B-Movie War (18 page)

The screaming, the burning flesh, it went over Jimmy's head as his cheeks reddened thinking about girls.

“Tell me something interesting,” Vic begged. “You've got a dick, for fuck's sake. I don't care if the chick didn't want anything to do with you. You can't tell me any of the chicks in gym class didn't get you going. It's okay to be a horn dog around your friends, man. Stuff the polite shit. Be a man. Let me have it. Be nasty.”

Vic braked.

The words written in neon spray-painted letters in the road read:

TAKE THE CHEST

GET OUT OF THE CAR

RIGHT NOW

Scrambling to pull the chest out of the trunk right then, the two ran to the shoulder of the road for cover. The shadow of the giant eclipsed the whole neighborhood. Roaring screeches, the concussions of a tromping ten-ton beast closed in. Smashing houses, ripping up the street, each of its steps were a sonic boom. Then the sharp elephant-trunk scream shook them to the core and lifted them off the ground, the rumbling so intense.

Together, clutching the chest, they charged forward. The house in front of them was sucked up, ripped from its very foundation, and came apart mid-air as it vanished hundreds and hundreds of feet high. Seconds later, the Camry was sucked into the unknown force, the windows shattering the moment it took liftoff.

On the undamaged part of the road, Vic caught the neon green message in dripping letters:

RUN STRAIGHT DOWN

ROBBINS STREET

DON'T STOP

FOLLOW THE ARROWS

Houses on both sides of them were suctioned up high with deafening crashes of broken panels. Once sturdy structures were reduced to brittle splinters. Vic gasped seeing people sucked up with their houses, flailing and spinning madly as they fought a pointless battle. Their screams faded the higher they climbed. Just how far was the thing sucking them up, Vic thought.

They hurried down Robbins Street as fast as the wooden chest in their hands allowed them to move.

THOOOM THOOOM THOOOM.

The creature's hooves stomped down onto the earth, threatening to topple them over like pieces on a game board. Keeping their footing secure, matching each other's strides, anticipating turns, stopping and ducking when large pieces of debris were coming down at them.

THOOOM THOOOM THOOOM.

Vic had no concept of where they were running. Every building, road and intersection was reduced to holes in the ground or broken rubble from previous conquests. Through the dust of debris they caught another neon green arrow. It told them to make a right and keep right. Just as they pivoted and completed a quarter of a mile, a trailer attached to a truck slammed nose-first and exploded. The rush of flames, the push of air, they both ended up thrown forward and hitting the turf belly first.

Vic's ears rang from the blast. His mind demanded he get right back up, find Jimmy and run the hell away, but his body refused to do anything. He turned his head and caught Jimmy unconscious. A line of blood was going down his face. The wooden chest was right beside him, undamaged.

A hand grabbed Vic and hoisted him to his feet. The corpse was dressed as a police officer. His ears were both eaten down to the bone, leaving upturned pinkish meat and congealing blood. The cop put two hands on his head to indicate to protect his head and then bent down in demonstration to get to his knees. Then the corpse mouthed with a devilish smile, “BOOM.”

Vic didn't understand what the dead officer was trying to communicate until he balled up his hands together, then separated them, opening his fingers to indicate a great explosion. The cop pointed at an ambulance down the street. Several other corpses were approaching it with a limp gait clutching gas cans. Then a set of corpses shoved a lit rag into the gas tank. Seconds later, the corpses were sucked upwards, their skin leaving their bodies first, then their bones dismantling mid-air as they vanished into the night sky.

THOOOM THOOOM THOOOM.

The ambulance was shot up with split-second speed. Then there was a great explosion. BOOOOOOOOOOM!

Vic rushed back to Jimmy and covered his body with his own, knowing the guy was unconscious and defenseless. Closing his eyes tight, Vic waited for the worst to come.

After the explosion, there was a short moment of calm. Jimmy returned to consciousness. Vic helped him back to his feet. Streams of blood flowed in all directions. So strange. Vic couldn't put it together. Across from them, the partially intact billboard propped a block away from their standpoint glowed with more instructions.

FOLLOW THE TUNNEL

TO THE END

BRING THE CHEST

Between what appeared to be a lone-standing tunnel just ahead of them and a series of buildings smashed to their roots, was the strangest creature they had seen yet. Vic imagined the shape of a skunk, but with very long legs, and covered in black and white fur. Its face was turned to pulp, the edges still sizzling from the fires that burned in its vacant sockets and hollowed out skull. Out of every orifice, it exuded reeking brain smoke. Vic had no idea what the creature could be, but it was as tall as the empire state building.

Jimmy eyed the felled creature with a sneer. A gleam of recognition played on his face. He gave Vic a glance, leery of setting his partner off, but saying it anyway. “I recognize this from a movie. It's a giant anteater. I won't trouble you with the plot.”

“An anteater?” Vic let out a groan, what turned into a shutter as he watched cooked brains ooze out of the monster's ruined face. “Forget it. It's a waste of time wrapping my mind around this shit. Let's get it over with so I can give my body a rest before something else tries to obliterate us.”

“Good plan.”

They lugged the chest toward the tunnel. As they grew closer, they realized it wasn't exactly a tunnel. It was a long leathery tube. The edge facing them was wet with gristle and blood. The anteater's snout was as long as two football fields.

On the street next to a manhole, the neon green words appeared then disappeared:

HURRY

“We're going as fast as we can, damn you!” Vic didn't mean to lose it. He was beat up, shell-shocked from many explosions, and it felt like his shoulder could unlock any moment from carrying the heavy chest. “I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying. Fuck!”

He could only imagine how Jimmy felt. He was shocked when Jimmy belted out, “Come on, Vic, don't be a pussy. You scared to go down the dark tunnel?”

“What'd you just say?”

“Quit being a pussy and MOVE!”

Vic smiled on the inside. It was pretty damn funny to hear Jimmy talk like that. He wouldn't let Jimmy know that.

They entered the snout together.

Chapter Thirty

The way was pitch black and hot without ventilation or incoming air. The walls of the anteater's snout were textured with bristles. Nose hairs, Vic imagined, but the nose hairs were clotted with bodies. Impaled on them were dead torsos wet with bloodied clothes. Vic pictured hundreds of people sucked up into the snout and either trapped there to die or killed on impact.

They walked for what felt like miles. They rested on and off, their arms tired from lugging their burden. The more times they took a break, the longer it took for them to pick up the chest again and keep moving. The air was getting thinner. They were covered in sweat and the stench of hundreds and hundreds of dead bodies expiring in this humid, fetid trap.

“I can't keep going,” Jimmy said, his voice so much like a pouty child's Vic wanted to slug him. “My arms are killing me. This thing is too heavy.”

“Now who's being a pussy? Change your tampon and let's go.”

Every body pinned to the fleshy walls, spread out on the floor, or writhing on the ceiling, suddenly thrashed in place, reaching out to them, every pale cold dead hand pushing and urging them forward. Their warnings were a dizzying chant. Hundreds begged them to forge on:

“Hurry/death awaits us/death is your future/you'll die a thousand deaths/eternal slumber with be bloodbath after bloodbath/the dead will seek retribution/help us/help us before no one's alive to be saved/you don't want to die/to die is to accept damnation and suffering/suffering ten- fold for fighting against their plans/save your soul/save us all/keep moving/faster/hurry/don't stop/don't turn back/fear not/it's much worse to be dead than alive/no forgiveness if you fail/you will be sentenced/guilty you shall suffer/run/move/seek the end of the tunnel
.
”

And they did. Vic found the energy to keep pumping his legs and carry the wooden chest. Jimmy did too. Covering good ground, they stopped when the chest hit a door.

The way out.

When they opened the door and went inside, they found the hallway behind the entry point was narrow and undamaged. The walls and ceiling were intact, and best yet, Vic thought, there wasn't a single dead body anywhere. He shut the door behind them. Once he did, the corpses chanting their warnings suddenly stopped. Silence. The two of them had done what the dead wanted. A neon green arrow formed on the wall then vanished. They followed the hallway, the way lit by the ceiling lights. The building had power. That was promising, Vic thought.

Seeing Jimmy covered in dried blood and the look of disgust on his face made Vic wonder what he looked like. How had they made it this far without being killed?

There was no sign to indicate what this building was used for. It was vast, as it took them forever to find the end of the hall. The channel ended and opened up to a front lobby. The windows were boarded up and reinforced with a handcrafted wooden barricade. On the other side of the building, another barricade was built, walls supported by wooden beams, new walls, another set of wooden beams, to block something out. He smelled sawdust and steel. These were built recently, he realized.

Then Vic's gaze fell on the man sitting on a bench right in front of a barricade. He wore a checkered shirt rolled up to the elbows. He was a thick man with long gray hair. He was smoking a cigarette.

“You here with the shit we need? If so, it's about fucking time.”

“It's a bit crazy out there, if you haven't noticed.” Vic did his best to not launch across the room and break the guy's jaw. “We did our best, asshole. A lot of good people have died out there.”

“Whoa, big guy. You're giving me the eyes you'd give a punching bag. Both of you stay where you are. First thing's first. I have to put on my glasses.”

They placed the chest on the ground to rest their arms. Then Vic gawked in confusion as the man placed a pair of 3-D glasses on his face. One blue lens, one red lens. The guy looked like a mental backwoodsman. All he needed was a movie screen and a bag of popcorn, and he was set to go to the movies. Minus the sawed off .22.

“Stay there a second, please.”

Vic couldn't see the man's eyes through the colored lenses. His forehead wrinkled, scrutinizing them. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yep, you're alive. You're not one of those dead people either. You've got to be careful. Good and bad dead spirits, it's hard to tell the difference without these B-movie goggles.”

Jimmy questioned with a smile. “B-movie goggles?”

“Yeah, that's what I call them. I was a woodshop teacher at a junior high. I taught kids how to play with wood.” He paused for the laughter that didn't come. “I always stressed to wear your protective eyewear, your goggles, in case something flies in your eyes. Never mind, it's been a long, weird, unbelievable night. Forgive me if I'm acting strange.”

Vic remained standoffish. “Who are you? What are we doing here exactly?”

The stranger introduced himself as Greg Manley. Greg said they could call him Mr. Manley if they preferred. His students loved calling him “Mr. Manley”. Vic and Jimmy introduced themselves. That finished, Greg stood with the gun pointed at the floor.

“This building is invisible to our enemies, but not for long. The dead are helping us in every way that they can. That gives us just enough time to strategize and fight back. The resistance is happening below our feet. Our crew will be happy that you've arrived with the chest. I was worried you wouldn't make it.” Greg gave them a genuine look of sympathy. “Understandably so. It's insanity out there. The plan is to go downstairs and kick start our retaliation. Take the chest with you and follow me. Our work begins now. We've only got a few hours before we're not safe anymore. Before the evil fuckers out there start coming in after us.”

Greg guided them down a set of emergency stairs. When he opened the door to the next floor, there were offices on both sides of the hallway. Every room had a set of sleeping people. Supplies were scattered and piled against the walls, items ranging from jackhammers, bags of concrete, rows of handguns, shotguns and machine guns, dozens of tool boxes, wooden planks, nail guns, chainsaws, ladders, gas cans, tires, tile saws, plastic tubs of lug nuts and screws, sand bags and other various things. Families clung to each other in each of the offices, including children, husband and wives who were missing parts of their families, and others who were alone with that expression of being misplaced and having nothing to channel their grief into except more dread and fear.

Greg raised his voice to gain everybody's attention. “Okay people, the time is now to work. Our help has arrived. The next plan is to set the traps, fortify the barricades and arm ourselves. The plan is to buy time. Every monster and enemy will do anything to prevent us from executing our plan, so we have to be ready before the shield over this place fizzles out.”

The group got up and took collective action. Every component of the work machine seemed to know what to do, where to go and how to do it without instruction. People were picking up tools, lugging weapons and supplies back upstairs. They were alone in the hallway after minutes of them waking up.

Greg stayed behind. He said to Vic and Jimmy, “Follow me. The way down is complicated. And keep in mind, we're not coming back up. Our work is down below.”

“What is this building?” Vic asked Greg, seeing that Jimmy was petrified. Jimmy carried the other end of the chest and stayed quiet. “I see offices, but I couldn't view the outside. Everything's obliterated.”

“There's nine floors to this building. All nine floors with windows that can be breached. These newer buildings were built cheaply, but that's working for us too, seeing that we can modify it so easily. This building is actually a hub for a movie company. The part we're at now is the business part, and the higher levels are movie sets, editing rooms, etc.”

“What movie company? In New Jersey?” Jimmy came to life again. The talk of movies always got a rise out of him. “Who makes movies here?”

“Um, well, not movies in the classic sense.”

Vic already knew what he was hinting at. “You're talking about porno movies.”

Greg gave a sly grin. “Yeah, or as my dad would've called them, ‘pussy films'. The guy who owns the company is going to meet us below, but I'll warm you, he's dead.”

“Won't he melt?” Jimmy asked.

Greg sighed. “Some of them melt, some don't until later, depending on how much soul energy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Vic said. “So where are we going with this chest? Let's get there and talk about it then. I'm tired of lugging this heavy bitch around.”

“Fair enough.”

Greg pointed back to the emergency stairs. They trudged down another floor. They entered a strange boiler room. Rusted pipes, a raging furnace, rooms with cleaning supplies and janitorial offices, were spread out among winding halls.

Vic's body tensed. “What the fuck is this scary looking shit?”

“No, it's not what you think. It's supposed to trick you. The guy who runs this movie company, he refers to himself as Knob Rogers. He's been in the smut industry since the '70s. He's a master at getting other people to fund his projects. I'm saying this because this building used to be full of corporate offices. Rich lawyer types, some of which, who love Knob's porno. But this building was designed by a set of weirdo rich people. It's why the dead sent us to this building. There's sub-levels, secret places to hide. It's a labyrinth of hidey holes. There's an access to the secret sub-levels down here. I'll go first if you don't trust me.”

Vic thought it over and remained skeptical. The story was wild. A porno king, a building with secret nooks designed by rich people, it was a bit too farfetched. The whole situation was out of the realm of sense and reasoning.

So why would this make any more sense?

Vic eyed the .22 the whole time since he met Greg. “You give me the gun, you take the other end of this chest and you tell me where to go, and I'll check it out first. That's the deal. Non-negotiable, and time's ticking.”

Greg had no problem accepting the request, though when he handed the gun to him, he muttered, “You better be careful where you point that thing. Everybody's jittery and accidents happen.”

Vic didn't say anything. Let the guy sweat, he thought. Vic let the two carry the chest ahead of him. He felt like the warden in a work prison camp. Down the first hall, the lights were a weak orange. The background filled with boiler room's churning. Another hall, they entered a janitor's office. The square room had a desk, a computer and a set of file cabinets (what janitor needed file cabinets, he wondered).

Greg said, “You see that nudie calendar on the wall?”

Vic saw the calendar. The woman was on her knees planting petunias in her backyard with only a red mini-skirt and no top. She was a wild brunette with flowing hair that fell just right over her breasts, the strands covering the nipples.

Tasteful.

“Behind that calendar is a key code panel. I have the password.”

Vic wasn't buying it. “Put down the chest. You do the password. How do I know something won't cut my head off when I press it?”

“You don't.” Greg jointly set the chest down with Jimmy, stepped around Vic and lifted back the calendar to the panel behind it. It was a key pad of numbers. Greg dialed the numbers. The wall behind Vic clicked. A lock was unlatched. A hidden door opened a quarter of an inch.

Greg walked to it, opened it and revealed a short access that eventually stopped at an elevator. A single light on the ceiling cast its glow on the steel front. It promised many things, the mystery of it causing Vic's imagination to run wild.

He asked Jimmy, “What do you think?”

“We've gone this far,” Jimmy said so softly Vic barely heard him. “Why not see it through to the end? My father pointed me in this direction. I trust him.”

“Okay,” Vic said. “I guess I've got the gun. If anything happens.” He didn't care that Greg could hear his every word. “I'm still not sure about this whole porno guy business. Besides that calendar, I haven't seen anything vaguely pornographic. And believe me, I would've noticed.”

Greg winked at them when he pressed the elevator's button. “You'll see what you're looking for, buddy. I promise you won't be disappointed.”