Kiss & Hell (The Last Casket Book 2)

by Wallen, Jack

  “Oh, my God!” Kitty exclaimed. “You’re such a nerd.”

  “Posterity, Kitten,” Todd replied. “One of these days the world will want to know how Kitty In A Casket saved the human race.”

  Max laughed as he walked by with a case in hand. “One bottle of booze at a time.”

  “Damn straight,” Billy added.

  Kitty continued handing cases and boxes to the manual labor. “Oh, my God. We should get some footage for a video. We’ve recorded the new tracks for the album–why not use Todd’s camera and snag some moments to play on the screen at our show?”

  Max nodded as Kitty transferred the last of the case into his hands. “I remember seeing an abandoned warehouse a few miles back. We could crank up one of the new songs and film our crazy asses navigating the nightmare. That would be so fucking epic.”

  Kitty slapped Max on the back. “Brilliant idea, Max. I like the way you think.”

  Nervous laughter spilled from Max’s lips. “Good thing, because I’m fairly certain your boyfriend doesn’t.”

  “Boyfriend?” Kitty blushed. “What do you mean by this boyfriend nomenclature?”

  “Busted!” Max exploded. When he calmed down, he spotted the concern lining Kitty’s face. “What I mean to say was…nice use of a syllables, Miss Casket.”

  The last of the band hopped into the bed of the truck, and Max slammed his fist down on the roof. The old truck fired up and took off like it was a young stallion in a field of donkeys. The bottles clattered against one another, but their integrity held fast.

  Kitty opened the window between the cab and the bed and peeked her head out. “Don’t let any of those bottles break, boys. We need every last one.”

  The passengers in the back nodded.

  “Max,” Kitty continued. “You need to make sure we don’t miss that warehouse. We’re going full-on guerrilla with this one…so any mistake could be treacherous. Everyone else, make sure you’re locked and loaded.”

  Each and every man aboard knowingly nodded.

  “I think the warehouse was two or three blocks down and on the left side. If I remember correctly, it’s next to an old donut shop.”

  Everyone groaned.

  “Don’t say donut…not now,” Tom cried out. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve put anything so sweet in my mouth?”

  Uproarious laughter broke out from the bed of the truck.

  “There it is!” Max shouted as he pointed at a sign that read ‘Go Nuts’ with an image of a very happy face about to dive into what appeared to be a cream-filled donut on the verge of exploding.

  Next to the small artisan confectionery loomed a boarded-up building, its facade broken and worn. The dilapidated walls were stained with every sort of darkness imaginable, and the upper-story windows were cracked, shattered, or completely bereft of glass.

  “This is fucking perfect!” Billy shouted as he parked the truck as close to an entrance as possible.

  Before exiting the truck, Billy rolled down the driver’s side window and took a listen. The only sound to grace his ears was a gentle wind careening off the Go Nuts sign, causing it to creak as it swayed.

  “Everyone wait here. I’m going to see if we can get in.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Billy opened the truck door and quietly made his way to the building entrance. Before even attempting to turn the handle, he leaned in and listened. Nothing, Billy thought, held his breath, and turned the handle.

  The door opened with a groan.

  Billy glanced back at the truck and waved for everyone to follow him inside.

  “Mother of darkness,” Max mumbled. “This would be fucking ideal for a concert venue.” He danced a quick twist and yelled, “Hello!”

  The echo of Max’s voice bounced about the massive room until it faded to silence. Billy grabbed Max by the arm and spun him hard. He whispered to Angst. “Do that again and your mouth gets duct-taped. The last thing we need is to attract unwanted company. Capiche?”

  Max responded with an off-kilter smile. “So we’re an Italian mob now?”

  “We’re whatever the hell we want or need to be,” was Billy’s response. He released Max and gave Kitty his undivided attention. “What do you want us to do?”

  Kitty glanced around and turned the corners of her ruby lips slightly upward. She looked to Todd. “You filming?”

  Todd nodded.

  Kitty took in all of the band slowly and then said teasingly, “I want you all to catch the Kitty.”

  Without warning, Kitty sprinted away faster than anyone expected.

  “Shit, she’s fast!” Max exclaimed.

  Todd Flash checked that his camera was secure and took off as quickly as his legs would carry him. The rest of the band followed suit.

  Billy zipped past Max, Todd, and Tom, his legs pumping like mad. Ahead of him, Kitty took a set of stairs two at a time. She reached the landing, stopped, turned, and flipped off the men. Before Billy could reach her, she raced onward…around a mezzanine that overlooked the ground floor.

  Just as she was about to turn a corner, a door screamed open and slammed into her head. Kitty reeled backward as an obese Moaner shambled into her view.

  “Fuck!” Kitty shouted as she put her hands to her head.

  The zombie unleashed a guttural moan and lunged at Kitty. The undead fat man grabbed at the air. Kitty ducked just as the beefy arms swept by; the stench of rotting flesh showered her.

  “Kitty!” Billy cried out and shifted his body into a gear he never knew existed. As he neared the melee, he jumped and landed the sole of his boot square into the sloppy, piecemeal face of the Moaner. The bones in the skull cracked loud enough for all to hear. The zombie’s head snapped back so hard it instantly dropped to the ground. Billy landed on one foot and stumbled backward into the oncoming crew. Tom Mooner scooped up Billy by the armpits and righted him before he hit the floor.

  The zombie lay motionless.

  “Ninja’d!” Max shouted.

  Everyone turned to Angst and shushed him with the classic finger-to-lips gesture. He instantly fell silent and shrugged.

  “Those damn things are like Lay’s potato chips,” Todd said. Before anyone could question his statement, he added, “You can’t eat just one.”

  Everyone nodded their understanding and glanced around the space in search of undead stragglers.

  “Thank you, Billy,” Kitty said as she pulled him into a deep hug.

  “Todd is right,” Billy interrupted the moment. “Where there’s one, there’ll be more. We should get the hell out of here. I’m sure Todd got plenty of footage for one shot.”

  From behind, Max said, “Are you sure?”

  Everyone turned to see Angst dancing with a mannequin.

  “Finally got a date to prom, eh, Max?” Billy said with a laugh.

  Todd Flash followed Max’s lead and scooped up a mannequin body, waltzing his way toward the stairs. Without a word, the rest of the band grabbed an inanimate partner and joined the party. Everyone descended the stairs with as much grace as possible. Once on the ground floor, they all spread out and continued the dance macabre.

  Not a word was said.

  Softly, Kitty’s voice could be heard singing.

  It’s been too long ago

  Two three months, yeah I don’t know

  It’s time - without a doubt

  I’m dressed to kill let’s have fun

  This Friday - I’m gonna go out

  You’ll rock the stage you’ll rock the crowd

  This time - I’ll catch your breath

  (I’m) just like your type – angel-like

  Come on, wanna go?

  There’s something you don’t know

  It’s gonna, gonna, gonna be you and me

  When your lights go out then you will see

  Oh baby now it’s time to rock n roll

  It’s gonna, gonna, gonna be you and me

  When your lights go out then you will see

  O
h baby now it’s time you gotta go

  I’ll take you by your hand

  I know what you think my friend

  With your hungry eyes

  Come closer to me

  But darling, as sweet you are

  Once you’re near you’ll never get far

  It’s over, now, with sticks and stones

  I’m gonna crush your bones

  Your blood on my hands

  Will you ever wake up again?

  Should I sing a lullaby?

  For our last goodbye

  The second the song was complete, Kitty kissed her mannequin partner and let it crash to the floor. She raced around the room and tagged each member of the band. As she touched them, they dropped their lifeless dolls, bowed to Kitty, and continued their dance to the exit.

  three | beer is food

  The truck pulled in close to the entrance and everyone quickly disembarked.

  “Why’s the sign not lit up?” asked Billy. “By my watch, it’s beer o’clock.”

  “You mean oh-drunk-thirty,” Tom added with a chuckle.

  Billy handed Tom a case of booze and shook his head. “Almost funny, Tom. Keep at it, though; maybe someday you can open our act with your witty repartee.”

  Tom raised an eyebrow at Billy. “You’re just fucking with me, right?”

  Billy laughed. “The powers of observation are keen in this one.”

  As the band made their way to the door, it swung open to reveal a beaming Toque. “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. Looks like you’ve hit the motherload.”

  “This haul do us for Friday night?” asked Kitty.

  Toque took in the boxes one by one. After a growling harumph, he said, “Might have to water it down a bit, but I think it can be stretched enough.” He held the door as each member made their way back into The Last Casket.

  Once every box had been delivered, Toque started unboxing the bottles and addressed the band. “I have an idea. This chaos is eventually going to drain every bottle of booze on the planet. Should that occur, the riots will tear at the very foundation of humanity. With that in mind, I plan on going old school and brewing my own.” Toque offered up a healthy, toothy grin. “Even have a name for the stuff. What do you think of Kiss & Hell?”

  Kitty punched her fist in the air and squealed a hearty, “Hell yeah!”

  Billy nodded his head. “That, my friend, is a brilliant idea. Might even be worth a song.”

  “Or a whole album of songs,” added Todd before high-fiving Tom.

  Max looked to Toque and asked, “What method of distillation do you plan on using?”

  Toque rubbed his hands together with the slightest bit of menace. “The only one I need…a secret passed down from generation to generation in my family.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Billy added. “Sounds great to me. When do you start mixing this magic brew?”

  “That’s where the slightest bit of bad news comes in.”

  Everyone groaned. Bad news had become a part of everyday life in the apocalypse; even so, having to hear yet another piece of negativity was soul-crushing.

  “I’m going to need a couple of you to go out on another run…this time, with me.”

  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Who’s up for it?” Toque asked.

  Billy and Todd both shot their hands into the air. Toque nodded to each and said, “No time like the present. Hit the can, load yer gut, and let’s roll.”

  Both men complied. Within minutes, they were piled into the truck and heading off on yet another supply run.

  “You know what you need, Toque?” asked Billy.

  “I do, I do. We’re looking to score a clean fifty gallon drum, some copper tubing, and a radiator from a car or truck…either one.”

  Billy chuckled. “And that list of junk will brew your magic ale?”

  “It will. It’s the same design as my dad used…which was the same as his dad worked with. It’s not fancy, but it brews like a champ. Just you wait there, Mr. Bat. In a day or two, you’ll be sipping Kiss & Hell like it’s mana from the gods.”

  Todd did his best air guitar before Billy slapped his hands down.

  “Dude, real guitarists don’t air guitar. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

  Todd shrugged off Billy and switched instruments.

  “Air bass?” Billy asked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed anything so sad. Do I even know you, Flash?”

  “By the way, boys,” Toque started, “While we’re out, I need to make a quick pit stop to pick up some more meat. It’s been on my ‘dangerously low’ check list for some time now. I don’t think it’s something we should run out of. Agreed?”

  Both Billy and Todd nodded anxiously.

  “If it keeps us in burgers,” Billy said, “you could drive us across the country, and we wouldn’t mind.”

  “That it will,” Toque replied. “Do be aware that we’ll be heading directly into a part of town less than welcoming to new faces.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Billy chanted. “What exactly do you mean by less than welcoming?”

  “Hard to predict,” responded Toque.

  “Give it a go,” Billy insisted.

  “My last supplier, as you may remember, was another bar owner. He was partially responsible for the area being overrun by Screamers.”

  “We were there, remember?” asked Billy with a full-on snark.

  “I do, Mr. Bat. After that little incident, the whole lot of my suppliers have formed a pseudo-union…so any unfamiliar face is treated with extreme caution and distrust. You must earn that trust, and do so very quickly. These suppliers know and respect me. I cannot afford to let slip their trust.”

  “What are you saying, Toque?” Todd asked.

  Toque gave Billy and Todd a stare-down they’d never forget. “When we reach my supplier, the two of you will have to stow yourselves away.”

  Billy nodded. “Whatever you need, man.”

  With that, Toque punched the gas, and the old truck lurched forward. Billy reached out for the radio. Toque grabbed his hand. “You sure you wanna do that?”

  “Listen to some music? Of course I am.”

  “You know damn well it’s not always music that bounces those speakers on their framework.”

  “You mean commercials?” Todd asked.

  Toque shook his head slowly.

  “Then what?” Todd added.

  Billy ignored the warning, jerked his hand free, and powered on the radio. An all-too-familiar voice sounded off.

  You’re listening to WZMB, Zombie Radio; your personal sound…track, to the end of the world. That was The Devin Townsend Project and his massively epic prog rock anthem…“Kingdom”. Listen, my loverly ladies and gentlefreaks, we are all living in a kingdom of our own design. Whether that kingdom is within the mind or within the blanket fort you’ve constructed in your basement…there we dwell. Hopefully you’ve all surrounded yourselves with those sufferable lovelies that bring even the slightest bit of joy to the apocalypse. If not, my friends…you’re doing all of this wrong. Should that be the case, I highly recommend you making a fast exit from your current situation and seeking out those freaks which you can hang your hat on. Otherwise, you’ll lose your mind…that I promise. Of course, if you happen to be wondering if your DJ is advocating that people should bail on their current situation, simply because they cannot wave their freak flag hard and high enough to warrant the USDRA of funk…think again, my sweets. What I’m truly saying is that you’re all going to have to bite the bullet and get the fuck along. Otherwise, the meat of our souls is raw and we cannot hope to survive this punch to the throat. Don’t get me wrong, I want each and every one of you to stand up and shout to the heavens how proud you are that you’ve survived the nightmare and done so in pure freakish style. But for the moment, let’s all set aside our differences, grab a guitar, and play a rousing rendition of Koom by fucking yah. And no, Zombie Radio Nation, I do not plan on segueing into that ‘70s par
ty favor of a song. In fact, I’m going to play you a fun little romper stomper from the nineties by that quirk-pop band, They Might Be Giants. The song is called “How Can I Sing Like A Girl”. Let’s all dance like everyone’s watching and expecting something straight out of a William S. Burroughs novel. What does that mean? How in the hell should I know…just dance, my monkeys, just dance.

  The song shot out of the speakers with surprising force. Billy turned it up and thrashed about in the cab. Before Todd could join him, Toque turned off the radio and sucked the fun from the moment.

  Billy glared at Toque and shook his head. “Why do you hate joy, Toque?”

  “Because, at the moment, joy and life are mutually exclusive. Trust me, once this virus is cured, I’ll be joying it up and down the street like you boys have never before witnessed. I’ll spread so much glee it’ll probably make you sick.”

  Billy tossed a sidelong glance at Todd. “Did that just make you a little sick?”

  Todd responded with, “It made me die a bit inside.”

  The truck came to a slow halt. Toque nodded toward the windshield at a dilapidated shed of a building, mostly rust, weathered cement, and wire.

  Billy stared ahead. “What? I don’t see anything. Where’s the warehouse…or whatever is supposed to be holding all your supplies?”

  Toque continued staring. “I never said there was a warehouse. Nope…this is all we need. Besides, if what we need doesn’t exist inside that building, we can always disassemble the building for scrap and make what we need. Personally, I’d rather leave that for the pros…so let’s hope what we need is within those walls.”

  The three men exited the truck and slowly approached the cracked and broken entrance of the building. Toque raised his hand to stop Billy and Todd from approaching. From his boot, Toque withdrew a polished bowie knife; a glint of sun bounced off the shining steel as he raised it into an attack position. Toque reached out with his free hand and grabbed the doorknob. With a slow-motion turn, the latching mechanism clicked, and the door swung free on B-movie hinges.

  “Shit, Toque,” Billy whispered. “That fucking door’ll wake the dead.”

  Toque turned to Billy, eyes wide and brow furrowed. “No more than your voice. Keep it quiet, will ya?”