“You’re out of the outfit, but you’re not off the hook,” I said. “It’s occurred to me that I need eyes and ears beyond the city limits. I need some intelligence—I need to know what’s going on out there. You and Jack get the job. Maybe you’ll run across other outfits in other towns from time to time. You’ll make contact with them on our behalf. And when I find myself up to my chin in zombies, demons or whatever the hell’s coming next, you’ll bust ass back here and lend a hand.”
“I will always come, Domino. Just as Jack will always return to Honey when she is in need.”
“Good. Then get the hell out of here, I’ve got work to do.”
I turned away, but Adan stepped up behind me and pulled me into his arms. He turned me around to face him and lifted my face to his, and then he kissed me like a warrior-poet on the eve of battle.
I went out onto the balcony to watch him leave. When I opened the French doors, the scent of apples and cinnamon was picked up on the breeze and carried from my home.
Adan swung onto the Panhead and Jack dropped down onto the gas cap. I smiled at the piskie and touched my heart. He grinned and blew me a kiss.
Adan pulled out the kick-starter and rested his foot on it.
Then he turned and looked up at me. “Anton invited me to the Mocambo club,” he said. “I can travel fast through the Between. Maybe we could get a drink sometime?”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “Anton’s dead.”
“Yeah, but he came to me this morning just before dawn.
He said there are a lot of ghosts looking for someone to lead them. He said to tell you it’s the kind of place where any man can be a boss.”
“And he took over the club?”
“That’s what he said. And you should see him, Domino.
I guess his ghost never discovered junk food. He’s lean and mean. He’s going to run this town on the other side.
I should warn you, though, he put Abe Warren on the payroll.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“So what about that drink?”
“I’d like that,” I said. “You’ve got my number.”
Adan nodded, grinned and started the bike. He gunned the throttle to wake up the old engine and then waved at me. He held my gaze for a long time. Finally, he slipped the aviators over his eyes, put the bike in gear and rode away without looking back.
Maybe Honey was right and men were better in the wild.
Maybe we all needed to wander, to find our own place, and maybe our paths through life would diverge for a time. But those separate paths could bend back toward each other, too. X marks the spot.
There’s a kind of magic in that.
acknowledgments
Summer in Minneapolis is a magical time—it’s warm, sweet, green and far too short. This year, I spent nearly all of it in my office, sitting at my desk in front of an open window, writing Skeleton Crew. This was great for me—the book was tremendously fun to write and I’m so fortunate to have had the opportunity. Writing isn’t a spectator sport, though, and it wasn’t so great for my wife. And so, Mashenka, thank you for giving me this summer, with constant support and without a word of complaint. This is your book, too.
SKELETON CREW
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0164-4
Copyright © 2011 by Greg Benage
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