The Conch Shell of Doom (29 page)

The crowd calmed down a little. Some even seemed sympathetic. Mr. Lovell picked up a glass of champagne and held it up for a toast. The others followed suit.

“Before discussing further business, to you all, for a job well done. And to Trenton, our new lord and savior. Salute.” Mr. Lovell downed his drink as the others saluted the toast. The champagne tasted bitter going down, to him and Trenton.

Where did they get this muck? The grocery store? A gas station? Horse urine tastes better than this shoddy excuse for champagne.
 

Mr. Lovell hid his disappointment with the terrible wine. Skimping on quality drinks made what came next even more satisfying. “Due to some unfortunate events, parts of Trenton’s body were destroyed on the voyage to your lovely ocean town.”
 

The crowd whispered amongst themselves. Mr. Lovell let it hang in the air, enjoying their concern.

“What does that mean?” Mayor Benchley asked. “Are you telling us we did all this for nothing?”

Tell them that’s exactly what you’re saying. Do it.
 

“Not at all.” Mr. Lovell set his empty champagne glass on the table, which was covered with a white cloth. “I’m only saying Trenton requires a new body to awaken in.”

“Whose body?” a fifty-ish woman with poofy silver hair asked.
 

The man next to her, probably Mr. Poofy Silver Hair, rose from his chair, a hand on her forearm. “Not one of ours, I hope. I mean we’re happy to serve, but—”

Look at them. So eager to please, unless it requires personal loss.

Mr. Lovell laughed, both at the concerned partygoers and Trenton. “Our master has no need for bodies as old and frail as yours. No, he requires a younger, stronger body.”

“You don’t mean one of our boys?” Mayor Benchley’s turkey neck wobbled as he spoke.

Mr. Lovell held out his hands. “Trenton may want a female sacrifice. It all depends, really.”

“On what?” the poofy haired woman asked.

This, quite possibly, is my favorite part.

“Whether or not the sacrifice is a virgin.”

Bailey had never been in a bar before. He’d always imagined what they were like, the mix of alcohol, pool, and women swirling into a blend of the best life had to offer. Though to be fair, his only frame of reference came from bars in movies. So long as it wasn’t the Double Deuce or that redneck bar in
48 Hrs.
, he figured things would be fine. Maybe if Patrick Swayze were still alive those others would be okay, but it would be better if the bar was more of the
Coyote Ugly
variety.

The Thirsty Alligator’s neon sign buzzed, which only added to the experience for Bailey. Made it more real.
He was actually about to step foot in a bar!
Tim and Marshall stood on either side of him, gazing up at the holy neon sign.

“It’s—” Bailey said.

“Magical,” Tim finished. “I bet there’s boobs in there. Free boobs.”

Bailey laughed. “Drunk boobs.”

“It’s not a strip joint, you goons,” Marshall said. “It’s a bar. All they do is drink alcohol. The boob stuff they probably do out back or something.”

“Um, hello?” Alexis scoffed.

“People drink in strip joints,” Tim said. “And there’s boobs under women’s shirts. Guys hit on those women. Hell, that’s how you knew to come here.”

“True.” Marshall smiled, ceding the point.

“I bet they let the women take their tops off,” Tim said. “The hot ones, at least.”

“Doubtful, but it’d be nice,” Marshall said.

Alexis made a disgusted sound as she walked past the three of them. “You boys coming in? Or are you going to stare at the alligator until you go cross-eyed?”

“Too late.” Marshall crossed his eyes.

“Children.” Alexis sighed. “I’m surrounded by children.”

That gave Bailey an idea. What would a man do?
Ah ha!
He grabbed the door and held it open for her. Yes, sir.
That’s
what a man would do.

She thanked him and walked in past the handwritten sign taped to the door saying the bar was closed for a private function.

Bailey followed her in and took a look around. Empty, except for Julie and Franklin. It wasn’t quite what Bailey had imagined, but being underage and in a bar made it all the more thrilling. He did feel a little disappointed the place wasn’t larger. Bars seemed much bigger in his imagination.

Julie stood behind the bar. Franklin sat directly across from her, drinking a beer. A sawed-off shotgun lay between them, next to a couple of empty bottles.

“Oh, fantastic.” Franklin groaned at the sight of Bailey and his friends. “Look who’s here.”

“Whoa,” Tim said, taking in the scene.

“Pretty sure it’s against the law for you kids to be in here,” Julie said.

Marshall strolled up to the bar. “Vodka and Red Bull on the rocks. Light on the bull, heavy on the vodka.”

“Nobody says on the rocks anymore,” Julie said. “You got ID?”

“Absolutely.” Marshall pulled out his wallet and waved his driver’s license in the air. “See?”

“We don’t have time for this.” Franklin finished his beer. “The Awakening has started. You kids need to go do your homework. Play video games. Abide by the mandatory evacuation. Anything but be here.”

“We both know that evacuation order is fake.” Bailey sat in the seat next to him. “Otherwise, you’d have left town.”

“You’re smarter than you look. Doesn’t change anything.”

Bailey slammed his fist on the counter. “Yes it does.”

Franklin raised his eyebrows and nodded, impressed at Bailey’s display of anger. “Something happened to you. What?”

“Mr. Lovell zombified my parents.” Bailey went on to tell Franklin everything that happened at home earlier.

He listened to Bailey; Franklin’s face becoming sterner and sterner as the story went on.

“I’m so sorry.” Julie rested her elbows on the bar, pushing up her cleavage.

Bailey’s gaze darted to Tim, whose eyes looked like they were ready to jump out of his head. Bailey forced himself not to laugh. “Will they be okay? Can we turn them back to normal?”

“Probably,” Franklin said. “But right now, your parents are the least of my concerns.”

Bailey’s face flushed with anger. “Well, they’re a big concern to me. I’m not going to let that overcoat-wearing Freddy Krueger thing hurt them.”

“Seriously,” Marshall said. “What if they start eating brains? Like mine?”

“Oh, like you’re using it anyway,” Alexis quipped.

“Seriously. It’s just going to waste right now,” Bailey said, piling it on.

“They’re not wrong,” Tim said.
 

Franklin held up his hands. “Enough. I get it.”

Bailey’s ears perked up at the hiss of another beer bottle being opened. Tim somehow snuck behind the bar and popped open a cold one.

“Don’t drink that.” Julie snatched the drink out of his hand. She wiped off the bottle with a towel and took a sip. “I’ll lose my liquor license if anyone sees you doing that. How did you even sneak past me?”

“With my sneaky ninja technique,” Tim said, striking a ninja pose. “Self-taught.”

Julie swallowed some beer. “That so?”

Alexis shook her head. “Here we go.”

“I dressed up as a ninja for Halloween one year. Jumped out of the bushes, scaring people.” Tim grinned, nodding toward Alexis. “You remember. Half of them dropped their candy. We got so fat that year.”

Alexis’s expression didn’t change. “I really hate you sometimes.”

“After that, I went on to hone my skills through the use of literature and YouTube. Now, I can snag pretty much anything I want.” Tim took a sip from a new bottle of beer. Julie yanked it away, some beer spilling out of his mouth and onto his shirt.

“Quit it,” Julie said.

“He likes to think he’s got talent,” Alexis said. “That’s for sure.”

Julie chugged the rest of the first beer and then tossed it in the trash before starting on the second one she took from Tim. “Can we move on?
 
We need something to defend ourselves with.”

“Pretty much all we’ve got is harsh language,” Bailey said. “And I doubt that’ll do much good against whatever Mr. Lovell has in store for us.”

“You should’ve seen what one of his friends did to my shotgun earlier,” Julie said.

Franklin glanced at his watch, prompting Bailey to look at the Bud Light clock behind the bar. 8:07. Franklin pulled out his cell phone and held it to his ear. “Remy? Yeah, it’s me. Open up shop. We need some emergency provisions.”

It was a little after nine when Deckland returned to the Thirsty Alligator with Percy and Mr. Lovell in tow. The only car in the parking lot was a beaten-down Mustang that wasn’t going anywhere, unless it was towed. Deckland admired his handiwork, pointing it out to the others and grinning like a proud father.

“That’s my doing. Smashed Franklin’s ride to bits with my bare hands.”

“Impressive,” Mr. Lovell said, though he and Trenton both felt nostalgic for the once-pristine ride.

Waste of a classic if you ask me
.
I’d have been more impressed if he’d just stolen it.

Deckland opened the hatchback of his Honda CUV and pulled out a battle-axe that was a couple hundred years old. Mr. Lovell had personally witnessed the ginger lopping off twelve heads in one fight with the weapon.

Percy snorted. “Why didn’t you drive that Soccer Mom car of yours and just steal the Mustang?”

“Only someone with a wee pecker like yourself could fit in something that tight.” Deckland held the axe up to Percy’s throat, making him shrink back. “And because I wanted to destroy what was most important to Franklin.”

“Okay, I get it. Sorry,” Percy said.

“If I’d brought Little Debbie with me earlier—” Deckland spun the axe “—Franklin’s carcass would be right next to that stag of a car, but I thought it’d be more fun using my bare hands.”

“You never could keep your ego in check,” Mr. Lovell said, remembering that ego was how Deckland fell into their employ.
 

After losing his entire family in the Gibbet Rath Massacre during the Irish Rebellion of 1798, the ginger went on a rampage, doing everything imaginable–and unimaginable–to every British soldier he could get his hands on. The Red Coats finally caught him, after he tried to take on an entire regiment by himself, thinking they’d go down like a sack of potatoes. Mr. Lovell and Trenton saw potential in the angry ginger, offered him a position, and the Irishman had been wreaking havoc ever since. He raised the axe, ready to tear down the Thirsty Alligator’s entrance.
 

“Allow me. You want to keep Little Debbie fresh for the fight to come.” Mr. Lovell spun around, becoming a blur. With a crack, he disappeared and then reappeared inside the bar, which was closed. Only the neon beer sign lights remained on, giving the place a purplish haze.

Outside, Deckland swung his axe at the Mustang’s trunk. It tore through the car like scissors through paper. The axe was dug in so deep he couldn’t get it out.

Mr. Lovell opened the front door, trying to hide his displeasure. “Nobody’s home.”

“This is where I last saw him.” Deckland gave the axe a break. “There are only so many places he could go without his wheels. I’d bet a pint of whiskey he’s been shacking up with the lass who owns the place.”

“You’re on,” Percy said.

“Never mind about the car. Franklin must know we’ve completed Phase Two of the Awakening. He’s a punctual man. He’ll find a way to get to the final ceremony.” Mr. Lovell held out his hand to Percy. “Give me your lighter.”

He handed it over. Mr. Lovell noticed it featured the silhouette of a naked woman and let out a disapproving grunt.

“Got it for free,” Percy said, clearly lying.

“Wait here.” Mr. Lovell ignored the excuse and then went back into the Thirsty Alligator. He took a bottle of vodka from behind the bar, spun off the cap, and poured the liquid all over the bar, giving off a thick smell of alcohol. Turning to get another bottle, Mr. Lovell jumped at the sight of a large mirror.
 

Do something!

Mr. Lovell threw the empty bottle at the mirror, shattering it. With the mirror out of the way, he poured out a couple more bottles of liquor, enough to make sure the place would explode like wildfire. He sparked Percy’s lighter and tossed it on the floor. The flame touched the alcohol and burst to life, spreading out in both directions and burning through the wood with ease as it spread to other parts of the bar. Mr. Lovell used to hate fire, but after the incident with Trenton all those years ago, it didn’t frighten Mr. Lovell. There was nothing left of his body for the fire to take. The heat felt comforting against his scarred face. After the flames reached the walls, Mr. Lovell grabbed a bottle of Wild Turkey and rejoined the two men outside, holding the bottle out for Percy.

“For the lighter.”

Percy peeked through the Thirsty Alligator’s window, absorbing the inferno through his eyes. He was so caught up in the flames he didn’t notice the Wild Turkey until Mr. Lovell bumped it against his arm.
 

“Percy.”

“What? Oh, thanks.” Percy came out of his daze, unscrewed the cap and then took a swig of the liquor.
 

Bottles of liquor exploded, their contents making the flames even larger. The heat made all three of them take a few steps back. Trenton might have been the most excited of the group. Mr. Lovell’s stomach tickled to an almost unbearable degree. He rubbed his belly, hoping it would calm Trenton.

“Hope that chick’s got insurance,” Percy said, handing the Wild Turkey to Deckland.

Trenton’s excitement become too much to handle. The tickling felt like acid tearing away at Mr. Lovell’s insides, making him violently cough to the point of doubling over. It wasn’t only the fire that stoked Trenton’s enthusiasm. Phase Two ensured he would only grow in power, and keeping him safe would only become more hazardous. Percy tried to help his boss but was waved off.
 

“I’m fine,” Mr. Lovell coughed. Something warm moved up his throat. Blood. Both he and Trenton felt a shock of fear.