Major Karnage by Gord Zajac

cooperative.”
Karnage fished another goober rifle out of the backseat. He turned
to Stumpy. “Get behind the wheel. When I give you the signal, pop
the trunk.”
    Stumpy eyed the rifle. “What are you going to do?”
    Karnage switched off the rifle’s safety. “I’m gonna reason with
her.”
    Karnage stood in front of the trunk, goober rifle at the ready.
He signalled to Stumpy. Stumpy popped the trunk. The lid flew
open and the duffel bag launched itself into the air. It crashed into
Karnage, knocking him to the ground. Karnage rolled out from
underneath it and scrambled to his feet. He pinned the gyrating bag
with the butt of his rifle. The bag writhed under the rifle like an
angry snake, trying to wiggle free. Karnage reached forward and
unzipped the bag. Sydney’s tousled head burst out. Her face was red.
Her eyes shot daggers at Karnage. Her mouth was covered with a
strip of duct tape. It flexed in and out as she let loose an angry tirade
of muffled curses that would have made Velasquez proud. Karnage
waited until she had exhausted her expansive vocabulary, then
saluted. “Evening, Captain.”
    Sydney glared at Karnage, her eyes full of hate.
    “I apologize for the bumpy ride,” he said. “I’ll admit this ain’t
exactly the sort of treatment suited to an officer of your calibre, but
it’s the best we could do under the circumstances. We should be far
enough from the enemy that your gag won’t be necessary. If I may,
Captain?”
    Sydney stared at Karnage with a cold, burning hate. Karnage
took that for assent. He grabbed the corner of the duct tape, and
ripped it off with a quick snap. Sydney’s teeth grazed his knuckles as
he pulled his hand clear. The clack of her teeth snapping shut echoed
across the desert.
    “Easy there, Captain. You nearly took my hand off.”
    “Sorry,” Sydney said. “I won’t miss next time.”
    Karnage nodded. “Good. Either do the job right the first time or
don’t do it at all. Sometimes you don’t get a second chance.”
    Sydney scowled. “You know, taking me hostage was probably the
stupidest thing you could possibly have done.”
    “Hostage? Oh, no. You ain’t no hostage. Not by a long shot. You’re
a POW, with all the inherent rights and privileges therein. And as
for me bein’ stupid, from what I’ve seen you’re probably the only
Dabneycop with even half a chance of bringin’ me in. So long as I
keep you with me, you can’t be plannin’ any nasty surprises for me
and Stumpy here. This way I know exactly where you are and what
you’re up to.”
    “Am I supposed to be impressed?”
    “If you like.”
    “Well, I’m not. You’ll find I’m very hard to hold onto.”
    Karnage smiled. “You’re angry. I get that. Mad. Pissed off. Hopin’
to cause me a lot o’ trouble as soon as you’re able.”
    “You got that right.”
    “And you understand o’ course why I can’t let that happen.”
    “And what do you plan on doing about it?”
    “Well, I could just knock you cold with the butt o’ my rifle here.
But I thought I’d give you a choice first. See if you’d be willin’ to keep
your temper.”
    “I’m sorry, are you asking me to behave myself?”
    “I am,” Karnage said. “Only until we get to our destination. Then
you can jump up and down and scream and holler, and raise any kind
o’ holy hell you like.”
    “And where are you going?”
    “Camp Bailey.”
    Sydney furrowed her eyebrows. “Camp Bailey? Why the hell
would you go there?”
    “Stumpy and I are gonna fire up the Godmaster Array and stir up
some shit. Ain’t that right, Corporal?”
    Stumpy saluted. “Sir, yes, sir!”
    Sydney looked incredulously from one to the other. “You can’t be
serious. Do you have any idea what’s waiting for you out there? No,
of course not. If you did, you wouldn’t even be thinking of trying
something so damn stupid.”
    “Why? What’s out there?”
    “The Church of Spragmos.”
    Stumpy fell