Shatnerquake (9 page)

The Shatners screamed as their bodies bent and transformed.
 
First their arms were gone.
 
Then the Shatners levitated into the air as their feet began to change.
 
Their legs disappeared as the limbs fused together and extended out, giving each body a third reel.
 
Once the makeover completely took their arms, their torsos began to change starting at the shoulder.
 
The three reels of flesh-stock met in the center of the chest and became one large strip continuing up to their neck.

The floating disembodied Shatner heads managed to sustain the cry of “No!” until they too disappeared.

The flesh-strips flapped in the air and then were sucked into the light.
 
Once the last bit was gone, the light suddenly turned off.

Bruce and Bruce stood silent and still.
 
They looked at each other and then to Shatner’s body.
 
Blood oozed down the half-head.

They turned to each other.
 
Bruce stared deeply into Bruce’s eyes.

“I think it’s all over,” Bruce said.

Bruce nodded.
 
“There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you,” she said.

“Yes,” said Bruce.

“I love—”

The blast of red light emitted from Shatner’s head.
 
It tore through the room, leaving all non-living matter unharmed but it reduced Bruce and Bruce’s brains to runny sludge as it passed through them.
 
They fell to the ground holding each other.

The light spread through the whole convention center.
 
It filled every room and overtook everyone.

Then the light went out.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

William Shatner came to.
 
He moved his head and it felt like a thousand
Gorn
were pounding inside.
 
He winced at the pain as he looked around the room.
 
It was empty but for the three Campbellians lying on the ground.
 
One had a gaping hole through his chest.
 
The other two didn’t look harmed but they were not breathing.

He tried moving his body and the rope that had held his arms and legs in place easily broke away.
 
He looked at it and it looked like it had been burned through.
 

He turned around in the chair and looked behind him.
 
There really was no one else in the room.

Where did the…me’s go?

The last thing he could remember was the Campbellians putting the helmet on his head.
 
Then he went out.

He looked down at his body and saw that his clothes were now fresh and clean.
 
It was the same suit he had been wearing before but all the blood stains and tears were gone, as if he had not been fighting for his life all day.
 

As he tried to stand up, the world violently spun about him.
 
He tried to steady himself but he fell right back into the captain’s chair.
 

He tried standing again and he fell to the floor.
 
Struggling, he managed to get to his hands and knees.
 
His head screamed in protest at the movement.
 

The turned-off
lightsaber
was on the floor in front of him.
 
He grabbed it and shoved it in the waistband of his pants.
 
If any of the Shatners were around, they would surely make short work of him in this condition but at least the weapon would give him a fighting chance.

He crawled to the door of the
tuborlift
and pulled himself up the wall.
 
He paused to vomit and then the world had stopped moving slightly enough for him to stand on his own.
 
He pushed the button and the doors slid open.

The next room of the museum, an exhibit based on “Incubus,” was empty of people.
 
So was the next one.
 
Shatner did not see any sign of another person until he managed to stagger to the lobby.

The marble floors were carpeted with corpses.
 
Some had obviously been crushed to death by the crowd, their bodies mangled and mashed.
 
Some bodies displayed no signs of injury but it was obvious from their positions and stillness that they were all dead.
 

Shatner stood at the top of the lobby’s stairs and almost cried when he saw the sun shining in through the glass entranceway.
 
He half ran/half fell down the stairs and across the bodies.
 
His head and body screamed with pain in protest but he was too joyous to care.

He reached the set of doors next to the wrecked ambulance and with great effort, managed to push aside the body of a skinny girl wearing Spock ears.

He went into the revolving doors and pushed and found himself outside.
 
He rushed forward and threw himself onto the concrete.
 
The feel of fresh air as euphoric as a drug to him.

He was vaguely aware of the flashing lights of emergency vehicles around him and only half-heard the
person run
up to him.

“Are you OK, sir?” they asked, throwing a blanket over him.

Shatner didn’t respond.
 
He just cried and started kissing the ground.

The person pulled him to his feet as two other people ran over.
 
They guided him to the back of an ambulance as they talked.
 
Shatner’s head hung low the whole time.
 
The pain had resided but there was now a low drone that filled his hearing.
 

“Is it…”

“I think so.”

“Sir?
 
Sir?
 
Are you OK?
 
Can you tell me your name?”

Shatner slumped against the side of the ambulance and started laughing, “I’m…William Shatner.”

He laughed so hard his eyes
teared
up.
 
He rolled his head around giggling.

When he looked at the paramedics he started screaming.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The bar was darkly lit and people disappeared into shadows along the wall.
 
It was just what Shatner was looking for.
 
He found a stool at the bar and took a seat.
 
His head ached with a dull throb.

The bartender came over.
 
“What can I get you?”

William Shatner looked into his own face.
 
“Whiskey…on the rocks.”

The bartender placed down the drink and Shatner paid, tipping generously.
 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills.
 
He popped three in his mouth and downed them with a swallow of whiskey.
 
The bartender watched this happen but said nothing and left to attend to other customers.

Shatner sipped his drink and looked around the room.
 
He saw himself sitting at three other spots at the bar, a group of four
hims
were at a table, and two of him were making out in a back corner booth.

He chugged the rest of the drink, his head feeling slightly better as the drug cocktail numbed him, and waved the bartender over for another.
 
He spent the rest of the night with his head low, slamming back whiskey and downing pills.
 

The bartender announced last call and Shatner stood up, preparing to leave.

“Excuse me, are you William Shatner?”

He turned and saw himself wearing a very short, very tight red dress.
 

The Shatner batted his eyes at him and held out his hand.
 
“It’s an honor to meet you.
 
I’ve been a fan for a long time.
 
A very long time.”

Shatner looked at the hand.
 
“Thanks.”
 
He turned and headed for the exit.
 

The Shatner jumped in front of him.
 
“This may be a bit forward of me, but, my place is just around the corner.
 
Would you care to come over for a…nightcap?”

Shatner looked at himself.
 
Somewhere in the back of his brain was that constant pain but the one-two punch of alcohol and painkillers was taking care of that for now.
 
What the Hell.
 
He had to admit, he was a fine-looking man.

The two went out the bar’s doors together.
 
The Shatner put his (her?) arm around him and guided him away from the bar.

“Give me some sugar baby,” yelled someone from across the street.

Shatner turned around and saw a Shatner wearing a long black coat on the other side of the street.
 
The Shatner threw open the coat and two things were apparent:

1:
 
He was missing his right hand.

2:
 
He was wearing a vest of dynamite.
  

The Shatner began running across the street towards him.
 
Shatner let go of his hook-up and ran to meet him.
 

They met in the middle of the road.
 
William Shatner wrapped one arm tightly around the
Campbellian’s
waist and the other around his neck, and then dipped him low.
 
The Shatner looked up in shock as Shatner stared deeply into his eyes.
 
He kissed him as the bomb went off.

About the Author

Jeff Burk lives in Portland, OR where he edits The Magazine of Bizarro Fiction.
 
He spends much of his time avoiding copyright lawsuits and organizing cat militias.
 
He has never met William Shatner – yet.