Clickers III Read online

  Groaning, the man on the floor stirred. When he tried to sit up, his captor placed a foot on his chest and shoved him back to the carpet.

  “Get off me!”

  “You tell them, brother,” Tony cheered. “Don’t let these fuckers push you around. I’ve got them right where I want them.”

  Without speaking, two of the intruders picked the maintenance worker up from the floor and forced him to sit in a chair across from Tony. Two kept their weapons pointed at him while the woman tied him up. The maintenance worker struggled, but Tony got the impression that the man was doing it to size up his opponents—probe their strengths and weaknesses—rather than to escape.

  “So what’s next?” Tony asked. “We gonna play Uno or Monopoly or something? Or wait. I got it! You fuckers are into that role-playing shit, aren’t you? Roll D20 and determine how many times you suck my dick.”

  Tony kept the banter up, but as he spoke, he eyed the maintenance worker intensely. The guy was no mere wrench monkey or lawn jockey. Tony recognized a kind of hardness in the captive’s expression. It was mirrored in Tony’s own. This guy was not who he claimed to be, and Tony was almost certain that he had killed before.

  Baby-face grabbed a kitchen chair and slid it across the floor. Then he sat down, his face inches from Tony’s.

  “Are you finished?” he asked. His voice was quiet. Calm. Almost bemused.

  “I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “You tell me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you guys here to whack me? Because if so, I wish you’d get the fuck on with it.”

  “On the contrary, Mr. Genova. We’re not here to kill you. We’re here because we need your help. We want to offer you a job.”

  Tony blinked. “Is that so? Well, you sure have a funny way of asking for help. You always assault and tie up your job applicants?”

  Baby-face’s expression became sad. “I apologize for that. It was a necessary precaution. We had to take certain measures to make sure you were protected.”

  “Protected from what?”

  “From us. Had you been tempted to use your firearm, or attack us in some other manner, we’d have had no choice but to defend ourselves. That could have ended badly—for all concerned. Believe me when I tell you that we don’t want to kill you, Mr. Genova. Indeed, you are one of the seven most important people in the world.”

  “My mama always told me I was special.”

  Baby-face smiled. “Your mother was right.”

  Tony returned the smile. Then he spat in his captor’s face. Baby-face flinched as the wad of saliva splattered against his cheek and slowly rolled down to his chin, but his smile, although faltering, remained.

  “Was that really necessary?” He grabbed a napkin from Tony’s kitchen table and wiped the offending fluid away.

  “Let’s cut the happy feel good bullshit,” Tony said. “You motherfuckers come busting in here, knock me the fuck out with your Mr. Spock shit, tie me up in this fucking chair, kidnap some poor schmuck from outside, drop him in my crib, and then tell me that I’m special and this is all for my own good? As the brothers are prone to say—nigga, please.”

  Baby-face opened his mouth to respond, but the older man interrupted.

  “Tell him. We’re wasting time.”

  “Not yet. We still—”

  “We have no choice. Tell him.”

  Baby-face turned around and pointed at the maintenance man. “What about him?”

  “I’ll take care of him. You just get Genova prepared for what’s to come. We don’t have much time. The plane leaves in an hour and thirty minutes. We need to be on it.”

  The older man grabbed the back of the maintenance man’s chair and tilted it toward him. Then he began to drag the captive across the floor toward the door. The maintenance man kicked and struggled against his bonds.

  “Get your hands off me,” he shouted. “I know who you people are! Black Lodge. You’re Black fucking Lodge, right?”

  The older man stopped, releasing the chair as if he’d been shocked. The other man—the one Tony’s age and build—gasped. The woman simply stared, clearly surprised.

  “He’s got your goat,” Tony said. “I don’t know what the fuck any of it means, but he got you.”

  “Get him out of here,” Baby-face said, his calm demeanor betrayed by the edge in his voice.

  “No,” Tony said. “The lawn jockey stays. If what you’re saying is true—if you need me for some job—then he stays. Otherwise, I ain’t doing jack shit, and you can just kill me now.”

  “I told you, Mr. Genova, we have no intention of killing you. And why are you worried about the welfare of this man, whom you don’t even know?”

  “He senses a kindred spirit,” the woman said, moving to stand over Baby-face’s shoulder. “He doesn’t know who this maintenance man is, but he knows that they are the same. They both have blood on their hands. Since Mr. Genova views both himself and this other man as our captives, he’s hoping to keep the other man alive long enough so that the two of them can work together to effect an escape.”

  “Wow,” Tony gasped. “Lady, you’re good. You should take that mind reading shit on the road. Get yourself on Oprah or something.”

  “When you were twelve years old,” the woman said, “the neighborhood bully, one Max Delveccio, taunted and harassed a friend of yours. The friend’s name was Paul Novak. The harassment progressed to sexual harassment, and then rape. Delveccio’s cruelty forced your friend to run away from home. Paul was never seen again.”

  “How did you—”

  “I could have gotten that information from any number of sources,” the woman continued, “but what I couldn’t have known was this. You lured Max Delveccio to an old abandoned house, and then you killed him. He was the first person you ever murdered. You thought that if he went away, your friend would come back home again. You were sick after you did it. You stayed home from school for three days. Your mother believed you had the flu. You buried Delveccio’s body in the basement of the house. When you were sixteen, the house was torn down to make way for a county park. You were worried that someone would find the remains, but they never did. His bones lie there to this day. They whisper your name.”

  Tony’s voice was barely audible. “I’ve never told anyone about that. Not even Vince. How the fuck do you know that?”

  “I know everything about you, Mr. Genova.”

  “Because you can read minds?”

  She nodded. “How else would you explain what I just did?”

  Tony shrugged. “So, what? You tell me about a murder I supposedly did back when I was a kid, and I’m supposed to be all impressed now? You don’t know shit.”

  The woman was nonplussed. “I know more about you than you probably know yourself. Indeed, we all do.”

  “We know about the dreams,” Baby-face said. “More importantly, we know why you have them.”

  “What dreams?”

  “The ones where you’re living different lives on different worlds. Worlds that have eerie similarities to this one, and yet are different. You and your partner, Vince, fighting zombies in Finland, for example. That’s been a recently recurring nightmare, has it not?”

  “Big deal. So I watched Dawn of the Dead one too many times. How the fuck do you people know about this shit? Who are you?”

  “We know because those aren’t just dreams, Mr. Genova. They are memories. Memories of different worlds. Memories that versions of you have experienced in alternate realities. You are a survivor of the Clicker invasion. On another world, perhaps there is a Tony Genova who dreams of battling Clickers, or who right now, at this very moment, is dreaming of being tied to that chair.”

  “Dude, I don’t know what kind of drugs you’re on, but can I have some? You people are tripping balls.”

  “No,” the maintenance worker said, “they’re not. This is what they do. They specialize in all that occult mumbo jumbo—alternate realities, witchcraft, UFO’s, demons, all
that stuff. They’re Black Lodge.”

  “That supposed to mean something to me?” Tony asked. “Because

  it doesn’t. I don’t know what that is. Black Lodge? What are you, like the X-Files or some shit?”

  “Our organization no longer works within the confines of any one government,” Baby-face told him. “We are beholden to a much higher law. We are engaged in many activities, and to tell you all of it… well, I’m afraid it would be a bit confusing for a novice such as yourself. Suffice to say, we’re a bit more complicated than the television show you referenced.”

  The older man began dragging the maintenance man toward the door again. The captive shouted in protest, but the agents ignored him.

  “You take him out of here,” Tony told Baby-face, “and I swear to fucking God I’m not doing shit for you. Ask her.” He nodded at the woman. “If she can read minds, have her read mine right the fuck now. Tell me if I’m lying. I dare you.”

  The woman paused. Her eyes narrowed. “He means it. Stubborn and contentious, just as we were told he’d be.”

  Sighing, Baby-face hung his head. “Who was the idiot that wrote this mission’s sit-rep?”

  “You did,” the woman said.

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “What do you want me to do with him?” the older man asked.

  Baby-face looked up. “He stays. We’ve got to keep Mr. Genova happy, don’t we?”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Need I remind you of your station?”

  “That’s right,” Tony said. “You’ve got to keep Mr. Genova happy. So why don’t we start with some oral sex?”

  They stared at him, unblinking.

  “No? Okay, then. How about your names?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Baby-face said. “Names have power. Instead, how about we tell you what we prefer to be called?”

  “Whatever.”

  Baby-face pointed to the older man. “That is Diamond. The gentleman to his left is Onyx. The young lady is Ruby. And I am Amethyst.”

  “That’s a chick’s name.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Amethyst. It’s a chick’s name. I used to bang a stripper named Amethyst. Wasn’t her real name, of course.”

  “Nor are these our real names. They are simply what we prefer to be called.”

  “You prefer to be called by a chick’s name? Hell, why not just call yourself Bambi or Sally, while you’re at it. Or wait…I got it. You can be Snow White and the rest of the happy fun club can be Dopey, Sleepy and Shit-head.”

  “Okay. So, Amethyst…you gonna untie me or what?”

  Amethyst glanced over his shoulder at Ruby. “Can we?”

  “Not yet. He’s still imagining ways to escape.”

  Amethyst turned back to Tony and smiled. “Perhaps after you hear us out.”

  “What about him?” Tony nodded at the other captive. “No sense keeping him here. You’re not gonna say anything, are you dude?”

  “That one is thinking of ways to escape, as well,” Ruby said. “He is driven by violence and an all-consuming need for revenge. He’s the one they’ve been looking for—the one who has killed many of those associated with the Tyler Administration. The secret assassin. He wants to murder former Secretary of State Donald Barker next. He’s hoping to cut a deal with us in that regard. If not, he intends on killing us, as well.”

  “That’s unexpected,” Amethyst muttered, and then turned back to Tony. “Are you ready to hear us out?”

  “What else am I gonna do tonight? It ain’t like I can go anywhere.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong. You can leave whenever you like.”

  “Then you didn’t do your research. If you had, you’d know that—”

  “The conditions of your deal with the government need not be a concern. We’ve taken care of that. You’re free to travel. Indeed, we’ll be leaving shortly.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the airport. We have a plane on standby.”

  “Awesome,” Tony said. “Let’s hit St. Martin’s. Or Cabo. Yeah, let’s go to Cabo. Sammy Hagar’s got a bar down there. Always wanted to see it.”

  “We’re going to the island of Naranu.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “That’s not surprising. Until recently, it was wholly unremarkable to the average layperson.”

  “Until recently? What changed? The natives discover cable television or something?”

  “No,” Amethyst said. “A team of scientists discovered something else—some very old ruins. But what they don’t know is that Naranu has another, older name. R’lyeh.”

  “The fuck is that?”

  “In mythology, it’s a sunken city. In reality, it’s the island we call Naranu.”

  “So why are we going there?”

  “Because Naranu refers to more than just the island itself. It is also the name of the catacombs that honeycomb the island, and the sunken city that lies beneath it. Naranu is a shrine, of sorts. A temple. The Dark Ones consider the island to be the holiest of ground.”

  “The Dark Ones?” Chuckling, Tony shook his head. “I should have known. I mean, you brought the Clickers up earlier. I should have fucking known that sooner or later it would come around to this. You want to go fucking around with those goddamned lizard things, and since I’ve faced them before, you expect me to be some sort of guide and shit. A civilian advisor. Is that it?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  “Well, I got news for you, Amethyst—the Dark Ones are dead. The Army scragged them and the fucking Clickers. They’re extinct.”

  “Far from it,” Amethyst said. “You’ve fought them, and survived. Tell me, did the Dark Ones seem intelligent to you?”

  “Sure. The Clickers were dumb as stumps, but those lizard-things were as smart as you or me.”

  “They are, indeed. And they have thriving communities far from the reach of mankind. The Dark Ones are far from extinct, Mr. Genova—or may I call you Tony?”

  Tony shrugged, and Amethyst continued.

  “The Dark Ones have certainly suffered heavy losses. But they’ve been biding their time. Waiting until the stars are right. You see, the Dark Ones are theistic. They worship a being known as Dagon. Humans know this deity as Cthulhu or Dagnu. He has many other names, as well. Tlaloc. Matsya. Vishnu. Dingir. Bekalam. Kraken. His real name, however, his secret name…is Leviathan.”

  “You guys take this name shit seriously, don’t you?”

  Ignoring the comment, the younger man continued. “The island of Naranu is little more than nine miles in circumference. It’s basically a mountaintop of phosphorous rock and lush jungle jutting up from the ocean. Beneath the waves, however, lies a much larger landmass—sunken eons ago. The being that the Dark Ones worship is said to reside in a temple located deep beneath the island—somewhere in Naranu’s subterranean depths. According to the Dark One’s beliefs, he sleeps until the stars and planets align in a particular formation, at which time they can awaken him, after which he shall exact their revenge on the surface world. Like all other religions, this is not entirely accurate. Dagon actually dwells on another plane—a place called the Great Deep; it is a dimensional realm composed entirely of water. There is a portal beneath Naranu—a doorway, if you will. When the astrological formation occurs, the Dark Ones’ ceremony will actually open this portal, allowing Dagon to crossover from his realm to our own.”

  “You said this thing’s real name was Leviathan,” Tony said. “So why do you keep calling it Dagon?”

  “It is hard to explain to a novice such as yourself. Suffice to say, the Dark Ones know it as Dagon, so that is what we must confront it as.”

  “Time,” Diamond reminded them.

  “I knew they were smart,” Tony muttered, “but I didn’t realize they had their own religion and shit.”

  “Oh, yes. Since your last encounter with them, the Dark Ones have not been idle. They have retreated from the surface world, licking their wounds and g
athering strength again. Now, due to certain astrological events that they believe to be portents, the Dark Ones intend to wake up their god.”

  “And do what?”

  “Destroy mankind. They want to exact revenge on us for thwarting their last invasion attempt.”

  “Well, shit. You’d better untie me. If the world’s gonna end, then I’ve got a lot of things I want to do before it happens.”

  “The world isn’t going to end, Tony, because we’re going to stop it from happening.”

  “We? I’m not going anywhere. You guys can enjoy your little island getaway. I’m staying here. I fought those fuckers once before. I ain’t fighting them again.”

  “You have no choice,” Ruby said. “It is your destiny.”

  Tony laughed. “Christ. You people sound like you’re quoting really cheesy movie dialogue. There is no such thing as destiny, sweetheart, Destiny is what you make it. Destiny is the shit I took this morning. Destiny is what comes out of the barrel of a gun. You want to talk about destiny? Listen to the lyrics of Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler. That’s everything you ever wanted to know about destiny but were afraid to ask.”

  Smiling, Amethyst folded his fingers into a steeple formation. “We assumed that would be your reaction. I’d be remiss if I didn’t explain to you that if you refuse to help us, your deal with the government shall be immediately rendered null and void, and you will be incarcerated and tried for your crimes. All of your crimes.”

  “Bullshit. You ain’t got the power to—”

  “Oh, but we do, Tony. We really do.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Is that really a risk you’re willing to take?”

  Tony didn’t respond. He glanced around the room. Diamond, Onyx and Ruby all returned his gaze, unblinking, their faces emotionless. The maintenance man who wasn’t really a maintenance man stared at him, too. His expression was easier to read. Tony knew it well. It mirrored his own thoughts and emotions.

  Play along with the crazy fuckers until we can come up with a way out of this shit.

  “He’s going to bluff us,” Ruby reported. “He has no desire to accompany us to Naranu. He’s still just looking for an avenue of escape. He senses a kinship with the other man.”