Bumps In The Night

[Sonnenburg]

I've been doing some final tweaking of my book, Bumps In The Night, and I figured I'd share a sample chapter for fun. The premise of the book is that pretty much every horror movie and story is real, and so the question asked is: how many times will a giant cockroach destroy New York before somebody does something about it? The answer is the Division of Paranormal Security who deal with everyone from Goblins breaking and entering to stopping giant mutated lizards wreaking havok in Arizona. The characters are Neil Carter, Justin Brody, Leonard Bains, John Greensnake, and Chris Booth (she's deaf, but has displayed some unusual abilities so far in the story, including knowing what people say when she's not looking at them).

The Museum of Natural History is one of several parts of the Smithsonian Institute, easily the most impressive collection of artifacts in America. It not only houses some of the greatest treasures of history--from uniforms of colonial soldiers during the Revolution to the infamous Enola Gay--it is really a part of history itself.
All of this was impressed upon Neil as Mr. Hart, one of the curators of the Museum of Natural History, led them on his wondrous tour into the many fascinating exhibits that made the museum famous. This wasn't why he and his people were here, of course; it was the newest addition to the museum that demanded the attention of the Division of Paranormal Security.
"This exhibit is spending some time here before going on a tour of the United States," Mr. Hart said with obvious pride. "'Japan: The Island Kingdom.'"
Neil glanced at it briefly. Various relics from throughout Japanese History were stored in glass cases, from ancient swords and weapons to World War II era rifles. A life-size model of a samurai warrior was clad in decorative armor complete with flared headpiece. Probably no relics from when the country was smashed by those giant lizards, he thought, not historic enough. Neil didn't take much of an interest in history that lay outside his work. All the lessons of history showed him was that people tended to be assholes to each other, and eventually the stronger or craftier asshole would take over someone else's country and kill everyone. History was just matching names with the appropriate asshole.
"But this is what you came to see," Mr. Hart said, beaming with joy as they turned left down into the Origins of Western Culture Hall. "We've had sarcophagi for many years, but this is the first time we've actually been able to bring in a mummy, much less three of them."
The six of them filed around the glass cases that temporarily housed the bodies of the mummies. Dead four thousand years; a marvelous piece of history and monument to the skills of Egyptian funeral preparations. Some were so well preserved you'd swear they could still get up. Unfortunately, some of them could.
"Check it out, Chris," Neil said, and she stepped around to the front of the case and pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes always amazed him. They were the deepest, richest blue, the color of a cloudless sky. It was almost like when you lie on your back and look up into the sky, when there's no sense of depth and you feel as if you can fall into it, and secretly you want to. Anyone who ever heard the phrase "lost in your eyes" could understand where it had come from by staring into those eyes. Not that there were any romantic feelings between him and her, but there was something about them that seemed to reach inside and pull all the right levers.
She looked back up at Neil. "There's not enough natural light."
Neil nodded to Leonard, who opened his bag and began pulling out a large lamp. Mr. Hart started to get a little concerned, but Neil assured him it was safe. “Just a little something to make our job easier,” he said as Chris stepped up and started examining the first of the mummies.
“Anything we should do?” John asked.
“Just stay out of the light,” Neil said. “Other than that, just wait.”
“That’s the fun part,” Brody said. “Sometimes we’ve got days to kill on this job.”
“Really,” John said. “I thought it was pretty straightforward.”
“Well, the past couple have been,” Leonard said. “But we haven’t really had to do any serious field work. That can take time.”
“Be careful with this one,” Chris said to Mr. Hart, “He’s barely holding together.”
Mr. Hart looked at her curiously. “That’s right,” he said. “How did you know?”
“Pretty obvious when you know what to look for,” she said as she moved on to the next one.
“We wasted almost a week one time a few years back,” Brody said to John. “Had to go up into the woods, back before Neil was in charge.”
“The good old days,” Neil deadpanned.
“We were working for Walter Jameson,” Brody said, ignoring him. “Just the three of us in hundreds of acres of nothing.”
“Move the light closer,” Chris said. “I’m having trouble with this one.”
“Anyway,” Brody went on as Leonard grabbed the lightstand, “Neil and I are working with Walter, real hairy sucker. So, we’re up in Maryland looking for these three missing film students, and we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Nothing here,” Chris said, stepping away from the case and moving on to the next one.
“So we’re in the middle of the woods, all by ourselves for days and we’re starting to get a little ripe. Now Walter, he was ex-Secret Service and didn’t like it one bit, so finally he goes down to the river and starts washing up.” Brody was already starting to laugh. “I mean, the water had to be like thirty-five degrees! Anyway, he goes down and kinda does a sponge bath to get rid of the stink.”
“It was quite a time,” Neil said absentmindedly, watching Chris as she continued looking at the mummy.
“So Walter hauls himself back to camp,” Brody continued. “He’s this dripping mess, but really proud of his willingness to brave the freezing cold for the sake of hygiene. And we’re walking around, getting our gear together to head out for the new day, when we notice this weird stink. It took us about a half hour before we realized what’d happened.” He could barely keep his laughter contained. “Turns out there was a house just over the hill we hadn’t known about, and he’d been washing in the runoff from their outhouse.”
“Ick,” John said with a laugh. “Brings a whole new meaning to golden showers.”
“Something the matter?” Neil asked Chris out of habit, then stepped over and tapped her on the shoulder.
“I’m not sure,” she said after he repeated the question. “He’s very intact, but still inconclusive.”
“What’s inconclusive?” Mr. Hart asked. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“But that’s not the end of the story,” Brody went on, ignoring the discussion. “We get an alert that comes over to drop everything and prepare for immediate reinforcements. They were planning to deploy a group armed with high-powered tranquilizers and cattleprods to secure a hostile reported in our area.” Brody couldn’t keep his laughter contained. “The people in the house had come down and saw Sasquatch bathing in their cesspool and called the sheriff’s department.”
John started laughing. “So it was either admit to washing yourself in sewerage or deploy troops all over the area to look for Big Foot.”
“Yeah,” Brody said. “I would’ve loved to have seen the looks on their faces when they saw him down there and thought he was some throwback primate. Must’ve been hysterical.” He looked over at Mr. Hart. “Yeah! That’s exactly it.” His chuckles faded as the man’s face started to become sallow, and he followed his gaze to where the mummy lay within the glass case. “Uh, Neil,” he said cautiously, “Weren’t the mummies’ eyes all closed?”
The glass case shattered into countless shards as the ancient creature reached up, grabbing Chris’ throat in its hand. Neil and Brody grabbed the arm immediately, trying to make it let go, but its grip was astonishing. Its left arm grabbed Neil by the shirt and tossed him backwards through a display case, only to repeat the gesture with Brody, tossing him into the wall.
The Smithsonian’s Origins of Western Culture Hall is famous for many of its early pristine artifacts, including an ancient Greek jug. Its painted surface shows two images of one of the original Olympic games. Untarnished by time, it is literally beyond price. It turned to clay lumps as Leonard smashed the mummy in the face with the relic, distracting it long enough for Chris to slip out of its grip. As she slipped to the floor in a coughing fit it reached up and grabbed Leonard’s neck in both hands, trying to squeeze the life out of him. John pushed Mr. Hart to the floor as Leonard pulled out his gun and fired into the mummy’s stomach. The bullets came out the other side, putting holes into the wall until the gun started to dry fire. John helped Brody up and the two dived on the monster, throwing it off balance and causing the four of them to fall to the floor in a tangled heap.
“Get clear,” Brody said as he jumped up, pulling his Desert Eagle from inside his vest as he planting his foot on the mummy’s neck. Leonard and John dove away as the room echoed with the blast from the huge pistol, tearing large holes into the mummy’s chest. The bullets burrowed right through the floor into the room below, blasting out one of the sprinklers and causing the entire room to start getting sprayed with water. The Native Cultures of the Americas exhibit soon became a soaked mess.
Brody was tossed down the length of the hall as the mummy pulled itself back to its feet, moaning and growling at them. Neil grabbed it from behind and put it in a choke hold, but it was all he could do to hang on as the creature marched around in a spiraling rage. John was back on his feet and punched it across the face, causing dust and teeth to go flying. The mummy growled at him but he ducked under its reach. He popped back up and swung, but the mummy turned and he managed to hit Neil just below his left eye, who fell cursing off the mummy’s back. Now free of the weight, the mummy slapped John with the back of his hand, sending him through the pile of broken glass.
“Justin,” Leonard shouted, “he’s coming your way.” With rather impressive speed considering it had been dead four thousand years, the mummy began running down the hall away from the group. The rest of the team was already pulling themselves back to their feet to pursue, but it had a good head start on them. Brody had pulled himself to a sitting position and grabbed the mummy’s leg as it ran by. The limb tore off in his hands, and he held it out in front of him, staring at it stupidly. Suddenly it kicked him in the face and he dropped it as the mummy came back and snatched it up.
The limb re-attached immediately, and the creature turned and roared at Neil, John, Chris and Leonard as they came rushing up the hall, the group plowing to a halt as it did so. “Got a plan, fearless leader?” Leonard asked as the mummy seemed to size them up.
The mummy roared again as it jumped right in front of them, shaking its bandaged arms in a frightening display. It paused as blued steel was jammed in its mouth. “How’s this?” Neil asked, and the Ruger fired, blowing the mummy’s skullcap clean off. It stumbled about with a brief look of confusion on its face, then it grabbed him by the shoulders, picking him up and slamming him into the floor.
“Okay,” Leonard said, pulling out his USP, “anyone else got a plan?”
“We can light it on fire,” John suggested.
“Not in here,” Leonard said, “The sprinklers’ll put it out, assuming it doesn’t burn down the museum.” He stopped as the creature knocked him off his feet as its fist connected with his jaw.
Taking advantage of its distraction, John rushed past the mummy towards the main exhibit. While he went Chris put her Glock to its temple and fired repeatedly, filling the air with dust and rotten bandages. She doubled over as it elbowed her in the stomach and then grabbed her throat again in its right hand. Her blue eyes seemed to glow and there was a blinding flash, and the mummy held up its other hand to protect its sensitive eyes. She brought up her right arm and dislodged the grip on her throat, then brought her hand back and slapped it across the face with the butt of her gun, sending it stumbling backwards. Neil and Brody each grabbed an arm, hoping to restrain it long enough to come up with some way of killing it for good. Despite their best efforts, it swung the limbs forward and smashed them together.
There was a strange sort of yell as John came charging up the hall, holding one of the huge samurai swords over his head. His teammates, knowing John had as much in common with a samurai as a fish does a tapdancer, scrambled out of the way. The mummy seemed so stunned by the bizarre behavior that John easily got in his first swing, slicing the creature from its left shoulder at an angle most of the way through its torso. He tried to tug it out to swing again, but the mummy grabbed him and tossed him aside. It pulled out the sword and threw it away, continuing its now jerky steps towards the entrance to the lower levels, and then freedom.
Neil, Brody, Leonard and Chris came out of the hall after it, each with a tight grip on their gun. “You want a plan,” Neil said as he cocked the Ruger, “Shoot out his legs.” The hall echoed with the deafening discharges as the heavy guns fired again and again, chewing up the bandaged tissue of the mummy’s legs until they split apart. A few shots passed through its body, causing untold damage to the South America: Continent and Culture exhibits, but it seemed to be down for the moment. Neil holstered his Ruger and picked up the samurai sword, slicing the mummy’s head off with one swing. Then he lopped both the arms off, and then, just to play it safe, kicked the parts away from each other for the moment, although they still squirmed about in a grotesque display. He turned back to the group, holding the now broken sword and panting for breath. “Bags,” he said, and Leonard started passing out small trash bags to each member of the group, who began stuffing the body parts into them.
Mr. Hart came over, his face covered with a horror that made anyone who looked at him wince in sympathy. He watched them stuff the squirming mummy remains into the bags, and then around at the destruction of his museum. He wore the expression of a man who had just completed a three-cent tour of hell. “What...” he began, but then trailed off into silence, as he couldn’t accept how this could have happened.
“Real simple,” Neil said as he tried to dislodge the mummies hand from his arm and get it into the bag. “One of your mummies was the victim of an ancient curse, and he re-activated, causing wanton destruction throughout your museum. I’m sure that’ll bring in the tourists,” he remarked as the limb dropped into the bag.
“How am I going to... the exhibits... all the....” Mr. Hart’s voice disappeared back to wherever it had decided to hide during this catastrophe.
“Gee, you act like you’ve never seen a re-animated corpse trash the Smithsonian before,” Brody said as he carefully tossed one of the legs in a bag.
“Do you think they have insurance against this kind of thing?” Leonard asked as he tightened the string on the bag.
“Unfortunately it only covers destruction by dinosaur fossils,” John said, getting into the spirit of things.
Neil stood up and dusted himself off. Mr. Hart turned and grabbed his shirtfront in desperation. “What am I going to do?” he pleaded.
“Just say you need to close the museum a couple of days to make some repairs.”
“But what if they ask why?” he begged.
He shrugged. “Tell the truth,” Neil said, “No one will believe you anyway.”

(c) 2003