Tandem of Terror (39 page)

"I can no longer delay," she said. "I have no
choice." She lunged for Joe as he drew back with fear and closed
his eyes.

A golden glow enveloped him.

The twins opened their eyes and smiled, the
glow surrounding them as well.

Opening his eyes, Joe noticed that he was
still alive and that the glow was keeping the avenger back. She hid
her eyes from it, unable to face the light.

"Sarah McBrey," Joe said. "I apologize to you
for the crimes of my ancestor. Please forgive my family and end
your curse."

The twins giggled and the glow dimmed enough
for the avenger to face Joe one last time. "The curse is ended,"
she said, fading away in a curtain of her own green-yellowish
light.

The twins closed their eyes as the glow
disappeared.

Gina and the twins waited for Joe in the car
as he made his way into the woods, the twins cooing and
giggling.

At the foot of the hill, Joe began to climb.
He entered the woods and cleared away some brush, then dropped to
his knees. Moving the shrubs and grass aside, he at last found the
marker. On a small rough stone was etched:
Sarah McBrey.
Beloved
Daughter
.

He placed a bouquet of flowers down on the
three-hundred-year-old grave and left the woods. A sense of peace
filled him at last.

Unstoppable

Eric S Brown

Matt gripped the AK-47 with white knuckled
hands. He knew the weapon was pretty much useless but it was the
only defense he had. The pounding on the BTR-80's hull grew louder
as if the dead outside somehow sensed his fear. Matt was the sole
survivor of his entire unit. When the three heavily armored
vehicles rolled into Krasnoarmeisk, no one aboard them fully
understood the horror of what they were driving into. It was
supposed to be a search and destroy op. Find those who'd been
exposed to the virus that some jerk in a lab had let get out of
control and clean up the mess. The orders came directly from
Moscow. Everything was supposed to be low profile and hush, hush.
The problem lay in the fact that the virus had already killed its
hosts and returned them to a sort of unlife state of rage.

The unit had disembarked from the armored
carriers, fanning out into the street as they prepared to do a
sweep of the area. The noise of the A.P.C. engines alerted the dead
to their presence and the creatures came pouring from the alleyways
and buildings along the main street. The commanding officer gave
the order to eliminate the horde charging towards the unit's
position. Assault rifles chattered, spitting expended rounds to the
pavement. Matt watched as one of the things took a full clip to the
chest and got back to its feet as if nothing had happened.

The commander saw the unit's fire was
ineffective as well and ordered everyone to go for head shots. Such
a tactic almost always worked in the movies but not it did not in
real life. Even the creatures that lost the entire top half of
their skulls still stumbled forward, grasping for someone or
something to vent their rage upon.

The line was overrun as Matt's commander gave
the order to fall back. The dead swarmed over them. Matt and one
other soldier managed to escape the cold clawing hands of the dead.
Matt had seen the other soldier reach the open door of one of the
A.P.C.s but the man hadn't been able to seal the door in time and
the dead flooded in after him.

Matt was luckier. He had made it inside and
slammed the heavy armored door of the vehicle shut but now he was
trapped. The dead were so great in number and driven by their rage,
they'd flipped the BTR-80 onto its side in the middle of the
street. Matt leaned against the roof of the vehicle and waited.
There was nothing else he could do. The radio was damaged so
calling for help was not an option. His sole hope was that the
things would lose interest and wander off.

The dead had been relentlessly trying to get
to him for over an hour now. He seriously began to doubt that the
things were ever going to go away. He dug around in the near
darkness until he found what he was looking for. The RPG-7's length
was smooth in the palms of his hand as he felt to make sure the
grenade was aimed at the side of vehicle above him. He leaned back
against the ceiling once more and smiled. At least some of the
bastards would be leaving this would with him he hoped. His finger
slid around the weapon's trigger and he jerked it back before he
lost his nerve.

The street was lit up by the fireball of the
exploding vehicle as the dead howled and cried in the night as the
flames washed over them.

Malarath

Eric S Brown

"
What the Hades are you
waiting for?" Shane asked.

Gary took a long drag off his cigarette and
nodded towards the jewelry store across the street from where they
stood.

"
I don't get it. Every month
we come through this neighborhood to collect but we never go in
there. That place makes more cash in a day than most of the
restaurants and stores on our list do in a week."

Shane looked at Gary intently. "Ronford don't
pay us to think. If he wanted us to give that shop a shakedown,
he'd tell us."

"
It just don't make sense.
You know what I'm saying?"

"
Forget it, Gary. We got
work to do." Shane turned and opened the door of the flower shop
they stood in front of. Gary followed him reluctantly still eyeing
the jewelry shop.

A small bell above the flower shop's door
jingled as they entered. Martha looked up from behind the counter
and the smile on her face vanished instantly as she saw who it
was.

Shane walked up to the counter. "This place
just keeps looking nicer and nicer, Martha. How do you do it?"

"
Thank you," Martha answered
nervously. She slid her hand under the counter and produced a gray
envelope which she handed to Gary. He flipped it open and took a
quick count of the cash inside.

"
Don't nobody ever bother
you, do they Martha?" Shane grinned. She shook her head sadly.
"Good. Then see the money's worth it. Let's make sure it stays that
way, okay?"

Shane led Gary back outside the shop as Gary
stuffed the envelope into his coat pocket. Shane stopped on the
street corner to check his list of places to visit today, but Gary
walked on past him without slowing.

"
Hey, what you doing
man?"

"
Taking the
initiative."

Gary crossed the street, heading for the
jewelry shop. Shane cursed heavily under his breath and moved to
follow him.

"
You're going to get us into
some crap too deep to wade out of Gary-boy."

"
Naw, but I might get us a
raise."

Malarath Jewelers was the oldest and most
successful shop on the street. Its windows were filled with high
quality, hand cut gems and sparkling necklaces and bracelets better
suited to Beverly Hills than New Jersey. Unlike the other shops
around it, its doors were made of a thick wood instead of
transparent plexi-glass. Gary pushed them open and sauntered
inside.

Old man Malarath sat on a stool beside a
display rack of pearls. He smiled a nearly toothlessly grin at Gary
and Shane as they entered. His adopted son, John, swept towards
them, eager to greet the new customers.

"
Hello, gentlemen. What can
I help you with today?"

Gary punched him full force in the gut as
Shane pulled the doors of the shop closed behind them. John fell to
the floor gasping for breath.

"
This is a pretty bad
neighborhood to be running a joint like this, wouldn't you say?"
Gary laughed. As John started to get up, Gary kicked him dead on in
the mouth. John went down again, spitting blood and teeth. "What
kind of insurance do you fellows have for your shop? Not the kind
you need, I'm guessing."

Old man Malarath got up. His bones seemed to
creak as he moved. Liverspots covered his skin and the silver hair
atop his head was so thin that Gary could make out the blue of
veins beneath it.

"
I think you boys are making
a mistake," Malarath said, his eyes meeting Gary's. Gary felt a
shiver run down his spine. The old man's eyes were hard and like
ice. "Did Ronford Jr. send you? I bet he didn't."

"
Shut up!" Gary screamed,
pulling a .38 from a holster inside his coat. Gary moved towards
the old man and slammed him up against the nearest wall. He pressed
the .38 into the dangling, wrinkled flesh of the old man's
chin.

"
Frag it," Shane muttered.
"Gary, I don't..."

"
Look, pops, you've gotten
off too long. It's time you paid up like everyone else."

Malarath said nothing but the hurt and anger
he felt was clearly shown on his face. A bruise was already forming
on his skin where Gary's gun poked him. After a moment, he said,
"John, get up and give these gentlemen what they want."

"
That's more like it," Gary
said, "You are a wise man after all, Malarath."

John holding a hand over his bleeding lips,
hobbled over to the cash register and opened it. Suddenly, Malarath
struggled against Gary's grip. "No!" the old man yelled at John,
who yanked a 12 gauge from its hiding place and leveled it at the
intruders. Gary fired twice with blinding speed. His first round
struck John's shoulder and sent the shotgun flying across the
store. His second tore into John's throat as blood sprayed from the
wound.

Shane rushed to the register. He stuffed his
pockets with as much green as he could.

Gary slammed Malarath back against the wall.
"That was stupid, pops! You better keep your mouth shut about what
really went down here or we'll be back, understand?"

He let go of the old man. Shane had already
thrown the doors wide and disappeared down the street. Gary watched
Malarath limp over to his son's body and fall to his knees beside
the cooling body. Tears burned in the old man's eyes but his look
was one of hatred as Gary made for the doors.

"
Tell Ronford, I will be
coming," Malarath sobbed quietly.

Gary chuckled as he ran out onto the street.
He met Shane in an alley several blocks away. Shane was royally
ticked. "Deep trouble, man. I told you so."

Gary waved off Shane's remark. "How much did
we clear?"

Shane pulled out a wad of cash. "Nine
thousand and something."

Gary whistled, "They had that much just
sitting around?"

"
Ronford's going to go crazy
when he finds out what you did."

"
Nine grand," Gary muttered,
"Nine f-ing grand, in one pop."

Jerry Ronford sat behind the desk in his
office above Baal's Paradise. He owned the club and it was rather
successful but really it was just a base of operations for his real
business in the city. He glanced up from a stack of paperwork as
David opened the office door and leaned inside. David stood nearly
seven feet tall and had to duck slightly as he entered, his thick
muscles rippling under the black T-shirt he wore. In a slow, dim
voice he informed Jerry that Shane and Gary were there to see him.
David made a great bodyguard and bouncer but his skills as a
receptionist were often found lacking.

"
Let'em in," Jerry ordered
and went back to his work.

Gary and Shane passed by David's hulking form
and stood in front of Jerry's desk. Gary's earlier bravado was
gone. Both men looked liked kids who'd gotten caught with their
hand in the cookie jar.

"
How do things go
today?"

"
We got a bit over twelve
thousand," Shane said leaning over to lay a stack of envelopes and
a wad of bills on Jerry's desk. Jerry dropped his papers and stared
at them.

"
To what do I owe this
unexpected increase?"

"
I..." Gary started but his
voice cracked. "I added Malarath's to the list."

Jerry pushed back from his desk and rested
his hands on the desk before him.

"
I don't remember telling
you to do that."

"
You didn't," Shane answered
nervously.

"
Things went bad," Gary
added. "I killed the old guy's son."

"
You're on your own with
that," Jerry said calmly.

"
Yes, sir."

"
Shane, find yourself a new
partner. Gary will no longer be in my employ."

David grabbed Gary from behind and snapped
his neck effortlessly. The giant held Gary's body like an odd doll
in his arms.

"
Is that everything I need
to know?"

Shane nodded, watching a trickle of blood
form at the corners of Gary's mouth.

"
You may go then. I will
look forward to seeing you next month."

Shane fled the office as David dropped Gary's
body to the floor.

"
Go get someone to help
clean up this mess!" Jerry snapped at the giant. As the office door
closed, Jerry got up from his seat and paced nervously. The name
Malarath meant something to him but he couldn't quite remember
what.

Jerry stepped over Gary's body and poured
himself a scotch. He downed it in a gulp and poured another.
Malarath. His hand slid unconsciously under his shirt and clutched
the five pointed star which hung on his necklace. He yelped and
pulled his hand away. Burnt into his palm was the was the shape of
the star. At that moment, he remembered where he had heard the
name.