Kings of the Night

by Mark Z. Kammell

  Chapter 12.

  “So what the fuck’s up with you” Mr. Y asks, eventually, as we drive slowly through the night.

  I put the bottle down on the table next to the armchair that I’m sitting on in this amazing car. Definitely one for my list. It’s so smooth it feels like we’re not even moving and I watch the bottle with fascination as it stays there, rock steady, in the moving car.

  “It’s like I told you” I say, slowly, “I had this thing at work, it’s like I’ve got amnesia or something. I mean…” I pause, “I don’t even know your real name. What is your real name? I’m getting really tired of calling you Mr. Yellow all the time.”

  He turns and studies my face. “You’re serious aren’t you. Jesus. Well why the hell did you come along, if you didn’t even remember what for?”

  I shrug. “Sounded like fun” I say.

  He laughs. “Yeah, fun. Definitely was that. Christ my chest hurts. My name, Mark, is Jason. Jason Friedman. We’ve been friends for about five years.”

  “Oh good.” I smile. “Hello Jason. You want a drink?”

  He glances at the half full bottle of JD. “Don’t be an idiot. The last thing we can afford is for me to get pulled over. So… you don’t even remember anything about this?”

  There’s a shuffle in the back and a bang against the screen that shields us from it. We both glance round and ignore it.

  “Well… erm, I’m kind of gathering…”

  “So…” he says, “you probably are. We’re part of this… group… this society… to, well, to make things…”

  There’s a loud crash from the back and Jason looks round, annoyed. “Hang on”. He touches a button on the centre console and a little screen appears in front of us, showing a picture of the back of the car, with Gary’s face peering into it. He looks – well, angry.

  “Cool” I say.

  “What do you want?” Jason asks.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To join your friends. I thought that’s what you wanted.” What a great line. Wish I had thought of that.

  “You can’t do this!” shouts Gary.

  “Let’s not go down that road again” sighs Jason. “We can do this, in fact, oh look, we are. It’s no more than you deserve.”

  “And what are you going to do with us?”

  “You’ll see… when you meet The General”

  “The General?” I ask.

  “Shush” says Jason

  “Oh Jesus” says Gary. “The General. Great. I bet you’re a secret society, aren’t you. I bet you even have a secret society name, don’t you. I bet you even have robes and do symbols and secret codes.”

  “Shut up” shouts Jason.

  “Do we? What’s our name?” I ask.

  “Shut the fuck up” says Jason.

  “No, tell him” says Gary, “why not. If it’s a great name why are you being so aggressive? Come on, tell him, tell both of us, I’d like to know. I mean, you’ve kidnapped me, at least I deserve to know who by, don’t I?”

  “The man has a point” I say

  “All right!” shouts Jason, slapping the wheel with both hands. The vehicle wobbles, ever so slightly, I glance nervously at my bottle. “All right. We’re the Order of the Holy Crusade of the Light. Satisfied?”

  “Wow” I say, “cool name. The OHCL”

  “Hmmm…” says Gary, “a bit Knights Templarish don’t you think? A bit Da Vinci Code? Couldn’t think of anything much more original?”

  “Look… it’s a good name, give me a break.”

  “And how does The General fit in? I mean, that’s a military rank isn’t it. If you’re a Holy Order, surely you should have a high priest or something shouldn’t you?”

  I stroke my chin. “Yeah, he’s right Jason, it…”

  “Look!” shouts Jason and this time our vehicle wobbles more and I grab my JD just before disaster falls, and gratefully take a drink. “Look! It’s just a name. It’s not the point. The important thing is what we do isn’t it. The important thing is that WE are PREPARED to TAKE ACTION. We are not going to let our society be dragged down by people like you” he snarls, jabbing a finger at the screen.

  “Yeah, you say that” muses Gary. I can’t help feeling he’s relaxing into his role now. It’s quite impressive, him being tied up and bound and on his way to somewhere horrible I expect, he’s just riding through it. That is true star quality. I will ask him for some tips I think. “You say that, but really? I mean, surely you’re missing the point? You know, if you really wanted to make a difference why not go after some people who really are horrible, like, I don’t know, the Tory Party or something. Or I don’t know the head of big business or people who exploit workers in the third world, or anything? But us, seriously? A pop band? I mean…” and he holds his hands out flat, as much as he can, given that they’re tied together and his wrists are starting to bleed.

  “It’s people like you that don’t get it! Politicians don’t make any difference, never have done. And let’s face it we need people to be exploited so we can go on living the way we do. Why would I go after them? But you” (jabbing at the screen again, this time he hits it and there’s a tiny blemish left there – which is a shame) he shouts, “you exploit our kids! You take away our heritage! You are the real evil here! And don’t try to deny it”

  And with that he flips a switch and Gary disappears into a point of light at the centre of the screen. “Enough of that he says. Oh look, we’re here.”

  Our vehicle glides to a halt in front of what looks like an old warehouse. It’s kind of hard to tell in the night; Jason and I glance at each other and for some reason I feel nervous. We both climb out and walk over to it.

  Jason puts his hand on my shoulder, “just be cool, okay, let me do the talking. Don’t want anyone thinking you’ve lost your head or something, cos you might just lose it.” He laughs nervously and I copy him.

  He nudges me, “you best guard the man in the van”, leaving me standing in the dark night, as he walks towards the far end of the building. The warehouse is big, old and looks abandoned, it’s made of bricks that are starting to crumble, and has windows every few feet that are boarded up. Jason stops about 50 feet away from us, and tentatively reaches forward to what looks like a broken door. He doesn’t knock or anything like that, just touches his hand on the door and waits. I wrap my arms around myself, the night has just become cold. There’s no noise at all from the vehicle and I find myself wondering if Gary’s all right. Maybe just a quick look?

  Before I can do anything there’s a noise and I look to see an entrance behind the wooden door, Jason leaning into it and I think shaking someone’s hand. Then he’s gone and the wood’s back there, just like it was before.

  I knock on the back of the truck. “Gary, are you all right?” No reply. God. What if he’s thirsty? What if he’s hungry? Maybe I should look after him. I knock again. “Gary?” Still nothing. Well, what harm can a quick look do? I reach for the touch panel at the bottom of the truck, and the rear door slides open, lighting up the cavernous interior. Looks really comfortable, I think, maybe I should just have a quick lie down on one of those sofas, maybe me and Gary can have a quick chat about things, talk about music, maybe we can clear up some of these issues. Hang on, where is Gary?

  “Gary?” my voice echoes into the truck. Well he can’t just have disappeared. And now I notice one of the sofas, something strange about it, it seems to be moving, in fact it’s coming straight at me. I jump out of the way just in time as it flies out of the truck and onto the dirt road, turning itself over and crashing. That will destroy the leather. There’s a kind of swoosh and I jump back just as Gary, still tied up, launches himself at me, landing on me and though he can’t do much I can see what he’s about to do as he crashes his head towards mine and then

  “And then nothing” growls a deep voice as Gary is suddenly pulled backwards, pulled upwards, screaming and shouting and I dust myself down and pick myself up
and see Jason standing with a big man, dressed in a strange green suit, with a broad face and a pissed off expression and a cigar in his mouth and I’m thinking this must be The General.

  “What sort of idiot are you?” he growls, and l wonder whether he’s talking to Gary but it’s kind of obvious that he’s talking to me and so I lower my head, and then raise it again, then lower it and then I kind of say “Erm, sorry, I was just…”

  “It’s OK, General, he’s under control” a voice says and a thin, hard man walks over to The General’s side. He’s dressed completely in black, has dark skin, jet black hair and a mean looking face and he’s holding Gary in one hand, limp like a rag doll.

  “Good work, Stevens” says The General, as Stevens carries Gary away.

  “You’re sure he’s all right” The General asks Jason, nodding at me. Jason has his eyes closed. “Yes, yes, I am, of course. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  The General chews and spits some cigar at my feet and glances at me. He steps forward until he’s inches away from me and I find myself shrinking back. “You” he spits, and jabs his finger into my chest, “you better not screw up again.” And then he’s gone, walking slowly and purposefully back to the warehouse.

  Jason looks at me. “You fucking idiot.”

  “Err, sorry” I give him a sheepish grin, and he shakes his head wearily. “Good job we’re best mates. Come on, let’s go and drink all night.”