Chapter Twelve – United We Stand…
United we stand…
The goons cooled out on the dead, black tiles as I staggered on into the dark fortress of pain. In the distance, the sound of voices, hurried voices, the sound of a cornered animal, ready to fight to the death. And I, and my .45, would oblige it.
The door crashed open as my head thumped against my skull, colours and pegs flickering and pulsating like the lightning that still twitched up and down my body. Two goons fell. My .45 roared into the night like a pitbull unleashed for the first time upon its prey. Renfield stood behind an upturned table, Thompson in hand, ready for this fight to the death. That was OK by me. I wasn’t taking any prisoners tonight. This was personal.
“Detective,” Renfield yelled over the thunder of bullets shredding the door frame I was sheltering behind. “I see you are a persistent patron of the arts.” Another cavalcade of splintering oak pinged against the wall opposite.
His shadow made for the door behind him as he called out “You may be interested in my latest work, entitled ‘The Death of a Meddler’. It will cost you an arm and a leg.”
I cursed, reloading the pistol as I leapt over the fallen furniture into the next room.
Butterflies raced overhead, the peggle turning the glass-panelled menagerie into a swirling phantasm of horror. The Thompson chattered in the distance, catching the display cases and showering the room with broken glass as the butterflies streamed around us. I fought my way through the flapping wings to the sound of the blare of the machinegun.
A large, black sphere rolled into the corridor in front of me. I stopped, momentarily, dumbstruck by this thing in front of me, until I saw the fuse.
The blastwave seared my tattered jacket as I swung round the corner just in time. I heard a familiar laugh, as Renfield cursed and told him to fire.
Splork’s grin echoed off a cracked mirror, the reflection of a pump-action glinting in the moonlit hallway.
“Some people,” he called, firing a shell around the corner, pellets pinging off the wall, “know when it’s Game Over, Dick!” He roared, pumping both barrels in my direction.
Steadily, I took aim from the mirror, and made my shot. The gun roared twice, pinging off the wall where I placed the sights. Two shouts rang out into the darkened hall. Splork moaned and Renfield – well, it was probably a curse in French or something. In the mirror, I saw two figures crumple into their own world of pain. It was nice to give back to the community now and then.
In the hallway, a giant pyramid stood, mummies and statues and other ancient junk lining the walls like soldiers guarding the tomb of an ancient king. At the top, the circus cat sat, a rifle in his lap.
“Roll up, roll up!” The cat called, taking aim, “It’s the amazing Dick Turpentine. Watch as he takes bullet after bullet, hit after hit, and yet, ladies and gentlemen, HE STILL WON’T JUST DIE.”
Behind him, the sun was beginning to rise, and it lit the top of his head like a halo. I saw the flash of the rifle as a glint on this crown and rolled as the round shredded the cold stone floor where I was just standing.
Kat Tut screeched incoherently and fired again, the shots flying wildly about me. I sheltered behind a sarcophagus, the poor, dead guy inside taking a bullet or two that should have had my name on it. I turned and pulled the trigger. It clicked at me, spent. The rifle’s scope glinted in my face.
The shot whistled past my ear, showering me with dust and debris as it shattered the wall behind. I was sweating, the universe still spinning. This couldn’t be the end. Not now. Not now…
In the shadows, the rising sun slowly lighting the dark corners of the room, I saw the heavy object, standing ready to serve its king. I smiled.
The brief look of surprise on Tut’s face was framed perfectly in the ancient weapon’s sights. “Say hello to Osiris for me” I croaked, and the face was replaced by a cloud of debris as the crossbow smashed into the eye of the pyramid, blowing the clown backwards from his lofty pedestal.
I moved on, as the darkness of night lingered in the cool clutches of dawn. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the sound of hooves.