by Jack Wallen
Todd shook his head at Tom. “Mooner, you’re like society on a Federation starship.”
Tom looked curiously at Todd and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
The rest of the band answered in unison. “No class.”
Out in the bar, Touque was busying himself with cleanup. The last few stragglers were slowly filing toward the door, thanking Touque for the perfect distraction.
“All too happy to oblige,” Touque replied with pride.
A quiet hush overtook the Casket. Touque poured himself a shot of whiskey and kicked it back in a single, quick gulp. When he opened his eyes, the stranger stood before him.
“Sorry, sir, the bar is closed for the night. Last call was thirty minutes ago. Gotta send ya packin’ so I can ready this place for another go ‘round and get some shut-eye.”
The stranger glared at Touque, his eyes refusing to blink or budge.
Touque repeated his declaration, this time with a bit more volume and force. The stranger stood, back rigid and eyes glued.
“Listen, friend,” Touque started. “I have to ask you kindly to exit the building. It’s time to close up shop.”
The stranger slammed a white-knuckled fist onto the bar.
Touque cautiously reached under the bar to feel for his bat. “Now, there’ll be none of that. I’ll ask you nicely one last time. If I have to repeat myself again, I’ll be doing it with a bit of help…if ya know what I mean.”
The stranger’s other fist crashed down on the counter. “You don’t tell me what to do, motherfucker!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Wormy veins throbbed under the flesh of his neck, and a hurricane of spittle shot from his raging mouth. Before Touque could retrieve his trusty Louisville Slugger, the stranger connected with a right hook to the jaw. The punch landed Touque on the floor, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. The stranger hopped onto the bar and stared down at the prone man. “Where’s the band?” the stranger shouted.
Touque remained silent. His eyes scanned the area to see his foot mere inches from the bat. All he had to do was flip the bat down, grab the hickory stick, and swing it hard and fast into the skull of the madman.
Before Touque had a chance to enact his plan, the stranger hopped down from the bar and dropped a dirty work boot down on his chest. Every molecule of air was forced from his lungs, the hiss and huff punctuated by the distinct pop and crack of ribs.
“Where’s the goddamn band, barkeep?” the stranger growled.
Touque took in a shallow breath and coughed out, “Go fuck yourself.”
“Hey!” The shout came from the other side of the bar. The stranger spun on his heels to see a snarling Billy cock a fist.
Billy’s punch connected with the stranger’s nose, sending a fountain of blood spraying the floor at his feet. He grabbed the stranger by the collar and bounced him over the bar.
“Last call, motherfucker!” Billy shouted. “Time for you to get your ass on home before I have to play a rousing game of Clown Punch with your face. You dig?”
With a heave, Billy tossed the stranger to the dusty dirt outside the Casket’s entrance. Before he had a chance to prepare himself, the stranger was up and waving a jewel-handled switchblade knife at Billy.
Billy laughed. “Well, that’s a special knife, princess. Did it come with matching gold lamé pants and a vinyl thong panty?”
The stranger didn’t bother to attack. Instead, he very slowly and cautiously backed away from Billy and Touque. “Don’t look away, bastards. You never know what might come up missing.” He continued his backward migration until he reached a rust-bucket Chevy, the color of Bondo, dried blood, and feces. He twisted his way into the driver’s seat, brought the angry engine to life, and squealed out of the parking lot.
Billy turned to Touque. “You okay?”
Touque offered a half-hearted nod.
“Why am I not buying that steaming plate of shit you’re serving?”
Touque chuckled and, as he did, grabbed his ribs with a wince. Billy wrapped an arm around Touque’s waist and took the brunt of his weight as they slowly made their way back into the Casket.
“What the hell just happened?” Kitty asked, her voice sharp and demanding.
“Some drunk assbag causing trouble,” Billy said. “Touque and I handled it.”
Kitty rushed to Touque’s side. “Looks like Touque’s face handled most of it. You okay?”
Touque groaned in response. Kitty turned to Tom. “Find something for his pain.”
“Like what?” Tom asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, like a frying pan or a tampon,” Kitty hissed. “What do you usually do for pain, Tom?”
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to go all psycho on me.” Tom vanished from the scene to locate pain relief.
“Have you seen the guy before, Touque?” Kitty asked.
Touque answered with a bit of rasp in his voice. “Never. Oddly enough, though, he was insistent on seeing you guys. And he had on a Kitty In A Casket trucker cap.”
Kitty and Billy exchanged glances. “When did we last sell those at the merch table?” Kitty asked.
“I don’t think we have. He could have made it himself,” Billy answered.
“So we’re dealing with a fucking creeper?” Todd Flash asked.
Touque nodded. “I would imagine he’ll be back.”
Tom returned to the scene, waving two bottles, one in each hand—pills and booze. “Gotcha covered, Touque my man.”
Kitty snatched the alcohol from Tom. “Since when was it okay to mix whiskey and pain killers?”
Tom shook his head as if to rid his ears of water. “Duh, since always.”
Kitty drew in near to Tom. “It’s amazing you’ve made it this far, Tom.”
“I know, right?” Tom replied.
Kitty turned to Touque and handed over the bottle of pills. She then snatched a glass from behind the bar and filled it with water. Touque eagerly accepted the drink and downed three pills at once. He closed his eyes and sighed against the pain.
Billy gave Touque a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Tomorrow, we’re going out and search for that bastard. When we find him, he’ll pay for what he did to you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. the Bat,” Touque said weakly.
“Like hell it isn’t. No one fucks with our Touque and gets away with it,” Billy responded.
“Hell no, they don’t,” added Todd Flash. “We’ll find the prick and deal with him in our own special way.”
Touque shook his head. “No, no, no. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but it’s not how we do such things.”
Kitty kissed Touque on the forehead. “We get it, Touque, you’re Canadian. Lucky for you, we’re not. Don’t worry, though; we won’t break the man. Bend him? Maybe. Break him? Probably not.”
“Come on, Kitty,” Billy whined. “You’re taking all the fun out of it. Besides, the shitbag hurt our Touque.”
Kitty pursed her lips. The bar went silent as thought danced behind her eyes. “You’re right, Billy. Maybe the son of a bitch needs breaking.”
Devil horns flew high into the air.
“That’s my girl!” Billy shouted.
Touque shook his head and fell into a fit of coughing. With each explosion of air, he grabbed his side and shuddered in pain. Kitty pulled him into a hug and spoke softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”
With the care of a practiced nurse, Kitty navigated Touque to his bedroom and helped him under the covers. She kissed Touque on the forehead and left his room in silence.
Back in the bar, Kitty stared down Billy and the gang. “Seriously?” Kitty asked.
“Seriously what?” Billy questioned.
“You’re going to go all alpha male while our fearless leader is practically writhing in pain?”
Todd Flash was quick to respond. “Oh, come on, Kitty. Touque’s a tough old bird. He’s probably broken every bone in his body at least a couple of times.”
“That
’s not the point, Todd. I don’t care if Touque’s a veritable Evel Knievel, we can’t start a war on his behalf. None of us know anything about this stranger. For instance, why in the hell was he demanding to see us?” Kitty’s voice was growing anxious. “Maybe he has nefarious doings in mind for when he lays hands on our pristine and virgin flesh!”
The band broke out in gales of laughter.
“Okay, maybe not virgin,” Kitty amended, and then broke into a gaping yawn. “What time is it?”
A wave of yawns spread quickly around the group.
“Time to get ill?” Todd replied.
“No sleep ‘til, Toddy F.,” Billy answered, and slapped Todd across the cheek.
One by one, the band crawled into their makeshift beds to drift away from the nightmare landscape of the apocalypse.
nine | thrill ride
The front entrance to the Casket creaked open, sending a beam of brilliant sunlight on a desperate search for vampiric flesh. Instead, it only managed to find the squinting eyes of Kitty and Billy.
“What the fuck?” Billy hissed.
“Rise and shine, Bat,” Todd said, and followed up with a guffaw. “Get the irony there? If you were a real bat…”
Billy chucked his pillow at Todd. The fluffy projectile went wide right. “I get it, Todd. You’re abso-fucking-lutely hi-goddamn-larious. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s sleep-thirty.”
Todd tossed the pillow back at Billy, nailing him square in the head. “Actually, my friend, the correct time is vengeance o’clock. Now get your ass out of bed. We’ve got a stranger to track down.”
At the mention of the stranger, Billy sat up straight and punched his fist in the air. He then mumbled, “I cannot vengeance until I coffee.”
“Fair enough,” Todd answered.
Billy fumbled and stumbled with his jeans, waking the remaining bandmates up in the process.
“Is it show time yet?” Kitty asked. She ran her fingers through a sleep-induced rat’s nest of hair. “I need my brush. No, I need caffeine. Someone feed me caffeine, please. I’ll open my face up and you pour it in. Okay. Thank you.”
“What time is it…really?” Tom asked. “And if you say anything remotely related to a.m., I will throat punch you so hard your testicles will pop out of your eye sockets. Wait…that doesn’t make any sense. Who has coffee?”
Max van Angst joined the living with a cat-in-heat screech. “I could kill each of you with my inner rage…without lifting so much as a pinky. Please, do us all a favor and shut your big fat flapping mouths.” Before Max could retreat to his pillow, he glanced about the room. “Did all of that really come out of my mouth? If so…I didn’t mean any of it. It’s just…” Max forced his eyes open. “Oh, hell, who am I kidding? I meant every last word. I sleep now.” Without another word, Max fell back onto his pillow.
Billy opened the kitchen door and gestured for Kitty to enter. “Suit yourselves. But when the last dregs of coffee are gone, don’t come crying to me because you missed out on your shot of daily java.”
Todd shook his head at the sight of the open door. “Fine. Everyone get coffee and then we’ll head out. But no more distractions. If we plan on finding the bastard that attacked Touque, we have to leave as soon as possible…at least while it’s still very much light outside. Kitty, give Touque the once-over and assess his injuries. There’s no way we leave if he’s unfit to be alone.”
The band agreed and, immediately following a thumbs up from Kitty and a caffeinated respite, they exited the Casket and piled into Touque’s truck—Billy, Kitty, and Todd in the front; Tom and Max in the bed. Billy tacked a note on the inside of the door that read Vengeance is a dish best served with rock and roll.
“Do we have any idea where to start looking?” Todd asked as he pointed the truck east.
“Any direction is just as good as the next,” Billy answered.
Todd nodded and punched the gas. The old truck lurched, coughed, and took off toward randomville.
“The only clue I have to offer is he was driving a beat-up Chevy with a custom intake on the hood. It sounded like it needed a timing belt, and the third cylinder was misfiring.”
“That’s the only clue you’ve got?” asked Max. “How in the hell can you tell if a cylinder is misfiring? And what is a cylinder?”
Everyone in the truck, minus Billy and Max, rolled their eyes and groaned. In the meantime, Billy launched into a spiel about engine sizes, carburetion, and piston architecture. When he finished, Max shook his head and whispered, “Note to self…” His words faded to silence.
m/
The truck tires spun across pavement for over an hour before any signs of life were spotted. It came in the form of a loud, throaty roar from an approaching vehicle. The view was obscured by a wall of dust kicked up by hot rubber on desert pavement. From beyond the cloud, the muscle-car voiced its intention with a gargling thunder. Within seconds of the announcement, the angry Chevy broke the veil and raced past the gawking gang. Every member in the old truck did their best to gain the quickest of snapshot glimpses at the driver.
Not one pair of eyes managed to lay claim on the sight of sights…even when the Chevy screamed past the truck.
“That’s him, Todd!” Billy shouted, recognizing the car.
Todd crushed the gas pedal under his foot to launch the truck forward. Unfortunately, the Chevy had the jump and was out of sight before the rattling beast managed to get beyond the speed limit.
“Fuck!” Billy shouted, and slammed a fist into the dash.
“Sorry, man!” Todd exclaimed. “The truck…”
Billy placed a hand on Todd’s shoulder. “I know, I know. It’s not your fault. Just keep on driving in that direction. The bastard is bound to make a mistake at some point.”
“Or not,” Todd whispered, and nudged the gas pedal a bit harder. The truck responded by gaining another mile per hour. The steering wheel shuddered in Todd’s hands like a desperate vibrator.
A mile clicked by in silence.
Another.
And another.
The road led to an industrial-grade drainage system—large enough for the truck to traverse. Billy pointed toward a cement ramp. From the hot surface, waves of heat signatures rose.
“First off, what in the fuck is this structure doing in the desert? Is this some sort of military training compound or something? Second…are you sure we should be poking our noses in this area?” Kitty asked. “You never know what kind of trouble we might find.”
“Exactly, Kitty,” Billy responded. “Who’s to say our stranger didn’t take an early exit from the lonesome highway to hide away in this clusterfuck of tunnels?”
Todd pulled a hard left to exit the ramp. The truck managed to gracefully navigate into a sewage system large enough to drive a Mack truck into and out of.
“This place just doesn’t make sense,” Kitty whispered.
The light of the sun dimmed dramatically. The sound of the truck exhaust amplified and echoed until it sounded more Harley than Ford.
“What are we doing in here, Todd?” Kitty asked.
“Searching, Kitty,” Todd answered.
“You better hope we don’t need to pull a fast getaway. Like from the military…” Kitty continued. “The only direction we have is straight ahead.”
Todd grinned. “You drastically underestimate my skills at reversing a truck.”
Kitty slapped Todd on the shoulder. “Duly noted. Now, get us the fuck out of here.”
Toddy urged the truck forward slowly. As they neared the halfway point, a silhouette coalesced at the end of the tunnel.
“What the fuck?” Todd asked nervously. “Is that…”
“People?” asked Billy.
“Yeah…people?” responded Todd.
“Looks like it. Son of a bitch, what are they doing here?” Billy leaned out the passenger window to get an unobscured view. “Son of a bitch,” Billy whispered, almost to himself. “It looks like they’re celebrating.”
“Say what?” Kitty asked. “Who in their right mind celebrates at a time like this?”
“Hippies,” Todd said with finality…and disdain. “They’ll celebrate anything.”
“No need to jump to conclusions, Todd. Just keep moving forward until we have our answer.”
After a moment of driving, the truck had finally stopped within earshot of the small group. They were gathered around a metal drum with a blazing fire.
Kitty leaned forward. “Why in the hell are they standing around a fire in the middle of the desert? In a fucking sewer system better suited for the likes of Los Angeles?”
“Do we really want to know the answer to that question, Kitty?” asked Billy.
“Maybe not.”
Todd shut the engine down.
“What are you doing?” barked Billy. “We might need to make a fast getaway.”
Todd glared at Billy. “We’re in a fucking cement tunnel. There is no such thing as a fast and safe getaway at this point.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?” Billy prodded.
“How’s a bit of intelligence gathering sound?”
Billy nodded slowly at Todd and said, “I like where you’re going with this, Flash.”
Without replying, Todd slipped out of the truck and started off toward the gathered crowd. Tom and Max hopped out of the bed, and the remaining band caught up with the leaders.
Kitty In A Casket drew within twenty yards…close enough to hear the strangers singing.
“Son of a bitch,” Kitty whispered. “They’re singing ‘Dancing With The Devil’.”
One of the members of the small group of survivors stopped her celebration and dropped into a defensive posture.
“Leave,” the woman barked…her voice dark and resonant. “You are not welcome in New Gaia City.”
Billy chuckled softly and whispered, “Hippies.” He announced to the small gathering, “We’re just here for some information.”
The woman stepped forward; when she spoke, her voice was deeper and more pointed than average. “Before the race of man crumbled, information was king. It is my belief that information will, someday, rule the land once again. Until then, information may not be king, but it is power. With that power comes great responsibility. With great responsibility comes an even greater stress on the human psyche and soul. If you are willing to properly compensate us for this exchange of information, we might be willing to come forth. Otherwise, you are wasting your time and ours.”
