Trending Up #3
Eddie’s tentacle retracts, momentarily releasing its grip on Marlo and sending her tumbling to the gondola’s slowly rotating floor. He immediately snaps his barbed pad in our direction, but I’ve already grabbed Marlo by the shirt and tugged her away.
Plenty of horrific things have just occurred, but the one that imprints itself on my brain is just how unfazed Eddie seems after that point-blank shotgun blast. He pulls his limb away out of annoyance rather than pain.
I move Marlo into the absolute center of the tramcar, my head on a swivel as I hunt for any sign of Eddie’s next approach. From here, his lashing appendages aren’t quite long enough to reach us without him climbing down onto the glass.
Unfortunately, there’s also a larger opening to consider—the shattered window now treating us to even more night air—but Eddie won’t come through there.
The direct approach is too obvious, especially when I have two shells left.
We seem to think the same way—like father, like daughter—and if that’s the case, he probably realizes what I’ve just realized.
A direct hit against Eddie’s abdomen might not wound him, but the propulsion could send him plummeting into the forest below.
The clackity hammering of spiked legs on metal rings out as Eddie scampers across the roof, skittering back and forth.
I struggle to follow his position. With all of this movement, along with the blaring chorus of “A Star Like Me,” it’s hard to tell where he’s at, and as we cross the second tower and receive a new kick of inertia, any attempt at tracking him only becomes more difficult.
A sudden whap against the opposite side of the car draws my attention, and I flinch as a cloud of spangled glass tumbles inward and scatters across the floor.
I’m not sure what exactly caused this break, but my question is answered as Eddie’s tentacle whips over the edge to bust out a third window, then a fourth.
A rattling chortle erupts from somewhere above us, the second time I’ve heard this bizarre, otherworldly laughter. “Hell of a finale, sport!” Eddie calls out over the music. “I can’t say you didn’t entertain me.”
The shotgun is pressed tight against my shoulder, swiveling from window to window as I hunt for any sign of movement. To send Eddie flying, I need to hit him right as he’s crawling over the edge.
Whap!
Another plume of glass erupts into the car behind us, causing me to spin abruptly and nearly pull the shotgun trigger. Somehow, I manage to hold back, and with no sign of Eddie’s crawling body it appears I’ve chosen wisely.
I notice now that we’re coming up on the big, bombastic ending of “A Star Like Me.” It’s a long song, particularly because what starts as a tight pop arrangement gradually evolves into the track’s famously grand ending, and it takes a while to get there.
The whole composition has broken down one last time, stripping everything away so that it’s just Eddie Michaels and his piano.
From here, the track will swell, growing with even more spectacle than the intro and taking twice as long.
Once this part reaches its absolute crescendo there will be a sudden pause, like the hesitation at the top of a roller coaster, and then the whole thing will erupt in a wildly dramatic return.
And if there’s one thing Eddie can’t help, it’s being dramatic.
In any other situation, I’d keep my eyes peeled for something impulsive, the random emergence of Eddie’s head over the roof. That would give me two variables to watch out for—time and space—but I’m confident I can lock down one of those.
I know exactly when Eddie’s gonna make his move.
The song’s ending builds and builds as we pass tower three, cold wind blowing through the gondola. The trees are thicker now, and the rocky crags are covered with a blanket of shimmering snow.
The piano and drums start blooming with a staccato pulse I’ve heard a million times before, every strike just a little bit louder than the last. Up until this point, I would’ve argued these ten or fifteen seconds are the greatest in rock ’n’ roll history, debated the transcendent power of this song until I was blue in the face, but as I stand here with Marlo wrapped around my legs and my gaze fixed tight along the barrel of a shotgun, I realize the track has somehow changed.
It’s not that I’m trying to hate it; it just doesn’t feel right anymore. The tones are a lot more brittle than I remember, and Eddie’s moaning attempts to vamp up the energy are outrageously melodramatic.
Never meet your heroes, I guess.
My heart is slamming to the beat of the music, louder and louder as the drums reach their inevitable crescendo.
Every instrument is pounding in unison, played with so much fervor that it feels as though every piano key will crack and every string will break and every drumhead will split down the middle if it goes on even a second longer.
And just when it all feels like the whole song is about to collapse in on itself, the pause arrives.
“But baby, I’m a—” Eddie belts. The second his recorded voice says the word “star,” his massive insect frame comes barreling over the roof’s edge to my right. His six pointy legs stab through the metal as he moves to skitter across the ceiling, tentacles lashing, but I’m ready for him.
I pull the trigger, blasting the giant earwig with a face full of buckshot that sends his body curling back into the air, half his form holding tight while the rest of his oblong body whips out over the side.
Eddie slips a bit, legs disconnecting as he struggles to regain control and, for a split second, I think he’s about to take the plunge.
I swivel my weapon, ready to use my final shell and send him tumbling to the boulders below, but before I get the chance Eddie’s tentacles reach out and snag the gondola roof, pulling him back over the edge and out of my sight line.
“Fuck!” I erupt.
“Uh-oh!” says Eddie, his voice rattling down from above. “It looks like someone hit you pretty hard, sport. Knocked a screw loose.”
I have no idea where he’s going with this. My focus is still trained on the lip of the gondola.
“I think they gave you a bloody nose.” Eddie chuckles.
Again, his words are confusing, but I can’t help myself.
I slowly reach up with one hand, wiping my upper lip to discover there is, in fact, fresh crimson blood running down my face.
This injury probably happened during my fight with Kenny the security guard, likely when he struck me with the shotgun.
That fucker hit hard. Hard enough to knock the wind out of me, or knock a tooth loose.
Or knock the wax from my–
Before I can finish this thought, Eddie rattles out a three-word command.
“Stop everything, Poppy.”
I freeze in place.