Part 5 (1/2)
”What do you mean?” Louie asked. ”We've already seen Captain Crusader!”
”In three different disguises,” Doc reminded the sidekick, ”as a masked marshal, a tribal chieftain, and a mysterious island drummer. And, every time we're about to discover his true ident.i.ty, he spouts one of those sayin's of his. You know-”The Dewey Decimal System is your friend!' or some such-and then he ups and disappears. Does that sound to you like a fella who wants to be found?''
”I never thought of it like that,” Louie admitted.
Delores nodded in admiration of Doc's reasoning. ”That means there's more than one secret out there. Not only are we unaware of the fine points of Doctor Dread's plan to conquer the Cineverse, we don't even know the true direction of Captain Crusader's counterplan.”
”If he even has one,” Doc added gently.
”But, that's almost unthinkable!” Delores objected. ”He's Captain Crusader! He must have a plan!”
”I'm sure he had one, once,'' Doc replied, still not raising his voice. ”But the Change did more than bring unhappy endings to the Cineverse. Think of what it's done to us, and to all those around us. What if the alterations that have occurred in the very fabric of the Cineverse have affected its ultimate hero?”
”You mean,” Louie said in horror, ”what if the Change changed Captain Crusader?”
”It's certainly possible.” Doc agreed. ”It's just a little somethin' I studied when I held the Wild Bill Hickok Philosophy Chair at Western States University. That was, of course, before I became the Tombstone town drunk.” He stared moodily at the bottle before him. ”But I brought it up to make a point. With things the way they are now, we can't take nothin' for granted.”
”You've changed, Doc,” Delores mentioned.
The cowpoke pushed the bottle away. ”All things in moderation.” He looked back up at Delores. ”When I first met Roger, he inspired me. He wasn't content to just let the plot go by. He wanted to change things, for the better! He reminded me of my heroin'
days, before the bottle got the better of me. I swore I'd lay off the sauce, and for a while, the action and adventurin' saw me through. But playing the town drunk in a thousand Western plots has taken its toll. I can be a hero, still, but I gotta be a little drunk, first. And I can get drunk on almost any thin'.”
”So that's why your slur's gone!” Delores exclaimed.
”Yes, it is, little missy,” Doc modestly agreed. ”Simply said, I shall certainly sustain a successful level of sobriety. She sells sea sh.e.l.ls down by the sea sho-”
The doors to the gin joint slammed open. Slamming doors, machine-gun fire, people staggering out of clothing stores in the night-Delores reminded herself that all this was nothing to worry about. Still, any hopes that the gin joint might be in the same sort of neighborhood as Second Avenue Second Hand evaporated when Delores heard the diabolical laughter.
”How-convenient!” Dread's oily voice shouted over the sound of countless minions filing into the bar. ' ”That we should find the very ones we seek, hiding in a bar owned by”-he hesitated triumphantly-”Bertha's uncle!”
”Oh, yeah,” Louie said in a small voice, ”did I tell you that Dread's number-one- henchperson was also my sister?”
”Lucky for us,” Doc chuckled, ”this here suit has large enough pockets for my six- shooters.”
The jungle prince stood abruptly, almost tipping over the table. ”Zabana say we save Cineverse!”
Delores cursed her foolishness as she stood, too, her back to the wall. She had forgotten about Louie's sister. And the fact that this wasn't only Louie's home planet, but was Dread's base of operations as well.
The henchmen continued to file in, row on row of slouch hats and double-breasted pin stripes. Delores had never seen so many minions! What other mistakes had she made?
She had let her concern for Roger and the Cineverse get in the way of her own self- preservation. Now, she might not only have sealed her own fate, but the fates of the three men who had trusted her.
The door slammed behind the last of Dread's lackeys. But there must have been close to a hundred of them, all crammed into this tiny neighborhood bar, all smiling evilly beneath their broad-brimmed hats as they lifted their gats and roscoes to finish off the four heroes standing in the corner. And in the center of them all was Doctor Dread, his green snakesuit costume gleaming malevolently even in the bar's dim light, and Big Bertha, who was wearing something that looked an awful lot like a black vinyl jumpsuit!
”De-lor-es,” Doctor Dread jeered, speaking so slowly that every syllable was like a separate word.”How- pleasant-for us. How-unpleasant-for you.”
But Delores refused to be shaken by the evildoer's taunts. Somehow she'd best this beast with his hundred helpers! And even more than that, she wouldn't be shot by a woman in a costume that-by all rights of heroic priority-should be hers! There must be some way out of this! She had to find one, for the sake of Roger, and the Cineverse!
”But I am not without my-mercy,” Dread allowed. ”Tell me, De-lor-es, do I hear any last-groveling- pleas to spare your-worthless lives?”
For her answer, Delores spat on his polished snakeskin shoes.
”Very well.” The King of Crime looked meaningfully at his room full of minions. ”You know what to do, men.” Dread hesitated tellingly. ”Discard them!”
”Hey, boss!” someone shouted. ”Who let in this dog?”
Dog? Delores thought.
That's when all the guns went off.
^ ^ 5 ^ ^
”ATOMIC DISASTER!”.
”Mrrssrrss!”
Roger was pushed roughly to the ground. He looked up, and saw the great bulk of the Mad Mumbler standing between him and Sneer's knife. The gang leader had somehow moved even faster than his lackey, saving Roger from a blade in his chest!
”Jsss Crssssss!” the Mumbler yelled down at the trembling Sneer. ”Mnnff Mffnn!”
”Yeah, boss?” Sneer stared down at his switchblade, somewhat shaken. ”What was that?”
”Wsskssoiss mffnnifnn!” the Mumbler insisted.
Sneer stared back at his boss. ”You didn't say to cut him?”
The gang leader made a slas.h.i.+ng motion with his hand. ”Mssxxmm vbbllmm!”
”Oh! You said for me to cut it out!”
”Wccsblffmm znrrgssbll!”
”Oh, is that what you meant?” Sneer shrugged. ”Well, I can't help it if you won't speak up!”
”Jrsdlpplll!” The Mumbler pushed Sneer back into the sand with a flick of his hand.
Roger found himself grabbed by the gang leader's free hand, which was the approximate size of an uncanned ham, and hoisted back to his feet.
Sneer picked himself up and brushed himself off, muttering something about people who mumbled idioms under their breaths.
”Srrbbbttt,” the leader mumbled in Roger's direction.
Roger made an expression that he hoped was a friendly smile. ”Don't worry. No harm done.”
”Srrzzssmm!” the Mumbler screamed.
Oh, no, Roger thought. Not this again.