The Big Bad II

by John G. Hartness

  “Elegant!” he said, laughing for real for the first time in weeks.

  She held both fists up towards him and popped her middle fingers high as he cackled and she grunted.

  And this is what it all comes down to, he thought. A couple badass motherfuckers, angels of pain, avatars of the darkest gods, wiping our asses with sand in the desert. Lucky that we don’t have dementia and hemorrhoids. Just give it a few decades, I guess.

  A whisper from the back of the car, “Jason?”

  He jerked around, looked down at his brother’s face. Mark was still sallow, but his eyes were open. Rheumy, swimming, but there.

  “Where are we, bro?”he whispered.

  “Hey, easy,” Jason said, reaching out and stroking his brother’s forehead, pushing the hair out of the way. “Just taking a ride.”

  Mark grinned.

  “Bad liar, whatever happens. Not the total monster.”

  Jason winced and tried to smile, but Mark was already gone again, so he let it fade.

  Crunch of gravel.

  “What is it?”

  “Mumbling in his sleep,” Jason said.

  That was just for me, he thought. Just for me.

  She looked at him narrowly, but only nodded. He drove on through the morning.

  ***

  Mark awoke from his stupor around noon, groggy and glassy-eyed, and asking for a hamburger. Jason looked at Sandra, and they shrugged. He pulled off at the next burger joint they saw, the Prairie Star Burger Barn, in a town called Wyattsville. They went in and ordered, one standing on either side of Mark in case he fell. Sandra was plucking paper napkins from the dispenser at their table when the harrier showed up.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Jason said under his breath, looking up as the bells hanging from the doorknob jingled.

  The cold was already rolling off Sandra, and he could feel ripples of power eddying around each other unseen in the air. Mark just kept chewing.

  “Man, this tastes so good,” he said, as if he’d never eaten one before, as if he hadn’t once spent a summer surfing and touring burger joints on the Pacific Coast Highway.

  The sun poured in the windows in a flood, bleaching the room into flat, almost white silence. The harrier wore a ratty denim jacket and mud-brown boots that looked fresh out of Death Valley. Her hair was pale as the sunlight, and he could see the fire behind her mirrored sunglasses, even if the cattle in the room couldn’t. It was as good a mask as any he’d seen, but he could practically hear the sweep of wings.

  Walking tall, like she’s Justice come to town. They’re always so damn righteous.

  A spurt of mean joy, as he remembered the time they caught one unawares, in a hostel on the outskirts of Berlin. Time had stopped while they’d worked on him, slow joy as they made him sing to their gods’ tune.

  She walked up like an old friend, stood hipshot, and smiled at them.

  “Howdy. Going to have to call the health inspector, I guess, get rid of some vermin.”

  “How dare you,” Jason said. “My brother—”

  “Huh?” Mark said, looking up from his burger. “Whoa.”

  He craned his neck to take her all in, and Jason’s heart sank when he felt how his brother seemed to lean toward her.

  Not you, please. I don’t want to lose you to them.

  Inside, a small war. He knew where he was bound after death. Shadowed darkness, eternal servitude in order to redeem the burned. No rest, only greater labors. Mark could...

  Be free. Of all this. But dammit, they shouldn’t have him.

  “You know how this ends,” the harrier said quietly, looking back and forth from Sandra to Jason.

  Sandra said “You mean ‘Diner Holocaust Kills Twenty-Nine?’ Like that?”

  Jason felt his lips quirk, and his spirits rallied, even as the darkness gathered in his heart.

  “Get gone,” he said softly, inhaling the grease and perfume and sweat from the diner, prepared to breathe fire.

  A hot, leathery hand over his. Mark had looked old, but now he looked tired.

  “Peace,” his little brother said, his face a misery. “I just want a damn hamburger. Please?”

  The flat, white light glowed unabated. The harrier now looked insubstantial, and he could almost imagine white robes wafting around her. He said nothing, but he looked steadily into her eyes.

  “Fine,” she said lightly. “Be seeing you.”

  Her heels clicked on the tiles, the bells jingled again, and they were alone again. One tear trickling in and out of the crevices that had grown around Sandra’s eyes while he wasn’t looking. He thought about last stands, trying to beat the unbeatable. The ketchup tasted salty and sweet as they talked over old times.

  ***

  Massed darkness filled the motel room everywhere the hounds’ soft glow didn’t reach, and Mark’s breath burbled from behind them on the bed. Starlight through the shattered door, but no one came running. It was about the worst possible defensive position, and undoubtedly more enemies were lurking out back behind the bathroom window.

  Should have stayed home, he thought, skin prickling.

  The second of the visible hounds leaned in and smiled. Here, away from the flock, his teeth gleamed like daggers, and Jason thought his halo looked like nothing so much as the rings of Saturn—flickering shards of energy connecting him to fields beyond Earth.

  “Yes,” Jason snapped, “and we follow gods who redeem the despised. Yours only burns, hound. You’ve already threatened torture. You’re no better.”

  Shadows danced in the corners as white flames rose and fell in the hound’s eyes. Jason held his breath, caught between rage and fear, held fast by the grief soon to come. He didn’t take his eyes off the hound, but Sandra was a colder shadow at his side, and he could imagine her fists clenched like boulders.

  Mark’s breath grew more labored, and they all heard the soft gasp as he rolled over.

  “He’s innocent. No matter that you’re his kin, his soul belongs to us.”

  “You don’t have anything more to do with souls than we do,” Sandra spat. “That’s the guy who pulls your leash, or have you forgotten?”

  The hound at the rear snarled, and Jason looked at her. Even now, she still wore the sunglasses, and that surprised a smile from him.

  “We’ll always fight,” Jason said abruptly. “Sandra and me, we chose this, but Mark didn’t. Give him peace for now, and we can meet later, shed all the blood you want. That’s what the big guys like, isn’t it? Thunder in the desert. We’ll make a legend of it.”

  Something eased palpably in the room.

  “Your kind know nothing of true love,” the hound said. “But we can accept grief. Once your brother passes, he’s ours, bound for a Glory you’ll never know. Certainly not when we put His justice to you.”

  “Thank you,” Jason said quietly. “I’ll remember this grace when your time comes.”

  He breathed in and out, and flames enveloped him. The Dark Fathers had been generous with their gifts, and he smiled. The one in front smiled hungrily in return, almost thrumming with desire.

  Silence as the hounds backed out of the room.

  They kept watch by starlight, the three of them together until at last there were only two.

  A Family Affair

  Selah Janel

  The street behind Max’s Diner reeked of old food and nighttime dankness. The only light came from the flickering bulb over the back door, the Dumpsters looked like they hadn’t been tended to for a week, and there was no telling what was rustling in an old pile of boxes nearby. If the waiting housewives had possessed any amount of sense, they would have fled for home. Neither should have been there shivering in a questionable part of town, standing in a gooey puddle, quite possibly ruining new pumps in the process. Sarah kept looking over her shoulder, reaffirming what Amanda al
ready knew. They had no sane business there, but there they were. There she was. She had to be. She was waiting.

  Nose-curling smoke belched out of a vent. Amanda made a face and carefully smoothed her dress and her brunette coiffure to give her hands something to do. Beside her, Sarah Sanders paced and tried not to come in contact with anything. “They should be here by now. We both received a phone call. That means there’s a meeting. I brought the pamphlets,” Sarah rambled, shaking her oversized handbag for emphasis. “This is where we were told to meet, right?”

  “Yes,” Amanda murmured. “Maybe they couldn’t make it.”

  “Then we should go!” Sarah’s round face showed her distress and her blonde hair wobbled in the loose bun gathered at the back of her head. “How are we supposed to make a stand on our own?”

  Amanda’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t voice her unease. She wouldn’t show weakness, not to another new member, not to anyone in the group. The whole point is that many individuals can do more than one group saying the same thing over and over. She scowled at the woman, who was friendly and concerned enough, but so tiring. So many people in the small town of Crossroads, Missouri were so very tiring.

  She started to reassure Sarah that they were right where they needed to be when a flash of movement at the alley’s entrance caught her eye.

  “Can I help you gentlemen?” Amanda was surprised that her voice was as calm and unaffected as it was. Looks like all those arguments with Robert have done me some good. Come to think of it, the hoods looked about Robert’s age. Two wore black Levis with thick cuffs at the bottom, and the other still sported his baggy mechanic’s trousers. As they came closer, it was obvious from what was visible of their fitted T-shirts that they were all muscle under their jackets. All three towered over both women, and all looked pleased by the predicament.

  The largest leaned over until he was nose to nose with Amanda. She grimaced at the stench of the pomade he’d used to slick his hair back Folsom-style. “Dunno, can you? Strange place for two circled dollies to be after dark.” He glanced to his two friends and they shared a smug, secret smile.

  Amanda swallowed and forced herself to look the thug in his glazed eyes, to tolerate the heavy scent of alcohol on his breath. Their stupid smiles, their terrible manners and fashion, their awful music. I cannot believe this is what Crossroads is turning into. Disgusting. “We’ve just as much right to be here as anyone else.”

  “Amanda, what are you doing?” Sarah hissed, shaking her elbow hard. “Are you crazy? It’s obvious they’re not going to show up!”

  “Well, well, the things you married chicks get up to just fractures me. Looks like these little ladies have a secret, now, don’t it, boys?” the lead hood snickered. His backup goons chortled and busied themselves lighting cigarettes. A wallet chain slapped against the jeans of one, and the grease monkey adjusted the dirty flat cap that was smushed onto the back of his head.

  “Yeah, an’ we like secrets, Freddie,” the mechanic laughed.

  “We got a few of our own, too,” his pal added. “We know all about good secrets. We’ve got all sorts of stuff hidden in the garage from all the fat cats Bobby does fix-it work for.”

  “Zip it, goof! We don’t need the heat on us,” Bobby, the mechanic, snarled.

  His friend rolled his eyes and sauntered closer to Sarah. Up close, his scarred face was clearly visible, a regular Harlem sunset. “Chill out. They won’t be talking much in a few minutes, so it don’t matter if they’re in the orbit, though it’s a shame Raver will miss out.”

  Bobby made a face and took a drag from his cigarette. “His fault for gettin’ caught sneakin’ out last week. If he doesn’t know his groceries to do that right, then what good is he to us? ’Sides, he can get his own tail.”

  Bile rose in Amanda’s throat and she lurched forward. Freddie nudged into her space, edging her back into the alley, away from the diner’s kitchen door. “Fire, huh? Cool. I like an Ivy Leaguer with fire. You meetin’ someone to boil your cabbage besides yer old man, is that it?” he sneered.

  “Don’t be disgusting, you goon!” Sarah spat. For a moment Amanda thought her friend would grow a spine and come to her defense, but she yelped and backed away as soon as the other two greasers crammed near her.

  “You haven’t even seen disgusting yet, sweetheart,” Freddie laughed.

  “Maybe they know this is where we hang out when we’re not cruisin’,” the one with the cap pointed out around his cigarette. Under the flickering light, his pockmarked face did nothing to add to his appeal. “Maybe they’re looking for some fun without the squares and spazzes they’re hitched to.”

  “That it? You lookin’ to make out with someone who knows how?” Freddie grinned, and before Amanda could back up any further his thick hand was around her wrist, yanking her close. Up against him, the stench of tobacco smoke, alcohol, grease, and hair product was mind-numbing. “Or you wanting more than that?”

  If her privates could close up, they would have at the thug’s suggestion. “Don’t be crass. There’s only one man that can do that for me,” she sneered before thinking the comment through.

  “Yeah? Don’t be so uptight. It’s not good for the circulation,” Freddie teased. “Be like your friend, there. She knows her place.” Cold fear worked up Amanda’s spine as she looked over the greaser’s shoulder to see Sarah dragged further into the alley. Tears streaked powder on her cheeks as she struggled against the thick arms. Frustration, disgust, and blind fury made Amanda’s mind blank, made her skin crawl with a sudden heat. “Oh, I know my place. I know it’s far above you low-life delinquents. You’re everything that’s wrong with the world today.”

  For a moment, the noises of the alley stilled and there was total, shocked silence. Freddie’s jaw tightened, and the fire in his eyes was proof that she’d gone too far. “See, if your old man did you well, you wouldn’t shoot your mouth like that. Guess I’m gonna have to school ya,” he snarled. Before Amanda could breathe, the switchblade was open on her throat.

  “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, baby,” he breathed as he slammed her up against the diner wall.

  Keep focused and you’ll get through this, her mind urged. You’ll survive this. It was hard to believe it when the brickwork scraped her back and a hand pressed hard on her throat.

  “As fun as you’d be, I’ll enjoy spilling your blood all up and down this alley to keep people off our turf.”

  Despite her heart pounding in her ears, a slow smile curled Amanda’s lips. When she spoke, her voice was effortless and clear. “I feel the same way.”

  Her slim hand curled around his wrist and popped his arm back and around. The twisting gesture easily snapped the bone and sank the blade into his throat, which not only got the weapon out of her way but kept him quiet when she slashed her hand down his front. Freddie watched, bug-eyed, as his abdomen and torso split open, revealing the glistening, sticky abundance of intestines underneath. A strangled whine squeezed out of his throat as he sank to his knees. Smiling, Amanda stepped around the mess, clicking her tongue. Behind her, the screams had taken a decidedly masculine turn, but she wasn’t going to bother with the others yet. This was the fun part, the part she’d been waiting for ever since the phone call.

  She stepped firmly onto the mass of steaming pink insides. The world in front of her glowed red, and her face burned from the change. The greaser clawed at his throat as his eyes lost their light. “Do you want to play with me now? Or have you guessed my little secret?” Her voice was rough from the change and the excitement of the hunt.

  Freddie couldn’t answer. He was already dead.

  “Behind you!” Sarah snarled. Amanda turned to see the grease monkey charging at her with a tire iron. The prissy blonde had his friend’s throat open and was greedily feasting on his blood.

  Amanda dodged the flailing piece of metal. “Just like a man...you think y
ou rule the world because you’re bigger, but you have no idea what to do with your weapon.”

  “Up yours, bitch!” The length of metal came down at her head. She swept to his side and smacked the tire iron’s path sideways, leaving his ribs unprotected from a well-delivered rake of her claws. He howled and the iron clattered onto the pavement as he gripped his side, leaving his throat completely exposed. Her nails dug into his tender flesh when she wrapped her hand around his neck and slowly squeezed.

  “Do you think you can keep up with us now?” she purred. “Do you think you know how to treat a lady?” Her voice was raw from exertion and hunger, brutal from frustration.

  “P-please,” he gasped, and she felt a surge of power as the tears grew in Bobby’s eyes.

  “I should tell you how worthless your stupid games are. How you’re bringing this entire country down by not contributing a damn thing,” she snarled, and pressed her face right into his.

  “S-stop, don’t touch me!” Horror and pain looked so delicious on a young man’s face, especially when his throat was gushing blood.

  “Amanda!” Sarah hissed. “Someone will hear!”

  The housewife sighed and pressed her mouth to the thug’s hard, teeth sinking viciously into his tongue and lower lip. A victim’s struggles only made the blood taste sweeter, a fact she had quickly discovered though she was still new to the vampire lifestyle. She drank his screams with the coppery fluid. It was only when he weakened and his thrashing lessened that she took pity and opened his jugular.

  Of course, the head of the school board chose that moment to discreetly exit the diner’s kitchen into the alley. He’d obviously finished his tryst with Maxine “Max” Fulton, and was so convinced he wouldn’t get caught that he was tucking himself in his pants as he stumbled out the door.