The Glory Bus

by Richard Laymon

  Hank followed his own instructions. Norman watched in a kind of horrified fascination as the old coot squirted the contents of the rattlesnake’s egg into his mouth. It shot from the hole in the membrane like a ball of green mucus streaked red with blood.

  ‘Ah . . .’ Hank crowed with relish at such a delicious morsel. ‘Betcha ya’ll have tasted nothing like it!’

  ‘I bet you’re right.’ Norman swallowed. His mouth tasted of bile. His palms were sweating.

  Dear God, that looked just awful.

  Hank held out the hat so that Norman could see the cluster of glistening white eggs nested in there. ‘Want me to get one started fer ya?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m a . . . I’m a . . .’ Norman’s stomach twitched. ‘I’m a vegetarian.’

  ‘Shit, is that so? I’m a Libra.’

  Norman muttered something about leaving the shower running, then closed the door on the grinning man standing there with his hatful of snake eggs.

  Norman went back to lie on the sofa. Air played on his face from the fan.

  He had to work hard not to recall the image of Hank gulping down with gusto the slimy green contents of the snake egg.

  Had to work very hard.

  Ten minutes later he realized he wasn’t going to puke after all.

  But it was a close-run thing.

  And just when Norman began to think that life was looking better the trailer door opened. In stepped Boots and Duke.

  They had guns in their hands.

  ‘Norman. Time to start the show.’ Duke sat down in the armchair opposite him.

  Boots chose to park her butt on the arm of the sofa.

  Norman remembered how a naked Boots had made love to a willowy naked Nicki. The thought made him warm.

  Made it hard to look Boots in the eye as well.

  But then, the guns they carried had their own magnetic attraction for his attention. Boots carried a revolver. Looked like a .38 home-protection model. Duke carried a .357 Magnum in his right hand and in his left a Glock automatic. It was gold-plated, too. A rich man’s toy.

  Norman had to ask an obvious question. ‘Where’d you get the guns?’

  Boots said, ‘While you were sleepin’ on the ride down here we got them from a guy driving a motor home.’

  ‘Guess he didn’t complain.’ Norman wore his fixed smile, so as not to rile Duke.

  ‘Boots worked the ol’ Boots magic,’ Duke said. ‘While he was on top of Boots pluggin’ her water hole like their lives depended on it I—’ He made a clicking sound as he ran his thumb across his throat, miming a knife slicing a trachea. ‘I relieved him of these beauties that he’d got stowed away.’

  ‘Nice work,’ Norman said, nodding.

  ‘Boots is the gal who gets all the praise.’

  ‘Oh, I did nothin’,’ she simpered. ‘Just smiled and opened my legs.’

  ‘Like I said,’ Duke told him. ‘The old Boots magic.’

  ‘They look like formidable pieces.’ Norman eyed the guns. ‘Know your way around them?’

  ‘Sure we do.’ Boots spun the ammo cylinder of her revolver. It made a clicking sound. ‘While you were sleeping we got some practise in, too.’

  While I was sleeping? While I was unconscious, more like. After the beating Duke gave me it’s a miracle I woke up at all.

  ‘Here’s your piece, Normy.’ Duke handed him the Glock automatic.

  ‘But I don’t know anything about—’

  ‘Nothing to it. It’s an auto, a Model 20. Just point and pull the trigger. It’s a ten-millimeter. A fucking cannon. Course, you gotta remember to take the safety off first. It’s this little doohickey here.’ Duke showed him how to slide the safety catch across.

  ‘But we’re not actually gonna shoot anybody?’

  ‘I guess not.’ Boots sounded disappointed.

  ‘These are to back up our suggestion that we take over the running of the town,’ Duke said.

  ‘They’ll be powerful persuaders,’ Norman allowed as he felt the weight of the gun in his hand. And when he remembered what Duke had told him, about Nicki being his when the plan was complete, he began to smile.

  Duke asked, ‘What’re you smiling about, bud?’

  ‘I’m just thinking about the future. About how much we’re going to enjoy ourselves.’

  ‘Damn straight.’ Duke smiled too. ‘Okay, if you guys are ready.’ His smile became a leer. ‘Let’s do this crazy thing.’

  Chapter Forty-four

  ‘Cafe first,’ Duke told them.

  Holy shit. This is like a Wild West showdown.

  And we’re the Jesse James gang.

  Mean, dangerous, armed.

  The time was nearing high noon. Norman walked to the right of Duke, Boots to the left. They walked purposefully across the parking lot, their feet raising puffs of dust with every step. Boots wore her white cowgirl boots. Duke strode manfully in his motorcycle boots. Norman wore sneakers. The sun burned down from directly above, hardly casting a shadow.

  Deserted.

  Not a sound.

  No vehicles on the road.

  No people.

  No birdsong.

  Only a death silence. Like the grim reaper had put his bony finger to fleshless lips and breathed, ‘Shhhh . . .’

  Old Mister Death knew what was going down.

  He’d seen it happen before in Pits. This was frontier country. A hundred years ago there’d been plenty of shoot-outs. Some gambler, maybe, who’d slipped an ace from his cuff once too often. Or two guys arguing over a burlesque dancer.

  Story’s the same.

  Out come the guns.

  Blam! Blam! Blam!

  Then comes the solemn procession behind the long pine box up to the desert cemetery.

  Norman felt terrified.

  Felt excited.

  Now, this is a hunk of history repeating itself.

  The three of us walking in a line with guns in our hands. Three desperados.

  Gonna make this town of Pits our own.

  They’d chosen their time. Waiting for a lull in customers.

  Duke squinted against the sun. ‘Sharpe’s gone,’ he said.

  ‘One less to worry about,’ Boots added.

  ‘Yup.’

  They crossed the furrows in the dust left by Sharpe’s bus. He’d gone out ‘saving people’ again. Ahead lay the line of abandoned trucks and cars. Then the cafe itself.

  ‘In through the back way?’ Norman asked.

  ‘Nope. The front door. We own this place now.’ Duke spat into the dust.

  Above them vultures glided in circles.

  Norman nodded. ‘Okay.’

  They circled round the front. There were customers after all. Two big Harleys stood by the front door.

  ‘I never saw those arrive,’ Boots said.

  ‘It’s not a problem. Come on.’

  Duke shoved open the cafe door. They followed him in.

  Inside were two bikers. Chunky guys in black leather. They were a couple of hard-asses. They sat at the counter.

  Waiting tables was Pamela. Cooking the food was Lauren.

  Norman ran the mental file. That meant Wes, Hank and Nicki were absent.

  ‘Cafe’s closed,’ Duke announced.

  ‘Hey,’ one of the bikers snarled. ‘We ain’t eaten yet.’

  Duke raised the hand that held the Magnum. Its six-inch barrel in blue steel looked wicked beyond belief.

  ‘Take that fucking gun out of my face,’ the biker warned. ‘Like I said, we ain’t eaten yet.’

  ‘Steak’s off but here’s your dessert.’ Duke fired. The heavy round smacked into the biker’s forehead. He flopped back like a dead seal. Rubbery. Heavy. What was left of his head made a loud smacking sound as it hit the floor.

  ‘It’s cool,’ the other biker said. ‘I don’t want no—’

  Boots fired. A cock shot. The biker squealed and clamped both hands between his legs.

  Duke nodded at Norman. ‘Finish him.’

 
Norman fired the Glock automatic. The big cartridge filled the cafe with an ear-splitting noise. A glass on the table beside him shattered, the report was so loud.

  The ten-millimeter round struck the guy dead center in the chest. He went down, pumping blood.

  Duke shook his head. ‘You should have listened to me first time around. I said the cafe is closed.’

  Norman saw Pamela and Lauren staring at the three ‘desperados’ in horror.

  Duke touched his eyebrow in salute. ‘Let it be known that . . .’ He hunted for the phrase.

  Norman supplied it. ‘From henceforth.’

  ‘Thank you, Norman. Let it be known from henceforth that I am the master of Pits. Boots and Norman here are my deputies. My word is law. Okay?’

  Lauren opened her mouth, ready to protest.

  Norman stepped in. ‘Just relax, take it easy. Everything’s going to be fine.’

  Boots sang out. ‘We’re gonna have a great time. This is the start of a real good friendship.’

  Norman glanced at her. She smiled. But there was an emptiness to her brown eyes. As if a whole chunk of her vision was directed inward to some dark recess of her mind. Not outward to the people in the cafe.

  ‘That’s right,’ Duke agreed. ‘A real close friendship. And we’re gonna make this town a cool place to be. More girls. More fun.’

  ‘All right,’ Norman enthused. He stared at Pamela in her figure-hugging sweater and shorts. He liked the dinky waitress outfit.

  Kinda sexy. Shame that Duke has laid claim to her.

  Duke was still pointing his handgun but he used his free hand to reach into his shirt pocket, pull out a carton of cigarettes and slip one long white cylinder from the pack, using his lips. After returning the pack to his pocket he lit a match one-handed too, then inhaled deeply.

  ‘We regret the mess those two guys made.’ He nodded at the dead bikers.

  Hot shit. Duke’s blaming the two guys for bleeding all over the frigging floor. It’s as if shooting them had nothing to do with it.

  Norman went along with Duke’s line. ‘We’ll get it cleaned up in no time.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lauren said. ‘We’ve handled plenty of dead meat before.’

  Norman noticed the little glance that Pamela shot her friend. As if there was more meaning loaded into those few words than was at first apparent.

  ‘Question is,’ Boots wiggled her finger against the trigger of her revolver as if her skin was getting itchy, ‘what are we going to do with you two?’

  ‘Lock them up,’ Norman said quickly before Boots decided to dispatch the two babes.

  ‘Here?’ Boots wrinkled her snout-like nose. ‘They’d escape easy.’

  ‘No,’ Norman said.

  ‘Trailers are no good either,’ Duke observed.

  ‘The house on the hill. Bound to be a cellar or something,’ Norman said.

  ‘Sounds good to me, Norman, old buddy.’

  Boots moved so that she could look through the door into the kitchen. ‘Where are the others?’

  Probably wondering where beautiful blonde Nicki is, Norman thought. After I saw Boots making love to Nicki this morning she might be wanting to stake her claim.

  No fair.

  Duke promised Nicki to me.

  Norman began to wonder if there was a way of getting rid of Boots somewhere down the line. Those dead brown eyes gave him the creeps. Watching that girl-on-girl action had been fun but he didn’t want Boots hogging all the good times with Nicki.

  Lauren looked at Pamela, then said, ‘I don’t know where they are.’

  ‘You sure you ain’t seen Nicki?’

  See! Norman’s face flushed. Boots wants a second helping.

  Boy oh boy, does Boots have to go.

  ‘And when you expectin’ Sharpe back?’ Duke asked.

  ‘He can be gone for days,’ Lauren answered.

  ‘Where are the others likely to be? Wes and the old-timer?’

  ‘Around.’ Pamela shrugged.

  Lauren added, ‘They’ve all got their chores.’

  ‘Okay.’ Duke slipped his gun into the belt of his pants. ‘You ladies aren’t gonna give us no trouble, are you?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Pamela’s shock was being replaced by anger. ‘You three have got the guns.’

  ‘Feisty. I like it.’ Duke was pleased.

  ‘I’ll give you feisty,’ Pamela snarled.

  Boots raised her gun again. ‘And we can give you a tit full of lead, so don’t get antsy.’

  Norman played the diplomacy bit. ‘Remember? Nice and easy, then no one’s gonna get hurt.’

  Duke nodded. ‘Norman’s got brain. Take his advice, okay?’ His stare hardened. ‘Okay?’

  Both Lauren and Pamela nodded. Norman noticed the fire still burning in Pamela’s gaze. She wanted to take a swing at Boots.

  Norman wondered if she ever would.

  Catfight.

  Could be fun.

  Could be a way of getting Boots out of the picture.

  ‘Now we’re all being sweet with one another let’s take that walk up to the house. Norman, lock the door to the cafe. Put up the closed sign.’

  ‘I’m onto it.’

  ‘Ladies.’ Duke nodded toward the kitchen door. ‘Promenade time. We’ll head out back, then up to the house. If we see any of the others don’t do anything bitchin’ stupid like shouting out warnings or shit like that. You follow?’

  They both nodded.

  ‘Sweet. Lead the way, ladies.’

  They worked their way up through the cemetery. Past the tombs of guys who’d lost gunfights a hundred years ago. Then by the tombs of the monkeys. The house shimmered in heat haze in front of them.

  Lauren and Pamela led the way. Their bare legs looked captivating to Norman.

  Boots complained about the heat.

  Complained that Nicki was nowhere to be seen.

  Duke walked in silence. Cool as ever.

  They didn’t see any of the remaining inhabitants of Pits.

  As they climbed onto the porch of the house Nicki was just stepping through the front door.

  ‘Makes three,’ Boots said brightly.

  ‘Now to locate Wes and Hank,’ Duke said.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Nicki asked. The sight of the guns startled her.

  ‘Nothing to worry about, ma’am. We’re taking charge of Pits for your own protection.’

  ‘Our own protection?’ Nicki echoed. ‘We don’t need—’

  ‘Nicki,’ Lauren said calmly. ‘Do as they say.’

  Nicki watched Boots with a pained look in her eyes. Norman figured that she was recalling the sweet, sweet tongue-loving she’d had from Boots this morning and was feeling hurt by the betrayal.

  ‘Boots, why are you doing this to me? I thought we—’

  ‘It’s getting mighty hot out here. If I don’t get some coolness soon I won’t be able to stop myself pulling this trigger.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Pamela placated the pig-girl. ‘Don’t worry. We’re doing as you say. Nicki, go back into the house please.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘They’ve promised they’re not going to hurt us.’

  Nicki nodded. Her blue eyes were watchful as she pushed her long blonde hair back behind her shoulder.

  Clearly doesn’t trust us an inch, Norman thought.

  The interior of the house was as dark as a cave. Norman hoped that it would be as cool as one, too.

  But no.

  He followed everyone into the gloomy hallway. It was hot, with a musty atmosphere. Still, at least they were out of the fierce sunlight.

  Duke said, ‘We need to find somewhere comfortable for the ladies.’ He opened a door at random.

  Norman nearly told him not to bother with that one. It was the big empty room with no furniture where Boots and Nicki had got throbbingly naked with each other.

  Norman decided against saying anything.

  Don’t want to give myself away, reveal that I was watching
them. I don’t want them thinking I’m some kind of pervmeister, do I?

  ‘Empty room,’ Duke told them.

  Boots said, ‘Has it got windows? It’s no good if it’s got windows.’

  Rather than the sweet, simple-minded character that Norman had first encountered, Boots’d become edgy of late. Instead of being easygoing, her nerves now had a brittle quality.

  Wish she’d put the fucking gun away.

  Norman began to sweat.

  Anxiety sweat. Nothing to do with the heat.

  Duke checked the downstairs rooms. ‘All got windows,’ he announced. ‘Too easy to break out of.’

  ‘There’s gotta be a basement,’ Boots said, hopeful.

  ‘I don’t doubt,’ Duke replied. ‘But a basement’s no place for a lady.’

  ‘They’ll live,’ Boots said. Then she added, ‘Or we could tie ’em up.’

  ‘These are our friends. You don’t tie up people who’re your friends.’

  Norman decided that a contribution from him was needed. ‘An upstairs room. They’re not gonna jump out of a bedroom window and risk busting a leg.’

  ‘Good thinking, Normy.’ Duke glanced up at the grand stairway that ran in a long curve to the next floor.

  Norman looked up, too. It was a huge void full of shadows.

  Spooky.

  Duke put his boot on the first step.

  The step creaked.

  That creak went echoing up the staircase like the footsteps of a ghost.

  At last Nicki blurted out, ‘You can’t go up there.’

  ‘Can’t?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You just can’t.’ Nicki was gasping with fear.

  ‘Oh, can’t I?’ Duke pulled the Magnum from his belt. ‘Wes up there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The old-timer?’

  ‘He’s away dumping trash.’

  ‘What’s so important up there that you don’t want your bud Duke to see?’

  Nicki blurted again, ‘You can’t go up there.’