The Pulptress Versus The Bone Queen: Blood and Bone
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Authors: Andrea Judy
Tags: #General Fiction
THE PULPTRESS VS. THE BONE QUEEN:
BLOOD AND BONE
by Andrea Judy
Published by Pro Se Press
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters in this publication are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part or whole of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.
Copyright © 2015 Andrea Judy
All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
Prologue
The pale skinned woman waited in her seat as everyone around her began rushing to grab their bags and disembark from the plane. She tugged at the ends of the baggy sweater she wore, and pulled her hair over her face again before glancing over her shoulder at her equally pale companion.
The man nodded absently, murmuring, “Soon.”
Once the crowds began to thin, he pulled out her wheelchair, and put a hand to her hips, supporting her as she sat herself in the chair. He draped a black blanket carefully over her chest and down her legs. He pulled their only carry-on item, a long thin case from the overhead compartment and placed it in her lap before beginning to wheel her off the plane.
The flight attendant rushed over. “Do y’all need any help?” She asked.
He quickly shook his head. “No,” he said flatly, and pushed the wheelchair past her.
The Bone Queen sneered, and didn’t respond as she and her companion reached the Atlanta airport rolling past the gates and throngs of people that gathered around the baggage carrousel. He steered her through the crowds, trying to avoid most of them as he tried to guide them to car rental counter.
She kept her hand on the end of her bag. The gemstone of her sword handle vibrated subtly against her hand, speaking to her, telling her that what she searched for was closer, but still not within grasp.
“Get us a vehicle, Eten,” she directed the man wheeling her around.
He nodded and stirred the wheelchair to the car rental area of the airport.
“Can I help you?” The woman at the counter said.
Eten cleared his throat and handed her a fake driver’s license. “I need to rent a car.”
She smiled, and took his license, and pulled out the stack of paperwork. The woman behind the counter went over the rules and regulations behind renting a car, but Eten’s gaze lingered on the woman in the chair.
“Sir, your signature.” The clerk said.
Eten nodded, signing everything and collecting the keys.
“Have a peachy stay in Georgia!” The clerk said with a smile.
The woman in the chair grunted as Eten wheeled her out to the lot where a sleek black car waited for them.
Lifting the chair up, she shoved it into the trunk of the car before seating herself in the passenger side with her sword in her lap. Eten got into the driver’s side and started up the car. It jerked awkwardly as he slowly sorted out which pedal did what and how to best maneuver the car. He absently rubbed at his elbow where he could feel his skin starting to peel away.
“Where to?” he asked, glancing toward her.
She pulled the blanket off of her legs and stretched. The bones of her rib cage exposed to the warmth of the sun. She glanced at Eten and then to the sword. She held her hand over it for a few moments before pointing, “North.”
He nodded and, as always, blindly obeyed.
They traveled for several hours in total silence. She occasionally pointed a different direction, and Eten served as dutiful chauffeur. The stars had taken over the sky by the time they passed the Epsilon, Georgia sign.
She sat up straighter, “Here. Turn.” She said.
Eten led the car down a dirt road and past a cemetery, and then off of the road through grass and trees. He only stopped when she held up her hand.
Without another word, she got out of the car and began walking across the wooded area. Eten sat behind the steering wheel watching her. He glanced back toward the road, knowing there was nowhere he could hide from her. He took a deep, unnecessary breath before getting out of the car and following behind her.
She walked through the woods with her sword in her hand, weaving through the trees with ease, letting only the stone and the dull light of the moon guide her.
She finally paused and pointed toward what looked like a rundown old church. “Here is where we start,” she said, using her sword to easily pry the door open and step into the long abandoned room.
She walked in slow deliberate steps before finding what she wanted: the entry to the crypt.
A slow, wicked smile curved her face as she descended the stairs. A chill shook through Eten’s long dead body as he followed behind her and watched her begin to dig into the corpses she found in the crypt.
Time had long disintegrated everything but bones in heaps against the crypt floor. She grabbed a rib cage and broke off a tip of bone before popping it into her mouth like candy. The bones slid past her lips and clattered out of her broken, exposed rib cage. She ate bite after bite, moving from body to body and devouring.
As each bone landed a small cloud of dust rose, and from the dust stepped a shambling body. Skin pulled too tight across long dead bones; their eyes saw nothing, and their mouths hung limply open. They shuffled after her, dragging their feet, and waiting her instructions.
Eten stayed back, looking away from the corpses that were too close to being like him. At least he still had his mind, and wasn’t one of those mindless things. She’d been that kind to him.
She turned to the dozen or so corpses she had brought back. “My chiffoniers,” she said, almost fondly, “Dig tunnels and search through this cemetery. Bring me the bones of the dead, and find me the stones that look like this.” She pointed to the hilt of her sword. “Go.”
The corpses nodded, obeying the tasks laid before them. They scrambled through the crypt to begin their slow work of cutting through the dirt and searching the fields. Eten watched them go until she touched his shoulder.
“Come, Eten. We must prepare my chambers and ready for her.” She spat the last word.
Eten’s brows furrowed, his decayed mind confused. “Her?” He asked.
The Bone Queen narrowed her eyes and ran her hand over the chipped rib in her chest. “The Pulptress.”
Chapter 1
When I got a call at three in the morning, the last thing I expected to hear on the line was an unfamiliar voice telling me, "I found your name and number in the hand of a dead man who just came back to life."
I nearly dropped the phone, staring at the ceiling in stunned silence for several long seconds. “Who is this?” I finally asked when my mouth could form words again.
“My name is Jackson,” the woman’s voice answered. “I’m a coroner with the Epsilon Police Department.”
“And how did you get this number?” I asked again trying to think who this could really be, what kind of a set-up this really was.
The woman on the line sighed heavily. "There's a dead man who came back to life, and he had your name and this phone number clutched in his hand. I don't know what it means but-"
"Where are you?" I demanded as I rolled out of my bed in the middle of Atlanta, GA.
I tossed off my pajamas and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, better to look like a disheveled college student than stick out if this was a set up. I never unpacked when I got to this little hotel yesterday. Looks like the leads about the dead coming to life that I’d been chasing down might have found me instead.
There was only one thing I’d ever met that made dead things come back to life, and if that corpse of a woman who had turned my life upside down in Paris nearly a year ago was back trap or not, I wasn’t going to miss the chance to finish her off for good. She’d taken one of my mentors, one of my only friends, killed him and then brought him back to life just to fight me. If that woman calling herself the Bone Queen was back, then I had Amaury to avenge.
“Epsilon, Georgia.” Jackson replied, rattling off an address that I hastily copied onto a coffee-stained napkin on my bedside table.
“Where is that?” I asked around the pen in my mouth. I grabbed my bag of guns and checked over my equipment. Guns, knives, ammo, batons, and a wide range of clothes were still safely packed away in two bags. The Body Box, my personal disappearing trick sat on the bathroom counter still.
Walking over to it, I easily chose a simple disguise, blonde hair, bags under my eyes, and pink lipstick, exhausted college freshmen. The Body Box let me be anyone to anyone so no one knew who they had even been dealing with.
Jackson chuckled faintly, and I got the distinct impression she answered that question on a regular basis. “It’s in the middle of nowhere basically. If you see a Wal-Mart you’ve gone too far,” she said. “It’s off the 318. If you’ve got a GPS, it’ll get you here, just might take you down a couple dirt roads.”
I nodded absently as I threw the Body Box into a bag with my clothes. “I’ll be there before morning.”
“I’ll have a pot of coffee waiting,” Jackson promised before hanging up.
I grabbed my things, and hurried out to my car, shoving everything into the trunk, before hopping into the driver’s seat and carefully putting in the address Jackson had just given me. Estimated time to arrival: three hours. Peeling out of the parking lot, I tore off into the night, ready to finally catch the woman who killed Amaury.
After hitting the first dirt road, I realized that Jackson hadn't been joking about being in the middle of nowhere. The road was cleared but the dirt and gravel laid uneven and my car jumped and jerked.
I finally found a solid road again and slowed down, counting out house numbers until I pulled up in front of the address Jackson had given me.
The sun had just started to rise and cast the little building in an eerie pink-gold light that made the vinyl siding look like flames swallowed the structure whole. It looked like a simple house, though a sign in front of it labeled it as part of the Epsilon Police Department. A single beat up, rusted pickup truck with the license plate ‘DRBONES1 sat in the driveway.
I cleared my throat, and checked my firearm carefully tucked into the pocket of my Georgia State hoodie before I walked straight up to the front door and knocked three times. Lost college student disguise was ready to go.
After a few moments, a young woman opened the door. Freckles dotted across her dark brown skin, and her curly black hair was pushed back behind a hot rod red headband with a large rose just behind her left ear.
The woman looked me over before grinning, “I didn’t think you’d be blonde.” She finally said.
I shifted faintly on my feet, "Jackson?" I asked.
She nodded, “So I’m guessing you might be this Pulptress person?” She said as she offered her hand.
Her hands felt clammy and cold against my palm, and as soon as she let go, I wiped them on my jeans.
"Sorry," Jackson offered. "Sweaty palms when I'm nervous."
"So what happened?" I asked, stepping into the entryway.
Pale tile lined the floor and old wood paneling coated the walls. An empty desk sat at the front with a note that read 'Please ring the bell for service.' I had the distinct impression that no one came here to ring the bell for service.
"Just like I told you on the phone." Jackson collected a clipboard from the desk. "I was about to start doing an autopsy on a John Doe, and the next thing I know he's sitting up."
