“Now,” Jules said, “I’m only gonna ask you this one last time, and if you don’t give me no answer, you ain’t gonna get no choice. I’m gonna decide for you, ya dig?”
He lay the sawed-off shotgun across his lap, next to the cane, the barrel aimed dead at his head.
“So, what’s it gonna be, Maddox Kane? Opened or—”
A sudden report of gunfire erupted from above. Everyone in the room snapped their heads toward the ceiling. Somewhere upstairs, a woman screamed.
Maddox smiled through bloodied gums.
Benny, you magnificent bastard.
* * * * *
Benny kicked in the door and pulled the trigger without even looking. The TV ahead of him exploded and the room was filled with a piercing shriek. Covering his ears, Benny looked over to the bed and spotted a woman dressed like a dominatrix screaming her lungs out, a branding iron falling to the ground. A naked man was tied to the bed beside her, ass sticking up in the air, all red and…branded. But of what? Jesus, it looked like a tiny duck smoking a cigar.
“Where the hell is Mads?” Benny asked. She continued screaming. Then it dawned on him. “Crap,” he said, “this is the wrong room, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Nothing…my bad, my bad.” Benny backed away. “Um, carry on.”
He gave her a remorseful shrug and creeped out of the room, rushing down the stairs where he hoped there was still time to save his brother’s life. He gulped, fearing a life where all his beer would be consumed by a ghost. The thought sent shivers down his spine. No way was he gonna let that happen.
Then he heard the gunshots and nearly jumped out of his own skin.
* * * * *
Staring at the ceiling, the black and white pimp said, “Now, what the hell do you suppose is going on up there?”
Maddox snatched the sawed-off shotgun from the pimp’s hands.
“Hey, what the hell—”
Roach reached down for the Glock. Maddox unloaded one of the two shotgun shells into his gut. The bodyguard flew back against the wall, sliding down on the TV stand and crushing it into a sparkly explosion.
Just like riding a bike, Maddox was thinking, and turned the shotgun on the pimp. He resisted his urge to pull the trigger.
“You’re pretty quick for a white boy, ain’t ya?” Jules laughed. “I’m impressed, I tell ya, and I ain’t one to be easily impressed.”
“Shut up.” Maddox rose to his feet with the shotgun. He wiped another glob of blood from his face and tried to stable his balance.
“Aw, is somebody cranky? Well, that ain’t—”
The other shotgun shell exploded into the pimp’s left ribcage. Jules flung across the bed, skull bouncing off the headboard. He curled into a small ball, his hands pressed firmly against the missing half of his side, screaming.
“OH MY GOD! YOU SHOT ME! WHY WOULD YOU SHOOT ME?”
Maddox dropped the empty sawed-off and cracked his neck. He spat out a chunk of blood and glared down at the defenseless pimp. A rage built inside him, making him want to hurt Jules just as badly as he’d hurt him. Worse, in fact. Much worse.
He couldn’t allow a Sox fan to get off with a simple gunshot wound to the ribs. Maddox spotted the cane laying there on the floor, sticking halfway from under the bed, and picked it up.
He flipped the cane around so he had a clean grip on the bottom. He cracked the glass topper against the bedpost, leaving behind a few dozen shards facing outward.
He approached the side of the bed, staring at Jules as he squirmed on the crimson comforter. Holding the end of the cane, he raised his arms over his head.
“Hey,” Jules said, “that’s my cane,” just before Maddox slammed all of his force down upon the pimp’s face. The glass shards leftover from the crystal ball punctured through his right cheek and half of his eye socket. A mini volcano of blood and eye jelly erupted, splashing Maddox with the grotesque fallout.
Benny kicked open the door and barged through, waving the Beretta wildly.
He stopped, gasping at the scene. “Whoa.”
Still feeling the brutal effects of killing two people, Maddox turned around, panting profoundly, vision hazy and sweet tooth stronger than ever. The things he would do for a goddamn cookie right now.
Maddox cocked his head to his brother. “I’ll deal with you later. Cops are on their way—almost here, by the sound of it. Grab the briefcase and let’s go.”
Benny nodded and latched the case of Jericho closed. Maddox tossed the strap over his shoulder and, grunting, lifted the duffle bag of cash off the bed. Wiping the room clean of his prints crossed his mind, but he figured there was enough blood soaked into the carpet alone to connect him to the scene of the crime. Plus, there was simply no time.
He left the cane sticking in the black and white pimp’s skull, then stepped back out into the cold and slammed the door shut.
The cool wind on his face was heaven compared to the humidity of the motel room. As they rushed toward the end of the balcony it occurred to Maddox that the number of the motel room had, in fact, been the same two digits as the ones tattooed onto his back: 23.
He wondered if there was some kind of significance there.
They reached the top of the stairs and Benny went down first. Maddox followed closely behind him, struggling to carry the duffle bag.
Benny’s foot landed on a patch of ice on one of the steps midway down, sending him tumbling down the stairs. As he landed on the hard cold cement his arm smacked the ground, forcing his hand to close around the trigger of the Beretta.
Maddox staggered back, somehow staying on his feet, his hand gripping the shot shoulder. He looked down at the bottom of the steps at his brother, watched him trying to regain his own balance while juggling a pistol in one hand and a briefcase in the other.
“You shot me,” he whispered, too soft for anyone to hear.
Benny finally got to his feet and studied Maddox fearfully. “Did I shoot you?”
“You shot me.”
“I did?”
“You shot me.”
“Oh,” Benny said. “My bad.”
“Your bad? You shot me!” Maddox stumbled down the stairs.
“It was an accident!”
“I am going to kill you.”
“Oh yeah?” Benny said, as they moved briskly across the parking lot. “Well, you kill me, then I’m gonna come back as a ghost and drink all of your beer! HA! I’ll be the sexiest ghost there ever was!”
Maddox ignored him. He had to. Otherwise he really would kill him. His arm felt like it was on fire as he slid into the driver’s seat and punched the trunk release button, ordering the idiot to put the duffle bag and briefcase inside.
“Well, ain’t you a mess,” Jazzy said from the backseat.
Maddox started up the car. “Bitch, it is not the time.”
She fell silent.
Benny jumped in the passenger seat as sirens in the nearby distance droned closer and closer to the motel. “Holy crap, man, let’s go, let’s go.”
Maddox skidded across the parking lot, spinning out onto the street and speeding away from the motel. “Give me a towel. Anything to wipe this shit off me.”
Floyd leaned forward and handed him a stack of baby wipes. “Always come prepared, am I right?”
Maddox took the wipes without answering and began to clean his face as they fled from the crime scene.
“So,” Floyd said, “you remember my shampoo?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Toilet Talk
It was getting to the point where Johnny was high even without taking the purple. It was as if he had taken so much, that the drug’s chemicals were soaked into his brain—had completely fried his mind to always perceive a hallucinogenic reality.
When he looked up at the sky, he saw red instead of blue. When it rained, it felt hot. When someone shook his hand, it was as if Johnny’s hand was dissolving into the other person’s. And God help whoever that other person may be
. That person was not his friend. That person was his enemy. That person was some kind of camouflaged demon spy trying to uncover the secrets buried deep down in Johnny’s soul—something these monsters didn’t have. They were everywhere.
He became more paranoid at school. The kids he once considered friends—always laughing, always fighting. It was barbaric. He watched them interact with each other from faraway, drooling purple saliva, coughing up his lungs, hiding his hard-on. It never went down. He took care of it and not even an hour later his pants were tightening around his groin again. It was mystifying. How could someone be so disgusted with humanity and yet be so horny all the time?
It was that purple shit. It had to be. What else? Teenage hormones? No, these urges were too strong. Sometimes he caught himself thinking like some sort of psycho rapist and had to pinch himself until the thoughts diminished. Sure, he liked to think differently, but he knew the truth. He was just another one of the animals out there in the schoolyard, walking numbly back and forth among the masses of replicas with their hard silly dicks in their hands, wondering when something interesting would happen.
The students here weren’t any different from others kids. The only difference was they wore suits and skirts, skirts and suits. Some of them were demons and some of them were humans on their way to becoming demons. They were all waiting in line for that fang to sink into their neck, for that vacuum to suck up their soul, for that darkness to blind them.
Including Johnny.
He knew where he was, and what he was surrounded by. The purple had opened up his eyes. He hated it. He preferred to still be in the dark. But this, this awareness, it was all too much for him. It kept him up at night. He saw their eyes and their lack of faces and the deep coal pits replacing their withering hearts and it made him want to kill himself—to kill everyone, to kill the whole goddamn planet.
And then he met the Fly.
While that first hit of purple had been the gunshot to start the race, the Fly would be his guide in completing it. The Fly would lead him to the finish line. When he had been first introduced to It the morning before, Johnny had simply shrugged It off as some sort of asinine hallucination and swallowed It with his glass of water. But by the end of that day, Johnny had made a complete turnaround. It hadn’t just been some illusion. The Fly convinced him otherwise. Now Johnny bowed to the Fly. He worshiped It.
Because now he knew what the Fly was.
The Fly was his Savior.
* * * * *
It was the day after meeting the Fly when everything started spiraling out of control.
It was a Sunday. He had spent the whole morning in the bathroom staring down stupidly at the toilet. It was beautiful, what he saw.
There was no water in the bowl—all gone and replaced with billions of flies, buzzing and buzzing and buzzing. There were just so many, it overwhelmed him, like a black colony of everything right in the world. Inside the toilet was heaven and outside the toilet was the shit.
Sitting on the seat by Itself was the Fly. The Savior.
“Soon, soon the time will come.”
“For the end?”
“And the beginning.”
Johnny had no idea what the Fly was talking about, yet at the same time he understood It perfectly. Not only what It was saying now, but he understood the whole world. He understood everything and was just as confused as before. The answers, he knew, were much clearer inside that toilet. All he had to do was dive in, head first, and swim with the flies. He wanted to drown in the knowledge of the universe.
“After it’s over and after it starts, you will finally be one of us. All your hard work will be rewarded. You will join us down here in our bliss and never hurt again. You will be a god, Johnny. A real god. You will be fucked by many and worshipped by all. You will be at the top, you will be everything you’ve ever dreamed. Soon, Johnny, soon! But there is still much to do. Our soldiers are still caged, our animals are still imprisoned. You must attack first, before it’s too late. Now leave us! Go! Free the beasts! Free the heathens! Free them all, dear Johnny! Go!”
And with that, a phantom finger pushed down on the flusher and the mass of holy flies swirled away into the sewer system. The Fly cannonballed after them.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Would You Like Fries with That?
The Cadillac cruised smoothly for a solid ten minutes before anyone else said something. Of course, it had to be the lot lizard.
“I am fucking starving.”
“Too bad,” Maddox said, having finally accepted his face wasn’t going to get any cleaner.
“I’m kind of hungry, as well,” Floyd said.
“Me, too,” Benny said.
Maddox sighed. Every ounce of him ached. “Eat at the trailer.”
“Oh come on, Mads,” Benny said. “You know there ain’t shit there to eat.”
“What do you expect me to do, then?” These people were unbelievable.
“Right there!” Jazzy pointed ahead at a McDonald’s. “I wants a Big Mac!”
Maddox looked at the fast food restaurant in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“I haven’t eaten all day!” Benny rubbed his stomach for extra effect.
“No,” Maddox said. “This is ridiculous. You are ridiculous. There’s blood everywhere! And I’m shot!”
“Oh, quits yo baby hollerin’,” Jazzy said. “Just go on to the drive-thru reals quick. C’mon!”
Maddox shook his head stubbornly. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”
The three passengers sighed and settled back in their seats. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They had just barely escaped from a motel full of pimps, pistols, and pigs—the three Ps, respectfully—and they wanted to go eat? He was practically bleeding to death and all they cared about was a Big Mac.
“You know,” Benny said, “I saw a commercial the other day that was advertising these new sugar cookies McDonald’s has. They’re crammed with like these giant M&Ms? Only a buck for three of ‘em, too…”
Maddox maneuvered the Cadillac into a hasty U-turn, thinking that sweet tooth of his would be the death of him one day.
“Yay!” Jazzy clapped.
“Fuck you,” Maddox said bitterly, turning into the McDonald’s parking lot.
He only had to take one look at the drive-thru to determine there was no way he was going to wait that long in line. When bleeding through multiple places on the body, it was seldom possible to have patience in fast food drive-thrus.
He swerved into the nearest empty space he could find and turned the car off.
Maddox sat there for a moment, head leaned back, eyes closed, just enjoying the silence.
“Well?” Jazzy said, ruining the peaceful moment he had going. “I wants a Big Mac!”
“Wait, who’s going in?” Floyd asked. “Oh God, please don’t make me go. I hate standing up there, waiting in line, giving orders for more than just myself. It makes me feel like such a fat cow. And all the people behind me, you just know they’re thinking the same thing about me. Fat cow, fat cow. No way! Too much pressure, man, way too much pressure.”
“I will,” Maddox said. He didn’t open his eyes, though, or make any hint of getting out of the car at all, for that matter.
“What?” Benny said. “Are you crazy? You’re fuckin’ shot, man. You can’t go in there. They’ll call the cops!”
“I’m going.” Maddox leaned forward and pressed the trunk release button. He winced. Every movement seemed to drive another jolt of pain through his shoulder, which would then explode into an agonizing spasm located at the center of his nervous system.
“Big Macs for everyone then?” he asked.
They all nodded.
“Fries?”
“Um, I don’t know,” Floyd said. “Is anyone else going to have some if I get some? I will if you guys will. Otherwise I’ll feel all fat and stuff.”
“Jesus Christ, Floyd, you’re skinnier than I am,” Benny said.
“Don’t you dare hurt my emotionals, Benjamin!”
“No one wants fries,” Benny said. “Just go on and get the Big Macs and let’s go, huh?”
“Yeah,” Maddox said. “And then I kill you.”
“Deal.”
“Catcha later, lover-butt,” said Jazzy. The lot lizard leaped forward and planted a small sloppy kiss across Maddox’s cheek, leaving behind a faint rancid outline of swampy green lipstick. “Thanks for murdering my boss.”
“Anytime.” He headed to the back of the car and lifted up the ajar trunk. He quickly unzipped the duffle bag and took out a hundred dollar bill. He figured one hundred out of what could be millions would hardly be accounted for. Hell, if he wanted to he could probably even take a couple thousand. It wasn’t the time to commit unnecessary risks. He would even inform King of this one minor bill and tell him to take it out of his own pay.
Maddox stuffed the bill in his pants pocket. He took off his bloodied jean jacket and tossed it in the trunk before closing it. It was too much of an eyesore to be wearing out in public. He walked into the McDonald’s and headed straight down the hall toward the bathroom. The men’s was locked.
“Ocupado!” said a man who clearly did not speak Spanish.
Shit, Maddox thought, and looked around. He made sure no one was watching and slipped in the women’s bathroom, quickly locking the door behind him. He rushed to the sink and turned the faucet, splashing cold water into his face. He pulled up his sleeve and grimaced at the hole in his upper arm, blood slowly gushing out.
He took some paper towels, wet them, and cleaned up any noticeable blood. It took a while but he felt he had done a pretty decent job. Except for his arm. It was still oozing a little. He spotted a sanitary pad dispenser located next to the sink and he grinned.
Maddox ripped the dispenser’s opening apart, a waterfall of pads collapsing to the floor. He picked one up and peeled away the bottom. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. He flattened the pad against his gunshot wound. It stuck to his flesh just as good as a Band-Aid, maybe even better. It actually wasn’t so bad at all.
Toxicity Page 17
