by Wallen, Jack
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 Toque, we have to leave as soon as possible…at least while it’s still very much light outside. Kitty, give Toque 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 Toque’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.”
“We’ve got something better than information,” Billy proclaimed, and waved for Kitty to step forward. “That song you were singing…how well do you know it?”
The woman laughed. “Like it was my own child. Why do you ask?”
Billy turned to Kitty and, with a wicked smile, nodded. Without a word spoken between them, Kitty
belted out the first verse and chorus of “Dancing With The Devil”. The woman’s stoic countenance shifted first into curiosity and then joy. She inched her way toward Kitty. “You can’t be…”
Kitty sang as the woman approached.
“Oh, my God, you are!” she shouted, and rushed Kitty.
Billy jumped to the rescue of Kitty. He leaped before her to prevent the stranger from reaching the singer. “That’s close enough, lady.”
The woman raised her hands and backed off. “I’m terribly sorry. I’m such a huge fan of yours. Your music is the thing that keeps us keeping on. We’d heard rumors that you guys had landed in this area, but we’ve yet to make it far enough beyond this point to locate you.”
“How long have you been here?” Billy asked.
“We’ve been holing up in this sewer for…dear Lord, I’ve lost track of time. I don’t even know what day of the week it is; not that it matters, I guess. What day is it? My name’s Gracie, by the way.”
Kitty held out her hand to Gracie. “My name is Kitty Casket. This is Billy the Bat, and over there you’ll find Todd Flash, Tom Mooner, and Max van Angst.”
Gracie waved away the introductions as unnecessary, until Kitty got to Max. “New drummer?” the woman asked.
Kitty’s face fell. “You know how it goes these days.”
Gracie nodded sympathetically. “I’m so sorry–”
Billy scratched his head. “I hate to cut the cord on this cordial moment, but we’re kind of in a hurry. We’ve been chasing down this guy in a beat-down Chevy. Tall, skinny bastard…looks like just about any given redneck.”
Gracie shook her head slowly. “Sorry, Billy, I haven’t seen anyone other than…” Gracie’s eyes went wide and her mouth sealed tight.
“What is it?” Billy asked softly.
“Moaners,” Gracie whispered.
“I don’t hear anything,” Billy replied in kind.
Gracie tapped her nose. Kitty sucked in a deep breath and winced. “Holy shit, that is foul.”
“There’s a big group of the sons a bitches that’ve been shambling around this area for a while now. There’s too many of them for us to take out. Maybe with your help…”
Billy tossed up his hands. “No. We aren’t…”
Kitty interrupted. “Of course we’ll help in any way we can.”
Before Billy could register a complaint, Kitty shot him the look. Billy immediately fell silent, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed.
Max cruised into the scene, hand raised in the air. “If I may?”
Kitty nodded.
Max spoke calmly. “Why don’t we just lure the bastards away from here? That would at least buy you some time, and no one has to risk life, limb, or worse.”
Billy nodded. “Damn good idea, Max.”
Tears rolled down Gracie’s dry, weathered cheeks. “You would do that for us?”
Kitty took Gracie’s hand in hers. “Only if you promise to do your best and make it to The Last Casket. I want to see your lovely face in the audience when we rock out our horror punk jams.”
Gracie drew Kitty into a hug. “You can count on it.”
Billy took over the moment. “Okay, here’s how this works. Gracie, you do whatever you can to hide your group out of sight. We’ll point the truck away from this sewer and do everything we can to draw the Moaners away. Don’t come out of hiding until you are absolutely sure the fuckers are gone. Do you understand?”
Gracie nodded.
Kitty looked deep into Gracie’s tired eyes. “Promise me you’ll stay safe and find us.”
Gracie silently agreed.
“And if you happen to run into that stranger, do not engage him. He’s dangerous.”
Kitty turned to Billy and then sprinted off toward the truck. The band followed suit and, once all were on board, Todd turned over the ignition and slowly backed his way out of the sewer.
“Oh, son of a bitch,” Billy hissed. “Would ya look at the size of that goddamn horde?”
On a grassy rise, a gathering of twenty plus zombies stood…swaying and moaning in an out-of-synch, slow motion, absurdist tribute to Thriller.
“I’m so fucking tired of zombies,” Todd whispered, and then turned to Billy. “I’d rather make out with your face than see another one of those jacked-up bastards. Ideas?”
Without a word, Billy reached across Kitty and slammed the palm of his hand into the horn. The obnoxious, old-school wail immediately caught the attention of the gathering. “Damn it, I wish we had the Kitty Mobile. We could blast some tunes and rock and roll those grave dancers out of town.”
Kitty grinned wide and nudged Billy. “Let me out.”
“What? No. Why?” Billy asked.
“Oh, get your panties out of a bunch, Bat. I’m going to hop into the back of the truck so me and the boys can sing for our supper.”
Billy opened his mouth to protest. Kitty shut him down with a raised, fine-point eyebrow. Without another word, Billy capitulated, opened the door, hopped out of the truck, and gestured for his queen to exit the chariot.
Kitty hopped into the bed of the truck. “Okay boys, I hope you feel like singing.”
“What? No,” Tom complained. “I’m the fucking bass player. I don’t sing.”
“You do for now, Mr. Mooner.” Kitty elbowed Tom in the gut. “You do for now.”
“Name the song, Miss Cat,” Angst said with a fiery passion.
“‘Yeah Yeah Yeah’. Max, count us in.”
Max clapped out a quick four-four, and the three bandmates sang at the top of their lungs.
Another journey’s yet to begin
Long lost roads to drive
No matter how long the way
We’re in, we’re ready to jive
My bags are packed
And I’m ready to go
Let me know the pick-up time
And we’re good to go
Oh, here we come your way
We come to raise some hell
Dancing in the moonlight
Rocking ‘til the end of the night
Oh, here we come your way
We come to raise some hell
Nothing’s gonna stop us
This is going down tonight
The Moaners bumbled and stumbled down the embankment…half of them falling awkwardly to their knees and rolling like flailing puppets down the hill. The chaos brigade continued on, drawing near the truck.
“Wait until they get ten yards away and then drive off,” Billy instructed. “Keep the speed down, so we’re always within hearing range.” Billy slammed his hand down on the outside of the door. “Hell yeah, bastards. We’ve got the freshest fucking meat on the market…yeah, yeah, yeah!”
The trio in the back of the truck continued singing.
Endless cities, countless faces
So many different places
Some of them you don’t wanna let go
We don’t have a choice, but we have to
We don’t only do it for you
We just love what we do
We’re living our dream
And we wanna thank you
We don’t want the good times to end
Drinking with all of my friends
Music day in and out
That I can’t live without
The twitchy gang continued the death march after the truck. The truck-bed chorus picked up with another Kitty In A Casket tune to pied-piper the beasts into the open road.
“How long are we going to do this?” Todd shouted above the din.
“No idea, Flash. I guess until they lose interest in the sewer gang.”
The apocalypse parade continued on. Kitty sang loud and proud and, every so often, Todd would punch the horn when interest in the truck would wane. They reached the edge of yet another ghost town that looked to be the perfect spot to drop off the monster squad when the sound of hate rattled the cage of the truck.
“Oh, fuck no.” Billy said, fear choking his voice.
/>
Kitty peeked her head through the cab window. “Was that…”
The sound of screaming returned, this time closer.
“Screamers.” Billy and Todd spoke in unison.
Kitty reached through the window, grabbed a handful of Billy’s shirt, and drew him to the glass. “What do we do, Billy?”
“I…” Billy stalled out, his gaze darting about in search of some semblance of an answer. “We let the Screamers get close enough to pick up the scent of the Moaners. Just before they get within striking distance, we race off into the distance.”
“Good thinking, cowboy. Only problem with that plan is, Screamers are fucking faster than this piece of shit truck!” Todd’s voice wound up, pegging eleven.
“Don’t punch it ‘til you see the sour milk whites of their eyes,” Kitty added.
“Good call. The second I see those creeptards, I’m gunning this bitch straight for the horizon,” Todd responded, squeezing the wheel with a white-knuckled grip.
From multiple directions, the hell-born sounds of screams rose, loud enough to kick-start everyone’s pulse. Todd raced the engine of the truck; the chassis twisted under the raw power of the V8 engine. From behind, Kitty and company belted out “Fire And Ice” in their native German.
Wir laufen und laufen,
Doch es ist Zeit stillzustehen
Es liegt an uns wir müssen uns umdrehen
Angesicht zu Angesicht
Dem Feind ins Auge sehen
Auch wenn wir den Sinn dahinter nie verstehen
Alles auf Angriff, kein Weg vorbei
Doch bei uns zweien kann ich mir sicher sein
Wie Pech und Schwefel
Durch Feuer und Eis
Ich bin an deiner Seite
Bin das was bleibt
Und stehen wir auch vorm letzten Gericht
