by Bob Williams
Maybe next time, Middle.
Aside from the copious amounts of broken glass, a number of the lobby couches have been rendered unusable. I go straight past Go and don’t collect two hundred dollars, but I do pull out a Glock 9mm and get ready to start shooting. Lexi growls and hustles three steps in front of me. Her head is on a swivel and her nose is working like a ten-year-old at Sunday brunch.
We continue down the long hallway and I start to pick up on a few things. Finally, I stop. A thought occurs to me. This isn’t Freak damage. Yeah, a nice bunch of glass and furniture was destroyed but not too much other stuff. I put my gun away and tell Lexi to simmer down. I’m fairly sure this mess belongs to Cole.
When we finally come around the corner, Cole and Shields have long since produced their own cooking setup and are waiting for water to boil and eggs to cook on a mini skillet.
“Hey guys! Whatcha cookin’?” I say in a surprisingly loud voice, which scares the shit out of both of them.
“Jesus Christ, Prescott,” says Shields, who’d seemingly lost her command vocabulary. “What the hell was that?”
“That there is called foxhole humor. Right, Cole?”
“Fuck you, Prescott,” says Cole, oddly enough, with a smile on his face. “We thought you left. I’m not gonna lie, I’m happy to see you.”
I cross the room and extend my hand to Cole. He was extending an olive branch and I take it. We were getting down to the wick on this candle and it was time to blow out the flame or light another one.
“I see you worked out your issues with Malcolm on the lobby furniture.” I say.
Cole smirks. “Well, the students sure as hell don’t need it anymore. Plus I feel a lot better now, so…” He holds his arms out and flashes a grin. “What are you gonna do?”
“Well, you certainly are in better spirits, and that’s a good thing. Shields? How are you?”
“I’ve been better. And I will be fine. Cole is right. We are both glad to see you. We’ve done a good deal of soul searching together in your absence. We’re ready to join you, Prescott. I’ve stepped down as leader of this ragtag outfit and I name you commander for the remainder of this mission. If we survive, we can re-evaluate. Something tells me you won’t stick around, though.”
I was hoping they’d come around but I never in a million years expected this. “What brought this about? What did you two talk about?” I ask.
“Prescott, Cole and myself are ready to follow you into the fire. Leave it at that. Do you have a plan?”
“Yes. Let’s talk,” I say. “My plan is already in play. Well, the only sane part, anyway.”
Exactly twenty-seven minutes later Cole stands up. “You’re fuckin’ nuts, Prescott! It’s official. You have lost your fucking mind. Shields, we’re putting our lives in his hands on a straight-up gamble!”
“Yes, we are,” she says. “It’s so reckless and utterly stupid it just might work. When do we leave?”
“I think we should eat a good meal,” I say. Rest for a bit, then we go. I think a night surprise is exactly what we need.”
“Okay, Cole and I have your back. We eat and we rest.”
“And we pray!” says Cole.
THE END BEGINS
The sun was slowly climbing down from the sky as Kade and Ortiz walked down what used to be Broadway Avenue, discussing what was going to happen in the next couple of hours. They were heading to The Stage to check in with the prisoners. Kade enjoyed these types of get-togethers because the Regulars—and they were always Regulars—tended to beg for their lives. The problem for them was that they had nothing to bargain with, and even if he accepted their offer, he killed them anyway. And he liked doing it. No Regular was going to come into his territory, either of their own accord or having been captured, and leave. It just wasn’t going to happen.
Kade and Ortiz walked through the front door, which finally, and laughably, came off the hinges when Kade pulled it, and walked in. It was tough to see due to minimal lighting, but at least it still worked, thanks mostly to Ortiz. There was a massive bar to the left of the entrance that had long since been raped of all its joy, and the several large mirrors behind the bar had been smashed. While Kade loved to enjoy his beautiful face, most Freaks did not appreciate their reflections. They always saw one of two things in a mirror: a hideous face or self-loathing, and neither was a welcome sight.
Ortiz led the way through the main bar room and up a short staircase that led to a room with pool tables and a second, smaller stage. The pool tables were long gone, maybe a bonfire or some shit, Kade couldn’t recall, but what remained was the stage and a crudely constructed steel cell that encompassed it.
“Good afternoon, prisoners,” said Kade. “I hope you are finding your accommodations acceptable?”
“Actually,” said David Haberman, “they are atrocious.”
“Oh, my… Ortiz! What ever are you doing to these poor prisoners? Are you feeding them properly? Are they getting restroom visits?”
“Sure enough, Boss! I brought their meals with us.” He reached into a knapsack and pulled out two feet that had been severed at about mid-shin and tossed them into the cell. “Eat up, fellas! We got big plans tonight and y’all have to be ready.”
“My God, man!” yelled Hellwig. “We’re not savages! We’d starve to death first!”
“Well, shit. Chaos will most assuredly not be pleased by this.” Kade turned and walked a few steps away, feigning irritation before turning around and walking back to the cell.
“All right. Look here, fellas. I wasn’t going to tell you this but… one of you is actually getting out of this mess. Yeah. True story. So, who wants out?”
“My name is Brian Hellwig. I am of the Three, and I am one of four possible surviving members of the Murfreesboro Safe Zone. I will never betray the trust of my fallen comrades by giving you the satisfaction of an—”
Kade drew his sidearm and shot Hellwig right between the eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground.
“Ortiz, your blade.” Ortiz drew a fourteen-inch hunting knife that would essentially penetrate a rhinoceros and tossed it into the cell.
“You have just about an hour to cut out his heart and eat it, or I, or someone very close to me, will make you,” said Kade. “We have plans for tonight.”
Suddenly an enormous explosion rocked the foundation of the jail. Everyone in the room was showered in dust and grime.
“What the fuck was that?” screamed Kade.
SHOWTIME
The drive to Nashville from Murfreesboro is a very short three hours. I’ll never understand how the post-Descent entities in the middle of the state of Tennessee were able to clear the highways and the majority of well-travelled roads of all the detritus. They really must have an amazing Department of Transportation, or there were organized “Clear the Road” days where Freaks and Regulars put aside their differences for the sake of safe and cost effective transportation.
I didn’t have nearly enough time to back out of this utterly stupid plan. I can’t even begin to think what Emily would say if she knew what I am about to do.
“Just the two of us?” I picture her saying. “Huh-uh. Not with that plan. You’re on your own, little brother.”
I have to smile. It feels like I haven’t smiled in decades. If things don’t go sideways tonight, I could get used to smiling.
We get off Interstate 24 at Briley Parkway, drive a short couple of miles, and connect with Murfreesboro Road. Guy must’ve been important; I can’t escape him. We follow Murfreesboro until it turns into Lafayette. Then we go around a roundabout thingy and hook up with Broadway.
And that is where we want to be. I know I’ve said this before, that street names really don’t mean anything anymore, but us Regulars still try to use them, when possible, to keep at least a semblance of humanity. Who knows, we might actually need them again one day.
At Eighth Avenue and Broadway, Cole, Shields, Lexi, and I sit in the Comanche and don’t say a word for a
several minutes. I finally speak up.
“If anyone wants to jump ship, right now is the only shot you have. I will not hold a grudge… hell I probably won’t be alive to hold a grudge, so just walk away.”
More silence. Finally Cole speaks. “We have your back, Prescott. Let’s do it.”
“Okay, here goes everything,” I say. My voice cracks. I hope they didn’t hear it.
I turn over the ignition, leave the lights off, and we slowly drive the three blocks down to where Fifth Avenue crosses Broadway. We aren’t naive; we know spotters are watching us. When the Jeep finally comes to a stop at a large barricade made of crushed vehicles and other random construction materials, we collectively take what could possibly be our last free breaths.
This is not like the driving up to the Normal Safe Zone. These are not regimented soldiers watching the gate. These are Freaks. Freaks can’t follow directions with too much detail. At least, they shouldn’t be able to. Right away I know I’m dealing with the new breed of Freak. These are the trained Freaks. The ones that are broken in every physical sense of the term. They are not the savage half-breeds that were first taken by BH-2014. I have to say it: Chaos is involved. Which means he is either here or he could be summoned. Thank Go— well, thank the powers that be for small favors. As crazy as it sounds, with one foot over the starting line so far, this is a big plus. Now I just have to hope Kade doesn’t have an itchy trigger finger.
I don’t notice any form of walkie-talkie or anything on the guards that are posted on the gate. I suppose they aren’t really used to someone just randomly pulling up. No one runs off to announce a visitor. I think they’re all too intrigued. My guess is, as far as intra-commune communication went, these idiots just wandered around waiting for stimulation or direction. Don’t get me wrong, they’re a different kind of Freak, but they’re still Freaks.
“Cole, you ready?”
“Check!”
“Shields, are you a go?”
“Yes.”
“Lexi, stay here and stay low.”
I flick on the fog lights and douse them with a whole lotta bright. Cole climbs over the back passenger seat and into the rear. As Shields and I simultaneously open our doors and step out of the Jeep, Cole slips out the back and scoots under the vehicle and lies flat. Shields and I take up our position behind the reinforced front doors and enact the plan.
I raise my hands halfway up in the air. “Hey, guys and gals! My name is Prescott, and this here is my friend Shields! You guys killed all of her friends yesterday, so forgive her if she’s not immediately cozy. Anyway, Shields here is really just eye candy for you psychos. I’m here for Kade’s… oh, what time is it… 8:23 pm appointment. So could one of you dipshits go let him know I’m here, or do you have to wait for him to tell you to chew and spit?”
“Kade sees no one!” rasps one of the Freak brigade.
“Hmm. Okay, do you mind if I go ahead and ask him myself?”
I dive back into the Comanche, hit the preset button for the rocket launcher, and fire a big-ass rocket right at a place called the Big River Bar and Grill, reducing half of the structure to rubble.
“Get out here!” screams the lead Freak. “Get out in front of the car!”
“Okay, okay!” I say. “Just be cool and let’s wait. Your boss should be here any minute.”
Just as the words leave my mouth, all six Freaks on the front barricade post go down in succession. Clean headshots from my buddy Cole. The three of us take up a comfortable resting posture on the front of the Comanche and wait for Kade. So far, so good.
I have to admit that one little rocket was pretty sweet. I’ll have to thank Jay if I ever see him again. My cohorts and I are really enjoying the destruction when a crazy-looking man with long black hair and a Fu Manchu mustache—and his friends—come running up, guns drawn.
“Freeze!” screams Fu Manchu.
I frown but raise my hands all the same. I nod at Cole and Shields to do the same. “Freeze? I have to admit… Kade, right? Yeah, I’m a little disappointed with ‘freeze.’ You do realize you’re the arch villain of the story, right? And I suppose I’m the hero, although I’m not super excited about the title. We’re meeting face to face for the first time, I just blew up some of your shit, and you bring ‘freeze’ to the table.”
Kade shoots Shields in the shoulder and she goes down.
Shut your mouth, Prescott. Don’t do this.
Well, well, well. Malcolm has decided to join us.
“Let’s start over again, then, shall we?” Fu Manchu says. “Formal introductions out here in the open, a nice cozy fire in the background. I’m Kendrick Kade. This here is my associate, Ortiz.” He spreads his arms and waves them around. “These are my children. Welcome to my home. Now, before I kill you and eat your face, who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Prescott. These are my friends, Shields and Cole. We’re waiting for one more. We came to kill you.”
I’m begging you. Please! Stop.
No!
The next thirty seconds feel like that scene in every movie you’ve ever seen where somebody says something crazy, then it’s dead quiet for a minute, then the entire bar or whatever, erupts in laughter. That’s exactly what happens. Except it’s moderately terrifying and this isn’t a movie.
“You… and your two friends… came here to kill me?” Kade laughs more of his insane laughter, which is starting to piss me off. I get overconfident, I get psycho, but now I’m just insulted.
“So, do you want me to kill you right here, or is there somewhere else you’d rather die?” I say smugly.
“That will be enough from you, comedian. I can honestly say I am surprised, Mr. Prescott.”
Cole and Shields simultaneously interrupt him, “Don’t call him that!” I have to smile.
Feels almost like a team. Where are you? I ask Malcolm.
NO! You will not do this to me. I will not participate!
“As I was saying. You recently came across my radar, Mr. Prescott. I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you, though. It is you who will die. You see, I may rule this roost, but I take orders just the same.”
“Yeah, I met your boss. He’s a real douchebag. He killed my sister. I’m actually going to kill him, too. Can you go ahead and call him up? You know, do the eye thing. I have a few choice words before I take his ass out.”
I’m feeling good, things are moving according to plan so far. However, we’re creeping into the phase of the plan in which one little element hasn’t quite fallen into place yet. I might be feeling a few sweat drops here shortly.
You do know your thoughts are my thoughts, right, Prescott? You are well past the point of no return. You have killed yourself and your friends. Your arrogance is unlike anything I’ve seen in two thousand years. Shame on you!
“Ortiz. Take Mr. Prescott’s associates to holding and let them stew with their remaining friend,” says Kade. “They can join on us on the stage in one hour for our gift to Chaos. And Ortiz, fire up the PA, I want everyone in attendance.”
As Ortiz starts to take Shields and Cole to whatever holding is, I decide I can’t take the chance of letting them out of my sight. I spring off the Jeep and sucker punch Kade as hard as I can, straight to the temple. Suffice it to say he goes down hard, and the next thing I know, I’m getting tuned up by a horde of Freaks for the second time in only three days. Getting captured is actually part of the plan, but getting separated is not.
I’m on the ground, getting punched, kicked, and jabbed when I suddenly hear a noise unlike anything I’ve ever heard, nor do I expect to ever hear again. It’s sort of like a shriek at the top and a simultaneous guttural vomiting sound. I’m basically playing the role of a damn piñata, but I briefly entertain the idea of asking him if he needs me to hold his hair.
“NO! STOP!”
Dammit, it’s Kade, and he is in a full-tilt break. I figured this would happen, in fact I had hoped it would, but this… this is not what I expected. K
ade has nearly doubled in size, and his pulsating muscles rip his shirt nearly clean off. His eyes cloud with the familiar crimson, and blood leaks from his ears. I had hoped to trigger the break on the stage, which is where I knew this would end up. But if he totally loses it now before we get to the showstopper, I’m deader than Chuck Norris that time he fought Bruce Lee.
Everyone stops dead in their tracks. Especially the Freak brigade hauling my friends off to this asshole’s kitchen. Kade approaches me and stops about twelve inches shy of my face. His breath is warm and noxious. And my stomach… Jesus, I swear Michael Flatley is in there doing the Riverdance. I can feel his eyes. They’re like fifty-pound dumbbells in my brain, and the weight of his stare makes my knees buckle like Forrest Gump without the leg braces.
“Stand him up! Stand him up now!”
I am grabbed by no fewer than four cronies, who jerk me to my feet. Kade walks up to me. He stares at me again with those eyes and wills himself back into his normal body. I blink several times. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open a mile. He just willed himself down from a break. Seriously. Who in the world is this guy?
Someone who will crush you. Someone who will murder your spirit and laugh while doing it. Someone you cannot defeat.
Okay, thanks for the vote of confidence! Guess we’ll have to see how it goes.
“Pardon me, Mr. Prescott…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I lost my… cool there for a moment. Nice punch. It will, of course, be your last. I hope it was worth the trip. You and your friends are all about to die a very long, bloody, and excruciatingly painful death. Congratulations.”
I do not understand what you are doing, Prescott. You are going to die! So are the people you care about.
Maybe.
“Ortiz, I’m going put on some more fitting attire. The show will begin in ten minutes. Take Mr. Prescott, Mr. Cole, and Ms. Shields directly to the stage. Oh, and go fetch Mr. Haberman. He should also die tonight, just to complete the act. Call the kids and let them know to come out from shadows and join us.”
