“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe after forty or fifty years you might come to enjoy all the crazy singing and dancing, you know, if you went completely insane. I suppose you could be lobotomized first; that might help.”
“Look, I know I’m really tempting Fate by saying this again, but we are getting out of here before this place gets any weirder. Now get Mac up, go back to the bed and breakfast, round everything up, get it in the car and get back here ASAP. Don’t stop for anything. I don’t care if Jesus Christ or the Almighty NPH himself tries to pull you up onto a makeshift stage to perform some kind of legendary two-man show—you do not stop.”
“And what are you going to do? Stay here and try to organize your own barbershop quartet?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do, because those are still cool. No, I’m going to order us some food for the road and if you’re not careful, Captain Sarcasm, yours will have an extra helping of spit in it.”
“All right, all right, simmer down; I’ll be right back. Now before I go, just promise me, hand over your heart now, that you won’t go promenading without me,” Kurt said. John just glared at Kurt. Kurt threw his hands in the air in surrender. He got up and moved over to where Mac was dozing, blissfully unaware of the goings on around him, on the bar. He shook Mac awake, slid an arm around him for support, hoisted him up and headed for the door. The waitress began to head toward them and Kurt called out to her, “Miss, I do believe he’s ready to see a menu, but be forewarned; he’s more than a little cranky today. It seems all the singing and dancing angers up his blood something fierce.”
The waitress came up to Kurt, smiled and asked, “Oh, did you not care for the song then, honey?”
“Oh heaven’s no. Why, in fact, I think it was perfectly wonderful. Whatever gave you the impression that I didn’t like it?” Kurt asked in a mocking tone. Upon seeing her not buying his insincere response, he said, “Look, it’s not that I didn’t like it. It’s just that I found it to be freakier than the Fourth of July barbecue at Ed Gein’s house.” With that, he opened the door and, practically dragging Mac along, he headed back for Miss Bay’s Bed and Breakfast.
***
The waitress grinned as she watched Kurt and Mac leave, with Kurt comically dragging his still hung-over friend down the street. She strolled over to the table where John had sat down at in the meantime. She smiled broadly at him. “Well, hello there. My name is Virginia and I’ll be your waitress this morning, and I promise you no singing, or dancing either for that matter. I’d hate for your blood to get any angrier on my account. It’s bad for business anyway,” she said cheerfully, while handing him a menu.
“Well, I thank you kindly for that, miss; I do appreciate that most sincerely and most deeply. May I introduce myself and my friends? I am called John, the chatty gentleman that just left was my friend Kurt, and I do sincerely apologize for his manners; unfortunately, there is no such thing as a small heroin problem. The luggage he was carrying under his arm is named Mac, by the way.”
“Ah, well I see for someone who is supposed to be so very cranky today, your sense of humor is making an admirable comeback.”
“Thank you, I try.”
“So, are you just passing through then?”
“Well at first, but to tell you true, now I was actually thinking of building a small summer cottage in the woods just south of town, where my friends and I could make an honest living building rustic furniture out of trees we chopped down with our own bare hands and selling it under freeway overpasses, but unfortunately, I have come to the disheartening realization that I haven’t the jazz hands to stay in your charming little village.”
“Wow, you really don’t like the singing, do you?”
“Oh, it’s not that I don’t like it per se; to be more accurate, it’s more like it terrifies me in a way that I never previously believed possible. It’s kind of like I just saw a giant spider with a nuclear bomb and herpes.”
“Well, that is quite terrifying to be sure. Unfortunately this building is infested with those, but fortunately for you, the mammoth telekinetic rats with ray guns and syphilis have been keeping them away from the customers.”
“Oh well, that is indeed a comforting thought, thank you. To be perfectly honest with you, I think both of those things would be a better tourist attraction than the whole rustic, show tune, happy vibe you have going on here.”
“Oh, come on; its not really so bad, is it?”
“Well, I can think of worse things, not many mind you, and most of those involve Nazis of some kind. Oh, and there were the prequels, of course.”
“Believe me, I thought it was weird at first too, but trust me; it really starts to grow on you.”
“Yeah, well so does mold and nobody grows to like that, do they? Just out of idle curiosity though, how long did it take to grow on you, exactly?”
“I don’t know, a couple hundred years or so?”
“Funny.”
“Thank you, I try,” she said giggling.
John smiled for the first time today, finally feeling a bit at ease. He quickly scanned the menu and said, “I don’t really have time to properly peruse this and there aren’t near enough pictures anyway. Could we just get three of whatever the special is, to go?”
“You aren’t leaving already, are you? You just got to town last night.”
“How did you know that? In fact, how does everyone know that? It’s the strangest thing, well definitely not the strangest thing to be sure, but to the best of my knowledge the only people in the entire town who saw us arrive last night were the bartender over there and the kooky old lady that runs the bed and breakfast. Now suddenly every single person on the street seems to know our names and exactly when we arrived in town.”
“Believe me, when someone comes to Musicarolina, everyone knows about it. That’s how everyone knew to come out and sing you the welcome song in the morning. We just want you to know that we’re truly glad you’ve come here to stay.”
“Oh, but I promise you, we have not come here to stay. We just came to find my little brother and since I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance in Hades he stuck around here, we’ll be moving along now.”
“Oh come on, at least give the town a chance. I think you’ll really like it here.”
“Thanks, but I really don’t think I plan on spending my golden years serenading tourists or dancing a jig at the annual Maple Syrup Renaissance Jamboree or whatever you have ‘round these parts.”
“Don’t be so cruel. I know it may seem odd to an outsider; that’s more than fair, but we’re just a little town. There’s just one tiny dirt road into town and we aren’t near any highways. We have to have some kind of a goofy hook to get tourists here. We depend on tourism to keep the town alive, quite literally. Oh, and for the record, we don’t have an annual Maple Syrup Renaissance Jamboree—that’d be lame. It’s Boysenberry and it’s freakin’ awesome!”
“That may be, but it doesn’t mean it’s for me.”
“Tell you what. I can get someone to cover the rest of my shift and I’ll take you around the town myself. Take my word for it; I personally guarantee that after only one day with me you’ll never want to leave this town.”
“And what makes you so all-fired sure about that?”
“Because I’m charming, adorable, and I won’t terrorize you with my mad singing and dancing skills.”
“Well, while that is a most enticing offer, I’m afraid I must respectfully decline.”
“Oh come on, please?”
“Why is it so important for you that I stay here?”
“Because everyone stays. I haven’t seen a single person in my whole life ever leave Musicarolina and when you decide to stay; I want you to stay here with me.”
“You just met me five minutes ago. Why on Earth would you say that?”
“Because I know you, and I know you’re the only person in the world for me, or really any world for that matter.”
John’s earlier fe
eling of ease was rapidly fleeing him. He was beginning to feel dreadfully nervous again. He said, “You don’t even know anything about me.”
“That’s not true, John. I know everything about you.”
“Okay fine, I’ll play along. Name one thing.”
“Oh, I can name several things. Anything that you want, in fact. I know that your full name is John Victor Curtis. Your parents died suddenly when you were still barely just a teenager. Tragically, in an almost Dickensian fashion, you didn’t have any family to take you in, so instead of going into the system, you raised yourself out on the streets doing whatever you had to do to survive. It’s awful really and obviously not your fault. It was just the hand you were dealt, but that got you tangled up in, shall we say, a plethora of less-than-reputable businesses. You only did that because you had to raise your younger brother, Jack.
I know that despite all the crimes you’ve ever committed, you still feel a deep, innate sense of remorse for them; even though you’ve convinced yourself that what’s necessary is moral. I know that you have a strict code of honor even in the worst of your criminal schemes. You only rob other criminals, you only kill as the very last resort and you only kill those that you think truly deserve killing. Lesser men might have learned to enjoy it, especially as young as you started out, or simply blame their circumstances, but you always take responsibility for all the terrible things you do. You take care of your crew and you love them like a family, though you’d never tell them that out loud. No, you think you’re too manly to tell people your innermost feelings—typical guy. You take great care and pride in making sure that no innocent bystanders are ever harmed and you give a good chunk of your share in the profits anonymously to charity. I know that you took Kurt in while he was even worse off than you, even though you couldn’t really afford it at the time. I know you raised him and cared for him as carefully and as lovingly as you did your own brother. I know that you let your friend Mac join you after he got back from the war. I know the scars he picked up over there will never truly heal and sadly he’ll never be able to drown them away in all the bottles that he’s crawled into. I know that either of you can just as easily handle his job with the explosives, but you keep him on to give him a sense of purpose. I know that despite that gruff exterior you try to show to people outside your inner circle, that you truly have a kind and good heart. Oh, and I know you like to go to the pet store and play with the puppies and kittens and feed the ducks in the park. Is that enough, or should I tell you more?”
John rose up from the table cautiously, began to back gradually away from her and replied, “How could you possibly know all of that? What is this?”
“Don’t be afraid my love. I know your innermost soul, John; all the good and all the bad, the triumphs and the bloodshed. I could read it as easily as a book the minute you came into town; we all could. The others don’t understand what it really means, what your true value here really is, but I do. Believe me, it is exceptionally rare that a soul like yours—even as weighed down with sin as yours is, that is still kind and good at its core—comes to our town, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. So please, John, stay here with me.”
John continued to back toward the door, knocking over chairs as he retreated. His mind raced, but it wasn’t doing him any good. Too many thoughts were jumbled together now. What was this? Was it a crazy hallucination, a nightmare, some kind of trick, or an elaborate prank of some kind? How had she found all of this out? He didn’t know and he couldn’t even begin to figure it out. Then, she said something which made his heart stop beating and ice run through his very veins, something that there was no way she could possibly have ever known.
“I know what was in the bank vault, John; what was so important that you had to get to and I know why you wanted the police to be there to see it. I know the real treasure you were looking for that day. The sin that you couldn’t let stand, that you had to redeem yourself for.” All he knew in this instant was that more than anything he had ever wanted in this life, he wanted to get out of this God-forsaken town as fast as humanly possible. He saw Kurt pull up outside in the car and honk the horn. Virginia looked at him once more, sorrowfully, and said “Please John, don’t go.”
John didn’t hesitate for one second. He flung the door open and ran full speed to the car. He stopped at the driver’s side and flung the door open. “Move over; I’m driving!” he commanded.
“What’s wrong?” Kurt asked.
“I can’t even begin to explain it to you; just move over NOW!” he shouted. Kurt was puzzled, but didn’t question him further; he simply slid over to the passenger side. John dove in, slammed the door shut and stomped down hard on the gas pedal. The car sped through the streets of Musicarolina while Kurt leaned back in his seat and looked over at John nervously.
“Hey, where’s breakfast?” Mac asked sleepily from the back seat.
Virginia watched through the front window of Sutter’s as John sped away in the distance. She smiled and said lightly under her breath, “Well, here we go,” with her voice momentarily cracking into a British accent.
CHAPTER 7
YEAH, IT’S DEFINITELY TIME TO GET OUTTA DODGE!
John continued to speed dangerously through the streets of Musicarolina. He had long ago thrown caution completely to the wind. He had, by now, stopped thinking of his brother, or their next move entirely. Truth be told, he wasn’t even focusing on all of the weirdness they’d experienced since they’d first arrived at the outskirts of this town. The only thought on his mind in this moment was escape. It consumed him wholly. It drove him relentlessly forward as he propelled their vehicle wildly onward, careening down the road and skidding precariously around the corners toward that singular goal—escape.
The gas pedal was literally pushed flat to the metal. People who were casually crossing the street, unaware this dangerous man on an all-consuming mission was in their midst, had to quickly dive out of the way as he pounded on the horn and flew on by, not slowing down for them even for one fraction of a millisecond. That one thought and only that one thought kept pounding over and over in his mind. Escape; get out of this town now, while you still can. The urge to get away was stronger than he’d felt even when fleeing the bank job. They finally, and mercifully without any fatalities, reached their final destination: the old stone bridge. Still not daring to decrease his speed even a little, John continued to fly over it as though the devil himself was close behind, nipping at their tail. The car shot across the bridge, rumbling over the stones, soaring off the end and then fishtailing onto the dusty road beyond.
Finally, his knuckles white from gripping onto anything he could during this headlong flight for dear life; Kurt rather nervously piped up in a wavering voice and asked, “Um, hey...John...buddy...old pal, as much as I’m glad I can be here for you in this, your most trying hour; the moment of your apparent complete and total mental break down—which, in fairness, we all knew was coming; no denying that—could you maybe, just possibly, try to keep the car’s speed slightly under the speed of light?”
“We have to get out of this town, Kurt.” John said, determined, but disturbingly monotone.
“Well, I’ll give you this; it’s more than a little strange and I guess, given your overreaction, you are not a huge fan of musicals, but I don’t think that’s worth dying in a fiery car crash over, so I gotta ask—why now? Why do you want to leave so insanely badly now? What could have possibly have happened in the ten minutes since I left you in that diner that could possibly warrant a semi-psychotic break like this?”
“They know! I don’t know how they know it, but they know everything!” John shouted, inflection returning to his voice.
“Right, they know everything; sure, of course they do, buddy. Hey, wait, one little thing though; what do you mean by they know everything? What do they know and, for that matter, who is they exactly?”
“Everything, Kurt, they know who I am; they know who you are, where we came fr
om, our pasts, my love for adorable baby animals. I’m telling you they know everything!”
“If I may play Devil’s advocate for a second, without you taking it all wrong and driving us off the road to meet our inevitable doom; may I suggest that they probably just looked us up on the Internet or something? You know, I hear that thing is really starting to catch on; lots of people are using it these days.”
“Then how do you explain how they knew about the bank vault? They know we robbed that bank and on top of that, they know what was in the bank vault, Kurt! Furthermore, I think they know why we had to break in!”
“But how could they possibly know that? We’re the only ones that knew that. As far as I know, the news hasn’t even reported on any of the gory details yet.”
“That’s precisely my point. That waitress back there was able to give me my entire life’s story, in the creepiest way possible I might add, including the vault.”
“How is that even remotely possible? What’s going on here?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll tell you one thing for certain, we’re not sticking around to find out! We are going to get as far away from here as possible, find wherever my brother got off to, and never come within five states of this freak-fest ever again; so help us, God!”
“So are we going to at least stop for breakfast on the way?” Mac asked, sleepily from the back.
“Shut up, Mac!” John and Kurt both shouted.
“Man, you guys are like the worst road trip buddies,” Mac replied. John and Kurt merely ignored him.
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