Fire Birds (21 page)

“The ladies love this look,” he said. “I should have dressed like this before. Here’s your drink.”

“But really, what costumes does he have?”

“Nah, I know you don’t want to do it,” he said. Then he added in a sassy tone, “Besides, he’s all out of Captain Janeway uniforms, so…”

“I really do now,” I said, trying to sound sincere. “You’ve piqued my interest. What sort of costumes are there?”

He made a face like he was bored with the idea, “A lot of cliché shit. He has a red shirt uniform from the original series. He has the Luke Skywalker outfit–the black one from Return of the Jedi. He has Batman, but it’s the Adam West one. And there’s a Stormtrooper helmet, but it’s homemade and kinda lame. There’s a Klingon uniform, but it’s the only one that fits me, because it has adjustable straps so I’d have to wear that one.”

The living room was lit with the flames of candles and lamps like a Klingon temple. One could almost hear the utterance of guttural prayers to Kahless. The Klingon warrior entered boldly with his bat’leth.

“Jee-KEHEKH!” he shouted.

Batman stood by the table in the dining room in his blue tights, cape, mask, and bright yellow utility belt with a drink in his hand, trying his best not to smile. On the table were vintage Planet of the Apes action figures and an AT-AT posed as if in battle. “There’s no room in Gotham City for the likes of you, Klingon.” Then uncontrollable giggles erupted.

“You must make room, hoo-mahn!”

Batman continued to giggle. He took a sip, swayed, and then pushed a button on his utility belt. A little grappling hook shot a few inches into the air then landed on the carpet, pulling a tangle of string out after it. This brought Batman to his knees with laughter, causing him to spill his drink.

The Klingon swung his bat’leth and ripped into the yellow sofa with the pink rose print.

“Yee-JATK-KKHO!” the Klingon bellowed.

Batman rolled to the floor, laughing.

The Klingon then swung his bat’leth a second time, hitting the ceiling fan and taking out a lamp and television.

“Stop, you’re killing me,” I yelled, in the agony of uncontrollable laughter.

Bruce stalked over and stood over me. His wig with attached forehead ridges wasn’t quite straight on his head. “You are drunk, hoo-mahn. Your species is weak.”

I couldn’t quit laughing.

Bruce’s arms dropped to his side. “Really, man, you’re super drunk. This isn’t even fun.”

“You have no idea how much fun this is for me.”

“Really?” he smiled. “See, I told you. I knew you would like it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And look, my utility belt has a pouch for my new cellphone. I guess I should have loosened up some before the world went to hell.”

He helped me up, and we both sat at the table and poured ourselves another drink.

“I should have too,” he said, “especially with girls. There was this woman I really liked where I worked. I wish I would have asked her out while I had the chance.”

“No regrets,” I said. “Did I tell you I was with a stripper?”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, well…I didn’t know she was a stripper at the time, and I was the only one that didn’t get to see her naked.”

Bruce slammed his hand on the table and laughed. I joined him. I laughed until my sides hurt.

“She’s dead now,” I said in a sudden serious tone. “Her name was Jen.”

His expression sobered. “Sorry to hear that, brother. My girl’s name was Tonya. I have no idea what happened to her. She might be alive somewhere.”

“Maybe you’ll get your chance to ask her on that date,” I said.

“It’s good that we can sit here and drink like this,” he said. “Like men.”

“What’s more manly than Batman and a Klingon warrior?” I said.

He lifted his glass. “To men.”

“To men,” I said, lifting my own glass.

He took a drink and set his glass on the table. Then he took off his wig and scratched his head.

“If you’re desperate for a woman, there’s something you can do,” he said.

“I never said I was desperate,” I said. “It would just be nice, that’s all.”

“Well anyway…one thing you can do, and you might think this sounds bad, but one thing you can do is find a woman that caught the virus but isn’t full blown goon. There’s not as much of that anymore, but they’re still around. If you find one, you just have to make sure you tie her down good so she can’t claw and bite you and make sure you use a condom. They can be really good, and it’s not like it’s wrong, because their mind is gone anyway.”

I had memories of Corndog’s poor captive, tied to a bed. I frowned, and looked away. “I met a guy that did that,” I said. “I prefer my women to be in their right mind and willing.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” he said. “The newly turned are really warm because they have that fever. I think it makes it better. I had a different woman almost every day those first two weeks.”

I shook my head, “You’re killing my buzz.”

He seemed uncomfortable with my reaction to the conversation. He knew he’d crossed a line and shared too much.

“I’m not a weirdo,” he blurted out. “I’ve had healthy women too.”

“Okay,” I said. “Whatever. It’s just not for me.”

“I’ll bet I could change your mind,” he said.

“Doubt it,” I replied softly. “I think I’m gonna go crash. I’ll probably just sleep in my truck tonight.”

“Don’t be a fool,” he said. “Take one of the bedrooms. I was just trying to help you get laid; that’s all. That’s what friends do. You’re too drunk to go outside now anyway.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

He laughed, “Take the room at the end of the hall. You’re going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning.”

I stood, swayed, and sat again. Bruce laughed again and got up.

“Come on, Mr. Wayne,” he said. “Let’s get you into the Bat Cave.”

He lifted me under my arm and stumbled with me toward the bedroom. On the way, we passed a mirror. The sight of 1960s Batman being helped to bed by a Klingon was hilarious, but I didn’t have it in me to laugh anymore.

The hallway was almost completely dark. When we got to our destination, he propped me against the wall then opened the door. The bedroom was illuminated by several candles. Seated in the floor was Princess Leia in her skimpy slave girl clothes. I blinked twice, sure that the alcohol was causing a hallucination. She looked up at us then slowly stood. She was wearing a dog collar and it was chained to an eyebolt in the floor. Her hands were cuffed.

“What do you think?” Bruce said. “Every man’s fantasy, am I right?”

“Where’d she come from? Has she been here the whole time?”

“I told you I could change your mind,” he said. “She’s got the Seebees, but she’s not a goon yet. She’s perfect; there’s not a mark on her except for a bite on her ankle.”

If he hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have guessed she was sick. “How did you get her into those clothes?”

“I found a tranq gun at the zoo in Memphis,” he said and patted the pistol on his belt, which I had mistaken for part of the Klingon costume. “It would probably kill a normal person, but it knocks them right out for a while. I took her down a couple of days ago up near Riverton, and as soon as I got her clothes off her I knew she’d be perfect for that Leia slave costume.”

I turned and faced him. In the candlelight, his goofy smile looked sinister.

“Don’t get any closer than the mark,” he said, pointing to a white line spray-painted on the hardwood floor. “That’s where she runs out of chain. Give me a second, and I’ll restrain her better so we can move her.”

“What for?”

“What do you think?”

“No…I…no…hell no.”

“Why not? You don’t like what you see? She’s beautiful.”

“She’s infected.”

“It’s Princess Leia, man! Princess fucking Leia!”

“Dammit, now you’ve ruined that movie for me. Now, every time I see it, I’m going to think of this.”

“You won’t ever see that movie again anyway,” he said. “I even tranqed her again this morning and gave her a bath.”

“You’re a sicko. Sara was right about you,” I said. I shoved him against the wall and started walking toward the living room.

“Say what now?” he said.

I kept walking, but I didn’t get far. He grabbed my cape, yanked me backward, and slammed me against the wall.

“Sara was right about what?” he sneered in my face. “What the hell would you know about Sara?”

In my inebriated state, I was having trouble remembering what Sara had told me about him and what he had told me Sara had said, if anything. Differentiating between the two would be very important.

“Nothing,” I said. “How would I know? How could I?”

He glared at me a moment then he grabbed my shoulders and turned me toward the zombie Leia again. “Nga-chook, hoo-mahn.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore; I just want to go to bed.”

He bellowed and pushed me back toward the living room. I tumbled, and my cape flew up over my head. Before I could recover from my fall, he had grabbed my cape and was dragging me. He lifted me to my feet, twirled me around, and then shoved me toward the dining room table. I couldn’t get my balance, and I plowed face first across the tabletop through all the liquor bottles, bartending supplies, the tote of military cellphones, and collector toys. The suit’s fabric provided little friction, and I shot over the edge and spilled to the other side. I rolled and pulled the cape from my face to see the big Klingon standing over me.

I looked around for something to use as a weapon. The Dr. Zaius action figure was by my leg. I grabbed it and held it like a knife. Then Bruce kicked and his boot caught me just below my left eye. For an instant, my head seemed to fill with white light then pain shot through to the back of my head. I clutched my face and fell to my back. Blood was coming out of my nose. Then he had both of my feet and dragged me again. I opened my eyes. I was beneath the mangled ceiling fan in the living room. Bruce came into view again. He was holding my clothes.

“I’m going in there to have me some princess,” he said. “Get out of the Batsuit before you get blood on it. You’re not worthy to wear it anyway.” He dropped the clothes in my face. “After you’ve changed, you can leave. I was wrong about you and–”

He stopped talking abruptly. I pulled the clothes off my face to see why. He was bending over to pick up something on the floor. When he rose, I saw the note. Sara’s note had fallen out of my pocket.

“That’s mine,” I said. “Give it back.”

He opened it and started reading it.

“Give it to me,” I said and tried to get up.

He put a boot on my chest and pushed me down again.

“This note is for me,” he said. “Why did you have it? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

I didn’t answer him.

He roared in anger and pulled the pistol on his hip. I threw my clothes up in the air then grabbed his foot and gave it a hard twist. He hopped back but didn’t fall. I rolled away from him and attempted to stand, but I stepped on my cape and fell again. Then he fired his weapon and hit me in the back, between the shoulders.

The window threw a rhombus of sunlight on the floor. The warm light crept along the carpet to my sprawled, unconscious body. Outside, a horn honked a steady beat. The horn was annoying, but it was the light that woke me. My face hurt, my back hurt, my head hurt, and I thought I might puke. I was pleased to find that my head was still attached to my body.

I pushed myself up to hands and knees. There was a spot of not-quite-dried blood in the floor beneath me, and that scared me. I couldn’t breathe through my nose. Then I remembered that Bruce’s kick to my face had caused a nosebleed. I got to my feet and went to the closest mirror. Adam West looked back at me. Crusty, black blood had dried in my nostrils and on my upper lip.

The sharp pain in my back hurt worse when I moved. I turned so my back was facing the mirror and looked over my shoulder. The dart from the tranquilizer gun was still there, pinning my cape to me. It was in that sweet spot between the shoulders that is impossible to reach. I still tried several times to reach it. Finally, I just tugged on the cape until the dart pulled out.

“Shit. That hurt.”

I rubbed my eyes and tried to think.

“What the hell is up with the noise?”

I went to the window and looked outside. There was a crowd of zombies gathered around my truck and scattered around the outside of the house. The clothes I’d had on the night before along with my holster and pistol were outside piled on top of the cab of my truck. I didn’t see the yellow muscle car of doom out there. My guess was that Bruce had set off the alarm on the truck and left, but I needed to search the house to be sure he was gone.

I looked around for a weapon. The bat’leth was propped against the recliner. I picked it up and was surprised by its weight. This was no plastic toy. The handle was wood and the blade was metal. I touched the edge. It was sharp.