“Uh,” I said.
We realized that in the same way the 1968 Unstoppable Soldiers cowered away from Dr. Grady McKeon because it was his blood that created them, the Unstoppable Soldiers in Ealing today would only be stopped by Robby Brees.
That was what the insane Dr. Grady McKeon meant when he told us, “Pay attention, my friends, for you may be able to affect a similar salvation if the conditions are favorable in your situation.”
It was the blood that did the trick, and Robby Brees was God to Ealing’s newest crop of Unstoppable Soldiers.
The scientists at McKeon Industries, none of whom had ever received a Nobel Prize and its accompanying million dollars and trip to Sweden for a threesome with Robby Brees and Shann Collins, nearly drained Dr. Grady McKeon dry collecting blood from the twitching man. Once they did, their initial method of delivery was less sophisticated than the plastic capsules filled with sperm: One of the scientists went into the lab where the Unstoppable Soldiers had taken over, and he squirted them with Dr. Grady McKeon’s blood from a large plastic hypodermic.
That particular scientist lost his right arm from the elbow down.
“That is a really dumb way to lose an arm,” I pointed out.
“Those guys actually went to college and shit,” Robby said.
“I think a lot of colleges in the sixties offered degrees in taking LSD, Rob,” I said.
“It is fortunate you were not born with two heads,” Robby concluded.
But a remarkable thing happened once the targeted Unstoppable Soldier had come into contact with the blood of his God. The Unstoppable Soldier stopped, and fell to pieces.
The six-foot-tall praying mantis with tooth-spiked arms simply broke apart, segment by segment.
That was the first Unstoppable Soldier. It was the one that hatched out of Felek Szczerba.
At that exact moment, as Robby and I sat watching Reel Five of Eden Orientation Series, the disconnected pieces of Felek Szczerba’s Unstoppable Soldier body were floating in a brine of preservatives, sealed within large glass cases resembling aquariums, inside Johnny McKeon’s private office.
So McKeon Industries was able to clean up the first infestation of Unstoppable Soldiers in Ealing, Iowa, during 1968. They let the eggs begin to hatch, unfortunate as it was. Film images captured the black creatures as they began bursting out from the gooey egg masses. The miniaturized Unstoppables were about as large as third-graders as soon as they hatched, and the first ones immediately began feasting on their brothers and sisters.
They were, after all, Unstoppable Soldiers. Actually, until they’d eaten and molted several times, the hatchlings were more like Unstoppable Cub Scouts.
Unstoppable Cub Scouts only want to do one thing, at least until they enter Unstoppable Puberty, which happens in about four hours.
Within days, the sealed-off McKeon Industries lab facility was completely packed—from attic to cellar—with full-grown, hungry Unstoppable Soldiers, all of which engaged in a round-the-clock unstoppable orgy of sex and cannibalism.
The experiment had to be halted.
More blood was drawn. Dr. Grady McKeon became frail and anemic. But finally, all the Unstoppable Soldiers had been erased.
It was not the end of the film, however.
The worst was yet to come.
Robby Brees and I did not know anything about it.
SATAN AND THE PASTOR
“UM, ROBBY,” I said, “I just thought of something.”
“I don’t like the idea of draining my blood, Porcupine,” Robby said.
“Not that. I was thinking, what if Ingrid needs to shit?” I said.
Neither one of us considered the fact that getting Ingrid up the ladder to the entry hatch was likely going to be far more difficult than getting her down.
Robby said, “You might just have to put her inside the Nightingale.”
I shook my head.
“I could never do that to a genuine Nightingale,” I said.
The movie played on.
And, at that exact moment as Robby and I sat next to each other inside Eden’s theater, Pastor Roland Duff and Stan, the Mexican man who owned and operated Satan’s Pizza, cautiously made their way across Kimber Drive toward the red and blue flashing lights of the Iowa State Patrol car.
It was not a good idea.
Stan, whose real name was Sevastián Hernandez, walked one step in front of Pastor Roland Duff. The two men saw Johnny McKeon driving away from the Ealing Mall.
Grasshopper Jungle was eerily quiet. The shops were all dark. This was normal for the most part because so much of the mall had shut down. But even the Ealing Coin Wash Launderette was lightless; and that was unusual.
Pastor Roland Duff assumed the power on the south side of Kimber Drive must have gone out. The lights were still on at Satan’s Pizza.
Roland Duff glanced nervously at Stan Hernandez illuminated by the silent flickering lights from the patrol car. The alternating washes of blue and red made it seem like the men were standing on the dance floor at a discotheque. Pastor Roland Duff realized he had never actually looked at Stan Hernandez before.
Stan Hernandez was very handsome.
Too bad Stan Hernandez was Catholic, thought Roland Duff.
Roland Duff, who had never had sex with anyone, was very aroused.
Unfortunately for Pastor Roland Duff and Stan Hernandez, so was Travis Pope.
Stan Hernandez and Pastor Roland Duff got right up alongside Denny Drayton’s abandoned patrol vehicle. The driver-side door had been left fully open, and the vehicle’s motor was idling. The two men saw the sideways Diet Coke bottle that leaked its viscous contents of tobacco spit all over the cushioned upholstery of the driver’s seat.
Denny Drayton’s emptied Sig Sauer was on the ground next to the rear tire.
Trooper Drayton’s mostly headless and entirely hairless corpse lay in the parking lot in front of the car.
The Unstoppable Soldier that had been Travis Pope flitted up to the roof of Denny Drayton’s patrol car. He perched like an obscene living gargoyle atop the rack of flashing colorful lights.
Stan Hernandez looked up and said, “Holy shit.”
Those were the last words Pastor Roland Duff, who was mostly a virgin, ever heard in his life.
Holy shit.
Excrementum Sanctum.
Travis Pope killed Stan Hernandez and Pastor Roland Duff. Travis Pope also ate Pastor Roland Duff’s entire aroused body. The headmaster from Curtis Crane Lutheran Academy was very tender and moist. Travis Pope made bug shit all over the Iowa State Patrol car, then he scampered away, sniffing the air, trying to find where Eileen and the other bugs had gone.
And at exactly that moment, Ollie Jungfrau opened the door to his Dodge Caravan minivan. He put his laptop and a plastic Walmart bag, into which he’d stuffed some clean clothes, onto the passenger seat.
Ollie Jungfrau was going to get the hell out of Ealing if it was the last thing he’d ever do.
It was.
As Ollie Jungfrau made his way toward the east-west highway that connected Ealing to Waterloo and Dubuque, he noticed a figure running along the side of the road.
Ollie Jungfrau imagined he was stuck inside a video game.
He imagined he was in charge of driving a Dodge Caravan minivan, and the object of the game was to run down big fucking bugs.
“Suck on the front end of a Dodge fucking Caravan, you big fucking alien bugs,” Ollie Jungfrau said.
Ollie Jungfrau’s penis was hard.
Ollie Jungfrau got erections whenever he killed aliens in video games.
The thing Ollie Jungfrau saw running along the roadside was not a big fucking alien bug, however. The thing Ollie Jungfrau saw was Louis, the cook from The Pancake House, whose real name was Ah Wong Sing.
Louis was five
foot four inches tall.
Louis had fucked Connie Brees three times that day, using condoms that Connie Brees found on the floor of Robby’s bedroom.
Ollie Jungfrau nearly ran his friend over before he realized it was not a big fucking alien bug.
And running next to Louis was another person Ollie Jungfrau recognized: It was the eighth-grade English teacher from Curtis Crane Lutheran Academy. Her name was Mrs. Edith Mitchell.
Mrs. Edith Mitchell sometimes shopped at Tipsy Cricket Liquors. However, Mrs. Edith Mitchell did not purchase condoms there. Mrs. Edith Mitchell smoked Marlboro menthol cigarettes and drank white wine from cardboard boxes.
Ollie Jungfrau pulled his Dodge Caravan over to the side of the road.
“Hey, you two,” Ollie Jungfrau said, “I think Ealing’s being invaded by aliens or something. I’m not joking, you better get in.”
Ah Wong Sing and Mrs. Edith Mitchell were frantic.
They had seen the bugs, too.
Ah Wong Sing slid open the rear side door on Ollie Jungfrau’s Dodge Caravan.
“Thank God,” Ah Wong Sing said.
“Thank God,” Mrs. Edith Mitchell echoed.
They got inside Ollie Jungfrau’s minivan. Ollie accelerated as fast as a Dodge Caravan carrying three Iowans could go. He headed toward the bridge that led out of town, just on the other side of Amelia Jenks Bloomer Park.
It was not a good idea.
SERIAL KILLER USA
I KNEW HOW to kill the Unstoppable Soldiers.
“We could use my paintball gun,” I said.
Paintball is a game teenage boys like to play. We dress up in old clothes and shoot one another with mushy plastic balls filled with paint. The balls are about the size of a nickel. They burst open and leave a splatter mark upon impact, like blood.
“Uh,” Robby said.
“We could take some of your blood and inject it with a hypodermic into paintballs.” I said, “That’s how we can kill the Unstoppable Soldiers. I am certain they have the needles and shit to do it in the clinic.”
“You are insane, Austin,” Robby said.
Robby crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest. He did not want me to take any of his blood.
“Do you want to stay down here forever?” I asked.
“Yes,” Robby said. “I do want to stay down here forever. As long as the Rolling Stones are here, it’s fine with me.”
The film continued:
From mid-1968 until early 1970, there were a series of unsolved beheadings in Ealing, Iowa.
Robby Brees and I solved them that night, as we watched Reel Five of Eden Orientation Series.
Newspapers, and even the few books that had been written about the Monster of Ealing serial killings put the number of victims at seven. There were actually a lot more than that.
A head belonging to one of the victims was floating inside a large glass jar that sat on a shelf in Johnny McKeon’s office in From Attic to Seller Consignment Store at the exact moment Robby Brees and I sat and watched our film play out.
Dr. Grady McKeon got his contract for Unstoppable Soldiers.
What engineer of warfare could possibly pass up a chance to set free a breeding, self-regenerating horde of horny and hungry Unstoppable Soldiers inside enemy territory? The Defense Department of the United States of America wanted Unstoppable Soldiers very much.
McKeon Industries tested their 412E strain on prison inmates. The prison inmates had all volunteered for the program. They had been told it would be an opportunity to leave the country and kill Communists.
Offering the possibility of such an experience to an incarcerated prisoner in the Iowa Men’s Reformatory, which is now called Anamosa State Penitentiary, is kind of like offering a lazy white kid one million dollars, a trip to Sweden, and a threesome with Shann Collins and Robby Brees.
Sign me up.
So the scientists at McKeon Industries exposed the inmate volunteers to their 412E plague mold, strapped them down naked to hospital beds, pumped them full of liquid sedatives, and filmed the volunteers while McKeon Industries teams waited for the hatching to begin.
Monsters were making monsters.
At first, Dr. Grady McKeon’s staff assumed the Unstoppable Soldiers that hatched would be placid and sedated from all the drugs, too.
It was not a good idea.
History shows that, as a group, scientists tend to not be very aggressive when it comes to physical attacks. The scientists who worked for Dr. Grady McKeon were like good-morning breakfasts for the first hatchling Unstoppable Soldiers.
It also became apparent to the McKeon Industries scientists that the Unstoppable Soldiers are always very horny. The Unstoppable Soldiers needed females, but, unfortunately, there were no female volunteers for the Unstoppable Soldiers Project, Phase 2. This made the Unstoppable Soldiers very edgy.
Six-foot-tall praying mantises with jagged rows of serrated teeth on their arms are not very good at masturbating. This made them even angrier.
Dr. Grady McKeon decided to halt the experiment a second time.
Again, the Unstoppable Soldiers proved difficult to stop. Ultimately it was discovered that the only way to prevent hatching-out among the exposed inmate volunteers was by removing their heads.
This is what the scientists at McKeon Industries did.
And they cleaned up their failures as sloppily as they did everything else, which accounts for the discovery of headless corpses in fields around Ealing, Iowa, in 1969.
Robby posed a question: “Austin, is it just me, or do you feel dumber, too, after spending the last couple hours watching those McKeon scientists experiment with shit?”
“No doubt, Rob, we have lost some brain cells,” I answered.
And Robby said, “What are we going to do, Austin?”
Ingrid sighed beneath my feet.
That was usually Ingrid’s question.
The film ended with footage of the McKeon Industries Family Picnic Day: happy scientist families eating corn on the cob and playing softball or running three-legged races. It was all very creepy, made more so by Dr. Grady McKeon’s voiced-over exhortations:
Breed, my friends, breed. Breed and be the New Human Race.
“I wonder if that corn they’re feeding the kids is Unstoppable,” Robby said.
I said, “Uh.”
Fuck corn.
I never wanted to eat corn again.
Just as the film ran its last strip of leader through the projector, Robby and I heard another sound coming through Eden’s speaker system:
Welcome to Eden. Please secure the hatch upon entry.
Welcome to Eden. Please secure the hatch upon entry.
Someone had opened the hatch from outside.
Someone was coming down the entry ladder.
Welcome to Eden. Please secure the hatch upon entry.
LOOKING FOR WIGGLES
THE MOVIE MADE quite an impression on Robby Brees and me.
We were terrified.
Robby and I stared at each other, both of us uncertain as to which course of action to take: Run and hide, prepare to fight, or go out to the mudroom and see who might be calling on us so late at night.
It was past midnight, Friday morning.
The end of the world was one week old and it was getting out of hand.
“What are we going to do, Ingrid?” I said.
I pinched the silver medallion of Saint Kazimierz between my finger and thumb, raised it to my lips, and kissed it.
At exactly that moment, Eric Andrew Szerba, my father, and Connie May Kenney Szerba, my mother, were drinking cups of strong German coffee. They sat at my brother’s bedside in a military hospital, where he was not recovering very well from losing the lower half of his right leg and both of his testicles to a shrap
nel bomb in Afghanistan.
On the other side of Ealing, on Onondaga Street, the Unstoppable Soldier that hatched out of Eileen Pope entered Duane Coventry’s house through the open front door. Eileen Pope began filling the rooms of the small house with jellied clusters of translucent gray eggs. In a few hours, the house would be entirely filled with Eileen Pope’s egg mass, which would turn black and boil with mountainous eruptions of oily unstoppable goo.
The males would have to leave Eileen Pope alone now. Tyler Jacobson and Roger Baird perched alongside each other, up on the roof of the house. Unstoppable Soldiers do not sleep; they rest.
Unstoppable Soldiers cannot close their massive compound eyes.
The Unstoppable Soldier that hatched out of Tyler Jacobson would not have slept even if he could shut his massive, lidless eyes. Tyler Jacobson was hopped up on all the crystal meth that had been coursing through Duane Coventry’s body. The crystal meth made Tyler Jacobson very edgy and extremely horny. Tyler Jacobson scrambled on top of Roger Baird, who was also an Unstoppable Soldier, and attempted to copulate with him.
Roger Baird had been in a resting state.
Roger Baird was not very happy after being disturbed from his rest by another male Unstoppable Soldier that was in the act of copulating with him. Tyler Jacobson was confused. The two six-foot-tall praying mantis monsters fought.
Roger Baird was pinned. Tyler Jacobson bit Roger’s head completely off. Roger Baird’s head rolled down the slope of Duane Coventry’s roof like a noisy pinecone felled by a gust of wind.
Clop clop! Clop clop! Thud! went Roger’s triangular head as it tumbled unevenly down the shingled pitch of the roof, dropped, and landed below the front porch.
Undeterred, Tyler Jacobson continued doing the two things that Unstoppable Soldiers on crystal meth like to do.
Tyler Jacobson was very confused.
Connie Brees was very tired. She worked on the night staff at the FedEx facility outside Waterloo. She sorted and scanned flats and packages. While she worked, Connie Brees’s brain floated along on little blue kayaks.