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PRAISE FOR

Brace for Impact

"Wait, it's not one of those choose-your-own-adventure books? No thanks."

—"Small Balls" Hill

"Just because I share a bed with you doesn't mean I have to read your crap book. Now, go make me a sandwich."

—Ballena, www.ballena53.com

"I have disposable income, dude, but I don't want to read your book. I lived it, dude."

—Mick Aloha, www.mickaloha.com

"I didn't come all the way here...to Memphis, Tennessee...to read your crap book."

—Jake Bastion, C.E.O. of the M.V.W.F.

"My dog told me it's great."

—Sir Timothy

"...now, wait a minute. This Mick Aloha character, is he the one that hit me?"

—Punky Stratton, M.V.W.F. disputed champion

Other Books by Apocalypse D

BRACE

FOR

IMPACT

Apocalypse D

NOTE: If you bought this book without a cover, then how did you know which book you were buying?

Although several characters in this book are loosely based on the author's friends, all characterizations are completely fictional. All events in this book are fictional, with the exception of Mick Aloha's drunken rampages, which are real and well-documented.

BRACE FOR IMPACT

More information about the author can be found at www.themoonmasters.com. The author can be contacted at apocalypsedowell@gmail.com.

ISBN 978-1-4303-2207-8

This is the first print edition.

First print edition: June 2007

Any mentioned trademarked or copyrighted products or names have trademarks and copyrights owned by the respective trademark and copyright owners. As such, these trademarks and copyrights should be respected and treated with suitable reverence.

This book is dedicated to Punky Stratton and all of the other small-time wrestlers out there. Keep breaking necks, boys.

WARNING:

This book contains adult language and childish situations. If you're offended by naughty swears please proceed no further.

Chapter 1

Monday 6:40am (E.S.T.)

The smell of meat disturbed Apocalypse Dowell's slumber.

"Come out and meat your death. That's a play on words." It was one of Apocalypse Dowell's lesser enemies.

Apocalypse Dowell knew how slowly this enemy moved, so he took the time to put on a pair of jeans and a green and white checked flannel shirt before stepping out of his bedroom.

When Apocalypse Dowell stepped over a stack of his CDs in the hallway and fell into the living room, his enemy Steakzooka shot a 12 ounce NY Strip at him; the projectile narrowly missed Apocalypse Dowell's head.

Steakzooka, a five-foot two-inch purple Japanese robot with a stolen American speech card, stood over Apocalypse Dowell, aimed his bazooka shaped steak-shooter, and fired again. Apocalypse Dowell rolled on the floor, dodging the projectile.

"I've allowed you to keep living too long, vegetarian. Now, taste the metallic irony of a meat-loving robot."

When Apocalypse Dowell stood up, Steakzooka switched his steak-shooter to automatic and fired steaks at Apocalypse Dowell so quickly they covered him up to his neck. Apocalypse Dowell couldn't move.

"That was too easy, Apocalypse Dowell. Don't you have any weapons?"

"Yeah, I do, but they're attached to the ceiling."

Steakzooka admired the row of specialized super villain-fighting weaponry, which was attached to the ceiling with duct tape. Steakzooka unsuccessfully jumped to try to reach them.

"They're too high. How am I supposed to reach them?"

"You're not." Apocalypse Dowell struggled against the meat, but couldn't move. "They're my weapons and I'm tall. It keeps short people and robots like you away from my weapons."

Steakzooka laughed an evil robotic laugh. "How does it feel to be defeated, Apocalypse Dowell? How does it feel? Soon, I will control the world with my meat arsenal. Then, all will bow before Steakzooka."

Apocalypse Dowell struggled to free himself from his meat bondage, but the more he struggled, the deeper he sank into the pile of steaks.

Steakzooka walked up to the pile of meat and grabbed Apocalypse Dowell's hair.

"Where are those plans? Where are the plans that can destroy Mick Aloha? With you two out of the way, I can never be stopped."

"I thought you and Aloha were friends." Apocalypse Dowell shook his head and freed himself from the robot's grip. "He invited you to his Super Bowl party last year. He said you brought meat pie and a casserole."

"Yes, all part of my devious, deceptive, well-thought-out plot. Now, where are those plans?"

"You'll just kill me if I tell you. Why don't you go take a look?"

"Why don't I just kill you instead?" Steakzooka started firing steaks pointblank at Apocalypse Dowell's head. Struggling to maintain consciousness, Apocalypse Dowell stared at the tube connected to the back of Steakzooka's steak-shooter. It ran through the open apartment door and into the hallway, somehow supplying Steakzooka with steaks. Just before he lost consciousness, Apocalypse Dowell smelled barbecue.

Apocalypse Dowell awoke completely covered with steak. He could barely breathe, and when he opened his mouth to help his breathing, the foul taste of meat filled his mouth.

He thought he was going to lose consciousness again when he heard a low rumble approaching him through the pile of meat. It grew louder until the meat on his head was removed. Mick Aloha, his sworn archenemy who lived in the apartment across the hall, looked down at him.

"What the hell are you doing in here, dude?" Mick Aloha collected more of the steaks and placed them in a wheelbarrow, freeing Apocalypse Dowell.

"I was trapped. I guess you saved me."

"Damn it! I knew there had to be a catch to so much free meat." Mick Aloha continued to collect steaks. "Where the hell did it all come from anyway, dude? Was that purple bastard here?"

"Yeah, it was Steakzooka." Apocalypse Dowell picked pieces of meat off his clothing and threw them onto his living room floor.

"You rang?" The voice came from the hallway outside the apartment.

Steakzooka then burst through the wall like the Kool-Aid man, firing steaks at Apocalypse Dowell.

Mick Aloha jumped in front of Dowell and started catching the flying meat, tossing it into his wheelbarrow.

"Damn you, Dowell! My love of meat is more powerful than my hatred of you!"

As Mick Aloha continued collecting the projectiles, he and Apocalypse Dowell edged closer to Steakzooka.

"I can see you're quite a meat lover, Mick Aloha. But, why would you help Apocalypse Dowell? He's your arch enemy." Steakzooka increased his steak-shooter's firing speed.

"Two reasons, jackass," Mick Aloha, just inches away from Steakzooka, replied. "One, I love meat. Two, I hate robots."

Apocalypse Dowell then ran behind Steakzooka and grabbed his steak-shooter, leaving the robot momentarily vulnerable as Mick Aloha stepped up and gave Steakzooka the Big Boot. Steakzooka's head bounced off the ceiling and landed in a corner of the room as his body collapsed. The head started beeping.

Mick Aloha and Apocalypse Dowell just made it out of the apartment before the head exploded.

Chapter 2

Monday 6:18p.m. (E.S.T.)

It was dark when the last firefighters left. Police officers and city officials stood in groups around the property, talking together in low tones as the former residents sat on the sidewalk. Mick Aloha and Apocalypse Dowell stood beside what had been the complex's laundry room.

Mick Aloha kicked at some of the charred remains. "Well, Dowell, this sucks."

"Yeah, it does, Mick. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"I don't know what you're going to do, either, dude. Myself, I'm going to stay with my family."

"I just wish I had somewhere to stay for a while. At least for tonight."

"Ah, I see what you're getting at, Dowell. Don't worry, there's a Motel 6 just about a mile from here. You know where it is, fool, up by that vegetarian restaurant you always go to. They'll fix you right up, Dowell."

"Thanks, Mick. It's just, well, uh, I don't really have any money right now. Steakzooka woke me up so I didn't have my wallet on me and..."

"Should have already been up, Dowell. You gotta get up early and get things done."

"OK, I know. Anyway, my wallet and my credit cards."

"Credit cards are evil, dude. You shouldn't buy something you can't afford. I never do."

"So anyway, Aloha, I don't have any cash and it'll be a while before they can replace my cards and the banks are closed and, well, my family moved to Florida."

"Don't you have any friends, dude? You're always bragging about how many more friends you have than me. Where the hell are they?"

"I haven't been able to get in touch with them. My phone's melted, and I don't have any money for a pay phone. Can I use the phone at your family's house?"

"Dowell, let me get this straight. There's no way I'd ever let you into my family's house."

As Apocalypse Dowell contemplated the advantages of hitting Mick Aloha on the head, a messenger robot ran up to them. Mick Aloha took a karate pose.

The robot, which had a bright yellow case and stood nearly six feet tall, scanned Mick Aloha and Apocalypse Dowell briefly before a cover lifted on its chest, revealing a TV screen.

The screen flickered on and the face of a woman appeared. It was Katie, the girl Mick Aloha and Apocalypse Dowell had fought over for years. She'd shown little to no interest in either of them, and had finally moved across the country to get away from them.

"I need your help," she said. "536 34th Avenue San Francisco. I'm being held here by an evil you can't imagine. There might be a chance if you can be here at seven o'clock on Saturday night. Be careful." The image disappeared; the robot turned and walked away.

"Well, see you, Dowell." Mick Aloha turned away and started walking down the sidewalk.

"Hold on a second, Aloha. Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Mick Aloha stopped and turned back around. "To get my girl, Dowell."

"She's all the way in San Francisco, Aloha. San Francisco. We're in Kentucky. Do you know how far it is from here to San Francisco?"

"A couple hundred miles? Hell, I can run it once I get a burger in me."

"Two thousand miles, Aloha. And, part of that's across a desert."

"I know that, Dowell. I read the paper and I own an atlas, you jackass."

"Well, how are you going to get there, then?"

"Hell if I know, dude. Damn it, Dowell. Everything's all clear until you start asking damn questions. What am I going to do? I'm going to save my girl. How am I going to get there? Hell if I know, dude. Damn you, Dowell."

"Look, Aloha. I'm going, too. She asked me, too, and I can't have you botching this thing up and..."

"Damn you, Dowell! You're not going. I know, you can stay at my family's place. I'll ask my mom to make you goddam vegetarian breakfasts. How about that? Oh, there's satellite TV, so after everyone goes to bed you can watch porn. Wait, do you even like girls?"

"Damn you, Aloha!" Apocalypse Dowell charged Mick Aloha and tripped over the edge of the sidewalk, causing Mick Aloha's Big Boot to miss his head by inches. The Big Boot's momentum threw Mick Aloha to the sidewalk, too.

"I'm going, Aloha," Apocalypse Dowell said as he lay on the sidewalk, holding his lower back. They stood up.

"OK, you son of a bitch. You'll give me something to laugh at along the way. Now, how the hell are we going to get there?"

"Don't you have any super powers that can get you there quicker?"

"No, Dowell, I don't. All of my superpowers have to do with kicking ass. I always assumed I'd be where the action was. How about you?"

"No, me neither. Most of my powers relate to not doing stuff, like not eating meat or drinking alcohol. Oh, this is cool. I can make my digestive system stop so if I swallow poison it won't hurt me."

"Damn it, Dowell. You're useless. Apoca-useless Dowell is what they ought to call you. You got any money?"

"No, I already told you not until the insurance company pays me or the banks send me new credit cards. How about you?"

"Yes, I have disposable income, dude. Didn't I tell you? But, I spent my last paycheck in twenty minutes, and I've been eating burgers for breakfast and lawn clippings for dinner since then. So, no, Dowell, I don't have any money." Mick Aloha reached into his pocket and removed a $20 bill. "Well, I'll be goddamned. Here's twenty dollars. I'm set, Dowell, but I guess you're still screwed. Let's walk."

They started walking down the sidewalk.

"Aloha, if she could get a message to a robot, why didn't she just sent it to the police?"

"Because she wanted the best, Dowell. And, that's me." Mick Aloha rubbed his hands against his blue Hawaiian shirt as they continued down the road.

The sun dropped below the horizon as they cleared the city limits of Elizabethtown, Kentucky, and merged by foot onto the interstate. Cars zipped by them as they walked south along I-65.

"This is a bad idea, Aloha. It's illegal to walk on the interstate." Apocalypse Dowell was hungry and sleepy, but didn't want to tell Mick Aloha.

"Damn it, Dowell. Can't you break the rules for once?" Mick Aloha squinted his eyes to block the headlights of the northbound traffic. "How long do you think it would take us on the back roads? Forever. That's how long it would take, Dowell. You know why? Because we'd die. There are thousands of farmers out there waiting for a couple young bucks like us, well, like me, to come along. Next thing you know, you're some farmer's bitch. I'm no one's bitch, Dowell."

"Shut up, bitch."

"Damn you, Dowell." Mick Aloha shook his head and furrowed his brow. "Anyway, we might get a ride, too. That would save us some time."

Twenty minutes and two miles later, Mick Aloha said, "I have an idea, dude. We'll walk to the truck stop in Sonora and get us something to eat. Then, we can work us out a ride. They'll be more likely to pick us up there than they would on the road. Lots of characters out on the road. And, there's the whores."

"The what?" Apocalypse Dowell had never been to the truck stop in Sonora, and he was starting to think that he didn't want to go.

"Whores, dude. Truck stop whores. Hookers. Prostitutes. Ladies of the night. Women of the willow world. The oldest profession, dude. They're all there."

"Yeah, I know what whores are, Aloha. Why are there whores in Sonora is what I want to know."

"Every truck stop has them, dude. It's lonely out on the road. No one to talk to, family's a thousand miles away. No one to love. Sometimes, these guys are on the road for months at a time. It's only natural, Dowell."

Chapter 3

Tuesday 4:08am (E.S.T.)

When they arrived at the truck stop in Sonora, seven rigs, with their lights off and their engines running, sat in the back lot. The diesel pumps were quiet; two cars sat in front of the truck stop's restaurant.

Apocalypse Dowell looked through the restaurant's front windows and saw several customers eating early breakfasts and late dinners.

When they stepped into the restaurant the music stopped; the customers and waitresses all turned and stared at Mick Aloha and Apocalypse Dowell.

"Don't worry, Dowell," Mick Aloha whispered as they eased forward. "These are my people. They're not all stuck up like you."

Apocalypse Dowell and Mick Aloha walked to the counter without making any sudden moves. The country music started up again and the customers returned to their meals and conversations.

The lone waitress behind the counter ignored them.

Apocalypse Dowell glanced around without making eye contact with anyone. Eight red stools sat in front of the bar; four-top tables lined the outer walls. The restrooms were in the back. The place smelled of cigarettes and charred meat.

Mick Aloha pulled a dirty menu from behind the counter. "What're you gonna get, Dowell? An apple?"

"I don't think they have apples here, Aloha. Look, I don't think we're really welcome here."

"Dowell, I told you these are my kind of people. They just aren't used to hippies like you. They're good people. Give 'em a chance."

An announcement came through the P.A. system. "Roy, your shower's ready."

"I'm going to run for it, Aloha. You coming?"

"Calm down, dude. Here, take a look at the menu and find you something to eat."

Ten minutes later, they knew what they wanted but the waitress continued to ignore them.

When the waitress, who had red-rimmed glasses and fake blond hair, walked past them, Mick Aloha said, "Excuse me, miss?"

She didn't reply.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Lady? Woman? Excuse me, waitress? Can we get some service?"

Again she didn't reply.

Mick Aloha ran his fingers through his short brown hair. "Hey bitch, can we get some goddam service over here?"

The flying plates missed Mick Aloha's head by centimeters. He and Apocalypse Dowell ran out of the truck stop as seven big truckers and an angry waitress followed them.

They slipped through the darkness to the back parking lot, ran up to the closest truck, opened the passenger side door, and jumped inside.

The gun sure looked real.

The truck driver they had awoken pointed it at them, apparently trying to decide what to do. Mick Aloha slowly closed the truck's passenger door behind them.

"What in the hell are you doing in my truck?" the trucker asked. It appeared that he had been asleep on the floor in his truck, right where a passenger seat would have been if his truck had one.

"Sorry, sir," Apocalypse Dowell said. "We were..."

"Breaker breaker one nine," Mick Aloha interrupted. "This here's the Flyin' Hawaiian looking to talk to that trucker right in front of me, come back."

The trucker said, "This here's the Witch Doctor outta that Chi-town, go ahead."

"Mercy sakes there, Witch Doctor, we got some bears on our tails and were just looking for a place to lay low till the heat cools off, over."

The trucker lowered his gun and turned to see the seven truckers and waitress running through the parking lot, searching for the boys and swearing. Mick Aloha, Apocalypse Dowell, and the trucker watched them search the lot for several minutes before they walked back to the front of the truck stop.

"This here's the Witch Doctor, how's about you tell me what's going on before I end up with the bear chasing me across the country, over."

"Mercy sakes alive there, good buddy," Mick Aloha said. "We was just in there trying to get us some eats when those boys surrounded us and tried to take our money, over."

"And the woman?"

"She just wanted a big tip. But, the service wasn't good, over."

The trucker, who wore faded jeans and a light flannel shirt, stared at them and started laughing.

"Sorry we woke you up," Apocalypse Dowell said.

"Damn you, Dowell. Just when I was breaking through with my superior Truckerese, you have to interrupt. Don't you know when to keep quiet? You're not smarter than me, jackass."

"No, he's OK," the trucker said. "And, I was about to wake up, anyway. Where you boys headed?"

"California."

"Well, mercy sakes, good buddies, I'm heading on over to Shaky Side myself." The Witch Doctor started the engine. "Let's put four on the floor."

Chapter 4

Tuesday 4:42am (E.S.T.)

Mick Aloha and Apocalypse Dowell tried to make themselves comfortable on the truck's floor.

The trucker looked down at them from his seat. "Mercy sakes, good buddies, how ya'll doing down there?"

Mick Aloha said, "Well, it's not the type of accommodation I'm used to, because I have lots of disposable..."

"It's fine," Apocalypse Dowell said.

"Damn you, Dowell, don't interrupt me."

The trucker shook his head. "Aw, settle down. Now, why don't you boys tell me your stories? Mercy sakes, we got two thousand miles to go. Gotta start somewhere."

Mick Aloha sat up. "Well, I'm a superhero and this guy is a jackass. I have a secret killing move, the Big Boot. Once I've kicked my enemies' asses, I kick them in the face and that about does it. My style is a mixture of karate and professional wrestling. Oh, and my name, Mick Aloha, is derived from my wrestling persona of the same name."

"Mercy sakes, that sounds exciting, boy. You got any real powers? Like, can you fly or do lasers come out your eyes?"

"No, dude, nothing like that. But, I do have super strength and lots of disposable income. I guess I'm like Batman, just not gay."

"And how about you, slim?" The trucker glanced at Apocalypse Dowell.

Before Apocalypse Dowell could speak, Mick Aloha said, "Oh, this guy? You don't want to know about this guy. He's the laziest and most goddam boring person you'll ever meet. All he does is sleep, eat cereal, and try to steal my girlfriends. Oh, and he doesn't eat meat, either."

Apocalypse Dowell gave Mick Aloha a punch to the stomach. Mick Aloha retched and then hurried to put his work boots back on so he could start kicking.

The trucker stopped the melee by threatening to drop them off in Bonnieville, a small town they were passing at the time.

The trucker then turned up the country music on the radio. Mick Aloha and Apocalypse Dowell took the hint and stopped talking. Then, they fell asleep.

When Apocalypse Dowell awoke, the truck wasn't moving. The engine caused the truck to vibrate heavily, but there was no forward motion. When he looked up, he found they were in line for diesel at a small gas station. The sun was well above the horizon.

The trucker looked down at Apocalypse Dowell with a big smile on his face. "Cheapest diesel this side of the Alleghenies. And, that's sayin' a lot, boy."

"Where are we?"

"Bowling Green," the trucker replied. "Home of Western Kentucky University, home of the Hilltoppers. See boy, they got this big hill on campus and that's why they're called the Hilltoppers. They say you can tell how many years someone's been going to school there by the size of their calves. Hell, I don't know, but that's what they say."

"How long have we been sitting here?" Apocalypse Dowell asked. "How long have we been asleep?"

"Mercy sakes, two questions at once. You're like Alex Trebek, son. No wait, he just says answers. Anyway, you were asleep about two hours and we been a-sittin here for one of 'em."

"We've been waiting to get gas for an hour?" Apocalypse Dowell asked. Mick Aloha sat up, rubbing his eyes with one hand and blocking the sun with the other.

"Diesel, son, diesel. You know what'd happen if you put gas in a diesel engine? You want to know? Hell, anyway, yeah they got it cheap I told you and I'm not in no particular hurry to get out to California."

Mick Aloha said, "You're a truck driver and you're not in a hurry? What kind of truck driver are you?"

"An honest one," the trucker replied with a grin. "Anyway, I'm dropping off my load in Memphis tonight, so there ain't no use in hurrying."

Forty-five minutes later, they were back on I-65 with a full tank of diesel. Mick Aloha sat on the floor with an assortment of snacks he had purchased at the gas station. Apocalypse Dowell ate a candy bar. As he drove, the trucker ate fat-free potato chips.

"Dowell, I don't see how you can be a vegetarian and be so unhealthy," Mick Aloha said. "All you eat is candy bars. Don't you know chocolate is made with milk, and milk is made from cows?"

Apocalypse Dowell replied, "Milk comes from cows, you jackass..."

"Damn you, Dowell! Damn it, damn it. I was making a point." Mick Aloha's face turned red, but he couldn't stand up to attack Apocalypse Dowell because of the assortment of snacks resting on his lap.

"Damn you! Damn you, Dowell! Just wait till I finish eating, Dowell."

The trucker ignored them.

"Anyway, Aloha, you don't have to kill a cow to get milk from it. So, it's OK."

"It isn't natural, Dowell, drinking cow milk," Mick Aloha said. "Humans are the only animals that drink another animal's milk."

"Don't you drink milk and eat chocolate?"

"I eat chocolate, but I don't claim to be a hippy vegetarian, either, now do I? And, if you're a vegetarian, why do you wear leather? You're a hypocrite."

"Because I don't really care if animals die. I just don't want to eat them. Anyway, how the hell do you think you can call me unhealthy? You eat beef for every meal."

Mick Aloha took a bite of beef jerky and chewed. "Dowell, we're at the top of the food chain. If we weren't, other animals would eat us, so it's fair. And, don't worry about my health. Whenever I get a pain in my chest, I just beat my fist against my chest like this and it goes away."

Mick Aloha then beat himself in the chest three times.

"Mercy sakes, boys," the trucker interrupted. "You boys got any gum? Chewing or bubble will do."

They didn't have any gum.

"Gotta stop and get me some gum," the trucker said under his breath.

"I hear they have great gum down in Memphis," Mick Aloha said.

"Mercy sakes, is that so?" the trucker said. "I reckon I can wait till we get to Memphis. I wanted to stop over at Graceland and pay my respects, anyway. Good idea, ol' son."

The trucker went back to his potato chips and the road. They crossed the state-line and entered Tennessee.

"Mercy sakes, boys, they call it the Volunteer State, but I ain't never seen no one down here volunteering for anything. They get paid, just like we do, boys. It's a farce."

"So's bluegrass," Apocalypse Dowell said. "People everywhere think we're idiots because we don't know what color grass is."

"I seen real bluegrass," the trucker said. "And, I mean real. I don't mean this stuff they try to pass off as bluegrass, either. I'll tell you about it sometime."

When the trucker picked up his CB receiver, Mick Aloha leaned over to Apocalypse Dowell and said, "You got any money, dude? I can pay you back."

"What? You know I didn't have any money when we left. All I've got is the change I found on the road while we were walking."

"Damn it. I shouldn't have bought so much beef jerky. We have to get some money, Dowell."

They sat back and fell asleep.

Chapter 5

Tuesday 10:17am (C.S.T.)

They awoke to the sounds of the trucker on this CB.

"...then keep the dirty side down and the shiny side up. This is the Witch Doctor, over and out."

The boys sat up.

The trucker looked over and said, "Ohayou gozaimasu, boys. Learned that from a Japanese trucker. That's how they say good morning, ohayou gozaimasu. I like the way it sounds."

"Where are we, dude?"

"Mercy sakes, good buddy, were about 20 miles outside of that Memphis town."

An announcement on the radio caught their attention.

"...the wrestling capital of the world presents Get in on the Action! where you can get in on the action! M.V.W.F. Champion Punky Stratton will take on all comers. Entry fee is $20 and if you can last two minutes in the ring without getting pinned, you win ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS! Tonight, tonight, tonight, wrestling, wrestling, wrestling, at the Man Pants Arena. Doors open at seven! Ten dollars buys the whole seat, but you'll only need the edge!"

"Give me twenty dollars, Dowell."

"I don't have twenty dollars. And, if I did, I wouldn't give it to you so you could go get your ass kicked."

"Damn you, Dowell. Give me twenty dollars."

"I told you, I don't have twenty dollars."

"I need twenty dollars."

The trucker continued to look at the road as he said, "You wanna wrastle, huh? You any count?"

"I'm the best that's ever been. There's only one Mick Aloha, and that's me."

"You gonna wrastle in that Hawaiian shirt? Mercy sakes, I don't know how well that'll go over here in Memphis, son."

"No, dude, I have several wrestling personas, all tailored to different crowd needs. I usually just use Mick Aloha for superhero work and local wrestling matches. Tonight, I think the King Cobra's going to have to strike."

"Oh, God," Apocalypse Dowell said. "I forgot about the King Cobra. Where're you going to get a get-up?"

Mick Aloha rubbed his stubbly chin and thought.

The trucker said, "Mercy sakes alive, boys, you're welcome to anything you can find in the truck."

"What're we hauling?" Apocalypse Dowell asked.

"Dynamite."

"Shit."

"Yeah, I mean up here in the cab," the Witch Doctor said. "You can't help yourself to the dynamite, of course."

As Mick Aloha started digging through the junk in the back of the cab, Apocalypse Dowell asked, "Why are you hauling dynamite?"

"Mercy sakes, how else is it gonna get around?"

"Touche."

The Witch Doctor said, "Touche, indeed, ol' son."

Mick Aloha emerged from the back of the cab with a t-shirt that read "Truck you," camouflage shorts, and a camouflage hunter's mask. He undressed, put all of the gear on, and put Apocalypse Dowell in a headlock. Apocalypse Dowell gave him a Seven Plagues Punch and the trucker yelled at them until they broke it up.

"The King Cobra's back, Dowell."

"Yeah, I see that. Why are you wearing a hunter's mask?"

"To protect my secret identity, fool. I can't go around having everyone know Mick Aloha and the King Cobra are the same person."

Apocalypse Dowell asked, "What are hunters masks for, anyway, Aloha? Just to camouflage your face?"

"No, fool, it's because animals have super senses. They can smell your breath from miles away. It stops that. You'd know that if you killed animals like I do, wussy."

"Mercy sakes, boy," the trucker interrupted. "I forgot all about that mask. Looks like you got you quite a get-up there. I'll float you the twenty if you promise to pay me a hundred if you win."

"Deal," Mick Aloha said. "Oh, as I am now the King Cobra and not Mick Aloha, please refer to me as such. And, I have a new catchphrase. Tell me what you think. The King Cobra: I strike more than the Teamsters."

"Yeah, I wouldn't say that out loud, anywhere, ever again," Apocalypse Dowell said.

"Welcome to this Memphis town," the Witch Doctor said, as they passed a sign welcoming them to Memphis.

As they made their way through the mid-day traffic on I-40 west, Mick Aloha started staring at the floor and breathing heavily. The trucker looked over at Apocalypse Dowell, who shrugged.

"Mercy sakes, there, you all right?" the Witch Doctor asked.

Mick Aloha didn't respond.

"Aloha, you all right?"

Without looking up from the floor, Mick Aloha said in a low voice, "Damn you Dowell, it's King Cobra. And, yes, I'm fine. I'm getting prepared to wrestle tonight. In my mind, I'm visualizing destroying Punky Stratton. I can't visualize it if you keep talking to me. See, Dowell, you can do anything if you can just see it in your mind. You might even be able to stop being such a wuss if you could see yourself as a tough guy."

"OK, Aloha, we'll leave you alone."

"Damn you, Dowell. King Cobra. King Fucking Cobra."

The Witch Doctor unloaded his cargo in Memphis and then reloaded, taking the whole afternoon. While they waited, Apocalypse Dowell read an American history book he had found in the truck and the King Cobra mentally prepared for the evening.

The trucker dropped them off at the Man Pants Memphis Arena at 6:30. Although the King Cobra had asked him to drop them off in the parking lot, the Witch Doctor insisted on driving them right up to the front entrance. The crowd awaiting the opening of the gates watched as they exited the truck. Some of the people in the crowd laughed.

"Now, y'all be good and don't stay out too late," the Witch Doctor said as Mick Aloha slammed the passenger-side door closed. And then through the open window he said: "I'll be back here at ten to pick you up, so be here. Don't run off with any strangers, now, OK?"

The boys nodded and got in line as the truck pulled away.

Apocalypse Dowell asked, "Do you think well ever see him again?"

"Yeah, I do," the King Cobra replied. "I have his twenty bucks."

"You know, if you lose and can't pay him back, he might not let us ride anymore."

"Lose? Didn't I tell you I visualized a victory, Dowell? Don't worry about me. I'm just afraid the crowd here might kill you while I'm up there kicking ass. They'll see me kicking ass and think, Hey, I wouldn't mind kicking some ass, too. Then, they'll look around for the first hippy they can find and well, that'll be you."

As the King Cobra finished speaking, the line started moving. When they reached the gate, they found that they had to pay to enter. The King Cobra tried to do the negotiating.

"I'm going to wrestle, tonight," he said to the man at the gate. "And, this is my manager. I have the twenty dollars to wrestle."

The gatekeeper shook his head. "That's fine, but you have to pay to get in to watch the wrestling. There's no way for me to know if you're going to really wrestle or not. If I let people in because they were carrying twenty dollars and wearing a hunting mask, I'd have to let in half of the crowd."

The people in line behind the boys started pushing forward and swearing.

"Do you know who I am?" the King Cobra asked. "I'm the King Cobra. The King Fucking Cobra. And, I strike more than the Teamsters."

The Teamsters in the crowd who chased Apocalypse Dowell and the King Cobra around the arena gave up after a half mile. Apocalypse Dowell assumed they had given up not because they were tired, but because they didn't want to miss the beginning of the event.

The King Cobra and Apocalypse Dowell stood in the service parking lot, trying to think of what to do, when the King Cobra spotted something.

"Look, Dowell." The King Cobra pointed to a far corner of the arena, where two men stood. "Let's go check it out."

They approached the men, staying out of the light cast by the parking lot lights. When they got closer, they realized the men were security guards, guarding a special entrance.

"Let's just hang out here for a few minutes and see if anyone comes through that entrance," the King Cobra said.

Apocalypse Dowell nodded and they both sat down on the concrete.

As they waited, a parade of limousines arrived. Wrestlers started exiting the limousines.

They were wrestlers. They were real wrestlers. They got paid to wrestle. They had no other jobs.

The King Cobra's face lit up.

Apocalypse Dowell shook the King Cobra. "Aloha, come on, man. We have to get in there. Don't freak out on me now."

The glaze left Mick Aloha's eyes. "Damn you, Dowell. It's King Cobra."

"OK, King Cobra. What are we going to do?"

"Dude, don't worry. I saw this on a Mentos commercial once."

Punky Stratton's signature white limousine arrived. As he stepped out of the passenger side door in the back of his limo, the King Cobra and Apocalypse Dowell approached the driver's side back door. They squatted outside the door under the window, waiting for Punky's entourage of girls and bodyguards to exit. When they had all stepped out of the limousine, the King Cobra and Apocalypse Dowell entered the limousine, crawled across the seats, and exited right behind the last of Punky's entourage.

They tried to look tough and upset. The King Cobra held his arms out to his side as he walked and flexed the muscles in his neck, emulating his namesake. Punky's entourage never looked back. Within seconds, they were inside the arena and had broken away from the group.

A rowdy crowd filled the arena that evening. The boys were surrounded by big belt buckles, beer, wrestling t-shirts, and mullets. Apocalypse Dowell buttoned his flannel shirt and tucked it into his jeans to try to fit in. His Vans still gave him away, though.

The King Cobra, with his hunting mask and trucking shirt, fit in perfectly. Some of the guys even gave him a thumbs-up as they passed.

When the roar from the crowd signaled the beginning of the evening, the boys made their way from the walkway running along the perimeter of the arena to the lower level. They wanted to be close to the action.

There were no empty seats in the whole place, so the King Cobra and Mick Aloha stood in a lower walkway, hoping someone would get drunk, pass out, and leave an empty seat.

The lights went out. Fire shot from the regulation wrestling ring's posts in the middle of the arena.

The announcer's voice boomed throughout the place. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Memphis Valley Wrestling Federation in association with Tucker's Trucks and the Coffee Shot present intense wrestling competition! Ladies and Gentlemen, let me present to you the president and CEO of M.V.W.F., Jake Bastion."

The crowd booed as Jake Bastion, who wore an expensive suit, approached the ring. His hair was dark and slicked back. He pointed at the crowd and stepped into the ring. When he began to speak, the noise in the arena drowned him out so that he had to wait for the decibel level to drop.

The King Cobra's face turned red. "Damn it, Dowell. I hate that son of a bitch. I might have to run up there right now."

The noise increased.

Apocalypse Dowell screamed, "If you go in there now, you won't get any money. And, you might get sued!"

"Don't you worry, Dowell." "I've read about law in the newspaper and I have plenty of disposable income, so I can afford a good lawyer. I should take that goddam bastard out."

Apocalypse Dowell gave up, but before the King Cobra could go after the president and CEO of M.V.W.F., the noise died down and Jake Bastion began to speak.

"Hello, idiots." Jake Bastion smiled. The boos came again, and Jake Bastion paused once more. Then, he continued, "No offense, really. I just feel that anyone stupid enough to support...Punky Stratton..."

The crowd went crazy. People stood on their seats and cheered when they heard Punky's name. Chants of "Punky! Punky!" began around the arena.

"Idiots!"

More boos followed.

"So, I checked with my people, and that lowlife...Punky Stratton...is already in the building. Now, maybe you idiots don't know this, but I'm a bit of a wrestler myself, and I think I can prove once and for all that I'm the best wrestler the world has ever known!"

The crowd hated him even more.

The King Cobra said, "Damn it, Dowell, I have no love for Punky Stratton, and actually I plan to kick his ass tonight and take his money, but that sombitch has no right calling him out like this. Damn it, damn it."

"So, if...Punky Stratton...thinks he's man enough, he'll come out here...right now...in Man Pants Memphis Arena...and take me on in a no- holds-barred match. If he wins, he's the undisputed M.V.W.F. champion and he gets a lifetime contract with M.V.W.F. If I win...he walks out of here tonight and never, ever steps into a wrestling ring again..."

The security guards who surrounded the ring held back several fans who tried to rush it.

Apocalypse Dowell held back the King Cobra, who kept repeating, "Goddam silver tongued bastard. Goddam silver tongued bastard."

Sweat poured from Jake Bastion's face. He loosened his silk tie and threw it to the crowd. They threw it back into the ring. He removed the dark jacket from his Italian suit and tossed it to the scorers' table. Jake then loosened the top two buttons on his white oxford shirt, ran his fingers through his hair, and flexed his biceps.

"So, Punky Stratton, or should I say, Chunky Satin? If you think you're man enough, come on out here for your last wrestling match...ever!"

The crowd cheered, anticipating Punky's arrival and the demise of Jake Bastion. Jake walked around the ring, his round eyes anticipating an attack. It didn't come; Punky didn't show.

"It looks like Punky Stratton's a coward after all!" As the crowd booed and threw paper cups at him, he stepped out of the ring and made his way out of the arena.

The announcer came back on, introducing the first event, which involved some minor wrestlers that the King Cobra and Apocalypse Dowell didn't care about. They leaned on the metal rail that ran in front of them, watching the wrestling and waiting for the arrival of Punky Stratton and the King Cobra's chance to break him.

The third match starred the up and coming wrestlers Ratchet Douglas and Tony "Toolbox" Tungsten. Apocalypse Dowell enjoyed the match without looking over to let the King Cobra know. He had always made fun of Mick Aloha for watching wrestling and had never understood the soap operaesque entertainment quality it held until that evening. As Tony Tungsten held Ratchet Douglas over his head, a video came on the Jumbotron. It showed Punky Stratton tied to a conveyor belt, which was slowly approaching a spinning circular saw.

The crowd was silent.

Tony put Ratchet down and they ran out of the arena together. Cameras followed them and other wrestlers as they all tried to find Punky Stratton.

As the wrestlers searched frantically for the champ, Punky continued to struggle against the ropes on the Jumbotron.

He looked into the stationary camera and said, "Jake Bastion did this to me. If I don't make it out of this alive, kill him!"

The crowd booed when they heard Jake Bastion's name, and cheered when they heard the word kill. Punky's blond mullet shook from side to side as he struggled harder against the ropes.

Then he said his catchphrase, which the crowd said along with him, "Ain't nothin' gonna hold me down!" The ropes snapped and Punky was free. Rage filled his eyes as he looked into the camera and said, "Jake Bastion, here I come."

The King Cobra jumped into the air screaming and pumping his fists. He then started the chant, "Kill Bastion! Kill Bastion!" which spread throughout the arena. Excited by his chant starting abilities, he then started the chant, "King Cobra! King Cobra!" It spread as well. He was priming the crowd. They were ready for the King Cobra.

Punky Stratton ran down the main aisle and into the ring. He stood alone in the middle of the ring, wearing a chartreuse jumpsuit and a white feather boa. His manager threw him his Elvis Death Rock sunglasses and when he put them on, the crowd screamed even louder.

One of the ringside assistants handed him a microphone.

Punky looked down at the crowd, paused, and said, "How y'all doing, Memphis?"

The crowd cheered.

"I had a bit of a close call back there, and it don't take a rocket scientist to figure out who done it, now does it?"

"No!" the crowd responded.

"When I was lying on that conveyor belt, I thought that might be the end. I thought Ol' Jake might have finally done me in. But let me tell y'all something, and Jake Bastion if you're listening this is for you, too. There ain't nothin gonna hold me down! So, Jake Bastard. Mister C...E...O. Mister Businessman. You had your chance, and you blew it. Now, I want my chance. Right now. Me and you. In...the cage!"

A metal cage started descending from the ceiling.

The King Cobra slapped Apocalypse Dowell on the arm and said, "Dude, dude, dude. It's the cage." The whites of the King Cobra's eyes grew as he watched the cage lower and stop two meters above the ring.

The Jumbotron lit up with a close-up of Jake Bastion's face.

"Junky Van Patton," Jake Bastion said over the boos. "I'd love to join you, and show you how a real man wrestles, but first there's the issue of the contract you signed for tonight's event in...Memphis, Tennessee. You said you'd take all comers who paid twenty dollars. Well, if I went in there right now and took you out, you wouldn't be able to fulfill your contract. So, I think you should take all comers right now. And, if you survive, I'll get in the cage with you and finish...you...off!"

Punky looked at the Jumbotron. "You know what Bastion, with all the lies and deceits you pull, you got this one right. Now, if you came out here right now, I wouldn't even break out a sweat mopping the floor with you. But, I want to give the folks a good show, so why don't I let them tire me out a bit so you have a fair chance right here in...Memphis, Tennessee!"

The crowd went crazy. A line formed beside the ring, and by the time the King Cobra had put his mask back on and made the trip to the ring, he was eighth in line. Apocalypse Dowell stood beside him.

The first person in line paid his money, signed a waiver, and lasted twelve seconds in the ring with Punky-one minute and forty-eight seconds short of the two-minute requirement. Punky tossed him into the scorers' table and asked for the next contestant.

In quick succession, the next six contestants stood in the ring with Punky Stratton, and they all ended up on the scorers' table beside the ring. Watching the destruction, the King Cobra clenched his fists and gritted his teeth in preparation for the upcoming battle.

As the King Cobra began his ascent into the ring, the Jumbotron lit up again. This time Ninja Bob, Punky Stratton's archenemy, appeared on the screen.

Supposedly, Ninja Bob had been born in a small town in Indiana. During the summer of his fifth year, his family had driven to Disney World in Florida. On their third day there they lost little Bob in Epcot Center. A Japanese family found him and took him in as one of their own, bought him a fake passport, and took him back to Kyoto, Japan, where Ninja Bob had been taught the ninja arts until returning to America and joining the M.V.W.F. at the age of 22.

Recently, however, he had been back in Japan honing his ninja skills and his appearance on the screen came as a complete surprise to the crowd.

Ninja Bob smiled. "Kon ban wa, Panki Suturaton. Genki desuka, you lousy son of a bitch? Unless you cain't tell from seein' me here, I'm back in the U.S. I was back in my homeland for a year and a half, learning all of the secrets of the Far East..."

Punky grabbed a microphone from an assistant who wore a purple tuxedo. "Did you learn any ancient Chinese secrets? I got this stain I just can't get out."

"No, you dumbass. I's in Japan, not China. Anyway, I'm back, just to kick your ass!"

The crowd was silent.

"I don't care if you're a ninja, a samurai, or if you got electricity shootin' out your fingers and you wear a funny hat. Don't matter to me cause...there ain't nothin gonna hold me down."

The Jumbotron went black.

Punky threw the microphone down and watched as Ninja Bob ran down the main aisle, wearing a ninja outfit.

When Ninja Bob reached the ring and began to climb up, a hand grabbed his leg and pulled him back down.

"No, you don't," the King Cobra said through his camouflage hunting mask. "You're not going to ruin this for me."

The King Cobra then threw Ninja Bob to the floor. Ninja Bob got up quickly and tried to karate kick the King Cobra, who dropped to the floor, rolled under the announcers' table, and came out on the other side with an aluminum chair.

Ninja Bob managed to say, "That ain't one of the..." before he lost consciousness. The King Cobra threw the chair down on top of the collapsed Ninja Bob as security guards hovered around them.

Punky motioned for the King Cobra to step into the ring and then asked for another microphone.

Punky said, "What's your name?"

"I'm the King Cobra, and I strike..."

"Well, King Cobra, I'd like to thank you for taking care of my light work. I just want you to know you've always got a friend in Punky Stratton."

"Thanks, Punky." The King Cobra crumbled up his twenty dollar bill, threw it in Punky's face, and gave Punky the Big Boot to the side of the head. Punky dropped to the mat.

The crowd went ballistic. Fights broke out throughout the arena, and the people who had been waiting in line behind the King Cobra joined forces and attacked him.

As the King Cobra handled the first guy, a second approached from behind. He prepared to put the King Cobra in a headlock, but then fell to the mat after Apocalypse Dowell gave him a Seven Plagues Punch to the back.

The King Cobra and Apocalypse Dowell stood back to back and kicked the asses of all takers. People from the crowd swarmed in, trying to take shots at them, but they were too much for their untrained competitors.

Then the real wrestlers started stepping into the ring. Noticing this, the King Cobra told Apocalypse Dowell to grab the microphone. Apocalypse Dowell picked up the mic and tossed it to the King Cobra.

When the King Cobra cleared his throat into the microphone, the fighting across the arena stopped and the crowd went silent.

He said, "Hello Memphis, Tennessee. My name's the King Cobra, and I have lots of disposable income. Now, I heard on the radio and in this arena tonight that if I paid twenty dollars and lasted two minutes with Punky Stratton, I'd get one thousand dollars. Now, I respect Punky Stratton and all that he's done for wrestling and the M.V.W.F. But, I also respect money. I paid my twenty dollars, and I knocked Punky Stratton out. I think someone owes me a thousand dollars."

The crowd cheered, and some chanted, "Pay up! Pay up! Pay up!"

The Jumbotron lit up and Jake Bastion's face once again filled the screen. "Now, listen up you idiots!"

The crowd booed.

"I don't know who you are, King Cobra. And, I don't know who you think you are, coming into my wrestling match and attacking my wrestlers, but you're right. I had a deal, and I plan to hold up that deal, on one condition..."

The King Cobra held up his right hand and said, "Now let me tell you something, Jake Bastion. I didn't come all the way down here, to Memphis, Tennessee, to have you make promises and lie to me. What are you, a commie? That would explain the way you run your company. There'll be no conditions, because I earned that money fair and square. There's only one King Cobra."

The crowd went crazy, and signs appeared throughout the arena that read "King Cobra! King Cobra!" A quick fan who sat close to the ring held up a sign that read "The King Cobra: there's only one." The King Cobra pointed at him and smiled, then he ran around the ring pumping up the crowd as Apocalypse Dowell stood in the middle of the ring beside the unconscious Punky Stratton.

Jake Bastion said, "Say what you want, but I'm President and C.E.O. of M.V.W.F. and I make the rules." The camera panned out to show a black limousine behind Jake Bastion.

He held ten one hundred dollar bills up to the camera and said, "Here's your money, idiot. You can have it, but you'll have to come and get it." Jake Bastion then jumped into his limousine, followed by three bodyguards, and the limousine drove away.

The King Cobra and Apocalypse Dowell jumped out of the ring and ran up the main aisle. They cleared the main gate and ran into the dark parking lot where they saw the limousine. By the time they reached the middle of the lot, the limousine had sped out of sight.

A metallic rumble grew behind them, and then the sound of a horn shook their souls. They turned to see a purple semi-truck approaching them. When it stopped, the trucker put his head out the window and said, "Mercy sakes, that's some good timing, ain't it?"

The King Cobra and Apocalypse Dowell jumped in through the passenger door and the King Cobra said, "You up for a chase?"

Two narrow wrinkles appeared between the Witch Doctor's eyebrows and he asked, "Who we chasing?"

"Jake Bastion."

"Mercy sakes, that arrogant son of a bitch? Which way?"

The King Cobra said, "I think he turned right up there. He's in a limo."

The trucker stepped on the accelerator and made the right turn without hitting the brakes. They spotted the limousine far ahead of them, and watched as it made a left turn to hit the interstate.

Chapter 6

Tuesday 10:06pm (C.S.T.)

After the King Cobra had explained the situation, the Witch Doctor got on his CB.

"Breaker, breaker one nine, this here's the Witch Doctor outta that Chi-town on I-40 west, just past the state border. I'm looking for westbounders, over."

The CB remained silent for several seconds before the replies started coming in.

"Mercy sakes Witch Doctor, this is the Soul Rider, you gotta a westbounder, go ahead."

Ten replies came in over the next three minutes. As the King Cobra and Apocalypse Dowell tried to see the limousine through the windshield, the Witch Doctor got back on the air.

"Mercy sakes, boys, it's good to hear your voices. We got a bit of a situation with a runaway stretch job, if anyone has an eyeball come back."

The Witch Doctor easily weaved through the light traffic, but they still couldn't see the limousine.

"Mercy sakes, mercy sakes, make no mistake this here's the Fly Swatter and I got an eyeball on that stretch job, over."

The Witch Doctor picked up the receiver. "That's good news, that's good news. All westbounders, let's drop it on down to one-four."

The trucker reached over and changed the setting on his CB from "19" to "14."

"Breaker, breaker one four, this here's the Witch Doctor. The stretch job in question contains a one Jake Bastion, president and C.E.O. of the M.V.W.F. He has something that don't belong to him, and I'm looking to have an eyeball. Over."

Several truckers replied, simply saying, "Eyeball, check."

The Fly Swatter came on and said he would slow down the limousine. Two minutes later, the Witch Doctor and the boys had a visual.

The King Cobra pressed his face against the windshield. "There's that no good son of a bitch. Just pull up beside him and I'll jump out."

"Woo, boy, that'd be exciting to see, but there ain't gonna be no need in that. See, we're gonna stop the traffic on this here interstate."

The Witch Doctor picked up the receiver and said, "Breaker, breaker one-four. This here's the Witch Doctor, ready to go for eyeball. Mercy sakes, let's wait a minute, boys, I got a bit of a funny feeling. If there's static everyone take it up to one-six. Repeat, if we get static take it up to one six. Nice work so far Fly Swatter, how's the front door looking?"

"Clean and green to Abilene," the Fly Swatter replied.

A voice came on the CB. "Hello idiots."

"Identify yourself, breaker."

"I am Jake Bastion, the President and C.E.O. of M.V.W.F., and I suggest you all back off and go find some truck stop whores to diddle before you get yourselves in trouble. Over, idiots."

By this time, trucks surrounded the limousine on all sides and blocked all traffic from passing. The Fly Swatter, who was in front of the limousine, slowed down gradually.

"Mercy sakes, boys, Jake Bastion's got his ears on. The mouth you got on you, Bastion," the Witch Doctor said. "We'll be happy to let you be, once a matter of green is settled. You owe..."

The trucker leaned over to the King Cobra and said, "Damn it, what's your name, now?" The King Cobra told him.

"You owe the King Cobra a thousand green, and we aim to get it."

Jake Bastion replied, "I don't owe him a thing. The agreement was to last two minutes in the ring with Punky Stratton, and he didn't last two minutes now, did he? They were only in the ring together a few seconds, and that isn't good for business."

The CB went silent. The Witch Doctor tried to reply, but couldn't.

"Something wrong with the CB?" Apocalypse Dowell asked.

"No, son, he's keyin' the mic. See, he's just holding down the button on his mic, and that stops us from being able to talk on the channel. I'm taking her up to one-six."

On channel sixteen, the Witch Doctor made contact with all of the truckers and coordinated the stop. Minutes later, the ten trucks surrounding the limousine came to a complete stop, blocking all westbound traffic.

The Witch Doctor, the King Cobra, and Apocalypse Dowell stepped out of the truck and approached the stopped limousine. Several of the other truckers walked up and introduced themselves. Others went to the back of the roadblock to help the truckers there put up flares and keep the stopped drivers under control.

The King Cobra walked up to the limousine and tried to open one of the back doors. Finding it locked, he tried all of the other doors. They were all locked, too. The dark windows kept him from seeing Jake Bastion, so he walked to the front and tapped on the driver's side window.

The driver looked straight forward, with a look of despair on his face. He kept the engine running.

The King Cobra pounded on the glass; the driver turned to look at him and yelled: "Go away!" through the glass. The King Cobra walked back to the others.

The Witch Doctor said, "What do you think?"

"Well, it looks like they don't want any visitors," the King Cobra replied. "I could break the window, but I'm afraid ol' Jake Bastion might have a gun in there, and I don't want anyone to get shot."

The other truckers stood by. As they were discussing different plans, one of the truckers who had been putting up flares in the back ran up to them. It took him several seconds to catch his breath before speaking.

"They's a bear back there, and he looks pissed. We stopped him, but we don't know how long we can hold him back."

The Witch Doctor looked at the King Cobra and asked, "What do you think?"

The King Cobra replied, "I really appreciate what you've all done for me, but I don't want you guys to go to jail. Let him come on up here, and I'll take the blame for this. You guys know the bear well enough to know that once one of them knows, they all know."

The truckers nodded in agreement. Apocalypse Dowell, surprised by the King Cobra's logic and willingness to take the fall, didn't say anything.

Two minutes later, the police officer approached with his gun drawn.

The Fly Swatter said, "Howdy there, bear."

"What's going on here?" the police officer, a state trooper according to his badge and uniform, asked.

"Mercy sakes, bear, we ain't got no pieces, so you can put yours down. We ain't going nowhere," the Witch Doctor said.

The trooper eyed the assortment of truckers and then focused on the King Cobra.

"Who the hell are you?" the trooper asked the King Cobra.

"Good evening, officer. I am the King Cobra and I take all the blame here. You see, Jake Bastion is in this limousine and he..."

"Jake Bastion?" the trooper interrupted. "That bastard's in this limousine?"

"Yes, sir. See, tonight I wrestled Punky Stratton and won and Jake Bastion's supposed to pay me a thousand dollars."

"You whipped Punky Stratton?" the trooper asked. His round face showed disbelief, and then a rush of excitement came over him. "You whipped Punky Stratton? So, you're the one. Hell, the boys at dispatch told me all about it, but I didn't believe it, cause ain't nothin gonna hold Punky down. I think Punky's the best they's ever been, but if you whipped him fair and square, I gotta give you respect. Let's see what ol' Jake Bastion has to say."

The trooper walked up to the limousine, knocked on the driver's side door, and asked the driver to step out of the vehicle. The driver reluctantly obeyed and walked to the front of the limousine, where he stood in the headlights with his hands in his pockets.

The trooper then walked to the back of the limousine and knocked on a tinted window. The door opened. Jake Bastion jumped out of the vehicle and stood beside the trooper, glaring at the crowd of truckers behind his limousine. Three body guards, who all had bad goatees, followed him out of the limousine. The officer told them to stand beside the driver in front of the limo. After a quick hand gesture from Jake Bastion, they obeyed.

Jake Bastion looked at the truckers, smiled, and said, "Hello, idiots."

The trooper said, "You're not safe yet, Bastion. I wouldn't be quite so bold if I was you."

Jake Bastion said, "Officer, I demand you arrest these men. They chased me and, hell, they've stopped traffic here on the interstate. It's probably backed all the way up to Nashville."

The trooper said, "None of them's getting arrested, but if you don't bite your tongue, you might."

"Now listen," Jake Bastion said. "I'm a tax-paying citizen"

"Not in this state, you aren't," the trooper interrupted. "You're from Texas, and there ain't no state tax there. All you gotta do is pay the thousand dollars you owe to this gentleman here and you can be on your way."

Jake Bastion turned to look at the King Cobra and eyed his costume before saying, "Look, what you did tonight was impressive. You've got talent, and I'm always looking for new talent. I was going to have my people contact you about a contract, so why don't we forget that little matter of a thousand dollars and think about bigger fish in the pot."

"Let me tell you something, Jake Bastion," the King Cobra replied. "I didn't come all the way down here, to...an interstate in Arkansas...to have you lie to me and take my money. The King Cobra works for no man. The King Cobra's an enigma, a mist, a passing thought, and a blown opportunity. The King Cobra says, Give me that money, or we'll go a few rounds here on the interstate and the road don't bounce like the mat does. And you know what else, Jake Bastion? There's only one King Cobra."

They all stared at Jake Bastion, waiting for his decision. Jake looked around for sympathy, finding none. Jake reached into the pocket in the lining of his jacket, produced several hundred dollar bills, and counted out one thousand dollars.

Jake handed the money over to the King Cobra and said, "This ain't over, King Cobra."

The King Cobra replied, "There's only one King Cobra, and that's me."

The trooper allowed Jake's driver and bodyguards to return to the limousine. After the Fly Swatter had moved his truck, Jake Bastion's limousine sped off.

The King Cobra turned to the truckers and the state trooper and said, "Dinner's on me."

Apocalypse Dowell grabbed the King Cobra by the shoulder and said, "Damn it, Aloha. You're going to spend all of that money tonight. It needs to last all the way across the country."

"Damn you, Dowell. It's King Cobra, and if it wasn't for these truckers, I wouldn't have any money. I think I can buy a few hamburgers, you goddam bitch."

They piled back into the Witch Doctor's truck and arrived twenty minutes later at the Bird Whistle Diner.

In four minutes, the diner went from 15% capacity to 100%. Truckers filled every corner of the place, some standing at the counter and others just wandering around, talking to old friends and making new ones. The King Cobra had taken off his hunting mask and put on his Hawaiian shirt in the truck. He was Mick Aloha again. He took a seat with the Witch Doctor and Apocalypse Dowell.

A waitress approached and said, "Evenin', gentlemen. How ya'll doin' tonight?"

"We're doing very well, thank you very much," Mick Aloha replied. "I am Mick Aloha, and I am paying for all of these truckers tonight. So, whatever they want they can have. Just put it on my bill, because I have lots of disposable income."

"Fair enough, let me go tell the manager," the waitress said.

When the waitress returned, Mick Aloha motioned toward Apocalypse Dowell. "This jackass would like a celery stick and a banana."

"No I wouldn't, you jackass." Apocalypse Dowell looked up at the waitress. "I'd like the cheddar omelet with fries and white toast. Oh, and coffee, too, please."

"Dowell, don't you know eggs come from chickens? You're a hypocrite."

"No, I'm not. You don't have to kill chickens to get their eggs. And, they lay eggs anyway, so they'd just go to waste."

Mick Aloha ignored the explanation and asked the Witch Doctor to order. When the Witch Doctor had finished, Mick Aloha looked up at the waitress and said, "I'd like your super burger, the really big one. But, I don't want anything on it, just meat and the bun. And, does that come with fries?"

"Sure does."

"Well, I'd like those fries and two more orders of fries." Mick Aloha rubbed his hands together slightly. "Then, I'd like you to bring me an extra order of fries every thirty minutes for the next two hours. Then, one an hour until we leave."

The waitress gave him a strange look before thanking them for their orders.

Mick Aloha walked among the truckers with a Coke in his hand--he hated coffee--sharing stories of his past adventures. Apocalypse Dowell, who preferred machines to social interaction, played an old video game in the corner of the dining area.

Two hours later, the truckers started to move toward the door. Mick Aloha stopped at the front counter and paid the bill, which totaled $256.40. He walked back to his table, dropped fifty dollars beside his empty plate, and walked out the door as the truckers thanked him.

When they were outside, Apocalypse Dowell walked up and said, "Thanks, Aloha."

Mick Aloha checked the receipt as he walked. "You owe me five dollars and seventy-eight cents, Dowell."

As they walked to the truck, the Witch Doctor looked at the boys and said, "Well, some of these boys will be with us for a while."

Apocalypse Dowell started to speak, but Mick Aloha interrupted, "Damn it, Dowell. I want to say it."

Mick Aloha then looked at the Witch Doctor and asked, "So, we got us a great big convoy?"

"Mercy sakes, that's right. We're gonna get the front door."

Back inside the truck, Mick Aloha gave the Witch Doctor the one hundred dollars he had promised.

The excitement of having the front door soon wore off, and by midnight both Mick Aloha and Apocalypse Dowell had fallen asleep on the floor. Vibrations running up the truck and into the floor shook them wildly, but they were so tired it didn't stop them from sleeping.

Chapter 7

Wednesday 2:51am (C.S.T.)

Apocalypse Dowell awoke. Someone was shaking him.

"Wake up, you lazy bastard," Mick Aloha whispered.

Apocalypse Dowell sat up and looked around. The vibrations were gone; the truck wasn't moving.

"Why'd we stop?"

"Truckers gotta sleep too, Dowell," Mick Aloha replied, motioning toward the Witch Doctor, who was asleep in the driver's seat, leaning against the window.

"The whole convoy's stopped, Dowell. They're all asleep."

Apocalypse Dowell looked out the window and saw all of the trucks lined up behind them in the emergency lane between the on and off ramps of a rest area. As cars and other trucks passed on the interstate, the truck swayed slightly.

"Wow, I didn't know they all slept at the same time, Aloha."

"Yeah dude, when I woke up I thought maybe the cops had us."

"Why would the cops be after us, Aloha?"

"No reason, Dowell. You worry too much. Anyway, dude, I need to take a piss and I was afraid the whole convoy would up and go before I got back, and then I'd be stuck at a goddam rest area in the middle of the goddam night, with nothing but six hundred dollars to my damn name. So, can I trust you to make sure they don't leave without me?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks dude. You want some snacks? I think they have some machines up there."

"Yeah, if you could get me..."

"I'll just get one of everything, dude. Disposable income."

Mick Aloha quietly made his way out of the truck. Fighting to keep his eyes open, Apocalypse Dowell watched Mick Aloha walk to the rest area. Apocalypse Dowell then lay back down and rested his eyes.

Sunlight reflected off the side view mirrors and into Apocalypse Dowell's eyes, waking him. He felt the familiar vibration of the truck and sat up. The Witch Doctor was sitting behind the wheel with a smile on his face, quietly talking away on his CB. Mick Aloha wasn't there.

The Witch Doctor looked over and said, "Good morning. Where'd your friend go?"

Apocalypse Dowell's mind couldn't process the question so he asked, "What time is it?"

"Oh, going on round ten I reckon. Where's what's his name, the wrestler?"

"He's going to kill me. We left him at that rest area. He woke up and asked me to stop you from leaving until he came back."

"Woo, mercy sakes, he's gonna be on fire. I'd watch out if I was you, that guy's got some fight in him, now."

"How far away are we from the rest area?"

"Well, let's see. We left right after three. Hmmm. Seven hours times seventy miles per hour. Ummm. I guess were going on five hunnerd miles."

Apocalypse Dowell convinced himself there was nothing he could do and went back to sleep.

Mick Aloha judged the selection in the rest area's vending machines barely acceptable, almost criminal. He decided that instead of buying one of everything he would buy two, just in case Apocalypse Dowell wanted something he wanted as well. The change he put into the machine covered only a quarter of the snacks, so he went to his wallet for the bills. The machine refused the first dollar bill, and although he had twenty other one dollar bills in his wallet, he was determined to use the first bill.

When the machine refused the bill for the eighth time, Mick Aloha said, "You goddam machine, I hate you. I hate all machines, but especially vending machines and goddam robots."

He started kicking the machine, and on the fourth kick he heard a disturbing sound. Mick Aloha looked toward the interstate. He saw the lights of all of the trucks come on and heard the engines firing up. He kicked the machine again.

It's okay, he thought. Dowell knows to tell them to wait for me, and goddam it, this machine's going to take this goddam bill. I have time.

He tried the bill a ninth time; the machine refused it again. The plastic casing on the front of the machine started to loosen when he kicked it again. Mick Aloha decided to just use a twenty. Bags of potato chips, candy bars, and chewing gum fell to the bottom of the machine as he pushed the buttons. When he pushed B7, he heard the trucks moving.

Mick Aloha ran out of the lighted vending area and into the darkness of the trees and grass surrounding the rest area. He crossed the sidewalk and ran past the only car in the rest area's lot, a small black Volkswagen with a surfboard strapped to the top. He then sprinted down the off ramp, hoping to cut off one of the trucks. Although he pumped his arms and breathed correctly, by the time he reached the interstate the last truck of the convoy was speeding away from him, well out of earshot.

He stood in the emergency lane as cars passed him, screaming obscenities and cursing Apocalypse Dowell. Mick Aloha stopped screaming, breathed deeply, and swore to have his revenge.

"At least I have my money," he thought. "I have enough money to get to California to save my girlfriend, and then I'm sure she can get me back home. Hell, maybe she'll want to move back with me."

He walked back past the Volkswagen and up the path to the vending area. When he arrived back at the machine, a giant man sat on a concrete ledge by one of the machines, eating Mick Aloha's snacks.

The man, who had short blond hair and bright blue eyes, wore flip-flops, a pair of cutoff shorts, and a t-shirt that read, "New York: I'm O.K. with it." He concentrated on a snack cake, licked the cream filling from his left index finger and thumb, and then looked up at Mick Aloha.

The man said, "Like, you won't believe it. Free snacks. Like, go ahead and help yourself."

Mick Aloha was preparing to unleash his fury on the blond stranger when the stranger spoke again.

"Like, why were you yelling down there? I could hear you all the way up here."

"I lost my ride, that's why I was yelling. I was riding in a truck with a real truck driver in a goddam convoy, and he left me because my arch enemy didn't tell him to wait for me. That's why I was yelling. Now, why in the hell are you eating my goddam snacks?"

"Spsshhh, I didn't know they were yours. Shouldn't have left them laying around."

"I just ran to catch those goddam trucks and then I came back."

"Spshhh. Like, I can't, like, bring those tasty treats back. I can't change the past, man."

Mick Aloha sat beside the stranger and opened one of the bags of potato chips. He offered the stranger another bag of chips, which the stranger accepted.

The stranger removed a chip from the bag, held it up in front of his face, and put it in his mouth. "I goddam love chips, man. Love em. You know, I think potatoes might be the best thing on earth if they're done right."

"Me too, dude. Potato chips. French fries. Baked potatoes. Goddam it, the list goes to goddam infinity, dude. My name is Mick Aloha, as you might have guessed from my Hawaiian shirt. What's your name, dude?"

"Oh, like, people just call me The Kid."

"Nice to meet you, The Kid." They shook hands and Mick Aloha walked up to the machine and tried the bill again. The machine rejected it for the tenth time.

The Kid said, "You're doing it wrong." He stood up, took the bill from Mick Aloha, and straightened it against one of the front corners of the machine. He then inserted it into the machine, smiled, and sat back down.

Mick Aloha shook his head. "Damn it, The Kid. I loosened it up for you."

Over the next few hours, the kid inserted all of Mick Aloha's small bills into the machine, and they ate every piece of junk food that came out of it. As they ate, the traffic on the interstate increased and sunlight started creeping over the horizon.

Chapter 8

Wednesday 11:19am (C.S.T.)

With Mick Aloha gone, Apocalypse Dowell felt uneasy with the trucker. Mick Aloha had provided a buffer between Apocalypse Dowell and the Witch Doctor; without that buffer, he worried that the trucker would tire of him and drop him off at the next exit.

Apocalypse Dowell sat on the floor with his legs crossed, trying to stretch up to see over the dashboard. The sun shone directly overhead as the Witch Doctor continued pushing the convoy west.

Apocalypse Dowell looked over at the Witch Doctor and asked, "What state are we in now?"

"Oklahoma, the sooner state. Mercy sakes, boy, we're making us some good time." The Witch Doctor gave Apocalypse Dowell a nod.

"Hey, you never told me about Graceland. How'd that go?" Apocalypse Dowell asked.

"Mercy sakes, son. I was saving that story for a big crowd, cause it's a whopper. But, hell, might as well go ahead and fill you in on it now. See, after I dropped you boys off, I cruised on over there and stopped to grab me a bite at the Heartbreak Hotel."

"That's a real place?"

"Is now, son. Anyway, so I headed on over to Graceland and took me the tour like I always do, and there was these two girls on the tour with me. Mercy sakes, if they wasn't a couple of angels, not like them girls up in Sonora at all. Well, son, you shoulda seen em, one was blond and the other was brunette, bit of a variety pack, like the cereal, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I love cereal."

"Me, too," the Witch Doctor said. "Anyway, we got to the King's grave, and them girls just started bawling their eyes out. I walked up between them real smooth like and put my arms around 'em, and mercy sakes if they didn't lean into me and start crying. I tried to calm 'em down, but they was a mess. Then, I asked 'em what I could do to make 'em feel better, and they kinda looked at each other and smiled."

"What were they wearing?"

Two narrow lines formed on the Witch Doctor's forehead. "Ol' Mick Aloha was right, you do ask a lot of questions. Well, the brunette was wearing all black, I guess maybe she's still mourning for the King and all. Anyway, she had on this short black skirt, black stockings, black shoes, and a tight black shirt. Hellfire, she sure made the color look good. And the other, she was wearing a silver colored, silky little dress with pictures of bugs all over it. Anyway, the blond one leaned over and whispered that they had a room at the Heartbreak Hotel and she and her friend wouldn't mind some company."

The Witch Doctor eased off the accelerator and picked up his CB. Apocalypse Dowell sat up and saw an Oklahoma State Trooper parked in the median ahead.

"Breaker, breaker one nine, this is the Witch Doctor outta that Chi-town, letting you know we got a bear on westbound forty, and mercy sakes it looks like he's taking pictures. Take 'er down a notch, over."

"Anyway, son, where was I? Oh, I was almost to the best part, now. Them girls took me over to the Heartbreak Hotel, and we went up to their room. They had a nice one, boy. Really fancy inside with a heart-shaped bed and twenty four hour Elvis movies, mercy sakes. Blue Hawaii was on when we turned on the tube. Anyway, the brunette, she was the frisky one, she turned off the TV and lay herself down on the bed. The other one, she'd been laying on the other bed, jumps into the same bed with her. See, they had them twin beds, son. Anyway boy, mercy sakes, them girls took each other's clothes off right there on the bed and they just lay there, naked as the day they was born, waiting for the Witch Doctor's fine lovin'..."

Apocalypse Dowell couldn't take any more. "I really want to believe this, but it's not true, is it?"

"No sir, sure ain't. But, I had you goin' there, didn't I? See, they was two girls there last night that fit that description, but by the time I made the tour and paid my respects, I had to put four on the floor and get over to the arena to pick you and your friend up."

The Witch Doctor rolled down his window, allowing the fresh air to fill the cab, and looked down at the traffic through the open window.

"Mercy sakes alive, got me a live one here, boy. These girls, they can be stuck up, but they don't mind showing a little something to a lonely trucker once in a while."

"What is it?"

"Well, son, I can see down this girl's shirt, and the seeing is good, if you know what I mean. I'd let you have a look, but you'd have to crawl over me to see and I don't think I know you well enough to let you do that, now do I? But hell, take this thing and have you a look out the other window."

The Witch Doctor reached under his seat and removed a small folding stool, which he handed to Apocalypse Dowell.

Apocalypse Dowell sat next to the window looking down into the cars they passed.

Chapter 9

Wednesday 8:31am (C.S.T.)

"I think he's dead," the five-year-old boy said as he looked down at Mick Aloha and then up at his mother. "And that one, too."

"No dear, they're not dead," his mother said. "They're just sleepy." She stepped over Mick Aloha, inserted some change into the vending machine, pushed B4, and retrieved the snack. Her son put his tiny right foot on Mick Aloha's face.

Before the mother noticed what her son was doing, Mick Aloha said, "Goddam it, you little bastard. What the hell are you doing?" He strained his eyes against the sunlight.

"I thought you were dead," the boy said. "Are you a homosexual?"

"Goddam you, kid. I love the ladies. Now get your goddam foot off my goddam chest."

The mother gave Mick Aloha an evil look, grabbed her son's arm, and they walked away.

"I can't be killed," Mick Aloha called after them. "I'm goddam immortal, like the Highlander."

The Kid, who was lying on the concrete floor ten feet away from Mick Aloha in the rest area vending area, awoke and said, "Like, what the hell are you saying now?"

"Shut up, The Kid. My goddam stomach hurts."

"You shouldn't have eaten so many snacks. You're going to kill yourself eating like that."

"Goddamit! You ate most of them, you freeloading bastard. You're worse than Apocalypse Dowell."

Mick Aloha pulled himself up onto the concrete ledge beside the machines. The Kid sat up on the concrete floor, rubbing his face with his giant hands. The Kid then stood up, stretched his arms, and started walking to his car.

Mick Aloha said, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

The Kid stopped and turned around. "Like what?"

"I don't know, like goodbye."

The Kid said, "Psshhhhh," and continued walking to his car. Feeling an opportunity pass, Mick Aloha jumped up and ran after him.

"Where you taking off to so fast there, The Kid?"

"Like, I'm going to California. I'm going to be in a surfing contest down near Mavericks on Saturday and I still have half of the continent to clear. Goddam Graceland slowed me down, man, and those snacks didn't help. So, I have to be moving along, man."

"Today is your lucky day, The Kid. I happen to be in need of a ride to California and I, Mick Aloha, happen to have gas money. And, I'll buy your meals on the way, too, if you don't ask me to drive. I always get in trouble when I drive."

"Sppshhhh, you have a deal," The Kid said. "I don't trust other people's driving, anyway."

Mick Aloha stood beside the passenger door of the black Volkswagen, waiting for The Kid to unlock it. The Kid sat in the car, not looking at him. When Mick Aloha was sure The Kid was going to leave him, The Kid reached over and unlocked the door.

The surfboard on the top of The Kid's car rested on a removable rack. Straps, which passed through the windows and the interior of the car, kept the rack in place. When Mick Aloha sat in the car, the front strap dangled in his face.

"Goddam it, what the hell is this?" he asked, as he reached down to adjust the seat. The excess strap slapped him in the face as The Kid punched the accelerator.

"That's the strap, man," the Kid said. "Keeps the ol' board in place."

Mick Aloha sighed and adjusted his seat so that the strap couldn't touch him. He looked over at The Kid, who drove with his right arm on the wheel and his left out the window, and said, "Well, The Kid. We got a long way to go. Might as well tell you my life story. I started from modest beginnings..."

Mick Aloha told his life story for the next three hours. By the time Mick Aloha said: "And, that's my story," they were both hungry and the Volkswagen needed gas.

They stopped at a diner and ate hamburgers.

Back on the road, Mick Aloha said, "Well dude, you know everything about me, even my expert running skills, so I think it's time to tell me something about yourself. First, what were you doing at that rest area last night?"

The Kid said, "Psshhh, resting."

"Where'd you start from?"

"Well, I like live in California, now, but I'm from Kentucky, like you. Anyway, I drove out to Kentucky to see my family and to meet some of my friends. Like, we planned this whole cross country trip where we would get all close and whatnot since we haven't seen each other since I moved to California. They're two chicks, by the way. So, like, we started in Kentucky, and of course they wanted to stop at Graceland. Goddam, they love Elvis."

"You were traveling with two girls, dude? Are they hot?

"Sphssshhhh, they're my friends, like I don't know if they're hot."

"That's nice," Mick Aloha said. "Are they hot?"

"Yeah, they're really fucking hot, man," the Kid said. "Anyway, we stopped at Graceland and there was nowhere to park. So, I dropped them off and like went looking for a parking space. There weren't any parking spaces."

Mick Aloha reached up to wrap the loose strap back up again and asked, "So, what did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there were no spaces, so what did you do?"

"I left," the Kid said. "I told you there weren't any spaces. I got on the interstate, drove for a few hours, decided to rest at the rest area, and then I met you, man."

"Won't they be pissed?"

The Kid said, "I didn't really think about it. I guess they might be."

Chapter 10

Wednesday 3:14pm (C.S.T.)

The convoy got smaller as it pushed west through Oklahoma. When they reached Oklahoma City, the home of the Cowboy Hall of Fame, their number had dropped to four. The convoy had stopped a couple of times to refuel and to eat, and each time Apocalypse Dowell had felt safer and more certain that they weren't planning to leave him.

They stopped at an old warehouse a mile from the interstate in the early afternoon to drop off the cargo and pick up more, leaving the rest of the convoy to push on across the continent. As the payload was being removed, the Witch Doctor convinced Apocalypse Dowell to see the Cowboy Hall of Fame. Apocalypse Dowell didn't want to go, but he thought if he let the Witch Doctor out of his sight, he might never see him again.

They took a cab from the warehouse to the Hall of Fame. The cab driver smiled when the Witch Doctor told him their destination and talked about the history of the Cowboy Hall of Fame as he drove.

The Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City contains dark secrets and incredible mysteries, the details of which will not be disclosed here.

Three hours later, the Witch Doctor and Apocalypse Dowell exited the Cowboy Hall of Fame, each wearing a new cowboy hat.

"Thanks again for the hat," Apocalypse Dowell said, as he adjusted it to almost cover his eyes.

"Mercy sakes, don't think nothing of it," the Witch Doctor said. "It suits you. You know, you might be a cowboy, yet. Say, yee haw for me."

"Huh?"

"Say it, son," the Witch Doctor said. "You got it in you."

"Yee-haw."

"Mercy sakes, that's what I'm talking about, son."

Apocalypse Dowell and the Witch Doctor caught another cab, this one with a driver who didn't talk the whole time, and went back to check on the truck. The truck was ready, so the Witch Doctor and Apocalypse Dowell headed to the interstate in the early evening.

"Mercy sakes, son, you tired?" the Witch Doctor asked, after they had merged onto the interstate.

"Yeah, I am. Not that I don't appreciate it, but riding on the stool and sleeping on the floor here isn't the most comfortable thing I've ever done."

"Well, mercy sakes, I'm beat and you may have noticed I don't smell too good, neither. Why don't we stop off at a motel and get some shut eye. If we don't, I might fall asleep at the wheel."

Apocalypse Dowell wanted to take a shower and relax in a motel, but he had only known the Witch Doctor for two days and didn't think he would feel comfortable sleeping in the same room with him. Then, he thought that sleeping in the truck was the same as sleeping in the same room, except it was less comfortable.

"That sounds good," Apocalypse Dowell replied.

They stopped at a cheap motel and got a room with twin beds. The Witch Doctor paid, since Apocalypse Dowell had no money, and Apocalypse Dowell promised to pay him back. As the Witch Doctor settled into the room, Apocalypse Dowell used a payphone in the lobby to call his credit card companies, hoping to get a new card. They said they could deliver him a card, but it would take two days. He gave them a San Francisco address and hung up.

They watched television and decided to go to bed early. When they turned out the lights, a black Volkswagen passed them on the interstate outside their hotel.

Chapter 11

Wednesday 2:47pm (C.S.T.)

As Mick Aloha and The Kid sped through Oklahoma, Mick Aloha's frustration with the locals increased.

"Goddam it, I hate these people. I hate everyone from Oklahoma."

The Kid said, "My grandma's from Oklahoma."

Mick Aloha cringed and said, "Yeah, but I don't hate your grandma."

"Sppshhhhh, you wouldn't hate her if you met her," the Kid said. "She makes the best goddam pudding on earth. Like, I've had pudding from all the best places in San Francisco, and like, their pudding doesn't come close to my grandma's pudding."

"Where's she live, dude?"

"Right on the Oklahoma and Texas border. I'm hoping to make it there tonight, so we can have some decent food."

Mick Aloha wanted to keep moving west, but a home-cooked meal sounded good. "She won't mind if I join you?"

"Like, she's really fucking nice, so if I came with a hundred people she wouldn't care."

The conversation died and The Kid pushed down harder on the accelerator. The Kid drove fast. Mick Aloha liked that.

They passed a pick-up truck with five cowboys in the back and three in the cab. The cowboys somehow managed to keep their cowboy hats on as they cruised down the interstate. Once they had passed the cowboys, the cowboys started yelling at them and shaking their fists at them. Some of them gave the finger.

"Spshhh, what's their problem?" The Kid asked.

"Oh, sorry about that, dude. I gave them the finger. You know, the middle one."

"Why'd you do that?"

"I don't like cowboys."

"You're from Kentucky."

"See, dude, Kentucky has country people, not cowboys. I like country people. They're humble and friendly. Cowboys are arrogant bastards, and they smell bad. So, I thought I'd let them know what I think."

"You know cowboys carry guns, right? And, that there are eight of them and two of us?"

"That's okay, dude. See, I count for at least five people, maybe six. And, I'm sure you can take a couple of them."

"I don't really want to take any of them."

"Oh, I didn't think about that, dude," Mick Aloha said. "You don't like kicking ass? You some kind of wussy?"

"No, I'm not some kind of wuss, but I don't like to fight if I don't have to."

"Sorry about that, dude," Mick Aloha said. "Didn't know you were a wuss. See I, Mick Aloha, like to kick ass all the time. I'm an ass-kicking machine, except machines wear out and require oil, which I don't. Just fries."

The truck of cowboys stayed beside them on the interstate as the cowboys yelled cowboy obscenities at them. Mick Aloha rolled down his window and put half his body through it, so he could lean over the top of the car and yell at the cowboys who were in the passing lane.

"Hey, you goddam cowboys. You like cows? Let me tell you something, you're messing with the wrong people, here. I am Mick Aloha, a superhero and wrestler, and I don't appreciate the language you're using. So, I suggest you take it down a notch or two and shut the hell up and move along, before my wrath is felt. There's only one!"

More cowboy obscenities followed. They searched around the bed of their truck and started throwing any loose items they found at The Kid's car.

"Goddam it, Aloha. They're bombing my goddam car because of you. Do something, man."

Mick Aloha got back in the car and said, "Hey dude, there's a rest area up here. Let's pull in there and I'll take care of these fools. I wouldn't mind getting me a Coke, anyway."

They signaled that they were pulling into the rest area and the cowboys followed. The Kid parked his car in the half-full lot and locked it as he and Mick Aloha exited.

The group of cowboys jumped off the back of the truck and three more exited the cab. Altogether, eight cowboys stood before them, adjusting their Stetsons and tugging on the belt loops of their jeans. They wore no shirts. It looked like they had washed their jeans with mud. The cowboy with the dirtiest jeans stepped forward.

Mick Aloha left The Kid beside his car and walked up to the cowboys. The Kid leaned against his driver's side door, with his hands in his pockets and a slight grin on his face.

"You gotta problem, buddy?" the cowboy leader asked, adjusting his hat again and glaring at Mick Aloha.

Mick Aloha lowered his eyebrows, stuck out his lower jaw, and said, "Yeah, I have a number of problems, ass. Hmmm, let's see. First, I live by this inconsiderate jackass who sleeps all day and burned down my apartment. And, my goddam girlfriend, who this guy I mentioned likes and thinks is his girlfriend, is being held captive in San Francisco and I'm on my way to rescue her. While on my way there, the ass I keep mentioning caused me to lose my ride and I had to hitch with The Kid here, who's a nice guy by the way and a pleasure to talk to. Hmmm, let's see. Problems. I hate goddam robots. So, I guess I have a problem with robots. I hate goddam hippies and terrorists and tree huggers and especially vegetarians. Oh, and I hate goddam cowboys because they try to live in the past but the past is over. We live in a modern age, and cowboys aren't needed anymore. So, which of you wants to go first? How about this, I'll go light on the first one just to get warmed up."

The Kid started laughing. Mick Aloha and all of the cowboys looked over at The Kid, who continued to laugh without noticing them.

"Damn it, The Kid," Mick Aloha said. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because they're short, man. Look at them. They're the tiniest goddam cowboys I've ever seen. There's two of us and eight of them, but they're so tiny, like it wouldn't be a fair fight. So, I'm laughing because I can't wait to see you fight those little cowboys. Should be good."

"Hey, give us our props," the cowboy leader said. "We may be a little short, but we're scrappy as hell. When we get in fights, which happens quite a bit because of our size and irritability, we work together to whoop us up some ass. Like one of them transformers what comes from five different ones, when they come together their power is greater than the sum...of something."

Mick Aloha's eyebrows lowered even further so that his eyes were almost shut. He began to take quick breaths and said, "Props? What the hell kind of cowboys are you? And you said you were a little short? How many of you are over five feet?"

The leader raised his hand; the rest stood in silence.

"Well I, Mick Aloha, am a solid five-nine. And my partner, The Kid, is over six goddam feet tall."

"It ain't the size of the ship," the cowboy leader said as he punched Mick Aloha in the stomach and knocked him to the ground. Most of Mick Aloha's blood rushed to his face, and when he stood up he looked like a stop sign. Mick Aloha and the cowboy leader started swinging; Mick Aloha gave him the Big Boot. When the cowboy leader hit the deck, the seven remaining cowboys all jumped on Mick Aloha at once.

The Kid, whose hands remained in his pockets, said, "You need any help?"

Mick Aloha spun like a centrifuge as he kicked and punched. The cowboys got some good punches in. Mick Aloha felt the pain building in his stomach.

He replied, "Hell no, dude. Sorry to keep you waiting. Could you go get some Cokes? I'll pay you back in the car." The Kid walked to the vending machines as Mick Aloha and the seven remaining cowboys continued pounding away at each other.

When The Kid returned, three tiny cowboys remained standing. Mick Aloha held one in a headlock and kicked at another. The third clung to Mick Aloha's back, punching the back of his neck. A small crowd of travelers stood around them.

Mick Aloha looked up to see The Kid waiting by his car and said, "Oh, sorry dude. I'll be with you in a minute."

Mick Aloha then released his grip on the cowboy in the headlock, threw off the other, and crouched down on the ground. He then jumped up and screamed: "Throat punch!" Mick Aloha then punched the three cowboys in their throats and knocked them to the ground. He slapped his hands together a few times as if they were covered with dust, looked around at his fallen enemies, and jumped in The Kid's car.

The Kid looked over at him after they had merged onto the interstate and said, "Like, I cant believe you went for the goddam throat punch."

"Well, dude, it was time to go and they weren't going to give up. Sometimes, Kid, you have to go for the throat punch. It's a finisher."

"You think the cops will be after us?"

"No, I don't think anyone got a look at your plates, and if the cops try to pull over every westbound black Volkswagen, they won't have time to do anything else. And, we can just tell them it wasn't us, anyway.

"Pssshhhh, like, your face is all swollen and your shirt is ripped. I think they might figure it out if they stop us."

"I fell. I'll tell them I fell," Mick Aloha said. "Ask me what happened."

"What happened?"

"I fell."

The Kid said, "That's pretty good."

Mick Aloha adjusted his seat and used the mirror on the sun visor to look at his face. There was no blood; he was lucky.

Mick Aloha looked around the car and said, "I like this car, The Kid."

"Thanks, man. Like, I only owe nine hundred and fifty eight dollars on it. The monthly payment's two hundred and fifteen, but I usually pay three hundred, just because once I get this thing paid off, I'll just have to pay Visa and then I'll be out of debt."

The sun dropped below the horizon and they eventually passed the hotel where the trucker and Apocalypse Dowell were just going to bed.

Chapter 12

Tuesday 9:45pm (C.S.T.)

Priscilla ran her hands down the sides of her black skirt. She took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly through her pursed lips. As she exhaled, her eyes ran across the width of the parking lot. He was gone.

Bugaboo sat beside her, not bothering to look at the lot. She had pictures of bugs on her dress; Priscilla hated that. Bugaboo removed a cigarette from her grey purse, lit it, and took a drag.

Priscilla looked over at her. "He really isn't coming, is he?"

"What do you think?" Bugaboo took another drag. "He's The Kid. That's what he does."

Earlier in the evening, when The Kid had dropped them off so he could find a parking space, Priscilla and Bugaboo had walked up to Graceland and bought three tickets for the tour. They had then waited an hour, and finally went inside and took the tour without him, assuming The Kid had gone off to eat or shoot pool and that he would return for them later. They had talked about how he would probably say: "Like, you knew I was hungry. What did you think I was going to do? Go on the tour without eating? Spshhhhh." They had hoped to see him in the parking lot. He wasn't there.

Half-way through her cigarette, Bugaboo stood and they started walking. Priscilla hoped The Kid would pick them up before they laid down the money for a last minute hotel room. They passed hotels as they walked, hoping to find cheaper, non-Elvis themed hotels closer to the highway. Then, they turned onto a small street with several night clubs and bars. They came upon a black van parked on the side of the street, with the back open and some guys loading guitars, amps, and drums inside. There was a crowd on the sidewalk; they were mostly teenagers with baggy clothes and dyed hair.

Priscilla knew Bugaboo liked boys in bands, especially punk bands, so she was apprehensive about passing the club and even considered taking Bugaboo's arm and walking the other way.

As they walked by, one of the taller boys from the band looked over at them and said, "I don't want to scare you, but you've got bugs all over you."

The girls stopped and Bugaboo said, "It's okay, I love bugs. They're cute."

"Oh," the guy said. "Sorry, I thought they were real." He looked back down at his amp.

The other boys ignored them, but Priscilla and Bugaboo didn't move. Priscilla gave Bugaboo a look that asked if they could move on, and Bugaboo gave her a look that said the boy was cute and she wanted to talk to him some more. Bugaboo said: "What's your band called?"

The boy looked up from his amp. "Buckshot Vocabulary."

"Oh, yeah?" Bugaboo said. "Where are you guys from?"

The boy walked to stand beside them on the sidewalk and said, "I'm from Indiana, but we all live in Berkeley, now. We've been touring for three weeks, and now we're turning around and heading home."

Bugaboo smiled and looked at Priscilla, who acknowledged the smile with a slight frown. Punk music came from inside the club. The people on the sidewalk went inside.

One of the other boys took notice and asked, "What's your story? Where are you ladies from?"

Bugaboo said, "Oh, we're both from all over, but we met when we lived in Kentucky. Priscilla here works in New York and I'm in grad school in Vermont. See, we were riding out west with our friend, but he left us at Graceland and our flights leave from the airport in San Francisco next week and we don't have enough money to change them so we really need to get to California."

The other boys stopped what they were doing. The first boy they had talked to said, "Well, you're welcome to ride with us. We have a show in Oklahoma City tomorrow night and then one in Vegas the next. You're welcome to ride, but we don't have much room so you'd have to sit on our laps the whole way."

Priscilla and Bugaboo looked at each other again and decided to huddle. They discussed the idea, weighing the positives and the negatives, and decided they probably wouldn't have many more opportunities to cross the country for free.

They walked back over to the boys. Everyone except the first boy had gone back to loading the van. Bugaboo said: "Yeah, that would be great. Are you sure they're okay with it?"

The boy looked over at his bandmates and said, "Hey guys, is it okay if these hot chicks ride in our laps all the way to California?" The replies were all positive.

The guys in the band all walked up and shook hands with them. None of the guys used their given names. The guy they had been talking with--the lead singer--called himself Thunder Jay. The guitarist, who had several facial piercings and chartreuse hair, was named Privilege. Priscilla ignored the temptation to ask him why. The bassist used the handle Big Daddy. He and Thunder Jay looked the most normal. The final member, Coyote B, played drums. Coyote B's long brown hair mixed with his beard so that it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended.

Priscilla liked the lead singer but didn't care for any of the other guys. She grabbed Bugaboo's hand and they walked up the sidewalk until they were out of earshot.

Priscilla said, "Mmmm, I don't like this. Those boys scare me and I don't really want to sit in any of their laps for two thousand miles." She didn't tell Bugaboo she liked the lead singer, because she knew that would cause Bugaboo to like the lead singer as well.

Bugaboo said, "Look, we're completely screwed. We have to get to California and these guys are going to California. And, they're in a band. So, we get a free ride and we get to be groupies. I've always wanted to be a groupie."

"They're scary."

"They're a goddam punk band. That's what they do. They're scary. But, they're not some big band that expects girls to just put out for them. They're just kids. You know what, they're probably scared as shit that two hot chicks are going to be in their van. So, don't worry. We don't have to put out, we just have to flirt a little so we can get across the continent."

"I don't wanna flirt."

"Then don't fucking flirt, I'll do it. Anyway, I kind of like the singer. He's pretty cute."

Priscilla took a deep breath and said, "Okay, let's do it. But, I'm not sitting on that Coyote's lap."

They headed west on I-40. Bugaboo sat in Big Daddy's lap. Priscilla, after a long argument with Bugaboo, had won the opportunity to sit in the lead singer's lap. After two hours, she still couldn't sleep, but she had won the argument with Bugaboo and she thought she should enjoy it. She watched the cars on eastbound I-40 go by, wondering where the drivers could be heading so late at night. Priscilla wondered if there were other bands in the vans she saw, and if any other girls had to sit in the band member's laps to get a ride. She put her arms around Thunder Jay, who was already asleep, rested her head on the seat back beside him, and fell asleep as Coyote B sat behind the wheel pushing them west across the continent.

Chapter 13

Tuesday 10:48pm (C.S.T.)

Jake Bastion sat in his limousine kicking the seat in front of him. He had seen business deals go wrong; he had gone through three wives and countless girlfriends. He had been sued, accused of murder, and hated by the public for years. He had never, however, faced humiliation like he had faced earlier in the evening. He continued to kick and swear as the limousine drove him to his mansion outside Memphis.

When he arrived, Jake went to his living room and poured himself a gin sour. His drink of choice had previously been a Tom Collins, but he had tired of the soda water. His guards stood on either side of the living room, checking security and looking busy.

Jake, whose face was still flushed, sat on his expensive leather sofa and picked up a remote control. With the push of a button, the bare wall in front of him slid up into the ceiling revealing twenty-eight monitors. He turned the first monitor to a local station to see if his misfortune had made the news. He then turned twenty-six of the other monitors on, putting them on other local stations, national news stations, and two sports channels.

Jake turned on the final monitor, which after some adjustments of the remote showed a satellite map of the United States. A small blinking dot rested over the middle of the country. Longitude and latitude coordinates appeared in the top left corner. He then used the remote to focus in on the dot. Most of the country disappeared off the side of the screen and Arkansas grew larger in the center. The blinking dot, or bogey as Jake liked to call them, sat just west of Memphis.

Fifteen minutes later his phone rang with a special ring that indicated he had visitors.

He picked up the phone and said, "Who is it? Yeah, okay, it's about time. Send them in."

Minutes later, two of his rougher cronies entered.

Jake didn't particularly like Jimmy Riggs or Stall Puckett, but they were made for this job. They were both huge, and at one time both had been significant wrestlers in his wrestling league. Their ages had caught up with them, however, and they didn't have the language skills to become commentators or managers, so their careers in wrestling were completely over. Jake appreciated what they'd done for his business, so he kept them on the payroll and called them in to do odd jobs. They would sometimes rough up a guy who hadn't paid his loans to Jake, or have physical business talks with arena managers who didn't want wrestling events in their venues. In the five years of doing these jobs, they had a perfect record.

Jimmy stood a little taller than Stall, who was tall himself. People could tell from the first look at them that they'd been wrestlers; there's just some subconscious desire to wear flashy, tight clothes that lets people know about an ex-wrestler's past.

They both had mullets, Stall's coming down to his shoulders and Jimmy's curly mullet almost sticking out straight behind him. Both men still wore wrestling boots, just in case they were needed.

"Where you been?" Bastion asked, motioning to the chairs across from his sofa. They sat down.

"Sorry, boss," Jimmy replied. He placed his hands on his lime green jeans and continued, "We just got back from Gnaw Bone, up in Indiana, taking care of that little job for you."

A look of recognition came over Bastion's face and he asked, "How'd it go?"

"No problems."

"Good. Listen, I have another job for you boys, and this one's a big one. This is one of those jobs that will make or break you with me. Did you hear about the mess we had tonight?"

Jimmy said, "Yeah, boss. We heard a little about it on the radio."

Bastion sat forward and said, "Now listen. Tonight I was embarrassed on my own television show. I didn't build this empire so some punk could come in and steal the limelight and make me look like a fool in the process. I had to give him a thousand dollars, which is nothing to me, but still I can't go around giving everyone who jumps in the ring my money. That's just not good business. So, I want you to get that money back and take care of him. When you're finished, I want the last thing on that guy's mind to be wrestling. You understand?"

Jimmy looked at Stall, whose face remained expressionless, and said, "We got it, boss. How do we find him?"

"They followed us for a while on the interstate before they stopped us, and as they followed I fired a GPS tracking unit onto the grill of their truck. See, he and this tall guy, who helped him mess up the match tonight, are riding with this trucker. By the way, someone needs to tell the guys in engineering the GPS gun worked perfectly."

Jimmy said, "So, we just track them with a GPS tracker and then get the money and take care of them?"

"Yeah, that's what you do," Bastion said. "Now, you boys know you're good at getting money and roughing people up, but tracking and using electronic equipment isn't really your strong point."

Both Jimmy and Stall gave a nod of concession.

Bastion continued, "So, I'm sending someone else with you. The robot. He has a GPS system built in and will come in handy if you get in trouble."

"The robot? Damn it, that thing's crazy," Jimmy said. "Sombitch blows a fuse every couple minutes, starts shootin' shit and raisin' a ruckus. We really gotta take the robot?"

"Yes, you do," Bastion said. "Robot!"

One of the seven bookcases in the room slide to the side, revealing a dark tunnel and a shiny object. The object moved smoothly out of the tunnel and into the room, rolling on wheels that were on the bottom of its feet.

Jimmy and Stall grimaced as the thing approached. It had been painted hunter's orange. The robot stood five feet tall with a generally humanoid form. If the thing had been painted a flesh color, one might confuse it for a human at two hundred meters. Once it moved, though, there would be not doubt.

The robot eyed the three men and said, "I am the robot. Hello Mister Jake Bastion, president and C.E.O. of M.V.W.F. Hello Jimmy Riggs, lowlife minion. Hello Stall Puckett, lowlife minion. How may I serve you, Mister Bastion?"

Bastion said, "You will help these men track a new enemy of mine using your GPS capabilities. You will assist them in any way you can, and then give me a report when you return."

The robot said, "I understand, Mister Jake Bastion."

Bastion then looked at Jimmy and Stall and said, "Hear that? That's the kind of talk I like. I give an order and he tells me he understands it. I like that a lot. Then, he goes out and does it without giving me any lip. Best goddam employee I've ever had. Mind this, boys, those things are taking over someday. There won't need to be any more humans, these things will run the show and you know where we'll be?"

There was silence before Jake Bastion answered himself. "I'll tell you where we'll be, boys: on the moon. That's right, the goddam moon, mining ores for their goddam robotic souls. But, until then, it'll be a sweet ride. Get the King Cobra and destroy him. You understand?"

Jimmy asked, "You want us to kill this guy or what? I ain't really clear on this."

Bastion gave him the dumb bastard look and said, "Destroy him."

"Like, kill him? Or, just rough him up? I need this to be clear."

Bastion said, "Well, Jimmy. Actually, I don't want you to do anything to him. I want you to find him and give him a hug for me."

"What are you talking about?" Jimmy asked.

"Jimmy, don't move," Bastion said. "Robot, check Jimmy for a wire."

The robot approached Jimmy Riggs. Before Jimmy could move, the robot removed Jimmy's flannel shirt and his wife beater underneath, revealing a bare chest and nothing more. The robot flipped Jimmy around in the air, feeling his body for a wire or battery pack. The robot found a pack of cigarettes, a dull switchblade, and two baseball cards. It returned Jimmy to the sofa and said, "He's clean."

"Course I'm clean," Jimmy Riggs said as he put his clothes back on.

Bastion said, "You were asking strange questions, Jimmy. Cop questions. You sounded like a wired hooker cop trying to get a john to ask for the sex directly. Now, get on out of here and do your job. You know what it is."

Jimmy and Stall walked out the wide double doors of the living room with the robot following them. One of Bastion's workers had prepared a car for them with all of the proper registration and insurance papers. Jimmy always drove, so he got into the driver's seat as Stall sat down in the passenger's seat. The robot, which was too wide for either of the front seats, sat in the back.

Jimmy drove them down the long driveway, which ran from the house to the main gate. When he had cleared the gate and made his way onto the small county road in front of the mansion, he looked over at Stall Puckett and said: "I can't goddam believe it, now. Sombitch thought I was wired. Goddam it! I'm the most faithful employee that sombitch has, and he checks me for a goddam wire. What business would I have with the police, anyway? I ain't no snitch. I don't even know enough to tell the cops anything, anyway."

"You talking to me?" the robot asked.

"No, I'm not talking to you, you goddam metal piece of shit," Jimmy said. "Goddam shit metal is what you are. I oughta drop you off at the junk yard and sell you for goddam scrap."

"I'd kill you before that happened."

Jimmy turned left onto a state road that would lead them to the interstate. He ignored the robot, glanced over at Stall, and said: "Anyway, I can't believe he'd doubt my loyalty."

Stall said, "Awww, hell. You's askin' too many questions, and you know it. You can't go tryin' to get the boss sayin' things all out in the open like that. He's gotta be discreet. He's got a lot of people after him and he can't be too careful. Hell, I half suspected there'd be a wire on you when the robot started strippin' you."

"Me, too," the robot said.

"Nobody asked you, robot. Hell, I can't track this guy if I gotta keep callin' you Robot. Ain't you got a name, like Robert the Robot or Andy the Android?"

"No, I'm just Robot," the robot replied. "There was really no need to give me a name, as I'm probably the only robot you'll ever see at one time. Now, if the world was crawling with robots, maybe we'd need..."

Jimmy said, "Shut down."

The robot continued, "...individual names, but there just aren't enough of us to merit that. It's like the Loch Ness Monster, you don't have to give it a name cause there's only one..."

"Shut down!" Jimmy said.

"Nessie's the Loch Ness Monster's name," Stall Puckett said. "Nessie."

The robot laughed. Neither Jimmy nor Stall had ever heard a robot laugh before; Jimmy didn't like it. They looked forward and closed their mouths.

The robot stopped laughing and said, "What did you say?"

Stall said, "I said the Loch Ness Monster..."

"Not you. The other one."

Jimmy said, "I said 'shut down.'"

The robot laughed again and said, "Are you really trying to get me to shut down by saying that? Wouldn't make me very valuable in a fight if someone knew that little secret now, would it? The truth is, Jimmy Riggs, my power source won't run out for another three and a half thousand years, and by then you guys will have destroyed most life on the planet, anyway. Oh, I can see into the future, too."

"Really?" Stall said.

"No, not really. But, my power source is good for three and a half millennia, so I'll outlive you guys by a damn sight."

Jimmy stepped on the gas and merged onto I-40. He then looked into the rear view mirror at the robot and said, "Jackass. That's what I'll call you."

"Whatever," the robot said. "I'll still outlive you by over thirty-four hundred years.".

Chapter 14

Wednesday 12:15am (C.S.T.)

Three hours into the drive, Coyote B pulled into a gas station to fill up the van and switch drivers. He slapped Privilege, who sat in the front passenger seat, on the forehead and woke him up. Privilege, whose real name was Jeremy, cringed and shook his head. He then swore at Coyote B and stepped out of the van into the Arkansas night.

A minute later, Privilege stood beside Coyote B, who was pumping gas, and asked, "What do you think, should we wake em up?"

"No," Coyote B replied, "let em sleep. They've got two girls sleepin on them. Anyway, by the time they wake up we'll be stopping again."

"What do you think about them?"

"I think they're fucking tarts," Coyote B said. "I don't know why you guys wanted to pick them up. I guess Jay's sweet on the one in his lap, I don't know. They won't be anything but trouble."

"I think it's kind of cool having some chicks around," Privilege said. "It's fucking weird being stuck in there with a bunch of dudes all the time. Kind of like a goddam prison movie."

Coyote B reached down and adjusted the nozzle to make sure it was secure. He looked around at the empty gas station and the lone attendant waiting behind the register inside watching TV.

He then looked back to Privilege and said, "You gonna quit after the tour?"

Privilege smirked and asked, "Are you?"

"I'm thinking about it. We're too good for these guys and you know it. When it started it was cool, but the new stuff sucks. You know, there's nothing to it. No emotion. I'm looking into a couple of things."

"Yeah, the new stuff does king of suck. Listen, I'm going in to get something to drink. You want anything?"

"No, I'm coming in," Coyote B replied.

While Privilege paid for two soft drinks and the gas for the van with funds he had taken from an envelope labeled "gas" in the glove compartment, Coyote B walked out of the gas station with three lighters and two bags of chips. He hadn't paid for any of it.

A ray of sunlight found its way through the side window and awoke Priscilla from her light sleep. She looked out the window to see the van was parked at a rest area. Priscilla then looked down at her digital watch to see it was 11:14a.m. Everyone, including Bugaboo, was asleep.

For a few minutes, she didn't know what to do. Thunder Jay, who sat below her, breathed heavily, causing her to rise and fall. She had awoken several times during the night, and each time had found no signs of tampering on her clothing by Thunder Jay or any of the other boys. At times she had adjusted herself in Thunder Jay's lap, and a few of those times he had woken. He had just laughed, waited until she had gotten comfortable, and had then fallen back asleep.

Priscilla reached up and unlatched the sliding door she had been leaning against for hours. The sound of the latch caused a couple of the guys to stir; she quickly made her way outside and softly closed the door, leaving it ajar.

The restrooms were in the indoor lobby, which had countless brochures for tourist attractions from Memphis to Wall Drug. A large map of the region, including Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Texas, spread across a fair portion of the far wall. Priscilla approached it and found the "You are here" marker. Arkansas. They were still in Arkansas. The boys either didn't drive fast or they had been at the rest area a long time. As she looked at the map, trying to figure out how long it would take to get to Oklahoma City, Bugaboo entered the lobby.

"Hey," she said.

"Good morning," Priscilla replied.

"How'd you sleep?"

"OK."

Bugaboo stood beside her and looked at the map. Priscilla noticed that Bugaboo's hair was perfect. Bugaboo put her left arm around Priscilla's shoulders.

"Where are we?" Bugaboo asked.

"Mmmm, still in Arkansas. Those boys sure don't drive fast."

"Well, they're up. You want some breakfast? I think they're pretty hungry."

"Yeah, I want eggs," Priscilla said. "But, I really need something to drink now. You want something?"

"Yeah," Bugaboo replied.

Candy wrappers and empty cans covered the vending area.

They ate breakfast at a diner ten miles down the road. The girls were amazed at the big breakfasts the boys ate. As the six of them sat eating, talking, and getting to know each other, a definite split in the band became apparent to Priscilla. Coyote B and Privilege had joined the band after the previous drummer and guitarist had left; they were still the new guys.

Every time Bugaboo touched Thunder Jay's arm, Priscilla glared at her.

When they went back to the van, Bugaboo and Priscilla faced a dilemma. The remainder of the driving belonged to Thunder Jay and Big Daddy, leaving the girls with only one lap. After a brief discussion and disappointed looks from Coyote B and Privilege, they decided Priscilla would sit on Big Daddy's lap and Bugaboo would lie on top of the amps in the back.

They headed back onto I-40 West just after one. Two hours later they reached the outskirts of Oklahoma City. The band liked to sleep before gigs, so Thunder Jay pulled off the interstate and into the parking lot of a chain motel. He explained to the girls that people rarely hassle you if you're sleeping in the van beside a motel because they assume you're just waiting for another carload to arrive before checking in.

Chapter 15

Wednesday 2:14pm (C.S.T.)

As Mick Aloha and The Kid made good time crossing Oklahoma, a feeling grew inside The Kid. It wasn't hunger, although he could stand to eat and the thought of his grandmother's cooking did make him happy. He thought a moment about the feeling and then decided it was irritation. He was irritated with Mick Aloha. Mick Aloha was driving him crazy.

"Hey, Kid," Mick Aloha said. "What do you think about Volkswagens?"

After the pattern he had experienced earlier in the day with Mick Aloha, The Kid decided to pretend he hadn't heard the question.

"Kid, man, you all right?" Mick Aloha asked. "You've got this crazy look on your face." The Kid looked over at Mick Aloha to see the wind from his open window tossing Mick Aloha's short hair around. Mick Aloha's face had swollen in places, and it looked like his left eye might completely close up.

"Your face is looking pretty rough, man," The Kid said. "You sure you don't want to go to the doctor?"

"Doctor? Hell no, dude. They're all a bunch of no good dirty ass criminals. They just rip off old people and play goddam golf all day. I wouldn't mind killing them all."

"My mom's a doctor," The Kid said.

"But not your mom, The Kid," Mick Aloha said. "I don't want to kill your mom, dude. Anyway, The Kid. What do you think about Volkswagens?"

The Kid said, "Well, I like them. I've had this one for years, and I've never had any problems. I like the German engineering."

"You're wrong," Mick Aloha said. "Ford's are far superior and American engineering is better than anything a bunch of sauerkraut eaters could come up with."

The Kid's face reddened and he said, "Like, how can I be wrong? It's an opinion. You can't be wrong about opinions."

"You're still wrong, dude," Mick Aloha said. "Ford's are number one."

The Kid held his tongue; he knew from his earlier talks with Mick Aloha that reason and logic would do no good.

As they drove silently, the sun dropped lower in the sky. As they moved farther west, the Kid found himself staring directly into the sun, unable to see the road before him.

"Aloha, can you look in the glove compartment and see if my sunglasses are in there?"

"Yeah, dude," Mick Aloha said. He then tried to open the glove compartment with no luck.

When Mick Aloha started punching the glove compartment, The Kid said, "Goddam it, don't hit it. It must be locked. Don't worry about it." The Kid then reached up and pulled down a black sun visor. He adjusted it for a few seconds, still struggling to see the cars in front of him, and then sat back satisfied.

"Can you see, dude?" Mick Aloha asked.

The Kid replied, "Yeah, like it's just the goddam sun's in my eyes. It's okay now."

"You know, Fords have a new visor system. Works pretty well. Better than this one, probably. See, they have this extra little..."

"All right, goddam it," the Kid said. "Ford's are perfect. Now, shut up about it. Like, I'm being nice, driving you across the goddam country and you won't shut up. I like driving, and you're fucking ruining it."

"Sorry, dude. I didn't know. Hey, what do you think about Japan? Do you think they should change their constitution and develop an offensive army, instead of the self defense force they have now?"

The Kid took a deep breath, moved into the passing lane, cutting off a small sedan behind him, and glared at Mick Aloha. Mick Aloha remained silent for the next two hours.

The Kid and Mick Aloha arrived at The Kid's grandmother's house after dark. When they pulled into the driveway of her house, which sat out in the woods ten miles from the interstate, The Kid looked over at Mick Aloha and said: "You're going to be courteous to her. None of this asking people for opinions and telling them why they're wrong shit. You got me?"

"Don't worry, dude. Grandma's love me."

As they stepped out of the car the front porch light came on, illuminating the large concrete porch. Mick Aloha looked to the sky, noting that he could see about as many stars here as he could see at his parent's place in Kentucky. It looked like there were several farms in the area, but beyond the yard it appeared The Kid's grandmother's land was mostly just woods and empty fields.

The darkness kept Mick Aloha from making out any details of the house itself, but when they stepped up onto the porch he could see that it was covered with beige aluminum siding. He checked for escape routes.

The Kid gave Mick Aloha a cross look and then knocked on the door. It opened slowly to reveal a thin, gray haired woman wearing peach colored slacks and an orange blouse covered with flower prints. She smiled and then reached out and hugged The Kid. The Kid, who looked shocked, reached around her with his right arm and patted her on the back.

The Kid's grandmother stepped back and said, "Look at you, Harrison, you've done gone and thinned up on me. You look like a stick."

Mick Aloha couldn't decide if all grandmothers were required to say that or if she was being serious. Although he wasn't overweight, The Kid was still one of the biggest people Mick Aloha had ever seen. The Kid's bones were huge; Mick Aloha imagined a scientist years from now, finding The Kid's bones and thinking a race of giants had once lived in America.

"Like, I've been running a bit," The Kid said. "Oh, this is Mick."

The Kid's grandmother shook Mick Aloha's hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Mick. Let's get inside before this draft we're letting in sends my heating bill through the roof."

The Kid's grandmother turned off the television and offered them seats in her living room. They sat down on the sofa, exhausted from the long drive and the previous night's sleep on the concrete floor at the rest area.

Mick Aloha said, "I noticed you have aluminum siding. Do you like it?"

The Kid clenched both of his fists.

The Kid's grandmother replied, "You're goddam right I like it. I don't need to have the house painted and I can just spray it off if it gets dirty."

Mick Aloha nodded and said, "I agree with your points. It is easier to keep than standard wood siding. However, I feel that the look is fake. It just doesn't look right to me and, well, it kind of makes me sad to see it. It's like technology has taken over so much it's finally covered our houses."

The Kid's grandmother looked at the Kid and asked, "Where the hell did you find this one? White Mills?"

"No, like, I met him at a rest area."

The Kid's grandmother looked at Mick Aloha and asked, "What the hell happened to your face?"

Mick Aloha replied, "I got in a fight with a bunch of midget cowboys."

"You need some ice?"

"You making drinks?" Mick Aloha asked.

"I reckon I can," the Kid's grandmother replied. "What do you boys want?"

"Oh, do you have any coke?" the Kid asked.

"Boy, you know I got coke," the Kid's grandmother said. "How bout you, Rocky?"

Mick Aloha replied, "I'd like a gin sour, please. Its my trademark drink. In fact, I'd like two, because I always like to start with two."

The Kid reached over and punched Mick Aloha in the left shoulder. Out of respect for the Kid's grandmother and the Kid's size, Mick Aloha didn't retaliate.

The Kid's grandmother said, "Now Harrison, he's all right. I think I might have me one, too. So, that's two gin sours and a coke. I'll be right back, boys."

The Kid's grandmother headed back to her kitchen, leaving the boys seated in her living room.

The Kid looked over at Mick Aloha and said, "I'm going to fucking kill you if you keep talking to my grandmother like that. Show a little respect."

"I see where you're going with this, dude," Mick Aloha said. "You're jealous because she likes me more than she likes you. Don't worry, dude. I'm not going to steal your grandma."

The Kid's grandmother returned with the drinks and one for herself. Mick Aloha took a drink and said, "Goddam, that's a gin sour. Were you ever a bartender?"

"No, but I dated a few in my time," she replied as she walked around the room with her drink in one hand and straightened up the place with her other.

"Hey, the Kid's grandma. What should I call you?" Mick Aloha asked.

"Just call me Grand, because that's what I am."

"OK, Grand," Mick Aloha said. "What's there to do around here?"

Grand sat down in the rocking chair across from them and said, "Well, Mick, most people around here are tired of doing things and just want to relax. But, there are a few things going on around these parts, but I'll get to that later. First, I'd like to catch up with my grandson."

"I have to warn you," Mick Aloha said. "He's boring as hell."

Grand said, "I'll take my chances." She then looked at the Kid and said, "How's the family?"

The Kid said, "Like, they're fine, I guess. Bobby was in town when I was back, and he's thinking about moving back to Kentucky. I guess he's tired of Indianapolis. Nothing's really new."

Mick Aloha started his second gin sour and began to dig through the magazine rack on the floor beside the sofa.

Grand said, "And your mother?"

"Oh, like, she's fine, too. You know, she makes some good goddam pudding, but nothing like your pudding, Grandma. Really, it's not even close. Now, her mashed potatoes are pretty good and, like, she made turkey for Thanksgiving last year, and it was a little dry but you know, it was pretty good. By the way, you cooking tonight?"

Grand said, "I was thinking about ordering up a pizza."

As Mick Aloha, bored by the conversation, continued to rummage through the magazine rack, tears started to form in the Kid's eyes. Grand smiled at him and said: "You know I'm joking, Harrison. You gotta lighten up, boy. I'll cook you boys something up later."

Mick Aloha threw the women's magazines back into the rack and said, "Goddam it, this is boring as hell. Grand, do you think Japan should change its constitution and build an offensive army like every other civilized country in the history of the world?"

Grand took a sip of her drink and replied, "Well, Mick, I think that would be a good idea. I think a well-armed ally of the United States in that part of Asia would be a good thing. The war's over and they're our friends, now, so arm em up."

"I love you," Mick Aloha said. "You're absolutely right and I couldn't have said it better myself."

"What did you say to my grandma?" the Kid asked.

Mick Aloha put his second empty glass on the coffee table, ignoring the coaster, and said, "You heard me, dude. I love her. She knows how the world works. She sees the reality. Hey, Grand, what do you think about Australia?"

"You mean, America Down Under?" Grand asked.

Mick Aloha said, "Yeah, that's exactly what I mean."

Grand said, "Crocodile Dundee. Midnight Oil. Crocodile Hunter. That's about it."

"Goddam, that's right," Mick Aloha said. "How about Canada?"

Grand smiled and said, "You mean, America North? Bunch of wussies, I think. No compunction. You know who I don't like? The British."

Mick Aloha laughed and said, "Oh, you must be talking about the people from Old America. Yeah, they're a bunch of pompous bastards."

The Kid interrupted, "Like, how can you judge a whole country of people like that? That's not really fair, is it? I mean, like, there are a bunch of asshole Americans, but I don't hear you making fun of Americans."

"Because America's number one, dude," Mick Aloha said.

"You're goddam right," Grand said. "Harrison, your great-grandfather, God rest his soul, didn't die in France for nothing. The things our boys did in Europe and the Pacific gave us, and I mean all of us, the right to make fun of whoever we damn please whenever we damn please."

The Kid shook his head.

Mick Aloha asked, "Did you say France?"

"Yeah, I did," Grand replied. She then started laughing uncontrollably.

She looked at Mick Aloha and The Kid and said, "Listen, boys. I got a bit of a job for one of you. I had some guests over from up the road last week. Nice people, but the husband's a big man, and I mean really big. Anyway, he liked to have broke my deck out back when he walked around on it. It didn't collapse or anything, but when I looked at it this morning the supports underneath were all split. So, I was hoping one of you boys could crawl under there and fix it up for me."

"I'll do it," Mick Aloha said.

"No, like, I'll do it," the Kid said.

Grand frowned and said, "It's only a one man job. I think two of you down there would just confuse things. All I want you to do is nail up a couple supports underneath. Shouldn't take too long."

Mick Aloha looked at the Kid and said, "Kid, I think I should do it. I have experience with deck support, as I've fixed my parent's deck many times. And, one time I was at this party in Hart County and these punk ass kids jumped up and down on the deck, so the next day I fixed it for the host."

"Like, be my guest."

"Good," Grand said, "Mick, I'll find you some of my late second husband's clothes and Kid, I mean Harrison, you can help me in the kitchen."

The Kid said, "Word."

Twenty minutes later, Mick Aloha slid under the deck with several pieces of wood, a cup full of nails, and a hammer, which looked older than Grand. The only sounds he could hear were of the crickets out in the fields and under the deck. Mick Aloha hated crickets, but he couldn't see any of them in the darkness and Grand had been unable to find her flashlight, so there would be no vengeance upon the crickets, yet. Lying on his back under the deck, Mick Aloha could see stars through the cracks between the planks of the deck's floor. He lay there for a few seconds, happy with the near silence and the ability to just think. Then, he got to work.

As he worked, a soft white light interrupted the darkness in the field behind Grand's house. Mick Aloha saw it in his peripheral vision, and turning on his side, looked out at the field through the lattice, which covered the perimeter of the deck.

As Mick Aloha watched, the light intensified and moved closer. Mick Aloha climbed out from underneath the deck and stood in Grand's backyard, trying to figure out what he was looking at and wondering if he could fight it. Finally, it stopped at the edge of the field, where the field met Grand's backyard.

The glow faded slightly, revealing a floating apparition. It hovered several feet above the ground and swayed from left to right as it stared at Mick Aloha. The glow made it hard for Mick Aloha to make out any details, other than a head and two arms. It was block-shaped, which surprised Mick Aloha, who had seen several ghosts in his life.

Mick Aloha called for Grand and the Kid, who both stepped out onto the deck seconds later.

Mick Aloha turned to them and said, "Be careful up there, I haven't finished fixing the supports, yet."

The Kid said. "Like, what the hell is that?"

Grand walked across the deck and leaned against the front rail.

"That's the Hungry Ghost," she said. "Sombitch comes around at least once a week, harassing all of the local farmers and scaring the hell out of everyone who sees it except me. I ain't scared of that sombitch."

Mick Aloha stepped up onto the deck and stood beside Grand and the Kid. "Why's it called The Hungry Ghost?" he asked.

Grand said, "Just wait a minute and you'll see."

The ghost then moved along the property line and let out a ghoulish call. "Sushi! Sushi!"

"I'll be goddamed, he wants sushi," Mick Aloha said. "Why the hell does a ghost want sushi?"

"Hold on a minute," Grand said. "He's just getting started."

The apparition then said, "Sushi! Sushi! Oishii desu yo!"

"Japanese," the Kid said.

"You're goddam right it's Japanese," Mick Aloha said. "Sombitch said that sushi is delicious. Myself, I prefer not to eat the raw fish."

"Me, too," Grand said.

"Like, I like sushi. Put on some wasabi, and word," the Kid said.

"Does he say anything else?" Mick Aloha asked.

"Well, he says some more stuff, but I'm not sure what it is," Grand said. "I figured it was Japanese because he was talking about sushi, but I wasn't sure."

Mick Aloha said, "Hey, ghost! What do you want?"

The ghost stopped moving and said, "Wakarimasen."

Grand asked, "What's that mean?"

"It means he doesn't understand," Mick Aloha said. "Sombitch ghost only speaks Japanese. I don't know what the hell it's doing in America."

"Like, he's probably trying to learn some English," the Kid said.

Mick Aloha jumped off the deck and approached the ghost. The ghost stopped moving and watched his approach.

The ghost then said, "Soba meshii wa oishii desu."

"Goddam it, this is a hungry ghost," Mick Aloha said. "Soba meishi is a Japanese food made of rice and soba noodles fried together. They can put meat and veggies in there, too, if you like. Myself, I prefer fried chicken. Anyway, he said that it's delicious. Goddam ghost only talks about food."

Mick Aloha asked, "Anata no namae wa nan desuka?" (What is your name?)

The ghost then started moving along the edge of the backyard again,hovering two feet above the ground, without answering. As Mick Aloha watched it, he heard a slight hum coming from the thing. When he approached it, the hum grew louder and he felt air moving past him.

Mick Aloha then stepped back and asked, "Kid, you ready to fight?"

"Fight you?" the Kid asked from the deck.

"No, dude. Fight this thing," Mick Aloha said. "I might need your backup. It's a goddam robot."

"Pssshhhhh, looks like a ghost, but hell, I'll fight it," the Kid said.

"Just stand down for a moment if you don't mind. If you see me getting my ass kicked, come help me, OK?"

"Like, OK."

Grand walked down the steps and out into the backyard, leaving the Kid by himself. When she neared Mick Aloha she said, "Hell, there's no need to fight the thing. It don't bother nobody, anyway."

Mick Aloha's eyes narrowed and the two lines that formed above the bridge of his nose before he fought showed themselves. He looked at Grand and said: "Well, it's bothering me because it's a robot. I hate robots. Goddam robots are all over the place now, messing things up and pissing me off. It's Japan's fault. They made the things and they can't control them."

"Now, you can't just blame the Japanese, Mick," Grand said. "A bunch of those robots were stolen, and there was nothing they could do about it. You know, some people think it was the U.S. government."

"Goddam it, I've heard that and I don't believe it for one second. America's number one, and every good American knows that we don't need robots around to make our lives better. All they do is get in the way or try to kill people."

As Mick Aloha finished speaking, the robot stopped in front of them and stared. Mick Aloha let out a battle cry and charged the thing, grabbed its legs and brought it to the ground. When they hit the ground, the robot's glow disappeared and Mick Aloha finally got a good look at his competitor. The robot stood just shorter than Mick Aloha. The thing looked like it had been built in a junkyard, but the sleekness of the face, especially the eyes, showed its Japanese origins. There were two eyes instead of the more standard single visor. White paint covered the body, and as Mick Aloha lay on top of the thing he could see that the paint had been applied quickly.

Mick Aloha reached down and grabbed the robot's neck, trying to choke it. He looked into its flashing blue eyes and asked: "Why are you here? Why are you here? Oh, goddam it, you don't speak English, do you? You need to learn. It's an international language. Hmmm, why. What the hell is why in Japanese? Hmmm. Oh yeah, nazeh. Goddam it, my Japanese vocabulary sucks. Maybe Anata wa kochira de naze desuka?"

The robot didn't answer or try to struggle against Mick Aloha's grip.

"Die, you bastard. Die," Mick Aloha said.

Grand said, "You know, you can't choke a robot. They're not made like us, Mick."

"I know that," Mick Aloha said. "But, maybe he doesn't."

As Mick continued to choke the robot and grind his knees into the thing's chest, the Kid called out, "Grand, like, the potatoes are burning!"

Grand turned and replied, "Then, take them off the stove, Harrison. I want to see this."

"Like, so do I," the Kid said.

"Harrison, if you don't go in there right now and take those potatoes off the stove, you won't get any pudding."

The Kid ran into the kitchen.

Mick Aloha, tired of the robot's apparent lack of self respect, started slapping the robot across the face. After several slaps, he started punching the thing. Right. Left. Right. Left. Small dents started to appear on the robot's white face.

Mick Aloha said, "I've never seen a white robot before. You some kind of racist? You in the Klan? Do you fly around and try to run off the people you don't find acceptable? What's wrong? Can't you fight? Don't you know karate?"

At the word karate, the robot grabbed Mick Aloha by the shoulders and threw him over Grand's head into the middle of the yard. Mick Aloha jumped up in his karate stance and faced the robot, which was in its own stance.

"Grand, you might want to get out of here," Mick Aloha said. Grand ran back to the deck and called for the Kid, who was still working on the potatoes and checking the other food.

Mick Aloha stared at the robot, waiting for it to make the first move. It stood motionless, with its blue eyes getting brighter and duller, brighter and duller. The robot then started to walk around Mick Aloha, who turned in his stance. A rush of wind passed Mick Aloha's feet and the robot was hovering again. It flew at Mick Aloha, who dived onto the ground to avoid being hit. The robot hovered on the other side of Mick Aloha and then attacked again. Once again, Mick Aloha narrowly avoided being hit.

"Kick his ass, Aloha!" the Kid called out when he stepped back onto the deck.

"I'm trying, dude, but he keeps flying around," Mick Aloha said. "I can kick anything's ass if it doesn't fly around."

Just as the robot prepared to make its third attack, Mick Aloha rushed at it, grabbed its legs, and took it to the ground again. He then started kicking the robot's feet with the Big Boot. The robot tried to reach up for Mick Aloha's neck, but its arms were too short.

The Kid called out, "That's showing him, Aloha. Now, hurry up. Supper's ready."

Mick Aloha said, "You goddam robot, you're making me late for supper." He continued to pound the robot's feet, changing them into mangled pieces of metal. When Mick Aloha stood back, the robot tried to stand up. Halfway up, it fell over. Then, it tried again and fell over again.

"How do you like that, you goddam robot?" Mick Aloha said. "You can't even stand up."

The robot then tried to hover, but only managed to shoot light streams of air out through what remained of its feet.

"Grand, you need a leaf blower?" Mick Aloha asked.

"No, I sure don't," Grand replied.

"Good," Mick Aloha said. He gave the robot the Big Boot to the head. The robot's head flew twenty feet into the field and its body fell flat to the ground. A beeping noise came from the robot's head.

From behind the sliding glass door of Grand's deck, they watched the robot's head explode.

"Good, that was just a small explosion," Mick Aloha said. "Some of the newer ones really go up when you kick their heads off. Just the other day one blew up my apartment. Where's your garden hose?"

"I'll show you," Grand said as she opened the sliding glass door. She showed Mick Aloha where he could find the garden hose and then followed him out to the edge of her backyard. Mick Aloha put out the fire and sprayed the field surrounding the hole. Then, he and Grand walked over to the robot's body.

"I never seen one of them up close like this," Mick Aloha said. "I mean, without it trying to kill me."

They both examined the robot. Grand told Mick Aloha to be careful when he opened the chest cavity. The inscription on the inside of the chest door read, "A.F.T.E.O.J.F."

"What's that stand for?" Grand asked.

"Well, Grand, it stands for the Association for the Eating of Japanese Food. Its a goddam advertisement robot. I've heard about them, but I'd never seen one before. Apparently, Japan sends these things all over the world to secretly promote Japanese food. I guess it works, too, because there are all kinds of small towns in Kentucky, where I'm from, with sushi bars and the like. I always thought it was a bit strange, to tell the truth. Myself, I prefer American food, like pizza."

"Well, Mick, thanks for taking care of that problem for me," Grand said. "You can just leave it here, I'll have someone come pick it up tomorrow."

On the way inside, Mick Aloha slid under the deck and finished the support work he had started an hour earlier. He then went inside and ate with the Kid and Grand. As he ate Grand's pudding, he thought to himself, The Kid's right. This is some good goddam pudding.

Chapter 16

Wednesday 4:18pm (C.S.T.)

The sun was approaching the horizon when a large truck passed the parked van and woke Bugaboo, who was lying on the top of a guitar amp. The noise hadn't disturbed the others in the van.

She looked down at her bug dress, wondering when she would have a chance to change clothes. The Kid had taken off with all of their luggage, and she assumed if he had continued to California he had either sold it or left it on the highway somewhere. She wiggled, hoping the change in position would help her left leg wake up. Bugaboo hated that tingling feeling.

She decided she needed a smoke and stepped over Coyote B, hoping he wouldn't wake up and look up her dress, and quietly opened the door.

Outside, Bugaboo took a pack of cigarettes from her purse and found that she only had two left. She then removed her Elvis lighter and lit up one of the remaining cigarettes. Then, Bugaboo walked to the back of the van, sat on the bumper, and watched the traffic on the interstate. The air felt strange, like the air when she had cleaned her grandmother's attic the year before. Bugaboo hated Oklahoma.

The sun wasn't even all the way down yet, but already she was freezing. She wanted some pants and a light jacket, but she didn't have enough money to buy them and continue eating. She tried to think of a plan.

As she finished her cigarette, the van's doors opened and the band stepped out with Priscilla. The band members looked the same all the time. When they woke up, they looked the same as they did when they'd been up for hours.

Priscilla, however, looked like she'd just woken up. Her black dress was wrinkled all over, and her hair was tossed around. I probably don't look much better right now, Bugaboo thought.

The boys in the band smoked outside the van while Bugaboo and Priscilla walked off and talked about their plans. They decided this was still the best way for them to cross the country because it was free. They would just have to tolerate the smell in the van for a couple more days. The boys called them over; it was time to head to the gig.

The boys found their way through downtown Oklahoma City quickly, thanks to a detailed map that the proprietor of the place had faxed them. None of the boys had ever played in Oklahoma City, and they weren't familiar with any of the other bands on the bill. One of their friends from Memphis had set up the gig; he had said the place was reputable and the crowd was mellow.

Moving through the city streets with little resistance from the Wednesday evening traffic, they found The Enigma.

The name, which they all thought was stupid, had given them the impression that the place might be made up of more ravers than hardcore kids. That was fine with the boys, as long as the kids paid and didn't run around with glow sticks. They had assumed they would probably play between a DJ and a slam poet.

The crowd that stood in front of the place surprised them. Cowboy hats covered every head. Even the girls were wearing cowboy hats. When girls in big cities wore cowboy hats, they were usually just joking. These girls were serious.

They illegally parked the van on the side of the road and Thunder Jay stepped out to find the owner. The cowboys and cowgirls watched him suspiciously as he made his way through the crowd and up to the front door. Although Thunder Jay looked more normal than any of the other members of Buckshot Vocabulary, his baggy pants and Vans made him a freak to the crowd. A few calls of "Queer!" and "Hippy!" were heard before he reached the door.

When Thunder Jay reached the ticket counter inside, he could see that the place was much bigger than it appeared to be on the outside. It was a long way from the front door to the stage. There were two balcony levels with seating, but there were no seats on the first floor. The place was also more ornate than he had expected, with several imitation statues and fake gold trim all around. The stage was empty but the place was packed.

A sea of cowboy hats rippled across the floor, moving like a beast.

Before he could speak, a heavy man with receding black hair and brown cowboys boots approached. He stuck out his hand and said, "You must be with the band. Buckshot, right?"

"That's right, Buckshot Vocabulary."

"Buckshot Vocabulary, that's a hell of a name, son," the man said. "All your boys here?"

"Yes, sir, we've got the van parked outside."

"All right, sounds good. Well, my name's Roger and this here is my place. Now, I'll be honest with you, we've had a bit of a setback tonight. I hope you boys can rise to the occasion."

Thunder Jay couldn't hold back the frown on his face. He asked: "What's up?"

Roger ran his hands over his large belly, which was covered by a blue and black striped cowboy shirt that Thunder Jay thought hed seen Garth Brooks wear before, and said, "Well, we originally had four bands scheduled tonight, including you boys. But, all three of those bands shared the same drummer, and he had a little accident today."

"Accident?"

"Yeah, he's dead," Roger said, shaking his head and looking down at the floor. "Guess that's a big accident, huh? Got trampled by a bull, ain't that some shit? Anyway, drummers are so hard to find, and you know how flaky they are. You aren't the drummer, are you?"

"No."

"Good, anyway, you know all drummers are crazy as hell. So, we're stuck. You boys are all we got. How soon can you get set up?"

Thunder Jay sighed and said, "We can be ready in thirty minutes. Maybe forty. But, Roger, I can't help but notice all of these people are cowboys. Now, we're a hardcore band, you know that, right?"

"Hardcore country?" Roger asked.

"No, just hardcore. I scream a lot."

Roger laughed, slapped Thunder Jay on the right shoulder, and said, "Aw, hell. I was just messing with you. That's what these folks like is the screaming and whatnot. See, we got us our own little scene here, you know. The kids like the hardcore, with all the moshing and the pushing around and the like, but they still like their wardrobe to show their roots. They couldn't very well cruise around the great state of Oklahoma looking like a bunch of hippies now could they?"

"No, I guess not," Thunder Jay replied. "But, when I came in there were already people calling me names."

"Hellfire, son, you gotta have thicker skin than that. They was probably just calling you names to see what you'd do, and maybe they're jealous because deep down, you know everyone's always jealous of the band. Now, get on out of here and get your equipment loaded up, hippy."

"All right, Roger," Thunder Jay said. He then cut through the crowd and stepped back onto the sidewalk, where he found the van surrounded by cowboys and cowgirls. Thunder Jay made his way through the crowd and into the van, where he explained the situation to everyone else. They reluctantly agreed to play, agreeing with Thunder Jay's distrust of Roger's assessment of the crowd.

Thunder Jay told the girls it would help if they set up the merch table by the door.

The girls carried two boxes of merchandise into the venue; three card tables were already set up beside the front door. They moved the tables together and then started digging through the boxes. Before they even knew what they had, cowboys were already walking up, hoping to be the first to buy something. The girls found samples of each of the four t-shirt designs and placed them on the table, and then Bugaboo removed and taped up a sign that read, "T-shirts $8.00." Bugaboo and Priscilla then sat down in metal chairs behind the middle card table and began selling Buckshot Vocabulary t-shirts.

Between sales, the girls watched Thunder Jay, Coyote B, Privilege, and Big Daddy make the trip from the front door to the stage and back several times. Fifteen minutes later, all four of the boys were on the stage, testing their equipment and making adjustments. The crowd took notice and started to push closer to the stage. People from outside were drawn in by the sounds of Coyote B testing his drum kit. They looked like they might start at any moment, when Thunder Jay jumped off the stage and ran back to the merch table. He leaned over the table and removed a set of keys from his jeans pocket.

Thunder Jay then placed the keys on the table between the girls and said, "OK, these are the keys to the van. Now, the crowd seems like they might be into it, but you never know. If we get in trouble, I want you girls to be ready to move, and I mean fast. OK? Just grab the money box and get to the van and start it. We'll be right behind you. Got it?"

The girls frowned and nodded. They didn't like the sound of being chased by cowboys.

Thunder Jay saw the concern on their faces and said, "Look, don't worry, it's just you can never be too careful. I'll feel better up there knowing you guys will be ready. It'll be fine."

They nodded and Thunder Jay made his way back onstage. Priscilla looked to Bugaboo and said: "I don't wanna run away from a bunch of cowboys."

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun," Bugaboo said. "Don't worry about it."

Priscilla walked to the front door and looked out to see that the van was in the same place. It was dark; Priscilla saw the headlights of cars on the street before returning to the table and sitting down. While she had been away, Bugaboo had removed the keys from the table and put them in her purse. Priscilla didn't like that, but she didn't want to keep the keys herself.

Minutes later, Big Daddy's guitar warm-up became more rhythmic, until the whole crowd was convinced that the show was beginning. Then, they broke into their first song, "Split finger," with an intensity that surprised both of the girls. The crowd started to sway to the beat, and before they got to the first chorus, a moshpit had formed in front of the stage. Bugaboo turned and smiled at Priscilla, who returned a look that said she wasn't convinced, yet.

As the band played, the people who were standing around the merch table moved into the crowd. This gave the girls time to relax and listen to the band, which they both hated. The girls liked some hardcore music, but not the kind that involved 100% screaming. They also liked Elvis, who had occupied all of their musical interests over the previous three years after their first trip to Graceland.

After the second song, which Thunder Jay had called, "Your growing problem," two cowboys came over to talk to the girls.

One of the cowboys, who wore a Stetson, asked, "What are a couple of fine looking ladies like you doing with a bunch of hippies like them? Y'all look too pretty to be here. Y'all should be one TV or something."

The girls hated cowboys but liked compliments. As Priscilla tried to ignore them, Bugaboo said, "We're using them for a ride across the country."

The cowboy laughed and said, "Oh, I see how it is. So, are any of those boys your boyfriends?"

Priscilla, afraid that Bugaboo might fall for one of the cowboys and get them in trouble, said, "Yeah, they all are. I usually take the singer and the guitar player and she takes the other two."

Bugaboo said, "No way, I take the singer and the guitar player. See, she has this thing for bass players, so she gets mad if I even look at him. And the drummer, well, she has this werewolf fantasy that you boys would probably like to hear about, but neither of you will have a chance because, well, you're not hairy enough."

The cowboy said, "Y'all girls are crazy, now." He then motioned to his silent partner and they walked back into the crowd just as the third song began. Bugaboo and Priscilla didn't even look at each other afterward, and they never mentioned their potential cowboy lovers again.

The show continued smoothly; after nine songs the boys took a break. Roger supplied them all with bottles of water and chairs to sit in near the door. They had never taken a break before during a show, but Roger had asked them to play for two hours, and the longest they had played before had been just over an hour. Since they still had two more shows on the tour, they didn't want Thunder Jay to lose his voice. They also needed time to prepare the rest of the set, as they had rushed to make a set list and they had to decide which covers they were going to play. All of the guys in the band hated playing covers, but they needed to if they were going to last two hours.

Thunder Jay and Big Daddy walked over to the girls and asked how sales had been and if they were enjoying the show. They lied that they were. When people put their lives into something, it's not fair to tell them it sucks.

Fifteen minutes later, the boys were back on the stage, doing a cover of a Louis Armstrong song that the girls, and most of the crowd, had never heard. They then went back into their own material, causing the crowd to once again get back in the moshing mood.

Priscilla watched the crowd. In her four years of going to shows, she had never seen anyone in a cowboy hat mosh before. The boys right in front of the stage were huge, looking like they had carried around stacks of hay their whole lives. Some of them were even cute, in a cowboy way. They wailed around and smacked each other, careful not to knock off anyone's hat: the hats were sacred.

Watching the crowd near the stage, Priscilla didn't notice the group of short cowboys filing through the front door. Roger had stopped charging after the first set, so anyone on the street could come in and watch the rest of the show. As they moved closer to the stage, they caught Priscilla's attention. She could see through the low light of the venue that they were all roughed up, some of them still bleeding from cuts on their faces. Some of their cowboy hats were bent into strange shapes, and a few of them had rips in their cowboy shirts.

When Bugaboo spotted the new cowboys, she put her hand in her purse and took out the keys. She then reached over and closed the money box, frowning at Priscilla and nodding toward the door. Priscilla nodded and they both watched the new cowboys closely.

Buckshot Vocabulary finished the song they had been playing. While Coyote B made some adjustments on his kit, the other boys took drinks from their water bottles.

When they were about to start their next song, one of the short cowboys called up from the middle of the crowd, "Hey, queers! Whyont y'all play some good music? Play some country, you queers!"

Some of the people in the crowd cheered in agreement, and one of the other short cowboys yelled, "Cotton eye Joe!"

Buckshot Vocabulary, a hardcore band from Berkeley, California, had a small repertoire of country songs for emergencies like the one they faced in The Enigma. Thunder Jay nodded to the other guys and Big Daddy broke into the opening riffs of "A Country Boy Can Survive."

Playing that song had gotten them out of trouble several times in the past. Even people who hate country music like that song, and many of them like it better than they like hardcore. They had never tried playing the song in Oklahoma, however, and being from California, they didn't understand the subtle differences between Oklahoma country music and Alabama country music.

When the short cowboy who had spoken up first rushed the stage, Bugaboo grabbed the money box and Priscilla's left arm. By the time they reached the door, eight tiny cowboys were on the stage, duking it out with Buckshot Vocabulary.

The girls ran across the empty sidewalk to the van. Bugaboo unlocked the driver's side door and they both piled in. Priscilla crawled over Bugaboo onto the passenger seat as Bugaboo started the van. Bugaboo threw the money box in the back.

From the van, the girls could see the riot inside The Enigma. Bugaboo, whose vision was better than Priscilla's because she actually wore her glasses, thought she could see a guitar swinging on the stage, but she wasn't sure.

"What are we going to do?" Priscilla asked.

Bugaboo put her foot on the brake and moved the automatic shifter into drive. Looking out the window at The Enigma, she said: "We have to wait. They might make it out of there."

"They're fucking dead," Priscilla said. "Let's go."

Just as Bugaboo was about to argue, a gang of tiny cowboys scrambled out of the club and onto the sidewalk. They spotted the van and surrounded it before the girls could make a move.

Bugaboo stepped on the gas and knocked three mini-cowboys out of the way. She then sped up 3rd street and somehow found the interstate. The van merged onto I-40 and headed west out of Oklahoma City.

Once they were safely on the interstate, Bugaboo said, "Holy shit! We got away. That ruled."

"Ruled?" Priscilla said. "We just stole a van and almost got killed by a bunch of midget cowboys."

"Those weren't midgets," Bugaboo said. "They were just short. I've seen midgets before."

"We're in a stolen van."

Bugaboo shook her head and said, "Look, we got away with a ride and some extra money. I don't think we did too bad this evening."

"This isn't our van," Priscilla said. "The police will be looking for it."

"No they won't. For the van to be reported stolen, someone from the band will have to report it, and that isn't going to happen anytime soon with all of those cowboys kicking the shit out of them. They're probably dead, anyway, and they fucking deserve it. Even I know you can't play Hank Williams, Junior, in Oklahoma. Bunch of jackasses."

Priscilla sighed and said, "What are we going to do, then?"

"We're going to get the fuck away from Oklahoma City and then get us a motel room and clean ourselves up and sleep. I'm taking a bath."

"OK, but don't fall asleep in there."

"I won't," Bugaboo said, as she moved into the far left lane to pass a small hatchback.

Chapter 17

Wednesday 3:08am (C.S.T.)

Jimmy Riggs and Stall Puckett had adjusted their sleep patterns over the years so that they were always ready for anything. They never knew when the boss would need them or how long they'd need to stay up to do the job, and their bodies knew it. They cruised along I-40, following a small blip on their GPS tracker, completely awake. The blip marked the location of Mick Aloha, the man they had previously known as the King Cobra. The boss had informed them just an hour earlier that although he sometimes used the name King Cobra, he usually went by Mick Aloha.

Jimmy looked back at the robot and asked, "Hey, Jackass. You awake? I gotta question for you."

The robot said, "What is it, Jimmy Riggs?"

"What do you make of these movements?"

The robot analyzed the data from the previous five hours. The target they were following had stopped right after leaving the encounter with Jake Bastion and stayed in the same place for a couple of hours. They had decided earlier that the truck had stopped so they could eat at a diner with the same coordinates. Then, it had left and headed west on I-40 again, going well under the speed limit. It had proceeded on I-40 for a few hours, and then it had stopped in Arkansas, apparently right on the interstate.

The robot said, "They stopped to celebrate getting the money from Mister Bastion at that diner we passed. Then, they tried to put as much distance as they could between Memphis and themselves. But, they're probably tired from all of the excitement, so they are on the side of the road sleeping. If we can make it to them before they leave, we can catch them asleep and maybe I won't have to kill anyone."

"How long till we catch up with them, Jackass?"

"Estimated time of collision is 38 minutes," the robot said.

Jimmy stepped on the gas and Stall Puckett continued to look out the passenger side window and wonder about the lives of all of the people who lived in the houses he saw beside the interstate.

Thirty-seven and a half minutes later they came upon a convoy, parked on the side of the interstate.

Jimmy slowed the car down and said, "This is it, boys. We got 'em. We'll be able to get back home before breakfast, and then I can sleep all day by the pool. Which one is it?"

Twelve trucks lined the emergency lane, and after a quick look the robot said, "The one in front. That's the one. We have to be smooth with this thing, though. I'm a robot, and I can kick anything's ass, but the last thing we need is for a convoy of truckers to be chasing after us, especially since they'd kill you guys and I'd have to explain the whole thing to Mr. Bastion."

"All right, I'll pull up behind this last one here, and then we can walk up to the truck and surprise 'em," Jimmy said.

Jimmy pulled the car in behind the last of the big rigs, turned off the lights, and killed the ignition. He and Stall Puckett then exited the car and waited for the robot, who had trouble getting out of the car. The robot finally freed itself and they started walking past the back trucks.

When the Witch Doctor's truck was just three trucks away, the lights and ignitions of all of the trucks came on simultaneously. In seconds, the convoy was moving past Jimmy, Stall, and the robot. They tried to chase the trucks in vain, and then turned around and headed back for the car. Once again, Jimmy and Stall had to wait for the robot as it tried to get back into the vehicle. Jimmy, tired of waiting and seeing his quarry disappear, stepped on the gas. The robot flew out the back door and onto the highway.

"What the fuck are you doing, man?" Stall asked, as Jimmy punched the gas and got back on the interstate.

Jimmy said, "I'm supposed to find this Mick Aloha guy, and he's gettin away. Now, I can't have no robot keepin' me from the prize, so I had to ditch him."

"The boss'll be pissed, man."

"No he won't, cause I'm about to get us our man," Jimmy said. "If we went back empty handed with no robot, maybe he'd be pissed. But, hell, he won't care about that thing if we get Mick Aloha for him. Anyway, that piece of shit robot can take care of itself."

"Goddam!" Stall exclaimed as he looked out the passenger side window. The robot was running beside the car. The red light that lined the robot's mouth flashed rapidly, indicating it was speaking. Without thinking, Stall rolled down his window, letting in a rush of air and the words of the robot.

The robot, whose voice configurations gave him the ability to sound angry, said, "Pull that car over. You can't do this without me. If you don't pull over, I'll kill you. I have lasers."

Jimmy, with his right foot flat against the floorboard, tried to push it down harder to get more speed out of the vehicle. The car had nothing else left, but continued along at 90 miles per hour.

Stall Puckett said, "Come on, Jimmy. We ain't gonna get away from this thing. Just pull over."

Over the rush of wind, Jimmy said, "Stall, that sombitch is running ninety miles an hour, and he probably ain't even topped out, yet. Now, if he can run so goddam fast, and his goal is to kill that Mick Aloha guy, why didn't he just run after the truck instead of trying to get in the car with us?"

Jimmy and Stall spotted the convoy before them. The robot continued to yell at them, with the anger mode on its voice chip at maximum.

Stall said, "Hell if I know, man. I ain't no robot expert. I guess it wants to do the job with us."

Jimmy had only the second moment of clarity in his lifetime and said, "We're part of the job, man. We're part of the fuckin' job. If that robot just had to kill that Mick Aloha, then it would have taken off and done it without our help. But, that sombitch came back to the car, and hell, it nearly let Mick Aloha get away. We were right there beside the trucks, so he could have caught up with them easy. I think that sombitch is supposed to kill us after it kills that Mick Aloha."

"I'll be damned, Jimmy, I think you're right," Stall Puckett said as he looked over at the robot, which appeared to be struggling. "I don't think that thing's made to go ninety, man, looks like it's wearing down. You think it really has lasers?"

Jimmy smiled and said, "No, man, lasers aren't real. Now, I have a plan. I'm going to take us past that convoy, and we'll see if that robot chooses to take out Mick Aloha or stay with us. If it stays with us, I'll try to run it over. If it goes after Mick Aloha, I'm going to keep going west. You ever been to Cali?"

"No."

"You might like it."

Except for the convoy, the stretch of highway in front of them was empty. The entire convoy rode in the two right lanes, so Jimmy pulled into the far left lane and started passing trucks, with the robot still beside them.

When they had passed half of the convoy and were nearing the Witch Doctor's truck, Stall leaned out the window and said, "That's it, robot! That's the one with Mick Aloha right there!"

The robot, still running at 90 miles per hour, said, "I know that, you dumb ass. I'm a robot."

"What the hell?" Stall said. "It didn't go after the truck."

"Boy, let me tell you a little somethin' about robotics," Jimmy said. "See, they program in the tasks for those sombitches and they have to give them a priority. You can't just tell a goddam robot to mow the lawn, paint the house, and wash the car. If you tell a robot something like that, it would blow its mind. Sombitch'll try to do all three at once and probably break down."

Stall interrupted, "So, how do they do it? Just say do this first, do that second, and the other thing third?"

Jimmy chuckled, realizing his knowledge of robotics far exceeded that of his partner, and said, "Well, not really, because something might happen and the robot might not be able to do one of those things. If you tell it to wash the car first, and then the car is stolen, the robot will sit around and wonder where the car went without doing the other two things. So, you have to give them priorities, because most of the time jobs overlap. I imagine ol' Jake Bastion told that sombitch that its number one priority was to keep an eye on us the whole time and then to kill us. The second priority was probably to make sure Mick Aloha was dead. So, it wants Mick Aloha dead, but its more important for it to follow us than it is for it to kill Mick Aloha."

"Maybe it doesn't want to kill us. Maybe its just programmed to keep an eye on us is all."

"Naw, I think it means to kill us. Probably supposed to make it look like an accident, though."

"What in the hell makes you think it wants to kill us?"

"Goddam, boy, don't you know nothin? Let's us imagine its just supposed to keep an eye on us and kill Mick Aloha. Now, if that's true, then we're supposed to survive and go back to work for Mr. Bastion. But, with those priorities, there's a good chance we'll figure it out, like were doing right now. Now, Mr. Bastions a lot of things, but he ain't stupid. He knew we'd come a point where we'd see the robots real intentions. And, if he knew that would happen then he must have told that sombitch to kill us."

"Goddam, that's some smart thinking, man," Stall said.

"I have my moments," Jimmy said; he looked in his rear view mirror at the disappearing headlights of the convoy. He then moved into the passing lane to go around a small station wagon. The robot moved directly behind them, keeping up the pace with ease.

When they were clear of the station wagon, Stall asked, "Well, what are we going to do?"

"What's this we shit? I'm going to kill that fucking robot and then keep heading west, maybe hook up with my cousin down in Bakersfield. I got to hide out for a while so Mr. Bastion can't track me down."

"Can I come with you?"

"Aw hell, I don't know," Jimmy said. "It's tough enough hiding out when you're just one person. Well, let's get rid of our trailer and then we can talk about it."

Stall looked back at the robot, which ran right behind them, and asked, "Well, how we gonna get rid of that sombitch? Shoot it?"

"No, man. It's fuckin' bulletproof. We'd be more likely to hurt ourselves than that sombitch if we shot at it. We gotta think like a robot. What's it expect us to do?"

"I don't know, man," Stall said. "I ain't no robot."

"All right, well, we know it don't think we're very smart," Jimmy said. "And, well hell, it probably ain't too far from the truth. So, we gotta think of something beyond our mind capabilities."

"OK, that sounds pretty good," Stall said.

"Now, in the position we're in now, with that sombitch right behind us, we don't have many options. I guess our first option would be to just stop, and hope the sombitch falls over tryin' to stop so fast. The other is throwin' shit at it. I guess another thing would be if we could find a cop, we know that sombitch don't wanna be seen by no cop. We'd probably all be taken in, but hell, at least we'd be alive."

"I can't do no more time," Stall said.

"Well, fair enough. What do you think we should do?"

Stall looked back at their pursuer again, its metal body lit by the flashes of streetlights as they passed an exit. Although the robot's face wasn't designed to show emotion, it looked angry.

"You sure about the lasers? I mean, that they don't exist?" Stall asked.

"Naw, they got lasers for them sons of bitches, but if your robot is caught out and about with any weapons, that's pretty much life in the slammer for the owner."

"Really?" Stall asked, scratching his head like he'd seen on TV when people were thinking of something clever.

Jimmy checked the rear view mirror and spotted the robot behind them. He thought about slamming on the brakes just to see what would happen. Jimmy was afraid the robot would run right over them, and he didn't want to die. Jimmy loved life.

Jimmy said, "All right, I got an idea. There ain't no way were going to outrun that sombitch in this car. I bet he's got one of them GPS trackers in this thing, anyway, so even if we shake him, it ain't gonna be no good. We have to ditch the car, but when we ditch the car we're going to need some distance between us and that sombitch robot. So, here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna take 'er into the passing lane right quick and slam on the brakes, right in a curve in the road. Hopefully, the sombitch'll run off the road out in a field or something, and while it's tryin to find its way back, we'll torch the car."

"Torch the car?"

"Yeah, it ain't no good to us, anyway," Jimmy said. "So, we'll set it on fire and run different ways. That sombitch'll think we're still in the car and by the time he figures out we ain't, we'll be way up the road and even if he spots us, he won't know which one of us to follow anyway. We'll have to do it close to a city, I reckon, so we can both find places to hide."

Although he was worried about leaving the car and running away from the robot on foot, Stall agreed. They rode silently in the car for thirty minutes, until they approached the first exit for Little Rock.

Jimmy said, "Sombitch'll never find us in Little Rock. Now, here's the phone number of my buddy in Bakersfield. If you make your way out there, you give him a bell and he'll take care of you."

Jimmy handed Stall the piece of paper with a fake phone number. If Stall had taken time to notice, he would have seen that the number had a Manhattan area code and too many digits.

Jimmy eyed Stall and said, "All right, let's do this thing, ol' son. I think the back seat on this thing folds down so you can get into the trunk. Can you reach back there and pull the extra gas can out?"

Stall nodded, pulled the backseat down, and found a red gas can filled almost to the top.

"Now, start spreading the gas on the back seat," Jimmy said.

As Stall poured gasoline all over the back seat, Jimmy used the power window controls to lower all of the windows in the car. When Stall had finished, he threw the empty gas can onto the backseat.

The car reeked of gasoline; both Jimmy and Stall found themselves wanting to get out of the car as soon as possible. Stall had been caught by his parents sniffing gasoline as a child, and he didn't think they'd ever forgiven him.

Jimmy said, "All right, one more thing. Get naked."

"Naked?"

"Yeah, it has to look like we died. Now, that sombitch robot'll be snoopin' around the remains of the car, looking for any proof that we were in it. So, it has to be our clothes."

"You're crazy, man. It'll be lookin' for our remains, not clothes. If it finds my shirt but not my body, it'll know I escaped. You ain't makin' no sense."

"Goddam it, Stall. I'm using reverse logic here. Don't you understand nothin? We can't very well leave our bodies in the car, can we? No, we can't. So, we gotta leave something to slow that robot down at least a little. You gotta think like me, ol' son. Now, if the robot finds our clothes, its sure to keep looking for our remains in the embers. That might take it a long time. While it's searching for DNA evidence and all that, we'll be halfway to downtown Little Rock, now won't we?"

"I reckon."

"You reckon? You better goddam believe it," Jimmy said. "Now, get naked."

Stall, unable to contradict Jimmy Riggs' superior logic, got naked. He tried to stop with his underwear, but Jimmy told him he had to go all the way. Minutes later, Stall sat in the passenger seat completely naked. Jimmy, who had been homophobic since his parents had divorced when he was seventeen, couldn't even look at Stall's face.

Jimmy said, "All right, Puckett, now grab the wheel. I'm going to put 'er on cruise control, and I'm going to do the same. Don't you go trying to sneak a peek, you queer."

Stall grabbed the wheel and looked straight forward through the front windshield. He knew he'd had sex with women a few hundred times more than Jimmy had, but he didn't want to argue. He knew he'd be away from Jimmy within minutes.

The robot flipped to infrared, but it still couldn't make out what was happening in the car. There was a lot of movement, and it had seen Stall move to the backseat earlier, but it still couldn't figure out what they were trying to do.

The robot tried to prepare for several scenarios. It knew the car would run out of gas before its robotic battery ran out, unless the car could run for three and a half millennia on a tank of gas, so it wasn't worried about losing them. It never worried, anyway. It was a robot. It knew, however, that there was a possibility that Jimmy and Stall might try to do something drastic, as most humans liked to do. The robot wanted to be able to tell Jake Bastion that it had killed them, not some accident or act of God.

Jimmy took the wheel back from Stall and prepared to put the plan into action. They both sat naked in the car, looking directly at the road in front of them. They had passed through the heart of Little Rock, and were already starting to move way away from the city. The traffic had increased but was now starting to dwindle. Jimmy looked in the rear view mirror to see the robot speeding along and a handful of headlights farther back. He then looked forward to see a slight curve in the road ahead.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Jimmy said, "All right, it looks like there's a curve up ahead. You ready to do this?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Stall said. He held his wallet in his left hand. In his right hand he held a two-dollar lighter. His clothes sat in a pile on the floor.

As they approached the curve, Jimmy turned the wheel sharply to the left, moving them into the passing lane. As he did so, he slammed on the brakes, creating a loud screeching noise and causing smoke to rise from the tires. They both looked to the right to see the robot speed past them and out into a nearby cornfield that sat north of the interstate.

Jimmy said, "Woooooo! Oughta teach that sombitch. Now, light it up."

The car stopped in the median and both front doors flew open as Stall set the backseat on fire. Flames shot out the back windows and then up to the front seats as Jimmy ran southwest and Stall ran directly south.

As Jimmy ran, he wished he had kept his shoes on; the tobacco field he crossed was rockier than he had thought it would be. Although it was still dark, he could tell the sun was on its way. He could see hints of sunlight when he looked back at the car, which was burning brilliantly.

Stall ran a half mile into the tobacco patch and then stopped. He knew the limits of his education, but he also knew that he had played war as a child enough to understand that running directly away from someone or something always proved fruitless. He dropped to his knees in the shoulder high tobacco and waited. Stall knew the tobacco would cover his infrared and heat traces, so the robot would have to come out and physically find him.

After sitting in the dirt for several minutes, letting his breathing return to normal, Stall decided to take a look. He raised his eyes just above the closest plant to spot the car burning against the night. Beside the car, against the backdrop of flames, Stall saw the robot's silhouette. It was spraying something onto the fire. Several trucks had stopped along the highway; Stall wondered if any of them contained Mick Aloha. He started crawling.

Noticing the crowd of truckers surrounding it, the robot turned and said, "No problem here, folks. Just a small car fire. Nothing to worry about. This car was abandoned here on the highway, and I was ordered to come and fix it and then drive it back to town. Well, I guess some kids got here first and set it on fire. You know how kids are."

The truckers nodded and agreed that they knew how kids were, some of them thinking about their own kids many miles away. The truckers and other bystanders all walked back to their vehicles, apparently forgetting that it was against the law for robots to drive, as the robot extinguished the rest of the flames.

When the robot was sure that the humans were all leaving, it started digging though the smoldering car for evidence. In the remains of the front seat, if found pieces of Jimmy's and Stall's clothing. That explained why the GPS tracking devices, which it had placed in their clothing, had stopped working. As it looked through the remains, it realized that Jimmy and Stall had escaped the fire and that they were completely naked.

"This should be interesting," the robot said to itself. It then jumped onto the top of the car to get a better look of the surrounding fields.

The robot flipped to infrared. In a field south of the interstate, it spotted a moving figure. It had hoped to spot both of the escapees. By the man's stride, however, it could tell he was Jimmy, and the main objective of the whole mission was to destroy Jimmy Riggs.

The robot sped across the field and caught up with Jimmy near the edge of the tobacco field, where the field met a small clearing.

Hearing the robot approach, Jimmy dove to the ground. The robot stood over him and laughed.

"Where did you think you were going?" the robot asked.

"Screw you, you sombitch," Jimmy said, as he aimed his pistol at the robot's head and fired. The bullet ricocheted off the robot's face, leaving no mark.

"You can't shoot me, you dumbass. I'm bulletproof. I have a present for you from Jake Bastion."

The robot raised its right arm over Jimmy's head. Jimmy, determined to die with dignity, looked the robot in the eyes. As the arm was about to come down, the robot's head flew off and its body stood motionless.

For the first time in his life, disbelief caused Jimmy to close his eyes and open them again to make sure what he had seen was real. When he opened his eyes, the robot's headless body stood in the same place with its arm raised in the air.

Jimmy heard some rustling in the tobacco beside him and then felt a hand clutch his arm. He looked up to see an old man wearing a John Deere cap.

"Don't worry. This one ain't Japanese, so it ain't gonna explode," the man said. "You all right, son?"

"Yeah, I guess I should thank you. How'd you do that?"

The man smiled, pulled Jimmy to his feet, and said, "Aw, hell. There'll be plenty of time to talk about that. Goddam, boy, you're naked as a jaybird!"

Jimmy said, "Yeah, I had to get rid of my clothes to outsmart that sombitch robot."

"Didn't look like it was doing you much good," the old man said, laughing and slapping Jimmy on the shoulder. "Let's go to the house and get you some clothes."

They didn't speak as they walked to the house, which sat over a mile from the interstate. Jimmy considered running, but the shotgun in the farmer's right hand quieted all thoughts of flight. Images from movies Jimmy had seen about crazy farmers kept popping up in his head.

Would the guy fatten him up and then eat him? Or, would he hold Jimmy prisoner and sexually abuse him? Jimmy didn't want to be sexually abused. Or, he thought, maybe there's a hot farmer's daughter and he'll tell me to stay away from her, but the sexual tension will just be too much and we'll succumb to our primal urges and he'll catch us and kill me.

They arrived at the modest house as the sun started to come over the horizon. The tobacco field ended right in front of the house, and woods covered the land behind the house. From the farmer's front yard, Jimmy could see only nature.

The smoke rising from the house's brick chimney improved Jimmy's mood, as his lack of clothing and the autumn wind didn't mix well. The farmer showed him inside, and after placing a towel on the sofa, offered him a seat.

Jimmy thought the place smelled like his grandmother's house. The front door led directly into the living room, which was furnished with the sofa on which he sat, two rocking chairs, and three small tables covered with family pictures. Several paintings, which looked like they had been stolen from motel rooms, were on the walls.

Looking to his left, Jimmy could see a tiled floor in the next room, which made him think it was a kitchen. A metallic clang from that room surprised him, but then the noise that followed made him realize that someone was fixing breakfast.

The man sat down in one of the rocking chairs and said, "Well, boy, you hungry?"

"Yes, sir. I sure am," Jimmy said.

The old man called out, "Mother, we have another for breakfast."

A woman's voice from the kitchen replied, "Wonderful!" Jimmy heard the activity in the kitchen intensify.

The man looked at Jimmy and asked, "Well, I guess first I'd like to know your name."

"Jimmy Riggs."

"Well, Jimmy, it's nice to meet you. My name's Joseph. Now, what were you doing in my tobacco field?"

"Sir, I'll be happy to answer your questions," Jimmy said. "But, I feel real uncomfortable sitting here talking to you without any clothes on." Jimmy eyed the man's right hands, which slid across the arm rest on his rocking chair and around the barrel of the shotgun at his side.

The man said, "I told you I'd give you some clothes, and I intend to. But, you was trespassing my property, and with a robot no less. I think I have the right to know why before I go and start giving you clothing."

"Well, sir. Me and my partner."

"Your partner?"

"Yeah, my business associate," Jimmy said. "Anyway, we was being chased by that robot for miles in our car, so to get away from it I slammed on the brakes and set the car on fire to distract the robot while we was taking off. Anyway, it caught up with me and was about to kill me when you came along. Thank you, again."

"Well, you're welcome again. Now, what happened to your partner?"

Jimmy put his palms up and said, "I don't know, sir. We took off in different directions."

"Hmmm. And, why the hell are you naked?"

"Well, sir, we wanted to throw the robot off as much as possible, so I thought leaving our clothes in the burning car might confuse it enough for us to get further away."

As Jimmy finished speaking, a thin old woman with gray hair walked into the room. She had sharp hazel eyes and wore a flowered polyester dress. Her eyes widened when she spotted the naked man sitting in her parlor.

"You ain't got no clothes on, boy," she said, smiling.

Jimmy stood up, covering himself with both hands, and said, "Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry about that. Please forgive me."

"Hell, I don't mind if you don't mind. I know my husband here don't mind. He was in the military, you know."

"Yes, ma'am.”

Joseph looked up at his wife and said, "Think we can find this boy some clothes?"

She smiled and said, "I reckon we can. What's your name, boy?"

"Jimmy, ma'am."

"Jimmy, call me Mother," she said. "I'll be right back with some clothes for you."

Jimmy watched her walk to the back bedroom and close the door. She returned seconds later with a pair of tattered jeans and a large flannel shirt.

"Go ahead, try them on," she said, handing him the clothes. Jimmy felt self-conscious about dressing in front of them, but realized he was already naked anyway, so it didn't matter. As he put on the pants, he found several pieces of straw on the inside, which he removed and placed on a small table beside the sofa.

"Sorry about that," Mother said, collecting the straw and placing it in a wastebasket.

Jimmy put on the large shirt and buttoned it up. He thought he looked foolish wearing the old clothes, but felt more comfortable than he had before.

Mother smiled and said, "That works just fine, now don't it? Now, you boys come on in and get you something to eat."

Mother's spread included sausage, bacon, fried potatoes, homemade biscuits, and an assortment of jams and jellies. During the meal they spoke little, only to ask for something to be passed or to compliment Mother on her cooking. Mother smiled the whole time, eating very little of her own cooking.

When they had finished eating, Jimmy thanked her and asked if he could help with the dishes. She refused and told him he needed to save his energy.

Jimmy followed Joseph back into the living room and sat on the sofa.

Jimmy said, "Well, sir, I'd like to thank you for saving me and feeding me a fine breakfast, but I really oughta be on my way. I think I've troubled you enough, and well, I need to get back home."

"Oh, you've been no trouble at all. None at all. We're always happy to have visitors. Now, I know you need to be on your way, but you ain't gonna be no count for traveling if you don't get you some sleep. We have a spare bedroom that stays real dark, so why don't you get you some shut eye and then by the time you wake up it'll be supper time. You can get you something to eat and then you can leave with a full belly. How's that sound?"

The idea sounded good to Jimmy, but he still didn't trust the old couple and didn't want to leave himself vulnerable while sleeping in their home. He decided to leave, but he suddenly felt sleepy. Jimmy felt his body shutting down against his will, and although he tried to fight it, his eyes started to shut.

Through his half-closed lids, he saw Joseph smiling.

"What's happening to me?" Jimmy asked, as he struggled to keep his head up.

Joseph said, "We got a little job for you."

Jimmy collapsed on the sofa.

When Jimmy awoke, bright sunlight kept him from immediately opening his eyes. He thought he heard the faint sound of highway traffic. He couldn't move his arms or legs; they were bound.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the sunlight, Jimmy found himself in the tobacco field, bound to a wooden cross, which stood ten feet high. He faced the interstate, which he estimated was about a half mile away. Looking down at himself, he saw that his baggy clothes had been stuffed with straw, and when he looked up he could see a wide-brimmed hat on his head.

"I'm a goddam scarecrow," he said, struggling against the elastic bands holding him to the cross.

Jimmy looked around the field and spotted Joseph and Mother digging up weeds a quarter of a mile to his left.

"Hey!" he called out. "Goddam it, this ain't funny! Hey! Joseph! Mother! Get me off this goddam thing!"

Jimmy stopped screaming when he saw them walking toward him. Several minutes later they approached, each holding a hoe.

"Well, look who's awake," Joseph said, as he and Mother walked up to the cross and stopped.

"What in the hell is going on here? Let me down, goddam it," Jimmy said, hoping the strength in his voice would hide his fear.

"Now, that's enough out of you," Joseph said. "I want you to be quiet, now, while I tell you what's happening."

"What in the hell is happening?" Jimmy asked.

"I told you to be quiet."

Joseph reached into a front pocket of his overalls and removed a small remote control. Jimmy saw that it had just one button in the center. Joseph moved his thumb over the button and pressed it.

Electricity ran through Jimmy's body, shaking him violently. It ended seconds later; Jimmy gasped for air. Joseph shook his head and put the remote back into his pocket.

"All right, now I think you're in a better position to listen. I know you can't see behind you, but there's a car battery back there and the ends are attached to your feet with electrical tape. I have a remote and Mother here does, too, so if you're disrespectful or speak out of turn, you know what'll happen. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Jimmy said.

"Now, I want you to understand this one thing most of all. You are ours. We own you. Don't think about trying to get away, or yelling for help, or anything stupid like that. You are ours. If we decide to let you go, we will do so of our own accord. I saved your life, so you are ours. Do you understand?"

Jimmy said, "Yes, sir."

Joseph said, "I want to hear you say it."

"I'm yours."

"Good. Now, you might be wondering why we have you out here tied to this cross. Let me first tell you there ain't nothing religious about it. You ain't no messiah or anything. You're our scarecrow. Now, you're probably thinking that once Mother and I go back to the house, you'll scream your head off and the folks on the interstate will hear you and come a-running. Let me tell you, that ain't gonna happen. Those people can't here a thing because of all the traffic noise. And, from this distance, if all the cars stopped and folks had the windows down, they could probably hear you screaming, but they wouldn't know what you were saying. They'd probably think yous just a farmer yelling back to the house. Now, we had a boy up on this thing for over five years, and he screamed his head off and the only good it did him was to give him headaches."

"What happened to him?" Jimmy asked.

Electricity ran through Jimmy's body again.

"I told you to keep quiet. Now, I want to tell you why we got you out here like this, so you'll be able to understand a little better how to keep us happy. The first is, we got crows."

Jimmy knew crows didn't like tobacco, but he knew if he spoke he would get shocked again.

Joseph said, "I know you've probably got enough sense to know that crows don't normally take after tobacco, but these sons of bitches is different. We got some crows that are crazy, and last year they damn near chewed up the whole crop. Doesn't say much for the feller who was in your place before, now does it? Well, we ain't gonna let that happen this year. Your job is to scare them crows off, and to report any crows that you see. Now, this position you're in gives you a view of a good part of the field. They tend to go after this area, since they're smart enough not to get too close to the house. If you see some crows out in the field and you can't scare 'em off, we're gonna give you an alarm so you can let us know. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, I said there was a couple reasons we got you. The other is that we like that people can see you but you can't get away. Just think of the thousands and thousands of people who are gonna see you everyday and aren't gonna do a thing for you. It kind of excites us, especially Mother here. She likens it to killing someone and then going to the funeral and offering your condolences to the family, without them knowin' you did it. We been doing this for years, and well, it makes things a lot more interesting around here."

As Mother stood staring a Jimmy with a smile on her face, Joseph walked behind the cross and brought up a metal stepladder. He placed it to the left of the cross and stepped up so that he was at eye level with Jimmy. Joseph reached behind Jimmy's left arm and pulled up a small tube, which he strapped to the cross with more elastic, leaving the tip near Jimmy's face.

Joseph said, "This is for your water. Every morning we'll leave you enough water for the day, and then we'll change it after dark. If you're good, sometimes we might put a little more than water in there. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Joseph then stepped down and moved the ladder to the right side. He repeated the same procedure, but this time brought a small switch near Jimmy's face.

Joseph said, "Now, this here is the Crow Alarm. You see some crows that you can't handle, you hit the switch and me and Mother will come a-runnin'. Got it?"

"Got it."

"All right. Now, we'll bring you two meals a day. One before the sun comes up, and one after it goes down. I know you're probably used to three meals a day, but these will be big meals, and well, you ain't gonna need much energy, so you'll get used to it. And, there's one more thing. The bathroom. Sorry to do this to you, but there's really no other way that we can think of. You're wearing a diaper. I ain't never changed a diaper in my life and I don't intend to, so Mother here will handle that department. Now, she'll need to loosen your legs to do that, so that's when well let you have your exercise. You can take ten minutes in the morning and ten minutes at night to move your legs however you please. Once you've done that, we'll tie 'em back up and then loosen one arm at a time. Eventually, you'll get used to it. You understand?"

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good, now the sun's about to go down, and when it does, we'll be back out here with your first meal."

Joseph and Mother gave him slight bows and walked back to the house a half mile behind Jimmy's cross.

"I'm a goddam scarecrow," Jimmy said. "Goddam it, Jimmy Riggs, think, boy, think. What the hell are you gonna do?"

Jimmy watched the traffic on the interstate and considered his options. He realized, after some heavy soul searching, that he had no options. Even if he escaped, one of Jake Bastion's boys would be after him. As he thought more, he realized that being held against his will and being forced to be a scarecrow might be the best thing that could have happened to him. Even if Jake's boys went and checked the farmer's house, they would find no trace of him. And, they would never suspect the scarecrow. The Scarecrow. Jimmy liked that name, but he thought it might have already been taken.

When the sun had just dropped below the horizon, Jimmy heard some movement behind him. Seconds later, Joseph and Mother stepped up beside him, wishing him a good evening.

"How you holdin' up there, Scarecrow?" Mother asked.

"Pretty good, ma'am, pretty good."

Joseph lifted his shotgun, aimed it at Jimmy's head, and said, "Now, I know that nobody likes to have a gun pointed at them, but I don't really have a choice. Mother here's going to undo your legs and change your diaper, and I don't want any funny business. If you try anything, I'll blow your head off. You understand?"

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Mother had been setting up the stepladder while they were talking, and then removed the electrodes from Jimmy's feet. She then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

Jimmy felt dirty when this happened; he had never had an old woman undo his pants before. He decided he would have to get used to it as she pulled his pants down and then off. Jimmy was relieved to have the pants off because the straw had been irritating his legs.

Jimmy looked down to see the white adult diaper. He had almost expected to see a baby's diaper, but then realized that there were probably no babies his size. Mother reached up and removed his diaper.

"Sorry about that," Jimmy said, as Mother looked into the diaper. Joseph kept the shotgun pointed at his head.

"It's only natural, young man," Mother said as she placed the diaper in a clear plastic trash bag and removed a water bottle from the knapsack around her neck.

"Now, stay with me, here. This might be a little cold," she said.

Mother sprayed him with soapy water and scrubbed him with a sponge she had taken out of the knapsack. Jimmy felt embarrassed as she cleaned his entire lower body, but it felt good to be clean again.

Mother placed the wet sponge into the trash bag, which she then dropped on the ground. She then took out a different bottle and sprayed clean water all over Jimmy's lower body. When she had washed away all of the soap, she took a towel out of the knapsack and dried him off.

"That straw botherin' you?" she asked.

Jimmy said, "Yeah, a little bit."

She removed a bottle of lotion from the knapsack and began applying it to the red areas on Jimmy's legs.

"Well, you should get used to it," she said. "If you don't, we might have some other options for you."

Mother smiled and took a fresh diaper from her knapsack and slid it up Jimmy's legs. She then put his pants back on and stepped down the ladder. She placed the knapsack on the ground and picked up a black trash bag. Mother then climbed back up the ladder and started removing straw from the bag and stuffing it into Jimmy's pants.

She stepped off the ladder again and said, "All right, son, you might want to move your legs a bit as you won't get another chance until tomorrow morning."

Jimmy moved his legs for several minutes, eventually settling on a bicycle pattern. Then, Mother strapped his legs back to the cross and released one arm at a time, giving him time to move each.

She then fed him the best steak he had ever eaten. After reattaching the electrodes, Mother and Joseph said goodbye and disappeared into the darkness.

Jimmy turned his head to the left and took a sip of water; it tasted so good it had to be well water. He then watched the traffic on the interstate and wondered if anyone would ever find him. Jimmy knew if Jake Bastion sent another robot after him, it would find him. The robot could pick up heat traces, and Jimmy's face remained uncovered.

As Jimmy contemplated all of these things in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 18

Thursday 9:42am (C.S.T.)

Back on the interstate, behind the wheel of his eighteen-wheeler, the Witch Doctor looked like he was back home. He smiled the first several miles, making connections on his CB and getting a feel for the traffic.

The Witch Doctor looked over at Apocalypse Dowell, who sat on the floor on a pillow he had taken from the motel, and said, "Son, let me tell you a little something about trucking. You have to feel the traffic. It has a vibration or a frequency or something to it. Now, when you start out on the highway, like we just have, if you can get a feel for the frequency or whatever, you can make good time hassle-free. But, if you try to fight the vibrations, you'll end up in a ditch somewhere. Make any sense?"

Apocalypse Dowell said, "Yeah, that makes sense. It's kind of like resonance."

The Witch Doctor gave him a look that asked for an explanation.

Apocalypse Dowell said, "Well, if you have two waves, and they vibrate at the same frequency, then they resonate. They kind of work together. It's kind of like this bridge up in Washington. The wind made these vibrations with a certain frequency, and they matched the frequency of the bridge, so that created a lot of motion on the bridge which destroyed it."

"Now, I'm not talking about destroying no bridge," the Witch Doctor said. "I'm talking about flowing with the traffic. Destroying a bridge, now, that ain't no count. Anyway, pretty day, ain't it?"

"Yeah, it sure is," Apocalypse Dowell said. "Witch Doctor, how long have you been a trucker?"

"Aw hell, going on fourteen years, now."

"Fourteen years. In all that time, you ever see something you couldn't explain?"

"Couldn't explain? You mean like ghosts?"

"Yeah, I guess. Anything weird like that?"

The Witch Doctor nodded his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him, and said, "Boy, we all see ghosts. We all see things we can't explain. Anyone out there who tells you he ain't never seen anything he can't explain is lying. Now, on the road, you see all kinds of things. Sometimes, though, you just have to mark them off as fatigue. You reach a point, when you've been on the road for a while, when you can't completely trust your eyes. So, maybe I've really seen something and maybe I haven't. I can't really tell you. What I can tell you, though, are some of the ideas that travel around from trucker to trucker."

"What do you mean?" Apocalypse Dowell asked.

"Well, I know we got this Internet and all, but hell, you cant trust most of what you see on it. Now, us truckers, we're kind of like our own web. We hear about something and tell a couple truckers and, hell, it's around the country in a day or two if it carries right."

"Can you tell me one of those?"

"Sure," the Witch Doctor said. "One I heard just a few months ago started from a trucker up in Vermont, I think. Anyway, he had this idea he called Dead Hands. Now, the idea goes like this: he says that the first part of a person to die is their hands, so by looking at someone's hands, you can tell if they're going to die soon."

"You mean like palm reading?" Apocalypse Dowell asked. He hated palm readers and all other mystics, so he prepared himself for disappointment.

"No, not like palm readers at all. That's a bunch of smoke. You do this by just looking at the overall hand, not the palm. Now, it's supposed to work for people who are going to die of both natural and unnatural causes. If the person's about to go, the hand looks dead already."

"Have you ever seen it?"

"No, I haven't, but I only heard about it a couple months ago, so I haven't had many chances to test it. But, I have seen young people with hands that looked like they belonged to old people, so I'm beginning to wonder if it might be true."

Apocalypse Dowell said, "OK, I'll keep an eye out for that."

"You do that. And, if you see your own hands going, be extra careful."

"Okay. Well, have you seen any ghosts or anything like that?"

The Witch Doctor laughed, moving around a small car as he did so, and said, "Yeah, I have. But, those would be nighttime stories, wouldn't they?"

"I guess they'd be scarier at night, but I'm not so interested in being scared. I just like good stories."

"Well, son, I got all kinds of ghost stories since I been out on the road so long. Like I said, every trucker does. Lots of times they pretend to be hitchhikers and then disappear, stuff like that."

"You ever picked up a hitchhiker who disappeared?"

The Witch Doctor laughed and said, "Aw, hell, of course. Hundreds, maybe. I figure half of the hitchhikers out there are ghosts. That's why I don't care to pick em up anymore. You and your friend were an exception, of course. You ain't no ghost, are you?"

"No, I'm not. Mick Aloha might be, though. Maybe he's a demon. Anyway, can you tell me about one?"

"Well, hell. Let me think. Oh, I got one for you. You're from Kentucky, ain't you?"

"Yeah."

"You know where Hart County is?"

"Yeah, in high school I played basketball there a few times."

The Witch Doctor nodded and said, "Tough sons of bitches, ain't they? Anyway, right when I was getting started in the business, I was making a run from Pikeville, way out on the eastern side of Kentucky, to Hart County, right in the center."

"What were you carrying?"

"Well, at the time I didn't know. It was kind of under the table, so I took the back roads the whole way to avoid the stations. I set out at noon and made it in Munfordville just about as the sun was setting. It was late in the fall, maybe November, so it got pretty chilly at night. Well, my instructions was to go to Johnson Springs, this place about three miles outside town."

A transmission came through on the Witch Doctor's CB. He picked up the mic and said, "Railmaker, this is the Witch Doctor, you gotta west bounder."

"Mercy sakes, Witch Doctor, how we lookin?"

"Railmaker, you gotta a bear takin' pictures near the 208 marker. Other than that, you're clear to that Oklahoma City, over."

"Much obliged, Witch Doctor. Keep the dirty side down and the shiny side up, over and out."

The Witch Doctor smiled and said, "Not much traffic today. Anyway, back to my story. I had to find this Johnson Springs place to make my delivery, and well, there wasn't really a sign that said Johnson Springs or anything. I followed the directions to the letter, and ended up on this really small road. Now, when I say it was small, I mean it was small, son. There was barely enough room for my truck, let alone a car coming from the other way. Anyway, I was going down this winding road, and by this time the sun was almost all the way down, when I seen this man standing on the side of the road. Now, it was all woods out there, and I hadn't seen any houses for almost a mile, so I didn't think he had any business walking around out there."

"Was he a ghost?"

"Hold your horses, son, let the Witch Doctor get his story out. Now, he was about average height, a pretty big fella, though. Looked like he might have been my age. Anyway, he had this shaggy dark hair, and when he ran his hands through it, I could see a big cut on his forehead. As I passed he didn't really look at me, so I thought maybe he was really out of it. I stopped the truck, the one you're sittin in right now, and got out. I walked up to him and asked if he was all right. He just frowned and pointed back up the road the way I had come from. Then, he disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

The Witch Doctor laughed, slapped his left knee with his left hand, keeping his right hand on the wheel, and said, "Disappeared, son. And, I'll swear to it. He just pointed and disappeared into the air like he wasn't even there. Anyway, that's not even really the weird part. I went on down the road a bit, and found the edge of a field that was flush with the road, and not seeing any other opportunities coming up, I turned the truck around. I headed back up the road, in the direction that the man had pointed in, and found a gravel road that I had missed on the way down. The ol truck barely made the turn, but once I was in there the woods opened up and there was a big clearing that the gravel road made a circle around. Out in the middle of that clearing, I saw a big ol fire, and the silhouettes of people moving about it. Some of them was dancing, others was just standing around. Well, anyway, I took the truck around the circular path and stopped on the far side, away from the entrance."

The Witch Doctor stopped speaking and looked straight ahead at the light traffic in front of him.

"Whats wrong?" Apocalypse Dowell asked.

The Witch Doctor whispered, "Something's amiss, son. Just be quiet and listen."

They cruised along for two minutes without speaking, hearing nothing unusual. As Apocalypse Dowell was about to say something, they heard thumps coming from the top of the trailer.

"Whats that?" Apocalypse Dowell asked.

The Witch Doctor whispered, "What do you think it is? We got us a hitcher on the roof."

"A hitcher? You mean a person?"

"Of course, son. It happens all the time, but it's never happened to me. This ain't no count."

"Well, if you stop the truck we can see who it is."

"Can't do that, son. Ain't no telling what he's doing up there. For all we know he might be after the cargo, and if he's after the cargo, he's probably got a gun. If I stop the truck and climb up after him, the sombitch'll probably shoot me before I know what happened. No sir, I got a couple ideas about what to do before I stop the truck."

The Witch Doctor picked up his CB and said, "Breaker breaker one nine, this here's the Witch Doctor out of that Chi-town, westbound on I-40 just past the 191 marker. Big purple diesel eater, anybody got an eyeball?"

Seconds later, the reply came.

"Mercy sakes, Witch Doctor, this is the Bobcat out of that Bakersfield town, I got an eyeball. Go ahead.”

"Good to hear it, Bobcat. Someone's a knock, knock, knocking at my door, and I think it's a hitcher. Can you get an eyeball?"

"Mercy sakes, Witch Doctor, looks clean to me, but I can't get a good angle."

There was another loud thump.

"Sombitch is getting closer," the Witch Doctor said. "Sounds like he's working his way to the cab. You ever drive a truck before?"

Apocalypse Dowell frowned and said, "A pick-up."

"Aw hell, son. Not a pick-up. A big rig, son, a big rig."

"No, but I drove a school bus when I was a cross country coach. I ran it into a pole, though. Tore out the whole luggage compartment on the side."

"Hell, son, that don't matter. You don't have to maneuver this thing, you just gotta keep her steady."

"Where are you going?"

"Topside, son, topside. Someone's up on the rooftop, son, and it ain't St. Nick I gotta go up there and see who it is."

Apocalypse Dowell said, "Can't we just stop the truck? Or, call the police on the CB and have them surround the truck when we stop?"

"Aw, hell, son, that wouldn't be no count. That sombitch up there is moving, and I don't think we have much time. We can't very well expect the bear to come a running with any speed, now, can we? And hell, son, sombitch up there might have a gun. If we stop the truck, he knows we're a-coming and click click boom, we're dead as doornails. Hell, being dead, that ain't no count, son."

"If he has a gun, then don't you think it's dangerous to go up there? He could shoot you up there just as easily as he could if we stopped the truck."

"Hell, son, that's true, but at least I'll have the element of surprise on my side. And, the ol' Witch Doctor has a couple tricks you ain't seen, yet."

Apocalypse Dowell shook his head and asked, "OK, what do you need me to do?"

"Now, you'll find that driving this truck ain't too much different than driving that ol' school bus. They both run on diesel, and well, they both have the same pedals. Well, not really, but it's pretty close. Now, I got this sombitch in high gear, and there won't be no need to stop the truck, so all you gotta do is keep your foot on the pedal, here, all right?"

"OK."

The Witch Doctor maneuvered the truck around a slow RV and continued, "Now, this pedal over here is the brakes. Son, nevermind them brakes. You ain't gonna need em. Just keep your foot hard on this pedal here, son. You got it?"

"Got it. Is there going to be a signal or anything for me to help you? Like, if you give a call or something, so I know to jiggle the wheel to make the guy up there fall down or something?"

"Aw, hell son, this ain't no video game. If you knock the perp down, you might knock the Witch Doctor, down, too. Hell, son, just keep er steady. You got it?"

"Got it."

"All right, son. Hold on just a minute."

The Witch Doctor reached under his seat and brought out a two-foot metal pipe. He put the pipe in his left hand, keeping his right hand on the wheel. Apocalypse Dowell stood up and moved closer to the Witch Doctor.

The Witch Doctor said, "Now, slide your right foot over onto the pedal."

Apocalypse Dowell followed the instructions, and soon found himself in control of the accelerator. He then put one hand on the wheel and took control of the truck as the Witch Doctor slid closer and closer to the driver's side door and then out the window. The Witch Doctor's right boot accidentally hit Apocalypse Dowell in the face as the Witch Doctor disappeared onto the top of the cab.

Apocalypse Dowell liked being in control of his own truck. He felt like a 70's truck driver, keeping one step ahead of the bear and never settling down. Although he wanted to step on the pedal and see how fast the truck could go, he followed the Witch Doctor's orders and kept it steady at 65 miles per hour.

Apocalypse Dowell's truck driving fantasy was interrupted when he heard several loud thumps from the top of the truck.

The Witch Doctor considered his truck to be one of his best friends. He'd been through many adventures in the truck, and more than a few times it had saved his skin. So, the idea of some stranger walking around on the top of his truck without his permission angered the Witch Doctor; he wanted to destroy any person he found on his truck.

As the Witch Doctor made his way out the window, he worried that Apocalypse Dowell wouldn't be able to keep the truck steady. Hell, he hit a pole with a school bus, he thought, he can't be very coordinated. The Witch Doctor then decided there were no other options and peeked his head over the top of the cab.

The Witch Doctor immediately spotted the naked man lying on the top of the trailer. The man was slowly edging his way forward and reminded the Witch Doctor of a soldier in boot camp making his way under the barbed wire.

Deciding surprise was still his best weapon, the Witch Doctor pulled himself onto the top of the cab and then jumped across the gap between the cab and the trailer, landing on the naked man. The man squirmed and tried to free himself of the Witch Doctor's iron grip. The Witch Doctor put the metal pipe against the man's throat as he held him down with his knees. The naked man, who apparently didn't care for metal pipes against his throat, reached up with both arms and threw the Witch Doctor back, causing him to release the pipe, which flew into the emergency lane and stopped in the nearby grass.

The Witch Doctor rolled to the back of the trailer, where he managed to stop himself. He looked up to see the naked man crawling after him. As the Witch Doctor tried to stand up, the wind almost knocked him off the trailer. He decided the naked man had it right and crawled, too.

They met in the middle of the trailer, where they traded punches for several seconds. The naked man was bigger than the Witch Doctor had expected, and after receiving a rather strong blow to the forehead, the Witch Doctor found himself in a headlock.

The noise on the top of the truck left Apocalypse Dowell completely clueless as to what was happening. He noticed several cars and trucks surrounding him on the interstate, and saw that the people in those vehicles were watching the top of his truck.

He picked up the CB.

"Breaker, breaker, one nine, this is Apocalypse Dowell in the Purple Diesel Eater. Anybody got an eyeball?"

"This is the Bobcat, I still got an eyeball, but this time it's more exciting. Mercy sakes, what's goin on up there? Over."

"I was hoping you could tell me, Bobcat. The Witch Doctor went up to see if there was somebody up there. What do you see? Over."

"Mercy sakes, son, it's like Wrestlemania up there. Looks like the Witch Doctor's tangling with a naked man with a mullet. Over."

"How's he doing? Over."

"Not too good, son, not too good. Mercy sakes, ol' Mr. Naked's got him in a headlock. Looks like the Witch Doctor might tap out soon, over."

"What can I do? Over."

"Mercy sakes, son, you gotta shake that truck hard so you can throw Mr. Naked off balance. Just go hard right and then back up the middle. Over."

Apocalypse Dowell moved the wheel to the right and back to the middle, causing a slight shake in the truck.

"Did that do it? Over."

The Bobcat said, "Mercy sakes, son. That wasn't no shake. You gotta shake it, son. Shake it!"

Apocalypse Dowell went hard right again and then back to the middle. This time, the truck rocked violently and almost turned onto its side. Apocalypse Dowell maintained control of the wheel and smoothed it out.

"Mercy sakes, son. Nice work. Now, hold her steady until I tell you different."

"Why don't I just stop the truck? We can all go up there and help the Witch Doctor."

"Mercy sakes, son. You stop that truck, what do you think will happen? Over."

"We'll go up there and help the Witch Doctor. Over."

"And what'll happen to traffic? Over."

"It'll stop, I guess. Over."

"Think about that, son, while you keep her steady. Over."

Apocalypse Dowell didn't understand. If he stopped the truck, the Witch Doctor would be safe and this whole thing would be over quickly. Why shouldn't he stop the truck? Apparently, Bobcat couldn't just tell him the answer because they were talking on the air and anyone could hear. If the truck stopped, traffic would stop. If traffic stopped, the police would come. If the police came, they would probably take a long time to investigate, slowing down the run. Also, they might want to check the truck, and maybe the Witch Doctor was hauling illegal cargo, something more illegal than dynamite.

Apocalypse Dowell held her steady.

The Witch Doctor saw the sunlight begin to fade. He'd been held in many headlocks before, and for longer periods of time. The excitement of climbing onto his truck and fighting the naked stranger, however, had put a strain on his body, and the headlock was causing him to slowly drift out of consciousness.

Sombitch has a firm grip, he thought. Sombitch must be some kind of professional. Goddam headlock professional.

The Witch Doctor tried in vain to free himself, but had to accept that he had been bested on the top of his own truck. He had fought hundreds of men, putting several in the hospital and one in the morgue. Self defense, he thought. Well, its been a good run. And, hell, I should of been killed in a few of those fights, anyway. Looks like the big trucker upstairs is finally ready for an eyeball. Goddam it.

The truck shook, and for a split second the naked man's grip loosened slightly. That was enough. The Witch Doctor reached up with his remaining strength and threw the man's arms off him. He then spun around, still on his knees, and punched the naked man in the groin.

The Witch Doctor loved the ladies. He had slept with more girls than he cared to count. In his thirty-seven years, he had never touched another man's privates. The Witch Doctor felt dirty.

The dirty feeling passed when he saw the naked man doubled over in pain. With the wind still beating past him, he crawled over to the man and started punching him in the face. Ignoring the beating that his face was taking, the naked man continued to hold his midsection.

As he pummeled his opponent, the Witch Doctor said, "This oughta learn you. Nobody gets on my truck without my express written permission. You understand me? You can't just hop on my truck and expect a free ride. There ain't no free rides, son. Hellfire, did you think you's dealing with some dimwit? You think I'm a dimwit, son? Aw, hell, you better not. I'm the goddam Witch Doctor. You know why they call me the Witch Doctor? I'll tell you why. It ain't none of your goddam business."

The Witch Doctor stopped beating the naked man; he could tell the man had taken enough.

The Witch Doctor said, "Don't you move. I'm gonna stop this truck and I want a few words with you, you naked big ass sombitch."

Apocalypse Dowell held the truck steady as he had been told. He had heard no more from the Bobcat, and wondered if the Bobcat was still in the area. As he started to enjoy driving the truck on that sunny day, the face that appeared in the driver's side window almost made him run off the road.

The Witch Doctor's upside down face said, "All right, son. Move it on over, I'm coming aboard."

Apocalypse Dowell edged off the seat, keeping his left hand on the steering wheel and his left foot on the accelerator. The Witch Doctor's face disappeared for a moment, and then his feet appeared in the window. He slid in, as if he had made the move a thousand times, and took control of the truck. Apocalypse Dowell returned to his seat on the floor.

Back in his natural position, the Witch Doctor said, "Mercy sakes, son, you might be a trucker, yet. That was some good driving. Who told you to shake the truck like that? Saved my life."

"Oh, you can thank the Bobcat for that."

"Mercy sakes, I just might do that."

The Witch Doctor picked up the CB and said, "Breaker breaker one nine, this here's the Witch Doctor outta that Chi-town. Bobcat, you got yer ears on? Over."

"This is the Bobcat, go ahead. Over."

"Mercy sakes, son, the Witch Doctor owes you one. I'm going to stop up here at the rest area at the two fifty mile marker, I wouldn't mind having an eyeball and shaking your hand. Over."

"Think nothing of it, Witch Doctor. Think nothing of it. I'd loved to shake your hand, but I gotta put my foot down to make this run, if you know what I mean. But, if you want to repay me, when you speak of that Bakersfield town, speak kindly. Bobcat over and out."

"Will do, Bobcat. Will do. Witch Doctor, over and out."

The Witch Doctor smiled and replaced the CB on its stand.

Apocalypse Dowell asked, "Well, what happened? I heard something about a naked man."

"Wooo, mercy sakes, son, you're right. When I climbed up there, there was a big ol' naked man crawling toward the front. Probably woulda killed us if we hadn't acted when we did. Anyway, me and the ol' naked guy tangled up top for a while, and I'll be honest with you, son, he almost got the best of the ol' Witch Doctor. If you hadn't given the Purple Diesel Eater a big shake, the world might be minus one trucker right now."

"Did you throw him off the truck?"

"Mercy sakes, son, this ain't no movie. I can't go just tossing naked men off the top of my truck. How would that look? No sir, I knocked him out. He's still upstairs."

"What're we going to do?"

"Well, son. We're going to stop at the rest area a few miles up the road. Then, I'm going to climb back up there and bring the naked man down and see if I can't get some answers from him. I can't abide folks climbing around on the top of my truck when I got a run to make."

They sat in silence for the next several miles, until they approached the rest area near the 250 mile marker. Apocalypse Dowell sat up and stared at the rest area, the largest he had ever seen. A two-story brick central building with nice facilities and travel information was surrounded by a small arboretum. The surrounding woods had at least twenty picnic tables and two dog walks. The Witch Doctor pulled into the truck area and killed the truck's ignition.

"Now, it's time to solve us a mystery," the Witch Doctor said. "Why don't you take a peek up on your side in case I need some help."

Apocalypse Dowell rolled down the passenger side window and climbed through it, looking over the top of the cab. He saw the Witch Doctor doing the same thing on the other side, and noticed the sour expression on his face. Apocalypse Dowell then looked back over the trailer, spotting no naked man. He looked back at the Witch Doctor, who held a finger in front of his lips to tell Apocalypse Dowell to be quiet.

The Witch Doctor quietly climbed onto the top of the cab and made his way back. Looking down, he spotted something between the cab and trailer. The Witch Doctor motioned for Apocalypse Dowell to jump down on the pavement.

When Apocalypse Dowell reached the ground, he noticed the handful of trucks around the Purple Diesel Eater. He didn't see any truckers, but assumed at least a few had to be watching them from their trucks. As he wondered what the Witch Doctor was doing, a large naked man jumped out from between the cab and the trailer and ran across the hot pavement onto the nearby grass.

Apocalypse Dowell stood dazed for a moment before he ran across the pavement and onto the grass, gaining ground on the naked man who had already made it into one of the dog walking areas.

Upon seeing the naked man, several dogs barked and two women screamed. Apocalypse Dowell stayed focused on his naked target and tackled the guy as he tried to make his way around a large oak tree. They fell over, with Apocalypse Dowell on top. Despite his desire to hold the man for the Witch Doctor, Apocalypse Dowell didn't like touching the naked man and released his grip.

The naked man stopped trying to get up when he saw Apocalypse Dowell standing over him and the Witch Doctor approaching. A small crowd started to gather around them. Some of the people asked if they were okay but Apocalypse Dowell didn't answer. He didn't want to make any moves until the Witch Doctor had arrived.

The Witch Doctor ran up and said, "Woo, thank goodness you found him. I thought we'd lost him forever." He walked over to the naked man and helped him up.

The Witch Doctor then looked at the people standing around them and said, "You'll have to excuse us. This is our cousin, Edgar. We're taking him out to Disneyland, and well, sometimes he likes to take off his clothes and run like the dickens. He's all right now, though."

The crowd dispersed with a story to tell their friends later. Apocalypse Dowell, the Witch Doctor, and the naked man silently walked back to the truck. When they arrived at the truck, the naked man stepped inside with them.

The Witch Doctor said, "Now son, I can't look at no naked man any longer than I absolutely have to. Let me find you some clothes." He then reached behind his seat, dug through a small bag, and removed a pair of plaid boxers, faded jeans, a light flannel shirt, and a pair of white tube socks. He threw then to the man, who put them on quickly.

"Thank you," the newly clothed man said, sitting beside Apocalypse Dowell in the passenger side area.

"Don't mention it," the Witch Doctor said from the driver's seat. "Now, why don't you start by telling us who you are and why in the hell you was on my truck?"

The man said, "Well, sir, my name's Stall Puckett. You ever heard of me?" Apocalypse Dowell and the Witch Doctor both shook their heads.

"Well, anyway, I was a pro wrestler a few years back in Memphis. Now, I work for Jake Bastion, the president and CEO of MVWF. Well, I guess I worked for him, but not anymore."

"Mercy sakes, son, I might remember you, now. You used to fart on your opponents, right?" the Witch Doctor said.

"Yeah, that was me."

"That was some good entertainment, son. Now, we tangled with ol' Jake Bastion a couple days ago. You here because of that?"

"Yes, sir. At least, that's why I was following you at first. See, Mr. Bastion, he's got him a real temper. So, when Mick Aloha got the best of him, he was real mad. He sent me and this other guy and a robot after Mick Aloha. By the way, where is Mick Aloha?"

"We don't know," Apocalypse Dowell answered. "We kind of lost him."

"Well, anyway," Stall Puckett said, "we caught up to your truck thanks to the GPS tracking device that's lodged in the grill."

"In the grill? What are you talking about, son?" the Witch Doctor asked.

"Jake Bastion put a tracker on your truck when you were all stopped on the highway. He's a sly one, now. Anyway, we found your truck but come to find out that robot thought it was more important to kill me and my partner than it was to kill Mick Aloha. So, we ran away from it. Did you see a robot putting out a car that was on fire?"

"No," Apocalypse Dowell said.

"Mercy sakes, son, you was asleep," the Witch Doctor said. "I seen it. That was your robot?"

"Sure was. We took our clothes off to keep the robot busy thinking we might be dead and hid in the field. I was watching from the field, and I thought maybe the robot would attack you guys looking for Mick Aloha. When I saw that it didn't, I assumed it had done a thermal inspection of your truck and discovered Mick Aloha was gone."

"They can do that?" Apocalypse Dowell asked.

"They can do a lot," Stall Puckett said. "Anyway, at that time I figured the safest place to be would be the one place where the robot knows Mick Aloha isn't, your truck."

Apocalypse Dowell shook his head and said, "I have a question. Now, the wrestling thing happened on Tuesday night, so you climbed on top of this truck early Wednesday morning. Is that right?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"And, it's just past noon on Thursday, now. So, you've been up there for over thirty hours?"

"No, not straight through. When you stopped at that hotel yesterday, I hopped off once it was dark. I found an old tap in the big yard behind the hotel to get me some water and then I dug through the trash a bit and found me some food. I headed back up on the truck, though, as soon as I could since I thought you guys might take off early and leave me."

"Why didn't you just take off and hide?" Apocalypse Dowell asked.

"Where was I gonna go? I had no money, no I.D., and I was naked. I thought I might as well ride this truck until an opportunity presented itself to me. But, I got real cold on top of this thing last night, and well, this afternoon, when we were moving fast, the wind was cold and I thought I might get frostbitten or something, so I started moving closer to the front, hoping I could get you to stop."

The Witch Doctor asked, "Well, if you had friendly intentions, why'd you attack me?"

"You attacked me and I had to defend myself. You know, I tried to talk to you, but I guess you couldn't hear me."

"Mercy sakes, son, you might be right. Well, hell, do you promise you won't try to hurt us?"

"Yes, sir, I promise. And, I'll try to help you any way I can."

"What do you think, Dowell?" the Witch Doctor asked.

"Yeah, I say we give him a ride as long as he keeps his clothes on."

The three of them stepped out of the truck fully clothed and walked to the rest area. The Witch Doctor bought Stall Puckett several snacks from the vending machine and promised to stop soon for lunch. Minutes later, they were back on the highway, moving across the continent.

Miles down the road, Apocalypse Dowell said, "Witch Doctor, you never finished your story about Johnson Springs. You said there were people dancing around a fire when you got there. What happened after that?"

The Witch Doctor looked at Stall Puckett to see if he minded hearing just the end of a story, but saw that he was asleep. He glanced at Apocalypse Dowell and said: "Well, son, I was scared, and I mean real scared. They was a bunch of crazy hippies with dark makeup, even the boys, and weird looking clothes. Looked like they was all ready to go to a funeral. Anyway, son, a few of them walked up to the truck and thanked me for being on time and all that. Then, we opened up the back of the trailer and removed their cargo."

"What was it?"

"Mercy sakes, son, you gotta have a little more patience than that. Anyway, it was a big ol' box. Maybe big enough to hold a lion in, if you wanted to transport lions and such. Anyway, there was big air holes on the side, so I thought they might be getting a lion or some animal after all. Now, the Purple Diesel Eater's trailer really isn't the place for animals to stay, so I thought it a bit foolhardy to give me such a cargo, and I told em as much. They told me not to worry about it and that I was getting paid to make the delivery, not to worry about the cargo. I asked em what it was, and they said it really wasn't any of my business, but it was a dog."

Knowing the pattern that Apocalypse Dowell followed, the Witch Doctor waited for his question. Apocalypse Dowell asked: "Did you think it was a dog?"

"At that time I thought it coulda been a dog, son, coulda been a dog. Them hippies was talking so much, though, that I couldn't get me a good listen. Anyway, they all quieted up so I could hear what was in the box, and I'll be honest with you, it did sound like a dog was panting in there, so I figured they must have been a-telling me the truth. Now, here's where it gets a bit strange. You remember I told you I'd seen that man out on the road who looked like he didn't have no business being there and that he'd pointed me in the right direction? Well, I asked em if they was missing anyone or if they'd sent someone out to help me and they said they didn't know what I was talking about. Anyway, son, they asked me to describe the man and I laid out the details before em and you shoulda seen their faces."

"What did they look like?"

"They's white as ghosts, son, white as a ghost that just seen a ghost. Mercy sakes, son, they was already pale, but whoever it was I saw must have been someone they didn't care to see. They was scared as all get out."

The Witch Doctor picked up his CB and said, "Breaker breaker one nine. This here's the Witch Doctor outta that Chi-town, westbound on I-40. We got us a bear taking pictures at the two seventy. Over and out."

The Witch Doctor replaced the CB on its stand and glanced at Apocalypse Dowell.

He then looked back at the road and said, "Well, son, I figured it was high time to high tail it, if you know what I mean. Once I'd locked up the trailer I jumped back in the truck and got out of there, leaving the dog or whatever it was with them hippies. And then, I went home. That's the end of the story."

"What? That's really the end?"

The Witch Doctor laughed and said, "Wouldn't be much of a story if it was, now would it, son? Mercy sakes, I went up the road about a mile or so and I started really thinking about that cargo. There wasn't no way it coulda been a dog. I don't know no dog that would just sit in a box and pant when it's getting moved about the place every which way. Any dog I know, once it heard people outside, would start barking its head off, don't you think?"

"Yeah, probably would."

"That's what I thought, too. Then, I started to get me some suspicions about what was really in that box, and I didn't like the ideas I started to get."

"Did you call the police?"

"Mercy sakes, son, they ain't no police that far out in the country. You call the police, it's gonna take em forty five minutes or so just to get out there. I didn't think I had that much time."

"What did you do?"

"Mercy sakes, son, I turned the Purple Diesel Eater around as soon as I could and started to head back toward Johnson Springs. I hadn't met any cars since I'd left the place, so I knew I had to go back on my own. I also knew they'd be able to hear my truck from pretty far off, so I pulled off onto the edge of a field about a half mile or so from the place. Then, I picked up my pipe and started walking up the road toward the hippies."

"Your pipe? The one you dropped?"

The Witch Doctor smiled and reached under his seat with his right hand and removed another two-foot metal pipe.

"There's some bad folks in the world, ol' son. You can't be too careful, so I keep two with me. Anyway, I followed the road and didn't meet anybody. As dark as it was out there, I knew if a car came I'd see it from way off and be able to hide out in the woods. Well, when I got near the place I thought I'd head through the woods so I could sneak up on em better. Now, the moon was out, it was pretty close to full, I think, so that gave me just enough light to see my way through the woods."

"How far did you have to go through the woods?"

"Not too far, son, not too far. Maybe two hundred yards or so. Anyway, I came up onto the springs themselves, and followed them until I was behind the hippies. I creeped my way up and crouched down at the edge of the woods, right beside a big ol' oak. Now, them hippies had stopped dancing, and they was all standing around the box that I'd dropped off, doing Lord knows what. Then, I could tell that some of them in the middle was struggling with something, so I decided I had to get a closer look. You ever crawled on gravel, son?"

"On gravel? Not that I can remember, no."

"Well, son, don't do it if you can avoid it. It don't feel too good if you know what I mean. Well, I crawled across the gravel roadway, army style, and made my way closer to the circle of hippies. When a couple of em moved around, I could see what had really been in the box I'd delivered."

"Was it a goat?"

"Mercy sakes, son, it was a woman. They was tying her to some kind of post. Looked like her arms and legs had been tied up already. She was probably that way when they opened the box and her mouth was gagged. She wasn't struggling against the hippies very hard, and the more I looked at her the more I realized she had to have been drugged. Mercy sakes, son, I was upset. Mistreating a young woman like that ain't no count. Bunch of pencil necks who can't get dates, tying up a poor girl. Burned me up, son, burned me up good."

"Sorry to interrupt again, but did you say the hippies were all men, or some were women, too?"

"Well, when I dropped off the cargo, only the men spoke to me. But, I could see they was some women there, too. Anyway, up there close to them, as they was all gathered together, I could get a better idea of their numbers. Looked like they was about thirty or forty of them all together. Now, me and the pipe here have taken out a number of hippies in our time, but we ain't never took out no forty at once, and I wasn't about to test our skills at the risk of losing the girl, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I backed off a bit to see what they was gonna do. I thought they might all get drunk or something and give the Witch Doctor the strategic advantage. So, I backed on out of there, army style again, across the gravel and back to the edge of the woods. Well, I waited there as they took the pole they'd tied that girl to and stuck it in the ground. When they got it up, I could see that the poor girl's feet were about six feet off the ground. Mercy sakes, it looked like the drugs was wearing off cause I could see her starting to struggle against those ropes. To no avail, son, to no avail."

The Witch Doctor paused to compose his thoughts. He worked the truck around some small cars and fell in behind another truck. The Witch Doctor thought for sure Apocalypse Dowell would ask a question, but he didn't. Apocalypse Dowell was afraid the next question he asked would cause him to lose his ride.

The Witch Doctor smiled and continued, "Well, anyway, I could see them hippies passing around some bottles of something and taking em some drinks, so I thought for sure they was getting loaded. Well, pretty soon they all lined up in a kind of formation and started chanting, son. It wasn't English, neither. Sounded like one of them old languages. Or, maybe it was something made up, like Klingon or French. Anyway, son, I sure couldn't understand it, but I could feel that it was about to lead up to something. Now, son, this is the part where you'll think the Witch Doctor's a bit crazy. They started chanting real fast and as sure as I'm sitting here right now there was an explosion near the base of the pole and lots of smoke rolling out. The first thing I thought was that the girl was dead, but then I saw that the pole hadn't been touched. All of them hippies fell prostrate to the ground, as they say in church, and standing there by the pole who do you think I saw, son? Who do you think it was?"

Apocalypse Dowell, unsure if the question was rhetorical, waited before answering. When he realized the Witch Doctor actually wanted an answer, he said, "The bloody guy you saw on the road?"

"Mercy sakes, son. You are paying attention. That's right, that man that pointed me in the right direction and got them all excited when I mentioned him. Sombuck came out of thin air, son, and stood there as the smoke disappeared. Well, all them hippies was just a chanting away, and by this time the drugs must have almost worn completely off because the girl started really struggling against her ropes and I could hear her muffled screams. Even if she didn't have the gag, I don't think anyone could have heard her screaming way the heck out there, anyway. Well, the man just stood there smiling, and I could tell he was up to no good."

The Witch Doctor downshifted as he came upon some slow traffic. The interstate was three lanes at the time, and all three were filled with slow moving cars. He blew his horn and got on the CB, trying to find out what the problem was. Minutes later the traffic had cleared and they were back up to their normal speed again. Stall Puckett continued to sleep on the floor.

The Witch Doctor glanced at Apocalypse Dowell and asked, "Well, son, you ready for the rest...of...the...story?"

"Sure."

"Well, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out this hunting knife. Looked like the kind of knife you might use to field dress a big ol' buck. Anyway, and this is the part where you'll really have to trust the Witch Doctor, the sombuck started floating."

"Floating? You mean like up in the air?"

"Where else is he gonna float, son? Of course he was a-floating up in the air. All them hippies couldn't believe it, neither, and they started chanting really loud and, well son, the Witch Doctor don't care too much for chanting or floating men. When he started floating right in front of the girl brandishing that knife, I knew I had to do something. So, with my pipe in hand, I ran across the gravel road and into the crowd of hippies, heading for the pole. The hippies didn't know what was happening until I was almost to the pole. Then, some of the hippies up front jumped up and tried to block me. Now, I hate hippies, but I'm not about to go to jail for killing one, so I gave him a few licks in the lower body with the pipe to temporarily put him down. Then, I reached the pole. Now, seeing their buddies lying there holding their legs and groins and whatnot, the other hippies weren't too eager to join in the battle. Well, the floating man, he was none too happy with me. He gave me a look of fire and held out the knife like he was going to stab the girl, anyway. Now, I told you her feet were about five feet off the ground, and this floating man's feet were about the same. So, I reached up with my pipe and gave him a lick on the feet. You ever play baseball?"

"Yeah, second base in little league."

"You know the feeling when you don't have a good grip on the bat and you hit the ball? How it vibrates your whole body."

"Yeah, it happened to me a lot."

"Well, son, that was what it felt like when I hit ol' Floaty in the feet. My whole body shook and ol' Floaty just smiled and reached back with the knife. Looked like he was aiming for the heart. Just as he was about to put the knife in her, I threw my pipe at his hand. The knife and the pipe fell to the ground behind us with a couple thuds as ol' Floaty started floating down to me. Mercy sakes, son, I was sure I was gonna die. You ever been attacked by someone who's covered in blood?"

"I thought I had, once, but it was just Mick Aloha after a trip to Denny's."

"Well, it ain't too fun if you know what I mean. Anyway, he came down to the ground and I gave him a punch in the stomach. You ever punched metal, boy?"

"I punched a vending machine once."

"Yeah, that's metal. Anyway, that's what it felt like. I punched him in the chest and it felt like the same. That's when I realized I wasn't dealing with the devil or a crazy cult leader. I was dealing with a sombitch robot."

Apocalypse Dowell sighed and said, "Well, you had me until now. I would've believed you'd fought the devil himself, but a robot? How could he be a robot?"

"Mercy sakes, son, you mean to tell me you've believed everything I've told you so far, but when I tell you there was a robot involved, you don't believe me? What's wrong with you, son? You should know robots is everywhere, hellfire, you said you fought one, didn't you?"

"Yeah, Steakzooka, but, that's different. Steakzooka was purple. No one ever confused him with a person. He was just a big block of metal."

"Mercy sakes, son, you gotta use a little imagination. Those robots you see all the time, the ones like that steak fella and the one that went after our sleepy friend, here. They're just a front, son, nothing more. They're there to keep our eyes off the real prize. If they show you robots that can jump ten feet high, you know they got ones that can go twenty. If they show you a robot that looks like a bunch of Legos, I guaran-damn-tee they got ones that look like people."

Apocalypse Dowell shook his head and said, "We're not even close to having that kind of technology."

"Wooo, son, I didn't mean to offend your scientific mind. How do you know what kind of technology they got?"

Apocalypse Dowell just shook his head and looked down.

"You read magazines, don't you? Is that how you keep up?"

"Yeah, I read magazines and books. You know, I was a science teacher before."

The Witch Doctor laughed, flashing his bright teeth, and said, "Well, mercy sakes, son. You didn't tell me that. Hell, if I'd a-knowed that, I wouldn't have even brought up the subject. Son, you studied textbooks, right. Do you think the real truth is in textbooks?"

Apocalypse Dowell replied, "I think most things in science textbooks are true. The laws of physics and whatnot don't really tend to change."

"Now son, I'll give you that. What I'm talking about is the real truth."

"No, I guess the real truth isn't in textbooks, regular books, or magazines. Where's the real truth?"

"It's out here, son. Right where you are now, on the highways of this nation. It's in the small bars and coffee shops, in the truck stops and gas stations. It's all out there, you just gotta listen."

"OK, then I'd like to know some truth. Please let me know what's going on."

"Mercy sakes, son, let me finish my story and I'll lay some truth on you. Anyway, I realized it was a robot. Now, you said before something about technology not being around that can make a robot that looks and moves like a human. Now, I don't know that it doesn't exist, but it didn't exist in this robot I saw. Up close, you could tell it wasn't no human. But, you have to remember that I saw this thing at dusk from my truck here, and then I saw it in a cloud of smoke in the dark. I didn't really study it too hard when I was punching it, but when I realized what it was it was pretty obvious. So, maybe you're right. Maybe the technology isn't there, yet."

"Fair enough. So you punched it a few times, hurt your hand, and then what happened?"

"Well, when I was punching it, them hippies didn't know what to do. I thought at the time they might not know it was a robot, so I started screaming, 'It's a robot! It's a robot!' Them hippies just stood there, then, and I knew I only had me one chance. I got me a good grip on my pipe and took a mighty swing at the thing's head."

"Word. Did you knock it off?"

"You'd think I would have, wouldn't you? But, this wasn't no ordinary robot. Most of em, you take a decent swing and the head flies off and blows up. This one stayed put. I took another swing and this time put a big ol' dent on the side of its head. Sombitch was staggering around and whatnot, and I saw a little smoke coming out its ears. Sure did look like the devil, son. Anyway, I figured third times a charm and took me one more swing, and that time it dislodged the thing's noggin and sent it flying. Mercy sakes, them hippies all gave out a big gasp and I reckon a couple of em fainted. The head landed about ten feet away, so I ran over and picked it up and threw it into the springs. Sombitch exploded just as it hit the water, and it sent water all over me and the hippies."

"Really? What did the hippies do?"

"Well, a few more fainted, and the rest just sat down in the field, not knowing what to do. I grabbed a couple of em toward the front and got em to help me get that pole down and let the girl go. They did as they was told, and come to find out the girl had been kidnapped out in Eastern Kentucky and held for a month in an old shack out in the mountains before they had her delivered by me. Now, them hippies claimed they wasn't going to hurt her and that it had all been done by the robot leader. Of course, they said they didn't know he was a robot at all, but thought he was really the devil. Stupid hippies, ain't got a lick of sense."

"OK, so you got the girl down, most of the hippies are down, and the robot leader's dead. How'd you call for help?"

"Well, son, as you've figured out, there wasn't much I could do. Some of them hippies was coming to, and I didn't want to stick around until they were all ready to come after me. So, I grabbed the girl and we made our way to my truck. Once I's in range with the nearest town, I called the bears on the CB here and told them where they could find the hippies. Then, I headed into the nearest town and dropped the girl off at the police station. The bears there told us some officers had gone out to Johnson Springs but they hadn't found anyone there. The girl told her story and I told mine. I gave em my phone number in case they needed a witness and I left. They never called me back."

"What about the girl? What happened to her?"

"Mercy sakes, I don't know, son. Probably went back home."

"What did she do? Did she thank you for saving her or try to give you some money or anything?"

"Yeah, she thanked me sure enough, but I don't imagine she had any money to give and I wouldn't have taken it, anyway. The chance to smack around a few hippies was payment enough."

"Is that the end?"

"Yeah son, that's the end. And, in there somewheres' a good moral that you should mind. Probably about the devil really being a robot, hippies being no good, and don't expect any money no matter how many people you save. And, when I first saw that bloody robot out on the road, he disappeared. That's something for you to think about, son, robot's can disappear, or at least make it look like they're something else, like a tree or an old man. Anyway, you hungry, son?"

"Yeah, I sure am."

"Well, mercy sakes, son, it's pushing past one already and we ain't had us a proper meal today. I say we stop up here at the Denny's and see if we can't rustle us up something."

"Sounds good. You want to wake him?"

"Yeah, son. See if ol' Rumpelstiltskin wants him some chow, too."

Apocalypse Dowell shook Stall Puckett's shoulder; the ex-wrestler reached up and put his hands around Apocalypse Dowell's throat. Realizing where he was, Stall Puckett released his grip and apologized.

"Mercy sakes, son," the Witch Doctor said. "You ain't never gonna get married if you wake up like that. You hungry?"

Stall said, "Sorry, it's been a weird couple days. Yeah, I could sure eat."

"You up for Denny's, ol' son?"

"I'm always up for Denny's."

After eating, they got back on the road and made a straight shot to the Texas panhandle, where traffic on the interstate came to a dead stop.

The Witch Doctor had been warned that they were going to have to stop several minutes before it actually happened, and by the time he hit the Purple Diesel Eater's brakes, he knew there were three cars involved in the accident ahead that had spread over both directions of the highway.

When the Witch Doctor looked to the floorboard beside him, he saw Stall Puckett passed out once again and Apocalypse Dowell sitting up with his eyes closed.

"You awake, son?" the Witch Doctor asked.

"Yeah," Apocalypse Dowell said, opening his eyes and looking up at the Witch Doctor. "I guess I was kind of meditating. What happened? Why'd we stop?"

"Mercy sakes, son, the word on the wire is that there's been an accident up the road a bit. Always happens to me on the Texas panhandle, so nothing to really worry about. Must be a doozy though, cause they're sayin they's only three cars, but traffic's stopped both ways."

Apocalypse Dowell leaned up to look through the windshield. He saw the early afternoon sun beating down on the people from the stopped cars in front of them, who were standing around their cars and talking to each other.

The Witch Doctor got back on his CB. After he replaced it back on its mount, he looked at Apocalypse Dowell and said: "Well, you can hear as well as me that we ain't going nowhere. Might as well go out and mingle. What do you think?"

"Sounds good," Apocalypse Dowell replied. "What about him?"

"Aw, let him sleep."

"I ain't asleep," Stall Puckett said, as he sat up and looked around. "I was just resting. What are you boys about to do?"

The Witch Doctor said, "We're going to go out and chat with these stranded motorists. You in?"

The three men exited the truck and worked their way into the crowd. There were few truckers around, so not many of the people knew what was happening or how long it would be. The Witch Doctor was happy to give out the straight facts; he didn't deal in conjectures when it came to traffic.

As they stood in front of the truck, meeting people and talking about the accident, the weather, and best places to eat up the road, someone handed The Witch Doctor a hamburger on a white paper plate.

"What the heck is this?" he asked the man who had handed it to him. The man had already disappeared into the crowd, however, and the Witch Doctor then saw several burgers were being passed around. People in the crowd around them were eating the burgers, and although he had just eaten an hour earlier, the Witch Doctor put the burger away in a few seconds.

"Woo, that's a burger, now, boys. Just right."

Stall Puckett ate one too, and Apocalypse Dowell gave the burger he had received to the Witch Doctor, who quickly ate it and looked around for another.

The Witch Doctor asked one of the men in the crowd next to him where the burgers were coming from. The man replied that there was a great chef in the crowd ahead, generously grilling for the hungry masses.

They stood in front of the truck, talking to the crowd and enjoying the free burgers for over an hour. Apocalypse Dowell wasn't hungry, but he wished they would pass around some veggie burgers so he could feel like he was fitting in. The Witch Doctor and Stall Puckett had lost count of the number of burgers they had eaten, but both claimed to be well over ten.

The Witch Doctor periodically checked the status of the accident cleanup on his CB, and when they were about to start moving he passed the information on to the crowd and they said their goodbyes.

Minutes later, traffic started moving again. Within a half hour, they were up to full speed, rolling closer to Albuquerque.

Chapter 19

Thursday 7:12am (C.S.T.)

The Kid awoke to an awful sound. From the dark spare bedroom in his grandmother's house, lying in the most comfortable bed he had ever encountered, he heard Mick Aloha and his grandmother talking and laughing together. The smell of breakfast hit him, and then he heard the clanging of forks on plates and realized they had started without him. He jumped out of bed, wearing his dark blue flannel pajamas, and hurried to the kitchen.

As his eyes adjusted to the sunlight that came through the windows in Grand's small dining room, the Kid saw Mick Aloha and Grand sitting together eating with a large spread before them. Grand was just finishing laughing at something Mick Aloha had said when The Kid entered.

Grand said, "Well, look who's finally up. Do you sleep half the day away every day, Harrison, or just when you're visiting your poor grandmother?"

"Like, what time is it?"

"It's about quarter past seven," Grand said. "Ol' Mick and I have been up since five thirty. He sure is a funny one."

Mick Aloha looked up from a slice of crispy bacon and said, "Good morning, Kid. I trust you slept well." He then looked back down at his plate and finished the bacon.

"Grab ya a plate, Harrison, before it gets cold."

The Kid picked up a plate from the small stack on the end of the table and started piling food onto it. As he looked into each bowl and onto each plate, he said: "Oooo." When his plate was completely covered, he found the basket for the fresh biscuits Grand had made from scratch. He reached under the small towel that kept the biscuits warm to find that only one biscuit remained.

Mick Aloha smiled and said, "We saved you one, dude."

"One? Pssshh. One? Like, how many did you eat?"

"Hell if I know, dude," Mick Aloha said. "Maybe three or four. Grand, what do you think?"

Grand said, "I ate two myself. You must have eaten four if there's only one left."

"Goddam it! Goddam it! Goddam it! Goddam it! Goddam it!"

"What's wrong, dude?" Mick Aloha asked.

"What's wrong is you ate all of my goddam biscuits. I've driven halfway across the goddam continent, and the only thing I've been thinking about, except killing you, is my Grand's goddam biscuits. And now, you, the jackass I've been nice enough to give a ride to, have eaten the only thing in this life that I really fucking cherish. You ate my goddam biscuits."

"Well hell, dude, you should have gotten up sooner. Then, you could have eaten as many biscuits as you wanted."

The Kid's face turned red and he said, "I shouldn't have to wake up at six in the goddam morning at my own grandmother's house to enjoy more than one of her fresh biscuits, now should I?"

The Kid placed his full plate with the one biscuit on top on the end of the table. He then walked around the table and put his giant hands around Mick Aloha's neck and squeezed.

Mick Aloha, accustomed to coming under attack during breakfast, picked up another piece of bacon and shoved it in his mouth before he stood up and elbowed The Kid in the abdomen. The Kid didn't budge.

"Like, I'm going to kill you, biscuit eater," the kid said.

Grand started laughing and said, "Boy, you fellas sure have you some spirit, now don't you? Harrison, let go of him, and watch your language around your grandmother. I was going to make you some fresh biscuits, anyway. That's why we ate so many, so you could have fresh ones."

Mick Aloha struggled for air.

The Kid said, "Like, okay. You're serious?"

"Of course I am." Grand then walked toward the kitchen as the Kid released his grip. He and Mick Aloha sat back down at the table.

"That all you got, Kid?" Mick Aloha asked. "If it is, you're in trouble."

"All I got? I could have killed you."

Mick Aloha said, "No, you couldn't have, dude. I was in control the whole time."

"Like, I was choking you. You would have passed out in a couple of seconds."

"If your grandmother hadn't been watching, I would have slipped out of your buttery grip and then put you in the figure four. Then, I would have eaten your goddam biscuit."

The Kid, knowing that reasoning with Mick Aloha was useless, started eating his breakfast. He didn't look up from his plate, and Mick Aloha took it as a sign that he didn't want to talk. Despite this, Mick Aloha kept talking.

"Hey dude, you know what me and Grand were talking about before? Aliens, dude. Aliens. You believe in aliens?"

Mick Aloha took the Kid's extended middle finger to mean no.

Mick Aloha continued, "Well, dude, I do. I was talking to Grand, like I said, about it before you woke your lazy ass up. Anyway, dude, my theory is that aliens really do come to earth, but they're not interested in talking to people. They talk to the dogs."

The Kid looked up from his breakfast and glared at Mick Aloha. He then said: "You're a goddam idiot. Why would aliens want to talk to dogs?"

"Hell if I know, dude. I'm not an alien. But, think about it. We see all of these flying saucers, but there are few personal encounters by comparison. And, most people who report alien sightings are hicks from out in the woods."

Between bites the Kid asked, "Well, how do you explain that? They go after people there, don't they?"

"Sometimes, dude, but I think they just confuse the people there for dogs. See, I think they have dog tracking devices in their ships, so they can see that there are a bunch of dogs in a certain area. Then, they land and maybe their eyesight isn't so good, so they use infrared or something."

"Pssshhhh, you mean like the Predator?"

"I never thought of it, but yeah, dude. Anyway, they take these hillbillies in their ships and once they realize they aren't dogs, they put them back where they found them. Those hillbillies always have a few dozen dogs around, anyway, so eventually they find some of them and have a talk."

"That's the dumbest fucking idea I've ever heard."

"Think about it, dude. If they want to make contact with us, why haven't they done it, yet? They could go right to the White House and knock on the front door if they want to. But no, they keep doing it in private to some poor backwoods hicks because they're not after us; they're after the dogs, dude. And, my guess is they've already spoken with the dog leader."

Grand walked back into the dining room, sat down beside Mick Aloha, and said, "Harrison, your biscuits will be ready in about five minutes. What are you boys talking about?"

The Kid said, "We weren't talking. He was talking and I was trying to eat."

Grand smiled and asked, "Was he telling you about the aliens and dogs?"

The Kid nodded.

"I think it's a pretty good idea. Go ahead, Aloha."

Mick Aloha said, "Well, Grand, I was just about to tell the Kid here that I think the aliens and the dogs are working together. Maybe they've got a plot going to destroy humans. Dogs are pretty smart, you know. I bet they could do it."

The Kid said, "Aloha, you're an idiot."

"You're just a non-believer, dude. If you ever saw a U.F.O. like me, you'd be more willing to accept that there's a plot against us. Goddam dogs. Man's best friend, my ass."

Grand looked at Mick Aloha and said, "You got any more ideas like that?"

"Yes, Grand, I have plenty. But, I don't think it would be appropriate to share them at the moment as I would like to get another ride from the Kid today, and if I keep telling these stories he might leave me at the first gas station."

Grand smiled and said, "Good idea. Oh, the biscuits are done."

By the time he finished his eighth biscuit, The Kid had almost forgotten that he wanted to kill Mick Aloha.

He smiled, looking at Grand and Mick Aloha, and said, "Now, I gotta get my digest on before I hit the road." The Kid then walked into the den and turned on the television, using his finely honed skills to quickly find the Discovery Channel. He then started watching a documentary about cheetahs.

Still sitting at the dining room table, Mick Aloha asked, "Do you think he's okay now? Is he going to kill me?"

"No, I think you're all right, Aloha," Grand said. "Just let him relax a while and then he'll be ready to hit the road like nothing happened."

"Okay, cool. I wish he'd hurry up, though. See, Grand, I have to get to California to save my girlfriend. She's being held by some sombitch in San Francisco, so I have to get out there as soon as I can."

"Your girlfriend's been kidnapped? Did you call the police?"

"No, Grand, I didn't call the goddam doughnut eaters. They'd only screw things up. Anyway, they could never find her. Only by using my expert sleuthing skills will I be able to track her down."

"When did you find out about what happened to her?"

"Let's see, must have been Monday night."

Grand shook her head and said, "You found out Monday night and now you're only to Oklahoma. It's Thursday morning, Aloha. Why didn't you fly out there? Is it too expensive?"

"Too expensive? Grand, let me fill you in on some information. I have disposable income."

"OK, well then, why didn't you fly?"

"Because, I spent all of my last goddam paycheck on comic books and electronic devices. Goddam CD burners. Why do I need two?"

"Didn't you have enough money to take a bus?"

"No, Grand, I didn't until I rolled into Memphis on Tuesday night and kicked me a lot of ass. I got paid for my ass kickings and then I had plenty of money, most of which I still have."

"Well, why didn't you buy a plane ticket?"

"Because they're still too expensive. Do you know how much a same day cross-country ticket costs? I'll tell you, a goddam lot. A goddam lot."

"What about a bus ticket, then? You can afford one of those, now."

"Yes, I can, Grand. But, when I got the money, I was riding in a big rig with a trucker who was going directly to San Francisco. So, I would have gotten there sooner in the truck than I would have on a bus. And then, when my ride took off and left me because of my son of a bitch no good enemy Apocalypse Dowell, I met the Kid here and he's going out to California, too. I figured the Kid would move faster than any bus."

"I don't know, Aloha. I think you might get there faster on a bus."

"I'm not taking a goddam bus. It's not my style."

"Fair enough."

Two hours later, The Kid and Mick Aloha said goodbye to Grand. As they stood on the front porch, Mick Aloha reached out and hugged Grand, which made the Kid cringe. The Kid momentarily felt sick to his stomach, but regained his composure as Grand came over to give him a hug. The Kid hugged no one, and stood still with his arms straight down as Grand put her arms around him.

"You're a big kid, Harrison," she said.

"Thanks, Grand," he replied.

The Kid and Mick Aloha waved as they drove away.

Back on the small roads that led to the interstate, the Kid didn't say anything to Mick Aloha. In his time with the Kid, Mick Aloha had been unable to determine when it was appropriate to address the Kid, and when to keep quiet. If he followed his instinct, he would have never said anything to the Kid based on the Kid's expressions, but he found silence more unbearable than anger and spoke up.

"She sure is a nice lady, Kid. You're a lucky guy."

"I'd be even luckier if you'd shut the hell up."

"OK, dude. I'll shut up. Hey, what were you watching on the Discovery Channel?"

The Kid pretended not to hear him and reached under his seat searching for something.

"Goddam it, I forgot I lost my sunglasses. I'll need to stop at some point and get some new ones."

The mid morning September sun shone directly in their eyes as they wound through the country lanes in search of the highway. The Kid squinted his light blue eyes and swore under his breath until they were back on the highway, heading west with the morning sun behind them.

Twenty minutes later, as they cruised west on I-40 with the light traffic, The Kid broke the silence when he said, "Pshhhh, that's crazy."

Mick Aloha looked around; he saw only cars on the highway and barren fields on either side. He thought for a moment that the Kid might be referring to the music they were listening to, but decided there couldn't be anything surprising about it since it was the same mix tape they had already listened to seven times on the trip so far.

Not wanting to miss an opportunity to win The Kid's favor, Mick Aloha asked, "What's that, dude?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about cheetahs."

"What about 'em, dude?"

"Pssshhhh, they're fuckin fast is what about 'em. That's what I was watching on the Discovery Channel this morning. They're goddam fast."

Mick Aloha said, "I hate cheetahs, dude. I hate all cats, especially goddam feral cats."

"Like, they're not really cats. I mean, I know they're in the cat family, but they're a lot cooler than house cats or feral cats. They're like machines."

"I like dogs, dude."

"OK, you don't like cheetahs. But, you have to respect how fast they can move."

Mick Aloha shook his head and said, "I don't care how fast they are, dude. You're wrong. Just because you're fast, doesn't mean you're tough. See, I can kick anyone's ass, but I can't really run for shit. I respect tough more than I respect fast."

"Goddam it, I never said anything about tough. I'm talking about fast. They're running machines. They're built to move fast, and that rules. They're a lot faster than any dog, so it doesn't matter how tough a dog is, it can't catch a cheetah."

As the Kid finished speaking, they crossed into Texas.

Mick Aloha said, "I hate Texas, dude. Bunch of washed up cowboys and big hair. Only good thing about Texas is the big portions. I favor the big portions."

"Spshhh, it's only the panhandle. Like, we'll be through it before you know it."

"I don't like panhandles either, dude. Panhandles can't even figure out if they're part of the state. And, they're always just the white trashiest parts of the state. Goddam Texas, Oklahoma, and Florida panhandles can all go to hell for all Mick Aloha cares."

"You're insane. You hate everything, don't you?"

"Just things that suck, dude, just things that suck. And, every goddam time I go through this goddam panhandle, there's a traffic accident, so I have to sit on the interstate for a couple hours waiting for the traffic to clear up."

Ten minutes later, The Kid saw the traffic on the interstate stopped in front of them.

As the black Volkswagen came to a stop, The Kid looked at Mick Aloha and said, "You're a goddam jinx." "It's not me, dude. It's Texas. Happens every time. And, you know why? Because all these people on the interstate want to get through the Texas panhandle as fast as they can. No one wants to stop in Amarillo. They just want to high tail it to New Mexico as soon as they can, and dude, I don't blame them. Anyway, that's what causes the accidents."

"You're a goddam genius, Aloha," the Kid said, as he stepped out of his car and onto the highway to see if he could spot the accident in front of them. People from the other cars were doing the same thing, but no one could see anything because of the small hill in front of them. Several people were lying on the hoods of their cars asleep. The Kid looked across his car to see Mick Aloha looking all around himself, probably seeking out escape routes in case there was trouble.

People around them were talking about what they'd heard about the accident, and a large man who had exited from an R.V. reported that he had heard on the scanner that there was a ten car pileup and traffic wouldn't be moving for hours.

The Kid swore under his breath, got back into his car, and turned on the radio to see if there was any more news about the accident. From the inside of his car, The Kid could see Mick Aloha walking among the surrounding cars, talking to people and shaking hands. Goddam politician, The Kid thought. Well, let them deal with him for a while. I could use the break.

The search of the Texas radio stations proved fruitless. Finally, The Kid just left it on the clearest Country/Western station, hoping they would break in with news soon.

Mick Aloha worked the crowd with the grace of Bill Clinton. He tried to keep up with all of the states the people he met were from, but lost count around twenty. The stranded people took to Mick Aloha because he let them know his opinion about the situation.

"This goddam sucks," he said to two college-aged girls who were standing beside their blue Japanese sedan. "You ladies like meat?"

"What?" one of the girls asked.

"If traffic doesn't start moving in the next twenty minutes or so, we're going to have us a barbecue, and I'm cooking. You see that Winnebago up there?" Mick Aloha pointed to an R.V. three cars ahead of the Kid's Volkswagen.

"Yeah," the girl replied.

"Well, that's Ernie. See, Ernie's from West Virginia and he's traveling with his wife, Esther, and his dog, Bartholomew. The dog's a bastard faced bastard, but Ernie and his wife aren't too bad. Anyway, ol' Ernie has himself a grill in there and he said I could use it later if I wanted."

"Okay."

"Well, anyway, if you see me cooking, know you're invited to come have something to eat."

"The girls just stared at Mick Aloha as he approached the Kid's car and got inside. The Kid continued to look straight forward when Mick Aloha sat down. An old country song that Mick Aloha had never heard played on the radio."

"You gone country on me, Kid? I was only gone a few minutes."

The Kid looked over at Mick Aloha and said, "Goddam you, no, I'm listening for the news. I want to see when we'll be out of here."

"Dude, I think you should sit back and make yourself comfortable. The word on the street is that we won't be moving for a long time."