He rolled his sleeve back down, covering up the pad. Its shape was still visible through his shirt, but he doubted anyone would come to that sort of conclusion. Maddox inspected himself one last time in the mirror and frowned. His face was swollen, nose purple, lip busted.
His Cubs cap was missing, too. Must have still been at the motel, abandoned at the scene. This pissed him off more than anything else.
Maddox walked out of the bathroom and stood in line. Everyone stared at him when he came out, gasping at his injuries. No doubt they were ridiculing the pad concealed under his sleeve. Bastards, the whole lot of them. He briefly debated retreating back to the trailer. To hell with the lot lizard’s complaints. He would drop them all off at the trailer, deliver King his money and collect his reward. And then find the nearest gas station and reload on sweets, where he would then race back to the trailer so he could pay off the bitch to finally leave them alone once and for all. It sounded like one hell of a fantastic idea to Maddox.
But then he saw the cookie bin resting on the counter up there by the register. Row and row of fresh sugar cookies, each one caked with giant, seducing M&Ms. Benny hadn’t been lying. They looked absolutely delicious. It was exactly the type of medicine he needed to treat his ravenous sweet tooth.
The sign pinned to the front of the bin read: 3 for $1
Maddox decided to wait in line after all.
A young punk sporting a green Mohawk stared at Maddox. “Whoa, man, the fuck happen to you?”
Maddox looked at the kid miserably. “Got screwed by an inside-out Oreo.”
“Oh…well, we’ve all been there…” He turned back to the front of the line, possibly disturbed for life.
Maddox waited as the only cashier in the place slowly took everyone’s order. Twice she made a customer repeat themselves. He didn’t understand what was so hard about “double cheeseburger”, but whatever, it wasn’t his problem. He just wanted a damn cookie.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around expecting to be interrogated by another nosy punk, but instead discovered his brother.
“Benny? What the hell? Go back to the car.”
“I will in a minute.”
“What is it?”
“Well, Maddox, I was sitting in the car a few minutes ago, and I got to thinking about something. I thought long and hard, too, believe me.”
“About what?” Oh God, what now?
“Now, trust me, I really thought about this and—”
“What the hell are you talking about? Spit it out.”
“And I think I’ve made the right decision—”
“Benny! What do you want?”
He sighed. “I want…fries.”
Maddox could have sworn a blood vessel was on the verge of popping. His fists clenched. His teeth gritted. “Benny. Go. To. The. Fucking. Car. Right. Fucking. NOW.”
Benny took a defensive step back. He looked hurt.
“Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “Off I go. ‘Bye, Mads. I’m going. If you need me, I’ll be in the car. I’ll be in the car if you need me. The car is where I’ll be. See ya later. Catch ya on the flip side. Going to the car now. Remember my fries! Thank you! ‘Bye!”
He ran out the doors.
Maddox wanted to clock him. He really did, so very badly, right in his stupid face. But that would come later, he decided; teach him to shoot his big bro in the shoulder. Some actions just couldn’t pass without consequence.
It was his turn in line so he approached the counter. The cashier gave him one glance and flinched, fearing the worst. After a moment or two of soothing, she finally took his order.
Maddox gathered the food in his arms and gladly left the building. He walked out to the space where he had parked the Cadillac—only now, instead of a car, there was only Benny, sitting there on the icy pavement stuck in some sort of melancholic state.
Maddox knew what had happened right away, but still, he had to ask anyway. “Benny…where’s my car?”
“Well, do you see it?” Benny asked, carefully dodging eye contact.
“No, Benny, I sure don’t.”
“Yeah, me neither…”
Maddox whipped his fountain drink of Pepsi across the parking lot and it splattered like a carbonated grenade. “What the hell, Benny? Why didn’t you just stay in the goddamn car like I told you to?”
“I’m sorry, Mads,” Benny said. “How’d they steal it anyways? It’s not like you left the keys in the ignition or anything…Oh, you did? Shit. Why’d you do that?”
“Excuse me for not thinking clearly,” Maddox said, “but it’s kind of hard to concentrate with a bullet in my fucking shoulder!”
“Oh come on, there’s no need to bring up the past like that.”
“The past? The past? It wasn’t even a fucking hour ago! Do you realize how much money was in there?”
“No—how much?”
“Millions!”
“Well, I just don’t know what to say,” Benny said. “They stole from us. I can’t believe it. Floyd was like a brother to me. A brother that wasn’t so overly violent. But that bitch, that succubus, completely turned him against me. I wasn’t even in there for a minute, too…” He spotted the McDonald’s bag in Maddox’s hands. “But hey, let’s look on the bright side. More food for us, right? Speaking of, can I have my sandwich please? I’m still pretty hungry. I would have liked a pop or something with it too, but, you know, someone kind of lost their temper and now we don’t have any. It’s okay, though. I forgive you. Nobody’s perfect.”
The vessel popped.
“You want your sandwich, Benny?” Maddox asked, derailing off into total hysteria. “Your little fuckin’ Big Mac? Here, take your stupid goddamn sandwich!”
He reached into the bag, pulled out a cardboard sandwich box, and threw it at his brother. It exploded against his forehead, thin sheets of lettuce being carried away by the wind like green dandelion seeds.
“TAKE THEM ALL!” Maddox threw the whole bag at him.
Benny just sat there and took it, licking Big Mac sauce off his face. It wasn’t enough. Maddox wanted to beat his face in—beat him until his knuckles were raw. He almost did, too, but at the last second managed to stop himself.
Somehow, Maddox bit his lower lip and held back the anger. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that you really screwed me, Benny. What am I supposed to tell King? That my car, with his money in the trunk, was jacked by a hooker in a fast food parking lot? He’ll kill me!”
Benny stood up and hugged him. “I accept your apology,” he said.
Maddox kicked a hamburger bun across the parking lot and stared up at the sun. It felt like it was staring back down, mocking him. “We’re like two miles from the trailer. Let’s get walking.”
“All right,” Benny said. He bent down and searched for scattered food in the snow. “Umm…Mads? Where’re my fries?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, you must have forgotten to tell me,” Maddox said, walking away.
Benny followed. “Man, that was a real asshole move on your part.”
“Benny?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Arguing with Beelzebub
Sunday afternoon.
Johnny’s girlfriend came over and found him in his room, scribbling messages on his wall with a permanent marker.
“Johnny, what the hell are you doing?”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you writing all that crap on your wall?”
“What crap?” Johnny turned back around. He studied the wall and its markings. There was one consistent phrase written over and over:
OBEY THE FLY OR ELSE ALL WILL DIE
He held the marker up and shrugged, tossing it on his dresser. He looked back at his girlfriend. “I didn’t write that.”
“You did too!
I just saw you.”
“You’re crazy,” Johnny said.
“I’m crazy? I’m not the one with a million candles in my bathroom. I couldn’t even sit on the toilet. And I’m crazy? It’s like a damn praying station in there.”
“It is what it is,” Johnny said. “Now what do you want?”
Her jaw dropped in disbelief. “What do I want? You haven’t called or visited in almost a week! What on earth have you been doing?”
“Preparing.” Johnny sat down on the bed. He began picking at the numerous sores occupying his body.
“Preparing for what?”
“War,” Johnny said. “The apocalypse. The uprising. The stars. The beginning. The end. The alpha and the omega. The buzz.”
She rushed over to him. “Oh my God, how much purple have you taken?”
“All! I’ve taken it all. I’ve swallowed the sky and chewed on the long grass. I have drunk the clouds! I am fucking aware, baby!” His legs were trembling. He rocked back and forth as if he’d just downed a thermos of coffee and snorted a mountain of cocaine.
His girlfriend sat down next to him with her face in her hands. “You’re completely lost, aren’t you?”
“No,” he said. “I’m found.”
“What’s my name then? Can you even tell me that? You don’t even know my name, do you?”
“Of course I know your name.”
“Then what is it?”
“Beelzebub.”
“Dear Jesus.”
“Yeah, He’ll be there all right.” Johnny smiled. “And you’ll be begging for His mercy.”
“Johnny, what are you talking about?”
“Just you wait, bitch.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your time will come,” Johnny said. “The Fly will rise and Its people will follow. It will bring Michael and he will slice your miserable fucking throat. Don’t think I don’t see through your pathetic charade. I SEE ALL!”
“I’m leaving,” his girlfriend said.
“You won’t go far.”
“Far enough from you.” She stood up.
Johnny reached over and grabbed her arm. “Baby, it isn’t me you gotta be afraid of.”
She looked down at him and snorted in disgust. “Oh my God, do you have an erection?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Let me go.”
“Let’s screw.”
“You just called me the Devil.”
“All women are,” he said. “Let’s fuck.”
“You’re insane.”
“I know. Now get on the goddamn bed. Maybe I’ll save you yet.”
“Go play with your fly.”
“Don’t joke about the Fly,” Johnny said. “Take off your clothes.”
“Why don’t you go fuck your fly instead?”
“You dirty blasphemous bitch! I’ll kill you!”
She swung her free arm around and dug her fingernails into Johnny’s face. He released his grip and fell back, blood streaming down his cheek. He howled.
His girlfriend spun on her heels and fled the bedroom, leaving Johnny there on the bed in his own shame. He screamed threats but didn’t get up to carry them out. He just lay there while his face bled.
She would get hers. They would all get theirs. And he would be king of all. The Fly would make sure of that. It had promised him.
Johnny reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of his medicine. He inhaled a sea of purple euphoria and sighed in content. This was all he needed. Screw everyone else.
Then there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
He heard the door opening but whoever it was didn’t say anything. He opened his eyes and sat up, spotting his girlfriend standing there in the doorway, looking at him. Teary makeup stained her cheeks. He knew what she was there for and accepted her apology. Johnny even felt a little bit of pity for the poor girl. She had no idea what was coming down the road. She had no idea just how utterly doomed she was.
Johnny stood up, walked over and grabbed her hand. “It’s okay,” he said, and led her back to his bed. He laid her down on the mattress, reached down and kissed her. His lips touched her nose. It was so cold. He kissed her again and again. She tasted so good, he wanted to have more. He wanted to have all of her. The Fly would forgive him.
He licked her all over, groped his hands along her magnificent body. “I love you,” Johnny told his girlfriend, even though he didn’t even know her name. She turned over and stuck her ass up in the air from him. Johnny pulled down his zipper and willingly entered her; she whimpered in ecstasy.
After the deed was done they just lay in bed together, spooning like the poetic lovers he imagined them to be.
Then the door opened and someone came in.
“I forgot my purse. Don’t you dare try to do anything or I’ll—what the fuck?”
Johnny looked up over his girlfriend’s sleeping naked body and saw his girlfriend standing there at his dresser, picking up a purse.
“What?” he asked.
Lip quivering, she pointed at him. “What did…don’t tell me…oh my God…no way…”
“What?”
He looked back down at the figure in bed with him and his eyes widened. His girlfriend had been switched with something much hairier.
The family dog, Zooey Deschanel, turned around and ran her long, wet tongue across Johnny’s face.
“Oh, fuck,” Johnny said, gagging.
“Yarp!” Zooey Deschanel barked. Some kind of canine pillow talk.
He vomited right there in bed.
“Holy shit,” his girlfriend said, backing away. “That is beyond disgusting.” She brought out her cell phone and snapped a picture of the scene. “I can’t wait to post this on Facebook!”
She escaped before Johnny could catch her.
Zooey Deschanel stayed in bed and licked up his puke.
It was purple.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ruining a Perfectly Good Knife
They reached the trailer about forty minutes later. With each step another volt of pain shot through Maddox’s shoulder, his entire arm locking up. Out of breath, he stumbled through the front door and headed straight for the kitchen. He took off his T-shirt and tossed it to the floor.
“Towels,” Maddox said, opening the freezer, “lots of towels.”
He pulled out a bag of frozen peas as Benny came running in with a handful of beach towels.
“Um, Mads?”
“What?”
“Is that a pad on your arm?”
Maddox ignored him and sat down at the table, drenched in sweat. He unpeeled the pad and discarded it in the trash can next to him. He pressed the bag of peas against his wound and winced. Blood poured down his arm. He made a mental note never to get shot again.
“Yeah, that’s a pad all right,” Benny said, checking the garbage. “I don’t even want to know. Okay, maybe I do. Yeah, I’m gonna need details here.”
“Shut up, Benny.”
“Okay.”
Maddox got up and went over to the counter. Scavenging through a drawer, he came up with a large knife. Benny stood beside him watching with sincere interest. To him, this was really exciting. Just like in a movie! Maddox wanted to take that movie and shove it right down his brother’s throat.
He held the knife in his right hand, trying to work up the courage to do what needed to be done. “You got any whiskey?” he asked, eyes glued to the sinister glimmer of the blade.
“What?” Benny said. “Oh, yeah, sure, sure, of course I do. Jameson all right with you?”
“Just get it. Quick.”
Benny jumped up and grabbed a half empty bottle of liquor from the top of the refrigerator. He handed it over and watched as his brother took a long gulp of it.
“Now what?” Benny asked.
“Now I get the bullet out.”
“Oh. Ouch.”
“Well, here goes nothin’.”
He grabbed one of the
beach towels and stuffed it in his mouth. The last thing he could afford right now was a concerned neighbor of the trailer trash colony butting in and calling the cops all over some lousy girly screams.
Benny looked the other way as Maddox slid the tip of the blade into the jagged hole occupying his shoulder. Despite having numbed it thoroughly with peas, the pain still hit him hard. He gasped and bit down on the towel as he dug through his injury with the knife. Blood oozed out significantly, dripping down his arm and splashing against the porcelain sink.
The knife halted in action as it made contact with the bullet hiding in his flesh. Fearing that if he hesitated any longer he would never finish the job, Maddox wiggled the blade under the bullet for more leverage. His teeth sank through the fabric of the towel as he pried it out of his shoulder. His head was swimming, vision blurring. The bullet flung up in the air and landed back in the sink, clinging down the drain and into the sewers for the rats to find.
He spat the towel out of his mouth and let out a short croak: “Whiskey!”
Benny turned around just in time to witness a volcano of black blood erupting from Maddox’s shoulder. “Whoa.”
Maddox blindly reached for the Jameson on the counter and chugged half of the bottle down, then slashed some against his wound. He gestured to the knife, which had clattered into the sink, and said, “Hot—make it hot. Hold it over the stove. Hurry.”
“What? No way! This is my good knife.”
“BENNY THIS IS NOT THE FUCKING TIME!”
The phone rang.
“Don’t you dare answer that,” Maddox said.
“What if it’s an emergency?” Benny asked, and picked up the phone. “Hello? Oh, yeah, sure, here he is.” He handed it to Maddox. “It’s for you.”
Thinking it was his daughter, Maddox grabbed the phone and pushed it against his ear. “Yeah?” he said, breathing heavy.
“Hello, Maddox, this is Lionel Turner, your parole officer.”
“Oh, shit.”
“I’m just making my daily required call. I called earlier, but nobody answered. Please make sure you don’t miss my phone calls in the future. Also, I was wondering how that whole hooker situation is going for you. I’m pretty sure prostitutes are a violation of your parole.”
Toxicity Page 18
