Manos: Talons of Fate

By Stephen D. Sullivan

A shocking new chiller from the Winner of the 2016 Scribe Award!

What starts as a much-needed vacation for Mike, Margaret, daughter Debbie, and their dog, Pepe, escalates into a nightmare of fear and madness. Trapped by the wicked Master, his demonic brides, and the half-human Torgo, the family must endure the horrors of the night-dark desert to escape the vile coven. Once the terror starts, it never lets up in this new, deadly serious novel based on the classic cult film.

“In this version of Manos, the characters are revealed to be complex, believable people with reasons (no matter how misguided) for their fateful choices. The dark and twisted methods of the Manos cult are described in gruesome detail. This is a novel that lovers of horror will truly enjoy.” —Jackey Neyman Jones (Debbie from Manos) from her Foreword.

Stephen D. Sullivan is the author of more than fifty books and has worked on countless comics and games. His past projects include Iron Man, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Dungeons & Dragons, and Star Wars. Steve’s previous, comedic adaptation of this film, Manos: The Hands of Fate, won the prestigious Scribe Award for Best Adapted Novel, 2016.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen D. Sullivan
• Release date: Nov 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370487448

Stephen D. Sullivan

Stephen D. Sullivan has written more than 50 books across many genres: fantasy, SF, horror, detective, movie adaptations, and more. Readers the world over enjoy his fast-moving prose style and hard-hitting action sequences. He has won numerous awards for his work, including the 2016 Scribe Award for his horror-comedy novel, Manos: The Hands of Fate.Not sure where to start? Try these:NEW! Manos: Talons of FateBEST SELLER: Manos: The Hands of Fate (2016 Scribe Award Winner)HORROR & MONSTERS: Daikaiju AttackFANTASY: Tournament of Death novelsSCIENCE FICTION: Heart of Steam & RustADULT: Elf Erotica (Elf Princess on Mars)OVERVIEW: Martian Knights & Other TalesThere are plenty of others to choose from, too. (Including some books from other authors published by Steve's Company, Walkabout Publishing.)Browse! Buy! Enjoy!

Book preview

CONTENTS

Foreword

Author’s Introduction

Prologue

1. Living Day to Day

2. A Family Vacation

3. Drudgery & Loathing at the Sunset Grocery

4. Trouble on the Road

5. Crossroads

6. Strange Lodging

7. Torgo

8. First Waking

9. A Howl in the Night

10. Into the Darkness

11. Weird Company

12. Moonlight Drive

13. Debbie in the Desert

14. A Wife’s Un-Life

15. Not Alone

16. The Tomb

17. Torgo’s Desires

18. The First Wife Stirs

19. The Master Awakes

20. Robin’s Resurrection

21. Deadly Rivals

22. A Lovely Night for Lust

23. Torgo & the Master

24. Margaret’s Fears

25. Chilly Evening winds

26. A Tasty Snack

27. The Dance of the Demon-Wives

28. Out of the Darkness

29. The Scourging of Torgo

30. Dark Climax

31. Trials in the Desert

32. Last Chance

33. Night Patrol

34. Final Refuge

35. Vacation Plans

Epilogue

Afterword

Music to Read By

The Cast

About the Author

Sample of Manos: The Hands of Fate

Sample of Dr. Cushing’s Chamber of Horrors

Sample of Frost Harrow #1 – Scream Lover

FOREWORD

by Jackey Neyman Jones

(Debbie from Manos)

Many things can be said about Manos: The Hands of Fate...

In regards to the film itself, nearly all agree that it’s one of the worst films ever, and has been made famous simply by being so bad. It has been referred to as the barometer by which all bad film is rated. It’s been described as a train wreck. It is just so horrible that you can’t look away. It is a film that should have stayed buried after a short, weak attempt at distribution, just like a multitude of its amateur kind.

But fate had another plan when, in January 1993, twenty seven years after the film’s disastrous premiere, Mystery Theater 3000 unearthed and aired Manos on the Comedy Central channel. Because of that moment, this film and its legends—a magical blend of ambition and compost mixed by a manure salesman in El Paso Texas in 1966—live on 50 years later. What began with a hastily scrawled title card and a painfully long driving scene has evolved over the years into a cult film with a loyal and fervent fan following.

I, for one, celebrate Manos’ wacky fame and all that comes with it—most notably, the opportunity to engage and rub shoulders with so many talented folk and their Manos-inspired projects: everything from coloring books and video games to a parody puppet show.

Steve Sullivan is one such Manos fan. For some reason that only he can explain, Steve, a skilled storyteller, has taken the basic Manos storyline and expanded it not just once but twice—first into a snarky comedy novel and now into a tale of pure horror. If anyone ever wants to remake the film, this is the base from which their script should start.

In this version of Manos, the characters are revealed to be complex, believable people with reasons (no matter how misguided) for their fateful choices. The dark and twisted methods of the Manos cult are described in gruesome detail. This is a novel that lovers of horror will truly enjoy.

Thank you, Steve, for taking us on this journey and introducing us to the deeper world of Manos. The Master Approves!

—Jackey Neyman Jones

October, 2016

AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION

This book is based on what many consider the Worst Film of All Time, the Cult Classic: Manos: The Hands of Fate—a movie so bad that it’s laughably good.

I decided it would be fun to do a novelization playing up the (unintentional) comedy elements of that well-loved camp film.

What you hold in your hands is not that adaptation.

If you want to read the funny version of this story, find Manos: The Hands of Fate (Novel of the Camp Horror Comedy), also by me. That book recently won the Scribe Award for Best Novel Adaptation, 2016, from the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers. So, yes, the Worst Film of All Time is now an award-winning novel.

At the same time I was doing that book, I also decided it would be an interesting challenge to try to make this notoriously bad movie into a good horror story.

So, this is the novel where I try to make Manos genuinely scary.

Unlike the comedy version or the original public domain film, this is not a story for children.

This one is deadly serious.

Did the transition from unintentional comedy to classic horror work?

You be the judge.

Enjoy!

—Steve Sullivan

October, 2016

"That is not dead which can eternal lie,

And with strange aeons even death may die."

— Howard Philips Lovecraft, The Nameless City

WEST TEXAS, 1966

PROLOGUE

Robin’s screams rolled out of the tomb, splitting the silence of the West Texas night, but there was no sane person within earshot to hear.

Pale, ghostly forms danced around the young woman as she stood tied to a stone pillar in this dark and terrible place. The dancers—five women and one man—looked human, but Robin knew that they were not. They were actually deranged maniacs—monsters!

How else to explain what they’d done to her boyfriend? Robin tried not to look at the awful scene, but found her eyes drawn inexorably to the nearby stone altar.

Jay lay there, unmoving, his body slit from collarbone to groin, his blood and guts splayed across the slab and dripping onto the sandy earth at its base.

Tears streamed down Robin’s face, and she gagged on her own bile. She’d have vomited if she could, but nothing remained in her stomach. It had all come up when they’d murdered Jay.

They’d slaughtered him—as if he were nothing more than an animal!

The killing wasn’t the worst of it, though…

These demons-in-human-form had ripped open Robin’s boyfriend and gorged themselves on his steaming flesh!

And through it all, Jay had stared at her, howling in pain and fear. They’d eaten him while he was still alive!

It had taken him the better part of an hour to finally die.

Robin, tied to the pillar from the start of the sacrifice, had screamed all the while—screamed until she had no voice left. At first, she’d begged the cultists to let Jay live, but when she’d realized that these fiends weren’t about to allow that to happen, then—God help her!—she’d pleaded with them to kill her boyfriend quickly, to end his suffering.

They hadn’t.

These six creatures had enjoyed every unbearable minute of Jay’s dying.

Then, once he’d breathed his last, they’d wiped their lips with the backs of their pale arms and thrown what was left of her boyfriend to their huge black dog.

The hound feasted even now, while the man and the five women fornicated on the floor of this dusty crypt.

Robin’s tormentors reveled in the sex… and blood… and death. The weird brazier in the center of the chamber cast flickering shadows across their coupling bodies. The six of them seemed to change shape in the dancing firelight, becoming more animal than human—two-legged beasts with fangs and claws and blazing black eyes.

Actual demons!

Somehow, even in her despair and exhaustion, Robin found her voice again.

Oh, God! she cried, though the words came out a strangled rasp. "God help us...! Help me!"

The fiendish male—the apparent leader of this obscene cult—rose, leaving two of his companions writhing together on the floor. He padded barefoot across the dusty earth to where Robin stood tied.

Don’t worry, Little Bird, the demon-man said, running the back of his hand down the side of her face.

Robin shuddered. The cult leader’s skin was cold, but his touch left a trail of warm blood—Jay’s blood—trickling down her cheek.

Please…! she moaned, weeping.

Yes, he intoned, his voice deep and sensuous. "You please me very much."

Don’t kill me…!

The man shook his head, black eyes blazing. You shall not perish, Little Bird. We’re going to make you one of us. He smiled, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth.

P-please…!

You shall be a servant of Manos, the pale demon said. "And you shall be my bride!"

No…! Robin gasped. She struggled futilely against the sticky black ropes—like huge cobwebs—binding her to the pillar. No!

The dark man’s smile broadened.

He held out one bony white hand, and his fingernails grew into razor-sharp talons.

Then he plunged that clawed hand into Robin’s chest.

She screamed as the fiend’s cold fingers shattered her breastbone and tore through her innards.

The man ripped out her heart and tossed it, still beating, onto the burning brazier in the center of the tomb.

A blood-red haze descended over Robin’s eyes, and she felt her life slipping away.

But, somehow, she was still screaming.

How could she still scream?

How could she be alive with no heart?

Don’t worry, Little Bird, the man’s deep voice whispered. Manos is near.

And then the whole chamber shook, and the ground at the base of the pillar split open, and a monstrous crimson hand reached up and dragged Robin—broken body, screaming soul, and all—into the darkness.

CHAPTER 1 – Living Day to Day

MARGARET

Margaret awoke knowing that she had a lot to do—too much, actually. Always, it seemed, too much to do.

She had to clean herself up, make breakfast…

Get Debbie ready and take her to school…

Then make the beds, clean the house, squeeze in a bite of lunch…

Call the hospital to remind them she wouldn’t be in next week…

Do the laundry and press Mike’s work shirts (though he wouldn’t use them until they got back)…

Run to the beauty parlor, so she’d look her best during the trip…

Pick up Debbie again, get the girl changed into fresh clothes (she always came home dirty from school; such a little tomboy!)…

Then finally make dinner. The evening meal would have to be early tonight, because Mike would be coming home early, so all of them could get going. Despite that, somehow, Margaret would manage to prepare something before they left—because Mike didn’t want to spend more money than they needed to on the road.

And of course, she had to pack, too!

What a stupid way to start a vacation! Margaret thought.

It would be easier for Mike, of course. It had to be, didn’t it? All her husband had to do was go to work. It was Margaret who needed to have everything ready for him when he got home—and heaven help her if she didn’t!

Not that Mike would hit her… No, he never did that. It’s just that lately, he seemed so short tempered, as if Margaret couldn’t do anything right.

He’d even snapped at Debbie a few times—and their daughter had always been the apple of his eye! It was almost like Margaret’s husband had forgotten that their girl was only seven years old. Kids would be kids, after all, and Debbie was a pretty rambunctious child—always exploring, always getting mussed up, always bringing home a grasshopper or a garter snake or some other new pet.

Debbie didn’t know anything about Daddy having difficult days at the office, or Mommy running so hard all the time that she felt burnt to a frazzle. And of course she didn’t know about—nor would she have understood—marital… difficulties.

Oh, to be a kid again! Margaret fantasized.

To have nothing to worry about but schoolwork, and whether you had just the right shade of crayon to color the sky, and little boys teasing you because they actually liked you…

To be able to climb on the jungle gym… and get your knees scuffed playing tag… and find a long-forgotten kingdom ruled by horned toads in the back yard…

To return to the days when there was no monster that your little black poodle couldn’t defeat, to when there was no hurt that a hug from Mom or a kiss on the head from Dad couldn’t cure…!

Margaret would have given almost anything for life to be that simple again.

Instead, here she was, stuck in Lubbock in a tiny three-bedroom house at the edge of a slowly decaying neighborhood.

Lubbock…!

This vacation to El Paso would feel like a taste of paradise in comparison!

And the Valley Lodge… Well, the whole resort just seemed like a dream.

A secluded vacation getaway was just what she and her little family needed—at least, Margaret hoped it would be.

She prayed that the place would be as nice as it looked in the brochure: neatly furnished modern rooms with a bar and lounge attached and a huge outdoor swimming pool.

Margaret sighed.

She’d felt so glad when the flyer arrived in the mail, though neither she nor Mike remembered sending for it.

"Well, we must have gotten on their mailing list somehow," Mike had said.

Margaret had agreed.

And just now, that somehow felt absolutely providential.

Well, not right this moment.

Right now, she had to be the good housewife and hold the family together long enough to get them on the road.

Though, truth be told, Margaret sometimes felt like just one thing more—one tiny little setback—would shatter her to pieces.

She took a deep breath.

Get ahold of yourself, girl! she told herself. Once we get to the Valley Lodge, everything will be all right.

That was all she had to do.

Get the family to the Valley Lodge.

But first, she had to get out of bed.

Then take a quick shower…

And then make breakfast, before Mike woke up…

And then…

CHAPTER 2 – A Family Vacation

MIKE

Mike wondered if going on vacation was such a good idea, after all. Already, his wife and child were getting on his nerves, and they still had miles to go before reaching their destination. The Valley Lodge looked so relaxing, so peaceful in the brochures… but was his little family just bringing their problems along, rather than leaving them behind?

Things had been strained between him and Margaret lately. She was more than ten years his junior, but the age difference couldn’t be the only thing to blame. They never went out any more; they seldom had time alone together; they rarely had sex.

Mike knew that it was unfair to blame Debbie, their young daughter, for the state of affairs in the marriage, but he couldn’t help himself. Ever since the child had been born, things had been different between him and his wife.

Maggie was always tired now, and never as compliant as she used to be. Sometimes, she even talked back to him.

Her sass made Mike want to slap her, but he wouldn’t. What kind of example would that be to set for his child?

Mike’s father had hit him as a punishment, of course, but that was a different time—a different era. Now it was 1966, and people didn’t do that kind of thing anymore—at least, that’s what Reverend Durning preached at the church they’d been attending lately. (After Debbie was born, Margaret had insisted.)

Mike told people that corporal punishment never did me any harm. Yet, he didn’t really believe that.

Being hit made him frustrated… angry—and he didn’t like either of those things. Just the memory of the strap set his teeth on edge.

He knew those whippings were more about his old man’s anger than about anything Mike had done. Even as a kid, he could see the darkness in his Dad’s eyes, and sometimes—quite a lot lately—he felt that same rage inside himself.

Mike didn’t want to be like his Dad—God knew that he didn’t!—but it seemed like every day, the exasperation inside him kept building.

A lot of things had been eating at Mike’s nerves: his wife, his child, his boss at the insurance agency…

Yeah, Mike’s shortening temper was a good reason to take a vacation, to get away from it all.

So why are you bringing two of the major sources of your irritation with you?

The notion emerged from his subconscious before he could tamp it down. It was the kind of thought that made him feel trapped: trapped by a life he hadn’t entirely chosen; trapped in the workaday world, like his father had been. It was a sensation all too familiar to Mike these days.

He gripped the wheel of his 1966 Ford Galaxie 500 and concentrated on the road ahead. He’d put down the convertible’s top earlier, and the air smelled fresh and clean, with just a hint of sage; the hot summer wind tugged sensually at his hair. For a moment, he almost felt like he was sixteen again…

Sixteen and cruising down the highway with his girl at his side…

A burst of youthful optimism welled in Mike’s breast.

He would make this work! Everything was going to turn out just the way he wanted—his job, his home life... everything. Especially this vacation!

The family’s visit to the Valley Lodge would be just the break that Mike needed from his everyday life.

It’d be just what they all needed.

Maggie, seated to his right and wearing a white scarf to protect her new hairdo, twisted around so that she could peer into the Galaxie’s back seat. We’re almost there, honey, she told Debbie. Just a little while longer and our vacation starts.

Mike glanced in the rearview mirror. The evening breeze was tugging at Debbie’s short blond hair, too, but she didn’t seem to be enjoying it like he was.

I’m getting cold, Mommy, she complained, and hungry. She embraced her dog, Pepe, and buried her small face in his wooly black coat, as if seeking refuge from the chill.

The wind ruffled Pepe’s hair as well, but the miniature poodle didn’t seem to mind. He nuzzled in closer to Debbie, enjoying the girl’s companionship.

The way that dog acts, you’d think she was his master, not me, Mike thought. Then he chided himself for being envious. Is that any way for a father to act?

It was good that his daughter and the dog were best friends. Every kid needed a dog.

Even if I never got to have one, when I was growing up!

Mike took a deep breath and stomped down the darkness that had been welling up inside him for the past few months. He forced himself to smile. It’s hard to be unhappy when you’re smiling, someone had once said.

Don’t worry, he told both his girls. We should be pretty close to the Valley Lodge now; the automobile association agent found it on one of their older maps, when I stopped by after work. It’s not on my store-bought map, but it’s there, all right. The man said it was about twelve miles from Highway Ten… and we just passed Highway Ten back there. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the way they’d come.

Maggie frowned (her usual expression, nowadays). You’re probably right, Mike, she said. "But we could have asked for more directions at the last gas station. Maybe the agent in Lubbock couldn’t tell us where it was, but I bet a local would have guided us right to the front door."

A knife twisted in Mike’s stomach, the same stab he’d been feeling at work. Was he developing an ulcer?

Why didn’t she trust him? Why did it seem like he couldn’t do anything right by her lately?

Listen, he snapped, I’ve never gotten us lost before!

Dammit! There went his temper again! He knew he shouldn’t have said it the moment the words left his mouth.

Margaret crossed her arms over her chest. Mike used to think she looked cute when she got miffed, but not recently. Eight years of marriage had soured him on a lot of his wife’s little quirks.

Mommy, I’m cold, Debbie whined from the back.

Another small twist of the knife.

It’s nothing, he told himself, just tension. Breathe it out. Just because your dad died of a heart attack before he hit fifty doesn’t mean you will, too! You don’t have to be like him—not in anything! Everything will be okay just as soon as you get to the lodge. Get a grip on yourself!

Mike sighed, trying to blow away all the built-up nerves. Unfortunately, doing right by his daughter meant the end of enjoying the breeze through his graying hair. Okay Debbie, he conceded, I’ll put the top up.

He spotted a pull-over by the side of the road and brought the Galaxie to a halt. The rest area sat atop a hill gazing down over the countryside. El Paso—more a big town than an actual city (though three times the size of Lubbock)—lay sprawled below them. Beyond it stretched a wide swath of irrigated farmland eventually giving way to West Texas desert.

Mike didn’t see any sign of the Valley Lodge—or any other resort, for that matter. Once you got past the city, aside from the farms, the whole view looked like a barren expanse: nothing as far as the eye could see. Empty.

Just like my life, Mike thought ruefully. Then he scolded himself again. Stay positive! Get the top up and then get moving again. The sooner you get it done, the sooner your vacation starts.

He reached for the door handle, to get out and start raising the car’s roof.

Margaret laid a hand on his shoulder, bringing him to a sudden stop.

But the touch was gentle, and for a moment, Mike felt a spark of their old romance kindling inside him once more.

We can make this work!

Never mind the top, Mike, Maggie said. Debbie can come up and sit between us.

Mike knew that having the child crammed between them wouldn’t be very comfortable—even in a car as big as the Galaxie—but maybe having all three of them in the front seat would bring back that family feeling he so desperately craved.

Yeah, okay. Sounds great, he agreed. Pepe, you stay in back. He put his hand out, barring the little dog’s way. The poodle had been wagging his tail, anxious to jump up front with his seven-year-old mistress.

With Margaret’s help, the girl climbed over the seat and plopped down between her parents.

Just what the doctor ordered, Mike thought. A perfect family.

They were certainly dressed the part, anyway: Mike in his white sweater, Maggie in her blue flower-print dress