AFTER

by Kelly, Ronald

  Soon, they were on the floor, engulfed in the fire of passion. Clothing was discarded as they hungered for one another. Wantonly, they rolled around on the carpet – kissing, biting, licking.

  "Let's do it," she moaned softly. "But it's been a while…"

  "We'll take it nice and easy, baby," he said in the smooth Southern drawl of the man he had spent most of his life making a living off of. "Just help me outta these jeans, will you?"

  They almost had Roy's pants off, when the floor underneath suddenly began to rumble and roar. At first, thoughts of an earthquake crossed their mind. After all, the city of Memphis was located over a fault. But, no, there was definitely something unnatural about this phenomenon. Something man-made.

  Startled, they heard the squeak and clank of heavy machinery beneath the floorboards. With a pneumatic hiss and a burst of cool sanitized air, a circular section of the floor seven feet away suddenly lurched upward and swung back with a metallic clang.

  Frightened, Roy and Darlene stared at the blue-white glow of fluorescent light emanating from the hole in the floor. An image of aliens emerging from a spacecraft suddenly crossed Darlene's mind, but the one who actually appeared was far more surprising than any extra-terrestrial might have been.

  "Lordy Mercy!" came a familiar voice. "What's going on up here?”

  A man's head emerged from out of the opening. Against the brilliance of the inner light, his profile stood out in relief. It was a profile they both knew almost intimately.

  Shocked, Roy and Darlene watched as he stepped up out of the hole and stretched. Then he looked around. "Damn! Look what they did to my room. The sorry sons-of-bitches!"

  "Who…who…?" stammered Darlene. But she really didn't need to ask.

  The man was elderly, in his late seventies, but was whipcord lean and fit as a fiddle. His shock of snow-white hair was combed into a shapely pompadour reminiscent of the 1950's, with a few stray strands falling down over his forehead. He was dressed in a black leather jumpsuit; one that had been a fixture of his '68 Comeback Special.

  "Who am I?" he said with a chuckle. "Why, I'm the king of this here castle, baby." He lifted his brows in amusement. "Now why don't you two get decent? Cover up those titties and put away that pecker and introduce yourselves."

  Darlene quickly pulled the cups of her bra up over her breasts. "Uh, I'm Darlene Palowski from Chicago."

  Roy was so stunned by the man's sudden appearance that he nearly caught himself in his zipper. "I'm Roy." Self-consciously, he finished his introduction. "Um… Roy Rogers."

  The man threw back his head and laughed. "You know, that's pretty funny, man. That's like if my real name was Tom Jones or something."

  "So you're really him?" muttered Roy. "You're actually…"

  "In the flesh," said the old man.

  Roy hardly knew what to say to the man he had idolized since high school. "This is a real honor, Mr. Pres—"

  The old man raised a hand. "Just call me Big E."

  "But… but you're dead," said Darlene. Just looking at him made her feel a little lightheaded and dizzy.

  "Afraid that was all my doing, darling," Big E said almost apologetically. "Sorry about that."

  Not only was Roy shocked, but as a lifelong fan he was swiftly feeling a sense of betrayal. "So you really faked your own death? How come?"

  Big E took a seat on a charred mound that had once been a heavy oaken armchair. "Well, you see, it was for a reason. I was in fear for my life. The Mafia had a contract out on me."

  Darlene's eyes widened. "The Memphis Mafia?"

  Big E shook his head. "Naw, not my own guys! The real deal. It seemed that some of the performers in Vegas weren't too happy about me horning in on their action. So one of them put a hit out on me."

  "Who? Sinatra? Newton?"

  "No, it was that fella with the big-ass voice. The Camelot-singing dude."

  "Robert Goulet?"

  "Yeah, him. Or was it Jim Nabors? Hell, I don't know. My memory ain't what it used to be."

  Roy was trying to sort it all out in his head. "So that was just a wax dummy they had laid out in the casket in '77?"

  Big E chuckled. "Not wax. Believe it or not, it was constructed entirely of pork sausage."

  "What?"

  "That's right. One of the Jordanaires told me about this fella down in Alabama who was a real artist. Used pork fat and gristle the way the Renaissance masters worked in marble and oils. Funny thing was, that dummy kinda smelled like me, so that went a long way convincing folks, too."

  In the fluorescent glow of the open hatch, Big E's face grew introspective and a bit sad. "You know, after my demise had been announced and the ol' death wagon was on the roll, I sorta regretted pulling the stunt. Here I thought people had forgotten about the King and I'll be damned if everybody and their mama didn't show up here at the house. All those pretty gals squawling and bawling like I was Lord Jesus laid out in the tomb. I just about jumped out of where I was hiding and hollered 'Hey, it was just a joke, y'all. Here I am!' But by then it was too late."

  Roy pointed to the opening in the Jungle Room floor. "So you've been living down there ever since?"

  "Exactly what is down there?" asked Darlene curiously.

  "A big ol' bomb shelter I had built in '62, back when the Cold War was in full swing. The thing is a freaking fortress, four stories down with steel walls a yard thick."

  "And you've stayed down there for decades?"

  "Oh, I haven't been there all the time. I took a big road trip back in the 80's. Man, I saw everything I never got a chance to see when I was famous. Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, Roswell. Had me a fine ol' time. Then some jackass in Indiana recognized me at a Burger King and I headed home, just to be on the safe side."

  Darlene stared at the hatch in the floor. "Would you mind some company? I mean, it'd sure beat living the way we have since the Burn went down."

  Big E shrugged his shoulders. "Ya'll can have it. I ain't going back down there."

  "How come?"

  "Cause it's too damn depressing for a man my age," he told them. "Too clean. Sterile like a hospital… or a nursing home."

  "But do you really want to live up here?" asked Roy. "In all this filth and depravity?"

  "Well, now, maybe we don't have to." A sly grin crossed Big E's face. "You wanna know something? I own my own Caribbean island. It's down past St. Thomas. Pretty little place… all grass huts, coconut trees, and brown-skinned gals with big boobs. I wanted to buy one of the Hawaiian Islands once. Boy Howdy, I loved Hawaii! But the Colonel put the kibosh on that plan. The money-sucking leech."

  "Memphis is a hell of a long way from the Caribbean," Roy reminded him.

  "Oh, we could get there. I've got a souped-up speedboat under lock and key down on the river, ready to go. Just a quick trip to the Gulf, then we're home-free. Out into open water and we'd be there in two days. We'd lie out there on those white sand beaches and live it up… just like Brooke Shields and that curly-haired boy in The Blue Lagoon."

  "So this is for real?" asked Darlene, hope gleaming in her eyes.

  "Hey, Big E don't lie… except for that whole death deal and all." He glanced out the side windows. The sun had gone down and twilight blanketed the surrounding grounds in darkness. "But if we're going, we'd best do it now. It'll be a lot safer making it to the river at night."

  "But how will we get there?"

  "Just leave that up to me, sugar dumplin'," he told her with a wink that made her a little weak in the knees, even if he was older than Methuselah.

  Soon, they left the Jungle Room behind. They were exiting the house when Big E glanced at a portrait hanging on the wall… one of his ex-wife and daughter. The picture had been defiled in a dozen humiliating ways. Someone had scrawled a crude sketch of an exaggerated penis in close proximity to the little girl's mouth.

  A dangerous look shown in Big E's eyes. "If I ever come across the bastard who did that, I'll kill him." Roy and Darlene had no doubt that he would,
too.

  The two followed him outside, past the racquetball court. "Oh, I've been meaning to ask y'all something that's been on my mind lately," he said.

  "What do you do for food up here? I've heard rumors that folks are… well, eating one another."

  Roy and Darlene looked at each other, a little embarrassed. "Well, there's not much else to eat…"

  "Mercy! So it's true." He puzzled over it for a moment. "What do you do? Pan fry 'em, put 'em on a spit, chop 'em up and make a pot of chili?"

  "Do you really want to know?"

  Big E shook his head. "I reckon not. But let me tell you right here and now… I ain't never gonna chew on somebody's filthy ass."

  Soon, they found themselves standing in a garage hidden out back. He motioned toward a vehicle draped in a black velvet tarp. "Well, here she is," he said, pulling the cover away with a flourish. "The Pink Lady."

  "I've seen this car somewhere before," said Roy.

  "It was my mama's car," said Big E. "Bought it for her after the money started rolling in. She couldn't drive a lick, but, hey, if anyone deserved a Caddy it was her. After she died, I had it tricked up. Reinforced plating in the panels and fenders, bulletproof glass, solid rubber tires that won't deflate. As solid as a Panzer, man."

  Before they left, Big E went to a gun safe and, unlocking it, passed out the firepower. "Lock and load, hoss," he said, tossing Roy an Uzi submachine gun. He took a MAC-10 for himself. Then he turned to Darlene. "Here you go, darling. You can carry Big E's personal gun." He laid a gold-plated .357 Magnum in the woman's hand. It had music notes engraved down its ribbed barrel and the initials EP on the sides of the cylinder.

  "I've never fired a gun before in my life," she confessed.

  "Well, here now, let me give you a quick lesson." Big E leaned in close behind her and showed her how to line up the sights of the big revolver. At one point, she felt his hips grind against her ass and she closed her eyes with a shudder that was not unpleasant. She thought of how many thousands of teenage girls had screamed their lungs out over the Pelvis and here it was grinding against her hindquarters.

  Roy cleared his throat, a little annoyed. "Uh, shouldn't we be going?"

  "Right!" said Big E with a sheepish grin. "Climb on in and we'll head out."

  Soon, they were taking an access road past the horse pasture and around the Memorial Garden where Big E's sausage carcass lay moldering in its grave. A moment later they were on the main road outside. Big E spun the wheel with a squealing of tires and they headed downtown.

  They hadn't gotten a few blocks, when they passed the black Hummer with the piano keys on the side. It roared past them, then made a U-turn and sped toward them in hot pursuit.

  "Aw, not that nut!" grumbled Big E.

  "Who is it?" asked Darlene. A burst from an automatic pistol echoed from behind, sending a bee swarm of 9mm slugs careening harmlessly against the back windshield.

  "The Killer."

  Roy thought about it for a second. "You don't mean…?"

  "One and the same," he replied. "He always was jealous of me. Hell, he would have probably been just as popular, if he hadn't done a darn fool thing like marrying his cousin and bragging about it."

  "He's gaining on us," said Darlene. "What are we going to do?"

  "Watch this," said Big E. He tripped a lever under the dash. Black oil began to spray from spigots in the rear bumper, coating the road in crude. The Hummer hit the slick and went into a spin. The driver lost control and ended up taking down a telephone pole at the side of the road.

  Big E laughed loudly. "How'd y'all like that. I pulled a James Bond on his silly ass. Right out of Goldfinger, man!"

  They drove through the deserted streets of Memphis for a while longer, then Big E turned the wheel, heading off the main stretch.

  "I thought we were going downtown," said Roy.

  "Just hold your horses. We'll get there," he assured him. "First, I gotta stop by and see someone."

  "Who?"

  Big E smiled in the green glow of the dashboard light. "The Zulu Woman."

  Purgatory Heights had once been three blocks of housing projects on the south side of Memphis. The brick buildings were six stories high, surrounded by scrubby lawns and basketball courts. Before the Burn they had been a haven for crack dealers and gang-bangers. Now they were a short step from the gates of Hell.

  As they cruised between two of the buildings, they looked through the windows of the Pink Lady at the chaos around them. The glass from all the windows was gone and flames crackled from the empty orifices. A human head dangled within the net of a basketball goal, its eyes glassy and unseeing. It stared at them as if saying "Better get out of here while you can."

  "Doesn't look like the better part of town," said Roy, cradling the Uzi in his lap.

  "Exactly who is this Zulu Woman?" Darlene wanted to know.

  "A little gal I've known for awhile," said Big E. "Been corresponding with her on the internet since she was twelve or thirteen. Her mama was one of my backup singers in Vegas."

  "How do you know that she's even here?"

  "Oh, she's around somewhere." He stopped the car and cut the engine. "Watch my back."

  Big E stepped out of the car, holding his MAC-10 at the ready. "Zulu!" he yelled out, studying the windowless buildings. Out in the open, it looked as though the bricks and the mortar in between had been smeared with blood and brain tissue. "Zulu Woman! Come on out and say hi to your Sugar Daddy!"

  Suddenly, movement drew his attention. He looked up to the rooftop of a building and saw a dark form standing there, tall and willowy. She held a compound bow at the ready… aimed directly at him.

  "Seems to me a Sugar Daddy has a stick in it," she said coldly. "Best get on outta here or I'll put this arrow down your throat and out your white ass!"

  "Aw, come on, Zulu," he said. "You know me. It's your ol' pal, Big E."

  "Liar!" accused the woman. "The King ain't gonna leave his kingdom and show up unannounced at the Heights. Hell, there's all kinda nuts running around, looking and sounding like him." At that moment, Roy stepped out of the car. "Damn! There's one right there!"

  "Hey, I'm the genuine article, baby doll," claimed Big E. "Why don't you come on down and see for yourself?"

  Zulu stood there, poised to fire, for a long moment. Then she slowly relaxed her grip on the bow and slung it over her shoulder. "Okay. But if you ain't who you say you are, I'm gonna be mighty pissed off. And you don't even wanna know what I'm gonna do to you then."

  Darlene left the Pink Lady and stood next to Roy. They watched as the woman dropped a nylon rope from the rooftop and rappelled six stories to the courtyard below. A moment later, she stood before them.

  Okay, thought Darlene. So that's why he calls her Zulu Woman.

  The woman was taller than most professional basketball players, perhaps six foot nine or more, thin and sinewy, and as black as pitch. Around her neck and wrists were a necklace and bracelets made of teeth and denuded finger bones. She wore a halter and loincloth that looked to be made of human flesh… Caucasian in nature. The makeshift garments were decorated with Aryan prison tattoos. Her afro was tied tightly into buns on both sides of her head, making her look like a cross between Princess Leia and Mickey Mouse, although no one on God's scorched earth would have had the balls to tell her that to her face.

  She stared hard at the man in the black leather outfit. "Hey… it is you." A frown crossed her lean face. "Damn, you're old!"

  "Just because there's snow on the rooftop, don't mean there ain't fire in the furnace," said Big E. He studied her attire. "Looks like you've been skinning skin-heads, Zulu."

  The woman grinned, showing strong, white teeth. "Yeah. A bunch of the rednecks came down here in a pickup truck a month ago, looking to pull a train on me and get themselves a piece." She drew a long-bladed skinning knife from a sheath tied to her right calf. "But, instead, they ended up in pieces. Sorta tough and gamey, but they made good jerky."

 
; "Aw, Zulu," groaned Big E. "Don't tell me you've been eating folks, too."

  She glared at him, fists planted firmly on her narrow hips. "Well, I reckon I didn't have any freaking peanut butter and banana sandwiches to feed my face, so I had to eat honky instead!"

  The King shook his head. "Girl, you've got a tongue like a viper. Just like your mama."

  Zulu's face softened a bit. "Tell me something, E. Was she really a good singer?"

  "The best songbird who ever worked for me," he told her. "Why, when she backed me up on "My Way" or "Suspicious Minds", Lordy, her voice was so sweet it made my pubic hairs stand on end."

  Zulu rolled her eyes. "Mama always did say you were too horny for your own good."

  Big E winked. "I reckon she'd know better than most, wouldn't she?"

  Darlene held her breath. She half expected the woman to step forward and disembowel Big E with that wicked knife of hers. But nothing of the sort took place. Instead, they seemed to trade an expression of mutual understanding. Suddenly, Darlene began to detect a distinct similarity in their facial features. The same shape of brow and jawline, the same smoldering blue eyes.

  "So what brings you outta the bowels of the earth and down here to Purgatory, Big E?" asked Zulu. "I know you ain't just paying a social call."

  "Remember that Caribbean island I've told you about? Well, that's where we're heading. Just wanted to know if you'd like to join the entourage. Sure beats this jungle-bunny warrior crap you've been living."

  Zulu considered his offer. "You know, I could sure go for a warmer climate. I might just take you up on that, E."

  It was at that moment, that they all noticed a sound echoing from the distance. A sound like hundreds of hoof beats on asphalt. It was low at first, then began to increase in volume.

  "Dammit!" said Zulu. A frightened look shown in her dark face. "It's the Herd!"

  "What's the Herd?" asked Darlene. She heard a hoarse bellowing, full of rage and menace. It was followed by a dozen more, just as furious.

  "Load your big ol' butt in the car, Blondie, and I'll tell you later," she said. "Right now, we gotta get the hell outta here!"