Doppel Doppel Gang Gang
“Okay, we’re filming. Ready everyone? From the top: hand, hand, shoulder, shoulder, body pop left and-a body-pop right and—Vinny? Where the hell have you been?!”
“BEEN WHERE THE HELL”
“The fuck? Why’re you yelling like that?”
“…Chelle, I don’t think that’s Vinny…”
“Janine’s right, that ain’t Vinny! Hey bro, did something happen to you?”
“HAPPEN TO SOMETHING”
“Whatever, he’s just being a dick. Prolly out too late drinking in that abandoned mine last night. Get into your place, idiot! Behind me, right of Janine.”
“ABANDONED JANINE MINE”
“Chelle, look at his face…Vinny? Vinny, are you ok?”
“He’s fine, Janine! Stop being such a little bitch about it.”
“No, but seriously Chelle will you look at his fa—ew. EW! Vinny, what the hell! What’s that on your clothes?!”
“HELL MADE LITTLE BITCH LAST NIGHT”
“Chelle, I don’t think he’s okay.”
“Yeah seriously, I think we should call the emergency services or something.”
“Really, Rob? You as well? Can we just get this done? It’s gonna take so long to edit…aaand two and three and—"
“Oh my god! Oh my god, stop touching me, get the fuck—my fingers! My fingers are stuck to his, what the hell?”
“HAND HAND SHOULDER SHOULDER HELL HELL”
[screaming]
“This isn’t Vinny! Fuck! Fuck! What are you?!”
“YOU YOU YOU YOU”
“That’s it, I’m calling the cops—"
“Janine get away from him—"
“I can’t! I can’t! I’m stuck oh my god oh my god, Rob please help me please, please—"
“Not this way Janine, Jesus! Don’t touch me! Don’t!”
“TOUCH ME PLEASE TOUCH ME PLEASE TOUCH ME PLEASE”
“Get the fuck off me! Chelle, Chelle!”
“…”
“CHELLE!!”
“I-I-I can’t, I can’t, I can’t breathe I—"
“Pick up your cell phone!”
“My hands don’t…I can’t…”
“BREATHE FREAK GOD HANDS”
“Chelle run! We’re stuck to him!”
[Inconsolable sobbing]
“Oh god…”
“FROM THE TOP GOD HAND HAND SHOULDER SHOULDER”
“Fuck, no! No get off me! Stop grabbing me!”
“I’m sorry, Chelle! I’m so sorry please get us out of here please—"
“PLEASE OUT OF HERE OUT OUT”
“I can’t control my feet…”
“Janine, look at your legs…”
“Which legs? Which legs?! I don’t know which are mine anymore?! Oh my God, I can’t see them, oh my God oh my God—”
“Chelle! Chelle wake up!”
“Can’t…”
“Rob, can you move your arms?”
“Which ones, which ones!? Which fucking ones!”
“…get to the door…”
“MOVE GOD OUT FUCK”
“Police…429 Ender’s Way…the dance studio…”
“Chelle, thank God!”
“GOD OUT”
“Listen to me. Listen to me. If we move together we can control this. We can direct the—"
“The what, Rob! He’s stuck to me, I’m stuck to you, and we’re all stuck to Chelle! Vinny, Vinny…No!!”
“JANINE!!!”
[unintelligible suctioning sounds]
[Chelle faints]
[Rob vomits]
“Ugh…no…no…Janine…”
“IT CALLS ITSELF JANINE, IT CALLS ITSELF JANI-WITH-THE-RIZZ STUCK TO YOU STUCK TO ME STUCK TO GOD”
“What do you want! What the fuck do you want!?”
“HAND HAND SHOULDER SHOULDER”
“No—"
“Fight it, Rob!!”
“I can’t!!!!”
“…SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER”
“Ahhh!”
“SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER…”
“Rob? Rob!!”
“LITTLE BITCH BRO OUT THE DOOR STUDIO OUT GOD OUT MINE MINE MINE”
“Stop dragging me…please… “
[sobbing]
“No…”
[Gurgling, suctioning noises. Slapping flesh. Stilled flesh, wet]
“FROM THE TOP FILM THIS BODY POP GOD HEAD”
[radio static]
“Dispatcher, we have a situation here at the dance studio at 429 Ender’s Way, just off the interstate.”
“Go ahead.”
“We have what appears to be three…er, no four teenagers wearing some sort of costume. Blood on them. Unsure from where.”
“Received. Proceed with caution.”
“Excuse me sir…er, ma’am, are you alright? We received a call from this address.”
“SIR MA’AM BLOOD ALRIGHT SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER”
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stay back—”
“BACK BACK SHOULDER SHOULDER”
“Ma’am! Ma’am, stay right there!”
“SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER”
[gunshots]
[unintelligible screaming]
[Gurgling, suctioning noises. Slapping flesh. Stilled flesh, wet]
[radio static]
“Officer? Officer, are you there?”
[inarticulate moaning]
“…Jesus. Receiving footage from eye in the sky. I’m going to need back up. Contact the National Guard. We have a situation.”
[Roaring of vehicles, screaming, slapping sloppy footfalls. Tremors. Something large. Something growing.]
“Ready the rocket launchers. Aim for the head in the middle. On my mark—FIRE!”
“FIRE GOD GET ME TO THE GAME RIDE THE CONCRETE PATH BEWHEELED ON MY BOARD, LET ME LIKE! LET ME BE LIKED! VIBES VIBES VIBES ALL THE WAY DOWN. THE VIBE IS ON FIRE. LET ME DANCE. LET ME FILM MY DANCE. FROM THE TOP. HANDS HANDS SHOULDER SHOULDER BODY BODY POP POP POP POP”
“Oh my god it’s absorbing them—"
“ROCKET MARK GODHEAD LET ME LIVE EVERY LIFE EVERY DAY”
[screaming]
[explosions, one after the other. So many explosions. Then silence. Then rhythmic, wet steps, once again]
“NOT THIS NOT ME CONSUMING METAL FIRE BULKHEAD BLAZE THE HEAT IS SENDING ME LITERALLY LI-TE-RA-LEE LIDDERLY POP POP POP FROM THE TOP: HANDS, HANDS, SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER SHOULDER…”
[More explosions, the roar of vehicle engines, airborne, land-based, the whistle of missiles, wet impacts of flesh, roaring, singing, screaming, the sound of buildings trodden to debris, more explosions, footfalls like small earthquakes, the deep, guttural roar of something vast, so vast it reaches the troposphere, its exhalations like thunder, the drawn-out vocalizations of its singing soundwave bombardments against the land, and then the land is gone, enfleshed, an entire continent, Alaska to Mexico City, breaking itself free from geographical moorings, dancing across the planet entire, shifting one coastal shelf and the other in a monumental shimmy of the closest thing it has to shoulders, rippling the peninsulas at its extremities in a cataclysmic iteration of jazz hands]
© 2025 Phoenix Alexander
Phoenix Alexander (he/him) is a queer, Greek-Cypriot author and curator of SF/F and horror. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Vector: the Journal of the British Science Fiction Association, and has published over 30 short stories and articles in venues such as F&SF, Escape Pod, Science Fiction Studies, and The Deadlands. In his day job, he is the curator of the Eaton Collection of Science Fiction and Fantasy at the University of California, Riverside, where he stewards one of the world’s largest cataloged collections of science fiction, fantasy, and other genre materials.