Kiss & Hell (The Last Casket Book 2)

by Wallen, Jack

  “So what…you think it’s okay to serve us zombie meat?” Billy asked.

  Todd waved his hands in the air. “Hold on, Billy. We don’t know that for sure.”

  “No, Mr. Flash,” Toque said quietly, “Billy’s right. The meat I’ve been serving is the only meat available. But don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe for consumption. Low level radiation exposure destroyed the virus.”

  “I don’t care if it’s safe or not, you’ve been feeding us people,” Billy cried out.

  “No. Not people, Mr. Bat.” Toque’s voice was riddled with a dark tension. “The second you turn, all humanity is stripped from existence. Those are monsters, pure and simple. If you don’t kill them, they will kill—and eat—you. Besides…” Toque’s voice drifted into a ghostly silence.

  “What, Toque?” Billy asked.

  “There’s little else to eat. We live in a barren desert, so we can’t just plant a garden as easily as we’d like. You’re right, there are no cows, pigs, chickens, goats…nothing. The only livestock available to us is of the undead type. Like it or not, it’s the new world order, and you’ve gotta think greater good and realize not a good goddamn thing is black and white now. We eat, we survive. We survive, we very well may live to see this plague eradicated. I want that, and am willing to do whatever it takes.”

  Toque slowed the truck until it came to a gentle stop. With masterful command over his patience, he shifted into park and turned on Billy and Todd. “You cannot tell anyone what you know. I’m only trying to keep people alive in the best way I can. If anyone finds out what they’ve been eating—safe or not—they’ll lose their minds, and the resultant chaos will be an unstoppable force. So long as the customers think they are consuming the great and sacred cow, everything will be fine. You may not like the idea of eating the undead, but I would venture a guess that dining on zombie is far more appealing than the alternative.”

  Billy and Todd stared cluelessly at Toque, who tilted his head in his best James Spader and said, “Death.”

  four | hello tall, dark, and strange

  Elsewhere, on a strip of lonely desert highway, a rusted Chevy with a raging engine under a hood adorned with the Kitty In A Casket logo and the words Red Sweet Red sliced through the pitch-black evening. A rooster-tail of dust kicked up behind the oversized rear tires, and the dual exhausts roared a monstrous cry into the night. Within the cab, through buzzing, torn speakers spilled the sounds of “Moonlight Massacre”. In a deep, gravelly baritone, the driver wailed along, slightly off pitch, with Kitty.

  Love is a lie you can’t deny

  That’s the reason why all my boyfriends die

  I’m a mutant zombie girl from another gruesome world

  Crawl out night by night (ohh)

  Try to find love of my life world’s as sharp as a knife

  Now I go insane,

  Hungry for love and sick of pain I, I need to eat brain

  As the chorus kicked in, the stranger punched the gas, and the Chevy sang along. He hammered his hands against the steering wheel to the beat of the Casket’s drum. As the song came to an end, the stranger howled a joyous cry to the full moon that hung its hat on the night.

  “Fuck yeah!” he shouted. “Horror punk sent from Heaven above. The purest sound, sung from the lips of an angel. Let’s have another.”

  The stranger smashed his dirty, weathered finger against the forward button on the disk player until “Monster Highschool Party” kicked in. In perfect timing with the opening verse, his stomach lurched. He slammed on the brakes and folded over the steering wheel.

  “Son of a bitch.” His hand reached across the tattered bench seat and into a grease-stained, army-issue backpack…only to come up empty. “Fuck!” he shouted as his stomach twisted in upon itself to ensure he knew, full-well, he was dangerously close to starvation. When he glanced back up, an oasis rose from the dust-bowl landscape.

  “Holy shit,” he said through choked-down tears. A temporary hope sprang from the usual nihilism that filled his days and nights. He punched the gas one more time and steered his metal and rust beast toward the convenience store whose sign held the promise of Stop ‘N Chug.

  “I could use a chug right about now.” He released a high-pitched laugh as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. “Could use a tug as well. Maybe even a drug and a plug.” More laughter filled the Chevy’s cab as he rocked in his seat like a too-excited kid about to piss his Osh Kosh B’Gosh.

  The car skidded to a halt and kicked up a wall of brown dust that camouflaged the store against the desert skyline. The stranger hopped out of the car and waited for the dirt curtain to fall.

  Once clear, he marched to the door, wrapped his calloused fingers around the handle, and pulled hard enough to threaten the integrity of the hinges. A cowbell rang loudly against the movement to send the stranger into a defensive posture straight out of a bad American kung fu film.

  The inside of the store was a looter’s afterbirth. Barren shelves wept against dingy walls. Refrigerated coolers stood silent and warm. The floor was stained and smeared with the remains of something that had once been alive.

  “Ain’t got nothin’. No gas, no food, no drink, no money. May as well turn around and go on your way.”

  The stranger ignored the old man’s proclamation and stomped his way to the counter. He reached into his pants pocket, withdrew a photo, and shoved it into the face of the crusty old man.

  “What? You missing someone? She your girlfriend? Those boys your…”

  Before another word spilled from the gap-toothed grin, the stranger reached across the counter, grabbed a fistful of shirt, and yanked the old man down hard. Again, the stranger shoved the picture in the old man’s face.

  “You lookin’ for them kids? You don’t look like the type that’d be…what in the hell could they have done to you? Owe you money? If that’s the case, it’s the goddamn apocalypse, money’s not worth this.”

  The stranger pulled the old man upwards, toward his face. When their gazes met, the old man’s eyes went wide. “You ain’t up to no good, are you?”

  The stranger slammed the old man’s head against the counter and then shoved the photo back into his line of sight. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and grave. “Where are they?”

  “How in the hell should I know that?” the old man answered.

  Again, the stranger slammed the old man’s head against the counter.

  “You want information, it’ll cost ya. It’s the only thing of value I’ve got anyway. You give me something of worth and I’ll treat you to the whereabouts of those kids.”

  The stranger released the old man and reached into his pocket.

  “If it’s money you’re thinking of offering up as payment, forget about it. Money’s worthless now.”

  Instead of withdrawing money from his pocket, a glinting steel blade was removed. The stranger unfolded the knife with the click of a button and, in a blindingly fast move, had the sharpened blade against the throat of the old man. The man behind the counter shot his hands into the air.

  Again, the stranger forced the photo into the old man’s line of sight.

  “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll tell ya. But you gotta promise no harm will come to those kids.”

  The stranger inched the knife away from the old man and nodded.

  “You’ll find them at Toque’s bar. He calls it The Last Casket. Those kids play their crazy rock and roll music every Friday night. I hear tell they’re really good at what they do.”

  The stranger snatched up a pad of paper and a pen and shoved both in front of the old man.

  “What?” the old man asked, his voice shuddering from fear.

  The stranger poked his beefy finger at the paper and then toward the exit.

  “You want directions to the Casket?”

  The stranger nodded intently, and the old man took up the pen and chicken-scratched directions onto the paper. He scrawled the last word and nervously slid the pad of paper back to
the stranger. The tall, dark man glanced over the directions. With a quick nod, he cocked his arm and sent the blade of the knife into the old man’s right eye. The newly ordained cyclops did a quick wacky pop dance and dropped, lifeless, to the floor.

  It took the stranger no time to locate a small cache of non-perishable food stuffs. Cans of beans, chocolate bars, peanut butter…a mixed bag that would at least sustain him until the storm blew over.

  The cowbell rang behind the stranger as he exited the Stop ‘N Chug. Like a poster child for the post-apocalyptic cowboy society, he strutted across the parking lot to his Chevy.

  Back inside the black comfort of the car, he brought the engine to life and roared away from the convenience store and toward The Last Casket.

  five | that’s good human

  The back half of the kitchen had been converted into a mad scientist’s wet dream come true. Copper pipes raced about with little apparent logic or flow. The hissing of steam permeated the air.

  Toque stood among his steampunk’d creation like he was about to launch into a time machine and travel to far-off lands, where humans and windup dolls danced to the same tunes. His hair nearly stood on end, his wild eyes were covered in green-glass goggles, and his face registered a permanent “oh shit” expression. Even so, he waited at the end of the still with a mason jar in hand. A scream of a whistle sounded off and a jet of thick steam launched itself from the mouth of certain madness.

  The machine was ready to bear fruit.

  Toque held the glass, with rock-steady nerves, underneath the open end of a of copper tube. A single drip fell from the conduit. That one drip was followed by another, and another…until said drip had evolved into a smooth and steady flow. With monk-like patience, Toque waited for the glass to fill. Before it reached the rim, he had a large glass beaker in hand and switched beaker for glass without losing a single drop of the liquid love.

  He turned to the band, raised the glass high, and said, “Prost!” before tipping the amber fluid to his lips. He took in a small drink and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing.

  A languid grin spread wide across his lips and was eventually released with a joyous sigh.

  “Sweet Jesus, I do believe God himself pissed in this cup.”

  Kitty shrank away, her face scrunched tight against the vile image that ran rampant in her mind’s eye.

  Toque filled the glass again, only this time he handed it off to Kitty. With a concerned glance, Kitty made sure to check Billy’s mental whereabouts. As soon as she knew he was there in body and mind, she tipped the glass up against her lips and pulled down the whole draught before anyone could stop her.

  “Holy shit,” Kitty nearly exploded. “That’s good booze, Toque. You’ve done your father proud. The only thing this needs is one of your famous burgers. What do ya say? Care to fire up the grill?”

  Todd and Billy shot cautious glances at one another.

  Todd leaned into Billy and said, “We gotta tell her, man.”

  Billy elbowed Todd in the ribs. “Like hell we do. If she finds out what’s in that meat, she’ll fry up Toque steaks and serve him alongside a Todd and Billy salad. I fucking hate kale.”

  “I don’t care, Billy. Kitty deserves to know,” Todd whispered into Billy’s ear.

  Billy weighed the options. He glanced over to Kitty; her radiant smile shamed the light emanating from the six-foot fluorescent strips hanging against the bas relief ceiling. He forced a deep breath into his tight chest and said, “Kitty, can we see you in the bar? We want to go over the set list for the show.”

  Kitty glanced at Toque, who winked and nodded.

  “Sure, boys.” Kitty turned back to Toque. “I want that burger cooked rare. Make sure I can still smell the blood on that beast.”

  Toque offered a half-hearted grin, nodded, and grabbed the top container holding the zombeef.

  Out in the bar, Billy and Todd sat on opposite sides of a round table. Billy pulled a third chair out and gestured for Kitty to join them. She sat in a pool of silence.

  “What’s up, boys? Kitty got your tongue?” She winked at Billy and let a flirtatious purr spill from her lips.

  Billy traced a finger along Kitty’s jaw line and poked the tip of her nose. Kitty pulled back, her eyes narrowed. “I know that little finger boop to the nose all too well. Something’s going down. What’s up, guys?”

  “Uhhhh….” Todd mumbled, and fell back to silence.

  “What he’s trying to…” Billy followed suit.

  Kitty touched the tips of her fingers to the table and pushed herself to standing. “Well, boys, if the kitty has got your tongues, I’m going to retire back to the kitchen and enjoy a bloody burger.”

  Billy placed his hand over Kitty’s. “About that…”

  Kitty lowered herself back to seated in a grace-filled wonder of slow motion—all the while, her eyes locked on Billy’s. “You have my undivided attention…for about two minutes, at which point there will be meat in my mouth.”

  “About that…” Todd added.

  “Okay, I’m starting to see a trend here, you two. What the hell’s going on?”

  Billy drew in a lung-filling breath and blew it out like a tea kettle about to erupt. “That meat Toque’s been serving…it’s not…it’s not beef.”

  Kitty closed her eyes and tilted her head. “Of course it is.”

  “No, Kitty, it’s not,” Todd insisted.

  “What is it, then? Pork? Turkey? It’s sure as shit not a veggie burger.”

  “It’s…” Billy hesitated.

  “Zombie!” Todd shouted. “For the love of Danzig, it’s fucking zombie meat.”

  Kitty’s eyes went saucer-wide and her mouth opened and closed in a silent-movie show of incredulity. Without warning, Kitty screamed at the top of her lungs. The sound rattled glass and threatened a life or two from every cat within hearing range.

  Max, Tom, and Toque rushed into the room.

  “What gives?” Max van Angst was the first to ask.

  Kitty stood, her hands pumping into and out of fists…ready for action. She turned on her heels and faced Toque. “What have you done?” she demanded.

  Toque wiped streaks of blood onto his already-stained apron. “I was just cooking your…”

  “Zombie meat, you bastard madman,” Kitty’s voice erupted.

  Toque tensed and crossed his arms over his chest. He tossed a glance toward Billy and Todd.

  Simultaneously, Toque shouted to Billy and Todd while Kitty screamed at Toque: “I trusted you!”

  Toque turned to Kitty. “And you still…”

  “Shut up.” Kitty slammed a fist onto the table. “You’ve turned us all into cannibals.”

  Toque stood up straight. “No, Kitty. What I’ve done is turn you into survivors. Had you not eaten those burgers, you would have perished weeks ago.”

  “At what cost, Toque? What about the virus?”

  Toque took a step toward Kitty. She backed up, which caused Toque to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender. When he spoke, his voice was his usual, calming smooth. “The meat’s decontaminated—my supplier takes care of that; it just takes a microwave to do it.”

  “And you trust this supplier?” Kitty demanded.

  A shadow of doubt lingered momentarily in Toque’s eyes. “If I didn’t, I would never serve it to you or the band, much less eat it myself.”

  “Even if it’s safe physically,” Kitty pressed, “did you ever consider how we’d feel if we knew we were eating…people? Soylent Green and all.”

  “How do you feel, Kitty?”

  “Insane,” Kitty replied.

  “Literally?” asked Toque.

  Kitty shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “What I mean is, do you literally feel insane…as in I should search out a psychiatrist that can prescribe medications for you?”

  “No, Toque. I mean this whole situation is crazy.”

  Toque took another cautious step toward Kitty. “Inde
ed it is crazy, Kitty. But the madness radiates well beyond this particular moment. We are all living in dangerous and devastating times. Everyone has to be willing to do whatever it takes, in order to survive. If we do not survive, humankind dies out. I don’t know about you, but I refuse to be the one who helped usher in the extinction of man and woman.”

  For the briefest pause, Kitty allowed herself to get caught up in Toque’s rhetoric. When she snapped out of the spell, tears streamed down her cheeks. “No, Toque, no. We cannot become those people. I will not succumb to the primal. I can’t…”

  “I’m not asking you to go full-on cave-woman, Kitty. You have to understand those zombies are not human. They may as well be wild boar to you and me. We are no longer seated atop the food chain, young woman. We are the prey, and those animals will not hesitate to eat you from the inside out. A process has been developed to rid the flesh of the virus…and with so much of this resource available, we’ll be able to sustain ourselves for some time. The alternative is death.” Toque inched his way up to Kitty. “I’ll ask you again…how do you feel?”

  Kitty opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t. Her gaze spiraled downward and she deflated herself with a sigh. “I feel fine.”

  “We may have considered human flesh a forbidden fruit at one point…but that point is long gone. The new world order insists we follow a much updated moral compass. That doesn’t, however, mean we’re doomed for damnation.”

  Silence.

  “Kitty, I swear to you…I would never put you or your band in harm’s way. Ever. Period. Each and every one of you is precious cargo to me. It is unconscionable that I would consider bringing harm to this group. You have to understand, Kitty…I’m trying to keep you alive in the only way I know. You may think it mad…you may even be utterly repulsed at the idea of eating meat that was, at one time, sentient humans. If that’s the case, I am profoundly sorry. If there is anything I can do to right this wrong, just say the word. In the meantime, I am going to return to the kitchen and finish grilling burgers for anyone that would care to join me.”