by Robert Bevan
As soon as their lips touched, some dumb motherfucker, clearly in need of an ass-stomping, cleared his throat.
Bucky and Zelda looked behind them to find that everyone was right there in the playground with them.
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Thorin, not sounding sorry at all. “We thought it would be best to move away from a burning gas station.”
“And there's also the matter of our story,” said Roger. “I'm going to need to fill out a report tonight.”
Rainn cocked an eyebrow. “When you say our story...”
“A credible version of events that don't involve charging any of you, of course, or any demons, or...”
“Or what?” said Rainn.
Roger looked at his shoes. “Or me relinquishing my sidearm.”
Rainn grinned widely. “Yeah, I guess that was pretty unprofessional of you.”
Roger gave a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I’m a peacekeeper, Rainn. I keep this town in order. You think I can just go back to the station and explain to the mayor that we burned down a place of business because of a gasoline fight with a mutant talking bug? Heck, I don’t think the paperwork even exists for that.” He scratched the back of his head as he surveyed the burning store. “The firefighters are on their way. We really need to clear the area. Again, this is a gas station.”
Bucky swigged his beer. “We ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. As per state law, Texaco’s fuel tank systems are fitted securely underground, and comply fully with 1988 EPA regulations on leak control and potential overfill.”
Floyd gave a bright smile. “Shit, dude, that’s some professional reassurance right there.”
Bucky raised his bottle in a modest salute.
“Even so,” said Roger. “I need you guys to get out of here. Do you have transport?”
“I’ve got my van,” said Zelda.
“I’ve got the Lincoln,” said Bucky “Unless you’re going to give me shit about the tail-light again.”
Roger nodded distractedly, looking like a man working on a complicated math problem. “I need you guys to do me a favor. I need you all to get out of here, go back to Tiny Tino’s, and eliminate any trace you were ever there. Don’t worry about the door, just make sure you haven’t left any personal effects.”
“Done,” said Floyd.
“Bucky, I need you to stay here with me. You were on duty here, and you’re the only witness. The only official witness.”
“What? Bullshit! Haven’t I done enough already?”
Roger looked from the burning store back to Bucky. “I’m not sure how you want me to interpret that.”
Zelda squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “Relax, Bucky, we can continue our discussion later.” She wiggled her eyebrows over the thick frames of her glasses in a way that made Bucky want to both laugh and take his pants off, which was an odd but enjoyable emotional cocktail.
“So what are you two going to do?” Thorin asked Roger.
“We’re going to handle the authorities.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Thorin said brightly. “Come on, Zelda, let’s go.”
Zelda turned a dirty look to the back of Thorin's head, but she and Rainn followed him anyway, and along with Mark and Floyd, they hopped into the van and left in a hurry. Roger and Bucky watched them go. There was a distant sound of sirens.
Roger sighed again. “Well, Bucky. Looks like it’s just you and me.”
“Yup.”
“So. The security cameras in there — are they online or are they still using tapes?”
“Tapes. Just as on fire as everything else in there, I reckon.”
“Dang. Just… dang it.” Roger turned to at Bucky, his usual professional impassiveness giving way to a mask of pleading. “Can I trust you, Bucky?”
Bucky felt decades of casual loathing run headlong into a wall of circumstantial sympathy. “Look, man. You let my friends go. I guess that means I owe you something.”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Bucky,” Roger said. “I didn’t let them go because they’re your friends. I let them go because no one is going to believe that I came here on a demon hunt. I’ll be straight with you — it was my gun that started that fire, thanks to Floyd…”
“Hey, he saved your life!”
“I know, and I’m grateful, but I can’t tell anyone that. We can’t tell anyone about the…the demon. There’s no proof. I’ll lose my job. You and your friends might face jail time. Heck, I saw that thing with my own eyes — heard it speak, even — and even I’m having trouble believing it, still.”
“So, what’s the plan, Roger?”
“We say it was an animal attack.”
“What?”
“A bear got into the store.”
“Bears? Since when do we get bears just wandering around?”
“It’s been known to happen. There’s still a black bear population around here and I’ve got a whole bunch of witnesses who say they saw some kind of monster out tonight. Won’t take much to plant the ‘bear’ seed in their heads. We’ll say it got into the store, messed the place up, you tried to shoo it out and it turned on you.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “And you got here just in time to save my ass?”
Roger nodded. “Your life was in danger and I had no choice but to open fire and scare the bear away.”
“I don’t know, Roger. That kind of makes me sound like a pussy.”
“How do you think it makes me sound?” Roger snapped. “Do you have any idea how unprofessional it is to discharge a firearm in a gas station? Even with this explanation, I’ll be lucky to keep my job.”
Bucky spoke carefully, each word navigating around the rising bitter bile in his throat. “I will tell them that you saved my life.”
“Thank you,” Roger said, clearly relieved. “Just one more thing.”
“What?”
“It’s gonna be a long night for both of us. But first thing tomorrow, I want you to take me down to where you first saw this demon. I’m not done trying to figure out exactly what went on here, and I want to make dang sure this doesn’t happen again.”
Chapter 28
BANG BANG BANG BANG
“FUCK!” Bucky hopped out of bed like he had a hooker tongue in his ass. His dreams had been a hodgepodge of incongruous hazy images of bugs, goths, and tits. Then there was Zabor, banging on the cashier window at Texaco. Had it all been a dream? Had all the events over the past couple of days been —
BANG BANG BANG BANG
Bucky's heart just about leaped out of his chest. He got out of bed and lifted up one slat of his blinds. Roger's cruiser was parked out front.
“Shit.” He threw on a robe to stave off the morning chill. “Floyd?”
“In the shitter!” Floyd called back. Then he added, “There's someone at the door!”
BANG BANG BANG BANG
“Hang on!” Bucky shouted, tripping over a spilled box of Cap'n Crunch. With all the recent commotion, he and Floyd hadn't had time to tidy up the place. He opened the door a crack.
“Where the heck have you been?” demanded Roger, staring at Bucky with bloodshot, sleep deprived eyes.
“Good morning, Roger.”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I do not.”
Roger pointed very deliberately at his watch. “It's nine forty-five.”
Bucky yawned and squinted past Roger into the sunlit trees, trying to process the information he'd just been given. “In the morning?”
“Yes, in the morning!”
Bucky blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I told you we was supposed to meet at the station first thing in the morning.”
“Well goddamn, Roger. I only just left you a few hours ago. I figured you meant when we both woke up.”
“I ain't been to sleep.” Roger shivered. “I couldn't after what I seen last night.”
Bucky actually found himself feeling sorry for him.
“Do you want to come in?”
Roger gave Bucky a sharp glare. “No, I don't want to come in. What I want is for you to put some clothes on and take me to where you first saw that bug monster.”
“Well, you're gonna have to wait a few minutes. Floyd's in there right now dropping some Tiny Tino's.”
“In where?”
“The shitter.”
Roger closed his eyes. “You mean to tell me you first saw this creature in your bathroom?”
“That's right. It crawled up out of the —” Bucky's attention was diverted by the sound of gravel crunching under tires. “Now who the fuck is this?” It was Zelda's van. “What in the hell? Did I accidentally send out a bunch of goddamn breakfast invitations?”
“Is that —”
“Stall them, would you, Roger? I can't have guests come in with the trailer lookin' like this.”
“But you just invited me —”
“Thanks, man. Be right back.” Bucky shut the door in Roger's face. He pulled on a pair of camo shorts and his Test Pilots of Sex t-shirt, ran a brush through his hair, then looked in the mirror.
Minimum Viable Product.
Floyd was still in the bathroom, so Bucky was forced to improvise on brushing his teeth. Fortunately, living with Floyd had taught him to be prepared for just such scenarios. He felt in the back of his underwear drawer for his emergency pack of Certs. He put the four remaining mints in his mouth and chewed on them while he stepped over trash on his way to the kitchen.
When the mints were nice and gritty, he poured himself a shot of peppermint schnapps and got a can of Sprite out of the fridge.
Tilting back his head, he poured the schnapps and as much Sprite as he could into his mouth, gargled the mixture, then swallowed.
He ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth. “Fresh as a fuckin' daisy.”
“What?” called Floyd from the bathroom.
“Ain't nobody talking to you. The hell you doin' in there anyway? You better not be soiling another Tits Monthly.”
“No, man,” groaned Floyd. “It's the Tiny Tino's.”
“Well spray something in there once you're done. But whatever you do, make sure you don't light a goddamn candle.”
Bucky put on a smile and opened the front door. “Well, well. What a pleasant, yet unexpected, surprise.”
“Morning, Bucky,” said Zelda. “You feeling any better?”
“I could have done with a bit more sleep.” Bucky shot Roger a quick glare. “But I'm alright.”
Zelda covered her mouth as she yawned. “I hear you. Hell of a night.”
Roger wrung his hands like he was strangling an invisible midget. “Just tell me y'all cleaned up Tiny Tino's like I told you.”
“We thought it would be easier to just burn the place down,” said Rainn. “Make sure all the evidence was properly destroyed.”
Roger looked at her like he was about to cry or give birth.
Rainn smiled at him. “I'm just fucking with you, Roger. It's clean.”
Roger sighed with relief. Bucky did too. He really liked Tiny Tino's.
“What the hell are y'all doing here so early?” Bucky thought for a moment. “Or at all?”
“Rainn wanted to check out the ritual spot in the woods,” said Zelda. “We're supposed to get a storm this afternoon, so we decided to come early.”
“Excuse me,” said Roger. “What ritual spot in the woods?”
“We caught up with Zabor a couple of nights ago. He was making pentagrams and whackin' it to titty mags. You know, demon shit.”
“Why didn't you tell me about this before?”
“'Cause you was so hellbent on watching Floyd take a shit.”
“Who wants to watch me take a shit?” asked Floyd, exiting the trailer.
Bucky nodded at Roger.
“I said nothing of the sort!” said Roger. “I'm investigating the demon!”
“I don't know what kind of evidence you expect to find in there, Columbo,” said Bucky. “We've done a lot of flushing since we first seen Zabor.”
“Speaking of flushing,” said Floyd. “Have you noticed how much faster the water drains now?”
“I have noticed that.”
“I reckon Zabor must have dislodged a clogged hairball or something on his way up.”
Bucky pumped both fists and thrust his crotch forward. “Take that, Bin Laden!”
“Can we please go take a look at that spot in the woods?” asked Roger.
“Sure thing,” said Bucky. “Clog or no clog, you're gonna want to let that air out a bit before you go in there anyway.”
They trudged their way into the woods, and Bucky took the opportunity to fill Roger in with a couple of the finer details of the Zabor situation. Roger appeared to be digesting the information as best he could, with a look on his face like the chick from that Shining movie after she walked in on that furry blowing that butler.
“You mean to tell me that you seriously believe you summoned a demon because Floyd here is a compulsive masturbator?” he said.
“Hey, weren’t nothing compulsive about it— I have a completely healthy morning routine.” Floyd sniffed.
“You masturbated on a dead cockroach!”
“That was collateral damage, man. Hell, you’re a cop, you should know all about that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’re here, guys,” said Rainn, pushing into the clearing ahead of them. “Oh, shit.”
Bucky pushed through the branches behind her and concurred. “Ohhhh, shit.”
The pentagram scratched into the earth was as they had left it, with the gooey titty mag still sprawled in the center, surrounded by the crushed cans of LAX body spray and empty Cheezums wrappers. Where the fires had been, though, there was now something else.
“What are all these holes?” said Roger. “Did the demon do that?”
Bucky shook his head. “I don’t think so. When we chased him away, they definitely weren’t here.”
Zelda crouched over one of the holes and hawked a modest loogie. She let it drip down into the darkness. “These things go deep,” she concluded. Bucky squatted next to her and peered down the hole. It was only a couple of feet across, but it seemed to travel straight down. He fancied he could hear a distant, rushing wind. He shuddered.
Roger stood over them. “Probably not as deep as you think. I’ve seen rabbit holes before that looked like they’d take you straight to Wonderland.”
“Still,” said Rainn. “Given the context, this is some pretty worrying shit. A hole at each point of the pentagram? Can’t be a coincidence. What if Zabor summoned something else?”
Bucky frowned. “You mean, like, maybe giant moles?”
Zelda shrugged. “That’d make sense. If he used a bug as a vessel, why not a rodent or two?”
Bucky felt a grin spread across his face. “Hey, Floyd, do you think a couple of giant mutant moles would get us on Oprah?” There was no reply. “Floyd?”
Bucky looked around and found him standing in the middle of the pentagram, the disheveled copy of Tits Monthly in his hand.
“What’s wrong, buddy?”
“She’s gone,” Floyd muttered.
“Who?”
“Miss Pick O’ The Peaches, 1979. She’s just… gone.”
“You mean someone tore the page out?”
Floyd turned wild eyes towards Bucky. “No. Look at it. The page is still there, the writing, the headline. But she’s just… disappeared.”
Bucky took the magazine and saw that Floyd was right. It was as though someone had written up the page, but never photographed the model. He glanced over to the hole in the dirt again. That half-imagined sound seemed to get louder. To fill his mind. “Rainn, what do you make of this?”
Rainn took the magazine and flicked through the pages. “It’s not just her,” she concluded. “Look, there are five photographs missing.”
“Let me see that,” said Floyd. “She’s right! And they were the
best ones, too.”
Zelda was biting her lip thoughtfully. “So, what we have here is a demon-summoning ritual, five suspicious holes in the ground, and five missing nudie models.”
Rainn flapped her arms out in an exasperated shrug. “Are we really suggesting that Zabor summoned five demonic porn stars?”
“I gotta admit,” said Floyd. “If I could do that, it’d be the first thing I did,”
“Yeah, but, doesn’t it sound kind of… stupid?” said Rainn.
“By what comparison?”
Roger cleared his throat for attention. He looked like he was about to admit something he really didn’t want to admit to.
“What is it, Roger?” said Bucky, not sure if he really wanted the answer
“Guys,” Roger said. “That might not be so stupid as it sounds.”
Roger began to speak, but Bucky couldn’t concentrate. His eyes were drawn once again to that dark, winding hole in the ground. The distant sound like a death rattle in an earthen throat began, to him at least, to sound like faint insectoid chittering.
Zabor was gone, but Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that something much worse was coming for them.
The End
Congratulations. You’ve survived your first visit to Hell’s Titties. Not everyone is so fortunate. We certainly hope to see y’all again. Bucky and Floyd will be back in Hells Titties II.
In the meantime you can dive into Robert Bevan and Steve Wetherell’s other fictional universes.
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