by Wallen, Jack
Max van Angst twirled a drumstick over his head. “I happen to have my entire collection of horror films in my car. They’re on a backup drive. If you’ve got clean power, I can fire up my laptop and play anything you like.”
Toque turned to Max. “This bar is powered by solar and wind. I retrofitted the place a few years ago. Being surrounded by desert doesn’t exactly make for good customer service when the grid goes down. Once the coal plants burn their last lump of carbon, we’ll still be going strong here at the Casket.”
“Bad ass, Mr. Toque.” Max pointed his stick at the Canadian. “Wait, is that your first name or your last?”
Toque ignored the question and turned to exit the room. “I suggest you get your belongings inside before it gets dark. Otherwise, you can kiss it all so long by morning. Most of the thieves won’t dare step foot inside this building; but they sure as fuck won’t stop at stripping bare your car.”
Toque vanished into the kitchen.
Max turned to the band. “Is that dude for real?”
“Very,” the band replied in unison.
two | dance macabre
The room was dark and silent, save for a dim light spilling from Max van Angst’s laptop. The muffled sound of “Yeah Yeah Yeah” poured from his headphones. He tapped out the rhythm of the song on a pillow, keeping perfect time and tempo.
Everyone else slept soundly.
When the door to the kitchen burst open, and a shock of too-white light rained on the slumber parade, moans filled the room.
“What the fuck?” Max shouted, unaware how loud his voice was.
“Rise and shine, kitties and cats,” Toque called out.
“What time is it?” Max asked.
“It’s ten in the morning, my friend.”
“No way. It’s pitch black outside,” Max replied.
Toque laughed. “No, son, those windows are painted. The sun’s up and ready for everyone to come out and play.” Toque flipped a switch to bring the room to life with light.
More groans. The now-waking Kitty and company shielded their eyes as they dragged themselves out of the sleep-induced coma.
“You suck, Toque!” Tom groaned.
“Come on, kids, I need you for something rather important.”
Kitty sat up, blinking wildly against the light. “Can’t it wait until PM, at least?”
“No, Miss Kitty, it cannot…that is, unless you don’t mind a revolt on your hands at your upcoming show.”
Toque’s suggestion succeeded in drawing Kitty out of her makeshift bed. “You play hard, Toque. I respect that.” Kitty turned to the still-prone members of the band. “Schnell, schnell!” Kitty shouted.
“Ich hasse dich,” Todd Flash replied.
Kitty laughed. “You can’t hate me, Todd. It’s a scientific fact, and you know it. Many men have attempted the feat; all have failed.” She turned back to Toque. “What do you need us for?”
“Supply run,” Toque answered immediately.
“What?” Billy the Bat hissed. “That’s all we do anymore. Can’t you send us off on some covert mission to thwart the man or something?”
Toque crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me put it to you this way, Mr. Bat, if we don’t have those supplies, there’ll be no us left for the man to bother with. We are dangerously low on liquor, and our cache of snacks has been completely depleted. I need you to find a way to restock the bar…otherwise we’re going to have a lot of very unhappy customers come Friday.”
“Since you put it that way,” Billy replied, “fine. We’ll do your bidding, master.” Billy offered up his best Igor impersonation. Everyone laughed.
“Any chance we can take your truck, Toque? The Kitty Mobile is in bad need of repair.”
Toque dug into his pocket and tossed a set of keys to Kitty. “Drive my baby safely. We might need her someday for more than just supply runs.”
“We’ll treat her as if she were made of babies and puppies.”
Toque tipped his head toward Kitty. “I expect no less.”
“Suggestions as to where we should start looking?” Max asked. As soon as his voice was heard, everyone beamed.
The band was officially whole again. There was no denying that simple fact. Having Angst chime in on the latest duties went a long way toward healing the last of the wounds left from the departure of Mike Machine.
“As a matter of interest, I do have a suggestion.” Toque produced a map and spread it across the bar. He grabbed a Sharpie and drew a circle around a space on the map. “You see this area? Rumor in the underground has it there are a few bars that have yet to be raided. If you can get there quickly, I believe you’ll find what you need.” Toque looked up and scanned every pair of eyes before dropping his attention back to the map. He circled a larger section with his Sharpie. “Do you all see this area?”
Everyone nodded.
Toque continued. “This is fondly called The Wasteland. You would be very wise if you avoided this area at all costs.”
“Why?” asked Max.
“There’s a cloud hanging over the Wasteland…No one can see inside the fog, so no one actually knows what’s going on within its boundaries. My guess is that the Zero Day Collective has something to do with whatever darkness exists inside. I’ve been near it and heard the wailing wall of sound spilling from the infernal despair.”
Billy stood tall. “Let them get a taste of Kitty in a Casket’s wail and…”
Toque slammed his hand onto the table with enough force to shock everyone’s attention his way. “This is no joke, Billy. The Wasteland is not myth, fiction, or hearsay. You may be tempted to prove your mettle against whatever lies in wait beyond the veil, but trust me when I say you will not return if you do.”
Billy the Bat raised his hands in the air in capitulation to Toque. “Understood. We’ll stay clear of the über fog.”
After grabbing a quick breakfast of powdered eggs and toast, the band piled into Toque’s truck and tore off into the heart of the desert. As the dust settled in their wake, Toque looked on, arms crossed, his face lined with concern.
m/
The truck bounced and slid over the dust-covered road. Billy eased off on the gas in an attempt to regain control of the rear end. He tossed a quick glance to Kitty and said, “You know, under normal circumstances, I’d be diggin’ this ride.”
Kitty placed a white-knuckle grip on her seat belt and slammed her creeper-covered feet to the floorboard. “Apocalypse or no, your driving is making me want to hurl.”
Billy laughed and punched the gas. The truck fishtailed and scorched rubber on the cement for twenty yards. Kitty growled and landed a quick kick onto Billy’s right leg. He instantly took his foot off the gas and winced. The truck slowed to a stop.
Todd glanced into the open window separating the cab and the bed of the truck. “What’s going on?”
“Just saving your lives,” Kitty answered.
Todd forced his head through the window and looked between Kitty and Billy. “That’s fine, but would you mind saving our lives with a bit less…I don’t know…danger?”
Kitty pulled the window closed just enough to prevent Todd from pulling his head back.
“You didn’t just…” Todd started.
“Oh, but I did,” Kitty purred.
Billy punched the gas.
“Hey, come on, guys,” Todd shouted. “I could seriously get hurt here.”
Kitty opened the window and planted a kiss on Todd’s cheek.
Todd freed his head from the non-lethal guillotine. “You’re lucky I think of you two as family…otherwise, I’d be royally pissed right now.”
Kitty batted her eyelashes. “You’re too sweet, Toddy boy.”
“Are you two finished? If so, piss off so I can drive this bitch to our destination like the badass I am.”
Kitty petted Billy on the head. “You keep telling yourself that, Billy the Brat.”
Billy tossed a smile toward Kitty. “The kitten seems a bi
t extra saucy today.”
“She is.” Kitty leaned her head on Billy’s shoulder.
“Aren’t you supposed to be navigating this tour, Miss Casket?”
“I don’t know. Am I, Mr. Bat?”
“If we ever hope to find this place, you are.”
Kitty snatched up the crudely drawn map and did her best to get her bearings as quickly as possible. “Next intersection, take a left.”
Billy reached a four-way stop and turned the wheel sharply. The truck tires squealed against the right angle, and the passengers in the bed were tossed about like unstrung puppets.
“Look out!” Kitty shrieked.
Before Billy could change course, the truck slammed into a lone Moaner. The upper half of the zombie exploded, spilling offal and spoiled humors over the windshield. Billy hit the wipers and pressed the washer button…but the well had dried up. The rubber wiper blades simply smeared the waste over the glass in a thin film of dark burgundy.
“Son of a bitch!” Billy slowed the truck to a stop and slammed it into park.
“What are you doing, Billy?” Kitty asked.
“I’ve got to clean the windshield. Can’t very well drive without being able to see where I’m going…right?”
“Just be careful,” Kitty pleaded.
Billy nodded, stepped from the truck, and closed the door.
“Shit,” Billy whispered. He tentatively walked to the front of the truck and took in the problem at hand. “Son of a bitch. How am I supposed to clear that off?”
From the outside, the macabre smear coating the glass included chunks of meat and bone. The smell was rank. Billy covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his right elbow and glanced about the area.
“Bingo,” Billy whispered as he spied a gas station. He took off at a run, his arm still covering the lower half of his face. He reached his target and snatched the wiper squeegee from the bucket. “Fuck!” he spat. The bucket was bone-dry. By now the desert sun would have dried the blood to a crust, so the only way to rid the truck of the mask was with the help of liquid or an ice-scraper.
Billy raced to the convenience store and kicked the door open with his lug-soled boot. As soon as the passageway was clear, he slipped inside and scanned the room for fluid.
“Anything but precious water,” Billy whispered.
The room was empty. With intent to kill, Billy marched into a hall that led back to the repair bays, where he caught a glimpse of a spray bottle marked “Simple Green”. He snatched up the bottle and gave it a shake. “Hell yeah,” he cried out victoriously.
A quick rattling sound grabbed Billy’s attention. His heart skipped in a three-four metal waltz and his muscles tensed. He was weaponless and alone. Billy mouthed “Fuck” and scanned the area for something, anything to serve as a tool of zombie destruction.
Jutting out from a piece of pegboard was a six-inch pole, used to hang snacks or condom packs…whatever the weary traveler need purchase. Slowly and silently, Billy reached out and lifted the merchandise hanger from the comfort of its home.
With weapon in hand, Billy stepped forward, his arm cocked and ready to rock. He placed his right foot down and it skated forward, slipping on a thick puddle of mud.
“What the hell?” Billy whispered to himself. He glanced down to see brown footprints on the stained tile floor. The prints led to the bathroom.
Do zombies shit? Billy thought to himself. He knew the answer to that ridiculous question.
From beyond the door, a gushing flush rang out, followed by a low humming sound.
That was Billy’s queue to hall ass. He ran from the building and to the truck. With a few quick squirts of the bottle, Billy set about to clean off the blood-pudding stain so they could get back underway.
Kitty poked her head out the window. “Hey, mister service station man, would you mind checking my oil while you’re at it?”
A sinister grin slid across Billy’s lips. “I’ll check your oil, all right. I’ll check it like a boss.”
From the bed of the truck, a chorus of catcalls rained down. Billy ignored them and continued clearing the sticky sludge from the windshield. When the job was finished, he tossed the tools into the back of the truck and returned to the driver’s seat.
“Where’s my tip, lady?” Billy teased.
Without warning, Kitty leaned over and planted a warm kiss on his lips. When they parted, Billy’s face was little more than a silly grin.
The truck roared back to life and rolled off toward their goal.
“About a mile from here, take a right, and we should see our destination on the left.” Kitty continued navigation.
“What am I looking for?”
Kitty glanced back at the map. “According to this, it’s called The Snake Pit. Charming name for a bar, don’t ya think? Sounds like some of the dives we were playing years ago.”
“Thank God we grew out of those venues as quickly as we did. I couldn’t take another beer bottle to the head.”
Kitty clapped her hands together quickly and squealed. “But there were some wonderful memories.” Before she could begin reminiscing, their destination came into view. “There it is!” Kitty shouted, pointing to the left side of the street.
The Snake Pit stood, in typical fashion, as a reminder that very little had gone right for the world. Entropy and chaos were the only things that could be counted on to stand in the way of order and loyalty. Friendship and trust. Beyond that, all else was chance.
Billy backed the truck to the entrance of the building. The second he shifted into park and turned off the ignition, he slammed the outside of the driver’s side door with an open palm.
It was go time.
The band exited the truck and made their way to the front entrance.
“What do we do if the place is hostile?” asked Tom.
“Run,” Billy answered. “And run quickly.”
“Why did we let Toque talk us into this suicide mission?” Max asked.
“Because he’s Toque,” answered Kitty.
“That doesn’t tell me anything,” retorted Max.
Kitty stepped up onto the back of the truck and spoke as if she were a captain ready to lead her soldiers into battle. “That man just so happens to have saved our lives. Without him, we’d still be trucking back and forth across the desert, trying to set up shop and rock. Instead, we have a goddamn home and a fucking regular audience. That’s why we’re helping Toque. If you don’t like it, you can always hit the road and find another band.”
Angst nodded his head slowly, whipped out a comb, and ran it through his hair in an attempt to revert to his usual smooth. “We’re cool, betty.”
“Damn straight we are, Max,” Kitty said, before jumping from the truck bed and landing in a cloud of dust.
Billy made his way to the door of the bar and placed his ear to the worn wood for an up close and personal listen. “Nothing,” he whispered.
“Then why are you whispering?” Todd asked.
Billy glanced Todd’s way and shook his head before slipping his hand to the knob and giving it a turn.
When the door opened, a wall of dank, musty air spilled from within. Billy coughed against the smell and entered.
Through the dirty windows, enough thin shafts of light cut through to illuminate the room in spotty fashion. The Snake Pit had been trashed.
“Are we too late?” Tom asked. “Looks like we’re too late.”
Billy made his way behind the bar. “If Toque said this place has treasure, then this place will have treasure.” He glanced up at his bandmates. “Split up and search every nook and cranny this place has to hide. We don’t return to the Casket without booze and grub.”
Max offered up a sarcastic salute and set about digging around.
Kitty joined Billy at the bar. She spoke under her breath. “It looks like someone beat us to this punch, Billy. It won’t be that big of a deal if…”
Billy stood straight and snapped at Kitty. “It is a big deal
, Kitty. Even beyond helping Toque out, can you imagine the hit our show will take if the crowd shows up and there’s no booze? Those people depend on our shows to forget.”
Kitty backed off, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “What’s gotten into you, Billy?”
Billy sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the loss of Mike. Maybe it’s the new guy. Maybe it’s just the fucking apocalypse taking its toll on me.” He leaned his elbows on the bar and placed his head in his hands.
Kitty encroached on Billy’s space and wrapped her arms around his neck. The second her lips touched down on his cheek, she could feel every muscle in his body ease up. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that, Kitty,” Billy responded. “But as long as you’re by my side, I’m fairly certain I can tolerate anything.”
She planted a kiss on Billy’s lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant to be.” Billy grinned.
“Bingo!” Max shouted from another room.
Billy and Kitty instinctively pulled away from one another and sped off toward Max’s voice. When they arrived in the adjacent room, Max was standing before a walk-in closet and pointing.
“Captain, there be booze here,” Max said in his best Scottish brogue.
Billy planted a kiss on Max’s cheek. “Angst, you quoted Star Trek while tracking down alcohol. I officially love you.”
Max wiped at his cheek. “I assume you mean in a platonic bromance kind of way? Or should I be concerned that you’re going to start hitting on me in earnest?”
“What do you mean, in earnest?” Billy asked. “You say that as if you think my affection toward you is a lie.”
Max simply shrugged.
Kitty rolled her eyes and called for the other members. As soon as they arrived, she instructed them to haul the goods to the truck.
“Holy Bloody Mary,” Tom cried out. “There’s gotta be twelve cases of liquor here.”
“And ten boxes of various edibles,” Kitty added. “Let’s get these loaded and haul ass away from this real gone creepsville.”
Todd entered the room with a GoPro strapped to his head.
