by AnonYMous
‘Do you mind if I do it?’ Beth asked.
‘It’s all yours.’
Beth took the blue stone from Kacy. ‘Do you still want the chain?’ she asked.
‘Nah, it’s okay,’ said Kacy. ‘It’s worthless. Throw the whole thing in the sea if you want.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah. Go nuts. Chuck it as far as you can.’
Beth took a long look at the chain in her hand. The Eye of the Moon was a beautiful stone, but it had been the cause of many, many deaths in Santa Mondega. To keep possession of it was dangerous. She looked back up at Kacy, her eyes close to tears again. ‘You know, the last time I threw a necklace off the end of this pier, JD came back to me.’
Kacy reached out to Beth and rubbed her arm gently. ‘Then you should definitely do it. It could be the sign that brings him back again.’
The two women embraced for a few seconds. Kacy could sense from the way Beth clung tightly to her that she’d made a good friend. Eventually, Beth peeled herself away and walked back to the end of the pier. Kacy watched her take one last look at the Eye of the Moon in her hand before, with one almighty throw, she tossed it out into the sea. It hit the surface of the water and made a gentle plopping sound. Then it vanished beneath the waves.
Beth didn’t turn back right away. Instead she continued to stare out to sea, looking to the horizon, as if she hoped it would bring her some answers.
Dante sneaked up behind Kacy and slipped his arms around her waist. ‘It’s just like the end of Top Gun isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You know, when Maverick throws Goose’s dog tags out to sea?’
Kacy rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Sweetie, it’s nothing like Top Gun.’
‘No. I think it is.’
They argued about the relevance of Top Gun for a while longer as Beth stared out at the sea. Eventually the three of them left the harbour and headed to the Tapioca for a celebratory drink.
Sixty-Three
Six months later
Sanchez hated strangers coming into his bar. Unfortunately for him, Flake fucking loved them and was regularly organising events to encourage new customers into the Tapioca. It made Sanchez livid, but he had to grudgingly admit that Flake had transformed the place and profits were up because of her efforts.
For the first time ever, the Tapioca was hosting a wedding reception. Dante and Kacy had just been married at the Church of the Blessed Saint Ursula. Sanchez quite liked Dante and Kacy, so out of respect (and as a promise to Flake) he’d hidden the piss bottle away and was serving only proper drinks for a change.
Flake was out back with one of his other new employees, Mental Beth. The pair of them had been bridesmaids at the wedding. They were still wearing the pink dresses Kacy had picked out for them, but instead of enjoying the festivities they were busy preparing a finger buffet for the rest of the guests.
Beth had actually turned out to be a lot less mental than Sanchez had been led to believe. She was hard working and got on really well with Flake, so he’d had to stop referring to her as Mental whenever Flake was around otherwise he tended to get a clip around the ear. He kind of felt bad for Beth too. The Bourbon Kid had vanished and it was pretty evident that she was lonely and desperate to know what had become of him.
Dante was seated on a stool at the bar. He was wearing a smart black tuxedo and drinking a bottle of Shitting Monkey beer. He chatted with Sanchez whenever the bartender had a free moment. Sanchez had never seen him look so smart. Then again, Sanchez had rarely been dressed smarter himself. He too was wearing a suit, a fine bright yellow one he’d picked out for himself at the local flea market.
Dante had barely taken his eyes off Kacy all day. Sanchez recognised the look too because he’d begun to look at Flake the same way in recent months.
‘She sure does look beautiful in that wedding dress,’ Sanchez remarked.
‘Yeah,’ Dante nodded. ‘Look at how happy she is, mingling with all them people.’
Kacy was standing by a table in the corner. She was wearing a glistening white wedding dress and chatting with a few of the other drinkers. In her hand she had a large glass of red wine.
‘Who are those people she’s talking to?’ Sanchez asked.
‘I have no fuckin’ idea,’ Dante replied. ‘She’s shitfaced, man. She’ll talk to anyone when she’s like that. I don’t even think those people were at the wedding.’
‘What about this guy?’ Sanchez asked, nodding at a stranger who had just entered the Tapioca and was making his way up to the bar.
Dante took a long look at the new arrival. ‘I hope he’s not a long lost uncle or something,’ he said. ‘Look at the state of him.’
As with all strangers in Santa Mondega, this guy was weird looking. He was in his early forties and walked with a bit of a limp. He was unshaven and scruffily dressed. He wore a dirty grey overcoat that needed a trip to the dry cleaners and a pair of black pants held up by a piece of string.
The stranger took up a place at the bar on a stool next to Dante. ‘Yo, bartender, can you get me a dark rum please?’ he asked.
Sanchez was immediately annoyed that he’d left the piss bottle out back. He begrudgingly picked up a clean glass and poured out a measure of real rum. He placed it down on the bartop.
‘Three bucks.’
The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a five dollar bill. As he handed it over to Sanchez he asked another question. ‘You know where I can find someone called Beth Lansbury?’
A quiet hush descended over the bar and before Sanchez could answer, Beth and Flake both came out from the kitchen to see who had asked the question.
‘Who wants to know?’ Sanchez asked.
‘Me, obviously,’ said the man. ‘That’s why I asked.’
Sanchez wasn’t particularly one for looking out for other people, but he knew that any enemies of the Bourbon Kid might come looking for Beth, so he played it cool. ‘What you wanna see her about?’
‘You know where she is?’
‘That depends on what your intentions are.’
‘I’ve got something for her.’
‘You can give it to me. I’ll pass it on.’
The barroom remained quiet. The large heavy duty propeller fan hanging from the ceiling was the only thing making any noise as it whirred around at a lazy pace.
The man sniffed his glass of rum, then took a sip. ‘You’re Sanchez, right?’ he said, placing the glass back down on the bar.
‘I might be.’
‘Yeah, I was told you’d be an awkward prick.’
Dante leaned over and nudged the man’s arm. ‘Hey, buddy. Watch who you’re calling a prick.’
Sanchez waved Dante away. ‘It’s all right, I’ve been called worse.’
The stranger sighed. ‘Let me explain to you why I’m here.’
Sanchez picked up a white towel from under the bar and began wiping the bar to give the impression he was disinterested. ‘Here we go,’ he said. ‘He’s gonna tell us a story now.’
The stranger looked around, and noticing that he had the attention of everyone in the bar, he raised his voice so that everyone could hear what he had to say.
‘I’ve come from a small community down South. A place called Lakeland. Anyone heard of it?’
No one answered.
‘Well anyway, for years we had an issue there with a group of bikers. These guys were somethin’ else. Not Hell’s Angels. Nah, they were worse ’n that. They only ever came out at night. In the mornings we’d find villagers lying dead in the streets, well, that is, we’d find what was left of ’em. These bikers did unspeakable things to the people of our community. Cannibalistic shit. Like stuff you’ve never seen. For as long as I can remember we all lived in fear. Sometimes they’d leave us alone for a few months, then all of a sudden they’d come back. They’d break into houses and drag people’s kids from their beds. We were powerless to defend ourselves and anyone who stood up to them was ritualistically tortured and killed. Some were eve
n eaten alive in the streets.’
Sanchez coughed. ‘You know there’s a wedding going on here, right?’
‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that,’ said the man, raising his hands apologetically. He looked over at Kacy. ‘Nice dress,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ said Kacy, beaming. ‘Got it specially made for me by Franck Summers.’
‘That’s nice,’ said the man. He looked at Dante and added. ‘Is she drunk?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, anyway,’ the man raised his voice. ‘About a month ago this guy comes into town. Real nasty looking dude, not the kinda guy you’d wanna fuck with. And, well, he changed everything.’
Beth had been standing behind Flake throughout the man’s tale. She stepped forward. ‘What did he look like?’
‘Hard to say. Never really showed his face much. Kept it hidden underneath a dark hood most of the time. Had a real gravelly voice though.’
‘What was his name?’
The man shrugged. ‘Never told us his name. We only knew him as the man who drank bourbon. At least that’s how we knew him before he went out into the street and faced down all the bikers on his own. No one in the village will ever forget that. What he did, it makes me shudder to think about it. We thought the bikers were bloodthirsty and merciless. This guy was worse than all of them put together. These days we know him better as the guy who saved our village. Lakeland’s a nice place to live again now. Hell, people can even go out at night.’ He picked up his glass of rum and took another sip before adding, ‘Although they don’t.’
Beth sneaked forward and nudged Sanchez to one side so she could speak to the stranger. ‘I’m Beth Lansbury,’ she blurted.
The man smiled at her. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Beth,’ he said.
‘The man you speak of, his name is JD. Do you know where he is now?’
The stranger took another sip of his rum and set the glass back down on the bar. ‘Can I get another drink?’ he asked Sanchez.
‘Rum again?’
‘Uh huh. Make it a double this time.’
Sanchez grabbed the bottle of rum from the back of the bar and hurriedly poured the man’s drink so he could hear the rest of the conversation. The man accepted the drink and made no attempt to pay for it. He turned back to Beth.
‘He said he’d made a deal with the Devil. It didn’t make a lot of sense but he said he had to travel around the world, ridding places like Lakeland of the undead. Guess he’ll do a good job of it.’
‘Did he say if he was coming back here any time soon?’ Beth asked, her voice revealing a hint of desperation.
‘Not any time soon. He said he won’t stop until every last undead muthafucker is in Hell where they belong. I guess he’s got a lifetime’s work ahead of him.’
Beth looked disappointed. ‘And he asked you to come here and tell me this?’
The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small piece of cloth. ‘Nah, he just said to give you this. Said you’d know what it meant.’
Beth snatched the cloth away from him and unfolded it. Her fingers were trembling. Sanchez peered over her shoulder to get a good look at it. It was just a brown cloth with a red heart sewn into the middle. Within the heart, sewn in blue letters, were the initials JD. Beth turned around, clutching it tightly against her chest. There were tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
Sanchez understood how she was feeling and offered some comforting words. ‘As messages go,’ he said, ‘it’s a bit vague, isn’t it?’
THE END (maybe…)
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