by Michael Todd
One of the others put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed to let him know he wasn’t alone. Jim nodded at him and continued. “We joined the fight to help them out. JB made this sick move and sliced a mantis right the fuck in half. He was stoked, even more so to be back out there and fighting alongside his friends. We all cheered for him, and it was a surreal moment. But that’s when it happened—”
He choked the emotion back and nodded at Paula, who handed him another shot. His head back, he threw it down and kept his eyes closed through the burn. “Some kind of creature—maybe a jag, maybe a hammerhead, I don’t know—reached its claw out of the shadows and grabbed him by the shoulder. It yanked him back hard and dragged him right out of view.”
One of the men in the bar yelled, “Did you look for him?”
Jim nodded. “Damn straight we did. And from the looks of it, that sonofabitch fought all the way to the end. We found his weapons, though, and some drag marks. It was obvious he was overcome. We didn’t find his suit or his body. Whatever got him took it all.”
Paula squeezed out a couple of tears as she poured drinks. She had to make it look like she was sad, like there was no way that JB was still alive. She would have to get it through her head that, no matter what, the old JB was gone—at least to everyone but a handful of people.
The guys stood in huddled groups and tried to gather the strength to talk about it. One of the mercs wiped a tear away and held his helmet in his hand. “I can’t believe it. It was like the worst luck we could have had. We saw him fighting and we thought, shit, we have a chance to bring him back. We have a chance to talk some fucking sense into the guy. We were literally at that point when he was snatched away from us.”
Another of his buddies nodded somberly. “No one will ever tell me that shit was meant to be. We were there and he was in our grasp.”
An older gentleman at the bar shook his head. “Now, boys. You knew JB. He went out there with a purpose and if he had set his mind on something, nothing would change it. He had his last hoorah, killing those fuckers like he always had. Then he went down like a hero. It was how he wanted to go—like a real Zoo merc. No body left, no trace of him except for in this bar and in our memories.”
Jim shrugged. “You’re right. Ain’t nobody arguing that point. I guess we all hoped that we could do something—anything—to keep him from making that choice. But even when he was dragged away, I could see a damn smile on that bastard’s face. I wish I could see the beast that did it. I bet that fucker got some of his own shit. He won’t ever be the same.”
Everyone chuckled softly before silence descended once more. Paula lined glasses up on the bar. “A shot for everyone in JB’s honor. On the house. We can’t bring him back, that’s still out of human reach. But we can keep his memory alive in this place and through his badass trips into the Zoo. That is his legacy, and so is FUBAR.”
The crowd milled and shuffled to each collect a glass and head back to their seats. Normally, free booze would incite enthusiasm, but this was one shot that no one wanted to take. When they did, it would be real. JB would really be gone and they would have to remember him through FUBAR.
Paula chuckled. “Hey, Steve, you hold the record for the number of times thrown out of FUBAR by JB. Why don’t you tell us one of those stories?”
Everyone nodded and turned their attention to him. He was a large man with a dirty face, ripped clothes, and a broad chest. He smirked to reveal a missing front tooth. “All right. Let me think. There are so many to choose from.”
He tapped his chin and smiled again. “There was one time, probably early on—say maybe number twelve or thirteen. This big dude, real cocky, sat down at the table with a fucking banana split. Well, you know me, I was fucking plastered. Watching this gigantic bastard daintily eating his cherry made me laugh. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut none either.”
The bartender rolled her eyes. “I remember this one.”
Steve laughed and nodded. “So anyway, I went up and tapped him on the shoulder. He shifted his eyes to look at me since his neck was so huge it didn’t really serve a purpose anymore. I asked him if he wanted to have a tea party afterward. Everyone in the bar thought it was hilarious, except the big guy, of course. Well, he picked me up by the collar and reared back to punch me. His hand was the size of my head. I accepted right there in that moment that I was a goner.”
Everyone chuckled. “That’s right. I was going to meet my maker. I knew it. So I closed my eyes and prepared to take it. After a couple of moments, I opened one eye and found JB there, whispering into the guy’s ear. The guy smiled and dropped me. I thought for sure JB had saved my ass. Boy, was I wrong.”
Someone in the bar yelled out, “More fudge. More fudge.”
Steve groaned but with a laugh in his chest. “That’s right, that’s what you bastards chanted. JB picked me up under the arms and Paula grabbed my feet. They strapped me down to the bar and let old biggie turn me into a banana split. Then, when he was done, they tossed me out in the hot sand, covered in whipped cream and ice cream. The man walked out and set a fucking cherry right on the top of my head before he slugged me. I passed out right there in all my sundae glory.”
Paula laughed loudly. “And when he woke up, he smelled like a carton of bad milk. JB felt bad for him so we took him around back and hosed him off. We gave him a shot and sent him away for a three-day suspension. It was golden.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t fucking touched ice cream since then.”
Everyone laughed. Another man seated in the back corner raised his hand. “I have a story about being kicked out of here. It was exactly fifty-seven weeks and six days ago.”
The patrons turned as he walked forward. On the younger side—maybe mid-thirties—he sported a full beard and dressed more like a cowboy in the Old West than a merc, right down to the cowboy boots. He stepped into the center of the bar and removed his hat.
The crowd stared at him. “I know the exact amount of time because it was the longest ban he ever gave. Exactly fifty-seven weeks and five days. How he came to that number, I don’t remember.”
One of the men at the bar narrowed his eyes. “I remember you. You was the one who thought you could pick a fight with Heavy Metal mercs and get away with it. It was like seven versus you. Dumb fuck, I figured somebody had run you over by now.”
The man laughed. “I have to admit, I was a little naïve back then. A little too punch drunk and definitely way too cocky for my own good. I came in today to thank JB for banning me. It forced me to start taking shit more seriously. Then, while I sat here and waited for him, I heard he passed.”
The man at the bar snickered. “That was a really good fight, though. We thought for a second you might actually win—until you called JB a dirty son of a bitch like a complete moron.”
“In my defense, I was wasted and I thought he was one of them.” He smiled and pumped his hands up and down. “I hear it’s one of the very few times JB had actually put his hands on one of the patrons with intent. And I’ll tell you what, that motherfucker could pack a punch. I remember the first two hits and then nothing until I woke up in my fucking bed in the hotel, covered in bruises and with a broken fucking nose. Someone had brought me back there and laid me down. Whoever that was, I owe them.”
The other man shook his head. “You are clear of that debt because he’s dead. Old JB felt bad for hitting you so hard that you passed out. He roped a few of the guys in and they carried you to the hotel. He’s the one who put your ass in there. He even paid the woman at the front desk to check on you and make sure your ass was still breathing and shit.”
The merc smiled. “That makes sense. I thought I remembered waking up to him there but then passing back out. All this time, I thought it was a damn head trauma or something. Well, shit.” He held his drink up. “Thanks, JB, even though you beat the living fuck out of me. I deserved it, and you knew that.”
Jim chuckled and patted the guy on the back as he took a seat
at the bar. He rubbed his stubbled face and looked at the faces around him. “There are so many people here, and some not here yet, that JB touched. Whether it was good or bad, he made an impression on every single person who walked through that door. Everyone had a personal consultation, a drink made specially for them. And let me tell you, that asshole always chose right.”
The whole bar laughed and whispered for a moment before they fell silent again. Jim shook his head and fixed his gaze on the floor. “It ain’t often in life you meet people who you would literally sign up to walk through hell with, but here, it’s a normal thing. When we make a team, we make a family. Somehow, in there, JB became a part of every single team, every single friendship, and every single family this town has had. He was a hell of a fighter, a hell of a leader, and one hell of a fool.”
The crowd chuckled and whistled in hearty agreement. Jim shifted his gaze to the wall. “There is one really big space there and I always wondered who would fill that spot. There is no doubt in my mind now, though. JB deserves to look down from there and haunt the fuck out of all of us. Sure, we made his bar successful by coming here, but he made it the place where we had to be. Through all the death, the wrath, and the spite the Zoo put him through early in his life, he never let it change the man he was—faithful and loyal to every single one of us dumb asses. Even when we didn’t deserve it.”
One of the patrons stood and raised his glass in the air. “Everyone always says that us mercs are the bottom of the barrel. We are the rough and tough, the scruff, the assholes with little heart but very big wallets to fill. They always say we will straight to hell when we die. Well, I say bullshit. JB will probably be the one and only merc who gets through those pearly gates.”
Jim raised his glass. “That’s damn right! You know the big guy up there wants to hear his fucking stories. It was his ticket in. So, to JB. May the whiskey flow forever, the chicks have big tits, you kick the pirate leg, and you shine your hellacious snide humor on us from time to time. Because damnit, you sonofabitch, I’ll miss your ass.”
The whole bar erupted in cheers and the men threw their shots back as one. Paula leaned on the counter and took her shot before she glanced up at the camera. She knew when he finally got back, he would die watching that shit. But the time needed to fucking hurry on by because she didn’t know if she could hold it up on her own.
Chapter Four
Paula stood behind the bar and leaned against the wall with her arms folded. The place was packed, but no one rushed to throw back their drinks—not yet, at least. Even though it had been almost four days, everyone still seemed in shock. Teams had searched the Zoo until finally, the grim truth had settled in and hope subsided. They’d had a small memorial service for JB, something everybody agreed he would have hated, but they wouldn’t allow his passing to go without a tribute. Afterward, they all piled into FUBAR wearing black but not dress clothes. It was more like jungle gear but darker.
Dan glanced around him and then at Paula. “It looks like a black ops convention in here.”
She smiled. “It sure does. Although I have to say I’m tired of the quiet. I understand that everyone is somber, but this job is boring without a shit ton of drinks to make and a snide comment, or seven, to throw out.”
Dan chuckled. “It’ll get back there. We only need a little change and we both know it’ll eventually come.”
Paula shrugged. Across the room, a couple of waitresses picked up empty glasses and walked to the bar for refills. The music had been turned down a notch per request and the mercs sat talking quietly about stories JB had told, things they had seen him do out in the Zoo, and other interesting tidbits they had never brought up when he was alive. Everyone knew he wasn’t big on hearing his own stories or talking about his past, even though the ones who had been there with him knew he was a tough motherfucker.
The front doors opened, and the patrons glanced over and froze in shock. Every voice in the place went quiet and even the clink of the glasses stopped. A young guy entered, maybe in his early twenties, with a girl beside him. He cleared his throat nervously as he nodded to everyone and approached the bar. No one could take their eyes off him. His face was far too familiar and it was a shock to every single person in the place.
As JB approached the bar, he could hear whispers behind him. “That looks exactly like a young JB. The resemblance is uncanny.”
He had to fight a smirk as he went to where Paula stood. She walked over with a quick glance at the room before she focused her attention on him. “What can I do for you?”
JB cleared his throat. “I’m looking for my uncle, JB. I’m his nephew, Jay.”
An older gentleman stepped up to him and nodded at Paula. “I got this, Paula.”
He put his arm around Jay, walked him along the bar, and turned him to face the wall. A new and very large picture of JB hung in the empty space above the bar. Jay cringed slightly but didn’t show his emotion, astounded that they’d hung such a huge fucking picture of him. He was only the owner, not a fucking god.
The old man guided him to a table, pulled a chair out, and motioned for him to sit. “Let me tell you a story about your uncle, son.”
He launched into the story of his death and told it as if he had been there himself. Hickok pursed her lips and looked at Paula. With a smirk, the bartender put her hand out. “I’m Paula.”
Hickok cleared her throat and shook it as daintily as she could. “Jean. I’m Jay’s cousin—no relation to JB, though. He didn’t want to come out here alone, so I figured why the hell not. Can I get a vodka straight up?”
Paula smiled, poured the shot, and handed it to her. “On the house. Family and all.”
Jean held it up and grinned as she turned to glance around the room. There were so many people there. She recognized some of them from her black ops work there over the years but some, she had never seen before. All looked somber, though, and it struck Billie that if she’d died there would be very few somber faces. There would be very few people who remembered any stories about her. There would be Marcus, and everyone else would have been from the last couple of months.
She took a sip and turned to study the large picture of JB on the wall. With a hand over her mouth, she choked back a laugh and shook her head and pouted as the man on the stool beside her glanced over. “This is terrible. So sad. So sad.”
Billie turned away from him and wiped the vodka from her mouth. With pursed lips, she tried to find someone—anyone—who might be paying her more attention than the show going on in the middle of the floor. To her surprise, no one so much as glanced at her. She was both amused and annoyed by this fact. She was young, hot, and wore tiny shorts and a tight tank top. Long brown hair cascaded over her smooth, sun-kissed skin. Even she couldn’t help a doubletake every time she saw herself in the mirror. It was like a complete makeover in a plastic surgeon’s office. From head to toe, she looked exactly as she had when she was twenty-five.
Disappointed, she took a cherry from the fruit tray. She turned back, put it in her mouth, and sucked on it as she played with the stem. Her eyes shifted around the room but still saw no response, not even a single glance. After a few minutes, she sighed and pulled the stem from the fruit to toss it on the counter. She drew the stool up beside Dan, who wavered slightly on his seat, and sipped at her vodka.
It was obvious that whatever this was between the patrons and Jay would take a while. She would have to attempt to be patient, if possible.
At the table in the center of the floor, the story of JB’s death had been told and the patrons had moved on to tell stories of how he had touched their lives. Jay listened carefully and heard the emotion in the voices of the men and women around him. He had actually, until that moment, never realized how much he had affected other people’s lives. They really cared for him and were all torn up by the fact that he was gone.
One man who stood in front of him finished his story. “And that was the day I stopped drinking. If it hadn’t been for JB
, I’m sure by now, I’d be dead. And he didn’t even care that it would take money away from FUBAR. He only cared about me.”
Jay cleared his throat, emotionally caught up in all the commentary. Emotion surged through his chest and tears pulled at the corners of his eyes. The old man who had originally sat him down pulled a chair up beside him and put his arm over his shoulder. “We’re sorry you had to hear about your uncle like this. I know it’s very hard for you to hear. No one wants to find out that a loved one, a close family member, has passed. We only wish he would have told us about you so that we could have let you know in a more comforting manner.”
The other man nodded and waved to Paula. She stood and poured three shots of JB’s favorite whiskey and brought them to the table. The two speaking to Jay handed him one. “This was your uncle’s favorite drink. He always kept a bottle on the top shelf so that for exceptionally trying days, he had a release.”
“And let me tell you, we are a bunch of trying motherfuckers sometimes, but we always did it out of love and he knew that.” The old man chuckled.
Jay smiled when he thought about how much of an asshole every single one of those guys could be on any given day. But they were right. He knew they did it out of love and respect and so drank the shot without hesitation. The older gentleman squeezed his shoulder and shook him a little. “You took that as easy as JB would have. That must be in the genes.”
Jay took a deep breath and shook his head before he spoke quietly. “My uncle always told me how much he loved this place. When I was old enough, I taught myself how to make all these drinks. I came here to show him in the hope that he would take me in and make me part of the family out here.”
The old man smiled. “I sure as hell think he would have. What does everyone think?”
The whole bar cheered. Jay stood, walked to the bar, and glanced at Billie. She smiled and looked at her vodka. She thought about making fun of him for playing it up so well, but she didn’t want to blow his cover. Jay looked at the picture on the wall and shook his head. He turned, leaned against the bar counter, and tried to block the pain in his leg from his mind. The damn artificial leg had slipped again and there was a ton of pressure on the straps.
