Read Online Skeletons by Al Sarrantonio - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Al Sarrantonio
Tags: Horror
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walk into the curtained partition in first class where they keep the bar and the food dolly, a little elevator set into the bottom of the compartment that brings all that hot, good, nutritious first-class airline food up from the galley. There's a little button on it that at first does nothing. I'm thinking maybe the power's gone out, but then it bumps to a stop and I pull the little door open. Not too big inside, but when I pull all the aluminum trays and shelves out, it's just right for me and my briefcase.
Which is just in time, because some of those skeleton dudes have made their way up the ramp and are shooting into the cabin. And now I notice a curious fact, that when one of my air compadres goes down, he soon makes a reappearance as one of the bone men, everything flaking away to leave just that cartoon skeleton. And there's something else from weirdland : up close, these bone boys aren't all bones, but part ghost, too, since I can see the faint outline of something human when the light hits them the right way.
But enough idle thoughts: it's into the elevator, pull the little door closed, and wait for whatever.
I've got a plan, of course; always do. They didn't call me "The Shark" at Roundabout Records for nothing. They also called me "The Shit" and "The Weasel" and "The Whackhead ," but none of that bothered me. "Pustule" bothered me a little, but what the fu, I was getting paid for it.
So what's the plan, Jan? When in doubt, wait it out. I really don't think the boneheads are gonna blow the plane while they're on it. Hell, they might even need it later. What they're gonna do, from observation, is off everybody in sight. And, to continue the scenario, once they off everybody, then everybody is gonna be just like them and they'll all go away. Is that Cap'n Bob I hear yodeling a scream close by? Could be. There's just enough room in here to reach in and uncap another of these fine baby Gilbey's â
Damn! Spilled it on myself! I'm as bad as the cow! Jeez, I'd like to scream a little. These leather pants are taking a beating, I hope the bonies didn't get Rita yet; she's got to reconnect me to that tailor friend of hers and get me another pair of these beauties.
Jesus, is that an engine?
Oh, Christ, they haven't gotten Cap'n Bob yet after all. I hear him hooting in glee in his little cockpit, the dumb little shit, and one of the engines is fired up! He's gonna kill us all now, for sure!
Then, the blat of an automatic weapon sounds close by. Cap'n Bob screeches like a woman and then, mercifully, the plane is shut down.
Wish I could cut a line in here.
One more little bottle of vodkaâcareful this time, ol' Rogerâand, ah, it's time to take a little nap, to the sounds of rat-tat-tat and the mopping-up going on outside, and the words of that Vomits lullaby singing playfully in my head:
Go to sleep,
Go to sleep,
Go to sleep, little bitch,
You got what you wanted
You took what you wanted
You got what you wanted
 So now go to sleep. . . .
And they really thought these suckers could make it without a guy like me?
4
Â
Awake to blessed silence. I'm no dumb shit, so I give a long listen before opening the door. They may have left somebody on the plane, but I doubt it. They probably searched all the way through it, and if they haven't found me by now, I'm one free dude. So slowly I open the door, uncramp the legsâdamn that spilled vodka smellâand roll out into the aisle like a baby, pulling my briefcase after meâ
Nothing.
Darkness, the ambering down of the plane's batteries giving the aisles that night-light look, and outside: still nighttime!
All right, I didn't sleep the night away. With this brush-head look of mine, maybe I can blend in with the boneheads.
So up and down the aisles. Nothing but luggage here, I doubt there's anything worth taking in any of them. A couple of piles of dust, but my boot does away with those.
A look out the windows: nothing. The airport seems
Which is just in time, because some of those skeleton dudes have made their way up the ramp and are shooting into the cabin. And now I notice a curious fact, that when one of my air compadres goes down, he soon makes a reappearance as one of the bone men, everything flaking away to leave just that cartoon skeleton. And there's something else from weirdland : up close, these bone boys aren't all bones, but part ghost, too, since I can see the faint outline of something human when the light hits them the right way.
But enough idle thoughts: it's into the elevator, pull the little door closed, and wait for whatever.
I've got a plan, of course; always do. They didn't call me "The Shark" at Roundabout Records for nothing. They also called me "The Shit" and "The Weasel" and "The Whackhead ," but none of that bothered me. "Pustule" bothered me a little, but what the fu, I was getting paid for it.
So what's the plan, Jan? When in doubt, wait it out. I really don't think the boneheads are gonna blow the plane while they're on it. Hell, they might even need it later. What they're gonna do, from observation, is off everybody in sight. And, to continue the scenario, once they off everybody, then everybody is gonna be just like them and they'll all go away. Is that Cap'n Bob I hear yodeling a scream close by? Could be. There's just enough room in here to reach in and uncap another of these fine baby Gilbey's â
Damn! Spilled it on myself! I'm as bad as the cow! Jeez, I'd like to scream a little. These leather pants are taking a beating, I hope the bonies didn't get Rita yet; she's got to reconnect me to that tailor friend of hers and get me another pair of these beauties.
Jesus, is that an engine?
Oh, Christ, they haven't gotten Cap'n Bob yet after all. I hear him hooting in glee in his little cockpit, the dumb little shit, and one of the engines is fired up! He's gonna kill us all now, for sure!
Then, the blat of an automatic weapon sounds close by. Cap'n Bob screeches like a woman and then, mercifully, the plane is shut down.
Wish I could cut a line in here.
One more little bottle of vodkaâcareful this time, ol' Rogerâand, ah, it's time to take a little nap, to the sounds of rat-tat-tat and the mopping-up going on outside, and the words of that Vomits lullaby singing playfully in my head:
Go to sleep,
Go to sleep,
Go to sleep, little bitch,
You got what you wanted
You took what you wanted
You got what you wanted
 So now go to sleep. . . .
And they really thought these suckers could make it without a guy like me?
4
Â
Awake to blessed silence. I'm no dumb shit, so I give a long listen before opening the door. They may have left somebody on the plane, but I doubt it. They probably searched all the way through it, and if they haven't found me by now, I'm one free dude. So slowly I open the door, uncramp the legsâdamn that spilled vodka smellâand roll out into the aisle like a baby, pulling my briefcase after meâ
Nothing.
Darkness, the ambering down of the plane's batteries giving the aisles that night-light look, and outside: still nighttime!
All right, I didn't sleep the night away. With this brush-head look of mine, maybe I can blend in with the boneheads.
So up and down the aisles. Nothing but luggage here, I doubt there's anything worth taking in any of them. A couple of piles of dust, but my boot does away with those.
A look out the windows: nothing. The airport seems
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