Comeuppance

The blond-haired man walked into the Half-Moon roadhouse. The place was lightly filled with a mix of people – mostly blue-collar – peppering the establishment. He walked up to the counter and sat down. In a few moments, the waitress came over.

What I do for financing… he sighed to himself.

She was stunning. Dark hair with reddish highlights framed a heart-shaped face with glowing skin and kohl-lined eyes. “Hi hon, what can I get you?” The man noticed that her name tag said “Patty” and gave her a smile.

“Coffee and a piece of pie to start. Thanks.”

* * *

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

The aggravations never seemed to end. The phones never stopped ringing and nearly every time, it was a complaint about an order. The suppliers were throttling back on the raw materials because of the cash flow difficulties, and several of his best customers had left him for the competition. Plus the technicians working for him now were making mistakes left and right in finishing his designs.

“Boss?” Beth came into the office, a quizzical look on her face. “I’ve got someone on the line that wants to talk to you.”

“I’m busy. Tell him I’ll call him back.”

She refused to budge. “Whoever this guy is, he knows about the problems we’re having. All the gory details. He said he wants to help you out.”

It was the blond-haired man’s turn to look askance. Never look a gift horse in the mouth.
He picked up the phone.

“Hello?”
 
“Mr. Gilbert? Thank you for speaking with me. I’m interested in making a cash injection into your company. I’m aware of the difficulties you’ve been experiencing lately, and I’d like to help.” The voice on the other end of the line had a soft, southern accent, but there was an edge of steel in the voice; the blond owner shivered at the controlled power of command coming from the receiver.

“I’m listening, Mr … “

“Travis. Miles Travis. Would you be willing to discuss this further?”

Caution and greed fought for supremacy. Greed won out. “Sure.”

“Fine. I’ll set up the arrangements.” The line went dead.

* * *

The next morning, a Fedex envelope arrived with a round-trip airline ticket to Frank Sikes Airport and a car rental agreement. All prepaid.

Beth’s eyes widened. “This guy means business, doesn’t he?”

“Looks like it. I’ll be gone for a few days.” He winked. “Keep the chair warm for me…”

* * *

Patty refilled the coffee cup.

“Do you know Miles Travis, Patty?”

She smiled and nodded. “He’s one of our regulars. Rich as Croesus, and he always has lunch here. You waiting for him?”

Gilbert nodded.

“He’ll be in shortly. No worries.”

The blond popped another forkful of pie into his mouth. He heard the door open behind him and the conversation around him dried up. He swung around and the fork dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers and clanged onto the linoleum.

Two men had entered the establishment and flanked the door. Both were over six feet high and their well-muscled torsos and arms were barely concealed by the worn biker jackets. What made his mouth go dry was their faces. One looked like a primordial demon – a bald ape-like face with a scraggly goatee was  topped by large curling horns; the other was a Frankenstein monster come to life – greenish-yellow skin was pulled over a brutal-looking face that was held together by metallic staples. Both men – he thought of them as enforcer types – wore tight, faded jeans tucked into high engineer boots and black leather search gloves. The demon turned around to lock the door; Gilbert saw the strange humanoid face on the back of the jacket with the words “Rubber Junkies” blazing over it.

Two sets of eyes bored into him. In a flash, he knew this had been a trap – he stood up and ran into the back of the restaurant.

His heart hammering in his chest, the blond looked back to see if the two were following him. Something slammed him hard in the chest and he fell backwards onto the floor, stunned.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going, blondie?” a voice above him growled.

Gilbert looked up to see another man … thing … in his path – hands on his hips. This one was somewhat smaller than the two that had entered the roadhouse, but dressed in a similar fashion – black leather biker jacket, gloves, jeans and heavy boots. Every muscle flexed and rippled through the thin material of his t-shirt as he reached down and pulled the terrified man to his feet. The shorter biker was a demon – rusty colored skin covered an inhumanly handsome face. A well-trimmed moustache and goatee covered his lips and chin, and dark hair tumbled over a forehead punctuated by two small ivory horns. Pale brown eyes – jewel like in their brightness – stared at the man and held him spellbound. Gilbert suddenly found himself immobile - his arms clamped by the two other nightmare figures.

The demon removed a small bottle from the inside of his jacket and poured the contents into a hankerchief and approached the captive man.

“Nooooo!!!!” he wailed and struggled as the fabric was pushed against his nose and mouth as he was forced to inhale the sweet vapor. In a few moments, his struggling ceased and he lay limp in the arms of the two enforcers.

The demon grinned. It was amazing how the mask conformed to every movement of his face. “Get him in the van. Let’s get this over with.”

The two enforcers dragged the unconscious man out through the back alley to a nondescript van with darkened windows. The demon tapped on the driver’s side window and it rolled down to expose an alien-looking clown. Green hair draped around the sides and back of the chalky white head; pointed white ears provided a sinister counterpoint to the makeup and sly grin on the evil face.

“No problems?”

The demon shook his head. “None whatsoever."

"You got the cuffs?”

The evil clown grinned, exposing needle-sharp teeth. “Never go anywhere without a few pair … they’re in the back.”

The demon walked around the front of the van and got into the passenger side.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly like a reluctant lover to the blond man. As he regained awareness, he found himself bound tightly to a heavy wooden chair.

“So this is the damn thorn in my side? Doesn’t look like much, does he?”

Gilbert raised his head to look at another monster. This one had yellowish, mottled skin with pointed ears. A sardonic grin curled around dark lips. It … he … leaned back in a straight-backed wooden chair, the heavily-booted feet crossed on the table in front of him. The handsome demon was leaning against the wall; he had removed his jacket and the muscular, russet arms were crossed over his slabbed chest.

“Nope, he doesn’t. But it’s my job to get these annoyances out of your way.”

The demon pushed away from the wall and sauntered over to the captive man. He grabbed a fistful of bleached hair and pulled Gilbert’s head up and back. He turned back to the yellow imp.

“Do you still have that drum of the weird batch of silicone? The one that had the super-adherence problem?”

The other monster nodded. “Yeah, I was going to send it back and get a credit…”

The demon shook his head and smiled, “You know, I always wanted to see a full body Tar Man Zombie …”

The imp looked surprised, then pleased. He stroked his chin.

“The gang could use the practice …” he mused.

“What are you going to do to me?!” The blond man screamed.

The demon slapped him. Hard. “Nothing that you haven’t brought on yourself.” He walked over to the table and picked up a hypodermic. He held it up to the light and tapped it to remove any bubbles and a small spray of clear fluid exited the tip. He gave the captive a matter-of-fact glance.

“You’re going to take another little nap and when you wake up, you’ll be the best looking zombie ever. And the silicone will never come off. Of course, we'll need to cut your tongue out as well. Real zombies don't talk.”

The demon pushed the hypodermic into an engorged vein and soon the captive man lolled unconscious in the chair. The imp got up and looked at his subject.

He turned to the demon. “Damn … you don’t fuck around, do you?”

A russet arm snaked itself over the imp’s broad shoulders. “Nope. You stretch forth your hand and I close my fist around whatever you need … let’s get the bodycast started.”

* * * 
Welcome to the first entry to the world that is Shadow Hills! I'll be posting some guidelines for stories, characters and locations in a tab at the top of the blog. All stories and pictures are welcome, as well as maps, 3D rendering of buildings ... anything that adds another dollop of reality to this imaginary realm.

Stay tuned!