New Brew

by Mark Lashway

  “Why, hello there!” came a voice out of nowhere, and their smiles came undone. It was the voice, that voice, which they recognized right off, knowing that it would be accompanied by a blonde-haired man smiling with a mouthful of pearly whites.

  “Oh my God….” Cam whispered hoarsely, voice cracking like he was about to cry.

  Sure enough, it was Phil Utah of Ace Brewing Company, dressed in his usual three-piece suit. That was bad enough, but they saw that he was trailed by two other smiling individuals. Shauna took Cam by the arm. They would face this together.

  “Well, golly gee!” It’s great seeing you folks again,” Utah exclaimed. “Two of my favorite people at GWIBE, some of the more mature and responsible ones! Cam, Shauna, I would like you to meet a few of my new associates. The lady here is Maria Sanchez.”

  They turned to face the newcomer, an attractive Hispanic woman whom Cam guessed to be about 35 or so, not much younger than him. “Pleased to meet you, Maria. I’m Cam and this is Shauna,” he said. They both shook hands with her.

  “Maria’s a lesbian,” Utah continued. “Mex-….oops! Sorry, Maria. Hispanic-American, gay and a professional. What a dream demographic for GWIBE’s image!”

  Finished with that, Cam turned toward the other new face, a man whom he had noticed staring at him the whole time. “Hi, and who might you be?” Cam said to him in a very direct way, having little patience with the pleasantries.

  “Hi, I’m Duke Lando,” the man replied just as bluntly, shaking Cam’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m the founder of Flatlands Malting Company. We’re a big malt supplier out here.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about you,” Cam replied. Shauna continued her silence.

  “Heh heh, there’s no great demographic appeal with this one!” Utah laughed. “Just another straight white guy!” What silly-assed nonsense, Cam thought, sizing up the two newbies. Demo girl has some attitude, but this Lando is the one to watch out for. He has the same goonish qualities as Deville, only he’s a bit more polished and guarded. Beautiful.

  “Well, it was nice meetin’ you,” Cam said, “but Shauna and I still have to finish gettin’ this place set up. We’ll see you around, I’m sure.” Probably not in a good way, either.

  “Why, that’s a sure bet, Cam!” Utah informed them. “As it turns out, your site is right across the way from my tent over there. See?” Utah pointed it out. Cam nodded. Then Utah’s small group left.

  “Damn it, this year is not startin’ off well, Shauna,” Cam groaned. “It’s an omen.”

  “Cam, dear,” she replied, getting stern with him, “you work in a field requiring evaluation of cold hard facts based on logic. You do not indulge in superstition, OK?”

  “Like hell I don’t. It’s an omen, alright. Phil Utah is present, so dark clouds will roll in and disasters will happen. We need to move right now.”

  “Move? Are you kidding me? This is a perfect site. Why in the world should we….”

  “Simple. Suppose somebody burns his tent down again? One good breeze at that moment could send a piece of flamin’ debris over here and light up our tent, too.”

  “Nobody is going to burn Phil’s tent, or anyone’s tent for that matter. Last year was when GWIBE bottomed out and I’m sure people here understand how wrong it all was. GWIBE will be tamer now, at least when it comes to the violence.”

  “You’re the eternal optimist, my dear wife. Alright, have it your way, but if we wake up in the middle of the night to a burnin’ smell and uncomfortably hot temperatures, then I’m gonna say ‘I told you so’, provided we live through it.”

  She wanted to chew some more, but before she could speak Cam noticed her eyes grow wide and a smile light her face. He saw Gerhard Streicher and Johann Kopp coming.

  “Gerhard! Johann!” she cried, rushing over to the two Bavarians as they strode into their campsite. Both men hugged her enthusiastically, then shook hands with Cam.

  “How is our newly married couple?” Gerhard asked, grinning.

  “It has been great!” Shauna exclaimed. “We were so glad that you guys made it to the wedding. Most of the people we invited did, and that meant so much to us!” The two Germans, like everyone else, didn’t know about Shauna’s earlier marriage to Trub.

  “So, what has been going on with you two?” Shauna asked. “Besides beer, I mean. Has either one of you found a special someone to try to domesticate you?”

  “Ja, it is funny that you mention it,” Gerhard answered. “I have been spending much time with Tina Halbuck. Do you remember her from last year?”

  “Isn’t she the woman who finished second in the competition to you after you cut Roger Kwik’s throat in the helles contest that night?” Cam wondered.

  “Cam!” Shauna cried.

  “Ja, she is the one!” Gerhard laughed, bellowing. “I am pleased that you remember that, Cam. Anyway, she and I have been together for four months now.”

  “Wonderful!” Shauna replied. “What about you, Johann? Is there anyone….”

  “Ja, indeed there is, Shauna. As it happened, Tina has a cousin she introduced me to, Kirsten. You’ll meet them both shortly, I am sure. Oh, I see them coming now.”

  Two women slightly younger than Shauna casually sauntered toward them, giggling over something. As soon as they joined the group, proper introductions were made all around.

  “Wow, there are enough medal winners here to have a ceremony,” Cam said, a rather goofy remark that earned him a sideways glance from Shauna.

  “Ja. That reminds me, Cam, that Tina here, besides being my romantic interest, also acts as my collaborator in my work to win back the first-place ribbon from that Belgian dog Jan Vosloo in the open wheat category.”

  “Belgian swine! We will finish him for good this year!” Kopp bellowed in a rage.

  As if from an act of God, a dark pall seemed to overcome the place. Shauna’s eyes grew wide at the Germans’ sudden tempest. Obviously, they hadn’t gotten over that fateful night last September when the Belgian had stung Gerhard.

  “I wish I could kick myself in the ass for havin’ let it out,” Cam whispered.

  “When we’re alone, I’ll spare you the trouble and do it for you,” Shauna muttered.

  “Johann, honey, you need to relax. Remember what the doctor said about your blood pressure,” Kirsten mumbled soothingly. “Let’s go back to your place, pour a round and I’ll give you a back rub, OK?”

  “Ja, we will do that,” Johann agreed. “Cam, Shauna, would you like to join us?”

  “Maybe a little later, Johann. We still have some settlin’ in to do,” Cam replied.

  After that group left, they managed to finish everything without further interruption. When it was all done, Cam looked at his watch, which read 4:57 p.m. “What do you say, honey? We still have a bit of light left. We can go see people and get that done,” Cam suggested.

  “That sounds fine. I’ve been looking forward to seeing Helen again, and Sonny.”

  They left their campsite and walked about 80 yards to the main road. Cam couldn’t ignore the huge tent with a company logo on it, Phil Utah’s headquarters, sure that it was a symbol of disaster ahead. GWIBE itself he thought of as a constant flame. Adding the presence of Phil Utah would be like pouring 10,000 gallons of jet fuel onto it. But I called it right last year after he fled. I told myself that he will have learned nothing and that he’d be back….

  “I told you to get your mind off that crap,” Shauna told him, seeing his look.

  “It’s hard. You know, with that impendin’ doom stuff and all.”

  Shauna inexplicably turned left and led them that way. Her senses were good, because they had only gone about a quarter-mile when they heard a familiar “Hey!” It was Helen Bowman, who waved them over. After yet another round of hugs and kisses, Helen pointed to the adjoining campsite, which turned out to be that of Sonny Lombardo.

  “You’re actually living next to Sonny?” Shauna laughed. “How do you two live so close together for 10 d
ays and not kill each other?”

  “I know, I know!” Helen cried. “It’s just that after the incident last year with that little creep Utah barging into my tent all naked, I got spooked. It gives me some security having a mean, tough man I trust close by. Oh, what’s wrong with me? I’m all set up, so I’ll pour us a beer to start things off!”

  “Did someone mention my name?” came another familiar voice from several yards away as Sonny Lombardo emerged from his tent. Shauna smiled broadly and rushed over to hug him. As Cam went to greet him, he noticed another man exiting Sonny’s tent and stared at the sight of a middle-aged man dressed in a hooded robe with clogs on his feet, clearly a man of the cloth. The newcomer was almost exactly the same size and build that he was, clearly older, but still with very little gray hair and possessing some penetrating green eyes.

  “Everyone, I want you to meet Brother John. He’s the abbot of the monastery about seven miles away. Their property neighbors this property. Abbot, Cam, Shauna, and Helen.”

  “Pleased to meet you, abbot,” Cam said, shaking his hand. “Monastery? Here? In North Dakota? What’s it called?”

  “Cam, dear, take it easy on the poor man. You act like he’s an alien come to Earth,” Shauna told him.

  “It’s alright,” the abbot replied, chuckling. “Actually, Cam, there are several abbeys and monasteries scattered throughout the United States. The one I belong to is called Our Lady of the Plains Abbey.”

  “Umm, what, uh….order, I guess you’d call it, do you belong to?”

  “We are the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance, more commonly known as Trappists.”

  “I’ve heard of them. Aren’t they known for makin’ stuff like food and….beer?”

  “That’s right. We emphasize manual labor, and an abbey is expected to support itself, so our monks do baking and now brewing to make things that we sell to make money.”

  “Abbot John, I don’t mean to pester you with questions, but I’m fascinated. I’ve gotta say, I’m floored by the sight of someone like you bein’ here. I mean, in the first place, don’t your people have some code….er, I mean, vow of silence?”

  “That’s the popular perception, Cam, but it’s actually a myth. We do discourage idle talk, and strongly. The reason for that is that it can disturb our quietude and our ability to focus on God’s will. To minimize talk, Trappists have actually developed their own sign language. However, there have to be some exceptions, of course: Needed communication at work, spiritual exchange, or spontaneous conversation on special occasions.”

  “So I take it that your presence here falls into that third category.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Abbot John chuckled again. “One of our lay brothers alerted me to the arrival of your festival so close to us. He put a bug in my ear about possibly entering a few of our beers into your competitions to see how they stack up.”

  “I don’t understand,” Cam replied, confused. “I mean, if you sell your beer, why….”

  “Oh, our beer isn’t for sale….at least not yet,” the abbot explained. “You see, it is in the final stages of development. The recipe has been fine-tuned for the last two years, along with our own particular strain of yeast, which has been a lengthy process in itself. We feel that we have reached the point where our product is ready to be sold. However, as the wise lay brother pointed out, we need to avoid the echo chamber of our own members’ opinions and test it with outsiders. Although we usually have no use for competition, it will be very helpful in this case to see just how good our beers are.”

  “Well, I have nothing along those lines for you to compare,” Helen interrupted, “but I do have my well-known altbier for you to try.” She poured a cup for everyone present.

  Cam stared at the abbot, who took a healthy gulp of the beer. He wasn’t surprised, for he knew at least that Trappists, besides making beer for sale, also provided some to the monks for daily sustenance.

  “Great as always,” Sonny declared. “What do you think, John?”

  “I have to admit that it is not a style that I’m familiar with,” the abbot replied. “But it is certainly a very tasty beer, Helen.”

  The conversation was soon limited to the two women as the men stood silently working on their beers. Cam wanted to ask the abbot more questions, but didn’t want to seem like a pest. Besides, he would see John again, he was sure.

  “I ask that you excuse me now,” Abbot John said. “I must get back to the abbey. It was a pleasure meeting all of you.”

  “How are you gettin’ back?” Cam had to ask.

  “I borrowed one of our tractors,” John replied. “It provides a nice, slow ride.”

  After he had gone, as the two women continued chatting, Cam approached Sonny. “You look like you’re full of questions,” Lombardo sighed.

  “Yeah. I saw Richie Hobbs on the way in. We didn’t get to talk much, but he said that they managed to fight Utah off enough to wreck his Missouri plans for this year. But he also said that Phil’s crew will still be at work here.”

  “That’s right, Cam. The Stardust Boys surprised all of us. But there were others joining in, too, who tipped the scale. Me, Helen….”

  “Is there one person this has centered around? You know, a new….Trub?”

  “Well, I don’t think there’s one dominant figure, but one guy who has definitely stepped forward is Dale Sassie.”

  “Dale Sassie!?” Cam gasped, almost choking on his beer.

  “I guess it’s just too ironic,” Cam continued. “I mean, Dale Sassie takin’ on the role of the man he had big sparks with in the past.”

  “So, you know about their set-to years ago. Well, the thing about GWIBE is that some very strange shit happens every year.”

  “What did Dale do to suddenly stand out?”

  “Well, you’re not gonna believe this,” Sonny began, but then noticed the skeptical look on Cam’s face. “Yeah, OK, you are gonna believe it. That night when Utah ran for his life, got beaten inside Helen’s tent and fled for his life just before his fucking tent got burned down, he settled in at a hotel in the first city he could reach and immediately began e-mailing people reminding them that the next GWIBE was already set for Wainscott, Missouri, where he had his fix in. The Stardust Boys organized a campaign to wreck that and Dale got involved. Dale soon took over the boycott of Phil’s plan. It was made clear to dear Phil that the only people who would show up in Missouri would be himself, Tom Deville, Clay Sharper and a few others.”

  “I guess it’s no surprise, really. I only met Dale once, but he struck me as nobody who’s gonna get pushed around. Tell me, was he a big player in havin’ it brought here instead?”

  “Maybe. He passed this by other people and nobody objected. I don’t know the reason for this particular spot in North Dakota, but then again, nobody can ever really explain why this thing ends up in the places it does.”

  “Who are these new people Utah has with him, Sonny?”

  “The dyke I’m not concerned about. I see her as one of Utah’s harebrained schemes with that diversity shit and all. The one who interests me, the one to keep an eye on, is that Duke Lando. I can tell he’s no damned good, Cam. Think ruthless, predatory businessman.”

  “Yeah. He’s the owner of Flatlands Malting Company, I guess.”

  “He’s more than that. He also owns a majority piece of Flemwalloo Imports. Flemwalloo is short for Flemish and Walloon, the two main populations in Belgium. The company specializes in importing and distributing Belgian beers of all types. There are so many different styles of Belgian beer that it’s a full business in itself.”

  “It seems like Lando has got his fingers in many aspects of the beer business. Oh Christ, Sonny, is this another Utah scheme for corporate juice to take over GWIBE?”

  “That’s where I’d put my money, my boy. Get ready for the next round.”

  “All of those Belgian beers sound very enticin’ though, in a way.”

  “Some are fantastic, but you have to
have a certain taste for others. Some are really funky, some are pretty spicy from the yeast they use. The thing is, I hardly ever buy imported beer. It has to cross the ocean, and shippers don’t take very good care of it when it comes to heat and sunlight, so the end result often isn’t anywhere near as pretty as the outside of the bottle.”

  Their conversation was ended by the sudden intrusion of the Four Horsemen strolling into the site. Cam immediately noticed that they were dressed almost exactly the same way as they had been last year, and he shook his head. He replayed the images involving the four nerds from last year in his mind: Their torture of Tony Rizzo after catching him ruining Jan Vosloo’s beer that one fateful night, causing Rizzo to go mad and be shot dead in self-defense by a state trooper; their celebrity status within GWIBE that resulted; their being bailed out by the ever-watchful Gerhard Streicher, who got them out of serious felonies; and their presence in the mob that had wanted to kill Phil Utah outside of Trub’s tent one day. Cam hoped that the movie from last year was over for good.

  “Sonny! Our main man!” Ralphie Quinn yelled. Lombardo cracked a reluctant smile.

  “Helen! Shauna!” Eddie Kowalski, AKA Eight Ball, laughed.

  “My boys are back!” Helen cried, hugging them all. Shauna just gave a little smile and waved an acknowledgement. At least they won’t hit on Shauna anymore, Cam thought. They know she’s married now, since they were at the wedding, too. Funny thing is, I didn’t invite them….and Shauna certainly didn’t! But they just showed up anyway, like they were honoring us with their presence. Lacking money, as usual, their gift to us was a 50-pound sack of malt, which at least is practical.