Music City Macabre: The Low Lying Lands Saga: Vol. 1 (8 page)

“Commander Reeves is expecting you, Mr. Prescott,” said the man.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Yes, sir. Follow me, please.” He extended his arm in a gesture towards the Ops exit. We travelled down a large corridor several hundred feet to a large office that had been constructed separate from Ops.

The man said, “Mr...Uh...Prescott to see you, sir.’’

“Thank you Kevin. That will be all. Return to Ops and maintain a vigilant watch.’’

“Dude, Kevin looks like he could do some damage. What’s he doing in Ops?” I asked.

“Kevin can, in fact, do some damage. However, at this juncture, his intelligence is more important than brawn. Besides, he told me once he’s
always
wanted to work in Ops! I chalk it up to dedication. Right this way, buddy.” We walked down another very long corridor and eventually entered what looked like a hangar. Again, nobody’s flying these days, so what the hell goes on here?

Jay reached up, squeezed his shoulder radio and said, “Bring it in.”

Large double hangar doors parted and I swear to God they queued Kenny Loggins’ “Danger Zone” as I watched my Jeep Comanche drive in with a new look that just about buckled my knees.

“Now Prescott, I can see your fucking crazy gears turning. This will not make you invincible. However, it will keep you safer. From what the Doc said, this Kade character is ruthless. And a psychopath. And a sadist. And he fucking kills children, dammit! You got to stop him.

“I’m still not sure why you are doing this. Misguided sense of heroism? Death wish? I don’t know. But Prescott, you are one of the toughest, most driven, and smartest ass kickers I know. You’re going to put an end to this fucker and come right back here for some more PBR. You understand me, man?”

“Are...are we going to hug now?” I said, and started laughing. It didn’t take too long to realize Jay wasn’t laughing. It dawned on me right then, Jay doesn’t have a lot of friends. He has the people that need something from him, and the people he needs something from. His friend Prejean had died, and now I was going off halfcocked to probably die, too.

“Jay. I get it. But right now, at this point in my life I need to figure out if I want to keep living. I
need
this. If I make it out of Nashville alive I’m going to come back here, and let’s see what we can do about what Doctor Midnite says. Let’s take it back. Right now, though, I need to take out my pain on somebody else. Now tell me what you did to my baby.”

He took a deep breath looked me in the eyes and said, “Ok.’’ We walked into the hangar area without saying anything and just took it all in.

“First of all, your engine and all essential parts and accessories have been tuned up or replaced to the best possible standards. I don’t how it ran before, but it’s never run better. As you can see, we’ve added Kevlar panels to the doors and the rear, and repainted the entire vehicle black. We can’t do anything at this point about your windshield or windows except replace them if or when they’re shot out. We’re always scavenging, though, and if we come across bulletproof glass that we can make work with the Comanche we’ll take care of you. We have also added a rooftop rack of floodlights so, hopefully, you’ll have a nighttime edge if you’re in trouble. Lastly, and not easily done, we’ve added the rocket launcher to the roof. It’s fixed, you can’t aim it. You can only fire it. It’s hardwired into the third preset button on your radio. Preset one is for Doctor Midnite.”

What could I say? I was totally blown away by what Jay had done for me. We were friends, one step up from acquaintances, plus I’d actually gotten a close compatriot of his killed, yet here we were. He had done this for me.
Why?
Maybe he was hedging his bets? He figured the way things were in the world it was time to make bonds tight with whoever you thought you were going to be fighting with when the shit went down. I mean, who knows what the future will hold unless we take it back like the Doc says. I didn’t deserve this, but I’ll take it.

“Where’s the A-Team?” I asked. “I’d like to thank them.”

“They don’t need or require your thanks. My men live to take down Freaks. This Kade asshole is up to something and you need to stop it. Hopefully, this will help.”

“Thanks Jay. Seriously, like I said...”

“Get outta here, you old pirate!” He turned and walked away towards the hangar exit. “Oh, there’s one more thing I forgot to mention,” he said, “It’s in the dash. Have fun with it. Preset number two. Now get going.”

I stopped by the base doctor one more time before I left.

“There’s a rumor going around that you’re about to go off and do something stupid, Mr. Prescott,” said Dr. Fornton West, the Normal SZ Chief Medical Officer. “As the closest thing you have to a primary care physician, I think you’re being reckless and a complete dumbass.”

“While, I do appreciate your professional medical opinion Doc, I’ll decide for myself when I’m being a dumbass. Do you have a pill for that?”

“You’re a walking clipboard of mostly physical and probably mental health problems. You need rest. And honestly, some therapy. Or at least to talk to somebody about what you’ve been through. I’m happy to volunteer, or I can set you up with a base psychologist.”

“There’s a base psychologist?”

“Yes, Prescott. You’re making a grave mistake. You need to heal. Regardless of where your head is, your body must repair itself. Your gunshot wound is going to be ok.” He placed a topical cream on small piece of gauze, then wrapped several layers of bandage around the wound. A little too tight if you ask me.

“Obviously, your chest wound is cleaned and bandaged, but you have to take the meds or infection will become a problem. I can’t stress that enough, Mr. Prescott.”

“Quit calling me that.”

West paused, with an internal eye roll, I’m sure, and then continued, “I can’t stress enough how aware you need to be of infection. In today’s world, infection is a stone cold killer. You must take the meds. The nasty cut to your leg, which will leave you with a little hobble, needs stitches but there’s no time. I’m going with staples. Here, bite this towel.”

Doctor West seemed to be taking out his frustration over my decision making with every individual staple. I get the whole Hippocratic oath thing, but he acted personally offended that I’m not taking his advice.

Ok, the staples hurt like a son of a bitch. My numerous other cuts and abrasions would heal. I stayed around for a few minutes and finished up with Doc West, but eventually I had to go. He handed me several different bottles of meds, some bandages, and a few medical supplies along with a long piece of paper, presumably instructions. I wanted to take all the meds now.

“You’re not a young man anymore, Prescott. I can’t stress enough that what you’ve done to your body is traumatic. Simply put, you are not physically able to fight right now.” He sounded like he was pleading. This is getting weird so I’m checking myself out.

“Listen Doc, I appreciate you fixing me up.”

“You’re hardly fixed up.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m doing this. It’s all about mind over matter.” I stepped in closer. “It’s about will. Sheer will and I
do
have that. Thanks.”

“Take the pills. Change the bandages. At least don’t kill yourself being negligent.”

I left the Med Center and headed to the hanger to get the Comanche. There would be a scar or two, or three. Most notably on my heart. At some point I will have to talk to Emily. She deserves to hear from me a one final time.

WHILST BULLETS FLEW AT
THE 88

Nashville, TN

Kendrick Kade sat at his desk in what used to be the main office of what used to be the Hard Rock Cafe Nashville. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, just waiting. It was terribly difficult to find good help these days! He had told the Freaks to get the evening’s events prepared, then come and retrieve him.

He felt as if he’d been waiting for several hours. Hours? Why should he even be worrying about time? This still new and exciting world that had been given to him since The Descent was nothing but an endless, timeless playground of pure joy. Sometimes, he would sit back with his feet up on his desk just thinking about all the pain and suffering he’d inflicted in two short years. But pondering the chaos and destruction he could impose on this godforsaken city for the rest of his natural born life, and possibly afterwards, now that was exciting. “Somebody has to pay for Jason Aldean, Goddamnit,” he’d say on occasion, to some terrified regular, “Might as well be you!” Then he’d beat them to death with a baseball bat. Kade never knew what way he was going to kill them until he was in the moment. He liked to keep it real like that. He liked the feeling of keeping his faithful Freak followers in suspense.

“Where are you?” he screamed and pounded his desk. “I’m reeeaaady!”

So. Fucking. Hard. To. Find. Good. Help. These. Days.
He stood up and took a few steps back, knocking his chair to the ground. It was one of those old chairs the Hard Rock used in the dining area. Apparently when the Collapse occurred and everything went apeshit there was a three alarm need for awesome office chairs! The ones with fucking wheels so you could roll around the office while you were thinking and shit. Why couldn’t he have a damn LEATHER office chair with WHEELS? He picked up his chair and smashed it into splinters over his very nice solid wood desk.

Right around that time, Kade’s personal assistant Jaeger entered the office.

“We’re ready for you, Boss,” he said timidly.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Is Ortiz ready?”

“Yes, Sir. Ortiz is ready and waiting for you.”

“He is, is he? Waiting...on me, Jaeger?”

Before the Freak could answer, Kade picked up the sharpest piece from the busted chair and ran it straight through Jaeger’s right eye. The squishing, popping noise was a Mozart symphony to his ears.

Kade whispered softly, “Don’t go just yet, asshole. I want you to see this.” He pulled the stick slowly from the eye socket, and there, impaled on the end, was the punctured eye of his soon to be dead associate. He took the eye off the stick and ate it. “Maybe I’ll tell Ortiz I was eating and that caused me to fall a little behind schedule.” What set this pull to tilt was being able to watch a man die in his own puke.

Kade strode confidently out the front doors of the Hard Rock to a raucous ovation by his Legion of Freaks, hundreds of which lived and lingered on the waterfront and down the long deceased Broadway Avenue. Broadway before The Descent was the home of a Murderer’s Row of Honky-tonks and dive bars. Murderers Row due to the death of hopes and dreams more often than people.

The stage had been constructed several years before The Descent and was paid for partially by the Hard Rock and partially by the city. The Columbia River flowed right behind it and the feeling was that it was a great place to have a permanent venue for all the varying musical acts that coexisted in Nashville. Kade just used it to pontify his rhetoric, and oh, to hurt and kill people for fun.

Kade never tired of hearing their cheers, their…adoration. They truly loved him. There is something to be said for the love a couple of hundred people shared as they rape and pillage together. He was, after all, a righteous leader to his Freaks. They were like his children. And like any good father you had to set a positive example for your kids. Kade knew this. There were times to show forgiveness and understanding, and then there was tough love. He supposed tough love was what he showed Jaeger.
What the fuck? Nobody talks to me like that!

While he certainly had no problems disciplining the kids, what was about to happen was more about setting an example and a little about morals. He firmly believed you could make a point with violence, so the Freaks would understand potential consequences for their actions, but also give them a little show at the same time. After all, he was a giving leader.

Ortiz heard the applause and shortly thereafter came the chanting:

“KADE! KADE! KADE!”

“Ok, you bloodthirsty psychos, here he is. The man you’ve all been waiting for! The man who brought lawlessness and degradation to the Music City…KADE!

Kade took the mic from his longtime friend and began. “Thank you Ortiz. Can I hear a little love for Ortiz? LOUDER! That’s better. The guy’s my number one ass kicker. He deserves to hear from you.

It’s very exciting to be with y’all tonight. I know you haven’t seen me in a while but I’ve been busy. I’ll get to that in a moment. Tonight, I want to talk about boundaries. Boundaries are important because to us, the entire city, no the entire state… no the entire WORLD belongs to us! We have NO boundaries. But sometimes outsiders don’t understand boundaries. You know who I’m talking about, right?”

Two hundred or possibly more voices boomed, “THE REGULARS!”

“That’s right, the Regulars want to come into our house. The house that I have, that WE have worked so damn hard to build, and to take our shit. What gives them the right to walk through our front door without even bothering to knock and steal our supplies?”

What started as a low discombobulated mumble slowly grew into a rolling thunder crack of madness. “WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD!”