Started 12 May 2018 – A Serialized Story
“Ambush (New Pulp Revival 001)” by Richard F. Yates
Contagious Jake stood on the corner alleyway between Hemlock and Thuderwood. He occasionally turned his head from side to side, shifting his line of sight, but otherwise he remained motionless. He was watching the back of The Angora Snake—a night spot in Henpeck with a less than wholesome reputation. Jake had been standing there since early afternoon. It was nearing 3:30 A.M., and though the wind put not just a chill but a BITE to the night, Jake didn’t move. Didn’t even fidget.
A siren sounded in the distance. There were screams from time to time as well—but Jake was used to these. He always heard screaming. Always. He wasn’t even sure anymore if it was coming from inside his own head or from countless unseen victims. He’d even toyed with the idea that he was somehow hearing the torments of Hell—as if his brain was just naturally tuned to that station…
Eventually, a large white car with impenetrably dark windows entered the alley at the other end of the block from where Jake was stationed and rolled up to the backdoor of The Angora Snake. It stopped, but the headlights were kept on and the engine remained running. The screaming in Jake’s head began to fade, and the loud, electronic THUMP THUMP THUMP of dance music suddenly filled the alley, along with flashing lights and a bit of artificial smoke, as the door to the night club opened wide.
Several figures casually stepped out into the alleyway. The first was a slightly hunched individual with bluish skin, dark blue hair, and eyes that where large and round with no whites. He had a long, slender nose and a thin slash of a mouth that reached across his face almost from ear to ear. He was followed by two women in furs and silver-white pant-suits, both laughing and stumbling down the ramp leading from the doorway to the alley. One woman had long, black hair the fell straight down her back, bangs cut across her eye-line, and eyes like the first individuals. The other woman had blonde hair, teased and hair-sprayed into a gigantic 1960’s space hairdo. She appeared visibly intoxicated, and she stumbled and laughed as she followed the other woman down the ramp.
The last figure to come through the door was a tall, rail thin androgyne with pearly white skin, a bald head, and black wrap-around shades on his/her face. The figure was a full head taller than the others, and that included the blonde’s space hair. Just inside the door was what appeared to be a brown bear, standing on two legs, arms folded across his chest, wearing a leather biker’s cap. The bear growled as the tall, bald individual caressed his furry cheek with thin, slender fingers as he walked by.
Jake pulled a gun from his jacket and aimed it at the tall figure wearing the wrap-around glasses. Blue skin reached the car and opened the driver’s side rear door. Jake pulled the trigger.
Instantly, the tall, bald figure grabbed the blonde woman under her arms and pulled her backwards and lifted her. This put her skull directly into the path of the Jake’s bullet, which entered her forehead and tore through her memories, motor-skills, and life functions. The tall figure howled, an insane, high-pitched cackle, and tossed the lifeless woman to the ground.
As Jake shifted his aim to fire again, the tall figure made a kissing noise, touched his fingers to his lips, and waved at Jake. The blue skinned figure, who had been holding the back door of the car, smiled from his slash of a mouth, showing far too many pointy teeth, then flashed towards the front of the car, then diagonally across the alley next to a dumpster, then to the doorway of an adjacent building. Jake tried to track him as he moved, but it was impossible.
Then Jake felt a pressure in his chest, and ice gripped his lungs. He closed his eyes—tried to scream but couldn’t find his breath and opened his eyes to find that he was looking directly into the dark blue and black circles of a monstrous, grinning face. Jake dropped his gun and looked down at the knife hilt sticking out of his chest. The blue figure pulled the knife, slowly, from Jake’s chest and pushed him backwards. He fell to the ground, eyes still open, but no longer seeing anything.
The grinning blue figure brought his crimson stained knife to his mouth and licked the blade—then spat the blood onto the ground.
“This one was rotten,” he yelled over his shoulder at the tall figure, who was clapping a little golf clap, his fingertips up just under his pointed chin. As the dark-haired woman slid into the car, the back door of The Angora Snake closed, and heavy bolts could be heard slamming into place. The tall androgyne folded awkwardly and climbed into the car as well. Meanwhile, the blue man had flashed from the corner where Jake fell to the front of the car. He spotted the blonde on the ground and reached down and grabbed the woman by the arm and drug her to the trunk, opened it, and tossed her, none too delicately, inside. He closed the trunk, flashed to the front passenger door, and climbed in. The car drove off, leaving the remains of Contagious Jake on the street corner. (He wasn’t edible, apparently.)
In the distance, a siren wailed, and a scream answered from a block or two away—but Jake didn’t hear it.