Kill Baxter (EBK) by Charlie Human

Author:Charlie Human
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

WEAPON OF CHOICE

The ziggurat is directly in our path, an angular pyramid made of a strange fungal material; spongy turquoise, red and yellow.

I stand with the funk band and look up at the stairs that zigzag to the top.

‘Is this it?’

‘Nope,’ Tyrone says. ‘This is the Ziggurat of the False Ego. Read the sign.’

Sure enough, there at the base is a rotten old sign that says FALSE EGO. WATCH YOUR STEP.

I shade my eyes and look towards the top of the ziggurat. ‘Don’t suppose there’s an elevator?’

‘Typical Conscious Self,’ Richard says, as he puts a booted foot on to the first step. ‘Always looking for short cuts.’

I grab Chester and follow the glinting procession of pastels and rhinestones up the stairs. The little bow-tied dog licks my face and then snuggles down into my arms. I know I’m supposed to find my True Self. In fact, the Witch made it plain that it’s more important than ever now that I’m going out into the field with Ronin. It doesn’t make walking up a ziggurat with a funk band seem like any less of a crazy waste of time.

‘Beware the Boomslang,’ I read from a sign on the stairs halfway up. ‘There are snakes here?’

‘A snake, honey,’ Junebug says with a nervous grin. ‘Just the one.’

Dream sweat may be sparkly and multicoloured, but it sticks to you just like real sweat, and I use my forearm to wipe it off my face and then on to my jeans.

We get to the top of the ziggurat and I put Chester down. He barks happily and runs back and forth on the flat platform.

‘So,’ I say. ‘Where’s this False Ego of mine?’

Tyrone taps my shoulder and points to the other side of the platform. A huge jewelled snake slithers across to us. It stops and rises up, swaying back and forth, eyes swirling and spitting like pools of hydrochloric acid.

‘Boom,’ it says. A bass like a tsunami of titanic Tibetan gongs rattles my bones. My eyeballs vibrate in their sockets.

‘That’s the False Ego?’

‘Have you ever heard that biblical stuff about the serpent rising up … yada yada … number of the beast, et cetera and so forth?’ Tyrone says.

‘Yeah.’

He taps me on my forehead. ‘Well, those holy mofos were talking about what goes on inside people’s heads.’

‘Is it dangerous?’

‘Dangerous?’ Tyrone rubs his soul patch. ‘Well, only in the way that YOUR OWN PERSONAL SATAN is dangerous.’

‘Right.’ I eye the jewelled serpent nervously. ‘So what do we do?’

‘We need funk,’ Tyrone says. ‘Stat.’

‘He’s right, honey,’ agrees Junebug. ‘A unified psyche will drive it away.’

‘OK,’ I say. ‘Knock yourselves out. I’ll stand back and watch.’

‘I said “a unified psyche”, honey.’ Junebug primps her beehive hair. ‘That means the Conscious Self.’

‘You want me to play in a funk band?’

‘No, no,’ Junebug says. ‘That’d be ridiculous. You’re the Conscious Self. You have to be the lead singer.’

‘You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.’

They’re not. Musical instruments appear out of thin air and they begin strapping them on.

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