these weird cults ever got anything done, ‘course usually all they want to do is raise a menace and try to sew the roots of dissent among the populace, things like that were simple with a gun in your hand.  A gun in his hand, that was actually essential to Sergio’s plan.  Surely they wouldn’t send someone with an empty weapon to investigate?  Actually they might, but he needed to believe that they wouldn’t.  He would use one precious shot as Gersh leaned over the rim.  One shot that would kill him and then he would pull the body, and his weapon, into the cubby so that Sergio could use it.  As Gersh got closer, Sergio got ready and the pain that he had been feeling lifted. 
Gersh got closer and confidence seemed to fill each of his steps.  A shadow, both deadly and hopeful, hesitantly peered over the edge into the cubby. First a beefy arm that ended in a gun barrel, which was then followed by a hooded head that eclipsed the light directly above Sergio’s head.  As Sergio’s eye’s adjusted to the new dimness he could see the moment of realization come over Gersh’s face that Sergio wasn’t dead and then the moment of horror as Gersh saw Tania, the Angel of Salvation, pointed at him.  Time rubber banded as the hammer fell in Tania and a chemical explosion pushed a slug of soft, dense metal forward at super sonic speed.  It spun down the barrel of Tania and escaped in a cloud of heat and residue.  Gersh’s face didn’t even have time to change expression before it was cratered and torn apart.  Sergio reached up with his right hand and grabbed the cultist by the robe under his chin. He gave one sharp tug and the body, complete with rifle, fell into the cubby next to him.  Then the rubber band snapped and things felt almost too fast to handle.
Sergio’s hand wrapped around Gersh’s rifle as the sound of yelling and feet came running at his cubby.  A las gun, Guard issue and with a healthy charge; these dissidents were well equipped for a bunch of cultist scum – maybe the boss was right to check them out.  Sergio grabbed it and clicked it to burst fire with his right hand while his left put Tania back in her holster. This wasn’t how he was supposed to spend his day. This wasn’t even how this investigation was supposed to go. The plan was to integrate into the hive, see what the locals could tell him about the dissidents in the Under Hive, and then report back to the boss whether it was worth further investigation. The las gun in his hands was proof enough that there would need to be a full Inquisitorial investigation. Now he just needed to escape.  
Before this all began, before he was seconds away from dying in a hive city thousands of thousands of light years away from where he started, Sergio Malik was enjoying the benefits that went along with being in the personal entourage of an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus. Of all of the people in the God-Emperor’s galaxy no one was granted more respect or freedom than a member of His Inquisition. They lived in lavish homes with full support staffs of servitors and serfs. Sergio had access to some of the most impressive weaponry in the universe, although he preferred his own guns since they had never let him down. He was given medical care that some worlds in the Imperium hadn’t even imagined, much less had ever seen. And the food, oh the food! He had access to things he didn’t even know could be cooked, and they were all delicious! But these kinds of perks don’t come without earning them and as a gunfighter employed by one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy investigating some of the most hostile forces in the galaxy you never knew if the last meal you ate would be your last meal period. The last thing he had eaten in the hive before getting pinning in the cubby was a bowl of noodles with a protein paste broth. Definitely not as nice as the seared Rotan game bird with a lactic bean salad and a bottle of wine that was near impossible to pronounce.  When he got out of here the first thing he was going to do was learn how to pronounce that wine!
His boss is Inquisitor Balthazar Guildenstern of the Ordo Hereticus. He is a tall man with sharp features, a lean body and no hair whose mission is to root out and destroy the cancer of political and religious heresy in the God Emperor’s Imperium. It’s a grand job and not for the faint hearted. Sergio had met the Inquisitor when he was employed by one of the navigator houses as a body guard. He had been assigned to one of the children of a prominent house, an adult child with a terrible gambling problem. During a particularly expensive game where the boy had gambled away nearly all he had except for his warp eye, the gambling den was raided by Inquisitorial storm troopers. The den was in a particularly seedy part of a city that was known itself as being particularly seedy on a planet that was thought of as seedy in the first place, so when the troopers burst in the response from the gamblers inside was immediate. Weapons of all types were drawn and used. Tables were over turned to create cover. The den itself wasn’t very large, about the size of an average hab unit with two sleep spaces, so the amount of cross fire was thick and deadly. The boy panicked so Sergio, doing his job, shot and fought his way past three of the troopers, aiming for the few vulnerable spots in their armor, and dodged past and under the shooting. He grabbed the boy and dragged him into a back room where, during his earlier scouting, he had spotted a “rat hole” exit that the proprietors probably expected to use on just this sort of occasion. The proprietors didn’t make it. Sergio tossed the boy through the hole and then followed after. They made it out, he tossed a grenade back down the hole and they were just about home free when they were stopped by a squad of storm troopers lead by Inquisitor Guildenstern. The grenade went off shortly after, only the boy reacted.
Sergio holstered his weapons and the boy pissed himself. “I am Sergio Malik, body guard of the Navigator House Shantoom and this is my charge. I understand, as a citizen of the Imperium, that it is my responsibility to surrender to the will of an Inquisitor, but I am also bound by the laws governing the safety of the Navigator Houses to return this boy to his family before allowing him or myself to be taken by any acknowledged authority.” The speech was practiced and relaxed, almost blasé. Sergio knew they had been caught and wasn’t going to be able to fight his way past a squad of anyone out in the open, much less highly trained storm troopers and an Inquisitor.
Inquisitor Guildenstern smiled a small smile that looked like it almost cracked his face, “You managed to escape a gambling den full of miscreants and criminals as they were being raided by some of the best trained soldiers in the Emperor’s galaxy?”
“I did. It was surprisingly easy.” Sergio made firm eye contact with the Inquisitor, but inside he was nervous. “I should also apologize; I had to shoot a few of your troopers to do it.” The storm troopers grimaced and aimed at Sergio for that.
Inquisitor Guildenstern raised his hand to stop them, “That’s all right; you do have a duty to your house and the boy. Even he, with his degenerate habits, is more valuable than the whole of this storm trooper platoon. My question for you is could you do it again?”
Sergio was surprised, “Yes, provided there was time to scout and prepare.”
The Inquisitor nodded to himself, “Let these men go. See that they make it safely back to their transport. You, boy, curb your habits. I will speak to your elders about how I found you here. And you, Malik, inform the House of Shantoom that Inquisitor Balthazar Guildenstern wishes to retain your services for an indeterminate amount of time. I will send for you once this ruckus is cleaned up.” And then he walked away. Sergio didn’t know at the time, nor would he learn until well after, that the Inquisitor had actually had him under surveillance for over a decade.  During that time he had watched how Sergio had fought his way out of a hive city, much like the one he was trapped in now, as part of the planetary defense force when it was attacked by Eldar pirates. He saw that after his discharge the only jobs he was good at were related to violence. Sergio had been an enforcer, money collector, and gun fighter for whomever could afford his price. What the Inquisitor liked about him was that, even as a mercenary, he had integrity and actually did care about the future of humanity. That was rare, especially in a universe wrought with so much temptation. The House of Shantoom released Sergio and it was immediately apparent that he had traded up.  
That is, until you get stuck in a box with four well-armed cultists of the Dark Gods bearing down on you. Grabbing the body of Gersh as a shield, he stood and shot at the four cultists as they approached. Las shots snapped off sounding like repetitive whip cracks. Sergio had sent short bursts of fire in the general directions of the attackers as he popped up, mostly as cover and for the shock. He didn’t hit anyone, though. Now that he had clear sight, at least as clear as his sight could be around the lolling head of Gersh, he was able to place his shots better. Impacts hit Gersh’s body making sounds like popping over-ripe fruit. The stink of flash burned robes and flesh filled Sergio’s nostrils. His shots, better aimed now, downed three of the cultists quickly, their red robes flapping as they fell looking like flames that were burning out. Sergio felt a burn on his left shoulder, it was the leader. He was a better shot and in a better position. After trading shots back and forth he could feel the wet of Gersh’s viscera starting to spill on his legs. This shield wasn’t going to be good for much longer. He dropped with the body as he heard shots slap into the cubby again. The power pack on the las gun was low, only a few shots left. He was still stuck!
“You’re not getting out of this!” The cultist shouted, “I’m sending you to your corpse god and then feasting on your heart!” Then he laughed a deep guttural laugh. Sergio frowned hard and looked around at what he had: a nearly empty las gun, two slugs left in Tania, a dead shot up body, and a series of hoses and tubes in the cubby hole, none of them big enough for him to slip through…
The leader stopped laughing and noticed that, besides the hum of the machines this deep in the hive, there was no noise. He took a quick peek around the corner, no motion by the cubby hole. He swung around with his rifle and popped off a couple shots. No response. “Hey, gun fighter, lost your nerve?” No response. The leader got brave and dashed to a bit of cover closer to the cubby. No shots were fired. “I’m coming to get you, gun fighter! I won’t go down like Gersh!” No response. He dashed to a bit of cover much closer to the cubby, no shots; no movement at in, in fact. Steeling up his nerve the cult leader popped up and ran yelling at the cubby, shooting blindly over the lip into the center of the box! Nothing, only Gersh’s body and a lot of blood all over the floor, a lot of blood; a body’s worth of blood. The leader rushed to the other side of the cubby, maybe the gun fighter had crawled out while he was hiding behind cover? But there was no blood trail, no body and no real escape route that wouldn’t have been visible. He spun in place, checking all the angles, even above. The gun fighter had vanished! Not sure what had happened, but satisfied that he was no longer in danger, the leader went and checked on the bodies of his fallen team. The three on the deck were dead. He collected the guns and power packs to take back with him. The rats and milipods will take care of the bodies. Then he headed to the cubby, Gersh was still there. He wondered how much of the blood in the cubby was from Gersh and how much was from the gun fighter. The leader jumped into the cubby and grabbed the discarded las gun, leaning it against the side of the cubby. Then he flipped over the body…

It wasn’t Gersh, what was left of Gersh after all the shots the body had taken was stuffed down between the pipes and tubes. Sergio had thrown on the robe and laid over the mess to wait for a chance to escape or kill. He said, “The Emperor Protects” and pulled the trigger. Tania spit one of her last two shots right between the cult leader’s eyes and he fell, limp, to the floor of the cubby. Sergio was quick to stand and throw off the robe. The stink of cultist blood was all over him. He grabbed the las guns, used the straps to hold them over his shoulder and made his way to the nearest Adeptus Arbites precinct to report. There were cultists on Muldavia, and the boss was going to have to do something about it.

Leave a Comment

Filed under 52 in 52, 52 stories in 52 weeks, fiction, geek, projects, short story, warhammer 40k

January 29, 2014 · 7:39 pm

52 in 52 Story 4 “Super-Beings and the Fall of the United States: An Oral History”

This story marks my first incomplete story of the challenge. Posting this was a tough decision for me to come to. I had an idea in my head about using super-heroes as a cipher for multinational corporations. Originally it was going to be a first person story re-telling the history of the rise of the super-heroes, how they helped to build up the country, and then describe their downfall and turn to villainy using the Great Recession as a cataclysm akin to DC’s Crisis on Infinite Earths. Very epic in scope and requiring a good deal of research to get the broad facts correct.

I was really excited about it.

But it was a tough write, especially on a deadline. Things weren’t going as well as I hoped. But then I had a stroke of genius: make it an oral history so that some of the disparate ideas can be brought together in different voices that make sense to the facts! A general, a banker, a history professor, a personal assistant and a blue collar guy. These voices would be able to tell the story from a variety of angles and it would help broaden the scope of the story. That worked a lot better.

But then it was Saturday…

I said “screw the deadlines!”

Then Sunday…

Then on Monday and Tuesday I had no time due to schedule (it’s part of the reason why Monday is my post day).

So here we are, Wednesday, and the story isn’t finished and another is due in just a few days. I had to call it. I’m not ready to fall behind on all of my deadlines yet.

I’m taking a lesson from this about deadlines and how it’s important to find a way to work within them. This story was a bit too ambitious for the week that I had. It would have been better saved for when I had more free time – and maybe I’ll revisit it when I have that time – and I should have done something a bit smaller for a week that I knew ahead of time would be short.

All that being said, here is what there is of the story and, as usual, your thoughts and comments are welcome.

– Curtis

Super-Beings and the Fall of the United States: An Oral History
Dr. Robert Lanager, Professor of History, Harvard University –
It was the downfall of America. Sure, the rest of the world felt it, especially the Euro Zone, but the U.S. was hit hardest of all. They had the most sway here, most were headquartered here and those that were headquartered in other parts of the world made regular trips to the United States. It’s like the U.S. was the eye of the storm, so when the damage and destruction started we noticed it too late to do anything about it. They were super-beings with far more power and almost inexhaustible resources which allowed them to do just about anything they wanted and we, wanting to benefit from what they did, allowed them to doalmost anything they wanted. Oh, God, how foolish we were! I look back on the early days now and I get so angry at myself and at the country as a whole. In hindsight it’s so clear what was happening, where the road would lead and yet we didn’t listen to the people who warned us. They were derided and laughed off; completely dismissed by people, who thought they knew better, but none of us really knew and now it’s too late. The damage is done and, frankly, I have no idea how we’re going to get out of this one.
Walter Smith, Retired Banker –
I’ve been around since the beginning; I remember when they first started to show themselves. Bear in mind that we know now that they were always around, but they obviously they weren’t operating as publically. Actually, I take that back, there were a few that were active in the late 19th into the 20th century, I remember my father telling me about them. The beings helped build the infrastructure of the country. They had their hands in the railroads, minerals and energy. In some cases they even helped to report the news of the time. For the most part things were fine, but a few of the beings got a bit big for their britches and some started to consolidate power, keeping everyone they could under their watch. The fall could have come then, but the government put together legislation that seemed to bring them under control and, with those controls in place, most of them started going about normal, proactive lives – generally contributing to society without attracting attention – and then just fading away into the background.
Gen. Thomas Black, Retired Army General –
At first we called them super-heroes. Here they were these amazing beings with amazing powers that could defend us from enemies thousands of miles away. With the help of hundreds of thousands of human soldiers, they fought in every major combat through history: World War I, World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Panama, Afghanistan, The Gulf Wars, all of them! And, in most cases, we won those fights and we couldn’t have done it without them. But that was part of the problem; really, we truly couldn’t do it without them. We knew it, they knew it and for while it was actually ok, a mutual appreciation society. They’d work for us and we’d work for them, building things together to keep this nation great.
Leslie Howard, Office Assistant-
                When they first started to appear, at least when I was growing up, people weren’t ready to believe it. I mean, who would? Suddenly, as if from nowhere, you had these magnanimous beings coming down from the sky to save us. It wasn’t even the powers they showed, movies prepared me for that, hell I expected it… but in real life, seeing people fly and having energy flowing out of their bodies… Sometimes it was too much to take.
Gen. Thomas Black-

If you look at it, the whole thing is kind of generational. We had our heroes start off loyal and patriotic. They believed in the people and what they could do. These were the folks that helped build the America that we call “The Good Old Days.” But as the heroes got older they were replaced by newer heroes, super-beings with different ideas about their contribution to society should be. Now, I want to be clear, these were not villains. While there were always a few of them that worked against society, by and large the heroes were no worse than anyone else. And I guess that’s the rub, they were like us. As the modern times made the world smaller, suddenly our heroes were branching out. They would go to foreign countries, establish headquarters there, and make alliances with the beings that were there. Were we worried in National Defense? A little, but frankly they were still something that we relied on so much that as long as we were the ones getting their “A” game we chose to turn a blind eye. I think that carte blanche may have hurt more than we realized. 

Leave a Comment

Filed under 52 in 52, 52 stories in 52 weeks, failure, fiction, politics, projects, super-heroes