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Authors: Robert Rankin

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‘So are
you going to speak the magic words?’ Danbury asked.

‘I am.’

‘Just
one thing.’ Dr Harney raised a freckled hand. ‘Do you think this is really a
wise thing to do?’

‘What
do you mean?’

‘I mean
that perhaps it would simply be better to leave him as he is. If this man has
the power to control the world, isn’t he better left dead? There’s no telling
what he might do when he’s reanimated and finds out what the M.o.S. did to him.
He might take it out on us.

‘Not a
bit of it.’ Sir John shook his slender head. ‘We will be releasing him from
death. We will be his saviours. He will be forever in our debt. Think what we
might learn from him. Think what he might teach us. Think what he might
give
us by way of a reward.’

‘It’s
iffy,’ said Dr Harney, ‘very iffy.’

‘It is
nothing of the sort.’

‘But
what if he
was
to find out about the M.o.S. killing him? He might take a
terrible revenge.’

‘But he’s
not going to find out, is he? Because we are not going to tell him.’ Sir John
tapped
very
lightly upon the steel cylinder. ‘All that I have just said
is
our
secret, he must never find out. And, frankly, unless he’s been
able to overhear our conversation, there’s no way he ever will.’

Sir
John laughed. And he winked as he laughed and, raising high his hands, he spoke
the spell of denecrolization.

 

Inside the steely cylinder
John Doe lay rigid. But even though suffering the agonies of being frozen two
hundred and forty degrees below zero, he had heard
every single word.

And he
wasn’t happy.

 

 

 

BLACK
CAT’S RETURN

 

Don of The Spoon and Pusher

Said to the lads at the bar,

‘Though it’s closing time and the Bill be plenty,

I’ll not close this pub to gentry.

Have one more, my bonny lads,

And we’ll wait Black Cat’s return.’

 

Jim the skipper quaffed his ale

And nodded with his beard.

‘Though I’d best sail when the tide be turning,

I would that my boats be burning

Than leave you here, my bonny lads,

To wait Black Cat’s return.’

 

Mick the butcher sucked his Briar

And blew out rings of smoke.

‘Though I should be at slicing meat,

I’ll not set one foot in the street

And leave you here, my bonny lads,

To wait Black Cat’s return.’

 

Ben the sad librarian

Leaned back in his chair.

‘Though I’ve fines that need collecting,

Filing drawers that need correcting

I’ll stay here, my bonny lads,

To wait Black Cat’s return.

 

Black Cat Larson sat alone

In a pub just up the road.

‘Though I’ve a love for The Spoon and Pusher

With its seats of padded cusher,

I’ll not drink there when it’s so damn crowded

I’ll stay here alone.’

 

Ha ha.

 

 

 

 

 

 

16

 

BARRY

 

IT WAS
1996, THE SUN WAS SHINING AND I WAS MARCHING UP A high street.
Marching and swearing.

‘Barry,
you stupid bastard!’ I swore. ‘That was some radical plan! Thirty years frozen
at two hundred and forty degrees below zero and feeling every minute of it. You
call
that
a plan? You stupid bastard!’

‘Yeah, well
I’m sorry, chief. It wasn’t the way
I
would have written it. It was just
bad luck, the shoe-box getting lost behind the radiator and everything.’

‘I’ve
lost thirty years, you ble—’

‘Look
on the bright side, chief. Thirty years ago when you were fifteen, you looked
forty-five. Thirty years later and guess what, you
still
look
forty-five. That can’t be bad, can it?’

‘Can’t
be bad?
I have missed out on thirty years of life I
could have had with Litany. That’s thirty years of SEX.’

‘Yeah,
but, chief, Litany was a stinker, she was working for the M.o.S. She only
pretended to like you.’

‘You’re
right. And she is going to pay first!’

‘Pay
first?
What about what you did back there at the
Hidden Tower. That wasn’t very nice, was it?’

‘They
deserved what they got.’

‘But
Sir John did speak the magic words and reanimate you, it wasn’t very grateful,
kicking him in the nuts like that.’

‘He was
going to use me, like the others did. I heard him, “Think of what he might
give
us by way of a reward,” he said.’

‘Maybe,
chief, but headbutting poor Dr Harney like that.’

‘He
was for leaving me dead!’

‘He
might have had a point.’

‘What
did you say, Barry?’

‘Nothing,
chief. But what you did to Danbury Collins, that was really gross.’

‘I don’t
want to talk about that.’

‘I’ve
never seen someone’s head rammed up their own bottom before.’

‘I said
I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Sorry,
chief. Where. are we going now?’

‘To
find Litany.’

‘You
won’t find her, chief. This is 1996, she could be anywhere.’ ‘I know exactly
where she’ll be,’ I said, and I did.

 

There
were mammoth crowds at Wembley. Sonic Energy Authority were playing their
thirtieth-anniversary concert. I pushed my way into the crowd.

‘You
don’t have a ticket, chief.’

I headbutted
a short frail-looking young man and availed myself of his wallet. ‘I do now.’

‘This
is not a nice way to behave, chief.’

‘Just
shut up.’

 

The ex-waiter playing bass
hadn’t aged too well, he was going bald and had a serious paunch. The rest of
the band didn’t look so bad. Cardinal Cox, the lead singer, still had it. When
he launched into ‘Johnny B. Goode’ the crowd went wild.

I stood
to the side of the stage eyeing the crowd. And then I saw her, right near the
front, blond hair, bikini top, up on some young fellow’s shoulder. It was a
right squeeze getting to her, but I managed it. I punched the young fellow
right in the nose and caught Litany on the way down.

‘Come
with me,’ I shouted.

‘No I
won’t. Leave me alone.’

‘Come
with me or I’ll wring your neck right here.’

‘Well,
if you put it that way.’

 

In one of the big
corridors I held Litany against a wall.

‘Litany,’
I said, ‘remember me?’

‘I don’t
remember you and my name’s not Litany.’

‘Oh yes
it is.’

‘Oh no
it isn’t.’

‘Is!’

‘Is
not, my name is Stephanie.’

‘What?’

‘Litany
was my mother.’

‘Your
mother.
So that’s how it works, you lot always looking the same at all the
concerts. Where is your mother? I have to talk to her.’

‘She’s
dead.’

‘Dead!’
I stepped back in more than some surprise and not a
little shock. ‘Dead? When did she die?’

‘Thirty
years ago, as it happens.’

‘Thirty
years? But you don’t look—’

‘I’m
just thirty.’

‘Tell
me what happened.’

‘Why,
what’s it to you?’

‘I knew
your mother, she was… Just tell me what happened.’ ‘Her boyfriend was killed.
My father. Nine months after he died she gave birth to me. When she left the
hospital she put me into care, then she went out and bought all of Philip Glass’s
records. The entire collection, she went home and played them one after the
other and was—’

‘Bored
to death, what a terrible way to go.

‘She
was quite rigid when they found her.’

‘Bored
stiff!’

‘And
completely desiccated. No bodily fluids left.’

‘Bored
shitless!’

‘So now
you know, let me go, will you?’

I
released my grip’ but I didn’t let her go. ‘You say her boyfriend died nine
months before you were born?’

‘Died
in a road accident, yes.’

‘Road
accident.’ I looked at Stephanie. Deep into her eyes. And then I knew. This was
my
daughter. Litany had died for love of me. I took the girl in my arms.

‘Get
your frigging hands off me!’ she screamed.

‘No, you
don’t understand. About your father. He didn’t die. He just went away.

‘He
died,’ she said.

‘No he
didn’t. He just went away.

‘He
died!’

‘He
didn’t. Listen, I know who your father is.’

‘Was.’

‘Is.’

‘Was,
he’s dead.’

‘He’s
not
dead. Your father’s name is—’ And I named myself.

‘Crap,’
said Stephanie. ‘My father’s name
was
Panay Cloudrunner.

 

I marched out of Wembley
Stadium and along another high street. Wembley High Street. I pushed through
the Saturday shoppers. ‘That does it, Barry,’ I shouted. ‘That
really
does
it!’

‘Now
don’t do anything hasty, chief.’

‘Oh I
won’t be hasty. I’ve thought about all this. For thirty years I’ve thought
about all this. I am going to change this rotten world from the ground up. I am
going to build a brave new world, without liars and cheats and exploiters. A
real world. A decent world. A world of love and, and, little fluffy animals.’

‘Sounds
pretty gross, chief’

‘Oh you’ll
love it, Barry. You and the Big Figure.’

‘God,
chief?’

‘Chief
God! He’s going to love it too. And although having spent thirty years at -240,
the idea of +240 up your arse in the cooking pot does have a certain appeal, I’m
actually going to let you share the glory.’

‘That’s
very nice of you, chief’

‘Yes,
isn’t it? God will probably make you chief breeding sprout. Do sprouts have
sex, by the way?’

‘SPROUTS
DO IT IN THEIR BEDS. I read that once on the back of a tractor. I never exactly
knew what it meant, though.’

‘Well
never mind. I’ve had a dream. A thirty-year dream, squeezed in amongst the
nightmare. And I will make it come true, because, after all, I
am
the
Chosen One. Didn’t I rise from the dead?’

‘Well,
you did, chief, but it took you thirty years. It only took the other bloke
three days. And you know who I’m talking about.’

‘He had
help.’

‘Chief,
I really don’t think it’s right.’

‘But
you suggested it, Barry. You said that if you’d been able to pull it off, you
would have earned big kudos with God and got to stay off his dinner plate.’

‘Yeah,
chief, but I’m just worried about—’

‘What?’
I tore the head from a doll clutched in the arms of a passing child and bit its
eye out.

‘Your
attitude
problem,
chief.’

‘I don’t
have an attitude problem! It’s this lot!’ I gestured at the passing folk, who
were regarding me with cold-fish eyes, as folk will when confronted by someone
ranting to himself. ‘It’s this lot that have the attitude problem. People. All
crooks and cheats and swindlers, the lot of them.’

‘Now
hang about, young man,’ said a lady with a straw hat.

‘Hear
that, chief,
young man,
you still carry your age well.’

‘Shut
up, Barry!’

‘Don’t
tell me to shut up, young man. And my name’s not Barry. And
I’m
not a
crook and a cheat.’

‘Yeah,
well, I didn’t mean
you
specifically.’

‘All
right, so I may be a swindler, but swindling’s different. That’s not a real
crime. Not, say, like rape.’

‘There’s
no such crime as rape,’ said an old bloke who had been shuffling by. ‘Confucius
he say, rape impossible, woman with skirt up run faster than man with trousers
down.

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