The Sinister Mr. Corpse (23 page)

He threw another stretchy punch at Hugh,
missing by a few inches. Hugh grabbed his hand in a panic and
tugged, pulling Stanley to his extremely wobbly feet.

"He's fuckin' Plastic Man!" Hugh shouted.

Stanley got him with a stretchy kick to the
groin. Hugh howled and doubled over in pain.

Stanley wanted to say something intimidating,
but his jaw wasn't working right. It kind of felt like it was
hanging free.

Tom shot him again.

Stanley threw a punch his way. Again, this
one didn't hit with much force, but what it lacked in power it made
up for with the fact that Stanley's extended index finger got Tom
right in the eye and sunk deep.

Tom let out a wail that more than matched
Hugh's howl.

Stanley tried to pull his finger free, but it
was stuck. His legs gave way beneath him and he dropped to the
ground, one of them sticking up at a strange angle.

Hugh turned and ran.

Tom fell to his knees, bellowing.

Stanley felt something slimy trickling down
his cheek and realized that Tom wasn't the only one with eyeball
issues. Stanley was staring at Tom with his good eye and at the
ground with the eye that was slipping out of its socket. He passed
out pretty quickly after that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Stanley awoke to find himself staring into
the eyes of heaven.

Well, Veronica, anyway. Close enough.

He was back in his old bed in the bunker,
underneath the fluffy pink blanket. Veronica and Martin were each
seated on opposite sides of the bed. Brant stood against the far
wall, speaking to Dr. Arnzin.

"Stanley, can you hear me?" asked
Veronica.

"Yeah." Stanley wiggled his feet. They seemed
to be more or less normal. He touched his forehead and found only a
small dent there, like a dimple on a golf ball.

His left arm was still gone.

"Donald, is he...?" Stanley trailed off,
already knowing the answer.

Veronica nodded sadly. "The funeral was
yesterday."

"Shit."

"It's the way he would have wanted to go, I
think: Top news story."

Stanley closed his eyes. "It's all my
fault."

"It's not your fault. He was stupid. At least
that's what the kidnappers said."

"Did they catch them?"

"Yeah."

"Can we cut off their arms?"

"No, probably not."

Stanley opened his eyes. "I'm so sorry about
all this. I just went nutzo, I guess."

"Why?" Veronica asked. "I don't understand
what made you do that."

Stanley looked over at Brant, who was eyeing
him intently. He returned his attention to Veronica. "I don't know,
either. Probably stress."

"You need to get some more rest," said
Veronica. "They've fixed you up pretty well, but you're still not
one hundred percent."

"We did get the bullets out of you, though,"
said Dr. Arnzin, approaching the bed. "You're a much better patient
when you're unconscious."

"The one in my brain, too?"

"Yes."

"Good." Stanley sighed. "I don't suppose
there's anything you can do about my arm, huh?"

Dr. Arnzin frowned. "No. I'm sorry. I could
sew it back on, of course, but it would just flop around."

"You can't do a ritual or something?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. I guess I deserve this."

"We'll fit you for an artificial arm. They're
actually better than the real thing." Dr. Arnzin patted Stanley's
remaining arm. "I envy you this opportunity."

"Whatever." Stanley looked over at Martin.
"I'm sorry. You were right. You forgive me, don't you?"

"For being a complete reckless idiot and
getting an innocent man killed?"

"Uh, yeah. That."

Martin shook his head. "Not yet. Ask me
later."

"All right, everyone, Stanley needs his
rest," said Brant. "Please excuse us so I can have a few words with
him."

"No," said Stanley.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No. I'm not going to be alone with you."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

They stared at each other for a moment. Then
Brant shrugged. "As you wish. Anyway, we're glad to see that you're
more or less back to normal. It took a lot of special injections. I
hope you appreciate it. Maybe next time you'll behave yourself,
hmm?"

Stanley had every intention of behaving
himself, but didn't want to give Brant the satisfaction of knowing
this, so he didn't respond.

Brant left the room with Dr. Arnzin.

"What kind of special injections?" asked
Stanley.

"I'm not sure," Veronica admitted. "Not my
department. Oh, by the way, somehow the bunker's location got
leaked, and you have a lot of fans who are worried about you.
There's quite a crowd out there."

"I still have fans? This wasn't a PR
disaster?"

"Stanley, this was a PR disaster beyond
anything you can imagine. People think you've gone mentally ill.
But don't worry about it for now. For now, get some rest."

"You know, while I was locked up in that room
I thought of the rest of the states and their capitals."

"Really?"

"No. But I did think of you flashing me."

"I'm glad you're back, Stanley," said
Veronica. "Sleep tight."

She left the room.

Martin sighed.

"You're really pissed, aren't you?" asked
Stanley.

"Yes. But I'm here."

"Y'know, I'm madly in love with Veronica, but
you can woo her yourself if you want. How about that?"

"That implies that I was worried about
competition from a one-armed zombie."

"A
rich
one-armed zombie."

"Go to sleep, Stanley. I'll be here to make
sure that Brant doesn't kill you. I'm sure he wants to."

"You're a good friend, Martin."

"I know. Shut up."

* * *

Stanley sat in Dr. Arnzin's office.
Physically he felt fine. Mentally, he was still not up to par, and
he'd woken up screaming in the middle of the night.

"Everything looks good," said Dr. Arnzin,
shining his penlight into Stanley's right eye. "You know, not many
people can take a bullet to the forehead and be back to normal the
next week."

"Yeah, yeah, it's a gift. So what's up with
my injections?"

"They keep you alive."

"Duh. What's in them?"

"A series of chemicals. Long names that I
can't even pronounce. I don't synthesize them, I just put them in
you."

"Virgin blood?"

He saw Dr. Arnzin flinch, just a bit.

"That might be part of it."

"So you know?"

"Yes. And I know that you know. But I wasn't
supposed to know that you...ah, if we continue this conversation
we'll get into that old joke about me knowing what you know but
you're not supposed to know that I know that you know, so let's say
that we both know and drop it."

"Where do you get the blood?"

"I don't."

"Where does Brant get the blood?"

"I don't know." Dr. Arnzin fidgeted
nervously. "Listen, Stanley, you don't think less of me, right? I'm
still a real doctor. I did yank bullets out of you."

"You have my utmost respect," Stanley assured
him. "But I have to know what's going on."

"He's not murdering virgins, if that's what
you mean."

"Then what's he doing?"

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know he's not murdering
virgins?"

"Because that would be wrong."

"Doc, you've got to help me. This is
important."

"No, what's important is for you to relax and
not concern yourself with things like that right now. You've had a
traumatic experience. Mr. Corpse needs to get all better."

Stanley decided to drop it for now, but he
wasn't convinced. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks for digging the
bullet out of my brain."

"My pleasure."

* * *

"Veronica, I need you to do me a huge favor,"
said Stanley. She sat at her desk, eating lunch while typing on her
laptop. Brant had gone out, fighting his way through the crowd that
Stanley had yet to face.

"I'm pretty sure you owe me a lot more favors
than I owe you," said Veronica.

"I know, and I'll make them all up to you.
But I have to know where my injections are coming from."

"Why?"

"Because I think it's something bad."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you that."

"I think you should."

"Okay, look, I just need to get inside the
lab."

"Stanley, do you know why unauthorized
personnel aren't allowed inside the lab?"

"Because it contains a dark secret."

"No, because it contains hazardous chemicals.
Decontamination suit-type stuff. I'm not about to let you inside
there so you can blow us all up."

"I'm not going to blow anybody up," Stanley
insisted. "You've got to trust me."

"And what part of your behavior over the past
couple of weeks leads you to believe that I consider you
trustworthy?"

Stanley sighed. "I understand. I just think
something really bad is going on, and I want to see it for
myself."

"Suppose I did want to help you. I don't have
access to the lab."

"I know. I thought you could get a hold of
Brant's badge."

"How?"

"Ummmm...maybe seduce him?"

"Stanley--"

"I don't mean sleep with him or do it against
the wall or anything. I just mean to pretend to be attracted to
him. Use your womanly charms."

"It won't work."

"Sure it will. If there's anybody in this
world who needs a boner, it's Brant. Just bat your eyes, brush
against him, maybe call him a stud muffin or something. You'll have
the badge in no time."

"You really expect me to put my job at risk
like that?"

"It's important."

"It won't work."

"Yes, it will."

"No, it won't."

"Why not?"

"Because he knows I'm a lesbian."

Stanley started to say something, but
decided that he needed a long moment to reflect upon that last
comment. "You're what?"

"You heard me," said Veronica, obviously
wishing that she hadn't blurted out that particular revelation.

"A
practicing
lesbian?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Quite frankly
it's none of your business."

"So, not only am I a grotesque partially
dismembered zombie, but I'm the wrong gender. That really solidly
fucks up any chance of a relationship between us, doesn't it?"

"Stanley, no offense, but you could look like
Jennifer Garner and I wouldn't date you."

"That stings."

"It was meant to."

"Wow. So, back to the badge thing. Do you
think you could pretend you were cured?"

"
Stanley!
"

"Bad suggestion, bad suggestion, I know. So
do you have a girlfriend?"

"I don't discuss my personal life with
clients."

"Oh, c'mon. I'm more than a client. Is she
hot?"

"Of course she's hot."

"Fingers or tongue?"

"Okay, no, we are
not
getting into my sex
life, not even in jest."

"Why not?" Stanley protested. "Why can't I be
interested in your homosexuality? I think we should share more
intimate details with each other. You go first."

"Yeah, right. I'm going to share my personal
life with a chauvinist pig who gets off on the idea of two women
going at it."

"So you do go at it?"

"Enough!"

"Five more minutes?"

"
Enough!
This is exactly why I don't
share these kinds of things with you."

"There are
more
of those kinds of
things to share?"

She smacked him on the shoulder.

"Ow! There was genuine malice behind
that!"

"No, genuine malice would be to smack you on
the shoulder that no longer had an arm."

"You're right. That would be mean. Okay,
forget the idea about flashing your goodies at Brant. I just need
to see what's in the lab. Anything you could do, whether it's
distracting him or bashing him over the head with a lead pipe would
be hugely appreciated."

Veronica traced her finger across her chin.
"You're really serious, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see what I can do."

"That's all I can ask. Well, and to see
videos. Can I see videos?"

She smacked him again.

* * *

Stanley sat on his bed. Though the first
twenty minutes of his conversation with Martin had focused on
Veronica's sexual orientation, they'd finally moved on to the
subject of the lab.

"I don't get it. Why do you need to know so
bad?"

"I just do," said Stanley.

"Not good enough."

Stanley hesitated. "What if I were to tell
you that I'm not a scientific miracle?"

"I'd say, no kidding."

Stanley leaned forward, eyes wide with
surprise. "So you know?"

"Maybe we're talking about something else. I
was referring to you being a miracle. It was kind of an
insult."

"Science had nothing to do with my return. It
was witchcraft."

"What an odd thing to say."

"I mean it! Brant told me! I was brought back
to life through rituals and virgin blood and shit like that!"

"And you believed him?"

"Yeah, I believed him!"

"That just seems like a concept you might
want to take with a rather large grain of salt."

"I know it sounds far-fetched, but I have to
get in there to find out for sure. Veronica is going to try to get
the badge for me. At least she said she'll see what she can do.
That probably meant no. In fact, I'm sure it meant no. She'd have
to be a complete idiot to go along with this. I shouldn't have
asked. I suck."