The Mulligan Planet



  The Mulligan Planet

  by

  Zachariah Dracoulis

  Prologue

  Pale moonlight leaked into the first class cabin where I sat by myself looking out over the sprawling cityscape that we were fast approaching.

  “Dr Reynolds?” The hostess' sickeningly sweet voice rang through cabin as she walked in from behind me, “Dr Reynolds, sir?”

  It took me a moment to remember my assumed identity, “Yes, what is it now?”

  She had come to stand beside my remarkably soft chair while looking down at me over her narrow nose in very apparent disapproval, her blue hat and dress ensemble would forever be associated with the negativity that had been put on me over the course of this flight, “We're landing and the fasten seat-belt sign has been turned on.”

  I adjusted my tie and licked my blood soaked teeth, “I am aware, any more blatantly obvious information that you would like to enrich me with?”

  Condescension wrapping my words and my expression as I looked up at her.

  “Please fasten your seat-belt sir.” she hissed in an attempt to command me.

  Throughout the entire flight from Heathrow airport it had been ‘Please sit down sir. Please be careful with the champagne sir. Please refrain from performing raucous activities in the restroom sir. Where is Mr Hendersen sir?’ I was thoroughly annoyed with this entire journey, especially the part where my target had figured out who I was and why I was aboard the plane.

  The result was a somewhat messy improvisation that ended with a locked lavatory painted in a deep crimson and decorated in the unfortunate Mr Hendersen.

  “We will not be able to land until you have fastened your seat-belt sir.”

  I turned back to looking out through the window. “Then I suppose we'll be up here for a while, go fetch me a drink of something.” There was a long wait before she realised with a huff that her false sense of authority wouldn't work at our altitude, storming off down the aisle toward the back of the plane.

  'This is it.' I thought to myself, 'No more war, no more fighting and no more killing.' The end of a dark era was approaching, much like the tarmac of Brisbane airport as we descended. A loud bang made me flinch as it forced its way into my sensitive ears as the intercom system was activated.

  “Would Dr Reynolds please remain aboard upon arrival at gate four. Thank you for travelling with Hare Airlines.”

  I untied my right leather shoe, loosening the lace enough that the shoe could slip off easily and folded my black jacket over my left forearm. My breathing low and laboured, the result of not fully recovering from the one lucky hit that Hendersen had managed to get in before I put him in his place. The curtain behind me ruffled as two large men in blue and black uniforms entered. “Come with us Dr Reynolds.” I stood, stretching my legs and rolling my shoulders; forcing a series of brilliantly satisfying cracks, “How about a magic trick first? Watch the pretty birdy.” I flung my jacket in the face of the first guard and, before he could pull it off, kicked my shoe off at him, the heel connecting with his forehead causing him to fall backward onto his co-worker. Who then fell under the added weight like a meaty domino through the red curtain behind them.

  I ran down the aisle, leaping over them once I was close enough to the tumbling giants, grabbing my coat off of the face of the guard in my right hand before rolling off my left arm and back onto my feet.

  After pulling on and buttoning my jacket I turned to face the guard tangled in a mess of red fabric trying to reach for his gun under the unconscious body of his friend, “See, I wouldn't be doing that.” While he continued to reach I adjusted my cuffs, “If you touch that gun or your walkie-talkie I'll have to kill you, and I really don't want to.”

  He stopped, “That's a good lad, now toss me that shoe.” His trembling hands hesitated, “Oh stop it, I'm not going to hurt you.” The still trembling hands began pawing around before gaining purchase on my shoe, tossing it about a metre from me weakly. I rolled my eyes as I bent down to pick up my shoe, “That was pathetic, truly.”

  “Stop right there! Put your hands up!” I stopped for a second and smiled as I rose, my hands up in the air while still holding my shoe, “Drop the wea- shoe!” I nodded as I dropped and kicked it at the guard's face. He dropped down uselessly upon the impact as the relatively heavy chunk of leather bent and snapped my toes back in the process. “Ow! Bloody - piece of - ow!”

  I began limping over to the large unconscious lump of man and curtain after jumping around on my foot for a few seconds, scooped up the shoe and fell on my backside as I pulled it on and tied the laces, taking a moment to survey what sat, rather, laid in front of me after I was done, “They never listen.”

  I grabbed the pistol from the guard's loose grip and tucked it into my jacket's inner pocket as I stood, “I'm forgetting something...” Snapping my fingers a few times reminded me somehow, “Suitcase! Can't forget the suitcase.” After I made my way back through the empty plane I found the locked lavatory and held my breath before kicking the door in.

  The mess of Mr Hendersen's... everything was scattered around the tiny room and my suitcase was not spared. “Delightful.” that one word was enough for me to get a whiff of the urine and defecate scattered around the toilet as I lightly lifted my stainless steel, blood covered suitcase with my fore-finger and thumb causing me to retch as I evacuated the cramped room.

  Once I had exited the plane and entered the hallway I popped the locks on my suitcase before dropping it to the floor, immediately setting off the EMP encased within. The lit airport disappeared into darkness, cameras deactivated and, most importantly, hard-drives were erased. The people screaming and children crying that would have irritated me greatly if it were any other day, rang emptily in my ears.

  Passengers and staff scrambled around in the pitch black that was as clear as day to me, guards desperately trying to calm them down while I ducked and weaved through the terrified horde, their scent so appealing that I was having to fight myself from latching onto the nearest vein and draining the life from the paralysed victim. Deciding that it was a bad, albeit delicious, idea I continued onto baggage collection. Where I grabbed my black duffel bag that sat on a frozen carousel surrounded by confused people as the blinding lights flickered back to life.

  I stepped out into the rich night air and entered the heavily lemony fresh scented back-seat of the first taxi I saw, “Take me somewhere quiet, a bar or something.”

  The Indian driver clicked away on his little console, “How about Lou's?”

  I shrugged, looking out through the window into the massive city as we pulled out of the chaotic pick up zone, I was finally a free man for the first time in decades, “Sure, let's go.”

  Graveyard Shift

  My name is John Prince; I sleep for the majority of the day and worked for the majority of the night as a bartender at Lou’s Bar. I had been living in a decent apartment on a decent wage for a few years before the whole... well, I'll get into that later.

  Brisbane is where I'd called home for the past fifteen years after permanently shipping out of Winchester where I had created a rogue British special operatives unit. I ended up being the only one left, sad stuff. Anyway, I ended up moving from motel room to house to apartment, anywhere that was comfortable with cash and limited records. This was done primarily in an attempt to avoid 'unsociable' types.

  I’m twenty four years old, have been for two hundred and forty years. I’m a vampire. I have been fighting off hunters, police and other vampires for the past two centuries. I don’t burst into flames when I step into light. I am rather sensitive to the sun though, blisters, redness, heatstroke, nothing beneficial for me really. Onward, to more about being a vampire, garlic isn't a
problem, well, beyond the breath. I’m much stronger than the average person, also, getting shot hurts a great deal.

  I don't know why I felt like I should explain that, it's, at bare minimum, a super-heated piece of metal travelling at three hundred and sixty metres per second. Not exactly a cuddle, but I do get the benefit of a very decent healing factor. I have very sensitive senses of smell and hearing while my vision is next to unparalleled if I decide to focus. Oh! And crucifixes, no problem whatsoever, provided you don't throw them at me, that's an annoyance which I've dealt with several times in the past. Just thought I should cover those few points before I got into this.

  “John!” My night manager’s thick Irish voice bounced through the bar, “Give us a hand moving this bloody table!”

  I flung my bench cloth over my shoulder, “Give me a second Pat!” I began to walk over to the circular table where Patrick sat with a pint of Guinness in one of his brawny hands while the other stroked his grey beard. He looked up as I walked over, “Lad! Chuck this one on the others over there would ya? My back’s out.”

  He hopped off of the table, landing with a decent thud in front of me. Patrick wouldn’t have been taller than 5’2, a full foot shorter than me, but was heavily built. I nodded as I picked