Whatever Remains (What Now?)
Posted By J.C. Montgomery on March 25, 2009
Filed Under Excerpts, Horror | Leave a Comment
Horace stopped in the doorway, stunned at what he saw: Tom lying beneath one overweight, pissed off, and completely naked Hank Daniels. If it weren’t for the fact that Tom was already dead, the sheer force of the blows he was receiving would’ve been enough to do him in – again.
Turning his head toward the door while trying to deflect Hanks murderous rage, Tom forlornly looked at his friend with What Now? etched on his face.
Horace could only shrug a response.
Tom’s eyes widened in horror as he watched Anne appear with a butcher knife and stride up to the angry mound of naked flesh sitting on his chest.
“Let go of him asshole, or I’ll make sure the next time you die there won’t be enough of you left to fill a condom. In fact, I think that will be the first thing I cut off.”
Hank, surprised by the female voice and the intent behind it, stopped the assault on his rescuer and looked up at Anne.
“What kinda bullshit trick is this? You’re dead. I saw it in the paper.”
“Yeah, well so are you. Now why don’t you get your fat sorry ass off my friend and help us figure out what the hell is going on around here.”
Stunned, Hank rolled off Tom and scooted against the wall furthest away from the knife wielding woman. Horace quickly grabbed Tom under the arm pits and pulled him up to a sitting position. Not once did any of them take their eyes off the glinting steel in Anne’s hand. It was obvious from the way she was holding it she meant business.
She pointed it toward Horace first. “You. Get Holyfield here some clothes.”
Tom was next.
“You. Go make some coffee. Me? I’m gonna get that bottle of Jack Hoffy keeps hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk. This calls for some liquid fortification.”
As she hit the doorway, she turned waving her weapon slowly in front of her, stopping briefly to point at each man separately. When done, she only said three words, “Behave. Or else.”
Spinning, she strode down the hallway toward Horace’s office.
A few moments of silence followed before a disembodied voice commanded, “Now, gentleman. I don’t have all night!”
Immediately, all three men got to their feet. Tom headed for the kitchen, while Horace looked at Hank trying to figure out if he had anything that would fit him.
Finally realizing he was naked, Hank looked down at himself and said, “What happened to my clothes?”
“Pretty much destroyed in the blast. And whatever was left, is still being held in evidence.”
“Oh. Can you fix me up or not?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind wearing the caretaker’s overalls. You and he seem to be built about the same. Also, as luck would have it, the man has a thing for baseball caps, I’m sure we can find one that fits.”
“Baseball cap? Why do I need one of those?”
Horace stared at the top of Hank’s head. It was apparent he must’ve been bending over the pipe bomb when it went off. At that point Hank reached up and realized himself why he’d been offered a hat.
“If you’d rather, I have some cowboy hats I kept after that stampede mishap at the county fair last year. One of ‘em should fit you.”
“I’ll stick with the cap if you don’t mind.”
“Good. Let’s get you dressed then.” Shaking his head as they started for the back, Horace wondered what else could make this night any more of a disaster than it already was.
Just then, fate decided to make Horace’s worst nightmare come true. A loud chime sounded as someone entered the front door.
“Horace? Horace, you here? I’ve got those Christmas car …”
Both men turned in time to see Horace’s mother faint face first into the entry way.
“Damn Horace,” Hank noted, “You really should keep that front door locked at night.”
“Ya think?”
© J.C. Montgomery 2009. All Rights Reserved.
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