New Brew

by Mark Lashway

  The whole gathering was listening in rapt attention now. Cam noticed that several of the men wore unhealthily hostile looks. They might lynch me before sitting down to their next round.

  “Ja, I did say that,” Streicher sighed, “but it seems like I am staring up from the bottom of a deep, dark pit, seeing only a distant light on the top, impossible to reach.”

  “And I felt the exact same way very recently, you know? But here I am, still unbowed.”

  “Ja. You did experience new lows, Cam, after you nearly destroyed your career through your drunken excesses. I can only imagine the humiliation you must have felt explaining why you roomed with a man who turned out to be the murderer….”

  “Alright, we don’t need to go over that!” Cam snapped, his face beet-red. “Let’s not deal with ancient history, but focus on right now.”

  “But there are no more competitions for us, Cam, no means to redeem ourselves anyway. It is over, for sure.”

  “Wow, this is unbelievable,” Cam muttered, shaking his head. “Boy, oh boy, you new breed Germans are somethin’ else, you know that? Whatever happened to the old-style Germans who went out and conquered?”

  “Well, after the last episode, Germany was devastated, overrun, occupied and partitioned for almost half a century,” Kopp observed. Cam’s head dropped. He felt ready to cry.

  “Ja, Bavaria itself was under American occupation,” Streicher added. “My grandfather returned home after being released from a British POW camp. It was bad. There was little food around, many things were destroyed, but there was one horror that never left his mind.”

  “Oh, what was that?” Cam asked, unable to resist.

  “The beers that the American occupation troops drank. Without exception, they were all just tinted water with some carbonation. Grandfather never thought much of American culture after that. He used those experiences as scary bedtime stories when my father was a lad, then my father did the same with me and my siblings.”

  We’re way off on a tangent here, Cam told himself. Hey, wait a minute….I see an opening. “That’s right, Gerhard. It’s a dark and sad part of American beer history. That’s why many people in the world count on you Germans and your brewin’ skills. It’s your specialty. OK, so you’re not allowed to dominate Europe anymore, but it’s perfectly fine for you to try to dominate the beer world,” Cam told them.

  “You’re right, Cam,” Streicher said, perking up a little. “But how do we do it?”

  “You strayed off the path which led you to all of your previous successes,” Cam explained. “That’s usually the way it happens. It was probably a loss of focus, maybe even a lack of discipline which, I might say, I find very disappointin’ in a German, you know? Yeah, times and circumstances change, but it’s likely that if you guys were to return to your earlier practices you’d find a lot of your success returnin’.”

  The group remained silent, nodding their heads. It wasn’t quite the reaction that Cam had been hoping for. Then something bounced off the outside of the tent and a voice in the distance yelled, “Looooooooser!”

  “There you go!” Cam snarled, pointing in that direction. “That’s what you’ll be facin’ at every GWIBE from now on if you go into that boo-fuckin’-hoo-I-lost-the-competition crybaby bullshit! Or are you proud Bavarians who aren’t gonna take any shit off a Belgian, who are gonna pick themselves up off the ground and be great again?! Huh?!”

  “Ja!” Streicher roared, coming to his feet as his giant frame seemed to suddenly fill the whole tent, shaking a massive fist in the air. Veins stood out on his neck and temples and his eyes appeared to contain fire within. “By God, Cam, you are right! We will suffer defeat to that Belgian swine no longer! No longer will we be kept down. We will rise again!”

  There was pandemonium in the tent as the gathering all leaped to their feet and cheered with a mighty, throaty roar. Kopp, ever alert, quickly had a round poured for everybody. Everyone gulped the drinks down with haste, which struck Cam as being improper.

  “We will immediately start working to regain our greatness!” Streicher continued. “Jan Vosloo will spend the rest of GWIBE congratulating himself, feeling smug, completely unaware that we will be rebuilding, planning our revenge! Next year we will move on him, attack, crush him and we will be very harsh and unforgiving! Ja!”

  Although for a few moments Cam had felt satisfaction, now he felt a little frightened. His effort might have succeeded too well. But it should be alright. They’ll make noise, the usual threats, then channel their energies into brewing and planning for next year….

  Everybody in the tent either slapped him on the shoulder or high-fived him as they streamed out of Little Germany, reminding him of a hive of yellow jackets that felt like the nest was threatened. Only these bees were half-lit and screaming threats as they exited.

  “I have business with Mr. Vosloo!” Kopp snarled.

  “Nein, Johann, this time he is mine,” Streicher corrected him. “It is about time that I have a turn with him! You can’t be greedy, my friend.”

  Cam was the last one to leave the tent. At first he heard distant taunts from Vosloo’s gang, then laughter as they saw the Little Germany crowd emerge. It soon changed quickly, however, to screams and curses as the pro-German faction attacked. I’ve gotta get the hell out of here quickly, so I’m not seen as being involved. Damn it all, what went wrong?

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  “We need to be quick!” Aura whispered to Glow as her partner went through Billy Bomb’s belongings. “I just hope it’s here.”

  “It has to be here somewhere,” Glow confidently replied. “We’ve been around them almost constantly. Billy hasn’t spent any of that money.”

  “Are you sure we should be doing it like this? Duke promised to pay us.”

  “Fuck Duke and his promises. Sonia, wake up!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. We were supposed to take care of a package for Duke, but he’s called it off. Now we’re supposed to wait around until he pays us ‘sometime soon’ at some meeting, off-site, tomorrow. Duh!”

  “Cherie, you’re worrying me.”

  “Good! Tell me, who won’t take delivery of their own packages, unless it’s something illegal? Hmm? Why would women like us be used as the receivers?”

  “Do you think it’s drugs?”

  “Could very well be. We weren’t supposed to know, just turn the thing over to whoever he told us to, when he told us to. Now the thing got cancelled, so why would he want to meet us somewhere else to pay us?. The whole thing has a bad vibe around it now, you know?”

  “Oh shit, you’re absolutely right,” Sonia whispered, suddenly getting it. “Cherie, don’t make such a mess. We want to get a good head start before….Aaaaagh!” A hand had suddenly grabbed her wrist. She was spun around and found herself looking up into the smiling face of Ralphie Quinn, but his smile was disturbing.

  “Before we found out you took Billy’s money?” Ralphie coldly laughed. She tried to break free, but he held on, spun her around again and held both of her arms from behind.

  Cherie tried to dart past the Four Horsemen, but Billy Bomb grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back. He roughly forced her into a chair and then tied her wrists to the chair’s arms.

  “What you’re doing is illegal!” Cherie cried.

  “So is the thievery you were about to commit,” Wally the Preacher reminded her. “Now, if I had to bet all of Billy’s money, I would bet that the two of you already have records. Maybe you’re on parole, or probation? I would also bet that you’re not gonna be quick to go running to the cops over this, right?” Cherie’s red face said it all.

  “They’re two sad examples of immoral women,” Wally lectured his fellow horsemen. “Oblivious to their sins, their lives a tapestry of lies, thieving, drugs and/or drinking, whoring….”

  “Wait just a minute! I resent that! We never whored!” Sonia objected.

  “Sorry. So anyway, they’re c
ommon sluts, ignorant of their fates, which will be spending eternity in a lake of fire.”

  “Damn it, Wally, we don’t have time for your amateur sermonizing,” Ralphie snapped. “Besides, it’s an inconvenient fact that we’re some of the guys that they….”

  “Anyway, let’s get on with interrogating them,” Eight Ball decided.

  “Interrogate? Who the fuck do you creeps think you are?” Sonia laughed. “Do you know what you are? Four pathetic losers who….”

  Wally the Preacher backhanded her. Sonia cried and sagged down, although Ralphie still held her up. She began sobbing.

  “We really don’t want to hurt you,” Eight Ball explained. “Hurting women would bother all of us, believe me on that, but the choice is yours. Easy way or hard way, you will tell us all you know, got that? You know enough about us to realize that we’re serious.”

  The women remained silent, each one wondering what the other was thinking, unsure as to whether or not the other would break.

  “You see, we know that you’re working for Duke Lando. We were suspicious of you two for a few days now, but we couldn’t nail it down until we heard you two talking just now as we listened outside the tent,” Eight Ball told them.

  “What gave us away?” Cherie asked, almost pleading. “I’ve got to know.”

  “It was very simple, really,” Billy Bomb cut in. “You two showered every day and were meticulous about shaving your legs and pits. No real hippie chicks would’ve done that.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Cherie groaned. “Smart, but I’m still not talking.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Eight Ball muttered. “After all, if your positions were reversed, do you think that Duke would stay silent to let you walk away?”

  The comment had an effect according to the women’s reactions. However, they remained silent. Eight Ball looked upward and sighed. “You’re probably thinking that if you say nothing and can get away, then maybe Duke won’t bother to come after you. But if you talk and he goes down, then he’ll send goons after you, right?” he asked.

  “Forget it, Eddie, these chicks are calculating their chances and about to make the wrong bet,” Ralphie interrupted. “Go ahead. Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

  “I have just the right thing in our communal treasure trove,” Eight Ball replied, smiling. Going over to the corner where they kept old boxes full of random junk that they hauled with them wherever they went, he quickly found what he was looking for and pulled it out with a triumphant smile. The rest of the horsemen just stared at him, uncomprehending. Sonia, quickly catching on, gaped in horror and began to wriggle but felt Ralphie’s grip on her tighten.

  Cherie, still bound to the chair, with her back to Eight Ball, wondered what was going on in the unexpected silence. Sonia’s expression, along with an inability to see what was coming, created the first stirrings of terror inside her. Then she noticed the nasty smirks of the other horsemen as they began to catch on. Tears welled up in her eyes now. She could feel Eight Ball standing in back of her. What would it be? A savage punch out of the blue to the back of her neck? A piece of rope so that he could perform some asphyxiation torture on her?

  Nothing came at first, then Cherie felt Eight Ball gently pull her hair up off the back of her shoulders. He was acting slowly, very deliberately, and that was what she feared most. The slow, cool, composed types would be the most brutal ones, she knew. She closed her eyes, determined not to break and give the nerds the information that they wanted.

  Eight Ball raised one hand and gently brushed something on her back, in that area beneath the base of the neck and between the shoulder blades.

  “Agh!” she cried, eyes opening in alarm. He gave her a longer, even lighter stroke. “Aaaaaagh! Please don’t do that!” She was beginning to thrash, but the restraints held her down.

  “Before I proceed, please gag them,” Eight Ball requested. Seeing what was coming, both women tried to get out a scream but were silenced by the alert horsemen before they could. Within seconds both of them had pieces of clothing shoved into their mouths.

  Eight Ball let go of Cherie’s hair and walked around so that she could see him. Then she saw the torture device that he held in one hand and her eyes grew even wider. Remaining silent, he got close to her again and gave her a very light stroke from the bottom of one ear and down her neck. She thrashed. “Mmmmmmph!”

  “Wow, and to think that I almost threw that feather duster out,” Billy Bomb said.

  “Yeah. We have absolutely no use for it under normal circumstances, but see how it can still be useful someday? The packrats know what they’re doing,” Wally the Preacher declared.

  “Ralphie, why don’t you make it easy on yourself and tie Sonia to a chair, too?” Eight Ball murmured. The books that he had read regarding torture had mentioned the effectiveness of taking short pauses, since the waiting around would be agonizing for the victim as they wondered when the session would start up again.

  Within a minute Sonia too was lashed down to a chair, positioned so that the two women faced each other. Eight Ball looked at both of them and then asked, “Is either one of you ready to talk? No? Cherie, you either like being tortured or want to test your strength. Alright. Sonia, are you willing to just sit there and watch your friend going through this? Hmm?”

  Eight Ball took the feather duster and gave Cherie a light, slow swipe from her throat down between her cleavage. She thrashed, her scream muffled by the gag. “Mmmmmmph!”

  “I knew you were ticklish from the get-go,” Eight Ball told her, smiling. “I know that Sonia is, too, and she’ll get her turn also if it comes to it.”

  Sonia’s skin turned shiny as she began to sweat heavily, and Ralphie Quinn noticed that it accented the tightness of her clothing. It turned him on. He wondered whether there was any possibility that she’d forgive them over this episode and agree to have sex afterward.

  Eight Ball pushed his black plastic-framed glasses back up on his nose with one finger and sighed, “Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to turn up the intensity now in light of the fact that you still refuse to cooperate. Billy, untie Cherie’s hands so you can hold her arms up above her head. Those beautifully groomed armpits of hers look perfect for a prolonged dusting.”

  Cherie thrashed wildly now, her sobbing and screaming muffled by her gag. Billy Bomb got hold of her and immobilized her. “Is there something you wanted to say?” he asked. She nodded miserably, so he removed her gag just enough so that she could be understood.

  “I….I’ll talk!” she gasped. They saw that Sonia was nodding vigorously now, eager to save herself. The Four Horsemen looked at each other, very satisfied with themselves.

  “Wonderful!” Eight Ball exclaimed. “You women did the right thing. Just remember, though, that we’ll be checking out your stories, so you’d better not be lying. Otherwise you’ll get well acquainted with Mr. Duster!”

  “You know, I think that sometime soon we need to sit down and have a meaningful discussion over the ethics of the things we do….like this,” Wally suddenly blurted.

  “You’ve picked a hell of a time in the process to bring up moral qualms, Wally!” Ralphie muttered.

  “You have to remember, Wally, that we only do these things to fight evil,” Eight Ball reminded him. “And, sometimes to fight it effectively, strong measures need to be taken.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Wally conceded. “OK, let’s get on with it.”

  “Now, let’s hear what the women have to say,” Eight Ball said, moving closer to Cherie to loom over her. “Just remember what I said about Mr. Duster.”

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  Two men walked slowly down the main street of GWIBE under the intense heat of the sun, gazing intently at the various sights. The shorter one, with a tendency to sweat heavily, removed his cap and wiped his brow. Running his fingers through his graying blonde hair, he adjusted his sunglasses and said, “You know, Lyle, I’m glad that I listened to you and dressed casual. It’s p
retty damned hot out.”

  “Yeah. What would there be out the middle of North Dakota to make us dress fancy, anyway? That’s what I figured.”

  “We’ve never had to meet Duke anywhere like this. Christ, we barely got on site when that doofus tried selling us a stainless steel pot.”

  “Well, it is a beer festival, Frank. He must’ve thought we were brewers and could be sold. Duke happened to mention when I called him that this is one wild place, but he didn’t think it was anything that would surprise us.”

  “I’ve gotta say, though, that I never walked by a riot before.”

  “Riot? Frank, that was a brawl between two gangs.”

  “So I take it that Duke has some work for us,” Frank muttered, greatly lowering his voice although nobody was near enough to hear him anyway.

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you heard any more from him….”

  “Nope. Since I called him right when we were getting here, nothing. But that’s Duke. He’ll give us a buzz when he’s ready to see us.”

  “We might have some time to kill. What can we do? We just ate.”

  “Well, let’s wander around and see the sights. Maybe there’ll be something interesting.”

  “I hope so. That goddamned ride up here was long and boring.”

  Lyle didn’t respond. He just looked around, noting the apparent lack of organization to this place. Everything was randomly placed, with a tent here, then a food stand, then maybe a pickup or a latrine. Instinct told him that there were good times to be had here. I can probably have a little bit of fun while we’re here, he thought. He knew that his rough looks appealed to some women, and there had to be some single ones at this event. Although he was a few years older than Frank, he actually looked younger, his dark brown hair not having grayed anywhere near as much as his partner’s.