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by Mike Bockoven


  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Good. Tell him.”

  “What about us,” Dave said. “What about you and me?”

  “We’ll come back to Cherry,” Josie said. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Dave left the room and in a flash, Josie followed, spun him around, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. Her mouth opened to Dave’s surprise and their tongues touched, then came into full contact as the kisses got deeper. They made love in the guest room of Willie’s house, the future uncertain but for a few moments feeling like they were home with each other.

  •••

  A long time ago, Dave loved his job. Before last week, he sort of tolerated it, a victim of routine. After Willie’s death going to work seemed like a completely necessary and wholly honorable waste of his time. The kids annoyed him more, the paperwork drove him nuts and he couldn’t keep some of the images from the siege – the dead bodies, the gore in his living room, the smell of gun powder and radiator fluid and blood from flooding his nostrils.

  It was those memories that led Dave to keep his phone in his pocket instead of his desk, just in case something went wrong and he needed to leave. He didn’t have to wait long. During third period on his third day back, the phone rang and the number had one or two too many numbers in it. He was in the middle of class so it went to voicemail, but the same number called again and again and again until he finally excused himself and stepped into the hall.

  “Conall?” he said, taking a very educated guess.

  “So I was in my ceremonial robes, I hate the ceremonial attire. It’s green and uncomfortable and itches like hell. So I’m talking to the Council, right, in the main hall and all these arsholes are staring at me …”

  “I’m kind of busy right now.”

  “Teaching? You’re blowing me off for your job? Fuck you, man.”

  “Just …” Dave floundered around, trying to not make things worse. “Move it along, man.”

  “Right,” Conall said. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your boss. You might rip his throat out and have a good gargle with his O negative.”

  “Conall …”

  “Right, so I’m in these hideous green felt robe that’s got some sort of significance and the council calls me forward and you know what I do?”

  “Does it involve the ‘F’ word?” Dave asked.

  “Strangely, yes, but not the one you think. I fart really loud, just lay it all out there. Kaboom, you know. Everyone starts making a stink, as it were, and even those thick green robes can’t hide the smell.

  Dave pictured a huge, Catholic style cathedral complete with the smell of smoke and oil and thick tapestries hanging from the balcony of the hall. The juxtaposition of the setting and the action made a smile tug at the edges of his mouth.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “The call of nature, as it were.”

  “What’d they say?” Dave asked.

  “The leader was all ‘for God’s sake, boy, show some decorum.”

  They both chuckled, Conall’s laugh still full of brogue. Dave was happy for the break and to hear from his friend.

  “They’ve got the wrong guy if decorum is what they’re looking for,” Dave said.

  “Fuckin’ a. You know why I was there? Talking to the Council?”

  “I’m guessing it was about us.”

  “Two for two, sort of,” Conall said. “I was there talking to them about your wife.”

  For a moment, Dave flashed back to the previous night where Josie had been all over him, her hands constantly moving and grasping as if he was about to disappear.

  “What about her?”

  “Well, you know that little trick she can do? The one where she grows hair all over her body and totally kicks my ass? That one?”

  “Yeah,” Dave said. “She’s pretty special.”

  “I’m not sure you realize just how special,” Conall said. “I’m pretty plugged in over her and I’ve only heard whispers of women that can do what your Josie can do and I had never seen it with my own eyes until she kicked my ass and busted my leg.”

  Putting two and two together, Dave’s heart started to race.

  “So you went to talk to The Council?”

  “I went to talk to The Council.”

  “And what did they say?”

  “Dave, my friend,” Conall said. “I’d like to tell you about the legend of the Alpha Prime.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, thank you to Talos Press, particularly my wonderful editor Alexandra Hess who has to be sick of me saying “more blood on the cover” by now and yet, continues to work with me. It’s a genuine pleasure and I hope we can do it again. I also want to thank my agent Steve Schwartz of Sarah Jane Freymann Literary for the consistent guidance, good council and saving myself from my own worst instincts on several fronts in several instances.

  I also want to sincerely thank everyone who got as excited as I did about this book including Chad Plambeck, Steph Romanski, Katie Robinson, George Ayoub and crew and so many others who have made this project a delight. Finally, Sarah, Emaline and Tessa, the loves of my life, may none of this reflect poorly on you.

 

 

 


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