Free Fantasmagoria by Rick Wayne

Gilbert thought for a moment as the moaning from the room increased. “What if I want to go home?”
    Marcelline opened to the door and the noise returned. “This is your home, Mr. Tubers. There’s nothing left for you at your apartment. You’re part of our family now. I’ll be back for you in four hours. I suggest you eat, screw, and get some rest. You’ll need it.”
    “Why?”
    “You’re going to kill Pugs Roth tonight.”
    Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, but Marcelline was already out the door. As it swung shut, the silence returned. He watched for a moment as the mechanoid women chanted in unison. Radic didn’t know it, but that would be the last happy moment of his life. He climaxed with a bellow and to raving applause. Then he stumbled back and clutched his head. The headaches were already starting.



 
     
    (TEN) The Automatic Killer
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Jack heard the hammer lock into place as the barrel pressed to the back of his head. He could tell from the cold feel and the baritone sound that the gun was massive. The hallway was silent except for the faint shrill of children laughing and the ensuing rumble of scolding parents.
    There must be a field trip at the aquarium, he thought. “Where’d you get the cannon, Zee?”
    “A girl can’t be too careful these days. Get on your knees, Jack.”
    Zeek had waited until they were away from the others. After the elevator ride from Erasmus’s subterranean headquarters, she had motioned for Jack to follow her around the corner to a service entrance that opened to the back of the carnival. It would be risky to shoot him there, but there wasn’t another opportunity. Once outside the door, it was busy streets all the way to Pugs’.
    “That thing must weight fifteen, twenty pounds, I’m guessing.”
    Zeek pressed the barrel harder into the back of Jack’s head. “I’m not fucking around, Jack. Not with you. Jeez, not you. Get down.”
    “That’s a lot of weight to hold up high like that.”
    “Jack . . .”
    “Doesn’t take long for the arms to get tired, start shaking. Unless you work out.”
    “Jack . . .”
    “You don’t look like you been working out, Zee.”
    Jack felt the barrel quiver as if strength used for steadying had been switched to the trigger. He heard Zeek draw breath.
    The service door swung open, flooding the hall with light and laughter. A small boy stepped in and lost his smile. He stared at the pair.
    “Oh, dear.” Zeek stuffed the monster revolver into her purse as the boy’s mother came apologizing to collect him. She gave the pair a nervous glance as she herded the stiff child back into the crowd.
    Jack followed as the door swung closed. He stood amid the laughing kids and looked up at the sun. It had been raining for days, and the few remaining storm clouds floated in a sea of gray.
    Zeek walked through the door, straightened her wig, and stood next to Jack. The gunslinger wandered toward the lip of the massive pool in front of him. Children dragged their parents around it in bursts, trying to catch a glimpse of the giant squid in the deep water below. Jack leaned against the wall and peered into the blue. There was a dark and looming shape huddled at the bottom, but it was the future—deep and featureless.
    A little girl in a spring dress, no more than nine years old, leaned over the lip next to Jack. She stared into the water. “What’s his name?”
    “Archie.”
    The girl turned her curls to the gunslinger. “Really?”
    Jack nodded. “Yup.”
    “What do they feed him?”
    People, Jack thought. Anyone who needed to disappear. It was the perfect way to dispose of a body. “Vegetables.”
    “Vegetables?” The girl made a face.
    “Broccoli mostly.”
    The girl stuck out her tongue and ran back to her parents.
    Jack watched her go as Zeek walked up to him, her hand perched on the straps of her purse.
    “We need to talk, Jack.”
    “Who’s feeding Archie these days?” The job was dangerous and