F. Paul Wilson - Quick Fixes - Tales of Repairman Jack

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Finally! All the Repairman Jack short fiction - many hard to find, one nigh impossible - collected for the first time. QUICK FIXES includes: "A Day in the Life" "The Last Rakosh" "Home Repairs" "The Long Way Home" "The Wringer" "Interlude at Duane’s" "Do-Gooder" "Piney Power" plus author introductions to each story.

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“What is it, Vicks? What’s the matter?”

“The monster! The monster that took me to the boat! It’s here! Don’t let it get me!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said soothingly in her ear. “No one can hurt you when I’m around.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gia hurrying toward them. He gently peeled Vicky off himself and transferred the child to her mother’s arms. Vicky immediately wrapped her arms and legs around Gia.

“My God, what happened?” Gia said, her expression fluctuating between fear and anger.

“She thinks she saw a rakosh.”

Gia’s eyes widened. “But that’s–”

“Impossible. Right. But maybe she saw something that looks like one.”

“No!” said Vicky from where her face was buried against her mother’s neck. “It’s one of them! I know it is!”

“Okay, Vicks,” Jack said, gently rubbing her trembling back. “I’ll check it out.” He nodded to Gia. “Why don’t you take her outside.”

“We’re on our way. After what I’ve seen here, I wouldn’t be half surprised if she really had seen one.”

“I know what you mean.”

Jack watched Gia slip through the crowd, carrying Vicky. When she was out of sight he turned and headed in the direction Vicky had come.

Wouldn’t be half surprised myself , he thought.

Not that there was a single chance in hell of one of Kusum’s rakoshi being alive. They’d all died last summer on the water between Governor’s Island and the Battery. He’d seen to that. His incendiary bombs had burned them all to a crisp in the hold of the ship that housed them. Of course there had been that one that had come ashore, the one he’d dubbed Scar lip, but it had swum back out into the burning water and had never returned. The rakoshi were dead, all of them. The species was extinct.

But if by some miracle one had survived, it might well be part of Ozymandias Oddities. Julio had given Jack the tickets last week, saying it was the weirdest show he’d ever seen. He hadn’t been kidding. Jack had never seen freaks like these. By definition freaks were supposed to be strange, but these folk went beyond strange into the positively alien. Jack hadn’t realized what the “oddities” would be. And the more he’d seen, the less comfortable he’d felt. The very idea of deformed people putting themselves on display repulsed him; it was demeaning; and those who paid to gawk seemed as demeaned as the freaks on display; maybe more so.

But there was nothing sad or pathetic about these freaks. They were bizarre, frightening, and many seemed belligerently proud of their deformities, as if the people strolling the midway were the freaks.

And maybe we are.

Jack moved slowly, steadily through the press, glancing left and right at the little stages on which each freak was exhibited. There were animals – a two headed cow, a five legged goat – and human giants, dwarves, pinheads, and...others, less easily described. Next to a guy with tentacles for arms who called himself “Octoman” was an old circus cart with iron bars on its open side, one of the old cages on wheels once used to transport and display lions and tigers and such. The sign above it said “Man Shark.” Jack noticed people leanin across the rope border; they’d peer into the cage, then back off with uneasy shrugs.

This deserved a look.

Jack pushed to the front of the crowd and squinted into the dimly lit cage. Something was there, slumped in the left rear corner, head down, chin on chest, immobile. Something huge, a seven footer at least. Dark skinned, manlike and yet... undeniably alien.

Jack felt the skin along the back of his neck tighten as ripples of warning shot down his spine. He knew that shape. But that was all it was. A shape. So immobile. It had to be a dummy of some sort, or a guy in a rubber suit. A damn good suit. No wonder Vicky had been terrified.

But it couldn’t be the real thing. Couldn’t be...

Jack ducked under the rope and took a few tentative steps closer to the cage, sniffing the air. No stench. The one thing he remembered about the rakoshi was their stench, like rotting meat. Nothing like that here. He got close enough to touch the bars but didn’t. The thing was a damn good dummy. He could almost swear it was breathing. He whistled and whis­pered, “Hey you in there!” The thing didn’t budge. He rapped his ring on one of the iron bars. “Hey–!”

Suddenly it moved, the eyes snapping open as the head came up, deep yellow eyes that almost seemed to glow. Imagine the offspring from a pairing of a giant gorilla with a mako shark. Hairless cobalt skin, hugely muscled, no neck worth mentioning, no external ears, narrow slits for a nose. Huge talons, curved for tearing, extended from the tips of the three huge fingers on each hand as the yellow eyes fixed on Jack. The lower half of its huge shark like head seemed to split as the jaw opened to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth. It uncoiled its legs and slithered toward the front of the cage.

Along with the instinctive revulsion, the memories surged back: the cargo hold full of their dark shapes and glowing eyes, the unearthly chant, the disappearances, the deaths...

Jack backed up a step. Two. Behind him he heard the crowd Oooh and Aaah as it pressed forward for a better look. He took still another step back until he could feel their excited breaths on his neck. They didn’t know what one of these things could do, didn’t know their power, their near indestructibility. Otherwise they’d be pressing the other way.

Jack felt his heart kick up its already rising tempo when he noticed how the creature’s lower lip was distorted by a wide scar. He knew this creature, this particular rakosh. Scar lip. The one that had kidnapped Vicky, the one that had escaped Kusum’s ship and had almost got to Vicky on the shore. The one that had almost killed Jack. He ran a hand across his chest. Even through the fabric of his shirt he could feel the three long ridges that ran across his chest, souvenir scars from the creature’s talons.

Scar lip was alive.

But how? How had it survived the blaze on the water? How had it wound up on Long Island in a traveling freak show?

The creature was on its feet now, its talons encircling the iron bars, its yellow eyes burning into Jack. It knew him too.

One of the workmen came by then, a beefy roustabout with a shaven head, thin lips, and the eyes of a snake. He carried a blunt elephant gaff and rapped it against the bars.

“So you’re up, ay?” he said to the rakosh in a harsh voice. “Maybe you’ve finally learned your lesson.” He turned to the crowd. “Here he is ladies and gentleman, the one and only Man Shark. The only one of his kind. He’s exclusively on display here at Ozymandias Oddities. Tell your friends, tell your enemies. You’ve never seen anything like him and never will anywhere else. Guaranteed.” He spotted Jack. “Here, you. Get behind the rope. This thing’s dangerous! See those claws? One swipe and you’d be sliced up like a tomato by a Ginsu knife! We don’t want to see our customers get sliced up.” His eyes said otherwise as he none too gently prodded Jack with the pole. “Back now.”

Jack slipped back under the rope, never taking his eyes off Scar lip. Now that it was up front in the light, he saw that the rakosh didn’t look well. Its skin was dull, and relatively pale, nothing like the shiny deep cobalt he remembered. It looked thin, almost wasted. It stared at Jack a moment longer, then it looked down. Its talons retracted, slipping back inside the fingertips, the arms dropped to its sides, the shoulders drooped, then it turned and shuffled back to the rear of the cage where it slumped again in the corner and hung its head.

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