This month’s theme:
Alternate Realities

Here is basically the same story in several genres — until the ends of the stories. As a pair of Easter eggs, the title of each story is a classic video game, and each story ends with a quote from a movie or TV show of a similar genre. The games and quotes are identified at the end.

“Rescue on Fractalus!”
Science fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

Captain Dash Neptune saw the alien almost too late.

He’d pursued the creature that had attacked his junior officer after they’d landed their small spaceship on the planet Fractalus. He was too late to stop the thing — it was damn near the size of his spaceship! — from gobbling her up in one gulp, and when he’d shot the creature with his ray gun, it had fled into the dark jungle. Neptune had pursued, but the creature had hid in the thick rainforest and Dash almost didn’t hear the branches rustling behind him in time.

He spun about, drawing his ray gun from the holster on his silver spacesuit, and the beast was there, roaring at him with a massive, sharp-toothed maw and giant red eyes, charging with clawed hands and lashing tentacles.

Dash fired at the beast’s head; it flew backward, roaring in pain. But it got itself together and immediately charged again, all teeth and red eyes and flailing tentacles, towering high above the spaceman.

“Sorry, beastie,” the captain said, and he quickly slid the lever on his gun up to maximum and fired again.

The creature’s head exploded in a shower of blood and flesh. Dash hurried forward before the big body finished collapsing to the ground and snapped his gun into cutting mode. A decimeter-long laser blade extended from it, and he sliced the massive belly open.

A hand reached out, and he grabbed it and pulled. Through the goo came the humanoid form, encased in a silver spacesuit like his, only this one’s helmet was active. The humanoid reached up to tap the controls; the helmet folded back and retracted into the suit’s neck ring.

Big, blue eyes stared up at Captain Dash Neptune in shock.

“Why, hello, Ruby,” he said with a grin.

“I thought I was going to die,” Lieutenant Ruby Saturn said as he helped her to her feet.

“Not possible,” Dash said. “You were never alone.”

“Gauntlet”
Sword & sorcery
By David M. Fitzpatrick

The wizard Jayne Trillow saw the stone golem almost too late.

She’d pursued the creature after it had absorbed her companion after they’d first met the golem a thousand miles away. She hadn’t known how to stop the thing — damn near twenty feet tall! — from absorbing Argus, Jayne’s fearless warrior lover, as it had so many others. When she’d tried to freeze it with one of the spells in her wand, the stone golem had absorbed the magic and transformed it, teleporting away. Neptune had searched the continent until she finally tracked it down, plodding through the canyon on feet of rock.

Jayne was ready this time, with magic tailored to combat such an enchanted creature. The stone golem, like a living statue, thundered on its massive feet, reaching with a giant hand for her, never making a sound, always staring with blind, thoughtless eyes. It was so massive, so unstoppable, that she might as well have been facing a gauntlet of legions of soldiers trying to kill her.

Jayne called on her new wand and hit it with all the power it contained. Disenchantment magic exploded out in a spray of blinding green light and the golem couldn’t counter it. But even that wasn’t enough; the golem staggered back against the force — until the energy finally died out. The golem resumed its advance on her.

“Enough of this,” the wizard said. She tossed the spent wand aside, reached both hands into her cloak, and withdrew two wands. Unlike the slender stick she’d just discarded, these were thick branches, and they glowed with power. She hollered the command words and launched the massive spells from both.

The creature froze in the magical onslaught, a brilliant assault of violet magic from one and red from the other. Jayne kept up the attack until the big wands were both drained. The stone golem was leaning forward with its hand extended, reaching for her; dead in its tracks, it toppled forward, and when it hit the ground it exploded in a massive shower of gravel.

And, suddenly, the people the golem had absorbed flashed into existence. One by one they appeared, flashing into existence faster and faster, until a crowd had formed. Soon, the canyon floor was filled with thousands of them, all victims of the golem’s long career of absorbing any who got in its way.

Jayne Trillow searched the thickening crowd with hopeful eyes — and suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun about and saw Argus there, smiling in wonder, bedecked in his full-plate armor and still wielding his big sword.

“Why, hello, Argus,” she said with a smile.

“You came to save everyone,” Argus said. “And… to save me.”

She smiled and took his hand. “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.

“Doom”
Vampire
By David M. Fitzpatrick

Jack Chang saw the vampire almost too late.

He was walking on the beach at night and saw her approaching, but he was distracted by her swaying hips and ample breasts, alluringly lit by the pale light of a full moon obscured by thin clouds; he assumed she was just another beachwalker. But suddenly she bared her teeth and rushed him, and her red eyes lit up in the darkness — but of course she didn’t know who he was. She was fast — moving at damn near thirty miles per hour, he guessed! — but he drew his wooden stake, with four sharp steel blades along its length, and sliced as he sidestepped. It was dipped in garlic juice, and she shrieked in pain. She took off across the sand, into the darkness.

Jack pursued, bladed stake in hand. He’d been a vampire hunter since one had taken his wife, Melinda, and his mission was to kill them all. He almost didn’t see his would-be attacker again; she was hiding behind a lifeguard stand in the dark, and he saw the red glow of her eyes just before she tried to rush him. He slashed again, and she howled.

“Time to die, bitch,” he snarled, and he pulled the garlic wreath from his jacket and threw it at her. It ringed around her neck and she went down, growling at him. He leaped atop her, lifting his steel-edged wooden stake high; she fought, stronger than a human woman her size but weak for a vampire. Probably young.

The clouds moved away from the face of the full moon then, and everything lit up like daybreak. He was about to drive the stake through her heart when he realized who he was straddling and about to impale. She realized it at the same time, and her red eyes grew wide.

“Melinda?” he cried.

“Jack?” she said, and she began to cry. “Do it, Jack! End it!”

“I thought you were dead,” he said. “Why didn’t you come back to me?”

“Like this? How could I?”

He dropped his knife and leaned down to kiss her.

“I’m yours forever, through anything,” he said, and he tilted his head to offer his throat to her. “Make me like you.”

She was stunned. “I couldn’t do that to you,” she said as tears streamed down her face. “I love you too much to make you live this hell. It’s a hell I have to endure alone.”

“No,” Jack said, meeting her red eyes in the darkness. “Being together can never be hell; but suffering alone is. I love you too much to condemn you.”

She burst into sobs and grabbed him, and held him, before they’d do what needed to be done.

“Resident Evil”
Zombie
By David M. Fitzpatrick

Mike saw the zombie almost too late.

He was walking down a deserted suburban street under a bright sun, baseball bat over his shoulder, looking for any houses he hadn’t yet looted — he’d gotten just about every one in his neighborhood — when he saw the thing lurching toward him. The neighborhood was devoid of any living humans, and he’d cleaned most of the zombies out; it was HIS neighborhood, after all, and if he had nothing left, by God he’d have his neighborhood.

The zombie saw him and quickened its staggering pace. Mike had a handgun out, ready for it; a quick shot to the head was all it would take. But as the zombie was upon him, he realized that it was Zeke Swanson. Still un-alive! He holstered his gun and readied the baseball bat. He sidestepped the zombie and swung at its legs — but he missed.

Mike spun about, brandishing the bat like a home-run hero, and planted his feet as the zombie turned and came back for him. This time, he focused and took out its legs, and the monster went down. Mike attacked, swinging the bat again and again, smashing the thing’s legs from femurs to feet, and then did the same to its arms. When he was done, the zombie lay in the dark street, growling and gnashing its teeth, unable to make its ruined limbs work.

“Oh, you’re not going to die, bitch,” Mike growled at it.

He remembered his friendship with Zeke. They’d worked together for fifteen years, and they lived in the same neighborhood. Their families got together for everything: cookouts, picnics, ball games, family vacations. They were inseparable. It was last year that Mike discovered that Zeke had been screwing Mike’s wife for the past decade… and that the bastard had knocked up Mike’s 16-year-old daughter. The man had ruined his family, and then Zeke arranged to get Mike fired from his long-time job. Zeke was no kind of friend.

“I’m going to drag you back to my garage,” Mike said, “and spike you to the wall. You screwed my wife and ruined my marriage. You screwed my daughter and destroyed her life. And you got me fired and almost finished me. But then the apocalypse came along, and now I get my vengeance.”

He leaned close to the zombie, as it thrashed its heads and clacked its teeth at him, and grinned.

“I’m going to enjoy pissing on your head every day for the rest of your death,” he said.

The zombie Zeke snarled and snapped its teeth, fruitlessly trying to eat its former friend.

“I hope that, somewhere in that brain of yours, you’re in there, Zeke — because you’re about to learn what you taught me last year,” Mike said. He leaned even closer, until he could feel its stinking, dead breath on his face. “It’s amazing how quickly things can go from bad to total shit storm.”

“Stampede”
Cow
By David M. Fitzpatrick

Bessie saw the farmer’s wife almost too late.

She’d been enjoying munching hay out in the field and chewing her cud when suddenly the woman was there, rope in hand. Bessie was immediately terrified; sometimes, she knew, cows were led away and never returned. She mooed and tried to hurry away, and the farmer’s wife threw the looped rope — and missed her black-and-white cow head. She was a young cow, and she didn’t know what to think about this. She didn’t want to be anyone’s dinner. She hurried away, slow because of her size, on frantic hooves, but the farmer’s wife followed.

She heard the woman running up behind her, and this time the loop landed on her nose. She shook it free, lowing nervously, and flipped her head aside — only for the next toss to ring around her neck and pull tight. She was captured. She mooed, hoping to alert the other cows. They could stampede to protect her! But none came to her aid.

“Oh, you’re going to be just fine, sweetie,” the farmer’s wife said. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

Bessie’s eyes were wide as the woman tugged on the rope and led her toward the barn. Could she stampede alone? Would it be enough? Bessie was big, and she knew she could pull against the rope... but why bother? The woman would call the farmer and the farm hands, and they’d get her eventually. She followed slowly, in tow, until they entered the dark barn. Fear surged through her.

The farmer’s wife tied her to the post and petted her on the head.

“Okay, Bessie,” she said, “let’s take care of that. I bet it’s uncomfortable.”

The woman pulled up a small stool and a metal bucket, sat, and grabbed for Bessie’s teats. She began tugging, and Bessie heard the milk hit the bucket — and felt instant relief that only got better as the moments passed.

“MOO!” she mooed in happiness as the woman milked her.

“That’s right, Bessie!” the farmer’s wife said with a laugh, and then began singing: “You got to MOO! You got to MOO! You got to MOO! You got to MOO…!”

“Gumshoe”
Crime
By David M. Fitzpatrick

I saw the gunman almost too late. I unbuttoned my long coat, tight across my bosom, and drew my pistol when I saw him in the dark. He was guarding the back door to the place, and he went for his gun, too.

I’d sneaked around the building at midnight because I knew they were holding Jenny hostage there. She was just my assistant at Amanda Devon Investigations; she answered the phones, managed my schedule, and made my heart skip a beat all too often. She was innocent and didn’t deserve this. I got the drop on the thug and shot first, and he crumpled. One down.

All this over those damn diamonds. I didn’t even care about the recovery job, since Bornson, my client who wanted them, had turned out to be involved in the international sex-slave trade. That’s what you get when you hire a P.I. who always background-checks her own clients. Yeah, I didn’t give a rat’s ass about those rocks anymore. All that mattered was Jenny. I opened the door and found an unoccupied, well-lit hallway. Guess they didn’t think a woman would be able to handle their one guy. What was it Kinerson had called me? Some misogynistic nickname that I can’t recall. Something childish and stupid.

I made my way down the hall and up the stairs. There was no one to stop me, and soon I was on the second floor, and I could hear Kinerson’s voice — and Jenny’s crying.

“The diamonds are mine, little girlie,” he was saying. “And so are you. Once I put a bullet into that dickless dick you work for…”

Oh, right. That was the nickname. Brainy as hell.

“...then me and the boys’ll show you a good time, you sweet little piece...”

Not on my goddam watch. I had nine rounds left in the magazine, and I drew that gun’s twin so I had another ten ready. I kicked the door in like an action hero and started firing with both. There were five of them, plus Kinerson, and I dropped all five henchmen in a rapid hail of bullets before anyone could think to draw a gun. Kinerson was standing in the middle of the room, and he was utterly stunned. I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head, and even from across the room I could see his uvula, given how low his jaw was hanging. The big, velvet-lined case with the three dozen oversized diamonds displayed was on the table; next to that was Jenny, tied to a chair and gagged. Her eyes were wide with a mix of terror and relief. Kinerson’s hand twitched; he wanted to go for the gun he wore in his shoulder holster.

“Try it,” I snarled, both barrels trained on him. He’d have to reach up and across his body to draw.

“I’ll give you the diamonds,” Kinerson said, shaking. “Bornson will just sell them and fuel his sex-slave trade, you know. You can’t possibly support that.”

I steeled my gaze and sighted at him down the barrel. “I said… try it.”

Kinerson must have thought that no woman with two guns pointed at him could be faster than a man with one gun holstered. Big mistake. I let him reach for it, grab it, yank it out of its holster, and start to bring it to bear before I let loose with six rounds from two guns into his chest. I finished with one between his eyes before he went down.

I removed Jenny’s gag first, and she burst into tears. “Mandy! I thought I was going to die!” she cried. She was as young, blond, and beautiful as I was old, brunette, and average. She was just an forty-year-old woman’s fantasy, I suppose.

I untied her before snapping the case closed on the diamonds. When I turned to tell her that we had to go, she was right there. She reached up to cup my face in her hands.

“I didn’t want to die without telling you that I’m in love with you,” she whispered.

My heart swelled. I guess fantasies can come true. I reached for her and pulled her to me.

“Maybe we don’t recover the diamonds,” I said. “That’s two million bucks’ worth. No sex-slaver deserves them. We could run away together.”

She smiled. “Sounds crazy.”

“I love you,” I said with a smile in return. “I’m willing to do irrational things to prove it.”

ANSWERS:
“Rescue on Fractalus!” was a 1984 first-person shooter by Lucasfilm Games (before it was called LucasArts Entertainment). The final two lines of dialogue were uttered by Kirk and Spock in Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989).

“Gauntlet” was a classic 1985 four-player arcade game that was also nicely done on the NES. The quote was by Arwen to Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001).

“Doom” is the classic 1993 first-person shooter from id Software. The last sentence the narrator speaks is by Dracula from the film Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992).

“Resident Evil” is the zombie video game, originally released in 1996 for the PlayStation. The quote was by Columbus in the movie Zombieland (2009).

“Stampede” is the classic Atari 2600 video game from 1981 (1982 for the Intellivision). The quote is by the cows singing it in the movie Barnyard (2006). I barely remember the movie; it was bad, featuring bulls with udders, and I got the quote off a quotes site. I have no idea if it’s entirely accurate. I just refuse to watch the movie to find out, and there aren’t many movies out there starring cows.

“Gumshoe” is the 1986 Nintendo video game — which, coincidentally, features a detective trying to recover diamonds. The final line was by Temperance Brennan in the episode “The Partners in the Divorce” (2012), episode 8.02 of the TV series Bones.

David M. Fitzpatrick is a fiction writer in Maine, USA. His many short stories have appeared in print magazines and anthologies around the world. He writes for a newspaper, writes fiction, edits anthologies, and teaches creative writing. Visit him at www.fitz42.net/writer to learn more.