The Suburban Book of the Dead_The Remake (Armageddon Trilogy 3)

  Rex wasn’t thinking about Coca Cola. He was thinking, what if this wally Woodbine really is the hero of this novel. . .

  oo.oo

  ‘Oh gO.Od gOd.’

  The explosion ripped the cab apart. The black car soared away as mangled fragments spiralled into the sky. The tyres went and the petrol tank ignited. The alley walls absorbed the shock and a bloody mushroom cloud rose above the devastation now occurring behind the Tomorrowman Tavern

  ‘Gotcha!’ The other Rex clapped his hands together. ‘Mission accomplished. Let’s go and have a drink.’

  15

  53. And so great was the love of the people for Elvis that they made many laws. That all should honour him by being like unto him.

  54. That all should dress as him and be as him in all ways of thought.

  55. And they did cry aloud in one voice saying, ‘There is no God but Elvis nor has there ever been.’

  The Suburban Book of the Dead

  ‘Well, well, well.’ The barman at the Tomorrowman Tavern wiped his gloved hands on his leather apron. ‘If it isn’t the chap off the telly again. I never saw you come in.’ Rex blinked at him. ‘What the ... I mean . . . how . . . I?’

  The barman eyeballed Rex’s bundle. ‘What you got in there? Money, I hope. I cashed in your driver’s watch. It was a bleeding Piaget copy. You still owe me bucks for those Bigfoot noses.’ ‘What am I doing here? Surely I’m . . .’

  ‘Dead?’ I tipped my hat, for I was there also.

  ‘Yes, dead. Blown up.’

  ‘Blown up?’ The barman fixed Rex with another of his one-eyed show-stoppers. ‘Was that your racket in my alley just now? If you’ve damaged any of my trashcans you’re in for it.’

  Rex gave me the glance. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Search me.’ I was more baffled than a pregnant postulant in a eunuch’s prefab. ‘We were there and now we’re here.’

  ‘Get the drinks in then,’ says Chico. ‘Mine’s a Pernod and lemonade. The lemonade’s for Harpo.’

  ‘You what?’ said I.

  ‘Get the drinks in and I’ll tell you how I did it.’

  ‘How you did it?’

  ‘What have you got in that bundle?’ The barman craned his head across the counter. ‘That a dwarf in there or what?’

  ‘It’s a ventriloquist’s dummy,’ said Rex hurriedly. ‘For a new show I’m doing called Rex Mundi’s Big Night Out. It’s a quality act. Gottle a geer, gottle a geer.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ said the barman.

  ‘Two bottles of Bud and a Pernod and a lemonade,’ said I.

  ‘Nice hat,’ said the barman.

  ‘Take it,’ said I.

  ‘I want me mum,’ said Harpo.

  ‘Very poor,’ said the barman, taking my titfer and perching it on his head. ‘If it’s quality you’re looking for, then I’m your man. I do them all. Songs from the shows. Oldies but goodies. Great literary figures past and present. Who’s this then?’ He pulled the hat down over his eye and made a peculiar face.

  ‘I haven’t the faintest. Give us the drinks, please.’

  ‘Not until you’ve guessed.’

  ‘Oh, all right then, Iris Murdoch.’

  ‘Got it in one. Told you I was good.’ The barman turned away to fetch the drinks. ‘Iris Murdoch?’ Rex asked.

  ‘Sure, who did you think?’

  ‘I thought it was Doris Lessing.’

  ‘Doris Lessing?’ I let a smile dwell upon my lips. ‘Buddy, in my line of work, knowing your Iris Murdock from your Doris Lessing can mean the difference between chewing on the curate’s egg or sighing for the fleshpots of Egypt. If you catch my drift. And I’m sure that you do.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Rex made a peculiar face of his own, but I couldn’t put a name to it. ‘You see to the drinks. I’ll take Harpo/Chico over to a nice quiet corner.’

  ‘Sounds about right to me.’ I swapped a couple of impersonations with the barman. He nearly caught me out with his C. S. Lewis, but I had him sewn up like a kipper with my Hermann Hesse. He thought it was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Must have been the trenchcoat.

  I left him to muse on my brilliance and joined Rex in the quiet corner, where the brat was holding court.

  ‘I bring greetings from a distant star,’ said Chico Nixon. ‘I have been made privy to the wisdom and knowledge of the Galactic Great Folk, and have returned here to solve all the world’s problems.’

  ‘That sounds most encouraging,’ said Rex, who was changing the cosmic messenger’s kecks. He had got himself a bar cloth and a bunch of paperclips and looked like he meant business. ‘I haven’t any talcum, I’m afraid, and you’ve got a bit of nappy rash here. When was the last time you were changed?’

  ‘Time is a human concept. It has no universal existence.’

  ‘Fair enough. I’ll just clip you up, then.’

  ‘Please spare yourself the trouble.’

  I don’t know how the little sucker did it. But the next thing we knew he was all kitted out in a blue and white sailor suit, smelling sweetly of baby lotion and with not a wet patch to be seen. Real cute he looked. Except for the two ugly heads, of course.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Rex asked, which spared me the bother.

  ‘The same way I got us out of the alleyway when the grenade blew up.’

  ‘Does it have anything to do with the trans-perambulation of pseudo-cosmic anti-matter?’

  ‘Nothing whatsoever. This is the power of The Word.’

  Well, I’ve never had a lot of truck with the power of the word so I’m not into oral sects. ‘How does that work exactly?’ I enquired.

  ‘Through forces beyond your wildest imaginings.’

  I give the kid the kind of wink you could make a movie out of. ‘My imaginings are pretty wild,’ I told him.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Making jungle love to a lady wrestler across your office desk, while her twin sister rubs halibut oil into the epaulets of your trenchcoat isn’t all that wild. Weird, but not wild.’

  ‘How did you know I was imagining that? If I was. ‘Which I wasn’t.’

  ‘He was,’ said Chico.

  ‘I’ll bet he was,’ said Rex. ‘Do you want a straw with that Pernod?’

  ‘No, I can manage thank you. You’d make a good father, Rex. You were very protective back there in the cab. I appreciate that.’

  ‘And I appreciate you saving my life. Thank you very much indeed.’

  ‘Now see here.’ I took a wet from my bottle. ‘This is all very cosy. And I thank you likewise. But what is all this about? What do you want?’

  ‘I want me mum,’ said Harpo. ‘Pass my lemonade please.’

  Rex passed it over. ‘I could phone your mum if you like. Get her to come and collect you.’

  ‘Very civil of you.’ Both heads nodded, but Chico did all the talking. ‘The number’s in the book. Please inform the parents that my brother and I are in the best of health. But that we are being held in protective custody in a special private clinic. No visitors allowed. We have a serious mission to accomplish, we four and I don’t want them getting in the way.’ 203

  ‘We four?’ My Bud went down the wrong way and I had a fit of choking. ‘What is this we four all of a sudden?’

  ‘Talk it out amongst yourselves.’ Rex dumped the two-headed sailor-boy back on my knee and took off for the phone.

  ‘Here’s looking at you, kids,’ said I, raising my bottle.

  ‘I’m thinking,’ Johnny Dee raised his glass and took thinking sips, ‘perhaps we acted just a tad rashly.’

  He, Kelley and the other Rex were back in the top-secret room. Barry was still locked in the bucket. The bucket was locked in a cupboard.

  ‘This thought has taken the occasional jaunt through my mind,’ Ed agreed. ‘Now that we have killed off Rex and Woodbum, we seem to have killed off our chances of having them lead us to the Presley hoard.’

  The other Rex took a slug of Old Bedwetter and spat it in a flaming plume at the both of them
. ‘You craven dullards. Haven’t you worked out where the hoard is yet?’

  His cowering cronies raised their heads above the table-top. ‘No, excellency,’ they said.

  ‘It’s in the Butcher Building.’

  ‘No sir, it’s not.’ Johnny shook his head, which was a trifle singed on the top. ‘We searched that place from top to bottom. It’s not there.’

  ‘Oh yes it is.’

  ‘Oh no it’s not.’

  The other Rex took another large swig. But this time he swallowed it. ‘Reason it out for yourselves. Barry leaves Elvis there. We go there. Rex is there and Woodbine is there. All roads lead to the Butcher Building. And this,’ he pulled Lazlo’s map from his pocket and flung it across the table, ‘The great detective left this behind when he and Rex fled from his office last night. X marks the spot. You really should have known about this, shouldn’t you?’

  ‘But excellency, we searched the building.’

  ‘All of the building?’

  ‘All, yes.’

  ‘Tell me, Ed, if you were in possession of the most valuable collection of artworks in mankind’s history, where would you keep them?’

  ‘In a bloody great. . . ah . ..’ said Ed. ‘A bloody great vault.’

  ‘I knew you’d get there in the end.’

  ‘But the lift buttons only went down to the ground floor.’ Ed made little finger pointings.

  ‘Really? You didn’t happen to notice another big button with SECRET VAULT FULL OF STOLEN TREASURE printed in big letters above it then?’

  ‘No, excellency. I’m sure I would have noticed.’

  The other Rex rose from his chair, leaned across to Ed Kelley and bit off his right ear. ‘Oooh and owww!’ wailed Ed. ‘Give it back.’

  The other Rex spat the ear on to the table. Ed snatched it up and tried vainly to stick it back on.

  ‘Let me put it simply for you.’ The villain licked his lips. ‘In a little over twenty-four hours Presley City vanishes from the face of the Earth. We know that it does, but we don’t know why. No-one seems to know why. Do you know why, Johnny? Take your hands away from your ears, Johnny. Do you know why?’

  No, Johnny didn’t know why.

  ‘Barry languishes in the bucket, bereft of his awesome time travelling powers. The Volvo is gone to who knows where. Do you know where?’

  No, Johnny didn’t know where.

  ‘So where does that leave us?’

  ‘Up shit creek,’ Johnny suggested. The bottle of Old Bedwetter flew past his ducking head and smashed against a wall.

  ‘It does, I agree, present certain difficulties regarding my intentions to destroy Presley, wipe out all memory of him, rewrite history and let chaos and evil reign supreme. But all is not yet lost, because I have a plan.’

  Ed had got his ear back on. Upside down. ‘I like a plan,’ said he. ‘Are we talking demonic stratagems here?’

  ‘We are.’

  ‘Fiendish plots of an unsurpassingly vile nature?’

  ‘That’s the fella.’

  ‘A Satanic conspiracy aimed at the total destruction of all that is good, pure and true?’

  The Anti-Rex smiled sweetly upon Ed Kelley, leaned forward as if to kiss his cheek and ripped off his other ear. ‘I am talking no more Mr Nice Guy,’ said he.

  Rex returned with a tray of drinks, which I raised an eyebrow to.

  ‘I’ve just given the barman his own show on the telly,’ he explained, handing them around. ‘I told Mrs Nixon her offspring were blooming. She said to say hello to Harpo for her.’

  ‘Hello, mum,’ said Harpo.

  ‘What about me?’ The head called Chico wore a wounded expression.

  ‘I’m sure she loves you too,’ Rex did an encouraging, but unconvincing, face.

  ‘Chico’s been telling me all kinds of interesting stuff.’ I patted the brat. ‘Seems he’s been chosen to be the voice of Interplanetary Parliament here on Earth. And he’s picked you out to help him Rex. That’s why he had Frank and Don, the space guys, zap Asmodeus. And he can do all kinds of really neat magic. Show Rex the trick with the beer mats, Chico.’

  ‘Are you sure mum didn’t ask after me?’

  ‘Would lying help?’

  ‘No, I’d see right through it.’

  ‘What is the trick with the beer mats?’

  ‘Chico can change them into twenty-dollar bills.’

  ‘But there aren’t any beer mats on the table.’

  ‘Not any more.’ I patted my pockets.

  Rex took a seat. I kept a firm hold of the lovable little rascal on my knee. ‘Could you make diamonds out of pocket fluff?’ I enquire, in an avuncular fashion.

  ‘Laz, before you get your trusty Smith and Whatever platinum plated, don’t you think we should be getting down to the business, which is your business. If you catch my drift. And I’m sure that you do.’

  ‘My mum doesn’t love me,’ wailed Chico.

  ‘Get outta town.’ I gave the kid a chooky-chooky on the chin. ‘I only met you a half hour ago and I love you like one of my own.’

  ‘It’s because I’m ugly, isn’t it?’

  ‘Ugly? Kid, you’re beautiful. Now about this pocket fluff.’

  ‘My mother hates me.’ Chico made the kind of face that only a mother could love. But obviously not his.

  ‘Kid,’ I told him. ‘You’re lucky. I never had a mother.’

  ‘Laz,’ said Rex. ‘Everybody had a mother.’

  ‘Not me, buddy, I was conceived by a writer of detective fiction.’

  There is no answer to that.’

  ‘I’ll have myself decerebrated,’ moaned Chico. ‘Surgically removed.’

  ‘I’ll do it for you,’ Harpo chipped in. ‘It’s no skin off my nose.’

  ‘Oh, got a sense of humour all of a sudden, have we? Take that.’

  Chico caught Harpo on the chin with a right uppercut. Harpo countered with a left hook.

  ‘Children.’ Rex waded in to hold the struggling arms apart. ‘This is no way to behave.’

  ‘Chico started it.’

  ‘Yah to you, mummy’s boy.’

  ‘That’s enough. Chico, you should know better. You’re supposed to be the voice of Interplanetary Parliament.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said I. ‘You got more important things to do than fight with your brother. You should be using your magical powers for the good of mankind.’

  “You’re quite right.’ Chico made with the nods. ‘I have a destiny to fulfil. Tell you what, I’ll say The Word and transfer Harpo’s head on to your shoulder.’

  ‘No, no. Hold hard there.’ I bounced the bonny bicephalous back to Rex. ‘Stick him on your pal here. He’s the good father.’

  ‘Oh no I’m not.’

  ‘Oh yes you are.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Rex put on a fierce face. ‘Quite enough. We don’t have time for all this nonsense.’

  ‘Nonsense?’ If I’d had my hat I’d have taken it off to the guy. You need a certain kind of front to breeze in from an alternative reality in the back of a time-travelling Volvo and sit in a Presley City bar, with a two-headed nipper on your lap, complaining to a private dick from the twenty-fifth century that you don’t have time for nonsense. Or perhaps you don’t.

  ‘Okay,’ said I. ‘Let’s talk turkey.’

  ‘Harpo/Chico?’ Rex asked.

  ‘All right.’ Chico shrugged his shoulder.

  ‘Harpo?’

  ‘Just tell Chico to stay off my back.’

  ‘Our back.’

  ‘Our back then.’

  ‘All right. Sorry bruv.’

  ‘Good.’ Rex bobbed the babe. ‘Now the way I see it, we all want something. Laz here wants the Presley hoard. Chico wants to solve all the world’s problems. Harpo wants his mum. And I want-’

  ‘Rex.’ I interjected ‘We don’t have enough hours left to hear all the things you want.’

  ‘Quite so. But I’m sure if we all pool our resources we might all be able to get exactly what we all wan
t.’

  ‘I can dig that.’ I could dig that. ‘Speak on,’ said I with more encouragement than a Brahman temple dancer at a Brown Shirt’s bump supper.

  ‘I shall. Now I don’t pretend to have the answer. Because I don’t know what the question is. But I know this. Crawford is here, the Devil himself is here, dressed up to look like me. I’m here, you’re here. Everybody’s here and something very big is about to happen.’

  ‘Er, Rex?’ Harpo put his hand up.

  ‘Yes, Harpo?’

  ‘Rex, did you have a lot of success in your other books? Excuse me for asking, but you seem a bit of a ...’

  Harpo made wrist jerks at his nappy region.

  ‘Oh thanks very much. I happen to be the hero, you know.’

  ‘I’m the hero, Rex.’ I gave the old trenchcoat a tap or two.

  ‘I’m the hero. I mean, we are the hero.’ Harpo/Chico did synchronized chest drumming

  A little green voice in a lead bucket said, ‘I’m the hero actually, chief.’ But none present heard it.

  ‘All right.’ Rex threw up his hands and nearly sent Superbrat tumbling. ‘Everybody’s the hero. I don’t care. All I want to do is get out of this one alive. Go back to my wife and garden. Dig my septic tank and live happily ever after.’

  ‘Then you’ll really go for my plan,’ said Chico.

  ‘And that is my plan,’ said Laura to Jonathan. ‘What do you think?’

  Jonathan stroked his pointy little chin. ‘I like it,’ said he. ‘In fact, I love it. As long as your revolutionary chums do their bit, I can’t see anything standing in our way.’

  ‘And that’s Laura’s plan,’ said Kevin. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Is that all of it?’ a Child of the Revolution enquired. ‘It seems a bit short. The way it just sort of ends in the first sentence.’

  ‘My biro ran out.’ Kevin explained. ‘I went off to get another one and when I got back to the phone she said “have you got it?” and I thought she meant the new biro, so I said yes and she said goodbye and hung up.’