Randal Telk and the 396 Steps to Sexual Bliss (6 page)

“Damn Nazis,” Telk grumbled, following the rest of his fellow legionnaires. “If it were up to me, they’d all be dead.” His mind conjured another fantasy to assuage the spiders’ insult...

* * * * *

Randal Nico Telk was a loner, his childhood friends, family, and neighbors long ago deported to the Belzec Extermination Camp by the Nazi Occupation and their collaborators.
The Nazi invaders decimated Romani communities all over Europe, killing hundreds of thousands.
His own government in Romania jumped to do the Nazis
’
bidding.

Now the war was over
,
and the Nazi
’
s vanquished.
Some suggested
everyone
forget the Romani Hol
o
c
au
st
. ‘N
ostalgia
is
a luxury for others
,’ they said
.
‘
Forget the Unhappy Years.
Only criminals were rounded up by the roving
death
squads.
It was
mostly
Gypsies,
v
agrants,
v
agabonds, and the
w
ork
-
shy the
Nazis
killed.
M
any
were just deported.
Move on.
’

“
I will not move on, and I will not forget!
”
shouted Telk, kicking in the apartment door of Hans Wirth, Nazi death camp administrator from southeast Poland.
The Nazi race and eugenicist
researcher
escaped justice by claiming his pursuits were merely academic and had nothing to do with death camps.
Telk knew better.
Wirth used the Romani for his medical experiments, killing innocents in pressure tanks, with experimental drugs, by freezing, and
i
njecting chemicals to change eye color.
Telk
’
s one blue
eye
and one brown eye w
ere
proof enough of that.

Another reminder from his boyhood was the pink unicorn tattooed on
his
forearm.
The Nazi
’
s had done it as a joke.
That which doesn
’
t kill you, makes you stronger.
After escaping Belzec, Telk grew up tough and mean, his fists got hard and wits got keen.
What else could he do?
Telk would kill that man who gave him that terrible tattoo.
Telk made a vow to the moon and stars to search all the beer gardens and bars, until he found Hans Wirth.

“
I will kill you slow and painful, Hans!
”
announced Telk, ripping off the covers where Wirth lay naked in bed.
“
It
’
s time for payback!
”

“
I knew this day would come,
”
s
a
i
d
Wirth
, sighing
.
“
I am an old man.
What worse than my decay can you do?
”

“
I am only limited by time and imagination,
”
answered Telk, displaying a jagged saber.
“
Beg to be killed quick.
”

“
Stinky
G
ypsy, unworthy of life.
You are not human, not even of my species.
”
Hans Wirth clutched his left arm, pain radiating from his chest.
Weakened, Wirth rolled over
,
dying.

“
No!
”
shouted Telk, throwing the knife, striking Wirth in the throat.
Wirth
’
s last breath was a gurgle.
Telk twisted the knife, listening to the blood squish like grapes during a Romanian wine
-
making festival.
“
You pay for what you did to innocent Yolanda, who never had the chance to experience the
three-hundred-ninety-six st
eps to sexual bliss!
You bastard!
You pay!
”

* * * * *

Still in the throes of his latest fantasy,
Private Telk racked the slide back on his assault rifle, leveled it at the two spider Intelligentsia, and opened fire.
“Pay!”

“
Oh shit!
”“
shouted Sergeant Williams, grabbing Telk.
“
Why?
What have you done?
”

“
I will not move on!
”
replied Private Telk, still in a daydream daze.

“
We
’
re the Legion,
”
added Private Krueger, slapping Telk on the back.
“
We go where we please.
”

“
Right on, bro!
”
cheered Corporal Tonelli.

Even spider legionnaire Wayne seemed upbeat.
Sergeant Williams immediately reported the incident to Legion Headquarters.

“
Only two?
”
asked Major Lopez.
“
Spider Intelligentsia?
”

“
Private Telk just shot them down,
”
reported Sergeant Williams.
“
In cold blood.
”

“
Without provocation?
”

“
Yes, sir.
All the spider said was
‘
move on.
’
And Telk went crazy.
”

“
I see,
”
advised Major Lopez, annoyed.
“
Get your ass on our side of the DMZ, and stop calling me to micromanage every little thing that happens!
Understand?
”

“
Yes, sir.
”

“
If you break radio silence one more time, I
’
ll give your stripes to Telk!
”

“
Yes, sir.
”

“
Bury the bodies!
”

Chapter 7

As Legionnaires crossed the checkpoint south across the DMZ, Private Telk noticed a camel sitting lazily under a palm tree.
Maybe it was Telk
’
s imagination, but did that camel just wink?
It seemed to be smiling lewdly.
Private Telk tried to get a grip, still slightly disorientated from his wounds.
Telk
’
s comrades forgave him for the grenade incident, but Sergeant Williams was still on his ass about those two Nazi spiders.

A camel under a palm tree
, mused Private Telk.
This place
is
just like ancient Jerusalem or Nazar
eth
, except a lot different, what with aliens, legionnaires, armored cars, electricity, MREs, and no Arabs or Jews.
But, the New Gobi Desert d
oes
have camels and palms.

Spiders loved camels.
Big Al
’
s New & Used Camel Sales did a brisk business in quality camels.
Big Al, the spider proprietor of Big Al
’
s New & Used Camel Sales, cheerfully greeted the legionnaires.
To Private Telk, he said,
“
Ah, I see you
’
ve noticed Hargundu!
And Hargundu has noticed you.
It
’
s a match made in Heaven.
I
’
ll sell Hargundu to you cheap.
Hargundu has prior Legion experience, and likes to carry heavy loads.
Hargundu is a war camel, don
’
t you know!
”

“Yeah, with my luck, that camel’s probably psycho, and you’re just trying to unload him on some unsuspecting schmuck!”

“No, I assure you!”
exclaimed Big Al
a bit too emphatically.

“
I don
’
t want no used camel,
”
scoffed Private Telk, trying to keep up with the patrol
.
Al snagged his web gear with a claw
,
but
Private Telk shook him off
.
“
Let go!
”

“
Hargundu is only slightly used, don
’
t you know.
He was only ridden once a week by a little old human pestilence female to church on Sundays.
”

“
I thought you said Hargundu was a Legion camel,
”
replied Telk, shoving the camel
’
s nose away as it followed.

“
See!
Hargundu knows his name.
He is a highly trained and devoted pack camel.
”

“
He smells awful.
”

“
My camel washer called in sick,
”
explained Big Al quickly.
“
Good help is so hard to find out here on the Frontier.
I
’
ll tell you what.
I
’
ll loan you Hargundu for a week.
If Hargundu does not pull his weight, you bring him back.
Your Legion credit is good, only ninety-nine dollars for ninety-nine months!
Deal?
”

“
Whatever, I don
’
t care,
”
answered Private Telk, exhausted from the heat, throwing his gear and ammo on Hargundu
’
s back.
The camel immediately reared up, and ran off into the desert with the gear.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s – er, Telk’s – back. He threw up his hands in dismay and collapsed under the palm tree Hargundu had previously favored. The mirage of another fantasy overtook him...

* * * * *

Roman legionnaire Randalus Telklius was a simple soldier in a hostile foreign land, homesick for the cool breezes of the Imperial colony of Ithaca.
With each blistering step
,
Telklius regretted the day he met that pushy Legion recruiter, the Centurion Maximus Bullshitticus.
See the world, fun, travel, and adventure
, Bullshitticus had promised.

Telkius
was seeing the armpits of the world alright, for the duration.
It seemed Rome was always at war with somebody.
All
Telkius
wanted to do was to go home and live in peace, sitting on his porch
rocker watching naked girls squish grapes all day with their big feet.
Telkius
so missed the grape
-
squishing season, and big feet.

Today
Telkius
and his cohorts were searching houses looking for some religious malcontent.
A snitch placed the religious nut real close.
Malcontents were not tolerated by the Empire, and his execution would be slow and painful.
Ha!
Talk about the sheep calling the goat smelly
, groused
Telkius
, stopping to pick a rock from his sandal.
How could anyone be content in this godforsaken place of stifling heat
and scorpions?

The snitch got new information, pointing out a hovel on the edge of town.
Telkius
and the legionnaires burst in, brutally seizing the criminal.
Oddly, the man remained composed, yet defiant.

“
Soldier, you lay hands upon the Son of God.
I curse you.
For all eternity you shall be nothing but a soldier, never knowing death.
Your family and lovers will wither away, but you shall remain, cursed to wander alone.
”

“
Jesus,
”
replied
Telkius
, letting go.
Thunder crackled outside.