by Ryan Hill
Mr. Lovell held out his hands. “Trenton may want a female sacrifice. It all depends, really.”
“On what?” the poofy haired woman asked.
This, quite possibly, is my favorite part.
“Whether or not the sacrifice is a virgin.”
Bailey had never been in a bar before. He’d always imagined what they were like, the mix of alcohol, pool, and women swirling into a blend of the best life had to offer. Though to be fair, his only frame of reference came from bars in movies. So long as it wasn’t the Double Deuce or that redneck bar in 48 Hrs., he figured things would be fine. Maybe if Patrick Swayze were still alive those others would be okay, but it would be better if the bar was more of the Coyote Ugly variety.
The Thirsty Alligator’s neon sign buzzed, which only added to the experience for Bailey. Made it more real. He was actually about to step foot in a bar! Tim and Marshall stood on either side of him, gazing up at the holy neon sign.
“It’s—” Bailey said.
“Magical,” Tim finished. “I bet there’s boobs in there. Free boobs.”
Bailey laughed. “Drunk boobs.”
“It’s not a strip joint, you goons,” Marshall said. “It’s a bar. All they do is drink alcohol. The boob stuff they probably do out back or something.”
“Um, hello?” Alexis scoffed.
“People drink in strip joints,” Tim said. “And there’s boobs under women’s shirts. Guys hit on those women. Hell, that’s how you knew to come here.”
“True.” Marshall smiled, ceding the point.
“I bet they let the women take their tops off,” Tim said. “The hot ones, at least.”
“Doubtful, but it’d be nice,” Marshall said.
Alexis made a disgusted sound as she walked past the three of them. “You boys coming in? Or are you going to stare at the alligator until you go cross-eyed?”
“Too late.” Marshall crossed his eyes.
“Children.” Alexis sighed. “I’m surrounded by children.”
That gave Bailey an idea. What would a man do? Ah ha! He grabbed the door and held it open for her. Yes, sir. That’s what a man would do.
She thanked him and walked in past the handwritten sign taped to the door saying the bar was closed for a private function.
Bailey followed her in and took a look around. Empty, except for Julie and Franklin. It wasn’t quite what Bailey had imagined, but being underage and in a bar made it all the more thrilling. He did feel a little disappointed the place wasn’t larger. Bars seemed much bigger in his imagination.
Julie stood behind the bar. Franklin sat directly across from her, drinking a beer. A sawed-off shotgun lay between them, next to a couple of empty bottles.
“Oh, fantastic.” Franklin groaned at the sight of Bailey and his friends. “Look who’s here.”
“Whoa,” Tim said, taking in the scene.
“Pretty sure it’s against the law for you kids to be in here,” Julie said.
Marshall strolled up to the bar. “Vodka and Red Bull on the rocks. Light on the bull, heavy on the vodka.”
“Nobody says on the rocks anymore,” Julie said. “You got ID?”
“Absolutely.” Marshall pulled out his wallet and waved his driver’s license in the air. “See?”
“We don’t have time for this.” Franklin finished his beer. “The Awakening has started. You kids need to go do your homework. Play video games. Abide by the mandatory evacuation. Anything but be here.”
“We both know that evacuation order is fake.” Bailey sat in the seat next to him. “Otherwise, you’d have left town.”
“You’re smarter than you look. Doesn’t change anything.”
Bailey slammed his fist on the counter. “Yes it does.”
Franklin raised his eyebrows and nodded, impressed at Bailey’s display of anger. “Something happened to you. What?”
“Mr. Lovell zombified my parents.” Bailey went on to tell Franklin everything that happened at home earlier.
He listened to Bailey; Franklin’s face becoming sterner and sterner as the story went on.
“I’m so sorry.” Julie rested her elbows on the bar, pushing up her cleavage.
Bailey’s gaze darted to Tim, whose eyes looked like they were ready to jump out of his head. Bailey forced himself not to laugh. “Will they be okay? Can we turn them back to normal?”
“Probably,” Franklin said. “But right now, your parents are the least of my concerns.”
Bailey’s face flushed with anger. “Well, they’re a big concern to me. I’m not going to let that overcoat-wearing Freddy Krueger thing hurt them.”
“Seriously,” Marshall said. “What if they start eating brains? Like mine?”
“Oh, like you’re using it anyway,” Alexis quipped.
“Seriously. It’s just going to waste right now,” Bailey said, piling it on.
“They’re not wrong,” Tim said.
Franklin held up his hands. “Enough. I get it.”
Bailey’s ears perked up at the hiss of another beer bottle being opened. Tim somehow snuck behind the bar and popped open a cold one.
“Don’t drink that.” Julie snatched the drink out of his hand. She wiped off the bottle with a towel and took a sip. “I’ll lose my liquor license if anyone sees you doing that. How did you even sneak past me?”
“With my sneaky ninja technique,” Tim said, striking a ninja pose. “Self-taught.”
Julie swallowed some beer. “That so?”
Alexis shook her head. “Here we go.”
“I dressed up as a ninja for Halloween one year. Jumped out of the bushes, scaring people.” Tim grinned, nodding toward Alexis. “You remember. Half of them dropped their candy. We got so fat that year.”
Alexis’s expression didn’t change. “I really hate you sometimes.”
“After that, I went on to hone my skills through the use of literature and YouTube. Now, I can snag pretty much anything I want.” Tim took a sip from a new bottle of beer. Julie yanked it away, some beer spilling out of his mouth and onto his shirt.
“Quit it,” Julie said.
“He likes to think he’s got talent,” Alexis said. “That’s for sure.”
Julie chugged the rest of the first beer and then tossed it in the trash before starting on the second one she took from Tim. “Can we move on? We need something to defend ourselves with.”
“Pretty much all we’ve got is harsh language,” Bailey said. “And I doubt that’ll do much good against whatever Mr. Lovell has in store for us.”
“You should’ve seen what one of his friends did to my shotgun earlier,” Julie said.
Franklin glanced at his watch, prompting Bailey to look at the Bud Light clock behind the bar. 8:07. Franklin pulled out his cell phone and held it to his ear. “Remy? Yeah, it’s me. Open up shop. We need some emergency provisions.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Business Hours
It was a little after nine when Deckland returned to the Thirsty Alligator with Percy and Mr. Lovell in tow. The only car in the parking lot was a beaten-down Mustang that wasn’t going anywhere, unless it was towed. Deckland admired his handiwork, pointing it out to the others and grinning like a proud father.
“That’s my doing. Smashed Franklin’s ride to bits with my bare hands.”
“Impressive,” Mr. Lovell said, though he and Trenton both felt nostalgic for the once-pristine ride.
Waste of a classic if you ask me. I’d have been more impressed if he’d just stolen it.
Deckland opened the hatchback of his Honda CUV and pulled out a battle-axe that was a couple hundred years old. Mr. Lovell had personally witnessed the ginger lopping off twelve heads in one fight with the weapon.
Percy snorted. “Why didn’t you drive that Soccer Mom car of yours and just steal the Mustang?”
“Only someone with a wee pecker like yourself could fit in something that tight.” Deckland held the axe up to Percy’s throat, making him shrink back. �
��And because I wanted to destroy what was most important to Franklin.”
“Okay, I get it. Sorry,” Percy said.
“If I’d brought Little Debbie with me earlier—” Deckland spun the axe “—Franklin’s carcass would be right next to that stag of a car, but I thought it’d be more fun using my bare hands.”
“You never could keep your ego in check,” Mr. Lovell said, remembering that ego was how Deckland fell into their employ.
After losing his entire family in the Gibbet Rath Massacre during the Irish Rebellion of 1798, the ginger went on a rampage, doing everything imaginable–and unimaginable–to every British soldier he could get his hands on. The Red Coats finally caught him, after he tried to take on an entire regiment by himself, thinking they’d go down like a sack of potatoes. Mr. Lovell and Trenton saw potential in the angry ginger, offered him a position, and the Irishman had been wreaking havoc ever since. He raised the axe, ready to tear down the Thirsty Alligator’s entrance.
“Allow me. You want to keep Little Debbie fresh for the fight to come.” Mr. Lovell spun around, becoming a blur. With a crack, he disappeared and then reappeared inside the bar, which was closed. Only the neon beer sign lights remained on, giving the place a purplish haze.
Outside, Deckland swung his axe at the Mustang’s trunk. It tore through the car like scissors through paper. The axe was dug in so deep he couldn’t get it out.
Mr. Lovell opened the front door, trying to hide his displeasure. “Nobody’s home.”
“This is where I last saw him.” Deckland gave the axe a break. “There are only so many places he could go without his wheels. I’d bet a pint of whiskey he’s been shacking up with the lass who owns the place.”
“You’re on,” Percy said.
“Never mind about the car. Franklin must know we’ve completed Phase Two of the Awakening. He’s a punctual man. He’ll find a way to get to the final ceremony.” Mr. Lovell held out his hand to Percy. “Give me your lighter.”
He handed it over. Mr. Lovell noticed it featured the silhouette of a naked woman and let out a disapproving grunt.
“Got it for free,” Percy said, clearly lying.
“Wait here.” Mr. Lovell ignored the excuse and then went back into the Thirsty Alligator. He took a bottle of vodka from behind the bar, spun off the cap, and poured the liquid all over the bar, giving off a thick smell of alcohol. Turning to get another bottle, Mr. Lovell jumped at the sight of a large mirror.
Do something!
Mr. Lovell threw the empty bottle at the mirror, shattering it. With the mirror out of the way, he poured out a couple more bottles of liquor, enough to make sure the place would explode like wildfire. He sparked Percy’s lighter and tossed it on the floor. The flame touched the alcohol and burst to life, spreading out in both directions and burning through the wood with ease as it spread to other parts of the bar. Mr. Lovell used to hate fire, but after the incident with Trenton all those years ago, it didn’t frighten Mr. Lovell. There was nothing left of his body for the fire to take. The heat felt comforting against his scarred face. After the flames reached the walls, Mr. Lovell grabbed a bottle of Wild Turkey and rejoined the two men outside, holding the bottle out for Percy.
“For the lighter.”
Percy peeked through the Thirsty Alligator’s window, absorbing the inferno through his eyes. He was so caught up in the flames he didn’t notice the Wild Turkey until Mr. Lovell bumped it against his arm.
“Percy.”
“What? Oh, thanks.” Percy came out of his daze, unscrewed the cap and then took a swig of the liquor.
Bottles of liquor exploded, their contents making the flames even larger. The heat made all three of them take a few steps back. Trenton might have been the most excited of the group. Mr. Lovell’s stomach tickled to an almost unbearable degree. He rubbed his belly, hoping it would calm Trenton.
“Hope that chick’s got insurance,” Percy said, handing the Wild Turkey to Deckland.
Trenton’s excitement become too much to handle. The tickling felt like acid tearing away at Mr. Lovell’s insides, making him violently cough to the point of doubling over. It wasn’t only the fire that stoked Trenton’s enthusiasm. Phase Two ensured he would only grow in power, and keeping him safe would only become more hazardous. Percy tried to help his boss but was waved off.
“I’m fine,” Mr. Lovell coughed. Something warm moved up his throat. Blood. Both he and Trenton felt a shock of fear.
I’m sorry, my friend. I let myself become consumed by the fire. I’ll be more careful until we complete Phase Three. Right now, we need to visit an old business associate. Franklin may have the Blade of Hugues de Payens, but he’s not alone. He’ll want to stock up, if you will.
Trenton settled down, and the pain inside Mr. Lovell eased up. “You two leave before someone shows up.”
“Not coming with us?” Deckland asked.
“No. I need to take of other things. Continue with everything while I’m away.”
Percy swallowed some Wild Turkey. “Where you off to? I thought we were good to go?”
Mr. Lovell didn’t respond. He spun in place until there was that unmistakable crack and then disappeared.
The kids would not shut up. They bounced from one conversation to the other and then sometimes came back around to a previous conversation. Each of them spoke over the other about different things. It was like listening to a bunch of cokeheads rambling all at once.
Julie drove so fast the RPM odometer redlined. Could it be Franklin wasn’t the only one the kids were driving insane? He’d never really been around teens that much, and when he had, life was so brutal they seemed more like forty than fourteen, but that was a long time ago. Things had changed. Franklin was convinced these teens were the most ADD-riddled group of people in all of recorded history. Their scattered conversations made Franklin’s head hurt. The four of them were so tightly packed into the back seat of Julie’s Camaro that the smaller one, Tim, held his legs as he lay across the other three. Franklin wondered if the close quarters made all the hot air inside them escape through their mouths.
“I hope I get a rocket launcher,” Marshall said from one of the coveted window seats. “So I can blow them back to hell.”
Franklin also deeply regretted the fact that he’d told them they were going to Raleigh to load up on weapons, which ramped the teens’ excitement to eleven. With the exception of the girl, who seemed to have at least a decent head on her shoulders, the others acted like they’d eaten a pound of candy on their way to a party that promised to be an epic combination of every major holiday.
“That’s not what you’d blow them with.” Bailey could’ve sat in the other window seat, but he let Alexis have it and sit in the middle. The gesture wasn’t lost on Franklin.
“Keep it up,” Marshall said. “See what happens.”
Bailey laughed. “Do you really think after the last couple of days that I’d be afraid of you?”
“You should always be afraid of me.”
Tim’s head lay in his sister’s lap. He glanced up at her. “You comfortable?”
“Packed in between three boys, one of whom is my brother, and I can’t move? Couldn’t be happier.”
Franklin rubbed his temples, the yapping making him entertain the idea of resurrecting Trenton. He’d lose his patience in two seconds and then melt their mouths shut, or something to that extent.
Julie glanced at Franklin out of the corner of her eye. “Not a kid person, I take it?”
“It’s all white noise to me. I don’t know how they can keep it up.”
“My mom always said don’t worry if they’re talking. Worry if they’re not.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because that’s usually when they’re up to something,” Julie clucked.
Franklin grinned. Julie’s mom had a good point. It didn’t help at the moment, but still. Food for thought.
The group made it to Raleigh in a little under ninety minutes, puttin
g them an hour ahead of schedule. Franklin gave Julie the address of the House of the Rising Sun once they reached the city limits, and ten minutes later they’d arrived. He could’ve kissed her for driving so fast.
Julie parked between two cars that were already at the Rising Sun. A black Jeep with a New Orleans Saints license plate—definitely Remy’s ride–and a brand new Mercedes SUV, complete with temporary tags, which had to have cost someone a nice mint.
“Oh, sweet merciful Lord. Look at this.” Marshall’s hand hovered an inch over the Mercedes. “Do you have any idea how much tail you could get with this?”
“Tail?” Alexis raised an eyebrow. “Referring to women as tail won’t get you any tail, even if you had a car that nice.”
Marshall stopped. “Wanna bet?”
“You have nothing to bet.”
“That you know of.” A devilish smile broke out across Marshall’s face.
Alexis stuck out her tongue. “Gross, dude.”
Franklin shook his head. He didn’t hate kids. Before meeting Bailey and his friends, Franklin even dreamed of having a few every now and then. Having met Bailey and his friends, it was all Franklin could do not to strangle each and every one of those cretins.
“You all wait outside. Remy doesn’t like kids in his store.” Franklin didn’t know if it was the case or not, but it would give him a few minutes’ reprieve from their yapping.
Julie stopped at the door and turned to Franklin, a concerned look on her face. “Anything in here I need to worry about?”
“You’ll be fine.” Franklin opened the door for her. “Just follow my lead to be safe.”
Franklin walked in behind Julie. They were greeted by the sound of Remy arguing with a couple of teenagers. Franklin rolled his eyes.
You have got to be kidding me! More high school drama? Shoot me now.
The boy wore a very nice, very expensive black suit and had strawberry-blond hair that looked like it’d been styled with a gallon of product so every strand stayed perfectly in place. His girlfriend had short, curly blonde hair that went in whichever direction it felt like. Franklin wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t bother him as much as the guy.