The Conch Shell of Doom (6 page)

 
“Thanks.” Franklin sipped his beer.
 

A TV hung in the corner of the bar, showing the Atlanta Braves playing the New York Mets. The Braves were up 3-2. Franklin reached into his jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper. On it was a drawing of the man he was meeting. Franklin got the description by torturing a man in Dallas that worked as a middleman for Mr. Lovell. The guy took beating after beating, holding out long after most would’ve given up. It wasn’t until Franklin played Kenny G. for eight straight hours that the man finally caved.
 

Torturing the man wasn’t one of Franklin’s finer moments, but he needed to know the location of the Awakening, along with how many of Trenton’s body parts had been found. Franklin couldn’t believe Mr. Lovell had found all of them. Franklin was so shocked, he snapped the man from Dallas’s neck without realizing it.

Twelve minutes and another Fat Tire later, a younger guy walked in, looking a lot like the one in Franklin’s drawing. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. He wore a cheesy plaid hat, and a short-sleeved button-down shirt with parrots on it. Several of the buttons were left undone, showing off a small patch of chest hair. Franklin thought the kid looked like a fool.

The bartender wiped down the bar. “That one looks like he wishes disco was popular again.”

Franklin winked at her. “Sadly, he’s with me. Two whiskey sours.”

“You sure he’s of age?”
 

“I’m pretty sure he’s of age.” Franklin took a hundred dollar bill from his wallet.
 

“Better be.” Julie took the money and got to work making the drinks.
 

He laid a couple of twenties on the bar, took the whiskey sours in hand, and walked over to the kid, who sat in a booth in the corner. Franklin eyed him like a hunter whose target was in his crosshairs. “Drink?”

“Cool.” The kid took it as Franklin sat down.

“I hear you’re a wayward traveler nearing your destination.” Franklin got the coded introduction from the man in Dallas.

“Oh, if you could see what these eyes have seen. Blah, blah, blah.” The guy extended his hand. “Percy Evans. You Mr. Lovell?”

Franklin shook Percy’s hand. “I am. You’re also thirty-one minutes late.”

Percy leaned back in his seat, pushing out the small patch of chest hair poking out of the shirt. “What can I say? Traffic was a bitch. Nice to finally put a face to the man. I almost wondered if you even had one.”

“Do you have the parts?”

“Out in the van. They were mad hard to come by. Going to cost you an arm and a leg, if you get my drift.” Percy laughed like a weasel.

“Only one of each?” Franklin fought off the urge to slap that stupid hat off Percy’s head.

“And the chest.” Percy sipped on his whiskey sour. “Weren’t the others your department?”

The question tripped Franklin up. He thought Percy would have all the parts. “I’ve got them.”

“You sure? Sounds like you had to think about it for a second.”

Not good. If Franklin wasn’t careful, their exchange would go sour in a hurry. He needed to get Percy more out in the open. There, he could point a gun at Franklin from under the table and nobody would notice until a shot went off. He noticed an empty pool table.
Perfect
.
 

“You play?”

“Only for money.”

Franklin let Percy lead the way over to the table. If he tried anything, Franklin could shove the guy to the floor. Franklin made sure to keep a close eye as Percy racked the balls. Once they were set, the young man picked up a pool cue and held it out in front of him, checking to see if the stick was straight.

Percy waved the cue around like a sword. “If I lose, it better not come out of my pay.”

“You may be the one paying me. Break ’em.”

“What do you say? Fifty a game? You should be good for it.”

“I am.”

Franklin grabbed a cue, inspecting it as he stood off to the side. Percy leaned forward to line up the shot, smoothly moving the cue back and forth between his fingers. He mishit the cue ball, sending it flying off the table. Franklin tried not to laugh as he picked it up. Why was he worried about Percy? The guy couldn’t even hit a cue ball.

“My bad,” Percy said. “I haven’t played in a while.”

“That’s game, isn’t it?” Franklin set the cue ball on the table. “Scratch on the opening shot and you lose.”

Percy laughed and slid his cue across the table. “You got me there. I’m tired of games, though. What about you?”
 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Franklin knew exactly what Percy was talking about, but Franklin just wanted to see what the piss ant would do.

Percy pulled a small pistol out from behind him and held it close, keeping it out of view from the rest of the bar.

Franklin glanced at the gun.
What an idiot
. Pulling a gun out in a public place? It was insulting. And disrespectful. “Really?”

“That wayward traveler line? It’s Morse Code for trouble.”

Damn. The man from Dallas held out all that time, only to set a trap for Franklin. He was doubly impressed. The man from Dallas was a true believer.

Percy laughed. “You’re off your meds if you think I’ve never met Mr. Lovell. You’re way too pretty to pass as him.”
 

Huh?
Franklin arched an eyebrow. “Pretty?”
 

“You know what I mean. Boss man has that burnt pepperoni face. Plus, you sound nothing like him. Try lowering it a few thousand octaves next time, hack.”

Franklin set the stick against the wall and moved in front of the pool table. He picked up the cue ball behind him. “I got plastic surgery. That face cramped my style. I also started gargling salt water. Does wonders for the larynx. Just put the gun down, okay? Don’t be stupid.”

“We both know there’s not enough plastic surgery in the world to help that pepperoni pizza face of his.” Percy’s chest puffed out, as if he were trying to build up his courage. “Don’t worry. When I’m done with you, your face will be uglier than his.”

Franklin forced himself to not laugh at the tough guy act. He played with the ball behind him and stared at Percy’s left eye. The perfect target. “Is that really how you want to play this?”

“Ain’t no other way.”

“Okay.”

Franklin flung the white ball as hard as he could, hitting Percy in the eye with a soft, deep thud. He jerked back and his hat fell off, an unexpected bonus for Franklin. Percy tripped over a chair and fell on his back, screaming so high his voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old boy's. Franklin rushed over, snatched up the gun, and jammed it under Percy’s chin.

“You ready to die for Mr. Lovell?” Franklin’s rage begged him to pull the trigger.

“My eye, man!” Spit fell out of Percy’s mouth. “I think you killed it!”

Some of the patrons rose from their seats to get a look.
Great. Killing was so much easier before phones and cameras. Somebody witness a killing? Bonk ‘em on the head and you’re in the clear. Not anymore!
Franklin pointed the gun away and then hid it from view of the other people. They didn’t need to know all the details.
 

“Stop whining.” He pulled Percy’s hand away. “Let me see.”

“No, man, get off me!”
 

“Calm down, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.”

Percy’s temple was dented and his eyeball stuck out almost a half-inch farther than it should. Franklin grimaced. He didn’t mean to crush part of Percy’s skull. Franklin set Percy’s hand back on his face.

“Yeah, you may want to get that looked at,” Franklin said.

“You think? Asshole.”

“I’ll give you that one.” Franklin pulled Percy to his feet. He wobbled around, trying to stand on his own.

“That’s enough,” Julie said behind both of them. “You tourists. Think you can come in my bar and tear the place down? I don’t think so.”

“No need for declarations of strength,” Franklin said. “We’re leaving.”

“How’s this for a declaration of strength? I called the cops, so sit your asses down and cool off until they get here.”

“I’m cool, baby,” Percy said.

“Yeah, you look it.”

Franklin made sure to keep Percy between Julie and himself. She held a double-barreled shotgun, aimed right at his chest. Franklin found the sight of a beautiful woman pointing a shotgun at him undeniably sexy.

“We don’t want any trouble from the police, and you don’t want to shoot anybody.” Franklin jabbed Percy in the back with the gun, forcing him to take a step forward. “So let’s all take a deep breath and—”

Franklin shoved Percy into Julie, knocking them both over. The bartender lost control of the shotgun as she landed on a table. It tipped over, spilling her onto the floor. Franklin stuffed Percy’s gun in his jacket and then picked up the shotgun with one hand and Percy with the other. Franklin couldn’t believe how fast things got out of control. He really was slipping.

“Sorry, but I can’t let you or anybody else get in my way,” Franklin said to Julie. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

She held the back of her head with her hand. “Just get the hell out of here.”

Franklin squeezed Percy’s shoulder. “You heard the lady.”

The two burst out of the Thirsty Alligator. Percy’s van was illuminated by the parking lot’s lone lamppost. It looked exactly like the one used by the
A-Team
, complete with the red stripe and spoiler on top.

“Nice van,” Franklin said.

“Yeah. I loved looking at it with
both
of my
eyes, douche nozzle.”

Franklin ignored the remark. He deserved it. “Where’s the stuff?”

“In the back.”

Franklin forced Percy around to the rear of the van and then shoved him up against it a little harder than intended.

“Sorry.”

Percy screamed again. “Damn it! Do you want my eyeball to fall out?”

Franklin patted down Percy’s pants for the keys. “I don’t, but you pulled a gun on me. I tend to forget my manners when that happens.”

“Right, yeah. Blame this on me. It’s all my fault.”

Franklin grabbed Percy’s keys and unlocked the van. Time was running out. The police would be there soon. He shoved Percy in the van’s cargo area, next to a couple of large coolers. Franklin pointed at them.

“Are those… them?”

“You’ve got two eyes. Use them.”

Franklin took a peek inside the first cooler and recoiled from the stench of rotting flesh. It wasn’t the first, or even hundredth time he’d come across that odor, but he never could get used to it. The cooler contained an arm and a leg, both mummified and juicy. Trenton’s body didn’t decompose at the same rate as normal bodies, because it couldn’t technically die. The parts merely lay in wait, holding on until they could be awakened. Franklin’s immortality ended the second his head became detached from his body. Then again, Trenton was a master of dark arts. Franklin merely paid a drunken shaman to do the job.

The other cooler held a torso, also mummified and juicy. Franklin felt a small sense of accomplishment at finding the body parts, but with so much left to do to stop Trenton from awakening and destroying everything in his path, it mostly felt like checking items numbered nine, ten, and eleven off a list of three thousand.

“There. Happy?” Blood spilled from Percy’s eye socket, past his jawbone. “Can I go now? I want to get my eyeball fixed.”

Franklin dragged the coolers out with his free hand, letting them fall to the ground on their side. Trenton’s arm and leg spilled onto the parking lot.

“Jesus.” Julie gawked at the body parts.

Franklin jerked back at the sight of her.
Why? Why would you come out here?
Seeing everything only put her in danger. He slammed the van door shut, moving to block her view from Trenton’s remains. “Forget you ever saw this stuff. Trust me on that one.”

“How? What?” Julie’s body shook. “My God.”

Franklin ejected the shells from the shotgun and handed the weapon over. Hands free, he reached inside his pants leg to pull out the Blade of Hugues de Payens from its brand new sheath.

“Whoa. You got it, man.” Julie took a step back, holding the shotgun away from her. “I didn’t see a thing, I don’t remember talking to you, and I damn sure don’t remember that gigantic knife of yours.”

Franklin ground his teeth. He didn’t have time to mess around. “Damn it.”

Sirens sounded in the distance. Time to quit stalling. He stabbed the arm and leg with the blade. They turned black, then withered into ash, the flakes carried away by the breeze.

“Don’t do that, dude.” Percy sat up, legs hanging off the back of the can. “I had a bitch of a time finding them.”

Franklin glanced at him. “I thought you were going to the hospital.”

“I was. I am. I’ll just—” Percy crawled into the driver’s seat and started the van.

The muffler spewed exhaust in Franklin’s face, making him cough. The rear doors hadn’t been closed, and they moved back and forth as the van sped out of the parking lot and out of sight. With Percy gone, Franklin knocked over the other cooler with his foot, spilling the torso onto the asphalt. He couldn’t help but smile as the blade destroyed his brother’s chest.

Julie still shook. Eyes watering, she seemed both horrified and curious. “Who are you?”

“Nobody you need to worry about.” Franklin returned the blade to its sheath. He took out his wallet, grabbed a few hundred-dollar bills, and then tucked them into Julie’s pocket. Money wouldn’t make her feel better. Franklin knew that. What Julie saw would probably bother her for years to come. Chances were it’d drive her to drink as she struggled to reconcile it with her understanding of reality. Still, Franklin had to do
something
, even if it was as petty as shoving a few bucks in her hand. “For all the trouble.”

The sirens got louder. For the first time in decades, he felt guilty about something. Julie’s wide eyes and trembling lips made it loud and clear how terrified Franklin made her. He’d seen the look too many times over his lifetime. It always made him feel like the bad guy. One of these days, his infinite existence would end, and he could enjoy a Trenton-free life as a mortal. Until then he had work to do.