Gord Zajac - Major Karnage

… squiggly.

“INCOMING!” Karnage dove under the table, covering his head with his hands, waiting for the first wave of the alien attack.

It didn’t come.

“Are… are you all right, sweetheart?”

Karnage looked out from under the table. Darla stood beside the radio, her finger on the knob. She turned it off. The static went with it.

Karnage picked himself up from under the table. “Did that sound… squiggly to you?”

“Squiggly how?”

“Never mind.” Karnage sat back down. Darla gave a half smile and quickly disappeared back into the kitchen. She came out just long enough to serve Karnage his food, made a great display of looking very busy, then disappeared back into the kitchen.

Karnage tore off a chunk of zardburger and did his best to chew. She thinks you’re crazy, you damn fool. And maybe she’s got a point. Jumpin’ at the damn static from the radio. What the hell kinda soldier are you?

But the static had sounded squiggly. At least to Karnage’s ears. But had it been the right kind of squiggle? And what angle had it come in on?

Cookie would have known. But Cookie couldn’t help him now. Nor could Koch. Or Heckler. Or Velasquez. He was all that was left of his once mighty platoon.

Karnage worried a gristly bit of zardburger between his teeth. A one-man army, huh? Sounds like a goddamn hero. You don’t fancy yourself a hero, do you, soldier? We both know that heroes don’t do nothing but get folks killed.

Karnage’s ears picked up a new bit of white noise. There was nothing squiggly about it. It was the high-pitched buzz of an engine. He looked out the window. A pair of lights crested the horizon. They floated down the long strip of highway, weaving back and forth. There was something in the way they moved that put the hairs on the back of his neck on end. They weaved across the road like they owned it, and were hoping like hell somebody would try and challenge them on it. A pair of smaller red lights flashed to life below the larger white ones.

Karnage scowled. “Cops.” He pulled the golf club up against his thigh.

The flashing lights pulled into the parking lot. They were attached to bikes hovering inches above the ground on spheres like those on Flaherty’s car. The cops floated to a stop right outside Karnage’s window, their beams shining in his face. Two helmeted silhouettes were just visible beyond the glare of the lights. The lights flicked off, and the silhouettes dismounted. They stood at the window, looking in at Karnage. Karnage ignored them. He took a bite of his zardburger and pretended to enjoy it. The figures moved from the window and headed for the door.

The bell above the double doors chimed.

Karnage kept a discreet eye on the cops through the reflection in the window. They had kept their helmets on. The mirrored visors masked their faces. The helmets were stylized Dabby Tabby heads. Stubby ears jutted from the top. A nose and a pair of eyes were sculpted into the helmet just above the mirrored visor. Their boots made a sharp clack-stomp against the linoleum. The badges on their chests were sculpted out of Dabby’s silhouette, and embroidered in gold thread. The DC logo in its centre bore a striking resemblance to the “DRINK DC COLA” sign hanging above the counter. They stopped in front of Karnage’s booth. Karnage saw a gloved thumb rubbing the end of his night stick.

“Hi there,” the taller of the two cops said.

Karnage tore off another chunk of zardburger, chewed slowly, and swallowed.

The fatter cop put a hand on his night stick. “Hey. My partner’s talkin’ to you.”

Karnage picked up the pitcher and drank. He took large exaggerated swallows. He tilted his head back and drained the pitcher while he wrapped his fingers around the golf club nestled by his thigh. He placed the empty pitcher back on the table and wiped his mouth.

“Hey!” Bad cop smashed the pitcher off the table. “I’m talkin’ to you!”

Good cop placed a hand on bad cop’s shoulder. “Take it easy there, Harvey.”

Karnage looked straight at bad cop’s mirrored visor. “You best listen to Princess there, Harvey.”

Bad cop shrugged good cop’s hand off his shoulder. “You hear what he just called you?!”

“I did,” Princess’s tone remained neutral.

Harvey’s face went red. “You gonna just stand there and take it?!”

“We’re going to do this like the captain said.”

“He’s not my captain.”

“He’s our captain until brass says otherwise.”

“Oh yeah? Well fuck brass!”

Karnage grinned to himself. Maybe their good cop/bad cop routine is more than just an act.

“Jesus, Harvey! Not now.”

“Yeah, Harvey. Learn your place,” Karnage said.

Harvey’s face went purple. He pointed a gloved finger at Karnage. “You need to learn a thing or two about respect, old man.”

“Care to give me a demonstration?” Karnage said.

Harvey grinned. “If you insist.” He went for his night stick.

Karnage was quicker. His fist came up with the golf club and smashed Harvey across the face. The visor crumpled inward. The golf club shouted “Fat Shot” while the Sanity Patch crooned “Peachy Keen.” Harvey grunted and staggered backwards, blood oozing from the crumpled visor. He dropped to the floor.

“Harvey!” Princess grabbed his taser and fired. Karnage slid under the table. The taser barbs slammed into the bench leather inches above his head. Karnage shoved himself out from under the table, slamming Princess in the shins. Princess fell. Karnage leaped atop him and smashed his helmet against the floor. The Sanity Patch crooned “Tangy Orange” as Karnage bodily hefted Princess up and launched him through the plate glass window. Princess’s scream was drowned out by the sound of shattering glass.

The Sanity Patch buzzed again. “Warning. Sanity Level upgraded to Sharp Cheddar. Please refrain—”

“Shut up. I’m trying to hear something.” Karnage strained his ears. There, just beyond the soothing tones of the Sanity Patch, Karnage could make out more high-pitched buzzing. This time mixed with sirens.

Karnage pulled Harvey’s gun from its holster and vaulted through the shattered window. In the distance, he could see a flood of flickering red and white lights barrelling towards him on the highway.

“Shit!” Karnage jumped on the nearest hoverbike. It bobbed and swayed, nearly tipping over. Karnage struggled to keep his balance. A screen on the centre console flashed to life.

“Please place your palm on the scanner for biometric—”

“Shit-shit- shit!” Karnage punched the screen.

“Warning. Sanity level upgraded to—”

“Shut up!”

Karnage jumped off the bike and ran back into the diner. He grabbed Harvey’s moaning body and threw it through the broken window. He upturned tables and chairs, propping them in the windows, bracing them against the doors.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Karnage turned around. Charlie stood in the kitchen doorway, thrusting the mop forward like a spear.

“Defensive perimeter.” Karnage ripped a booth table from the floor. Tiles and sheared bolts flew in all directions. “Dunno how much good this formica shit will be against bullets, but at least it’ll give me some cover. You keep any ordnance around here? Artillery? Heavy weapons?”

Upchuck looked at his mop, then back at Karnage. He shook his head.

“How about emergency rations? No? Guess it don’t matter much. It’s a restaurant, right? Gotta have at least some food supplies. Don’t look so worried, bub. I been in tougher scrapes ’n this. I’ll get us outta here alive.”