The lighting rails struck the soundstage with tremendous impact, the resounding clap of steel meeting rock cracked the atmosphere as sparks and debris were flung everywhere. Great clouds of dust obscured the set, filling the on-line monitors with thick static. A few seconds later they came back on, illuminating the disastrous scene.
Thorton watched in disbelief, his jaw hanging wide, his eyes staring out from under the bandages. Fran stared at the destruction also, mortified at the carnage. From the back areas of the soundstage, Stacy and Mark watched in terrified silence.
A moment later a Loved One rose from the wreckage, gave an ear-splitting cry and pointed at Jeremy Phillips, thrown back against a twisted railing. The next instant the man ripped a volley of bullets through its pudgy belly, orange and pink innards bursting from the impact. The creature fell backwards, flattening out against the cold unyielding surface of the rocky floor.
"Why Jeremy, that wasn't a nice thing to do," quipped a low, moronic voice from under the pile of debris.
"Show yourself, you grinning hunk of lard!" shouted Jeremy, picking himself off the floor. He nervously looked around and surveyed the damage. The Loved Ones who had fallen with him were either dead or bleeding excessively. To his surprise, he felt a hand grasp him by the ankle and he was yanked off of his feet. His chin hit the floor. Hard. The gun slipped out of his grip and rattled across the floor.
"Bad, bad, bad Jeremy! Try to kill Baby Bop and Barney! Silly Jeremy, we never die! Gonna teach you big lesson! Real, real, real big lesson!"
Jeremy looked by his feet and saw Baby Bop, her neck still snapped in half, clutching his ankle. Her head wobbled crazily and a large segment of bone jutted out of her shoulder. It was her vertebrate. Yet, the frenzied baby-like creature cursed and clawed at him.
Barney's titanic purple head rose out from under a pastel-painted flat. He saw Jeremy's dilemma and grinned widely, his gleaming white teeth shining cruelly. Jeremy frantically kicked at Baby Bop, but the green dinosaur hung on with incredible strength. Jeremy reached behind him for the gun, but when he looked, he saw it was gone. Instead, a man wrapped up in dingy tapes and bandages and sitting in a chair was there, leveling it at him.
Thorton Marshall. Jeremy couldn't mistake the thick glasses and the lunatic eyes. Not even under those soiled bandages.
"I-I've got him, Barney," said Thorton, a quivering smile coming across his bruised and swollen face. "You can take him prisoner again, he's not going anywhere!"
"Thorton, you are indeed my Special, Special Friend! Thank you for getting the gun and capturing Jeremy. As a matter of fact, I've a special, super-ka-duper favor to ask of you!"
"Oh Barney, you know I'd do anything for you! Anything at all, because you're my Special Friend and you love me so. What is it?"
The bloated violet reptile rose from the debris and waddled over to the bandaged man. With a fresh smile and a paw placed lovingly upon Thorton's shoulder, he replied.
"Kill him. Shoot him through the face."
Thorton paused. He looked back at Barney and laughed, nervously. "What?"
"Shoot bad, bad, Jeremy! Make him bleed! Teach Jeremy super-good lesson, you can!" squealed Baby Bop ecstatically.
Thorton raised the gun and aimed the sights at Jeremy's face. Torrents of sweat began trickling down both men's faces, and Thorton began twitching uncontrollably. "But Barney," whispered Thorton, "killing is . . . bad. I . . . I've never killed before. It's not right . . . I can't do it."
Stacy and Mark huddled from a distant corner of the set, mortified at the scene. Fran sat up in the control booth, desperately trying to free herself of her restraints.
"Thorton, you are my Special Friend, aren't you? Would't you do anything that I asked you too? You know, if your good old pal Barney asks you to do it, that doesn't mean it's bad at all! You know how much I love you, don't you?"
Thorton shook his head. "But in the videos, and all your books, you never did anything to harm anyone else . . . you taught us that fighting was bad, and that we should apologize if we hurt someone, and we can all be friends and love one another-" The next instant Thorton lowered the gun and began crying uncontrollably. Tears rushed down his face and soaked his glasses and bandages. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. For all of this," cried the man.
"Weak, fraidy-cat Thorton is crying! Like big baby! Big little baby! Can't do it! Scared! Scaredy, scaredy Thorton! " hissed Baby Bop, pulling herself out of the collapsed set, her head dangling upon her shoulder. "Gonna cry, now? Want Mommy? Mommy don't love big weak worthless crying-Thorton babies!"
"Shut up!" screamed Thorton. "Just shut up and leave me alone!" The man's reddened face cringed and he collapsed into Barney's arms.
Jeremy was free of Baby Bop's grip, but he couldn't leave. He sat on the floor engrossed in the emotional spectacle before him.
Barney soothingly stroked Thorton's head, patting him on the back with the other hand. "Why Thorton, there's no need to cry. Don't you know that I still love you? It's okay, don't feel ashamed. I will love you always."
Thorton sniffed and looked into Barney's dead, empty eyes. "You . . . you really mean it, Barney?"
"Why of course!" chirped the fat dinosaur. "I will love you Thorton, even if you're scared, or if you're angry . . ."
Jeremy sensed it. He darted away and hid.
". . . or even if you're dead!"
Thorton reacted too late. The moment he looked up he saw the huge, powerful teeth enclose him and the man screamed and thrashed madly. His whole upper body was thrown back as Barney reared his head and bit clear through the hapless man's chest. The lower portion fell to the floor, spraying crimson upon the floor and Baby Bop, who giggled and jumped up and down with glee. Stacy and Mark screamed in terror, Fran averted her eyes in repulsion. Barney sat upward, guzzling Thorton's upper body, cracking bones and snapping ligaments. Bandages and entrails seeped down the chin and neck of the Great Purple Beast, who merrily swallowed the remaining portions of the unfortunate man.
"Good, good bloody Thorton! No cwy no more!" squeaked Baby Bop. Barney relaxed his head and wiped excess blood and foam from his lips with his hand. Suddenly the two dinosaurs made a horrid realization . . . .
They were still on the air. Live. Broadcast all over the country.
"Shut down the system!" screamed Barney in intense panic. He swooned at the thought of all his television disciples watching him kill his biggest fan, coast to coast, in the sanctity of their own living rooms. He barked orders at the Loved One technicians working the monitors and satellite-access systems, then noticed a camera pointed directly at him. Behind it was Jeremy Phillips. He scowled at the lone human and began racing after him.
Jeremy backed away from the camera. He had managed to focus in on Barney's cold-blooded and grisly murder of Thorton, zooming in on the creature's gleeful expression as he devoured the chair-bound man. But now Barney was enraged. Jeremy raced out of the studio and down the central tunnel.
Baby Bop finished licking Thorton's blood off her face and started yelling commands to the surviving Loved Ones, who were scampering everywhere in confusion. Fran watched from above, and realized it wasn't long before Baby Bop would send the foul servants after Stacy and Mark. If only she could undo the restraints . . . .
A second later she wrested her right arm from under its strap. She began punching buttons on the console. Immediately, a piercing, deafening hum hit the stage, causing Baby Bop and the Loved Ones to clasp their ears and grimace in agony. It had worked. Fran had set all the sound amplifiers and distortion units on maximum. In the control booth, she was insulated from the ear-splitting roar. She only hoped Stacy and Mark were out of the area. As the creatures below her writhed and screamed about the destroyed set, she unfastened her other hand and worked herself free. What she needed now was the gun, back on the soundstage floor next to Thorton's scattered remains. But to get down there she'd have to turn the amplifiers off. If she made it before they recovered . . . .
Fran hit the "OFF" button on the speaker console. The blaring siren shut off. Fran scurried down the stairs and began looking for the gun amidst the crumpled bodies of Loved Ones. She found it, still speckled with blood, and released the catch lever. As she did so a trio of Loved Ones lunged for her. She aimed low, cutting the bunch down instantly. The other Loved Ones scrambled around the desolate wrecked set for cover. She picked off a few behind the props table, and gunned down another trying to climb up the safety ladder. Still, she was uneasy. Where was Baby Bop?
"Gotcha mean Fwan!" squawked Baby Bop, clasping her powerful arms around Fran's delicate neck. "Snap your head off like mine I will! Snap, snap, snap!"
Fran spun around frantically, trying to shake the green creature off. She felt Baby Bop's teeth sink into her shoulder, and she screamed in pain. Blood drizzled down her arm and chest, yet the agony she felt gave her the strength to clutch the infantile dinosaur by the head and wrest her off. She spun around and jammed the muzzle into Baby Bop's bloodied mouth.
"Eat steel, you slimy green bitch!"
The resultant force of the burst flung Baby Bop's head completely off, and the head smacked into a concrete wall behind her. Fran heard a nauseating crack as it did so, and the green reptile's head slowly crawled down the wall, leaving a thick, pasty green trail behind it. Fran backed away, repulsed by the sight.
To her surprise and horror, the shattered head opened its thick-lashed eyes and scowled at her. "Mean, mean Fwan!" it squealed. "Gonna go now, but when Baby Bop come back, gonna make you hurt. Bad hurt!"
As Fran watched on in disbelief, the decapitated body sat upright, and ran towards Baby Bop's head. The fuzzy green arms picked it up and ran down the central corridor.
"I'll be damned," muttered Fran. "The little green swat's immortal." She checked her weapon and saw she was almost out of ammo. Jeremy would have it, she figured, and made off in the direction he and Barney had run minutes before. With luck, she thought, Stacy and Mark would be okay.
She had barely gone more than a few hundred yards when several packs of Loved Ones leapt out at her, from all directions. The pudgy creatures groped for her gun and tried to pull her down, but Fran managed to wrest free and mow down several. The survivors scurried back, enclosing the woman in a tight circle.
Fran knew her ammunition was pretty near depleted, and began to wonder how long she could bluff the Loved Ones before they caught on and charged her. Just as the bloated, cloaked monsters began edging closer, the cave was rocked by an enormous blast. Fran was knocked off her feet.
When she looked up, she saw a huge gaping hole in the corridor ceiling. The next instant heavily armored soldiers and patrolmen began lowering themselves into the cavern with cable, shining their lights about the area. Sensing an intrusion, the Loved Ones began hurling rocks and small articles at the troops, who returned the gesture with rampant gunfire.
Fran shielded herself from the ensuing bursts, hoping that they could see her and wouldn't hit her. The bullets fell like hard, stinging hail, she saw Loved Ones literally chopped to pieces under the relentless barage. Pasty pink blood spattered everywhere, and smoke filled the corridor. Cries of humans mingled with inhuman gurglings, and within moments the soldiers and patrolmen had secured the area. One woman, clad in an infantry uniform and decorated with lieutenant's bars, came over to Fran.
"You Fran Phillips?" she asked. Fran nodded her head. "Lieutenant Chelsey McKintyre, 3rd Division. I'm here with several platoons, we're gonna take this whole operation down pronto. How are you?"
"I'm fine, I guess," replied Fran. She was still a little overwhelmed. "My brother, Jeremy. Barney was chasing him."
"What direction, Fran?" asked McKintyre, her grey eyes glancing at the various corridors.
"I think that one," said Fran, pointing at the trail that led to the main chamber. "Baby Bop may have gone the same route."
"Tell you what, Fran," said the lieutenant, "we're going to leave an escort here with you in case any more of those loving lizards comes back this way. These people are trained for anything. Trust them. And there's someone else who you need to stay with." McKintyre notioned to an aging gentleman wearing a turtleneck and checkered pants.
"Aren't you Bill, Jeremy's co-worker?" asked Fran.
Bill knelt down and put his hands on her shoulders. "Sure am, Miss. Don't think we've ever been formally introduced. We'll talk more later. Just be glad we were able to lock onto the Purple Creep's transmission signal, we may have never found this place. You know you guys are 300 feet underground? So where's Jeremy?"
"Barney was chasing him, he looked pretty sore," she answered.
"And Thorton Marshall?"
Fran swallowed. "Dead. Barney killed him after Thorton refused to shoot Jeremy. It was all on television. God, it was a horrible sight."
"Well," said Bill, "it's almost over now. And it's good to know even a stoolie like Thorton had his good side. When this all gets cleared up Fran, you won't have anything to worry about."
Suddenly, the older man froze. Fran, McKintyre, and the troops in the chamber all heard the noise. It came from down the southeastern tunnel. It was Jeremy, and he was screaming.