The Book of Death (49 page)

Kacy reached out to Beth and
rubbed her arm gently. ‘Then you should definitely do it. It could be the sign
that brings him back again.’

The two women embraced for a few
seconds. Kacy could sense from the way Beth clung tightly to her that she’d
made a good friend. Eventually, Beth peeled herself away and walked back to the
end of the pier. Kacy watched her take one last look at the Eye of the Moon in
her hand before, with one almighty throw, she tossed it out into the sea. It
hit the surface of the water and made a gentle plopping sound. Then it vanished
beneath the waves.

Beth didn’t turn back right away.
Instead she continued to stare out to sea, looking to the horizon, as if she
hoped it would bring her some answers.

Dante sneaked up behind Kacy and
slipped his arms around her waist. ‘It’s just like the end of Top Gun isn’t
it?’ he said. ‘You know, when Maverick throws Goose’s dog tags out to sea?’

Kacy rested her head on his
shoulder. ‘Sweetie, it’s nothing like Top Gun.’

‘No. I think it is.’

They argued about the relevance of
Top Gun for a while longer as Beth stared out at the sea. Eventually the three
of them left the harbour and headed to the Tapioca for a celebratory drink.

Sixty-Three

Six
months later

Sanchez hated strangers coming
into his bar. Unfortunately for him, Flake fucking loved them and was regularly
organising events to encourage new customers into the Tapioca. It made Sanchez
livid, but he had to grudgingly admit that Flake had transformed the place and
profits were up because of her efforts.

For the first time ever, the
Tapioca was hosting a wedding reception. Dante and Kacy had just been married
at the Church of the Blessed Saint Ursula. Sanchez quite liked Dante and Kacy,
so out of respect (and as a promise to Flake) he’d hidden the piss bottle away
and was serving only proper drinks for a change.

Flake was out back with one of his
other new employees, Mental Beth. The pair of them had been bridesmaids at the
wedding. They were still wearing the pink dresses Kacy had picked out for them,
but instead of enjoying the festivities they were busy preparing a finger
buffet for the rest of the guests.

Beth had actually turned out to be
a lot less mental than Sanchez had been led to believe. She was hard working
and got on really well with Flake, so he’d had to stop referring to her as
Mental whenever Flake was around otherwise he tended to get a clip around the
ear. He kind of felt bad for Beth too. The Bourbon Kid had vanished and it was
pretty evident that she was lonely and desperate to know what had become of
him.

Dante was seated on a stool at the
bar. He was wearing a smart black tuxedo and drinking a bottle of Shitting
Monkey beer. He chatted with Sanchez whenever the bartender had a free moment.
Sanchez had never seen him look so smart. Then again, Sanchez had rarely been
dressed smarter himself. He too was wearing a suit, a fine bright yellow one
he’d picked out for himself at the local flea market.

Dante had barely taken his eyes
off Kacy all day. Sanchez recognised the look too because he’d begun to look at
Flake the same way in recent months.

‘She sure does look beautiful in
that wedding dress,’ Sanchez remarked.

‘Yeah,’ Dante nodded. ‘Look at how
happy she is, mingling with all them people.’

Kacy was standing by a table in
the corner. She was wearing a glistening white wedding dress and chatting with
a few of the other drinkers. In her hand she had a large glass of red wine.

‘Who are those people she’s
talking to?’ Sanchez asked.

‘I have no fuckin’ idea,’ Dante
replied. ‘She’s shitfaced, man. She’ll talk to anyone when she’s like that. I
don’t even think those people were at the wedding.’

‘What about this guy?’ Sanchez
asked, nodding at a stranger who had just entered the Tapioca and was making
his way up to the bar.

Dante took a long look at the new
arrival. ‘I hope he’s not a long lost uncle or something,’ he said. ‘Look at
the state of him.’

As with all strangers in Santa
Mondega, this guy was weird looking. He was in his early forties and walked
with a bit of a limp. He was unshaven and scruffily dressed. He wore a dirty
grey overcoat that needed a trip to the dry cleaners and a pair of black pants
held up by a piece of string.

The stranger took up a place at
the bar on a stool next to Dante. ‘Yo, bartender, can you get me a dark rum
please?’ he asked.

Sanchez was immediately annoyed
that he’d left the piss bottle out back. He begrudgingly picked up a clean
glass and poured out a measure of real rum. He placed it down on the bartop.

‘Three bucks.’

The man reached inside his coat
and pulled out a five dollar bill. As he handed it over to Sanchez he asked
another question. ‘You know where I can find someone called Beth Lansbury?’

A quiet hush descended over the
bar and before Sanchez could answer, Beth and Flake both came out from the
kitchen to see who had asked the question.

‘Who wants to know?’ Sanchez
asked.

‘Me, obviously,’ said the man.
‘That’s why I asked.’

Sanchez wasn’t particularly one
for looking out for other people, but he knew that any enemies of the Bourbon
Kid might come looking for Beth, so he played it cool. ‘What you wanna see her
about?’

‘You know where she is?’

‘That depends on what your
intentions are.’

‘I’ve got something for her.’

‘You can give it to me. I’ll pass
it on.’

The barroom remained quiet. The
large heavy duty propeller fan hanging from the ceiling was the only thing making
any noise as it whirred around at a lazy pace.

The man sniffed his glass of rum,
then took a sip. ‘You’re Sanchez, right?’ he said, placing the glass back down
on the bar.

‘I might be.’

‘Yeah, I was told you’d be an
awkward prick.’

Dante leaned over and nudged the
man’s arm. ‘Hey, buddy. Watch who you’re calling a prick.’

Sanchez waved Dante away. ‘It’s
all right, I’ve been called worse.’

The stranger sighed. ‘Let me
explain to you why I’m here.’

Sanchez picked up a white towel
from under the bar and began wiping the bar to give the impression he was
disinterested. ‘Here we go,’ he said. ‘He’s gonna tell us a story now.’

The stranger looked around, and
noticing that he had the attention of everyone in the bar, he raised his voice
so that everyone could hear what he had to say.

‘I’ve come from a small community
down South. A place called Lakeland. Anyone heard of it?’

No one answered.

‘Well anyway, for years we had an
issue there with a group of bikers. These guys were somethin’ else. Not Hell’s
Angels. Nah, they were worse ’n that. They only ever came out at night. In the
mornings we’d find villagers lying dead in the streets, well, that is, we’d
find what was left of ’em. These bikers did unspeakable things to the people of
our community. Cannibalistic shit. Like stuff you’ve never seen. For as long as
I can remember we all lived in fear. Sometimes they’d leave us alone for a few
months, then all of a sudden they’d come back. They’d break into houses and
drag people’s kids from their beds. We were powerless to defend ourselves and
anyone who stood up to them was ritualistically tortured and killed. Some were
even eaten alive in the streets.’

Sanchez coughed. ‘You know there’s
a wedding going on here, right?’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that,’ said
the man, raising his hands apologetically. He looked over at Kacy. ‘Nice
dress,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ said Kacy, beaming. ‘Got
it specially made for me by Franck Summers.’

‘That’s nice,’ said the man. He
looked at Dante and added. ‘Is she drunk?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, anyway,’ the man raised his
voice. ‘About a month ago this guy comes into town. Real nasty looking dude,
not the kinda guy you’d wanna fuck with. And, well, he
changed
everything.’

Beth had been standing behind
Flake throughout the man’s tale. She stepped forward. ‘What did he look like?’

‘Hard to say. Never really showed
his face much. Kept it hidden underneath a dark hood most of the time. Had a
real gravelly voice though.’

‘What was his name?’

The man shrugged. ‘Never told us
his name. We only knew him as the man who drank bourbon. At least that’s how we
knew him before he went out into the street and faced down all the bikers on
his own. No one in the village will ever forget that. What he did, it makes me
shudder to think about it. We thought the bikers were bloodthirsty and
merciless. This guy was worse than all of them put together. These days we know
him better as the guy who saved our village. Lakeland’s a nice place to live
again now. Hell, people can even go out at night.’ He picked up his glass of
rum and took another sip before adding, ‘Although they don’t.’

Beth sneaked forward and nudged
Sanchez to one side so she could speak to the stranger. ‘I’m Beth Lansbury,’
she blurted.

The man smiled at her. ‘I’m very
pleased to meet you, Beth,’ he said.

‘The man you speak of, his name is
JD. Do you know where he is now?’

The stranger took another sip of
his rum and set the glass back down on the bar. ‘Can I get another drink?’ he
asked Sanchez.

‘Rum again?’

‘Uh huh. Make it a double this
time.’

Sanchez grabbed the bottle of rum
from the back of the bar and hurriedly poured the man’s drink so he could hear
the rest of the conversation. The man accepted the drink and made no attempt to
pay for it. He turned back to Beth.

‘He said he’d made a deal with the
Devil. It didn’t make a lot of sense but he said he had to travel around the
world, ridding places like Lakeland of the undead. Guess he’ll do a good job of
it.’

‘Did he say if he was coming back
here any time soon?’ Beth asked, her voice revealing a hint of desperation.

‘Not any time soon. He said he
won’t stop until every last undead muthafucker is in Hell where they belong. I
guess he’s got a lifetime’s work ahead of him.’

Beth looked disappointed. ‘And he
asked you to come here and tell me this?’

The man reached inside his jacket
and pulled out a small piece of cloth. ‘Nah, he just said to give you this.
Said you’d know what it meant.’

Beth snatched the cloth away from
him and unfolded it. Her fingers were trembling. Sanchez peered over her shoulder
to get a good look at it. It was just a brown cloth with a red heart sewn into
the middle. Within the heart, sewn in blue letters, were the initials JD. Beth
turned around, clutching it tightly against her chest. There were tears welling
up in the corners of her eyes.

Sanchez understood how she was
feeling and offered some comforting words. ‘As messages go,’ he said, ‘it’s a
bit vague, isn’t it?’

THE END (maybe…)