Ever Onward (25 page)

Then they rounded a bend and saw the
yellow jeep parked by a large wrought-iron fence. Two teenagers sat
drinking and smoking in the shade. Loud rock music blasted from
their vehicle so neither one heard a thing until Jocco’s dozer
plowed into the rear of the jeep.

As the sound of grinding metal reached
their foggy brains, both jumped up and grabbed for their guns. Both
were dead before the weapons were half way out.

The front gates were unlocked. A nudge
from the Toyota made them swing wide. Rat, reloading his smoking
Defender, looked back at Jocco for orders. Getting the go ahead, he
banged on the pick-up’s roof.

“Floor it, Reg. It’s fucking Miller
Time!”

The red Toyota roared up
the tree-lined drive, the dozer and the two cargo trucks
following.

Chad Hastings, or
Bad Chad
as
the rest of the Lost Boys called him, was out back by the pool. An
original Louis XIV table sat beside him, its gleaming surface
holding a crystal punchbowl half filled with pills. A veritable
smorgasbord of American Pie. Reds, whites and blues, mixed in with
uppers, downers and your ever-popular tabs of LSD. A box of very
stale donuts awaited for desert. A fifth of Scotch and a half gone
bottle of Southern Comfort was on hand to wash down this sumptuous
fair. Fittingly, Janis Joplin blared forth from a giant boom-box
near the pool while a couple of naked sun worshippers danced their
little teen-aged hearts out.

Relaxed in a lawn chair, Bad Chad
watched as their breasts, one pair small and upturned, the other
heavy as melons, bounced in time to the beat. The brunette sitting
astride both him and his lawn chair was already in orbit. Her
large, vacant eyes gazed dreamily off into space as she
simultaneously stroked him with one hand and herself with the
other. Bad Chad, however, hardly felt a thing. The uppers he had
taken on the way back from the Farmers Market back on Wilshire were
just starting to kick in with a vengeance! Somewhere in the fuzzy
distance, Janice n’ good ol’ bobby McGee gave way to The Byrds.
Eight Miles High n’, fallin’ fast!All around him the rest of the
Lost Boys were engaged in whatever depraved little personal
activity turned them on.

Through a world suddenly gone
mega-weird, Chaddy-baby saw Gears do a cannon ball off the diving
board. The water droplets from his splash seemed to take forever to
fall back to earth. Across the pool some blonde was treating Smoke
and Moose to a double feature. Through a haze of burnt meat and
burnt-out brain cells the Chadmyster saw Cowboy fanning flames at
the large Bar-B-Q. Down at the Market they’d picked up a bunch of
frozen steaks. Well, half frozen. Since the power had gone off a
couple of days ago, the thought flickered through Chad’s chemically
intoxicated mind that these might be the last steaks he’d ever eat.
For several reasons. So what?, a little voice said from deep inside
him. You can always phone out for pizza.

But even zonked as he was, Chad didn’t
need his two years at the U.of Southern Cal. to tell him that the
days of fast delivery were over n’ done. Just look the fuck around
ya, Bro! The world is deader than a fucking used condom!

Ya, Chaddy?, the little voice inside
him whispered. What about that fucking plane? Federalise on the
way? Narc Squad come to bust your lily white ass?

Chad took a swig of Southern Comfort,
but somehow didn’t feel too damn comfortable. Glancing up, he saw
that the brunette, now looking a hell of a lot like good old Janis
herself, had given up on the hand action and was working on
becoming a human shishcabob, using the lower part of himself as the
skewer.

Despite her actions, that little voice
in the back of Chad’s head kept churning out the goodies. Its all
over, Chad baby. The entire world just packed it in, leaving you
and these fun-seeking air-heads as tombstones. The Lost Boys my
ass! Gears, Dude, Cowboy, and any other walking-dead you find,
don’t mean shit! You can run, Chaddy-Waddy, but you can not hide.
Mr. Goodtime always leaves a bill, and sooner or later you have to
pay his price!

Chad shook his head in an effort to
still the voice, but only succeeded in making everything spin. The
world had receded to a hazy kind of Rockwellian nightmare. Even
good old Janis, now deeply in the saddle and wildly riding the
range, seemed like a twisted dream. Reality was the worm in his
head. That all seeing, all knowing worm that kept on broadcasting
the same message over and over. The Timex worm; takes a licking but
keeps on ticking.

And just what the fuck was this all
important message?

Simply this, Bro. That despite the
tough front, despite all the guns and the drugs and the
never-ending party,
Big Bad Chad was scared shitless
. The
fast talking, cool walking leader of the Lost Boys was no different
than any other lost child. Cold, tired and longing to go
home.

But there is no home to go to,
Chaddy!, the worm shouted gleefully. What ya see, Babe, is what ya
get! Yuka-yuka!

Trying to ignore the insane laughter
in his head, he focused on the brunette. Suddenly, beyond her
bouncing body, beyond the pool and the smoking Bar-B-Q, Chad caught
a glimpse of forms moving toward him. Leaning around Jumping Janis,
Chad saw more forms pouring out the large patio doors at the rear
of the house. Still others appeared on the upstairs
balcony.

Someone had changed the
tape. The Byrds had flown. Jimmy H. instead of Janis J.now pumped
out their dead lyrics. Gotta love those oldie n’ goldies! Purple
Haze roared all around him and washed through him. Vainly he shoved
the brunette aside and fought his way out of the
chair.

Excuse me, while I kiss the
sky!

He had made it half way when the shots
began. Gears, struck several times just as he reached the apex of
his dive, looked like an epileptic in mid seizure. His body,
riddled with holes, splashed into the clear water. Pink froth
flowed around him. Someone screamed. More shots followed. The
screaming stopped. The shots did not.

Chad frantically groped
around for the snub-nosed .38 he had stashed under his towel. The
weapon was almost in his grasp when a rifle butt slammed into his
head. Purple haze suddenly filled his mind ---
painfully.

“He’s coming around, Boss,” an excited
voice said.

“Good,” a cooler one replied. “Perhaps
a dip in the pool will speed things up.”

Chad heard the words as though from a
long way off. Part of him wondered who they were talking about.
Then rough hands grabbed him. A moment later he was weightless;
then gravity took over and he splashed into the pool. Water went up
his nose and down his throat. Opening his eyes for the first time,
he fought his way up toward the light. Gasping, he thrashed about.
Something was beside him. He clutched it to him. Gears’ face stared
back at him, a look of surprise frozen on his dead features.
Screaming, Chad shoved the body away. Then someone had him by the
hair. More pain followed. The concrete edge of the pool ground into
his stomach. Retching, he again opened his eyes. They focused on
polished combat boots. He promptly shut them again.

“Bring him here,”, the cold voice
said.

Chad didn’t like that voice. There was
something under its calm exterior that Big Bad Chad would rather
not get to know. It seemed, however, that he was to have very
little say in the matter. The rough hands were already lifting him
again.

“Look at me,” the cold voice
ordered.

Chad obeyed. He was afraid not to.
Pussbag’s bayonet was at his throat.

Jocco stood before him. His grey eyes
bore into him. Though there was a smile on his handsome face, the
eyes showed just the opposite. Chad was suddenly aware of his
nakedness. As he reached down to cover his genitals, a large woman
with brown stubble growing on her shaved head, sneered.

“Let it hang, Pretty Boy. So far its
the only part of you worth shit!”

Laughter followed, cut off quickly as
Jocco turned and frowned. Chad

reddened, but drew his hand away. Out
of the corner of his eye he saw several of the Lost Boys sprawled
on the ground. Four girls were huddled at the far end of the pool.
Chad’s former pool partner was among them. A man and a woman
dressed like soldiers and armed with military rifles stood guard
over the frightened group.

Jocco sat down beside the Louis XIV
table. As those wolf-grey eyes stared up at him, Chad felt his
knees grow weak. “What’s your name?” The cold voice grated against
Chad’s ears, yet he responded quickly. Jocco asked several more
questions, then told someone to give Chad a towel. He took it
gratefully.

“So, these ‘Lost Boys’ are
yours?”

Chad nodded.

Jocco smiled. “Not any more. As of
right now all of you are part of my little organization. I’m
forming an army. The Army of the Dark Stranger.” As he spoke he
drew one of the .45 automatics he carried in twin shoulder
holsters. “You and your friends can either join or die.” He cocked
his head to one side at the same time as he cocked the gun. “Which
is it to be?”

Chad almost wet himself right then and
there. These guys were for real!

What the fuck did you expect, Chaddy?,
the worm’s voice chortled from deep inside his head. I told you
that sooner or later you’d have to pay the piper. Shit or get off
the pot, Chaddy-boy, shit or get off the fucking pot.

The muzzle of the heavy .45 swung up.
To Chad it looked like the mouth of a really big cannon.

“I’m waiting,” Jocco
beamed.

“But you can’t...!”

The cannon boomed, taking with it
Chad’s objections as well as a tiny chunk of his left
ear.

“I’ll join! I’ll join! Just
fucking-well don’t shoot me again!”

The gun lowered. “I thought you’d see
the light.” Jocco turned to George the Man. “Bring them all into
the living room in five minutes. Dress the men but leave the women
naked. And get that body out of the pool.”

George saluted smartly, then began
barking orders. Chad and the others were hustled toward the large
mansion. Five minutes later, now dressed in shorts and a T-shirt,
Chad again found himself standing before the man with the wolf-grey
eyes.

There were eleven of them left. Chad
and the other six men stood in a line, their eyes downcast. Crazy
and Cowboy had at first refused to follow orders, but after Pussbag
sliced off Crazy’s ear, the Lost Boys jumped into line right quick.
Crazy, a towel pressed against the side of his head, needed to be
held up by Four Wheels and Cowboy. Chad could dig that. His own
‘ear-job’ was only a nick, but blood still trickled down into is
long hair. The four women, ranging in age from fourteen to
twenty-something, stood shivering in a huddle. Despite the heat,
goose bumps stood out on their naked flesh.

Jocco’s soldiers formed a circle
around them. The two women among them, Pam Gliss and a relative
newcomer named Eva Madeau, both brandished M-16’s. Pam the Bitch
looked tough. Eva Madeau looked tougher. Tim Galt had dubbed them
the Bitch and the Butch respectively. Pam seemed to have enjoyed
it. Eva had grabbed Tim by the balls till he howled.

The leader of the Army of the Dark
Stranger now addressed the Lost Boys. His tone was quiet and
commanding, a patient father instructing his wayward offspring. The
gist of it was this: Chad was now a sergeant, the Lost Boys was his
platoon. Jocco would return in a week or two; when he did he
expected to find things changed. Radically changed. The taking of
drugs would stop. The partying would stop. They would gather cases
of food and supplies from the local stores. They would comb the
city and bring any survivors back here. They would not mistreat
those they found, yet neither would they include any of them in
their group. When Jocco returned, all would be ‘tested’. As
sergeant, Chad would be held personally responsible for any and all
screw-ups. Did he and his little buddies all understand?

Most of the Lost Boys merely nodded.
Chad, however, heartily agreed. Ever since the Change --- hell,
even
before
it, he’d been caught up in a never-ending story
of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.

Party hearty,
Dude!

Yet underneath it all there had been
the fear. The heart-stopping, cock-softening, wake-in-the
middle-of-the-fucking-night kind of terror that made the family
jewels crawl up in a corner of your gut and cry Momma! Oh, he’d
hidden it from the others, and at times, even from himself, but
down deep the worm was always there, always eating away at
him.

And now Mr. Goodtime had indeed
delivered his bill just as Wormy-baby had said he would. A part of
Chad was even glad Jocco had come, for now he wouldn’t have to
worry about what decisions to make while trying desperately to look
cool.

Where to go; who to trust;
what the fuck to do?!

Now Jocco would see to all that. Bad
Chad was still leader of the Lost Boys, but now they weren’t lost
any more. Jocco had lifted a great weight from him, set him on a
path and given him a purpose --- and all it had cost him was an
empty crown that he never really wanted in the first
place.

Had he been there, Lt.
Walter Pinkton would have had an apt quote for the
occasion: