Kiss & Hell (The Last Casket Book 2)

by Wallen, Jack

  “Oh, God, no; I’m just starting.”

  “As I’d expected. If you don’t mind, I’d much rather spend our time rescuing Kitty. So park the sophomoric antics and the vehicle out of sight so we can formulate a plan.”

  Billy eased the truck away from the parking lot and into a narrow space of concrete on the side of the building. He’d cut the lights of the van so as to avoid being spotted. When darkness engulfed the moment, the vehicle slowed to a stop. He shifted into park, cut the engine, and turned to Toque. “What’s the plan?”

  Toque hesitated. Thought danced just behind the void of his pupils. “The plan is…we sneak into that building and rescue Kitty.”

  “That’s it?” Tom Mooner crooned. “Even I could have come up with a better plan than that.”

  Toque turned back to the rear of the van and said, “Have at it, young man. Tell us…what do we do?”

  Tom gazed around the van…doing his best not to make eye contact with anyone. “I got nothin’.”

  “That’s what I thought,” answered Toque.

  Billy opened the driver’s side door. Toque grabbed his arm and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Something. Anything,” Billy responded. “We can’t save Kitty sitting out here on our asses.”

  Toque nodded. “Fair point.”

  One by one, the men exited the van and gathered at its rear.

  “How do we know she’s here?” Max asked.

  “We don’t,” Toque replied, his voice too calm. “Not until we venture inside.” Without uttering another word, Toque walked off to the front side of the building. Billy quickly followed, catching up with the elder man in a few overlong strides.

  They turned the corner to see two large men exit the building. The first said in a huff, “One of these days, I’m going to cave that motherfucker’s skull in.”

  “Sure you are, Francis. Then what will you do for employment?”

  The man named Francis replied, “It’s the goddamn apocalypse. Who needs employment? This is no longer a capitalist democracy. We now live in an anarcho-syndicalism. We the people have rebelled against the more perfect union and are set to overcome the decades-long repression that has held the middle class under a wave of one-percenter shit.”

  The second man stopped and scratched his head. “I have no fucking idea what you’re saying.”

  “Education, dillweed…that’s what I’m talking about. Ignorance is not bliss…it’s the quickest route to living a powerless existence.” Francis tapped his head. “You can’t work the system until you understand the system. I get it…how to both grease and break the cogs in the machine.”

  “Jesus Christ, Francis. We’re just the hired muscle.”

  Toque motioned for Billy to slip back around the building. As they shuffle-stepped their way out of sight, Billy’s foot connected with a piece of steel pipe. The metallic rattle was thunderous in the silent landscape of night. The two men spotted the rebels and gave chase.

  “Go!” Billy hissed at Toque, making sure to place himself between the goons and the elder statesman of The Last Casket.

  Toque and Billy slipped the bonds of sight and rushed the others back to the van. The sounds of clomping footsteps rose just before the first of Mud’s thugs shouted, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Billy glanced at Toque to see him reach into the small of his back and slip a pistol from between flesh and cloth. Like a striking cobra, Toque’s arm sprang forward to level the weapon on the burly men.

  “Take another step, and I will ruin those pretty faces of yours,” Toque threatened.

  The nearest man laughed. “That’s not gonna happen and you…”

  Toque pulled off a shot that grazed the man’s left earlobe. “You were saying?”

  “Fuck!” the man shouted. “You crazy bastard.”

  Toque spat, “I may be crazy, but I’m the one holding the gun. If you two continue moving forward, it might be wise to redefine your idea of crazy.”

  “What are you doing here, old man?” the unwounded goon asked.

  “I’d say that’s none of your damn business. The real question is, what are you doing here?”

  Both men fell silent.

  “By my estimation,” Toque started, “your being here means but one thing—that you’re aiding and abetting a criminal.”

  “How do you figure? Maybe we’re just here for the shelter,” the larger of the two man said, his voice smooth and deep.

  Toque replied, “Hired mugs like you aren’t intelligent enough to hang out together. You tend to surround yourself with lesser men. I believe it would have something to do with the relativistic nature of ego.”

  Francis shook his head. “If we’re talking Freud here, you cannot ignore the Id. Our basic needs are survival. Together, he and I…”

  Toque fired off another shot, this time grazing the Francis’ right foot. The man roared his disapproval and lunged at Toque.

  From his periphery, Toque saw a piece of two-by-four swing through the air and connect with the side of the raging bull’s head.

  Francis went down without so much as a complaint.

  The plank of wood dropped from Billy’s hands.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bat. That was much appreciated,” Toque said, leveling the pistol at the second man. “I believe, if we were playing chess, that would be check.”

  “Shoot him, Toque,” Billy hissed.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Bat.”

  “How the fuck do you know?” asked Billy.

  Toque nodded toward the now-trembling man. “He’s currently pissing himself. I cannot imagine a grown man in such a state is of much danger.”

  Before Billy could offer a response, the sounds of doom spilled from the surrounding, velvety blackness.

  “Goddamn it!” Billy whispered. “We can’t catch a break.”

  “You gotta let me go, man,” the second goon said in panic.

  Toque stepped forward and waved the pistol at the man. “Turn around.”

  “Just let me go.” The man’s voice quavered. “I swear you’ll never see me again.”

  “Turn around, or you will never see you again,” Toque demanded.

  The hired muscle turned.

  The stench of piss wafted into the air.

  Toque pressed the barrel of the weapon between the man’s shoulder blades. “Lead us into the building and to Kitty.”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” the man cried out.

  Toque cocked the hammer of the gun. “I will tell you once more. If you refuse, it will be your last living moment on this planet. Take us…”

  “Okay!” the goon interrupted, his voice skyrocketing into the range of desperation. He took a single step forward before Toque grabbed the collar of his shirt and stopped him in his tracks.

  “Let’s go, boys,” Toque called out to the band. “We’ve got a Kitty to rescue.”

  The symphony of Moaners sounded off again, their collective tones rising and falling as if guided by some artistic intention.

  “I don’t see any zombies,” Tom whispered.

  “Judging from the sound, they’re a few blocks away,” Max said.

  “How in the fuck do you–” Todd started. “Never mind. I don’t care to know, as long as you’re right.”

  “I’m right,” Max replied.

  The stranger slowly led the group toward the front entrance. Billy caught up to Toque and whispered, “Are you sure this is a good idea? Going in through the front door? We might as well announce our arrival with a song.”

  Toque moved the barrel of the gun to the back of the man’s head. “Are there any other entrances to the building?”

  “How the fuck would I know?”

  “Bang, bang…you’re dead,” Toque whispered into the man’s ear.

  “I swear to God, I have no idea. We only ever entered through those doors.”

  Todd Flash stepped away from the group. “I’ll go check the roof.”

&n
bsp; Toque turned to Todd. “Wait. We can’t be sure…”

  Toque’s voice fell short as Todd raced off, back around to the side of the building.

  Billy turned to Max. “Follow him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything…Flashy.”

  Max nodded and raced off into the darkness.

  “Are you sure that was a good idea?” Tom asked. “We’re easily outnumbered now.”

  A distant, haunting moan punched Tom’s point home. The living quintet fell silent as the whole undead chorus rose again.

  The sound of slapping footfalls broke the silence of the living. Todd’s voice quickly followed. “There’s a back door; it’s locked. We also found a ladder that leads to the roof, but there’s no way in from there.”

  Max appeared, sucking wind as if he’d been overcome by an epic case of bronchitis. “Fuck me square in the eye, man. How’d a rhythm guitarist get so fast?”

  “A lifetime of chasing chicks, my friend,” Todd answered with a wicked grin.

  “And failing,” Billy added in jest.

  “Well, boys, looks like we crash the party from the front,” Toque announced, and forced his weapon back into the fleshy head of the goon. “Walk.”

  Slowly, the gang approached the entrance, their cautious steps punctuated with the moans of the damned. When they reached their destination, Toque gestured for Billy to open the door.

  Toque nudged the stranger through and stepped in close behind him. “Say a word, and it will be your last,” Toque whispered in the man’s ear.

  Billy was the last to enter. He eased the door to silent closure and caught up with the group.

  “Lead us to him,” Toque said under his breath. The goon nodded and continued moving forward.

  A set of double doors awaited them. Toque once again nodded to Billy, who immediately wrapped his fingers around the right side door. Toque held up his hand to halt the entrance. As they stood silent, the sound of Kitty’s muffled voice spilled through the cracks and into the longing ears of her friends.

  Billy tensed.

  Toque sensed the shift in emotion and slowly shook his head. The second Billy’s breath eased, Toque raised his free hand and counted down from…

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  Billy jerked the door open, and Toque pushed the goon through.

  “Mud!” the man shouted as he tumbled to the aisle floor.

  “Billy!” Kitty cried out.

  Mud turned on his heels, took in a deep breath, and hissed, “Toque. We meet again.”

  “The last time I spied your hideous face, I tried to pretend it wasn’t you,” Toque spat. “I’d rather face down an army of zombies than look you in the eye.”

  Toque stepped over the goon, gun pointing directly at Mud’s chest. Billy landed a knee into the small of the goon’s back and craned one of his arms into a bone-cracking position. The man squealed in pain.

  Mud rushed to the cage containing Kitty. “One more step, and I’ll unlock these brakes. You don’t want to know what happens if…”

  Without a sound of warning, Toque pulled the trigger. A single bullet pierced the flesh and bone of Mud’s right knee.

  Mud dropped, grabbing his knee and howling in pain. As he did, he snaked his hand to the cage brake control and released the mechanism. He wailed, “What the fuck did you do, Toque? Goddamn it. We were partners, you son of a bitch.”

  Toque approached Mud, leaned down, and pressed the barrel of the pistol into the wailing man’s wound. “I don’t know you. Other than your unprovoked assault on me the other night, I’ve never seen you.”

  Mud laughed through the pain. “You’ve gone soft in the brain, old man. We ran supplies for the same…”

  Toque slammed the handle of the gun down on Mud’s forehead, pulled a set of keys from the prone man’s belt, and glanced up at Billy. “Get her out of there and lock this son of a bitch inside.”

  Billy snatched the keys from Toque and went through the ring to find a match for the lock. As he worked, the chained Moaners swatted at Billy, missing him by inches. The cage shifted until the stage left Moaner was able to snatch up a handful of Kitty’s long, brown hair. The monster gave a great tug on the locks of love and the cage rolled nearer.

  “Hurry, Billy!” Kitty squealed.

  “I’m going as fast as…” Before Billy could finish his sentence, the click of the lock sounded and the door swung open.

  The Moaner slapped a free hand downward, his fingers catching the supraorbital ridge above Kitty’s eyes. Between the tangled hair and the Moaner’s bowling ball grip, Kitty was trapped. She screamed in panic; the veins in her neck bubbled to the surface as her system was flooded with adrenaline-laced panic.

  “Toque!” Billy screamed.

  Toque glanced up and immediately understood Billy’s demand. He brought the weapon to bear on the zombie about to dine on Kitty’s most inner secrets and unleashed the beast from its fetid flesh shell.

  The second the Moaner dropped, Kitty leaped out of the cage and into Billy’s waiting arms. Billy looked back at his fellow bandmates and barked, “Get that bastard inside the cage.”

  Tom Mooner scooped up Mud and tossed him into the cage like a sack of soiled laundry. Mud’s head cracked against one of the iron bars; his body fell limp and motionless.

  Kitty landed a hot, wet kiss on Billy’s lips before he broke away from her and approached the cage. He pushed the cage within reach of the second Moaner and, one by one, Billy locked the wheels of the cage. “When that bastard wakes up, he’s going to cry like a little girl.”

  Kitty slugged Billy in the neck. “Since when did crying like a girl indicate weakness? I’ll cry like a girl and beat your ass at the same time.”

  Billy shrank away from Kitty, his arms crossed in front of his head.

  “Girls!” Toque called out. “You’re both pretty.”

  Max drew in next to Toque. “So what are we going to do with Cagey McDouche?”

  Toque clasped his hands behind his head and harrumphed. “I’m fairly certain that Moaner will do worse things than we could. I say we leave Mud’s destiny in the hands of the beast.”

  Max nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “However, because I tend to lean a bit toward the paranoid side of things…” Toque shot his upturned palm to Billy. “Keys, please.”

  Billy handed the keys over. Toque inserted the correct key into cage lock and gave it a quick turn. The sound of the locking mechanism sealing the fate of Mud seemed to echo on into some other plane of existence…one free of guilt and moral compass.

  “So that’s it?” Tom asked with incredulity.

  The second the words spilled from between his lips, the celebration was sucked from the group.

  Billy turned to the bass player. “How many times have we told you, Schleprock? Don’t jinx us!”

  “What’d I do?” Tom lofted the question out to the gang. Everyone instantly turned to him, their mouths agape and eyes wide. Tom’s arms slapped his thighs and his chin slammed into his chest. “Fuck,” Tom whispered…deflated.

  “Did I miss something?” Max asked Billy.

  Billy answered, “Tom has this uncanny ability to shower us with bad luck when he opens his mouth. He…”

  The remainder of the sentence dangled in silence, as it was cut short by a chorus of moans.

  “The door,” Tom hissed.

  Toque turned to Tom. “Did you close the entryway, Tom?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. We were all in such a hurry, I just pulled it open and raced through. If it stayed open, it wasn’t my…”

  “I closed the damn thing,” Billy hissed. “How in the fuck did it…”

  Before Billy could finish his question, the first of the Moaners entered the room. The beast looked like it’d been exhumed from a long-forgotten grave. Flesh hung from meat like tattered cloth. Half of the thing’s neck was missing, and it hobbled on a footless left leg.

  “Jesus fucking H. Christ.”
Billy barely managed to choke out his words. “The smell!”

  The room was filled with the stench of rotten eggs and putrefaction.

  Toque raised his arms to an outstretched position and addressed the group. “On the off chance I am correct, no one light a cigarette.”

  “Why not?” Todd shouted over the madness.

  Toque placed himself between the band the zombies. “Have you ever lit up one of your own farts, boy?”

  “Oh, fuck!” Todd cried out. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “No, Mr. Flash, I only wish I were. That smell could be the apocalyptic take on silent but deadly.”

  “What do we do, Toque?” Kitty asked.

  “Run!” Toque screamed.

  The gang instinctively scattered to the four corners of the room. The small horde of zombies were temporarily distracted by the scrambling meat sacks, which gave them enough time to sprint for the door.

  Toque was the last through the exit. He pulled the doors shut and raced off toward the van. He caught up and hopped into his well-earned shotgun position. He pointed forward and said, “Pull up to the entrance.” Toque then turned to the back of the van. “Someone find me a lug wrench, a crowbar, or anything strong and tubular.”

  Tom chuckled.

  “You wish, Mooner,” Billy mocked.

  “Will this work?” Kitty handed Toque a bright yellow pry bar.

  “Perfect, my dear.”

  Billy punched the gas, and the rear wheels of the van squealed their protest into the bleak night. When the van reached its destination, Billy slammed on the brakes.

  Toque hopped out, raced to the entrance of the theatre, and forced the pry bar between the handles of the doors. He pulled with all his might…the doors didn’t budge.

  Satisfied that neither Mud nor the Romero-esque ghouls weren’t going anywhere...Toque turned and made his way back to the van…his stride calm and smooth.

  “Hell yeah, Toque. You are a fucking Boy Scout.” Billy raised a devil horn salute.

  “Always prepared, bitches.” Toque returned the gesture.

  The van erupted with the sound of laughter as it drove off into the night.

  fourteen | air drums and zomburgers

  Fridays were always a special time at the Last Casket. Even in a world where daily routine had been boiled down to the simple act of survival, it was safe to assume the last day of the week was always about one thing and one thing only.