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an amateur taxidermist.
'All on your own here?' he asked. But Norman appeared distracted.
'Just get the key, whispered the sprout. 'And let's get that sucker out of the trunk before he
suffocates.'
Norman Bates parted with the key and then parted company, wandering off towards a large
old house which stood halfway up a hill.
Jovil opened the trunk. Elvis was still there, bound and gagged. Only now he was dressed in
a gold lame suit, the hood was gone and his hair was in perfect shape.
'This is all making me very uneasy.' Jovil hauled the hostage from the car and dragged him
into the motel room. The room was grim enough. There was a chair, a bedside table with
lamp. A single bed, a worn rug. All were in shades of black and white. The ensuite bathroom
was spotless, but the shower lacked its curtain.
'I'm going to take off your gag.' Jovil sat Elvis upon the bed. 'If you make a fuss I will strike
you hard. Do you understand?'
Elvis nodded. Jovil removed the gag. Elvis spat out flecks of lurex.
'Who the fuck are you?' he asked.
'I am Jovil Jspht.' The time traveller bowed slightly. 'I come from a distant star.'
'You scrubbing around the guardian angel bit then, chief?' a muffled voice enquired.
'Seems a mite redundant under the circumstances.'
92
Elvis listened to this exchange. He was more than a little confused. 'You some kind of
schizo?'
Jovil shook his head and pulled out the Time Sprout. 'I come from another world. Honest.
Don't you ever go to the movies?' He placed the sprout on the pillow.
'Where's your ray gun, then?'
'My ray gun? Oh, I see. Just stay there a minute and I'll show you something that might
convince you.' Jovil strode from the room, leaving Elvis to spit sock. He returned to the car
where he pulled out his knapsack. As he clicked the driver's door shut, he paused for a
moment. The car was now a 1958 Plymouth. Jovil made a worried face and hurried back to
the motel room. Here he swept the nasty tablelamp aside and set up the monitor. This is
going to come as a bit of a shock to you but I feel you should see it just the same.'
Ts that a General Electric or one of those new Jap jobs?'
'It's an Abendroth Triple D,' said the Time Sprout informatively. 'Self-contained bio-system.
Audio and visual through binary intrapolation of pseudopodia. It's organic yet non-sentient.
Although there are well-founded arguments in favour of it enjoying some primi-tive state of
being.'
'Thank you.' Jovil tinkered with the monitor. 'But I think your explanations will like as not
confuse him. They do me.'
A sudden look of enlightenment appeared un-expectedly upon the King's youthful face. He
leant towards Jovil and whispered into his ear. 'If you untie me, I will help you kill the . . . you
know . . .'
'I do?'
Elvis made eye movements towards the sprout. 'The alien. I'm getting this now, it's got you
under some kind of mind control. Just untie me. I know Karate.'
93
'Roll the movie chief. Let's get this over and done with.'
Jovil stroked a module and stepped back from the monitor. Light whirled up forming a broad
image which hung in the air.
'Holy shit, croaked Elvis. 'I gotta get me one of these doodads.'
'Just watch.'
Elvis did so, and what he saw during the next half hour he didn't like one little bit.
The room Rex Mundi now occupied was tiled throughout with octagonal mirrors. It lacked
furniture but for the steel chair into which the naked Rex was strapped. The floor was also
mirror, but reflection was made difficult by the large amount of congealed blood splashed
about it. The room smelt bad. It smelt of stale sweat, it smelt of fear. Rex stared up at his
own image. It didn't please him. Small white discs adhered to sensitive areas. These shone
out amongst the grime which coated his body. He felt terror but also a strange self-loathing.
A sense of total worthlessness.
A voice crackled down to him through an unseen intercom. 'Bloodaxe, Rambo Bloodaxe.
High priest of the sub-cult Devianti. We have no wish to prolong this interview. So to spare
yourself the prolonged agony and we the inevitable arguing with the management over
waiting time, it might just be simpler all round if you answered the questions without delay.'
'As elected representative of the interrogation and security sub-committee I take exception
to that remark, came a second voice. 'There is no need to hurry. Give the gentleman a jolt or
two as a little taster.'
'Hold on, cried Rex. 'I'm feeling in a particularly talkative mood at present.'
94
'Good boy, said the first voice. 'Now your chosen moniker is Rambo Bloodaxe, yes?'
'Well, actually no. There seems to have been some mis-' The pain hit him from every side.
Every nerve ending was being torn from his body at the same time. 'Yes, yes,' Rex
screamed, 'Bloodaxe, yes.'
'Good boy. Easy when you've got the knack, isn't it?'
'You had the volume turned right down, the second voice said. 'He couldn't have felt a thing.
Whack it up a couple of notches.'
'No. No.' Rex yelled back. 'It's working just fine, honestly. What else would you like to know?'
'How many in your chapter?'
Rex could only guess. 'About twelve?'
'Good, said the first voice, which pleased Rex no end.
'Names?'
'Deathblade Eric . . .'
'Yes.'
'Er . . .' Rex came apart at the seams. Pain comes in many colours; this came in all of them.
'Vile Tony Watkins . . . Killer McKee . . . Syd the Slayer . . .' Where they came from Rex had
no idea but they poured from his mouth in a great unstoppable torrent. When he was done
the voice said, 'Correct.'
Rex bit his tongue, his body shook uncontrollably. Correct? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
