Cineverse - Bride Of The Slime Monster Part 5

"What do you mean?" Louie asked. "We've already seen Captain Crusader!"

"In three different disguises," Doc reminded the sidekick, "as a masked marshal, a tribal chieftain, and a mysterious island drummer. And, every time we're about to discover his true ident.i.ty, he spouts one of those sayin's of his. You know-"The Dewey Decimal System is your friend!' or some such-and then he ups and disappears. Does that sound to you like a fella who wants to be found?''

"I never thought of it like that," Louie admitted.

Delores nodded in admiration of Doc's reasoning. "That means there's more than one secret out there. Not only are we unaware of the fine points of Doctor Dread's plan to conquer the Cineverse, we don't even know the true direction of Captain Crusader's counterplan."

"If he even has one," Doc added gently.

"But, that's almost unthinkable!" Delores objected. "He's Captain Crusader! He must have a plan!"

"I'm sure he had one, once,'' Doc replied, still not raising his voice. "But the Change did more than bring unhappy endings to the Cineverse. Think of what it's done to us, and to all those around us. What if the alterations that have occurred in the very fabric of the Cineverse have affected its ultimate hero?"

"You mean," Louie said in horror, "what if the Change changed Captain Crusader?"

"It's certainly possible." Doc agreed. "It's just a little somethin' I studied when I held the Wild Bill Hickok Philosophy Chair at Western States University. That was, of course, before I became the Tombstone town drunk." He stared moodily at the bottle before him. "But I brought it up to make a point. With things the way they are now, we can't take nothin' for granted."

"You've changed, Doc," Delores mentioned.

The cowpoke pushed the bottle away. "All things in moderation." He looked back up at Delores. "When I first met Roger, he inspired me. He wasn't content to just let the plot go by. He wanted to change things, for the better! He reminded me of my heroin'

days, before the bottle got the better of me. I swore I'd lay off the sauce, and for a while, the action and adventurin' saw me through. But playing the town drunk in a thousand Western plots has taken its toll. I can be a hero, still, but I gotta be a little drunk, first. And I can get drunk on almost any thin'."

"So that's why your slur's gone!" Delores exclaimed.

"Yes, it is, little missy," Doc modestly agreed. "Simply said, I shall certainly sustain a successful level of sobriety. She sells sea sh.e.l.ls down by the sea sho-"

The doors to the gin joint slammed open. Slamming doors, machine-gun fire, people staggering out of clothing stores in the night-Delores reminded herself that all this was nothing to worry about. Still, any hopes that the gin joint might be in the same sort of neighborhood as Second Avenue Second Hand evaporated when Delores heard the diabolical laughter.

"How-convenient!" Dread's oily voice shouted over the sound of countless minions filing into the bar. ' "That we should find the very ones we seek, hiding in a bar owned by"-he hesitated triumphantly-"Bertha's uncle!"

"Oh, yeah," Louie said in a small voice, "did I tell you that Dread's number-one- henchperson was also my sister?"

"Lucky for us," Doc chuckled, "this here suit has large enough pockets for my six- shooters."

The jungle prince stood abruptly, almost tipping over the table. "Zabana say we save Cineverse!"

Delores cursed her foolishness as she stood, too, her back to the wall. She had forgotten about Louie's sister. And the fact that this wasn't only Louie's home planet, but was Dread's base of operations as well.

The henchmen continued to file in, row on row of slouch hats and double-breasted pin stripes. Delores had never seen so many minions! What other mistakes had she made?

She had let her concern for Roger and the Cineverse get in the way of her own self- preservation. Now, she might not only have sealed her own fate, but the fates of the three men who had trusted her.

The door slammed behind the last of Dread's lackeys. But there must have been close to a hundred of them, all crammed into this tiny neighborhood bar, all smiling evilly beneath their broad-brimmed hats as they lifted their gats and roscoes to finish off the four heroes standing in the corner. And in the center of them all was Doctor Dread, his green snakesuit costume gleaming malevolently even in the bar's dim light, and Big Bertha, who was wearing something that looked an awful lot like a black vinyl jumpsuit!

"De-lor-es," Doctor Dread jeered, speaking so slowly that every syllable was like a separate word."How- pleasant-for us. How-unpleasant-for you."

But Delores refused to be shaken by the evildoer's taunts. Somehow she'd best this beast with his hundred helpers! And even more than that, she wouldn't be shot by a woman in a costume that-by all rights of heroic priority-should be hers! There must be some way out of this! She had to find one, for the sake of Roger, and the Cineverse!

"But I am not without my-mercy," Dread allowed. "Tell me, De-lor-es, do I hear any last-groveling- pleas to spare your-worthless lives?"

For her answer, Delores spat on his polished snakeskin shoes.

"Very well." The King of Crime looked meaningfully at his room full of minions. "You know what to do, men." Dread hesitated tellingly. "Discard them!"

"Hey, boss!" someone shouted. "Who let in this dog?"

Dog? Delores thought.

That's when all the guns went off.

^ ^ 5 ^ ^

"ATOMIC DISASTER!".

"Mrrssrrss!"

Roger was pushed roughly to the ground. He looked up, and saw the great bulk of the Mad Mumbler standing between him and Sneer's knife. The gang leader had somehow moved even faster than his lackey, saving Roger from a blade in his chest!

"Jsss Crssssss!" the Mumbler yelled down at the trembling Sneer. "Mnnff Mffnn!"

"Yeah, boss?" Sneer stared down at his switchblade, somewhat shaken. "What was that?"

"Wsskssoiss mffnnifnn!" the Mumbler insisted.

Sneer stared back at his boss. "You didn't say to cut him?"

The gang leader made a slas.h.i.+ng motion with his hand. "Mssxxmm vbbllmm!"

"Oh! You said for me to cut it out!"

"Wccsblffmm znrrgssbll!"

"Oh, is that what you meant?" Sneer shrugged. "Well, I can't help it if you won't speak up!"

"Jrsdlpplll!" The Mumbler pushed Sneer back into the sand with a flick of his hand.

Roger found himself grabbed by the gang leader's free hand, which was the approximate size of an uncanned ham, and hoisted back to his feet.

Sneer picked himself up and brushed himself off, muttering something about people who mumbled idioms under their breaths.

"Srrbbbttt," the leader mumbled in Roger's direction.

Roger made an expression that he hoped was a friendly smile. "Don't worry. No harm done."

"Srrzzssmm!" the Mumbler screamed.

Oh, no, Roger thought. Not this again.

"No, I am not being sarcastic!" Roger yelled back. "Don't you know when somebody's trying to be friendly?"

Roger felt a hand on either shoulder. He looked back, and saw Frankie on one side, Brian on the other.

"I don't know how to put this to you, but-" Frankie began."n.o.body's ever friendly with the Motorcycle Mob-" Brian continued.

Frankie added: "It just isn't done-"

Brian explained: "It's one of the Rules of the Beach-"

'' Yeah!'' Frankie exclaimed."Right up there with 'Shoes and s.h.i.+rts must be worn at all times when in this-'''

"Well, I'm changing the rules here and now!" Roger admitted it; he was sick and tired of the rigamarole he encountered every time he landed on a new movie world. That was one of the hidden dangers of the Cineverse-one wrong move, and you could be caught up in some local plot for hours, even days. He had spent far too long in this place already. He had certainly blown any chance of rescuing anybody. Delores might be dead right now, or in the hands of that archfiend, Doctor Dread. And what was Roger doing? Having a conversation with a bunch of beach-blanket bozos!

Or at least he was until he had made that declaration. Now, there was not a sound around him except for the surf breaking on the sand. Everyone-surfers, beach bunnies, the Motorcycle Mob, Bix Bale and the Belltones-they were all staring at him, and, of the entire incredibly tanned group, only Dee Dee looked the least bit friendly.

"Oops," Roger said aloud. Perhaps, by speaking his mind, he had broken an even bigger rule.

"Tee hee hee," Dee Dee giggled sympathetically.

The Mad Mumbler's voice broke the silence: "Bssfzzll!"

Sneer's smile once again stretched across his lips. "Yeah, big boss man. Maybe we were too easy on him.'' He stroked the handle of his switchblade.

Roger could see it happening all over again. This corner of the Cineverse wanted to force him back into a role. He felt the anger growing inside him once again.

"Oh, no!" he declared. "I'm not going through this again!"

The Mumbler made a strangling motion with his hands. "Thrssnnddll!"

"Yeah, boss, threats don't worry him, do they?" Sneer twirled his knife toward the surrounding surfers. "Maybe we should cut up his friends, too."

All the surfers took a step away. All except one.

Dee Dee still giggled at Roger's side.

Roger realized he'd done it now. It was time to make his stand. But he had to use his anger in the right sort of way- a way that would work for him in the Cineverse. If he was going to be forced into a role, it would be a role of his own choosing. He wished he had a toothpick to chew on, or a pack of Luckies he could roll up inside the sleeve of his T-s.h.i.+rt-that is, if he had a T-s.h.i.+rt. But he didn't have time to find props; he'd have to do it on style alone. He planted both feet firmly in the sand and stared at the members of the Motorcycle Mob.

"Nah, you can't change my mind with threats. I'm not just gonna change the rules-"

He paused dramatically. "I'm gonna make up my own-"

Everyone around him gasped as a group. It clearly was the sort of thing that Was Not Done on a beach party planet. But Roger knew there was no backing down, especially where there was a motorcycle gang around. Especially a motorcycle gang that had now all drawn their switchblades.

Maybe, Roger considered, he had gone too far.

The other motorcycle members smiled to match Sneer.

It wouldn't do him any good to be this angry, if he was also dead.

Many of their smiles were missing many of their teeth.

But he had gotten out of situations worse than this in the Cine verse.

The gang members picked at their teeth with their knives.

Once again, Roger told himself to think like a movie.

My, they certainly were nice, long, sharp knives.

He swallowed, then finished his sentence.

"-even if it takes riding the Cowabunga-munga to do it!"

And everyone took another step away. Their collective gasp this time held a hint of awe. The knife-wielders paused in their teeth picking, their blades ready to cut through the tension-filled air at any second.

They all knew Roger was proposing a surfing duel.

"That's pretty big talk-" Frankie ventured.

"We've never even seen you surf-" Brian mentioned.

"Yeah, man! Where's your board-" Frankie added.

"And, like, the big wave isn't even coming until tomorrow!" Brian concluded.

"Sounds like some kind of ho-daddy excuse to me!" Sneer brandished his blade. "I say we cut him anyway!"

"Gllffgrrggll!" the Mumbler agreed.The other gang members all started talking at once.

"Yeah, blood!"

They laughed nastily.

"The girl, too!"

They chuckled disagreeably.

"-carve some initials-"

They guffawed coa.r.s.ely.

"-real deep tattoos!"

They hooted malevolently.