|
Ken
and Sodom Chapter 15 The shore is an interesting place. All sorts of things wash up there - whales, bottles with messages in them, pieces of shipwrecks, things that people threw to the waters thinking they'd never be found again. Inevitably, they all wind up running ashore. As far as Rick Mason was concerned, that was fine by him. Not like an old man like him could get many jobs nowadays. Scrounging the shores for scrap metal and the occasional bits of jewlery or other valuables that washed up on them kept him alive from assistance check to assistance check. Besides, he loved the sound of the beach. The waves lazily rolling along and crashing into each other, the sound of the seagulls calling out over the air...sound. That was the important thing. He felt that he could be blind and mute, but as long as he had his ears, he was in heaven. His sandaled feet padded along the loose sand, displacing it and leaving his footprints behind. His metal detector was decidedly quiet today - not so much as a ping on an old bottlecap. It had been sunrise when he had left his shack on the other end of the beach and it was just starting to get dark. He was about to turn around and head home until he saw a glint of something and ran towards it instead. It was hard to tell, with the light starting to die out, but it looked like an ancient samurai statue. What luck! he thought. Some museum ship must have lost it in a storm. Should bring a decent price... He grabbed at the statue and found that it was incredibly heavy. He managed to turn it over and got a good look at the mask as he sat down to regain his strength. Ugliest thing I've ever seen. Oh well. I'm sure it served its purpose in its day... After he caught his breath, he attempted to drag the thing back down the beach, straining and grunting. To his shock, the thing started to move. He fell backwards and rapidly attempted to scramble to his feet. The statue slowly pushed itself up with its hands and looked at him. "Ohayu, I am Sodom. Do you have any idea where this is?" A tiny space heater in the corner of the shack provided all the warmth for the ramshackle little building. Sodom wrapped his hands around the tiny cup of soup and drank it as best he could considering that he had a mask in front of his mouth. Rivulets of soup dribbled off the chin of the mask and onto the shawl wrapped around him. He put the cup down and looked at Ken, who was also wrapped in a shawl and drinking soup, but mostly just staring at the table. The drugs seemed to have mostly worked their way out of his system, but had left him surly and withdrawn. Well, moreso, anyway. Mason looked at the two. "You know," he said after a long silence, "You two are probably the weirdest things I've ever pulled off the beach." He sat back in his chair and laughed. "How do a guy in a samurai mask and a California boy wind up on the shores of New England?" "You don't wanna know," Ken grumbled as he stared at the table. "So where are we, exactly?" Sodom asked. "You're in New Jersey, is where you are." Well, at least we're almost back to where we were before, Sodom thought. Ken wasn't doing much thinking at all because he had a screaming headache from the tranquilizers wearing off. We need to get Ken-san back to California. I'm sure Eliza and little Mel miss Ken-san very much. He began to stare off into space. I know now what I must do. He now began to arise nobly, which confused Mason to no end. I will be Ken-san's retainer! I will get him home safely...and if necessary, give my life for his! It is the way of the samurai...and of justice! JUSTIIIIICE! Sodom was now standing on top of the table. Mason was more or less completely panicking now. Ken groggily looked up, shook his head, and stared at his soup again. "Why are you on my table?" Mason asked evenly. "Oh...gomen nasai." Sodom slid off the table and back to his chair. "So, anyway, you didn't answer my question. How'd you wind up here, anyway? Someone after you? Homoerotic mask fetishist cruise ship take a wrong turn?" "HEY!" Ken yelled, then immediately wished he hadn't as his head gently thumped onto the table. He moaned. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Sodom said. "Living all alone in a rundown shack has given me the power to believe anything so long as it means someone will talk to me." Sodom laughed. "That was funny." Mason hung his head. "Yeah...funny...ha...ha." So Sodom told him about everything. Missing the flight, staying the night at that friendly farmer's house, running afoul of muggers and street gangs, battling the undead, traipsing all over the United States, and getting in trouble with Japanese crime syndicates. Mason sat enraptured if completely unconvinced. "Uh huh. And you teaching the sheep to speak Japanese was before or after you met up with the genetically-engineered female soldiers to defeat the succubus?" "Long before." He stared at Sodom long and hard before he next spoke. "And you're sure you incurred no brain damage at any point?" "Pretty sure, yes." He sat back in his rickety chair and inhaled deeply. "Well, that's a weird story, but you're an earnest fella. I'm inclined to believe you, even if it's almost impossible to do so. Maybe it's the saltwater in my veins, or the fumes from the waste processing plant on down the beach, but your story makes perfect sense." "...It does?" Sodom was visibly shocked, or at least he would be if he didn't wear a garish samurai mask over his face. "Oh yes. I know all about the succubi, you see." He rummaged around in a drawer and slid some newsletters across the table to Sodom. "The Monthly Basketcase. Best anti-conspiracy newsletter a pint of your blood and a pack of smokes can get you a year's subscription to...that reminds me, I'm late with the payment for this year." Sodom glanced at the banner headline on the newsletter on top of the stack.
"Gotta, son. The first thing to go in a dictatorship is the people's right to information...or is that access to weaponry? I don't really remember." Sodom nodded. "We've got to get to California. Can you help us at all?" Mason shook his head. "I can't get wrapped up in this, man. I got a good thing going here. I go to bed when I want, I wake up when I want, I eat when I want, I take a shi-" Ken moaned. "We get it." "I'll tell you who could help, though. The Monthly Basketcase has another subscriber in the city. We've crossed paths before. Goes by the name of Renfeld. Won't answer to anything else. Believe me, I tried." "Where can we find Renfeld?" "Dunno. Renfeld keeps moving. Never stays in one spot for too long. They get to you easier that way, you know. Frankly, I'd be more concerned about Renfeld finding you." "Why do you say that?" Ken picked his head up. "Let's just say you guys are pretty famous at the moment in underground circles. I'd watch your back if I were you, not everyone's gonna be as helpful as I was." "Arigatou, Rick-san. We appreciate your help." "Don't mention it. Seriously. I'd get moving as fast as you can, and you might want to change your looks too. Maybe I'm overreacting, but you can never be too careful." Sodom rose from the table and bowed. "C'mon, Ken-san, we need to get you back home!" Ken moaned and slowly took his feet. The two made their way to the door of the shack and outside. Mason watched them leave until they were just a speck on the horizon. He said nothing, and simply walked back into his house, closing the door behind him as he did so. The barkeep put down the glass and rag. He'd been wiping the damn thing for the past hour now, watching the trenchcoat-wearing figure in the corner. The figure made him a little uneasy, so he was trying to remain calm and natural. Like most people do when they try to remain calm and natural, he was failing miserably. It wasn't that the figure looked all that odd. Just a trenchcoat-wearing figure. He guessed it was male, though it could well have been female. It wasn't that people sitting in bars for long periods of time made him nervous, either. In fact, he encouraged that sort of behavior. What made him uneasy is that in the five hours the figure had been here, it had never once ordered a drink. What kind of person goes to a bar and doesn't order a drink? He figured initially they were just there for the ambience, though he dismissed that thought when he realized that nobody goes to a bar for ambience, either. Waiting for someone? They'd been waiting a long time. Must be an imporant date, if indeed that was what it was. But nobody waits five hours for a date, no matter how important it is. After a certain point, you cut your losses and leave. Besides, if they had been stood up, he was certain they would have ordered a drink, which led back into his original thought. So he'd stood there mindlessly wiping a shot glass for a while, trying to figure the person out. He glanced at the clock. Closing time. Better try to roust them out. "Hey, you!" he yelled. "Time to get goin', eh?" The figure simply sat there, unmoving. "Can you hear me? Or are you just ignoring me? I gotta close up, you can come back tomorrow!" No response. "All right, that's it." He walked over to the table and grabbed Trenchcoat by the shoulder. "Listen, pal, it's time to-" His sentence was cut short as the figure wheeled around and grabbed him by the throat, slamming him against the wall. He could feel the air beginning to leave his body as his windpipe slowly began to collapse and the...thing's hand clenched around his throat. He stared into its eyes, cold ones that glowed with an eerie green light. This thing ain't human... was his last thought before blackness engulfed him. Biological lifeform....eradicated.
Ken and Sodom stood in front of the Circle K, planning their next move. They had recently made a stop at the Goodwill store for a quick identity change. Ken wore a yellow jacket, baggy slacks, a Motorhead T-shirt, and a black spandex hat over his long blonde hair. Sodom wore a black trenchcoat, green t-shirt, and a baseball cap he had somehow managed to turn backwards on his bizarrely-shaped head. "All right," Ken said. "We need to find Renfeld. Let's make that our first priority." "He said that Renfeld never stays in one place for long. How are we going to find him?" "Don't know." Sodom tapped a passing woman on the shoulder. "Excuse me, miss, have you seen a Renfeld anywhere around here?" He got a face full of Mace for his efforts. Ken grabbed him by the back of his mask, which he had insisted on wearing even though it would give away their identity (It's the way of the samurai!, he'd insisted), and pulled him aside. "Look, we don't know who or what is after us, so it's not a good idea to go announcing to any random passerby that we're here, OK? Just do me a favor and keep the stupid in check for right now, willya?" "Ken-san! You're back to normal!" Sodom sounded oddly cheerful for a man who has just been sprayed with Mace. He attempted to wipe his eyes out as Ken paced back and forth. "OK, you should be able to help me out here. Where's a good place for weirdos to hang out?" "In front of convenience stores?" Sodom said without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You're a lot of help." "Thank you!" He continued rubbing at his eyes. Ken started to walk towards the park. "Come on, moron, we're gonna go for a stroll. Maybe the blood will get flowing to our brains." Sodom blinked and followed. The park was suprisingly idyllic for being in the middle of the city. The impossibly green grass gently blew in the wind as though it were at some sort of imaginary rock concert. A steady, calming whoosh of water was faintly heard as a fountain in the middle of the park bubbled and sprayed. Kids laughed and shrieked as they played, their mothers running behind them yelling and clucking their tongues, telling them not to get their clothes dirty. For the first time in a while, pangs of homesickness hit Ken. He wondered how Mel was doing, and if Eliza was alright. They must be worried sick about him. He felt tears begin to sting his eyes, but shook his head to make them go away. Now wasn't the time. Now was the time to figure out how to get back to them. For lunch, they ate corn dogs from a vendor's cart. Sodom asked what was in them, and the vendor shrugged. Ken thought he heard meowing and squawking noises from inside the cart. He wrote that off as hunger-induced delirium, but the corn dog still tasted funny. As they sat and chewed, they wondered how this could get any worse. Sodom felt a light tap on the back of his head and saw a note drop into his lap. He whipped his head around, but saw nobody. Ken picked up the note and read it.
"C'mon, lunchbox, we gotta get to the pier." It was dark, and a low fog hung over the pier. The faint smell of fish wafted through the air, and Ken noted the fishing boats and cannery at the other end of the docks. It was a fairly warm night, but he shivered anyway. A freshly-painted sign reading "Pier 87" hung over the docks on which they were currently standing. They walked down one of the docks, the water lapping against the wooden supports as they did. Neither one spoke for a while. Sodom broke the silence. "Is that the warehouse?" It was a dilapidated, run-down mess of a building that looked like it was only standing up out of sheer bloody-mindedness. The pier maintenance crews had been attempting to get a permit to tear it down for a long time, but it had been lost in the bureaucracy and red tape of the New Jersey state legislature for the past three years, during which the warehouse had become a favorite spot for all sorts of shady business. New shady businesses had to take a number and wait for their chance to use the facility. "I guess," Ken said. The gigantic doors shrieked in protest as Ken attempted to push them apart. He managed to get enough of an opening for the two to fit through as they walked through into the musty-smelling darkness. The quiet squeaks and yelps of various rodents could be heard echoing throughout the massive interior of the building. Ken and Sodom's cautious footsteps were a deafening two-part symphony no matter how quietly they tried to walk. Ken felt a whoosh of air and then the cold steel of a gun barrel against his neck. He saw that Sodom was in much the same predicament out of the corner of his eye. Damn! I should have been watching my back, he thought, even though he knew that it probably wouldn't have done any good anyway. He just felt like somebody needed to hold accountability. "You boys
are in big trouble," a voice that was colder than the gun barrels
intoned. Ken knew it was true. Back to the chapter archives | Back to the archive updates |