The Grim Spectre (18 page)

He aimed his gun once more and pulled the trigger, only to be greeted by an empty click. Quickly he brought its twin to bear and was once again greeted by the same sound that would herald his impending doom.

Pulling knives from within his cloak he threw himself at the shambling things, stabbing the closest to him through the eyes, impaling their long dead brains.

His fists worked like pistons, again and again driving the deadly weapons points through the corpse’s brains with feverish intensity.

But now bereft of his magic belts abilities, he was just a man. A man fighting a seemingly endless wave of horrors, and like any man, he began to tire.

His blows became slower, less precise as the crawling; dragging horrors began to overwhelm him and sought to drive him to the ground.

“Get away from me, you ghouls!” he shouted.

He hacked and slashed and kicked, but in the end he was forced down to the hard packed dirt and even there he continued to fight, but within seconds he was covered by an army of the dead.

Standing on a slight hill nearby, The Triumvirate of Terror, Baron Popadoo, The Priest and the Soul Crusher all watched in grim fascination as their foe disappeared from sight.

The Triumvirate of Terror silently continued to watch for any signs of The Grim Spectre’s escape from beneath the pile of ravenous undead creatures, but there was none coming.

“He’s not moving,” Soul Crusher announced.

“As we can all see,” said The Priest. He adjusted the wide brimmed black hat he had on and smiled.

“He should be finished by now,” Popadoo said. He began to walk down the slight hill, the tails of his raggedy tuxedo flowing behind him. The headdress he wore merely made the terrible scene all the more unnerving.

The Priest and Soul Crusher merely looked at each other, and then at their erstwhile leader and began following him down the hill toward the pile of zombies crawling about the spot The Grim Spectre had disappeared under.

Baron Popadoo smiled broadly, and the smile increased with each step he took down the slight hill toward his prize.

“Finally, you are defeated, Grim Spectre. Finally you are out of the way. I will command your empty husk of a body as part of my army of the undead and also as my greatest prize.”

But those were the last words Baron Popadoo spoke. Suddenly glowing hands emerged from the earth itself to wrap about his ankles, and with a powerful heave, those hands yanked and smashed him face first into the ground.

Stunned, Popadoo rolled over; his nose broken and bleeding profusely, as he beheld the terrible form of The Grim Spectre rising slowly, horrifically, like the vengeful spirit he was from beneath the earth itself, floating upward, glowing madly, without substance and immaterial.

Popadoo fought to concentrate, “No, it is not possible! You were defeated,” he said, “Our combined magic overcame the arcane forces that power you.”

“Only for a short while, Devil. My magic regained its strength and all of my abilities are under my control once again,” The Grim Spectre said.

Behind them, The Priest and Soul Crusher both stopped in their tracks, stunned by The Grim Spectre’s sudden reappearance.

But The Grim Spectre wasted no words or time now. He struck like a bolt of lightning, flying down atop his foe; his hands crackled with his shocking touch as he reached down and grasped Popadoo by the throat, instantly rendering him unconscious. Popadoo’s body spasmed limply after a few seconds and then The Grim Spectre contemptuously dropped him to the ground. All about them the horrible moaning and hissing zombies fell, like puppets with their strings cut. The Grim Spectre didn’t even spare them a glance.

He instead turned his attention to the two men who stared at him in stunned silence.

The Priest reacted first; he withdrew a blessed knife from within his coat and threw it.

But The Grim Spectre was anything but a creature of habit, he leaped sideways, deftly avoiding the thrown blade  instead of allowing it pass through him.

In one swift blur of motion he reached within his own cloak and threw one of his knives at the Priest, impaling him through the chest.

The mad former priest dropped to the ground, dead before he reached it. The Soul Crusher looked at his partner drop and turned fearfully toward The Grim Spectre, unsure of whether to attack or run.

But the Spectre took the choice away from his foe, “You will go nowhere, Soul Crusher,” The Grim Spectre roared, “save back to prison, where you belong, or to a morgue. The choice is yours.”

He dove out of the air above Soul Crusher, becoming solid again he slammed into the ex-wrestler with all his strength and weight. He bowled the big man over, knocking him to the ground, “I could easily subdue you with my shocking touch, you inconsequential fool. But you are not deserving of the easy way to oblivion. No, instead you will be dealt with as I would a common thug in the street, with my own two fists.”

The Grim Spectre swung then, connecting a powerful right to the ex-wrestlers jaw, followed by a stunning left. Soul Crusher grunted and kicked his legs out together, catching the Spectre in the stomach and tumbling him backward, “D’ya think you’re the only guy with some moves, Ghost? I got moves too. I got lots o’ moves an’ I’m gonna use em all on you.”

The Grim Spectre stumbled only a few feet then righted himself. Menacingly he growled, “Then let us finish this dance of death, you mortal cur, for only one of us will leave this place. The other may never be seen again.”

The Grim Spectre charged Soul Crusher, who put his own head down and ran to meet the glowing avenger of Riverburgh in battle.

At the last instant The Grim Spectre, ducked and rolled to the side, avoiding the Soul Crusher’s charge. Instantly he was back on his feet before the bald headed ex-wrestler could spin around, and when he did it was right into a powerful spinning kick to the jaw that knocked Soul Crusher to the ground.

Blood dripped from the big man’s jaw. He looked up with hatred spilling from his eyes at the ghostly marauder, just in time to see twin glowing hands reach down to grasp his head in their crackling touch.

“Aaagghhh!” Soul Crusher screamed, but before he passed out, The Grim Spectre released him, allowing him to unceremoniously drop to the dirt, spasming and twitching in pain.

The big wrestler lie there panting in agony, trying to catch his breath. Finally he looked up at The Grim Spectre who floated inches above the ground and said, “W-why din’t you just kill me?”

“Because I am not a murderer.”

“But you killed the priest?”

“That man was no priest, at least not in the church of God, and he left me no choice with his continued attacks. You on the other hand were easily subdued.”

A heavy silence set between them, while the truth of what the Grim Spectre said sunk in.

“W-what do you want outta me?” Soul Crusher finally said.

“Information. What is Zeus up to? What does he have planned with all those chemicals he keeps shipping in at all hours of the night?”

“H-he’s plannin’ somthin’ big, an’ nasty. I don’t even mind tellin’ ya cause it scares the hell outta me. I wanted to get my cash from offin’ you an’ ta get the hell outta this town.”

“How considerate of you,” the Spectre said.

“He’s got this weirdo scientist workin’ for him. Some gorilla lookin’ guy. An’ he’s whippin’ up a batch o’ somethin’ ta do some bad stuff ta everyone in this here city.”

‘Dr. Simian,’
the spectral avenger thought.

The Grim Spectre grabbed the defeated villain by the collars and dragged him up until they were eye to eye,

“What kind of bad stuff, answer me, damn you!”

Fear was written all over Soul Crusher’s face as he stared into that frightening countenance, before he answered,

“H-he’s makin’ up a batch o’ the same stuff that made him into an ape man, but there’s one difference, while he kept his brains, this new stuff is gonna turn everyone he uses it on into a dumb animal, an’ he’s gonna test it tomorrow night in Zeus’ club.”

The Grim Spectre stared at his beaten foe in disbelief,
‘That’s the night he wants me to play at the Olympus room. He’s planning on devolving everyone there as a test of this chemical weapon of his.’

He shook Soul Crusher one more time; to make sure he had his attention and then said, “Why is Zeus doing this? What is the point of it?”

“He’s going to ransom the city under a false name, an’ collect some huge pile o’ cash from the wealthiest residents with the promise of keeping them human. Those who families can’t afford it become a buncha dopes, an’ slave labor wit’ lotsa strength an’ toughness.”

The Grim Spectre looked away for an instant while everything Soul Crusher told him sank in. Then he turned back and said, “Thank you.”

Soul Crusher barely even saw the punch that knocked him out cold

***

The next morning saw Bobby Terrano entering the city room of the Riverburgh Gazette. George Kowalski smiled and nodded as Bobby walked by him and toward Tammy’s desk. At the sight of him she smiled and tossed him a newspaper from atop the cluttered mess of her desk.

“What have we here?” he asked.

The cover was a photo of Soul Crusher and Baron Popadoo being carted off to jail, both were still unconscious, while a third body was covered by a sheet nearby. The headline read ‘The Grim Spectre strikes again-‘Triumvirate of Terror’ defeated by Riverburgh’s own Spectral Avenger.’ The byline on the front page read ‘By Tammy Thomas’

“Nice job, Red,” Terrano said.

He smiled and raised his gaze from the paper to meet her eyes. She rose up out of her chair and stepped toward him.

“Thanks Bobby,” she hesitated a moment and looked at him, then asked, “What brings you here this early?”

“I just wanted to let you know, I decided to accept Zeus’ offer to work at the Olympus Room. I start tonight. I want you to stay clear of that place, Tammy.”

“Why?”

“Because, I think it’s a bad place, Tam. It’s a place no person, especially a good one should go to, ever.”

“Then why are you going?” she asked.

“Because I have business there, and I don’t want to have to be watching out for you as well as having to play a gig in a dangerous place.”

“What if I just want to go out and have a good time in a nice place and hear the best trumpet player on the east coast play somewhere classy tonight?”

He grasped her by the elbows and drew her close, “Tammy, I’m begging you stay home tonight. Don’t go there, please.”

She looked into his eyes silently for a moment and then slowly acquiesced and nodded her head in agreement, averting her eyes at the last, “O-okay Bobby, whatever you want.”

Bobby leaned forward and kissed her, then pulled away and said, “Thank you, Tammy. This is really important to me. I don’t trust Phylo Zeus, at all and I don’t want you anywhere near that place.”

“Then why are you going to play there? Why accept his offer?”

“Like I said, Babe, I have business there, and it’s business I have to conduct alone.”

“You’re scaring me, Bobby.”

“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of,” he looked away and said distractedly, then returned his gaze to her, “When this is all over we’re going to go away together somewhere nice. I’ve just got to play here this one time. Promise me you won’t go near there tonight.”

She looked at him again and said quietly, “I promise.”

“Good,” he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow and explain everything to you then, I promise.”

“You better,” she said.

He kissed her again, turned and walked toward the exit of the Gazette.

George intercepted him on his way out, “Hey Bobby, what do you think of this?” He held up an editorial page he had just had typeset and was about to go into production. The editorials headline was “The Grim Spectre-Avenging Angel or Demon from Hell?”

Bobby chuckled and handed the page back to George after reading it, “I’d go with ‘Avenging Angel’ myself, George.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well for one thing this city’s become a much safer place since he’s been around.”

“Maybe so, Bobby, but this guy, whatever he is, is a killer. He killed that priest among many others. No one can take the law into their own hands like this, no matter their intentions. He’s an enemy of society.”

“To be honest, George, I see him as this city’s savior. That man was no priest. He was defrocked and disgraced and a renegade. Hell, I’d be willing to bet he was here like all the other recent thugs and nut cases at our mysterious local crime bosses behest.”

George nodded in agreement, “Yes, I would have to agree with that assessment. Still, The Grim Spectre is a killer and that kind of ‘hero’ has no place in a modern society.”

“Well in that we’re going to disagree on, George. In a city as filled with corruption as this one is, sometimes for its own good, the rules have to change in order for the innocent to survive. I take The Grim Spectre’s arrival here as a message from God that this place needs to be cleaned up and that normal measures are not going to cut it. That’s why I believe he sent his hand-picked avenger here to save this place.”

George looked Bobby in the eyes and said, “You really believe this is some supernatural being?”

“Do you really believe he’s not?”

Bobby turned and headed toward the door, “I’ll see you later, George.”