Banjo pulled the bus into the parking lot, which was empty, and drove around to the back of the building. The employees, bouncers, bartenders, and dancers all parked in the rear. There were almost twenty cars here now that ranged from new luxury cars to rusted and ancient hatchbacks. That was an excellent sign. While Banjo had never met Pop and wasn’t sure he even existed, he knew everyone else here. He was a regular and an outlaw, so he was treated as a VIP. The club was huge and had rooms for dancers to live and work in. There were nicer suite-type rooms upstairs for celebrity dancers and special guests.
There was a loud hiss as the air-powered brakes stopped the bus. The engine cut off, and the door opened with the squeal of metal on metal where a particularly large mailbox had met its end. Banjo walked quickly to the rear door of the club, with the intention of letting Crow have his way with the iron bars and the wooden door behind it, but before he arrived, the door opened inward, the bolt clacked, and the barred door swung wide.
“Banjo? What the hell are you doing here—and the bus?”
It was Slick, a bouncer who was thin and wiry but could kick anyone’s ass. And he did, several times a night whether they needed it or not. He was called Slick on account of his long, oily hair. It was literally dripping with some oily substance. He smiled. A chipped and stained row of teeth appeared from between thin lips and a field of dark stubble.
“Get your ass in here, man. We have food if you’re hungry.”
“Starved.” Banjo smiled as he walked through the back door, Old Crow his plus one.
“So where are the guys? How have you fared with all this shit?” Slick was looking back occasionally as he worked his way through a maze of cheap paneling, dirty carpets, and faded marquee posters of strippers. The building was a dark and gloomy place even when it had power, but now it was pitch black. Only the electric lantern Slick held high illuminated their path.
“We’re OK, holed up in a big-ass store across town. Thought I would take a ride and check on folks.”
“Mighty decent of you, man,” Slick said, and then he made two fatal mistakes. First he said, “It’s just me, Dar, and some of the girls.” And second, he turned his back on Banjo.
Old Crow dropped on Slick’s shiny head. Banjo was a little miffed he had to touch Old Crow to Slick’s hair. He picked up the light and walked to the office, where Dar no doubt was. Dar was a fat cripple who kept the books, did the ordering, answered phones, and got blow jobs from beautiful women. Women who would turn their lips up in disgust and tell him to fuck off if he didn’t sign their paychecks and give them large cash bonuses. The office was empty. Banjo walked down the hall that led through the kitchen and into the main room.
The main room was large. Across the front of it ran a stage with three poles. There were also several satellite stages around the edge of the room, smaller and each with one pole in the center. There were usually tables and chairs filling the room, but they were all pushed to the side. Eight girls and Dar were in the middle of the room, surrounded by several lanterns like the one Banjo held. Dar was naked in his wheelchair. He was more disgusting naked. His legs were just bones covered in white flesh sticking out from under a massive, rash-covered belly. The girls were all dressed in sweats, running shoes, and tank tops and were lying or sitting on sleeping bags.
“Ah, Banjo! Welcome to the throne room of my kingdom.” Dar was holding a bottle of something that got him most of the way to drunk and was waving his free hand in the air. No one asked about Slick, and the girls looked bored, even pissed.
“Come, Sir Banjo, and kneel so thou shall be knighted.”
“You’re the king?” Banjo asked.
“The one and only! Of all the lands!”
“And you want me to kneel before you?” A sober man might have caught the note of disbelief in the steady voice, a hint of pending murder in the stare.
“Yes, so you shall be knighted.” Dar waved his hand around in the air, took a pull from the bottle, and raised his arm again.
Banjo raised and lowered Old Crow in one fluid motion. Dar was still smiling when his head caved in. One girl gave a little squeal. The rest looked at the man in the wheelchair with the red hole in his head as if they were watching a saltshaker sit on a table. A couple of the girls looked scared when Banjo turned toward them.
“Guess I am the king now.” He smiled. “Let’s go. Get all your shit and help me move the liquor out back.”
“The fuck we will!” It was a buxom blonde, as most of the ladies were, and she held a gun leveled at Banjo. “I ain’t going anywhere with you. You just murdered Dar for no reason, and where’s Slick?”
“Are you really sorry I killed them?” Old Crow rested on his right shoulder, dripping gore on the ground behind him.
“No, of course not, but you’re a fucking murderer. I don’t trust you.”
Banjo walked toward her. She raised the gun and pulled the hammer back, ready to shoot. He stopped and looked her in the eye. He was about to lunge at her when suddenly the blonde screamed, dropped the gun, and clawed at her face. Another girl had pulled a can of pepper spray and sprayed the woman. Banjo let Crow land on the blonde’s head to quiet her and snatched up the gun. He smiled at the pepper sprayer.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Tawny, Milky Way on stage.” She was blonde, a bit younger and more buxom than the dead gunslinger.
“Well, thanks for the help,” Banjo said. “Now ladies, no more shit. Get your acts together. Tawny, come with me.”
They all complied. Each girl gathered up as much liquor as she could carry and took it to the waiting bus. Banjo heard an engine start and saw two of the dancers driving off. He fired at the car and took out the rear window. The car swerved but kept on going.
He was down to five in his harem and couldn’t let the numbers dip any lower. “On the bus now! No more fucking around or I kill everyone.”
The remaining four plus Tawny walked toward the bus.
“Wait!” Banjo said. “Strip first.”
Once again, they all complied without batting a lash. Tawny gave him a questioning look.
“You too! Off! All of it!”
Five nude girls got on the bus. Banjo came in last and shut the door. He started the engine and headed back to the home improvement store.
§
The big bus was slowly creeping toward the highway. The two escaped dancers were in an old convertible that had seen better days, a brunette named Wendy in the driver’s seat and a blonde named Sally the passenger. Wendy and Sally had been close from day one when Sally took her under her wing.
Wendy watched the bus, intending to follow it from a distance. Sally was slumped over, blood coming from a wound high up on her shoulder. She was moaning. The bleeding stopped but not the pain. She was very fortunate the bullet had passed completely through her flesh, not stopping inside her body, and it hadn’t hit bone. She needed attention or it would get infected.
The bus was heading up the highway. Wendy didn’t care for the bitches she had danced with just a few weeks ago, but in the last few days they hadn’t been strippers anymore—they had become people, sisters, and a family of sorts. She knew even Tawny was acting out of fear, but why didn’t she just spray Banjo in the face? Maybe, like a lot of these women, she had been so abused that it clouded her decision-making when it came to abusive men. Still, Tawny was a stupid bitch who needed to be watched closely.
“Hold on, Sally, you’ll be OK,” Wendy said, hoping her words were true.
§
Banjo was getting the bus up to speed. He made the bitches all sit far away from each other so they couldn’t cause trouble. He could see them through a set of massive rearview mirrors above his head. They were all just staring out the window closest to them. As he pulled the bus onto the highway, he did a double take.
Was that the van? No fucking way. That bike-killing coon is back on the dance card.
He had given up hope of getting revenge. He had been planning to keep looking but didn’t think he had a chance of ever finding the men in the van. But the van was in the middle of the long-term parking lot of the airport next to some big-ass hole in the ground. He was elated, what a great day! He’d gotten his harem and a location of the van he sought. He already had his evening planned: reunite with his brothers, party, and then go kill the bastards who had fucked up their bikes.
20.
Lisa was really struggling. The sun was low in the sky. They walked about a quarter-mile before she had to stop. She pointed to the housing development on the hill.
“We have to…my house…” She was out of breath and covered in sweat. Cooper looked back. They still had time. He started searching the cars until he found one with the keys in it, no zombies, and large enough for Lisa. He started the pickup truck and slowly pushed the car in front of it out of the way. He backed down the road and jumped out. He went around, but Lisa was already dropping the tailgate.
“Let me lie back here.”
Cooper helped her sit on the tailgate, and she kind of lay back and shimmied as far as she could get. Ana was already in the cab, waiting to go. He started driving up the highway and watched as the dead receded a little farther from view.
§
Cooper followed the highway for about two miles. The cars thinned out and the road cleared. Apparently, all the cars that were stopped for miles were stopped because of a wreck. He came to the gatehouse and took the truck across the grassy shoulder, across the access road, and up the windy road that led past the gatehouse and to a secondary gate at the top of the hill.
At the top, three armed gunmen met him. Lisa came from around the back of the truck.
“It’s me, guys.”
An older man ran over and hugged her. They were all smiling. The other two men were still holding their guns but were more relaxed.
“I thought you were dead!” The old man hugged her again. “We couldn't find you anywhere.”
“It’s a long and embarrassing story,” she said.
She introduced him to Cooper. “This is my neighbor, Mr. Alfred.”
“Thank you for bringing Lisa back to us, but you also brought all of the dead people for ten miles around.” He pointed, and sure enough the dead, thousands of them, were moving like a slow river of dark filth off the highway and across the grass.
“Don’t worry,” Cooper said. “I will lead them away from you. Can my friend Ana stay with you?”
“No,” Ana snapped. “I want to go with you.”
Lisa faced him. “Can you come back after you lead the dead away?”
“I don’t know. I can try. I need to get to my sister. Maybe I will pass this way again.”
Ana was tearing up. “I knew you were lying. Just like all the others. You told me I didn’t have to go anywhere I didn’t want to.”
Cooper didn’t know what to say or do. “I guess…”
Lisa stepped in. “Come with me. I have a house here and you can stay with me.” She led Ana away, talking low. Ana stopped and looked back at Cooper after a few moments and waved. Then she ran back to him and hugged him.
“Thanks,” she said.
“It may be a while, but I will return to visit you.”
“OK,” she said and kissed him on the cheek.
Lisa had walked back over, and she hugged him too. “I can’t thank you enough. I hope you do get back here.”
She and Ana held hands as he waved goodbye. He felt a little choked up. He barely knew the two, but in this new world they were his family and best friends.
§
Back at the highway, Cooper started blowing the pickup’s horn and yelled out the window a few times for good measure. He stood on the doorjamb to look at the dead, and they were all flowing back toward him and away from the houses. He blew the horn a few more times and yelled a little for several minutes until they were closer. He had no idea what he was going to do next. The sun was almost down, and he had trouble seeing the dead behind him.
The truck rumbled along at a snail’s pace. He still had to periodically stop and wait for the dead to catch up. He used the scope to watch, but it was so dark he couldn’t see them until they were really close. He had no idea how many were behind him. The dead were almost endless when he last saw them, a long line that stretched back miles behind him. He had to start planning to ditch them in some way. Best if he could trap them somewhere.
After almost two hours, he had to trust that the dead had passed the housing development. They all seemed to be following him. He took the truck off the main highway and across a large, open grassy field in the dark until he came across a large cement drainage ditch. He knew he would find one of these ditches as he’d seen them out here a million times. He planned to lure the dead into it, knowing they couldn’t get out again easily, if at all. When he reached the ditch, it was perfect, wide and deep.
He needed to lure them into it, not just next to it, which meant getting the truck down in it. It would be impossible to drive the truck in without destroying it. The edges dropped about five feet straight down before the bottom started to slant toward the center. He found a sizable rock and put it on the floor by the gas pedal. He shifted the truck into drive, and it started to roll forward. He pushed the stone down. It fell on the pedal, and the truck shot forward and flew into the ditch. It made a crashing sound when it hit the bottom that made Cooper glad he wasn’t in it.
Cooper jumped into the ditch, worried because the truck had stalled, but it started right up again. He blew the horn several times and waited. It felt like it was taking a long time for the dead to arrive. He jumped out and stood on the roof but couldn't see. It was pitch black. He had a choice: kill the engine and listen, or climb out of the ditch in the dark and see if he could get an idea where they were. He killed the engine and listened, nothing. He turned on the radio and found the emergency station—a human voice droning on seemed good for his purposes. He turned up the volume.