Devil's Tower

Joan stood wearily and looked down on Rubert. Cold hatred filled her heart and coursed through her veins as she stared down at the killer of millions.

“You’re in a bad spot, aren’t you Grunt,” Joan hissed through her teeth.

“Please, show me mercy. I can change, really, I can! Just give me a chance!” Rubert screamed, the top part of his body hanging off the edge of Devil’s Tower.

“Grunt, you and I both know it’s too late for that,” Joan snarled. She slammed her foot into his chest, and kicked hard. She smiled maniacally as Rubert dropped like a rock 867 feet to the Belle Fourche River below, screaming like a banshee the whole way.
Joan turned to the others as Rubert’s screams faded into the crisp Wyoming air. “It’s over. Spread the word.”

~*~*~

Rubert Grunt sat at his throne, admiring his wealth. His many wives hurried about as they cleaned and cooked for him. A young girl approached Rubert, her head down.

“Wife number 74 delivered. Male.”

Rubert clapped his hands together happily. “Excellent! Congratulate her for me. Usual procedure. Two months till our appointment, four months till the young one is placed into the military training ward.”

The girl nodded, turning to leave.

“You weren’t dismissed,” Rubert said, stopping the girl in her tracks. “What about Wife 13? We have had four appointments and I still don’t know if she is yet to become pregnant.”

“I have heard nothing,” the girl replied.

“You may leave. Tell son 284 to prepare the retched lamb for the sacrifice. The Goat of Smrti is displeased with us.”

The girl nodded and ran off, just as a young man came in, dressed in military garb. He bowed to Rubert.

“What is it Son…?” Rubert asked, questioning.

“16, sir. We have report of a resurgence of the Under Ground in the New York area. Proceed as usual?”

“How many of us are stationed there?”

“17, sir.”

“Yes, the usual. Three days notice, than drop the bomb.”

The soldier nodded, bowing again before leaving the room.

“Being the all powerful leader of the world is difficult business, keeping track of the wives, daughters, and sons. Killing off all Religion, homosexuals, and sheep.” He bit at the word. “I HATE sheep! Filthy animals. Aren’t good for anything but gloves and chops. Goat impostors are what they are!” Rubert snorted, having thrown himself into a rage. He paced about, releasing angry energy. “I know! I’ll go give a little visit to good ol’ Wife 13.” He chuckled light heartedly, walking out of the room.

~*~*~

Joan stepped out of the shadows of the alley, looking first left, then right. She scurried across, diving into the dumpster seconds before the sound of the soldier’s marching feet entered the alley. She sat completely still; hardly breathing for fear that they would hear her. The sound faded away, but Joan waited a full minute before she relaxed. She turned her head, only to stare into the eyes of The Goat. She stifled a scream. Realizing it was just a discarded poster, she relaxed, her heart still racing.
She poked her head out slightly to make sure no more soldiers were coming, before jumping out of the dumpster.

“Joan! Over here!” a hushed voice sounded to her left. She turned around and looked to her right, seeing the slight movement in the pitch-blackness.

“Did you get a hold of the Blackbird?” she asked as she approached Keith.

“Of courthe I did, thilly goothe! Would I be here right now if I hadn’t?” Keith replied, in his normal heavily lisped voice.

“Keep it down! If they find us both it won’t be long before we’re taken to the Tower to be sacrificed to a damn GOAT!”

“All right, all right. Thorry.” Keith said in a hushed whisper.

Joan approached the end of the alley. “Alright, the patrols normally come every ten minutes, and by my calculations, the last one came by about eight minutes ago, so I say we…” She turned to face Keith, who was already running towards the Tower, his black coat disappearing into the night. “Wait! Keith!” She hissed through her teeth. She heard the faint marching as the soldier’s approached them. She hurried off into the night after Keith.

~*~*~

Louise Carson paced anxiously, looking around every now and then. She looked down at her slightly enlarged stomach. Her unborn child was the only reason that she was helping the Under Ground. She heard the goose, honking in the night. “Caw, Caw!” Louise breathed, almost too quiet to be heard. She went to the window on the other side of the hall looking up towards the sky as if looking for a bird, or at the stars. She heard the scrapping of feet as Joan and Keith climbed into the hall, diving into the closet.

She turned to stare Rubert in the face. She inhaled, as if startled, but was really trying to make herself seem skinny, like she was when she wasn’t pregnant. She brushed her skirt, fluffing it, not making eye contact for fear of him catching on.

“Have you found out? It’s been three months,” Rubert stated bluntly.

“No,” Louise spoke softly, keeping her head down.

“LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!” he snarled, gripping Louise’s chin roughly. He thrust her head up forcefully. Fear glazed Louise’s eyes.

“You are,” Rubert said passively, releasing his grip. Louise began to weep. Rubert smacked her, sending her flying across the room. She slammed into a wall. He removed one of his sheepskin gloves, hitting her with it repeatedly in the face. She dared not make a sound for fear of what that might bring down upon her.

“You know commandment 837,” Rubert spoke calmly and with purpose as he drew out his sacrificial knife. Louise winced, knowing all 3,752 commandments by heart. “You lie, you die.”

~*~*~

“Now!” Joan whispered in Keith’s ear.

“But I already came out of the clothet!” he whispered, not wanting to face the man who had not only killed his life partner, but also had a $20,000 reward on his head.

“Just go! If we don’t get to her now it may be-” A scream sounded outside the door. Joan touched her hand to her cross necklace. “Lord, protect us,” she whispered before shoving Keith out of the closet, leaping out after him.

~*~*~

Rubert held his knife’s hilt, which was now jammed neatly into the wall. Louise had rolled away just before he lunged, plunging his knife at her throat. He turned, hearing a door open behind him. “You!” He snarled, spying Keith, who was the first to emerge from behind the door. “Why aren’t you dead yet?”

Keith smiled nervously at him. “Thurprithe,” he said weakly as Joan leaped past him.

“It can’t be…” Rubert began, stunned.

“Of course it can,” Joan sneered.

“But, I watched you burn! All of you! Your child and husband, your sister and parents. I stood there as your home blazed of your beloved Christmas morn,” Rubert hissed, hardly audible over the rustle of the wind through the open windows.

“I was out,” Joan barked, an evil grin in her voice as she spoke.

“But your body was-”

“WRONG!” Joan screamed. “My neighbor had come over to see what it was like to celebrate an old fashioned Christmas, not that stupid ‘Feast of Goat Smrti’!

“You will pay,” Rubert sneered.

“No thee won’t,” Keith barked, his hands wrapped around a large shot gun.

“Where the he-” Joan and Rubert began, both confused.

“I found it in the clothet,” Keith replied cheerfully as he removed the safety, pointing the barrel at Rubert’s head. Rubert’s face was transformed from that of a cocky dictator to the definition of the word stunned. Within seconds, he was on his feet, slowly backing away from Louise’s weeping form. He turned to run, only to smack into Joan.

“Your time is up, Grunt,” Joan spit.

“Silly girl. You underestimate me. I always have a trick up my sleeve,” Rubert laughed quietly. Then he vanished. A trap door stood open, leaving a gapping hole in the floor where he had stood seconds before.

“Damn it!” Joan yelled, punching a wall as the sound of Rubert’s feet faded into the tunnel’s darkness. “This close! And he gets away. And, to top it all off, our cover’s blown!”

“Not exactly,” Louise squeaked. Her face was tear stained, but a new determination gleamed in her eye. “That tunnel leads to The Tower.”

“Devil’s Tower?”

“Devil’s Tower.”

~*~*~

Louise looked down the trap door, holding the rope as Keith grappled down into the tunnel to join Joan.

“There will be a fork in about a mile. Take the right, the left goes to a dead end 20 miles away.”

“Got it,” Joan said, flicking the switch on the flashlight, illuminating the tunnel.

“Go about a mile and a half and you’ll get to the door, open that and you’re at the base of Devil’s Tower.”

“Thanks Louise. You won’t regret this,” Joan yelled as she raced down the tunnel, Keith close on her heels.

“Be careful,” Louise whispered. She closed the door to the trap slowly, tears welling in her eyes. “I hope I’ve done the right thing” she whispered, placing a hand on her stomach.

~*~*~

Joan and Keith reached the door at the end of the tunnel. She looked back at him. They had sprinted the whole way, and were both panting.

“Ready?” Joan wheezed, leaning on the door.

“Abtholutely.”

~*~*~

Rubert looked down from his elevator as he travelled up the side of Devil’s Tower. He watched as the Catholic woman and the queer emerged from the hidden tunnel door that he had come out of about 30 minutes ago.

“Fools! They’ll never catch me! I have plenty of supplies up here and this is the only way to the top unless you climb the side, but by then, it will already be too late.” He chuckled silently to himself. “Even if they are able to make it to the top before they die, The Goat of Smrti will protect me,” he mumbled, his eyes gleaming with malice.

~*~*~

“How are we thupothed to get up there now?” Keith whined. “That elevator ith the only way to the top.”

“Not the only way,” Joan smiled. “I heard a myth that back in the 1800’s, a pioneer and his wife came and built a ladder on the side to the top. Let’s see if that’s just a myth after all,” Joan smiled at Keith, and began to run for the base of the Tower.

~*~*~

Louise emerged from the tunnel directly behind Keith and Joan. “Wait! I want to come!”

Joan turned, confused as to why Louise had suddenly appeared. “Where did you come from?”

“I lied to you. The left isn’t a dead end. It’s a tube tunnel. The right is just used for military vehicles,” Louise said, sorrow in her voice. “And as a decoy.”

“How could you?” Keith screamed, his voice over flowing with the betrayal he now felt.

“He’s my husband, the father of my children. You would have some level of loyalty, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, no!” Keith replied.

“Well, why not?”

“Uh, hith evil. He took your thonth to be hith tholiderth and he thold your daughterth to be breeding mathineth! He-”

“Keith, enough,” Joan barked bluntly. “I understand. When my husband was alive, I would have done anything for him. Out of love,” Joan turned to face Keith.

“Love has made us an unlikely partnership, your gay, and I’m Catholic. It normally doesn’t work that way. But we are seeking the same thing, revenge for our loved ones,” Joan looked up at the elevator that was now a good 2/3 of the way up the Tower. “I know what I have to do. Who is with me?”

“I’m with you all the way,” Keith replied, puffing out his chest, a tear rolling down his face. They both turned to Louise.

She sighed, “It must be done.”

~*~*~

Rubert looked down on the Under Grounders and his traitorous wife.
“They’ll never catch me in time. Wait, what’s this?” He wondered aloud as Louise lead the group to the base and pointed up the side of the mountain. The Catholic witch nodded happily, and began to quickly ascend the side of the Tower.

“It can’t… It’s not… It is!” Rubert stuttered as Keith than Louise started up behind her. “The ladder is real.”

~*~*~

Joan, Keith, and Louise raced up the ancient ladder, gaining on Rubert and the elevator quickly. “We’ve got him,” Joan said, a vengeful twinkle in her eye.

~*~*~

Rubert jumped out of the elevator. He had trapped himself up here, with a pair of Under Grounder’s seeking revenge and one of his wives who had betrayed him close on his tail.

“Goat of Smrti, save me.”

~*~*~

Joan was the first to the top, about 5 minutes after Rubert’s elevator had reached the top. She looked around.

“Come out, Grunt! To leave this Tower, you’ve got to get past us!”

“You underestimate me, wench,” the familiar voice snarled. Joan felt a blow at the base of her skull. Then it all went black.

~*~*~

Joan awoke to screams, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, flesh hitting rock.
“Keith,” she moaned, jumping up. She staggered, scanning the landscape for Keith and Louise. She found them almost instantly.

Keith lay slumped over a rock, seemingly unconscious. Rubert lay on the ground, Louise over him, tears pouring down her face. Joan didn’t know what had happened, and she didn’t want to wait for an explanation. She ran towards the fight just as Rubert pulled a gun, aiming for Louise’s midsection. Joan lunged as he fired. The bullet hit her in the thigh, blowing her back, but not before she knocked the gun out of his hand.

Keith ran to her. “Are you ok?” he yelled.

“Fine, but I need to finish this.”

Joan stood wearily and looked down on Rubert. Cold hatred filled her heart and coursed through her veins as she stared down at the killer of millions

“You’re in a bad spot, aren’t you Grunt,” Joan hissed through her teeth.

“Please, show me mercy. I can change, really, I can! Just give me a chance!” Rubert screamed, the top part of his body hanging off the edge of Devil’s Tower.

“Grunt, you and I both know it’s too late for that,” Joan snarled. She slammed her foot into his chest, and kicked hard. She smiled maniacally as Rubert dropped like a rock 867 feet to the Belle Fourche River below, screaming like a banshee the whole way.
Joan turned to the others as Rubert’s screams faded into the crisp Wyoming air. “It’s over. Spread the word.”

~*~*~

Joan entered the town of Silver Rock about an hour later. She had a terrible limp, due to her bullet wound. She glanced back at Keith and Louise, who walked silently behind her. The little polygamist village was a ghost town. Not a sound to be heard.

“Something’s not right here,” she said quietly. She waited, but nobody responded to her. “Keith? Louise?” she asked as she began to turn.

A gun cocked by her ear. “I said that you had underestimated me,” an eerily familiar voice breathed in her ear. The hair on the back of Joan’s neck curled.

“You made that mistake one too many times, and it will cost you your life.” Joan turned slowly, staring down the barrel of a gun, welded by none other than Rubert Grunt. He was sopping wet; his robe tattered.

“You wouldn’t. You’re too much of a coward,” Joan hissed, failing to hide the fear evident in her voice.

“Bet me,” he snarled as he fired the gun.