Page 41 of Too Many Beds

A rush of pale-blue magic erupts in a torrent of expelled power from where he struck the floor. The magic shoots upwards like a wave until it hits the ceiling with an almightycrashand collapses back down. It spreads through the room in a swirling flood of blue energy.

Every mattress and pillow it touches hums with magic. The blue power pulses and whirrs, glowing ominously around them as they shudder to life like still hearts shot up with electricity.

“What. The. Actual.Fuck, though?” Tim exclaims, incredulous, from where he’s just barely peeking out from over the top of the bed we’re crouching behind.

Yeah, there’s not enough therapy or suspension of disbelief in the world to help with this gold-standard level of fucking weird. Better to not even try to understand, just accept it and do your best to suppress the knowledge that we live in a world where shit like this happens on the regular.

Before anyone can react in any other way to the madness going on around us, The Maker raises both his hands again and calls out in a brash, commanding voice, “Today you are alive, and I am your maker!”

Jesus Christ, this man needs to get a grip; it is just not cute.

There are still far too many civilians in here who stopped trying to escape when all the magic crap started happening. If curiosity killed the cat, then supervillain-related FOMO snuffs out more civilians every year than smoking.

I turn to Caleb, his profile partially blocked by the hood he’s thrown up to further obscure his identity. “I’ll go after the wizard wanker,” I say, “you get all the civilians out.”

Caleb dips his head in a quick nod and holds up a fist for me to knock mine against. “Don’t get dead, babe,” he says.

I flash him a quick grin in response before lifting my own hood and standing up to vault over the bed and commit to a mad dash in The Maker’s direction.

There are flying, pissed-off pillows with teeth—why do they have teeth,why?— zooming around the room that are apparently compelled via zombie logic to attack any nearby civilians and try to eat them. I’m more worried about the mattresses, which also seem to have developed mouths, roundand packed with sharp little teeth on their undersides like sting rays. They float through the room, collapsing down on top of stray civilians.

I snatch one pillow out of the air before it can chomp down on a screaming civilian who is scrambling along the shop floor to escape ,and lob it at the wall as hard as I can. The living pillow growls when I throw it because of course it does, what the fuck, but it bounces off the wall only to drop to the ground. Unconscious? Dead? Don’t care as long as it stays down.

Another mattress is about to settle on two more civilians to my left, so I create a bright-orange shield between them to block the attack. I hold the shield steady until Caleb charges in to grab the civilians and practically carry them off to safety.

Trusting Caleb to corral everyone he can towards the nearest exit, I focus all my attention on taking out The Maker, who is still having a good old time shouting at his pillow army between bouts of maniacal laughter.

In the past, The Maker’s been subdued by separating him from his staff, which is the source of all his power. As soon as he has that silver stick taken from him, he’ll be easy enough to bag up. It’s just getting it from the idiot in the first place that’ll prove a challenge.

For the second time today, I wish we’d thought to bring Mei with us on this shopping trip. With her ice powers, kicking The Maker’s arse would be far easier. She could just freeze him to the bloody wall and snatch that staff right out of his hands.

Thankfully, The Maker is one of those supervillains who gets too wrapped up in their own evil joy to pay much attention to their surroundings, allowing me to get close before he notices me coming for him.

He must recognise my mask because he moves into an immediate defensive stance on sight, gripping his staff tightlyand bellowing at me with the enthusiasm and stage presence of a town crier, “Barricade, my dastardly foe!Haltordie!”

Don’t ask me why he talks like that. The man’s a schoolteacher from Devon who walked into a cave on a school trip and accidentally got possessed by some sort of cave demon … thingy. We aren’t completely sure about that. I’ve got even less clue why the demon makes him speak like a medieval villain. Maybe because it’s super old, maybe because it’s taking the piss, who’s to know, who’s to say? Arguably, that’s above my pay grade.

The Maker spins his staff in an arc and brings the top end of it down, pointing it at me. Blue energy balloons out of it like blown glass, shining with pale light. I draw up a shield just in time to avoid getting a blast of magic to the face. His magic explodes against the shield, crackles of blue spreading across the orange surface, fracturing it like the rapidly splintering glass of a windowpane after a badly aimed kick of a lead ball.

Still, my shield holds, and eventually the magic dissipates, allowing me to drop it and move forward again.

The Maker growls out a string of obscenities and spins his staff around twice, building up more energy this time and blasting a comet of blue at me. I have to really brace myself against this one, setting my feet apart and throwing up a shield to catch the full brunt of all that power. The blue energy explodes over my orange shield, the impact strong enough to push me backwards a few steps, and I have to grit my teeth to stave off the wave of rippling pain that travels through my body.

It takes longer for the blue to fade away, which gives The Maker enough time to build up a third blast of energy and fire it at me as I’m still recovering from the second one. His third blast throws me off my feet, sending me sprawling backwards and sliding across the marble floor, crashing into an upturned bedframe.

“Is that all you’ve got, Barricade?” The Maker laughs uproariously at me, still spinning his staff in elaborate arcs. “Pathetic!”

Ignoring The Maker’s stock-villain dialogue, I scan the room for Caleb, looking up just in time to see Caleb punch a giant pillow in the face to prevent it from chewing out Tim’s jugular. It disturbs me on a fundamental level that a pillow could ever have a face. It’s just not right, is it?

From what I can tell, it seems like Caleb has managed to get most of the civilians out, and the ones remaining are far enough away that I don’t have to worry about The Maker attacking them directly.

I get to my feet whilst The Maker is still busymwah ha ha-ingover his short-lived victory and turn to pick up a large metal bedframe sitting behind me that thankfully has not been brought to life via magic. Inspired by Caleb, I throw the bedframe at The Maker’s stupid, bearded face. He seems to realise it’s happening in slow motion and barely manages to bring up his staff in time to prevent himself from getting brained by a large hunk of metal.

Using his distraction to my advantage, I start sprinting in his direction again. Unfortunately, since there are fewer civilians around to distract them, the zombie pillows and mattresses have more time for me, and I’m almost immediately besieged by snarling puffs of wool and gaping, foamy maws.

I bring up a shield that curves around my body like a dome, protecting myself from the creatures’ hungry mouths, their serrated teeth scraping uselessly against it. I’m just about able to keep moving towards my target, barrelling through the creatures as they batter themselves against my shield although it’s hard work and takes too long.

The Maker regains his composure before I can reach him. He snarls at me furiously, his beard in complete disarray, makinghim look extra ridiculous. When he raises his staff again, I have to stop and brace myself for the next impact, building up my shield so it’s strong enough to withstand another blow.

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