Chapter Thirty-Four

The Melon Head holding the leash (this one was wearing an old-time zoot suit with more holes than a wedge of Swiss cheese) dropped it to the ground. That set the animalistic Melon Head in motion. It galloped toward Mick with a wild, unsteady gate, ropes of saliva spewing from its awful mouth. Mick jumped off the captured Melon Head’s back a split-second before the feral one was on top of him.

Instead of attacking Mick, it sniffed at the unconscious Melon Head, nudging it with its nose. When it didn’t react, the feral Melon Head opened its mouth and tore into the back of its neck, ripping a wad of flesh free. It gobbled it down like a seagull ingesting fish guts and went back for more.

“What the fuck?”

Mick grabbed his rifle, ready to shoot the feral Melon Head in the back.

So much for having a hostage.

The only thing to do now was to hit them with everything they had.

He whipped around to Chuck. “Light ’em up!”

Chuck dropped the box onto the ground and worked at the lighter.

Mick shot the feral Melon Head in the chest just as it was leaping for him. It rolled on the ground in agony. The Melon Heads let out a collective whoop of tribal outrage.

The first mortar zigzagged into the heart of the gathering. They deftly avoided it, the firework smacking into the dirt and going off, showering the Melon Heads’ backs with painful sparks.

Mick aimed for one of the guards, the one with a head that looked as if it had once been staved in by a pipe, and got it right in its open mouth. Teeth, bits of tongue and cheeks flew in every direction. He quickly pulled the trigger and caught another in the throat. It dropped to its knees, clasping the spurting hole.

The Melon Head leader stood tall while the others jittered about in a panic. Even the other guards seemed confused and frightened. Chuck lobbed an M80 that exploded right at the feet of the leader. He jumped back, wincing and clasping his ears when it went off. Mick aimed at a Melon Head wearing an off-white dress sporting a mosaic of black stains. He pulled the trigger and nothing happened. He was out of ammo. The female Melon Head ran in an arc, looking to catch him from the side. He turned to Dredd. “Shoot it!”

Dredd looked as if he’d awoken from a dream into a nightmare. He shook his head to clear his brain and pulled the trigger. The shot went wide, pinging off a tree. The Melon Head raked her nails across Mick’s face just before she tackled him. He hit the ground hard and saw Chuck holding on to a lit mortar, flames singeing his arm. Just as it was starting to screech, he let the mortar go. Mick didn’t see where it went because he was too busy trying to keep the Melon Head from eating his wounded face. He punched her in the nose, feeling the cartilage crack beneath his knuckles. The Melon Head smiled, sniffing back blood before it dropped from her nostrils onto his face. She went for his throat this time, but his forearm blocked her path to an easy meal.

“A little help,” he said, struggling. A pair of M80 detonations told him Chuck was still busy hurtling fireworks at the mob.

The Melon Head’s head suddenly snapped back. Dredd had his fingers wrapped in her hair. He tossed her aside, delivering a savage kick to her midsection.

Mick clambered to his feet. “Fucking shoot her!”

He then turned to see that the other Melon Heads were fast approaching. Several were down, others having either run off or back into the cave. He ran to Chuck. “Gimme your pistol!”

It was in Chuck’s sling. Mick looked for the leader, who was smart enough to hunch down now at the sight of the gun, and fired again and again. Melon Heads clapped their hands on entry wounds, blood spraying in every direction. But try as he might, Mick couldn’t get a clear shot at the leader. When the bullets ran out, he grabbed the last two quarter sticks in the box. After jamming one in his back pocket, he bit half the fuse off the other, lit it and ran at them. That seemed to stun them into paralysis for a precious moment. He could hear the crack of Dredd’s rifle at his back. A mortar caught a Melon Head in the stomach, driving it backward, firing off in its open guts.

There was just one fugly guard between Mick and the leader. He leapfrogged over it with a level of agility he’d never had before. The leader opened its mouth to shout something either at Mick or to its minions. Maybe it was a cry for help. No matter. Mick stuffed the firework into its maw hard enough to feel its jaw crack. As he jumped away, it went off, turning the leader’s head into a red mist.

Mick hit the ground and let out a war cry. The leader’s big body stood for a moment, wavering on its feet, arms twitching. It dropped to its knees and fell forward, the impact forcing a copious splattering of blood from the hole where its head used to be. Mick swore he would never eat ketchup again.

Silence settled over the battlefield.

Mick stood over the corpse, turning to the Melon Heads gathered around him. None of them dared to make a move.

I did it! I fucking did it!

What would happen next was a mystery, but he knew he had to take advantage of the situation and assert his dominance.

He looked over at Chuck, who had paled considerably.

Dredd caught his eye and grimaced. He pulled the trigger and it simply clicked. “I don’t suppose you’d let me reload.”

Mick had no idea what he was talking about, and then it hit him. Dredd had just tried to kill him.

“What the fuck, bro?”

Dredd chuckled. “I bet you think you’re King Shit right now. Well, you might want to save your celebrating for the afterlife.”

Melon Heads sprang from the bushes and grabbed Chuck. He fought them briefly, but there were just too many. In seconds, his face was pushed in the dirt, eight arms and legs pressing down on him.

Dredd strolled up to Mick. “That’s not their leader. In fact, he was nothing but a big, dumb worker bee. Good job taking out the help.”

Mick was about to remind Dredd he’d been attacked and had shot at them, when he realized the attack hadn’t hurt him much and he couldn’t remember any of Dredd’s shots hitting their mark. “You set us up.”

“More like found a way to make amends and save my ass.” He took Mick by the shoulders and spun him around. A salt-and-pepper-haired Melon Head woman stood at the entrance. She wore a suit made of bones, her long hair draping over the yellowed rib bones encasing her own torso. She looked strong yet soft, a leader and the embodiment of a woman. Her face was severely disfigured, everything just out of place so it appeared as if her features were melting off the bone. Dredd put his lips to Mick’s ear, his hot breath whooshing into the center of his brain. “That’s their leader. And you, my good buddy, are fucked.”

* * *

They were grabbed by the Melon Heads and ushered before the leader. Mick’s legs were kicked out from under him and he was made to kneel before her. Chuck looked woozy beside him, having taken a potshot to the head.

Mick tried to look the leader in the eyes, but hers were too far apart, too uneven to lock on to. Her eyes were cobalt blue and clear as day. Her suit of bones rattled as she approached him.

“What did you do to our friends?”

She looked down at him with a cold indifference.

“I told you I’d bring them to you,” Dredd said. Mick wanted to kill him. “I’m true to my word.”

He looked like a kid expecting a reward for washing the dishes. Dredd seemed to avoid even glancing at Mick and Chuck, now that his deed was done. “They broke the rules and should be punished. I’ve accepted my punishment. I’ll rebuild my cabin and be your watcher. You’ll see.”

The leader regarded him for a moment, and turned back to Mick.

“You’re a real piece of shit, Dredd,” Mick spat.

“At least I’ll be alive. Say hi to your mom and stepdad.”

Mick tried to break free, but he was held down fast. He watched Dredd start to walk away. Several Melon Heads stepped aside so he could go through. The sight made Mick sick to his soul.

“I hope you die!” Mick shouted after him. Dredd didn’t turn around, but he did give him the finger as he made his escape.

“How could he do this?” Chuck said.

“He can and he did and I hope there is a hell, even though I’ll be in it, too. Maybe I can kick his ass when I see him again.”

The leader had been holding a long bone in her hand the whole time. She smacked it once against her bone breastplate. A pair of Melon Head males tore off after Dredd. When they grabbed him, Dredd stuttered, “W-w-wait! I did what I was sup-supposed to do! Please. P-p-please!”

Mick couldn’t help from shouting out, “Kill him!”

They punched Dredd in the solar plexus, taking out any fight he had in him. Then they dragged him back and threw him on the ground. Each of his limbs was grabbed by a Melon Head. Dredd, once he got his breath back, wailed and pleaded. A dozen or more Melon Heads children pounced on him while the adults held on. The kids tore at his clothes, popping buttons and ripping fabric, until his chest and stomach were bare.

That’s when they started digging.

His flesh gave way like Play-Doh under their long-nailed fingers. Dredd’s cries hit an ear-quaking crescendo as they reached inside his torso, pulling for prime, squishy hunks of meat and organs. In no time, they’d hollowed him out. His mouth was left wide open, his eyes rolled back in his head.

Chuck started to cry. “They’re going to do the same thing to us. Jesus fucking Christ. I don’t want to die like that.”

Mick couldn’t think of anyone who would.

The leader had watched the evisceration with a smile on her crooked lips. Now that it was over, she trained her gaze on Mick and Chuck.

“I’m so sorry,” Mick said.

“I know,” Chuck said.

The leader smacked the bone again. Mick lashed out but was held firm. “No! No! No!”

Chuck was lifted to his feet, as was Mick.

They weren’t being thrown to the children.

They were being led to the cave. Seconds later, they were carried into utter darkness, the stench of blood all around them as the children followed.