Major Karnage by Gord Zajac Page A

back against the car with a loud thud. “Sweet Christ,
say it ain’t so.”
    “It’s so. It’s beyond so. It couldn’t be more so. It’s the biggest so in
the whole damn universe, that’s how so it is.”
    Stumpy slid down the car. “Fuck me running . . .”
    Karnage turned from one to the other. “Wait a minute. Hold on
here. The Church of what ?!”
    “The Church of Spragmos,” Sydney said.
    “Spragmos . . . you mean like the gun manufacturer?!”
    “That’s right.”
    “What the fuck do they worship? Guns?”
    “No,” Sydney said.
    “They worship . . . The Worm.” Stumpy was clutching his arms
to his sides.
    “Okay, so they worship a worm.”
    “Not a worm,” Sydney said. “ The Worm.”
    “All right. The Worm. What the hell difference does it make?”
    Sydney stared at Karnage. “You really don’t know, do you?”
    “No, I do not fucking know. I spent the last twenty years locked
up in a goddamn insane asylum. There is a lot I do not know. Now
quit starin’ at me like I got monkeys growin’ outta my ears and tell
me just what is so goddamn frightening about this goddamn worm!”
    “There’s not much to tell,” Sydney said. “Nobody knows where it
came from. But it’s real. And it’s dangerous.”
    “How dangerous?” Karnage asked.
    “Dangerous enough that we stopped sending troops out to the
base because they weren’t coming back.”
    “So you just let those bastards dig in and grow stronger, while
you hole up in your office suckin’ yer thumb, hopin’ they go away?!”
    “You think I didn’t try?! I filed thirty different requests for
counter-terrorism support! Those bastards left me twisting in the
wind! You tell me what I was supposed to—”
    A shuddering screech hurtled across the desert, a violent, jagged
line of sound that cut through Karnage like a knife ripping through
fabric. “What the fuck was that?”
    “That,” Sydney said, “was The Worm.”
    “Oh fuck me.” Stumpy buried his head in his hands.
    Sydney looked around. “We must be a hell of a lot closer than I
thought.”
    Stumpy turned to Karnage, his face white. “Major, we got to get
out of here. There’s got to be another way. Another old army base.
Camp Casey is just another few hundred klicks away. We could make
it. I know we can!”
    “Listen to Stumpy, Major,” Sydney said. “If the Spragmites find
you out here—”
    The sound tore through them again, raking up and down
Karnage’s spine like an electrified cheese grater. It was so jagged.
So angry. So unlike anything he’d ever heard before. And yet, at
the same time, it felt so familiar. Like something from a dream.
Or a faded memory. A jagged black line etched in skin, slightly red
around the edges from being pressed too hard.
    And that’s when it hit him: the noise wasn’t jagged at all.
    It was squiggly.
    Karnage turned to Stumpy. “Camp Casey’s no good to me. I need
that Godmaster Array, worm or no worm. Cult or no cult. Camp
Bailey is our only option, and that is where we’re headed.”
    Sydney looked at Karnage, aghast. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve
said?”
    “Every one of ’em.”
    “And you’re still going in there?”
    “I am.”
    “You’re crazy!”
    “I been told that before.”
    “You’ll die!”
    “I been told that, too.” Karnage looked at Stumpy. Stumpy sat
there, leaning against the car, staring into the distance, rubbing
the end of his stump. “You ain’t gettin’ cold feet on me, are you,
Corporal?”
    Stumpy looked fearfully into the distance, then down at his
stump. He set his jaw, and rose to his feet. “No, sir. I’ve come this
far, I’ll go the rest of the way.” He saluted.
    Karnage returned the salute. “Good to hear, soldier.” He turned
to Sydney. “And what about you, Captain? You gonna behave or am I
gonna have to knock you out?”
    Sydney gaped at Karnage. “You don’t think you’re taking me with
you?”
    “I am,” Karnage said. “I