Havok Publishing

The Alloy

By Rachel Dib

Greg glanced at the clock: a quarter to nine. He could close early. After all, he doubted anyone would saunter in fifteen minutes to closing.

But it’s the principle of the thing. The sign says open ‘til nine. Chin in hand, he flipped a page in his magazine.

The bell above the door jingled. Greg lifted his head, then jerked up straight as a giant monkey entered the shop. His hand flew to the panic button beneath the counter, but he paused as the figure lifted his mask, revealing a human face.

Not a monkey. Greg calmed slightly. The man dressed as a monkey clutched something covered in a black trash bag. In Greg’s experience, nothing good ever came of items in trash bags.

The man grinned. When Greg didn’t return the gesture, the man’s smile faltered. “I, uh, found this on the beach. I’d like to know what it’s worth.”

Greg narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like the word found, especially coming from the monkey man’s mouth. Still, he waited as the man slipped the bag’s contents out onto the countertop.

As soon as he saw the thin, silver sheet of metal glittering in the dim light, Greg shuddered. “You put that back right now!”

The man jumped, eyes wide. “What—”

“How did you even get it? Wait. I don’t want to know. I mean you’re dressed as a monkey. It’s self-explanatory. Though I’m surprised the disguise worked.” Greg shook his head. “Either way, put it back!”

The man stared, mouth agape, then crossed his arms. “Don’t know what your problem is, mister, but if you won’t buy it, I’m sure someone else around here will.”

“No, they won’t!” Greg slammed a hand down on the metal sheet then quickly jerked it back. “Not a fool in this town will buy that off you. Everyone knows what it is, and they’ll all tell you to put it back. Immediately!”

“Another town then.” The man grunted, slipping the silver sheet back in the bag.

As the man turned around, Greg pressed a button beneath the counter. A steel grate fell from the ceiling, blocking the door.

“What? You can’t lock me in here. That’s kidnapping!”

“It’s detainment,” Greg corrected. “You’re not going anywhere until you agree to put that sandmiliam alloy back.”

“Alloy?” the man muttered. “Not silver?”

“Not silver.” Greg scowled. “There’s not a person on the planet who knows what that is besides this town’s residents and the scientist we commissioned to create it. It’s worthless to you.”

The man clutched the bag tighter. “Not completely worthless. It means something to the town.” The man smirked. “Maybe I’ll ransom it.”

Greg lifted a brow. “Sir, you’re locked in a pawn shop. You don’t have the power to do anything.”

“Right.” The man sucked his teeth. “Well, there’s no way I’m putting it back. I barely escaped the beach as it was.” Paling, the man’s gaze developed a faraway expression. “I can’t go back.”

“So, you were brave enough to steal the sandmiliam but you’re too cowardly to return it?”

“The potential payday was worth it.” The man flung the bag on the countertop and stepped away. “If you want this put back so badly, you do it.”

Greg stared at the sandmiliam peeking out from its plastic covering. Narrowing his eyes, he reached below the counter and pressed a second button. “I’d hoped to appeal to your sense of morality, but—”

A loud rapping sounded at the door. “Mr. Harrison! Are you okay?”

“Whoa, you called the cops?”

Greg released the grate, and the police officers rushed inside. Seeing the man dressed as a monkey, they halted, confusion clouding their features. When Greg presented the sandmiliam, their faces darkened.

“Sir, you’re going to put that back.”

The man raised his hands. “Hey, you’re the authorities. You put it back.”

One officer pressed the plastic bag into the thief’s hands while the other swung him toward the door.

“I’m afraid that’s above our paygrade.”

Greg shook his head as the three men left the shop. “I should’ve closed early.”


Perkins shivered uncontrollably as the police led him toward the beach. He cringed at the memory of what awaited him there. Monkeys. Zombie monkeys. Or at least that’s what the tourist brochure had claimed. He wasn’t sure if they were actual zombies. Besides their ghostly, howling faces, they’d looked normal. They had tried to bite him, though, which was zombie-like.

“So, the suit worked?” Officer Morris asked.

“Somewhat,” Perkins grumbled.

“Hopefully it works again.” The officer nodded at the bag. “That’s the only thing keeping the monkeys on the beach. Without the sandmiliam, they wreak havoc on the town. They’re attracted to the shimmery silver. No idea why.”

They halted on the dunes overlooking the beach. “Off you go.”

“Took two of us last time,” Perkins whined.

“Where’s your partner?” Officer Morris asked.

“Monkeys got him.”

The officers shared a look.

Sighing, Perkins trudged toward the beach.

It was eerily quiet as he plodded across the sand. Where are the monkeys?

A hunched figure sat close to where Perkins had pried up the sandmiliam. He hesitated, but then realized it was his partner. Tully sat on the shoreline, staring out at the tourist boat the two had arrived on.

Perkins rushed to his side. “You’re alive!”

Tully glanced up. He had a couple cuts and his eyes looked haunted. “The monkeys attacked the ship.” He swallowed. “I didn’t know they could swim.”

Perkins chewed his lip. “Still there?”

Tully nodded. “How will we get home?”

“We’ll hitchhike to the next town and go from there.” Perkins dropped the sandmiliam on the sand. It made a slurping noise as if gluing itself to the beach. “Let’s go. This silver thing is a monkey homing beacon. I want to be gone before—”

Tully suddenly popped up and bolted up the beach.

“What the…” Perkins turned to see a dozen heads bobbing in the water behind him. “Crap.”

[ratings]

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Dib is a stay-at-home mom of three small children. After marrying a soldier, she left her home state of South Carolina to live in random places across the United States. Her works of short fiction have been published by On the Premises Magazine, Havok Publishing, and Ye Olde Dragon Books. She has also had short stories published by Toasted Cheese Literary Journal under the name R.J. Snowberger.


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