ECOPOCALYPSE CH.6 - CALL IT QUITS

ECOPOCALYPSE CH.6 - CALL IT QUITS By

“You got that right,” Sneedon says. “Artie is out baying for blood. Your blood.”

“What do you mean?” Madge asks before you can even formulate the question yourself.

“My man at the West Wing says China, Russia and the entire Arab nation wants your head on a platter. They’re having their own problems and the only way they can placate their citizens is to ask for your public execution.”

You gulp.

“Oh… uh… I can understand that.” You stand up. “Well in that case I’d better head over and give myself up.”

Madge stares at you. “You serious?”

“I… well… um. I did cause it…” You smile uncertainly. “I’ll pop over to the White House and do it publicly.”

Madge begins to stand up. “I’ll come with you.”

You shake your head. “No, you stay here, sis. You’re safe here and you can help get the changes rolled out. I’ll zip over in my ‘copter.”

Every one in the room stares at you and you slide out the door like a slug from a lettuce; slowly and carefully, looking around to make sure no one is following you.

As the door shuts, you hear Sneedon say: “What’s he up to?”

“I don’t know.” Madge replies. “Before today I would have said that he was going to run away, but after what I’ve seen him doing to fix this catastrophe today, I think he might just do it.”

You sigh with relief and head up to the roof.

As you take off, you try to think what you are actually going to do. You can’t go and hand yourself in, that would mean you’d end up… at best… in jail for the rest of your life. At worst, the new president (being the bastard that he is) would probably hand you over to the Middle East for execution.

“I’m too young to die.” You murmur, heading north as slowly as you can. “Why should I die for something that wasn’t my fault? It was the board’s money pinching that caused all this…”

A sudden blast of air pushes the ‘copter to one side and you see a pair of jets coming round to flank you. The radio crackles.

“ECOGen One. You are instructed to keep pace with us. We will land at the Airforce base where you will be taken into custody. Over.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! What do you do now? There’s no way this little helicopter can outrun F16’s.

Experimentally you weave a little and predictably, the radio crackles into life again.

“ECOGen One. Do not try to resist arrest. We have orders from the president to shoot if you run. Over.”

Damn. You’re dead either way. How on earth do you… an idea occurs and you take a deep breath, slapping the radio button on the joystick.

“ECOGen One to escort. I’m low on gas and I can’t keep up with you. Over.”

You let your airspeed drop and the jets slow as well. Now what speed was a stall for this helicopter? Oh, that’s right… Now if you can just bring her to rest somewhere safe and get away from the jets before they can react.

“ECOGen One. We will keep pace with you. Keep moving forward. Over.” The pilot seems more than a little pissed off.

A field bounded by a large wood appears and you let your airspeed drop further, feeling the craft shudder and the nose tip upward. Now, if you just…

A whoosh of air on both sides of the helicopter buffets it from side to side and the resulting turbulence  knocks the pitch of the blades awry.

“Thanks Escort, that was a great help…Not!” you snap into the radio as you fight to keep the craft level. You speed up a little, but the turbulence from the low flying, circling jets as well as the wind scrables your pitch further and…

Shit! Not  retreating blade stall, anything but that, you’re too close to the fucking ground to…

The helicopter tilts left.

Time slows.

You drop the controls hoping that the autocorrect will kick in, but the tilt continues and you watch the advacing blade bite into the soft earth of the field. It ploughs into it deeply and you fight with you harness, hoping to get free of the helicopter before…

The blade snaps.

The suddenly freed rotor spins faster and the second advancing blade follows the first. The helicopter cartwheels and the tail rotor comes into contact with the ground. The tail snaps off, there are sparks and a sudden plume of fire heralds the fact that the fuel line has bought it.

Your harness lets go and you tumble out of the craft, a sudden flare of hope making time speed up again. As you hit the grass and turn to try and run, the helicopter’s body is catapulted toward you by the fire from the tail.

“Oh shit…” you moan.

* * *

“Well that was anticlimactic.” President Gantly says having reviewed the pilot’s footage of the air accident. “I was looking forward to listening to the idiot’s explanation of his company’s antics in this matter. Besides, I wanted to shoot him myself.”

He turns to an aide. “Was there anything recovered?”

The aide nods. “We have his head. It was apparently chopped off by a stray piece of rotor, long before the helicopter actually hit him.”

Gantly smiles, a red glint showing in his eye. “Did Doctor Skin take it?”

The aide looks faintly sick. “Yes, Mr. President. He’s working on the process now.”

“Good.”

You wake up.

You’re vaguely aware that the sun has risen. Shades of pink paint the inside of your eyelids, while the memory of last night is a blur of fire and dirt coloured nightmare. You just want to sleep it off, but your eyes are forced open by insistant fingers.

“Welcome back. Although I’m not sure how welcome you are going to be.” A face with a surgeons mask and cap appears in your eyeline.

“Where am I?” Your voice has a vaguely artificial sound. “Why can’t I feel anything?”

“Good, he’s awake.” President Gantly’s braying baritone brings you fully awake. “Turn him so he can see me.”

You are turned and liquid swirls in front of your eyes. “What the shit?”

“Shit is right. You’re in it.” The president stands and moves up close. He looks a little green and you realise this is because you are in a glass vat of green liquid.

“I appear to be in water.”

“Shut up. You didn’t survive intact, but Dr Skin is a genius when it comes to brains and revival. You shall pay for your crimes… more than once.”

“What?” Gantly is right in front of you so you can’t see what’s behind him. “What on god’s green earth are you talking about Arthur?”

“This.” He steps aside and you blink in astonishment. Behind him, in shackles stand rows and rows of you.

“You cloned me? Why?”

“I wasn’t about to let you get away with dying cleanly in an air accident. Every single country of the world has a grievance against you…”

“What, even Taiwan?” you quip, feeling more worried by Gantly’s smile than the clones. “Wow, we’re a good looking bunch, aren’t we. Ladies beware.”

“Enough. Each Clone is wi fi’d into what is left of your nervous system,” He picnches the clone closest to him. You wince, feeling the sharp pain. “you will feel the pain that the clone is put through.”

“But…”

Gantly plows on relentlessly. “As you have been sentenced to death in every single country of the world, you are going to die one hundred and ninety six times. I hope you survive, because after that, I am going to make your afterlife hell.”

Oops...Return to Chapter 6

ECOPOCALYPSE CH.4 - TO THE HOSPITAL!

ECOPOCALYPSE CH.4 - TO THE HOSPITAL!
By Mandy Ward

The Helicopter dips as you momentarily lose control from shock. How could it get this bad? What on earth is causing this?

As usual, Milo reads your mind.

Milo shudders. “What the hell is causing this, man? We did all those tests and there were no malfunctions or side effects from the prototypes. Shit, we even had a whole fricken town testing them for a whole year!”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to get close to an Environaut recently, so how the fuck would I know?” you point out irritably as you wrestle the ‘copter back into stable flight.

“So what’s the plan?” Milo is jiggling his right foot and tapping his left hand on his left knee.

You ignore the annoying movement and concentrate on flying. “Not sure at the moment. I know that I’m not going to run away from this until I’ve had a damn good look at what’s causing it.”

Milo laughs. “Man, you’ve got so much money stashed all over the place that you could just go to ground. Why not let the Government sort it out?”

Glancing at him, you realise that his eyes have glazed slightly and his skin is looking far too yellow, even for an Asian.

You frown. “Did you use the john this morning before I woke up?”

“Yeah.” Milo’s voice is starting to sound slurred. “Man, I don’t feel so good.”

“Shit! Shit…just…shit!” you give yourself over to a bout of swearing as you swing the ‘copter around in the direction of the Iscariot Hospital. “Hang in there, buddy, I’ll get you to my sister at Iscariot.”

“Thanks.” Milo wipes a dribble of brown away from the corner of his mouth. “You got anything to drink in this thing? I’m parched.”

“Sorry, Milo. I don’t allow food or drink in here.” Risking a glance at your friend’s face, you increase your airspeed. I have got to get him well; I can’t fix the Environaut without him. Using the auto pilot for a moment, you text your sister about Milo. Her answer is predictable:

He’s a shit anyway; it’s just like finding like. Bring him in. We need a guinea pig that isn’t too far along for the treatments we’re developing.

Smiling, you put your phone away and take control of the ‘copter back from the auto pilot. “Madge says they’re developing a treatment. Trust her to be on the ball!”

“Yeesssrrrgh” Milo gurgles. Brown liquid is dribbling from the corners of his eyes.

“I just hope I can get you there before you try to attack me.”

“Yeesssrrrgh”

Dropping the helicopter cleanly onto the helipad at the hospital, you scramble out as the rotors slow.

A group of ER nurses rush out with an odd looking trolley. It’s one of those metal cages that the hospital uses to transport boxes and bags around the place, but it’s been covered in acrylic sheets and reinforced with metal. There’s a soft looking waterproof mattress on the base of the cage, and a bottle of some kind of gas attached to the side.

All the nurses are wearing hazmat suits, and they bundle Milo out of the helicopter and into the cage before he has a chance to complain. The door is bolted and one of the nurses turns the tap on the gas canister.

A loud hissing fills the air and Milo’s eyes droop before he collapses to rest on the mattress.

“Anaesthetic?” you ask anxiously.

One of the nurses turns towards you. “We’ll keep him sedated. It seems to slow down the rate of decay and hopefully it will give us time to administer the treatments."

You blink. It isn’t a nurse, it’s your sister. “Madge? Why are you in one of those?”

“Why do you think I am? It’s an airborne contagion, you idiot!” she marches towards you. “You had to go and invent something that turns people into Golgothans, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you just have gone and been an astronaut or a surgeon?” Madge looks upset.

“What’s happened?” you ask, moving closer.

The rest of the nurses wheel Milo away. Madge links her arm through yours and pulls you along behind them.

“Have you used a toilet this morning?” she asks.

“Not yet.”

“Have you been in close contact with any of the affected people?” Madge is strangely insistent.

“Did you not see the news this morning, Sis? They invaded my house and flung poop at us.” You snap back. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

“I’ve been dealing with the results of your little invention. Did you realise that three quarters of the patients I’ve had in the last two weeks have had a significant level of mercury in their systems?” she blinks. “Mum was one of them.”

“Oh.” You can’t think of anything else to say. You might have been estranged from your parents since going to college, but that doesn’t mean that you didn’t care about them.

”She died.” It wasn’t a question and you blink back the tears. “Time enough to grieve later, little bro.” Madge pats your shoulder. “Did you ingest any of the feces thrown at you?”

You gag a little at that thought. “I don’t think so. I hope not.”

“We’ll run some tests on you and put you through decontamination.” She eyes the suit you’re wearing. “A pity we’ll have to dissolve the suit in acid, but it’s the safest way to do it; burning just puts the infection vector back into the air.”

Two hours later you are pronounced safe from infection and, dressed in a set of scrubs and a hazmat suit, you are allowed to visit Milo with your sister.

“Hey man!” you wave at him inside his plastic encased cage.

He raises his head and you stumble back at the rage in his eyes and the brown, foul smelling sludge dribbling from his eyes, nose and mouth. He’s wearing nothing but a hospital gown, and there is brown gunk everywhere around him.

“He’s been through decon and had the treatment.” She gestures at a second gas canister. “It’s just a case of waiting now.”

“How many people have you cured?” You ask, feeling guilty.

She looks sad. “No one yet.”

Ushering her out and down the corridor to her office, you fire questions at her. “Do you know exactly what is causing this? Why do they start spitting up brown slush? What is it that the Environaut has done to cause this? Am I liable for any of this? Is Dad all right? What about animals? How widespread is it?”

She shuts the office door behind you and pushes you down into a seat. You unzip your hazmat suit and push it down to your waist in relief. Phew these things are hot.

Madge just unzips the hood.

“You’re a stupid excuse for an intelligent man,” she snaps. “The mercury in the Environaut’s coolant system is causing the zombie state. It’s affecting the brain in a completely new way, and there’s not much we can do to counteract it. The treatment we’ve come up with works about fifty percent of the time.”

You remember what Milo was swearing about. “Shit. The mother fucking board interfered with the design specs! They must have used the older design internally and the new design externally.” You collapse back against the chair. “What about the sludge?”

“That’s the remains of their internal organs; they go into rapid decay for some reason. While our treatment has been successful against the zombification, humans can’t live when they don’t have a heart, lungs or nervous system.” She raises an eyebrow as you dive for the waste paper bin and throw up in it.

Wiping your mouth on your sleeve, you turn back to her. “Why is that happening?”

“We don’t know. And the only way we’re going to be able to find out is to take samples from a working Environaut.”

“Aren’t there any in the hospital?”

She snorts. “You have got to be kidding. The hospital board vetoed acquiring Environauts when you refused to discount the price per unit.”

But that wasn’t me! That was the board; I remember fighting them on it six months ago. You swear in fluent Russian.

“Enough of that.” Madge aims a slap at the back of your head and you duck. “To answer the rest of your questions, if it was an internal fault that caused this then yes, you are liable. Dad is fine; he’s on his yacht in the Pacific. Animals don’t seem to be susceptible and it’s happening everywhere that your invention has penetrated.” She folds her arms. “So what are you going to do about it?”

You walk over to her office window. Outside the hospital, the numbers of shit covered zombies are growing, hunting down anyone still capable of movement. You remember Hal at EcoGen. “How are you keeping them out?”

Madge joins you at the window. “All the doors from the ground are locked. We have a thousand or so patients in here that we can’t risk. That’s why we’re keeping those brought in by helicopter up here in isolation.”

“How do you get supplies?”

“The Army airlifts them in.”

“What the hell can I do about this?” you wail. “Milo is the engineering genius. I’d need all the plans and a lab, not to mention…” you trail off and stare at your sister. “Will he survive?”

There’s a knock at the door and a nurse in a hazmat suit hurries in. “Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Tebid–Fewmet, but the patient is asking for your sibling.”

The two of you suit up.

“I don’t know why you haven’t gone back to your maiden name, that bastard is long gone,” you say, zipping Madge’s hood up for her. “Besides, his name is almost as ugly as his face.”

She shrugs and stalks away down the corridor after the nurse.

Milo is sitting cross legged on the mattress. Brown slush has dried in long streaks down his body and, looking at the state of the cage, you’re glad for the canned air in your suit. That place must reek.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“You have to fix the damn machine. I know what’s wrong, but I don’t think I have enough time left to help you.” Milo coughs and a deluge of brown gunge splashes over his legs.

He ignores it. “First you have to get everyone to cut the power to the machines; that will stop anyone else being affected. Then you have to destroy the main processing plant. The fuckers on the board must have used mercury in there as well; the presence of mercury in the individual units would just cause toxification, not all this as well.” He waves a hand at the slurry around him.

You blink. “Did you understand that, Madge?”

She nods. “I can call the President to order a shutdown of the power plants. That’s the fastest way to kill the power to the machines.”

“Milo, how do we fix the Environaut?” you ask your oldest friend.

“My notes…” he coughs, “…at the lab… change the… coolant and…” a veritable flood of decayed internal organs emerges from his mouth. He slumps to the floor of the cage and the light goes from his eyes.

You find yourself crying. Poor bugger. What a horrible way to go.

Madge steers you back to her office. “Let’s get this sorted out.

So what do I do first? You think, sitting down while Madge makes her phone call. Destroy the main processing plant or pick up Milo’s notes? Or shall I just call it a day and do a Dad?
What's next?

A. Do you head to the marina for your yacht and join your dad in the pacific until it all blows over?
B. Do you try to retrieve Milo's notes from the lab in the hope that they hold the key to saving your hide?
C. Do you assemble a team to destroy the Main Processing Plant?

HARDWOOD BLOOD CH.2 - CALL IT A NIGHT

BLOOD ON THE HARDWOOD CONCRETE CH.2 - CALL IT A NIGHT

By Mandy Ward

Sighing, you put yourself between Curly and the Flasher. “Don’t bother. He’s not worth the effort.” 

“What now?” Sweet Lou’s lip curls and he looks like that cur dog you ran past to get here.

“I asked you to help me find this bastard that likes to gut whores, so go and see what you can find ‘im.” You sigh again and whip out the handcuffs. “I’ll take this misshapen idiot into the station and meet you back at Gino’s in a couple of hours.”

The Sweetwater nods. “Sure. You need any help?”

Hauling the flasher up by the wrists, you snort. “You think I need help with him? Come on, I’m a cop, not a Meter maid.”

 

The Trotters laugh and lope off up the alley, already discussing how they’re going to proceed.

The Flasher groans and you suppress the urge to puke as you wrap his Mac around him and tie the belt up. “Come on. I’m arresting you on the charge of indecent exposure…” You drag him back the way you came reciting the Miranda in a low mutter, hoping that you can find a uniform to take him in so you can get back to some real police work. That sets you thinking about the case, and you lapse into silence.

Just before you reach the entrance to the alley, the flasher takes advantage of your distraction and pulls his wrists out of your hand.

“You want me, pig? You’ll have to kill me to take me in.” He stands there, garbage juice running off his Mac and stinking to high heaven. 

“Don’t be stupid. You won’t get more’n a slapped wrist for indecent exposure. Why would I want to kill you?” You step closer, trying hard not to breathe his breath, which smells like rotting meat.

“I won’t be going anywhere, Flatfoot.” He seems incredibly calm for someone trying to commit suicide. “You’ll have to put me in a body bag to get me anywhere near the station.”

You step closer. “I haven’t got time for this.” Grabbing at his wrists, you manage to catch the belt of his Mac, and it falls open again. You avert your eyes, but not before you catch sight of a change to his body.

“Go on Campo, take a good long look. It’ll be the last thing you ever see.” He thrusts his hips out at you, waving what had been a scar at you.

“What the hell?” You step backwards and find yourself up against a rusty dumpster.

The creep moves closer. “You want a taste of me, cop? Well I’m feeling good and generous tonight. I’ll let you sample my delights.” He slides his hands out of the cuffs and drops them to the floor as he moves in close enough that you can feel… it …brushing against your groin.

His eyes capture yours and you feel your will draining away as his mouth opens. “I’m gonna feast on you tonight, like you in that restaurant earlier. I’m gonna savour every last mouthful and I won’t need a knife and fork.”

There’s the sound of ripping fabric as it tears through your clothes and plunges into the plentiful flesh.

Pain erupts and you scream—just once, though, as his mouth comes down on yours and you feel something slide down your throat toward your chest.

His eyes are still boring into yours as he wraps himself around you and the last thing you hear is his voice in your head.

“You wanted to find the Body Ripper? Well congratulations, Filth… you did it!”

THE END.

Oops...Return to Chapter 2

TIME DOUCHE CH. 5 - Hold Marie Hostage

TIME DOUCHE CH.5 - HOLD MARIE HOSTAGE

By Mandy Ward

“Um… yes actually, that is what I’m looking for, thank you mon ami.” You dredge the high school French from your brain and hold out your hand. “Can I have it back, please?”

Napoleon tilts his head. “First you will tell me what you are doing with Marie.”

“Nothing. We were just taking . . .a walk.” She frowns at you. What else am I supposed to say? Sorry mate, I was just going to run away with your bird and take her back to my own time?

Napoleon snorts. “No one just walks with a lady, especially with one as beautiful and important as my Marie.”

“I do.” You shrug.

“I don’t believe you. You were going to steal her away from me.” Napoleon tosses the communicator from hand to hand.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” You look at Marie, trying to communicate to her that she needed to corroborate your story.

Napoleon looks at her as well. “Well, Marie? Is he right? Or were you about to leave me for some unknown foreigner?” The communicator makes another bounce from one hand to the other.

“Non, I would not do that, mon cher. He dragged me out here, muttering about finding something and leaving,” Marie tells him. She takes a step forward. “I want only to be with you!”

Napoleon’s face softens as she reaches towards him and takes another step. “I believe you, ma cherie.” He looks at you and you shudder at the rage in his eyes. “I will take this insult out of your hide!”

“Hey, I don’t care. I just want to go home.” You point at the communicator which still rests in Napoleon’s hand. “Give me that and you take your bitch of a princess back to your shack, where you can poke her all you want.”

Napoleon’s face turns puce. “You pig! How dare you insult her yet again? I would have merely let your blood a little. Instead I shall kill you!”

Drawing the dagger on your belt, you leap forward and grab Marie, holding the dagger to her throat. “You make one move towards your sword and your princess gains a new smile.”

Marie tries to scream and struggles against you. You push the dagger against her slender white throat and a drop of blood dribbles down, leaving a scarlet trail behind. “Don’t move sweetheart, I really don’t want to hurt you.” She stops moving. Thank God for that. I wouldn’t be able to hurt her, you think. I’d rather take her to heaven a different way. Marie’s perfume and the warmth from her body are making you wish that the two of you were somewhere private right now.

“Enough. What do you want, pig?” Napoleon’s tone is softer.

“Throw the communicator over here and I’ll let her go.” With you free hand you point to a spot to your right that is clear of stones.

“Dog. Pig. Let her go first!” the petite soldier spits, his face flushing puce again.

“What on God’s Green Earth are you doing now?” Nubleman shrieks from the communicator. “I told you to get back to the Time Machine and get out of there!”

The voice coming out of nowhere startles Napoleon and he literally jumps a foot into the air. The communicator flies out of his hand and drops hard onto a large rock, smashing into a hundred shreds of plastic, a scattering of computer chips and other electronic components.

You groan and drop the dagger from Maria’s throat, not caring that she dashes back to Napoleon as you wrench the door of the time machine open and start pressing buttons left, right and centre.

“What are you doing, you ignorant piece of filth? Come out of there and fight me like a man.” Napoleon shouts . . .except it comes out as "Que faites-vous, vous ignorant pièce d'immondices? Sortez de là et me batter comme un homme."

You ignore him and keep bashing buttons. Damn, without that translator I don’t understand a thing they are saying and without Nubleman, I don’t know how to work this thing! That red button looks promising, maybe it’s the starter? Jamming your thumb onto the red button, you are surprised to hear a genteel female voice say:

“Thank you for choosing the ten second self-destruct sequence. Please exit the Time Machine and retreat to a safe distance. This Time Machine will self-destruct in ten… nine…eight…”

Staring at the machine’s dashboard you mutter to yourself “Self-Destruct sequence? Nubleman, you really are crazy.”

“…seven…six…five…”

You back out of the machine and try to scramble up the hill as fast as possible, but Napoleon grabs hold of the back of your shirt and shouts at you again. “Où pensez-vous que vous allez? Revenez!”

I think I know what that means. I have to get out of here before the Time Machine blows up. You dredge your French language memory again. “Um…laissez-passer!”

“Non, chien. Le seul endroit où vous allez est en enfer.” Napoleon hauls you backwards with surprising strength for such a small man.

“…four…three…”

You land right in front of the time machine. You can smell acrid smoke drifting out from inside the dashboard and there are tiny sparks starting to flicker over the keys, so you try to roll away and Napoleon jumps on you, punching you hard in the face.

“…two…one… this Time Machine will now self destruct. Have a Nice day!” the voice says calmly and the dashboard explodes with a blast of flame, scattering glass and plastic like bullets.

Time slows down for you and you see Marie torn to shreds by glass, falling slowly to the ground as one piece of glass pierces her barely contained chest and kills her.

Napoleon is knocked off you by the detonation and comes crashing down onto the same rock that the communicator shattered on, his skull caving in, grey brain matter and red blood mingling as it flies out.

Above you, the machine rocks in the burst of energy and topples over. A torn steel strut twists and drops like a javelin towards you. Abruptly time speeds up again and you just have time to think Maybe I shouldn’t have threatened Marie after all… before it all goes black.

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 5

TIME DOUCHE CH. 4 - Betray Marie

TIME DOUCHE CH.4 - BETRAY MARIE

BY Mandy Ward

You look from the brutes to Marie, wondering if you really ought to defend her. After all, she seems ready to sleep with just about anyone who takes her fancy and certainly doesn’t care about the common folk, despite her intention to live as one of them. So what if she’s sexy and curvy and everything you like in a woman? Underneath it all, she’s still as sluttish and unfaithful as a camp follower.

“I’m glad you guys turned up,” you drawl. “I discovered this bitch lying in wait for Napoleon. I think she was going to murder him.”

Three of them look at her and she whimpers, but stands her ground. The fourth frowns. “It looks more like she’s trying to seduce you.”

“Of course she’s trying to seduce me. She’s attempting to leave this place alive.” You bluster a little, hoping they’ll take it for anger when all of a sudden you’re actually rather scared.

“Why would a woman like this want to murder Napoleon?” the fourth man asks.

Great. Trust one of them to have brains and brawn. You were trying to get them to arrest her and then you were going to wake Napoleon to come to her rescue, but you’ll have to spill the beans now. “She’s a member of the royal family. I mean, for God’s Sake, look at her; the bearing, the accent, the figure!”

Marie draws in a deep breath and, almost as one, the men’s eyes are drawn to her ample assets. Yes, that’s right. Go on, scream for help and watch Napoleon appear to find four men smirking at your chest.

But you realise that only two of the men are leering. The other two have drawn their swords and, with only a second’s pause, they lop the heads off the two drooling brutes. Then they both drop to their knees, their sword points grounded and heads bowed. “De la naissance à la mort, que nous servons notre reine,” the brainy one says softly.

From Birth to Death, we serve our Queen. The translation makes you shudder. So she’s not given up on her birthright after all.

The blood from the slaughtered men pools out around their bodies. Marie delicately steps away from it, holding her skirts out of the crimson liquid.

“Thank you, gentlemen. It is a relief to know that I can count on such loyalty still. You may rise.”

They stand up. “What do we do with him, your majesty?” the brainy one says.

“He saved Napoleon’s life today, but was about to force himself on my person,” she says, her head tilting back slightly as if she’d smelled something rotten. “That is against the law and is punishable by death; but for the act of saving My Love’s life and returning him to me, I reward him with a quick death rather than being drawn and quartered.”

“Oh now, hang on! You were coming onto me, not the other way round,” you protest loudly as they advance towards you.

“What’s going on?” Napoleon emerges, chest bare and blinking sleep from his eyes. “Marie, is there a problem? Why are two of my men dead?”

Her lovely eyes go wide and her bottom lip trembles before she flies to his side, ignoring the blood that splashes up her skirts in her haste to reach him. “Oh Napoleon! This . . .this . . .thug tried to force himself on me!”

Lying bitch. You think fast, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation. In your pocket you can hear Thomas muttering something, but it’s not loud enough for you to hear properly. He’s probably just cursing me again.

“What?” Napoleon’s gaze drops onto you and you shiver at the fury in his eyes. “Captain, what is the truth of this matter?” his arm curls around Marie’s waist and pulls her to him protectively.

The intelligent one replies. “Sir, we were passing by your door when we heard muffled cries in here. We forced our way in and found this man—“ he points his bloodied blade at you, “—and his two confederates attacking Madame Marie. He insisted that she is the Fille de France and that she should be executed. His confederates suggested having some fun with her first and that was when we entered.”

The other man nods as Napoleon looks at him.

Oh come on, Napoleon, you’re smarter than that! Use your brain, they have blood all over them and are carrying bare blades, for Christ’s sake.

“We beheaded the brutes and were about to administer the same fate to their leader when you entered,” the Captain finishes.

You sigh as Napoleon looks at you. “You saved my life so that you could kill my love? How dare you.”

You try to appeal to his political side. “Look, I swear that I am innocent of this! She was trying to seduce me and she admitted to being Marie Therese, the French Princess. Of course she’s going to lie about it, she’s a noblewoman!”

He holds out his hand and the captain places his sword into it. “Stand back, my love, I must dispatch this ruffian!”

“A man in love is only as intelligent as his todger,” you mutter, sighing and attempting to put some distance between you and the enraged Napoleon.

The two soldiers place themselves between you and Marie, while Napoleon advances towards you. You back away and slip in the blood pool surrounding one of the bodies. Catching yourself against a chair, you pull yourself upright, turn and trip over the second body.

“Aha! I have you now.” Napoleon springs forward and lunges smoothly, the blade piercing your back, carving through your ribcage and as the point touches your heart. You think Oh, well, Nubleman isn’t going to get his time machine back.

Your heart bursts and blood flows out of every upper orifice, adding to the pool on the floor. Your last sight is of Marie. The damn bitch has a smirk on her face. What a nasty piece of work; I’m glad I didn’t do her now…

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 4

WELCOME TO HELLYWOOD CH.5 - A MATTER OF SIZE

WELCOME TO HELLYWOOD CH.5 - A MATTER OF SIZEBy Mandy Ward

You saunter over, trying your best to look casual. “Hi Traywen.”

“Hello yourself,” she purrs, completely ignoring the idiot on her arm.

Screams temporarily deafen the two of you as a horde of teenage girls run over, mobbing you and forcing the bodyguards to hustle all three of you into a black limo. You sigh happily as you sink into the soft, butter-coloured leather seat. This sort of life is too good to give up for the inconvenience of a soul. You can do without it!

Traywen snuggles up to you, stroking your cheek. “I’ve been a fan of yours forever, Justin.”

You smile and kiss her, ignoring the angry hiss of the prat on the seat across the limo. Your hands wander, stroking her hair, her back, her hip and leg.

“Oh no you don’t!” Drevor snaps and hauls you off Traywen.

“Go fuck a groupie, Stone. You’re a has-been anyway, you say. You’re rather proud of the way you slip into the younger man’s shoes.

Traywen giggles and nibbles on one of your earlobes. “You tell him, Tiger.” You shrug Drevor off and turn back to kissing the beautiful starlet.

“I said you are not having my woman!” Drevor growls and bangs on the limo partition three times. The limo screeches to a halt, throwing Traywen into your lap. The two of you collapse in giggles. “Right, Bieber, I want to settle this properly, like men.” Drevor says and gets out of the car.

You look at Traywen. Her eyes are alight with excitement and she almost pushes you out of the limo. “I’ve never had two men fight over me before.”
You fall onto the other seat and Traywen scrambles out. “Come on Justin, if you want me, you’ll have to fight for me.”

You are in the middle of the promenade. All around the limo, curious people are gathering. One or two older women point at Drevor and whisper excitedly. When Traywen emerges, several young guys call out for her to look at them or give them a kiss. She just waves.

The screaming starts as you step out of the limo. “JUSTIN! Over here, look at me! I love you Justin!” Several girls faint and a couple more jump up and down.

Drevor stands there arms folded. “Come on, ickle baby boy. Prove you are a man.”

“What do you want, Drivel?” you ask, standing with one hip cocked. “You’ll never lay a finger on me, coz you’re too old.” Drevor roars and rushes at you. You dance nimbly aside and smile at the swift reactions of this new you. “What’s wrong old man?” you ask, laying one hand on his shoulder and spinning him off into the open limo. Several people laugh. There is a large crowd by now and amongst them you can see the huge lenses of the paparazzi, all flashing away at the action. Turning, you smile and pose for them. Flashbulbs go off all around you and you change to a different pose.

Drevor has clambered out of the limo and is snorting and puffing like a bull. Pulling your jacket off to expose your toned body, you wave it like a matador at Drevor. “Come on then. Hey! Toro! Ole!”

“Don’t you mock me, you half baked, pimple faced pop nobody!” Drevor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flick knife, popping it up to show a shining, eight-inch blade.

You laugh, bravado overcoming the fear that rose in your throat like bile at the sight of the steel. “Is that why you think you’re a man, Drevor?” You sneer. “I bet you have size issues.” He paces towards you, death in his eyes and blade held point out.

“He does you know… have size issues, I mean. His dick is the smallest I have ever seen!” Traywen confides loudly to the crowd.

Several people laugh and Drevor’s head whips round to stare at her. “You bitch. Just for that I am never going to go south on you ever again.”

You can see a reporter scribbling notes of the conversation. An idea occurs to you. I can become the hero of this if I’m careful, you think. Taking advantage of the other man’s distraction, you circle around him and grab for the knife, one arm wrapping around his throat. ”Come on now, old timer. Drop the knife so that no one gets hurt, alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll drop it… in your body!” Drevor puts one hand on your arm around his throat and folds forward, throwing you down to the ground in front of him.

Landing with an “oof”, you lie on the ground and watch as the blade heads down for your chest. Time slows and even as several people rush forward and you attempt to get up again, Drevor plunges the flick knife into your chest, sliding it expertly between your ribs. As the pain and blood erupt with equal measure out of your mouth,

Drevor’s eyes flicker from blue to green to brown and back to blue. “I win, I always win.” Dr. Skin’s voice whispers out of Drevor’s face, before he pushes the blade deeper and you feel your heart burst.

Why did I go to him? You wonder as everything fades to black.

THE END.

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 5

WELCOME TO HELLYWOOD CH.4 - BIDDIN' WAR!

WELCOME TO HELLYWOOD CH.4 - BIDDIN' WAR!

By Jason Campbell

“No bids?! My best years may be behind me, but what the fu-” your voice cracks with impending puberty.

Oh god no! Not puberty again, you think to yourself, I can’t go through this again. Anger, desperation, and frustration all wage war within you, leading you to drastic actions. A worn leather chair sits at the next cubicle over. You slide the chair over to the computer with eBay pulled up and sit down in front of the computer. Drawing again on your vast array of acting knowledge, you begin to channel your inner “hacker."

How hard could this be to hack? His password has to be something like soullessbastard or shallowcelebrity. Neither of those work. On the off chance you type p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d. The screen flashes and you have access to Dr. Skin’s personal eBay account. That was way too easy, you think. Undaunted, you push forward, scrolling through some of the evil doctor’s other auctions: a Baywatch actor, a has-been or two, and look! here’s an actress with multiple adopted kids. That sure explains the newly anorexic-looking body… but, yours isn’t there!

You logout and go back to the first page displayed, the one that had your skin for sale. There is no name on the auction, no registered seller. Sneaky bastard, Skin! The only way it seems that you are going to get your skin back is to bid on it. There is no way you can hide here for ten days to bid on it though. Using your own eBay account, you put in a bid for two million and one dollars. That done, you head towards the door, preparing to look for an exit. It is time to find a safer place to bid. As you reach for the door, you hear the computer ding behind you. When you get back to the desk you find that there is a competing bid for three million.

You’re a little shocked someone actually wants your skin as you enter your new bid for a dollar more. Seconds later it dings again, four million. Again you enter a dollar more which is the top bid for a millisecond, until the bid increases to five million.

“What the hell?!”

At this rate you will have used all of your last big paydays in just a couple more bids. You look for who your competition is. The account name says DWTSBergeron. The name sets off alarms in your head. Dancing With The Stars? Aren’t they always looking for washed-up has-beens trying to reclaim their former glory? Why would he need my skin? Does he have a host for it?

Ding – eight million.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Eight million and one dollars. You are nearing your last bid.

Ding – nine million. A couple quick key strokes and it’s nine million and one. You have nothing left if it dings again. One minute, then two, then five pass. Relief washes over you as you realized you’ve done it! You stand and head to the door again, but just as you step out into the hallway, you hear it, the sound of your skin being sold to someone else.

You want to drop to your knees and scream in wretched defeat, but with your new hormones, anger takes over and you storm out of the building, channeling your ninja assassin on more than one occasion to deal with the guards. You walk out of the front of the building, forgetting for a moment who you look like until you hear: “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, it’s Justin!”

“Oh fuck,” You shout as it dawns on you that you have just stepped into public looking like the most recognized face for girls under the age of 15. As if it was a call to arms, teenage girls pour out of every store, house, and vehicle in sight, and they all have their sights set on you. Like a knight riding over the horizon, a yellow taxi appears at the corner ahead of you. Using your new found youth, you sprint to the taxi; throwing open the door, you dive in, screaming at the cabbie to lock the doors.

“Quick, take me to CBS Television Studio.”

“Yes, right away Mr. Bieber. Oh just wait until I tell my daughter who I picked up today. She will never believe me!” The cabbie responds.

“Sure, sure, just get me out of here and I will sign autographs and take pictures.”

You look into the rearview mirror as the cab pushes its way through the mob of girls. It’s then that you notice that your ears are not perfectly even anymore. One sits a little lower than the other. The same thing has happened on your hand. Your middle finger is sloughing away from the bone. The cabby catches you fingering him and slams on the brakes. You are catapulted into his safety glass.

“I do not appreciate that, Mr. Beiber. I don’t think you want to walk -- Oh my God! What is wrong with your face?” The cabbie asks. His face is curled into a grimace. You look into the rearview mirror. Half of your face looks as if it is melting away.

“Nothing, just get me to that studio!”

The rest of the trip to the studio is a blur as you pull at your skin, trying secure it back into place, trying to make it look normal. When you arrive at the studio you look as if you have aged fifty years in the last ten minutes. You throw a wad of bills at the driver and storm into the studio. The Dancing With The Stars stage is to your left. You don’t make it more than two steps when you feel your nose slide right off your face. Michael Jackson has nothing on you as more pieces start to slide off your body. By the time you reach the doors to the stage, there is very little left holding you together.

The door swings open as you reach for the handle. There in front of you stands Tom Bergeron. He shakes his head at what is left of your body.

“You should have listened to the nurse,” he says.

“What? How do you know about the nurse?” you gasp as you fight for breath.

“Where do you think I find most of my clients for my little side business? All the has-beens and wannabes want to be on this show.”

“Dr. Skin?” You ask, just before the blackness engulfs you.

THE END.

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 4