Jungle Fever broke his bass guitar over the head of thehillbilly, and that's when all hell broke loose in the club. Clara didn't seethe rest of what happened, but she crawled to where Courtney was holding hisface. Together, they helped each other to their feet, and then pushed their wayoutside, through drunken and riotous punks and away from the unbridled violencein the club. A bouncer brushed past them, but she doubted that he would be ableto stop the violence.
"Are you okay?" Clara asked. The ringing in herears and the buzz of the alcohol had her head swimming, and she felt as if shewas going to faint. But she didn't... because, as she always liked to put it,fainting is for pussies.
Courtney shook his head, and tried to focus his eyesbefore he spoke. "Yeah, I think so. Jesus Christ. What the fuck was that?Did you see that guy?"
"Did you do something to him?"
Courtney shook his head a little more, still trying tofocus, "No, he just grabbed me and took a bite out of my fucking face. Howis it?"
He removed his tattooed hand from his face and exposedthe raw wound, which was still bleeding profusely. Sweat covered his forehead,and steam rose from the blood on his face as it met the night air.
"Well, you're lucky you're good in bed, because thatis going to be one nasty scar. C'mon, we better get you to the hospital. Thatguy might have had rabies or something."
Chapter 7: Through a Garden Hose
Zeke snuck up on the car from behind, secretly hopingthat maybe he'd catch a peek of something, maybe a tit or two. It was alwayspractical to sneak up on a car from the rear, and as an added bonus he mightjust catch a quick visual snatch of flesh, which wouldn't be a terrible thing.
The car was an '80s model station wagon. The fenders wererusted out, which was hard to see due to the car's classy copper paintjob,which was only made classier by the wood paneling on the side. He laughedinside as he wondered what moron thought it would be a good idea to put fakewood paneling on the side of a car.
He moved slowly, squatting down with his gun at theready. He flinched as the car rocked violently. They must really be going atit, he thought. Zeke crept up the passenger side of the car, heel to toe.He could hear the wet, slopping sounds of intimacy from the cracked window ofthe passenger side. From all of the slurping noises, he bet the whore couldsuck a golf ball through a garden hose. There was definitely a chance that hewas going to see something.
As the passenger seat came into view, he caught sight ofa large pair of lily white buttocks. The smile that had crept onto his facedisappeared, when he caught site of some crimson. The hooker wasn't having sexat all. She was literally eating the man. Facedown in his guts, she wouldn't haveeven known he was there if a single word hadn't slipped from his mouth like thesecrets of a two-year-old. "Jesus."
The sound caught the hooker's attention, and she swungaround, quicker than he would have expected. Her face bashed into the window ofthe station wagon, smearing blood all over the glass. Zeke flinched backwards,unsure of what to do for the first time in his life. If this had been enemyterritory, there wouldn't be any questioning at all... simply a corpse with abullet in her head, but this wasn't over there. This was home.
The woman bashed her face into the window again and stuckher fingers out the tiny crack of the window. She was frantic. She spit andslobbered in her efforts to get at him. He leveled his Desert Eagle at her, butdidn't pull the trigger. "Stay right there," he commanded weakly."Stay right there!" he said again with a little of that boot campauthority that had made him so popular in the army.
She didn't listen. Civilians never listened. In reply shereared back and smashed her face through the passenger side window, sendingsafety glass pattering to the ground. His finger tensed on the trigger, but hedidn't pull it. Instead he backed away as the hooker began crawling out of thepassenger seat, a shard of glass sticking out of her eye. She fell to theground awkwardly, and he heard a crack as a piece of bone jutted out of herright arm.
"Bath salts. That's what this is. This bitch is onbath salts."
The woman stood up, unconcerned about the blood that wasspurting out of her arm or her damaged eye. "Stay where you fucking are,or I'm going to shoot you in the face!" he yelled. She didn't even seem tohear him. In reply, she raised her good arm in his direction and stumbledtoward him. She tried to raise her broken arm, and she was successful... atleast halfway. The lower half of her arm dangled down limply just below herelbow.
That was enough for Zeke. He squeezed the trigger, andsent a round through the woman's knee. For a second, it seemed like the bullethad no effect, but when she took her next shambling step, the knee crumpled andshe fell over on her side. Zeke backed up even more, and tripped over the onlything in his yard that no one had bothered to steal, an old garden gnome thathad travelled with him wherever he went.
He cracked his head against the bottom step of his porch,and his vision swam in front of him. Comet trails and floaters tried to blockthe vision of the hooker crawling toward him, but he could barely make out heroutstretched arm reaching for his
