The Black Fossil

  Chapter V – Escaping the Tedium of the Chase

  Jim Stalin looked at the body of his short term partner and knew that he had little choice but to continue with this ridiculous plot device. His mind filled with the rage that should only come from the loss of a good friend, but in this case was devoted to Alexandra who he had known through less than eight thousand words of story.

  "Grab him," James Mickenbacher said, "Let’s get this one taken care of before he can cause any problems."

  "You really don’t think it is going to be that easy, do you?" Reizvolle asked him in an arousing manner, "He is the hero of the story, after all."

  "Watch him survive this," James said, firing two shots at Jim Stalin, "Die!"

  "Please," Jim said, "You didn’t even hit me."

  James looked at his gun and made sure it fired. It did and he was sure his aim was good. He growled and went over to Jim Stalin and put the barrel of the gun up to Stalin’s forehead. He was not really thinking straight at this point. If he was he would have looked at the dust jacket and seen that Jim’s name was mentioned there multiple times and his was not mentioned at all.

  "Pull the trigger," Jim dared him, staring him in the eyes, "You don’t have the balls!"

  "You won’t have any either!" James yelled, getting irrationally angry at the futility of his position, "What did you do to get this immortal status?"

  "Easy," Jim said, "I’m the hero of the story. I thought you knew that."

  This answer pissed James off even farther. He raised the weapon again and pulled the trigger, about two millimeters from Jim’s head. Jim closed his eyes to protect from what he knew was about to happen. James Mickenbacher’s gun exploded when he pulled the trigger, sending pieces backwards into the minor villain’s hand and body. Jim, of course, was not touched by anything more than a superficial wound from the exploding gunpowder.

  "Nice," Reizvolle said alluringly, "Thank you for a completely pointless display, James."

  "Adam!" James exclaimed, "Why don’t you try it?"

  "And end up dead as fast as you’re going to?" Adam Dirtpassion asked him, "I don’t think so."

  Even the mooks backed up away from James, knowing that as the direct murderer of Alexandra he was not going to live much longer. The mooks are here to be cannon fodder, something they all knew, but they had no earthly desire to die as badly as James was heading for.

  "Get the artifact!" Adam yelled at the mooks, "Get it while James is fighting for his life!"

  The mooks went and tore the clothes off Alexandra’s corpse looking for the artifact. Jim tried to go over there, but he did not have the ability to push through about two dozen mooks, especially with a very pissed off villain type person trying to start the final fight with him. Jim turned around and punched James Mickenbacher in the nose while the mooks fought with Alexandra’s corpse.

  "You know," Jim told James, "You are a pain in the ass."

  "So what do you intend to do about it?" James asked, "Kill me?"

  "Sounds like a decent plan to me," Jim agreed, "Let’s go for it!"

  Jim Stalin launched himself at the really annoying villain who was trying very hard to make himself smaller. James launched a few good shots at Jim mainly because no one ever lands a bad shot. The bad ones tend to end up on the editing room floor while the good ones land on the hero or the villain and look really good.

  While Jim and James were fighting Adam and Reizvolle got their mooks together and took the artifact from Alexandra’s torn up body and put it into a rather non-descript case that could have come from any of a hundred bad adventure stories in the past. In fact, I think this one was surplus from the script of the first Indiana Jones movie. They started in convoy form and before long the only people in the area were James Mickenbacher, three mooks and our hero.

  "Looks like they’re leaving you behind," Jim said, "Expecting you to kill me all by your lonesome?"

  "Of course," James told him, "If they all ganged up on you at once you wouldn’t have a chance to escape. We have to make mistakes like this early so that it doesn’t look anywhere near as stupid when you get really incredibly lucky later on."

  "That makes sense," Jim said, "We’re also running quite a bit behind on the nanowrimo word count, so we’re probably going to have a nice long even fight."

  "I wouldn’t guess so much even," James agreed, "But long and drawn out is a virtual certainty now."

  "By all means then," Jim said, "Would you like to start this or should I?"

  "We will!" one of the mooks exclaimed, "Time to die, hero!"

  Jim let off a perfect side kick into that mook’s nose that shoved the cartilage right up into the unidentified man’s brain. He died, of course, as a result of a maneuver that has been rumored to be possible for years, but of course has not been able to be proved in existence. The fact that Jim also is spitting out moves that would be better suited to a high level black belt in multiple forms of karate.

  James got into a position not unlike a Karate master that would never even consider getting into a fight as long and pointless as this one was turning out to be. The fact that he was wearing a slightly blood stained suit, a gift from the mook that parented him and sent him out named into the world to be beaten on in this fight, just made the whole scene more comical.

  "So what do you have to say for yourself?" Jim asked him, "Ready for your big moment in the sun?"

  "Of course," James agreed, "This is what I was born for!"

  James let off the first kick, a short jab of one that went for Jim’s knees. Jim managed to dodge it and send James flying over against the wall that somehow popped up out of nowhere from behind Stalin. James shook his head and tried to clear his vision.

  "Forget your glasses?" Jim asked him, "Need lasik the hard way?"

  "The hard way?" James asked him, "What would that be?"

  "With me using my fist to reshape your eyeballs?" Jim asked as he punched James in the face twice, "I’m sure I can do about as good a job as a surgeon.

  "That’s quite all right. I won’t be living long," James said, "Lasik would be a waste of time that I will no longer need in just about five hundred words or so unless I miss my guess."

  "About that," Jim agreed, "Ok, let’s keep fighting for a while so we can make this scene suck a little less like a Hoover and a bit more like a porn star."

  "Works as a plan for me," James "Shall we continue?"

  "Of course," Jim said, "Let’s beat on each other for a while."

  The remaining mooks watched as Jim and James beat on each other needlessly for a while. The whole thing did not really advance the plot very much, in fact it makes the plot weaker by removing the one person most directly responsible for Alexandra’s death about thirteen hundred words earlier. This did not stop them in any way, however as they intended to beat on each other until everyone got bored, including the guy who is writing this dreck.

  Finally sensing that it was time for James to get at least a false sense of victory before he met the great mook god in the sky, he kicked Jim in the stomach and sent him rolling over backwards. The mooks looked surprised by this and looked over at their boss to try to figure out what they were supposed to do. They knew they were there to supposedly protect their boss and to be cannon fodder, but they didn’t know what to do with a downed hero.

  "Pick his sorry ass up!" James explained, "I’m going to at least get one good hit on the son of a bitch before he kills me off."

  James got a few obligatory hits on Jim’s torso, though none of them were going to do more than annoy the hero and at most break a rib or something. Jim went through the pain as he was supposed to do, knowing with grim satisfaction that he would be kicking some serious ass before long. The mooks held him back against the wall and James made sure that he at least broke a rib before Jim could start taking over this battle.

  "Ok," Jim said, "We’ve wasted enough words on this idiotic fight. Time to end it."

  Jim used his
hero’s strength reserve to muster up the energy to pull his arms out and smack the mooks’ heads together in a move that would have been well placed in a Three Stooges short. The mooks died, of course, being as that is what mooks are there for. This left James Mickenbacher alone with a pumped up and pissed off hero.

  "Ummm," James said, "I don’t think there’s any chance that I can go get a coffee on the other side of the island or something, is there?"

  Jim Stalin grinned his bright hero type grin and shook his head negatively. He took in a deep breath and performed a showy and completely unnecessary karate maneuver and got into a stance that looked better than it was actually useful. He cracked his neck in a way that made James Mickenbacher cringe.

  "It is time to pay," Jim said, "Any last words?"

  "Ummm," James said, "Sorry?"

  "That’s it?" Jim asked.

  "How about this?" James said, thinking hard, "Thank you?"

  "Thank me?" Jim said, "What do you think this is? Some idiotic commercial where I’m going to forgive your transgression just because you thanked me?"

  "I have something to lose at this point?" Mickenbacher asked reasonably, "Think about this…"

  "True," Jim said, "But it’s time for you to meet your doom."

  Jim went over and picked up the same gun that James had shot Alexandra with some eighteen hundred words ago and aimed it at the bad guy who has a long name that I do not wish to type right now. The bad guy cringed, knowing that he was about to die like the named mook he has always been.

  "Eat lead, numb nuts," Jim said and pulled the trigger.

  James Mickenbacher waited for the lead to hit him, but the first shot went wide. The second and third shots were just as bad. It took the rest of the clip for Jim Stalin to realize that this had been a weapon designed to be given to the bad guys, a weapon that was pretty well incapable of hitting any target that was it was intended to hit unless said bullet was in the best interest of keeping the story short.

  "I guess he needed more words," James shrugged, "Now you’ve got an empty gun. You lose."

  "No," Jim said, "You do…"

  Jim Stalin knew his comic books better than anyone. He figured that he had nothing to lose by throwing it at the bad guy. Since the bad guy needed to die in order for this long and tedious chapter to end he wound up and threw it solidly at James Mickenbacher’s head.

  "You can’t be serious," James said as the gun flew, "I should dodge."

  "You should," Jim agreed, "But you are as bored of this as I am."

  "True," Mickenbacher agreed, "Come now, gun, hit true…"

  The gun hit true on the bridge of James Mickenbacher’s nose and by some ironic set of coincidences managed to break it and make him chomp on the backup capsule of cyanide he had kept in an upper tooth for many years. He went into convulsions from the poison and collapsed right next to the bloody remains of Alexandra, dying only about two thousand words after she did.

  "Serves you right," Jim said, "Now to get that artifact back from the others…"