Tentacle Death Trip (3 page)

CHAPTER
FOUR

Yowzah
! I don’t know about you folks but I think
the race got off to a good start,
doncha
think?
Samson shot out like a rocket and was leading for a little bit until old
Drac
decided to usurp the position. So we have
Drac
in first place on his way to the Gears with Samson
right behind him and Gabby after that. Cute little Junko and Mama Hell decided
to go a different route and go through
Mouthville
instead of the Gears. Did you see Mama run over that poor little puppy? Wow,
she’s really bloodthirsty today.
 

*

I.

Junko was excited.

This was his first
race driving solo and it was as intense as he thought it would be. Being in the
car alone, just him and the purring of his machine, well, that was something he
had always dreamt about.

He’d had some
worries, of course. Driving in high heels wasn’t easy and he wished he’d
brought a change of shoes. Maybe he’d find a pair during the race. Weirder
things have happened. He couldn’t drive barefoot. It hurt his feet and he
didn’t want to mess up his pedicure.

A cough erupted
from his throat and a clump of hair and bile oozed onto his tongue. Junko
swallowed it all back down. After all, he wanted it to come out the other end.

He followed Mama Hell’s
minivan into
Mouthville
, a place that could
accurately be described as a dusty forest. During the war it had been a
military training facility but was now overrun with mutated animals and
radioactive dust.

“Okay, Mama
bitch
, here’s where you get off!” Junko said, driving up and
tapping the minivan on the left corner of its fender. He sped up to the other
side and tapped it again.

Mama Hell stepped
on the brakes and Junko took that opportunity to sneak up alongside the left
and pass her, giving her the finger as he did so. “Fuck you!”

Junko left the
minivan in his dust as he sped down the road, swerving to avoid the road kill.
He was going to win that race for sure. He had to. If he won it, he’d get the
respect he deserved. He had always had to stand behind someone else, always had
to ride on someone’s coattails but not now, no.

As he passed the
trees, Junko thought he saw something move between them. It was too big to be
an animal or a person. If he didn’t know better he would have thought it was a
tornado.

He looked in his
rearview and saw Mama Hell thirty-feet behind him. It didn’t even seem like she
was trying to get closer to him. What was she up to?

Junko saw the
thing in the trees again but this time it rose above them and was approaching.
It
was
a tornado and it was coming closer. Junko started to hug the left
side of the road but was worried that he’d be leaving Mama Hell enough room to
pass him.

That’s when the
twister came straight for him, engulfing his car. It sounded like a million
pebbles pelting the outside. It was a tornado, yes, but there was something
different about this one.

It was a tornado
with
teeth
.

The small cyclone
was twisting around Junko’s car, scraping the paint off with its teeth of all
shapes and sizes. Some were white teeth, some were yellow and brown but all
were razor sharp. Soon he could hear it scrapping the metal and making holes.

He stepped on the
brakes and swerved over to the right, hitting Mama Hell’s car as she tried to
pass him and avoid the twister at the same time. As the teeth still rocked his
car, Junko saw flashes of light. He looked over and saw that old bitch shooting
flares at him.

Junko sped up and
swerved to the right to get in front of her and out of the tornado’s way. After
his third attempt he was successful but the flares kept coming and he started
to smell something burning.

One of the old
bitch’s flares caught the top of his car and was burning a hole through it. He
lifted himself off the seat, holding the wheel with one hand while trying to find
the burn hole with the other. There it was right over the passenger’s seat. He
rummaged through his supplies and brought out a small pack of fireproof putty.
He slapped some on the hole and brought his hand back to the wheel.

The teeth tornado
was behind him now and so was Mama Hell. Junko stepped on the gas and tried to
get as far away as possible, not caring about the road kill despite the fact
that the bones of those mutant animals could do major damage to the underside
of an automobile.

In his rearview
mirror he saw Mama Hell try to drive out of the twister which was now engulfing
her minivan. “
Haha
, you old bitch,” Junko said. That
woman thought she was going to disrespect him but now she knew who’d get the
upper hand.

II.

Six Months Ago

Sabbath bought
Junko for ten gallons of gasoline and a motorcycle equipped with a chainsaw.

Junko thought he
was worth more but that’s all Sabbath was willing to dish out for a Japanese
transvestite who was going to act as sex slave and navigator during long trips
through the Wastelands. Such was life after the war. Weak flesh was bought and
sold, used as currency among the degenerate or the desperate. Body Stations
were set up throughout the wasteland where people could buy, sell, and trade
humans weaker than themselves: men, women, and children. Nothing was off
limits.

The war had left
Junko a twelve-year-old orphan but that had been ten years ago. He wasn’t going
to let that loss get in the way of his survival. When he saw that Sabbath was
the one who had bartered for him, Junko wasn’t pleased as the man was one of
the most grotesque looking things he’d ever seen. But Junko was going to be a
winner and if that meant giving blowjobs to a deformed giant who drove around
in a truck with radioactive goats, then so be it.

The torture seemed
endless. Sabbath was an oversexed brute who was willing to defile his new slave
in every way possible. He had practically destroyed Junko’s rectum, so much so
that he had to bring in a man named Doctor
Solange
who did sloppy surgery and widened Junko’s anus until it resembled a vagina.
Sabbath was happy with the result.
 
Doctor
Solange
accepted payment in the form of
being able to have first crack at the modified hole.

The torture wasn’t
simply sexual. Junko was beaten with fists, pipes, and baseball bats. He was
cut with swords, knives, and car parts. Most of the time he had only Sabbath’s
urine to drink but it was occasionally mixed with water or fruit juice. His
food consisted of whatever meat had spoiled so much that Sabbath wouldn’t eat
it himself. Sometimes the meals included feces and shredded leather topped with
phlegm.
 
Junko soon learned to eat
everything with relish because if there was any hesitation or show of distaste
for what Sabbath gave him, a brutal beating was inevitable.

For years, Junko
had made peace with his position as Sabbath’s sex slave and map reader. He
fulfilled his duties obediently until he heard two words that would change
everything.

“Jap
cunt
!”
Sabbath said.

Hearing those two
words was an epiphany to Junko. He’d been called each of those words separately
but their being combined made him realize just how Sabbath saw him.

“Yes?”

“Wake the fuck up.
We
gotta
go to Columbus
and race
Drunky
Booster. You lean your head over here
in case I
gotta
piss, got it?”

Junko nodded and
laid his head down on his master’s lap. He was handcuffed to the steering
wheel. “I’m all yours, Sabbath.”

“Nothing but a Jap
cunt
, you know that? Piece of shit,” Sabbath said,
sending a fist down on the side of Junko’s head. He started the car and pulled
out onto the road, speeding down the deserted highway.

“Yes,
Sabbath.”
Junko smirked. He had dreamt about earning his freedom,
earning his right to move from the passenger seat to the driver’s. Sabbath had
always told him that
Japs
can’t drive but Junko knew
that wasn’t true.

“What the hell you
smiling for, bitch?” Another fist landed on Junko’s temple.

“Nothing.”

“You better tell
me or I’ll beat your ass,” Sabbath growled. “You don’t want to know what
happened to my last slave.”

“Oh, but I do,”
Junko said and then bit down on Sabbath’s leg. Not bad for a Jap
cunt
.

“Fuck!”

It was a good
thing Sabbath only wore a codpiece as many marauders did after the war. Junko
was biting directly into flesh.

The car swerved
into a concrete divider but Junko pulled the steering wheel straight while
biting down harder. He ignored the fits as they pummeled his head, neck, and
back. Sabbath even pulled at Junko’s hair, tearing several clumps right out of
his skull. There was pain, yes, but the pain turned pleasurable because he knew
he was enduring it for a reason. It was for freedom.

Sabbath stepped on
the brakes and the car spun across the road. Junko’s teeth didn’t budge and
soon his mouth was inches deep in leg meat.

Junko’s loose hand
flew up to Sabbath’s neck and his glittery fingernails dug into his jugular,
opening a fountain of blood all over the dashboard. The big man gargled and
took his hands off the wheel. Junko pulled his mouth out of the thigh flesh.

“What did you do
to your last slave, Sabbath?” Junko asked the bleeding hulk.

“
Baaaabaaaaaaapffffffttttttttttt
!”

“WHAT DID YOU DO
TO HIM?”

Sabbath looked him
in the eyes and said, “Gave him a
lupara
enema…”

Junko had heard
Sabbath talk about that from time to time, putting a sawed off shotgun to someone’s
ass and pulling the trigger. Junko dug his fingers in deeper into the man’s
neck. It was all over for Sabbath.

Junko managed to
stop the car, dump the body, and find the key to the handcuffs. Instead of
taking them completely off, he decided to separate the cuffs and wear them to
remind himself of his short-lived slavery. It would remind him he never had to
settle for domination. They would be jewelry of freedom.

He drove the car
back to Sabbath’s place, a small fortress in a junkyard, and started packing
supplies into the Honda Civic he had been working on in the little free time
Sabbath had given him. That’s when the armored limousine pulled up and a short
man walked up to the gate.

“Hey! You there in
the dress! Is Sabbath here?”

Junko put his hand
on a small sword and said, “Why? Who are you?”

“I’m a
representative of Mr. Silver.”

Junko had heard
about Silver: a gangster warlord taking advantage of people after the war. He’s
the one who organized some of Sabbath’s races. Silver was also behind most of
the Body Stations.

“I work for Mr.
Sabbath. What do you want?”

The man tapped on
the gate. “Can I come in?” Junko nodded and walked over to let him in but still
had the sword at his side.

Junko said,
“What’s this about?”

“If you don’t
mind, I’d like to talk directly to Sabbath about it. No offense to you, miss,”
he said, eying Junko’s legs.

“Well, how about
you tell me and I’ll put in a good word for you.” Junko winked at the man
knowing his sex appeal was going to win the conversation. He rubbed the back of
his hand on
Enzo’s
crotch.
“So how
about it?”

“
Yowzah
….”

And that’s how
Junko entered the race in lieu of Sabbath.

CHAPTER
FIVE

Yowzah
! What an exciting race so far with Junko
getting caught in a teeth storm and Mama Hell trying to navigate through the
sloppy seconds. While they’re trying to get through
Mouthville
,
the rest of the racers are entering the Gears and you know what that means! The
gear bugs will be out in droves ready to put a glitch in our dear racers’
plans. It looks like
Drac
Dunwich
and Samson
are
head to head but young hotshot Gabby
Peppermint is not far behind.

*

I.

Gabby Peppermint
was already sick of the race.

In particular she
was sick of the other drivers. To her, they were just nobodies going after the
prize
she
wanted. It was the story of her life: people trying to take
what was rightfully hers, stealing the spotlight from her, trying to make their
pathetic lives important.

She kept her
Camaro
at a constant speed because she wanted to let the
two dumb-asses in front of her fight it out. She’d study their driving and
figure a way to exploit their weaknesses. People always thought she was stupid
on account of her being blonde but Gabby knew she had brains behind the beauty.

She was going to
use those brains to kill those assholes and win the race.

Gabby had never
driven through the Gears before. Her first impression was that it looked like a
shit-hole, like a giant junkyard. Houses were covered in metal, car parts,
faded porcelain signs, and unidentifiable jetsam. It reminded Gabby of the
pathetic garage sales her mom always dragged her to as a child.

While she kept her
eyes on
Drac
and Samson, something jumped out in
front of her car. Gabby swerved but hit it anyway.

“Oh
my god, what the hell?”
Why did everything have to be so difficult? She
was sick of things getting in the way of her happiness.

Whatever she had
hit was now on top of her car. A face dropped down in front of the windshield.
Gabby screamed but it was more out of frustration than out of fear.

It was a gear bug,
a victim of radioactivity with limbs missing only to have been replaced by
machine parts. This one in particular had a sprocket instead of a left eye and
a head full of wire instead of hair. His fingers were rusty copper talons.

“Get off my car,
asshole!” Gabby swerved across the road several times to get the gear bug off
the roof but it held on and was slowly making its way to the passenger side
window.

Gabby slammed on
the brakes and the thing on the roof flew off onto the road in front of her.
She put her car into park and screamed.

That freak on the
road was going to die. She wasn’t going to let some asshole make a fool of her
in front of everybody. People were watching her, expecting her to be the
winner, the princess, the only one who deserved any attention.

She was the only
Sweet Sixteen.

Gabby pulled her
something out of her backseat and stepped out of the car. In her hands was a
pink sledgehammer.
“Hey asshole!”
She ran up to the
gear bug that was doing his best to stand up despite his injuries.

Heaving the hammer
over her shoulder, Gabby sent it flying into the bug’s face. His head exploded.
Blood, skull, oil, and wire decorated onto the asphalt. From behind her, Gabby
heard metallic footsteps. More gear bugs were approaching.

“Come on,
fuckers!”

They ran out like
hungry roaches, scurrying around her.
Gabby’s
face
was red, her hands trembling with fury. There was no way those assholes were
leaving alive. If they took one step near her, they were all going to be
crushed.

One ran forward, a
woman this time, one with a ribcage made of steering wheel parts. She whistled
through plastic teeth. Her metallic face flattened as the sledgehammer hit.

Another ran up
behind Gabby and cut her with a rusty piece of metal that was shaped like a
fish. Gabby elbowed him and gave a quick jab with the hammer that exposed flesh
stitched together with fine wire. She jabbed again but this time with more
power. His chest caved in. One more hit and he was squealing towards death.

The three
remaining gear bugs were reluctant now. Gabby taunted them, daring them to come
get a taste of what their comrades had. She knew they had given up and were
just saving face by sticking around. With a scowl she walked back to her car
and sped away.

“Better luck next
time, assholes!” she screamed out the window. She almost wished they had
attacked her. It would have been sweet to kill a few more worthless pieces of
shit. She just hoped the audience liked her performance. There better had been
some cameras around catching that action. If there weren’t, someone would have
to pay with their lives. After all, she hadn’t exerted herself for nothing. She
deserved to be a star.

II.

Ten Years Ago

It was on the eve
of her Sweet Sixteen Party when the news hit: all the major nations in the
world were preparing for war.

Nuclear
war.

The
United States
.
China.
North Korea. Pakistan.
India. Great
Britain. Hell, even Japan
was throwing its hat in the ring despite its tragic history with nukes.

Gabby couldn’t
care less. War or no war, it didn’t matter to her. What mattered was that it
was taking attention away from her big day. She was turning sixteen. Sweet
Sixteen! But now everyone was talking about the war and how it could be the end
of the world.

Who fucking cared,
right?

Her parents had
planned a huge party for her. They had rented a hall and everything. A limo was
going to pick Gabby up and take her to the party while her friends watched in
awe as she showed off her eight-hundred dollar dress her father had bought her.

She knew some of
her friends talked behind her back, calling her a spoiled brat and “daddy’s
little princess” but what good was her father if he wasn’t going to buy her things?
After all, she’d given her parents the gift of having such a beautiful daughter
so the least they could do was give her what she wanted, even if that meant
accruing monstrous debt. But Gabby wasn’t concerned. It was
their
debt
and they shouldn’t have had kids if they didn’t want to max out their credit
cards.

Gabby had woken up
that morning, smiling at the thought that it was her sixteenth birthday and the
whole day would be all about her. It wouldn’t be about her friends, her little
sister, her grandparents, her parents, or anyone else in the whole world. It
would be her day and hers alone. No one was going to change that but if they
tried, she’d throw a fit.

“Mom!
I want a cappuccino!” she yelled from her bed. There was no answer.
“Mom!”

She wanted to
sleep in, have breakfast in bed, and relax before having to get ready for her
party. But where was her mother? She should be standing at the foot of the bed
awaiting
Gabby’s
orders.

“Mom!” she yelled
louder.
“MOM!”

There was still no
answer but this time Gabby heard muffled voices. Now she knew what was
happening. Her family was planning to surprise her. Gabby quickly fixed her
hair and sat up in bed, waiting for them to come in with a full gourmet
breakfast and the first round of gifts.

She waited for ten
minutes but no one came.

“MOM!”

Fuck, she’d just
have to go downstairs to see what the hell was keeping them from giving her the
attention she deserved. She stepped out of bed angrily, making sure to stomp on
the floor loud enough so her family could get ready for the shit storm she was
going to unleash.

When she got to
the living room, she saw her parents and sister huddled by the television
watching a news report.

“What the hell’s
going on?” Gabby said. “You people don’t even come up to wish me a happy
birthday? It’s my Sweet Sixteen!”

Her mother turned
around and put her finger to her mouth. “
Shhhhh
!
Look.”

On the television
there were images of mushroom clouds, rubble, bodies in wheel barrels, people
crying, politicians shaking their heads, solemn newscasters, protests, planes
dropping bombs, and other short clips of destruction.

“What’s going on?”
Gabby said, walking up behind her family. “You’re watching the news?
On my birthday?
It’s my Sweet Sixteen!”

Her dad turned
around, “Gabriella, quiet!”

Gabby grunted.
“Losers.”
She went into the kitchen but instead of the
elaborate breakfast she expected to find, she found half-eaten toast. She
stomped her foot and started rummaging through the kitchen.

The volume on the
television got louder.
“
North Korea
retaliated, dropping a yet unidentified biological weapon over
Manhattan
….”
 

Gabby’s
mother gasped. She turned to her husband and saw
his eyes widen in horror. But his it wasn’t the horror on the television he was
reacting to. It was the knife severing his throat.

The birthday girl
stood behind him, using a kitchen knife to saw her father’s head off. Her
mother and sister screamed, falling backward in shock. Gabby pulled the blade
away and stabbed it down into her mother’s face.

Her parents were bleeding
out on the floor while her little sister cried hysterically, scooting away
backwards on the floor. “Gabby, Gabby! What are you doing?”

“Shut up, Tara!”
She jumped on her little sister and sat on her chest. “Mom and Dad were losers.
Can’t you see? It’s my Sweet Sixteen and what were they doing? They were
watching the fucking news!”

As she straddled Tara,
she felt something in her pocket. “What’s this?” Gabby pulled something out.
“You used my
iPod
?
Again?
I
told you to keep your fucking hands off it!”

Gabby pulled the
headphones off the
iPod
and wrapped them around her
sister’s throat, squeezing and squeezing until the girl was turning blue. She
let go of the wire and let her sister catch a breath.

“Thank you,” Tara
whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes.

“For
what?”
Gabby said, grabbing the headphone wires again and started to
squeeze again.
Gabby’s
face grew deep red as she
killed her little sister. “It’s my Sweet Sixteen!”

After disposing of
her family in the cellar, she called her friends but no one picked up. Was
everyone abandoning her on her special day?

She prepared her
own breakfast, something she had never done before. It was strange but she did
the best she could and sat down in front of the television.

“Shit!” she said
as she realized there was nothing on except news reports. In frustrated rage,
Gabby put in a DVD of
Sex and the City
.

She thought of her
dead family downstairs and mumbled, “It’s my Sweet Sixteen.”