Tentacle Death Trip (14 page)

“Hello there,” the
man said.
“You Samson?”

“Who wants to
know?”

“My name is
Enzo
. I represent Mr. Silver. You do know who Mr. Silver
is, correct?”

“Yeah, I heard of
him.”

“You’ve raced for
him….whether you know it or not. He’s noticed you. Your win against Savage Fred
was nothing short of amazing. Mr. Silver was really impressed.”

“That
so?”

“
Yessiree
and now
he’s
interested
in your participating in a race he’s organizing….”

Enzo
explained the details to Samson who just sat there,
nodding and grunting after every sentence.

Finally Samson said, “I’ll do it.”

Enzo
clapped his hands once. “Fabulous!”

That night Samson had a dream he was being chased by
thousands of snakes. Or were they vines? He couldn’t really tell. The dream
ended with his being devoured in the midst of oceanic whirlpool while the sound
of a car engine shook him to his core.

V.

Behind the finish
line was the stadium seating filled to the brim with wild spectators screaming
for their favorite racer. Some were wearing transparent plastic skull masks in honor
of
Drac
. Others wore yellow shirts with the name
SAMSON blazoned across the front in bold, black letters.

Samson had the gas
pedal down to the floor. His hands gripped the wheel so hard he felt his
knuckles burn. Paulo was still crouched down on the floor of the passenger
side.
Drac
was ahead of them by five feet, his glass
skull shining in the sun.

“Go,
goddamnit
, go,” Samson said, talking to his car. Paulo
looked at him with visible hurt on his face. “I wasn’t talking to you, kid.
Just the car.”

Then he shook his
head as he watched
Drac
speed through the finish
line, cutting the ribbon in half, a piece of it falling on Samson’s windshield
as a reminder of his complete and utter failure.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

Yowzah
!
Yowzah
!
Yowzah
! We have a winner!

Can you believe
it?
Drac
Dunwich
, Mr. Glass
Skull himself, has won the race! Poor old Samson, he’s the loser but let’s face
it, he’s been a great entertainer, right? Well, maybe not as much as Mr.
Dunwich
but hey, we all can’t be show-stoppers!

Now let’s get
ready for Mr. Silver. Yep, you heard me right. Mr. Silver is coming out to
personally congratulate the winner. We’ll also find out the bonus prize for
killing Lord Bing Bong. Is everybody excited? Hell yeah!

*

I.

Drac
drove through the gate and went past the finish line
onto a ramp that brought him onto the boardwalk. A large crescent-shaped
stadium had been built on the boardwalk and the beach, giving
Drac
a view of the audience that had been watching the
entire race. What shocked him was not the cacophony of cheers but the sight of
people wearing masks that seemed based on him. Should he have been flattered?
He wasn’t.

After driving up
onto the boardwalk, he stopped at the stage that had been built over the beach.
Standing on top of that stage was
Enzo
in his tacky
white suit and behind him, a tall man with a ponytail. His grin cut his face in
half, revealing bright yellow teeth.

Drac
stepped out of the car to the ear-crushing din of the
audience. He slammed the car door and looked over the stage to the ocean where
the city of
R’lyeh
was waiting like an unwrapped present he was going to be forced to open. He
could see there had been a green stone bridge built from the stage to
R’lyeh
, crossing the water like a witch’s finger directing
him to his fate.

He turned around
and saw Samson pull up. How was the guy going to accept defeat? Was he going to
jump out and accuse
Drac
of cheating? Would he just
get out and shoot him?

Drac
stared through the windshield of Samson’s car and saw
that he wasn’t making a move to get out. He just stared back at him.

The loudspeakers
blared. “Congratulations,
Drac
!
Yowzah
!”

The crowd cheered
and
Drac
looked up to see the large video screens
that had been hung on the sides of several hotels. He looked at his face, his
glass skull, his brain soaked in gasoline...

“
Yowzah
!
Let me turn things over to the boss. Yes,
Mr. Silver himself!”

Enzo
handed the microphone to Silver who smiled even wider.
He laughed and the chuckling reverberated down the boardwalk. It was so loud
that
Drac
expected the hotels to tremble.

“Well, well,
there’s my winner. There’s my
Drac
Dunwich
. I should have known the driver wearing the
Halloween costume would win the death race.”

Silver laughed. It
made a hollow sound that chilled
Drac’s
spine.

The warlord went
on. “Now, before we get to anything else, let’s talk about your bonus prize for
killing Lord Bing Bong. You really took a thorn out of my side and I appreciate
it. Oh, do I appreciate it. And because I do, I’m going to award you with
something I know you’ll enjoy.” He made a gesture to someone behind
Drac
.

From behind
him
walked Mr. Silver’s enforcer, the man called COP, still
just wearing a leather mask and codpiece, still possessing eyes that were cauldrons
of milky hell. On his shoulders he carried a large cube of green flesh. He
dropped it at
Drac’s
feet and said, “Food.”

The crowd laughed.

Silver whistled
into the microphone.
“Whew,
yessir
,
Drac
.
You got yourself a nice-looking cube of
Yugg
meat. Cop there, he was half right. You could use it
as food, of course, but there are so many other uses. Smoke it, snort it, do
your laundry with it. I’ve heard you can bind books with it, too. So put that
into your car and let me go on about your……prize.” Silver laughed while turning
to
Enzo
who snickered into his palm. That was all
Lord Bing Bong’s life was worth: a cube of
Yugg
meat
and they found it hilarious.

Drac
heard a car door slam. Samson had gotten out of his
car and was walking next to him.

“Congratulations,”
Samson said.

Drac
nodded.

They both looked
at the stage as Mr. Silver smirked. He said, “What I like about being an
entertainer is that I have the freedom to….change things as I see fit. I call
it the Berlusconi rule of power. I mean, you two men participated in the race
of your lives and it entertained the crowd. For that, I thank you. But it’s not
as simple as that.” He snapped his fingers and Cop walked to Samson’s car and
opened the passenger door, pulling Paulo out by the neck.

“Hey, you get the
hell away from him!” Samson said, running over.
 
He was punched in the nose by Cop. He fell to the ground, blinded by
tears and pain. But through those tears he watched Cop drag Paulo up to the
stage where Mr. Silver grabbed the boy’s neck and held him in place.

Cop walked back to
Samson, grabbed a handful of hair, and dragged him to the front of the stage
where he stayed on his knees, looking up at Paulo, Mr. Silver, and
Enzo
.

Mr. Silver put the
microphone to his mouth and blew into it, causing a wave of static to erupt
from the speakers. Then he said, “Samson. You’re courageous and chivalrous. You
saved this boy from an uncertain fate, right? Well, I never said you could have
a partner in the race, now did I? I think some punishment is called for.”

“He wasn’t a
partner,” Samson said.

“Oh, well, I
guess…” Silver started but was interrupted by
Enzo
.

“Mr. Silver, sir,
may
I have a word with you?” he said.
“In
private?”

Silver nodded and
dropped the
mic
to the ground. He threw Paulo to the
ground and bent his head down so
Enzo
could whisper
into his ear.

“There is
something strange about the boy.”

“What do you
mean?”

“I feel
something,”
Enzo
said. “I feel something ancient
under the surface of his skin.
Something to do with power.
Something to do with……that.”
He pointed out to the
sea, towards
R’lyeh
.

“You mean….”

“He is not a real
child,”
Enzo
said. “He’s….”

Silver nodded in
understanding and walked back to the end of the stage and picked up the
microphone. He motioned for
Enzo
to grab hold of
Paulo. Then he looked at Samson. “You’ve come to value this…..boy, right?”

Samson didn’t
respond. Cop kicked him in the ribs and said, “Answer.”

Samson shook his
head which brought on another kick and another. Finally he said, “Yes.”

Silver said, “He
was such a fragile child in the need of rescue and you swooped in like a hero
and did just that. Now look at him.” He moved Paulo around by the neck, to the
right and then to the left. The boy didn’t struggle with the hand grabbing his
neck. He looked catatonic.

“Well, Samson,
this is sort of….ironic…considering your history.”

“What are you
talking about?” Samson lifted himself to his feet.

“I’m talking
about…..Jack.”

Samson’s heart
sank. During the race, he had tried his best to bury his memories about his
son. Having a young boy in the passenger seat actually helped him do that, as
if the presence of Paulo had taken the place of the past. But now…..

“What the hell are
you talking about?” he said, getting ready to jump up on stage and tear Silver
apart.

“Samson, I’m talking
about the son you failed to save. You see, I’m a businessman. That’s it. Not
only do I deal in consumer goods but in information, knowledge. I know many
things, Samson. Rarely does something happen in New
Jersey that I don’t know about or approve.”

Silver dug his
fingers into Paulo’s neck, tearing flesh. The crowd was silent except for a few
random gasps.

Samson jumped
forward but was held back by Cop. The smell of fish filled his nostrils as the
brute gripped him like a vise. “What the fuck are you doing!” he yelled at
Silver.

Silver tilted his
head and smiled. “I’m opening a book.”

II.

When Silver
started tearing out the kid’s flesh,
Drac
almost
pissed his pants. He’d seen some fucked-up stuff before but nothing like this.
It’s one thing if a racer ran over a kid during the race. That was a violent
moment of adrenaline that could be understood if not excused.
But to mutilate a young boy in front of a crowd of people?
That was absurd
ly unnecessary.

He crossed his
arms and watched as Silver continued to strip off the skin from the boy,
tearing muscle until he was grabbing handfuls of something that didn’t look
like it belonged in a human body.

With a sinister
smile on his face, Mr. Silver was pulling out page after yellowed page of
parchment out of Paulo’s mangled body for the boy had not been real, had not
been a living child.

The kid had been a
living, breathing accursed tome.

Samson let out a
howl of anguish, watching Paulo being torn up, seeing his flesh thrown aside
while paper was being pulled out of his shell-like body.

But
Drac
just stood and watched silently.

Silver tore a
handful of pages out from under Paulo’s ribcage and the body, now emptied,
dropped to the ground.

“Don’t you worry,
Samson,” Silver said. “The kid was never real. Well, at least not as real as
your son.”

III.

Two Weeks Ago

Simon
Revair
held the
Abgrund
Abschaum
and smiled.

Finally, he had
possessed it: the harbinger of the new age. He put the book to his nose and
inhaled the scent of primordial knowledge, leathery flesh, and the skin cells
of ancient fingers.

Simon put the book
on the engine and got into the car to start it.

The revving of the
engine warmed the tome. Simon went into the trunk and brought out his supplies:
four buckets of clay and a bag of tools made of bone and metal. He walked over
to the engine and stared down at the book, watching flakes of parchment flutter
up into his face. He inhaled them.

Then he got to
work.

It took him four
hours but when he was done, he had transformed the
Abgrund
Abschaum
into a walking herald of oblivion, a
book in the form of a child.

“Wake up,” he said
to the small form below him.

The child-thing
stirred and sat up. It looked at Simon and said, “I’m awake.”

“That you are, my
son.
That you are.

IV.

Silver looked at
Drac
and winked. “Don’t worry. I didn’t forget about you.”

“What? What’s the
point of all this?”
Drac
said.

“Straight
to the point.
I like that. Let me tell you. You two men are so special
to me, to all of us.” Silver motioned to the crowd, giving them permission to
cheer. “You are two top-notch entertainers and now you’ll have the chance to
entertain us even more.”

Drac
said, “The race is done.
I’m
done.”

“Oh, is it? No, I
don’t think it is. See that bridge?” Silver pointed to the green bridge that
had been constructed to stretch all the way to the city of
R’lyeh
. “You two will be racing
over it.”

Samson grunted.
“The hell I will.”

Drac
concurred. “I already won.”

The audience
erupted in hoots and howls. How dare the two racers deny Mr. Silver?

“Boys, you don’t
seem to understand. You both are going over that bridge. There’s no discussion.
Samson, I’m sure you’re wondering how I know about Jack and I’ll only say this.
When you go over that bridge, you’ll be entering a whole new realm of truth, of
reality. Granted, it may not be the reality you want to face but, well, it’s
the reality that’s waiting for you.” Silver grinned. “Jack’s waiting for you.”

Samson’s heart
dropped. He looked over at the city. It was a bulbous, gargantuan island that
rose from the sea like a monstrous pimple. It pulsed and throbbed like an
oceanic heart sending ominous sound waves into Samson’s ears. It was strange
that it hadn’t appeared in his peripheral vision. It was as if it only existed
if he viewed it with undivided attention. The
chlorochrous
city walls ended at impossible angles. He rubbed his eyes in fear that he was
hallucinating. The walls were decorated with
holocryptic
symbols. Beyond the walls there were spiraling obelisks and monolithic slabs of
cock-eyed rock that reached up to the clouds.

And now to think
Jack might be within those walls.

Silver’s voice
interrupted his meditation. “It looks magnificent, doesn’t it? Almost makes you
glad all the modern cities have been destroyed. They were all fucking garbage
anyway. Trash heaps full of worthless meat.”

Drac
shouted. “What makes you think I’ll race again?”

Silver said
nothing. He stepped over the scraps of Paulo on the stage and stood on the
edge. “Because…..”