Page 36 of The Wrong Dead Guy


  They’ll never see it coming.

  He dialed a number.

  “Hello?”

  “Morty, those guys you got the Tweak box from, didn’t you say they had a little antigravity gizmo? Does it work? How would you like to steal it for me? One night. Oh, and a truck. By morning, I figure I’ll either be dead or in the clear mummy-wise.”

  In the end, Harkhuf didn’t kill Kevin. He and Shemetet didn’t kill any of the new thralls. They just abandoned them to their fate in the L Wing. The good news was that by then, DOPS security had gained the upper hand and was beating back the hideous horde that had been on the loose all day. The bad news was that the antiquities staff had to explain how they helped resurrect a mad mummy and kick-start its army. Also, there was the Terry situation. Lastly, there was the brownie. No one, especially Kevin, wanted to have to explain how the world might be destroyed because he and Susan were cheating on their diets.

  It was nearly midnight. Behind Sheriff Wayne Jr.’s car dealership, Harkhuf and Shemetet looked admiringly at their growing army. After just a few hours of work, they’d supplemented the DOPS mummies and animals with thousands of Forest Lawn’s dead and the natural history museum’s lions, tigers, bison, gorillas, and elephants. While they were there, they also picked up a T. rex, a triceratops, a couple of pterodactyls, a herd of velociraptors, and a Stegosaurus. Earlier in the day, they’d resurrected some skeletal celebrities at Hollywood Forever, but the latter were more concerned with contacting their now deceased managers and agents than in world conquest, so nobody paid much attention to them.

  “I swear, Minerva, this is a bigger clusterfuck than when Coop dumped that tusked mongrel in my lap,” said the Sheriff.

  “And how did that work out for you?” she said.

  “Fine at first. Donna and me loaded up a flatbed with all kinds of statues, paintings, furniture, solid-gold cutlery, and what have you. Then, in the morning, the truck was gone.”

  “And so was Donna. And what is the lesson in that?”

  “Don’t trust bitches?”

  “No,” Minerva said. “It’s that investing in things is always a losing proposition. Things break. Go out of style. Exes walk off with them. What you really want to invest in is the future. And that’s just what this is.”

  The Sheriff pulled her into his office, out of mummy earshot. “I don’t know how I feel about this. All these dead things walking around? I was raised by good Baptist folks. If they could see me now.”

  “Save the sob story for your memoirs, Sheriff. If those good Baptist folks could forgive you for spending the last few decades plowing other people’s wives next to a garage full of hot cars, and a parking lot full of lemons, they’ll forgive you for this.”

  “But have you listened to those two, Horker and Shemp?”

  “Harkhuf and Shemetet,” said Kellar. “Personally, I don’t care what you call them, but they’re a little touchy about their names and complete shits when it comes to the queen and master stuff.”

  “He’s right,” said Minerva. “If you want a head to put your Stetson on, you better wise up and get on board. These two are the future. When they take over, we’re going to be right there with them. They’re going to need loyal humans like us to control their armies of thralls.”

  “What’s a thrall?” said the Sheriff. “It sounds like something on your pecker you have to get shots for to make sure it doesn’t come back.”

  “A thrall is a slave,” said Kellar.

  “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t even know why we’re talking to you.”

  “You want to rumble, butterball?” said the Sheriff. He held up a fist. “I’ve got a frying pan ready for a pile of fatback like you.”

  Kellar flexed his bruised knuckles. Minerva got between them.

  “Now, boys, play nice. We don’t want to make a bad impression on our new master and queen.”

  “And what’s with the master and queen bullshit?” said the Sheriff. “I won’t have it. Not on my own land.”

  Kellar laughed. “Go out and tell them, then. Go outside and tell the three-thousand-year-old Egyptian warriors and their army of the undead that you’d like them to mosey on down the road a piece so you can get back to whittling up a new butter churn.”

  The Sheriff slowly shook his head. “I don’t like the way you said it, but I take your point. It would be a little awkward telling Ma and Pa Kettle that them and the kids have to sleep in the barn and not the big house.”

  “Let them nap wherever they want. And when this is over, the three of us will be sitting pretty and you can leave this car game behind.”

  “I wouldn’t mind that, I’ll tell you. Especially after Donna ran off with what was going to be our nest egg.”

  “Then it’s settled,” said Minerva. “You give our queen and master a place to lie low for a while and we three are going to be set up for life.”

  “Plus, I’m getting a talk show,” said Kellar. “And maybe meet Oprah.”

  “Is that right? It’s the end of the world and you want to be Jay Leno?”

  “God no.” He shuddered. “But, yes, something like that.”

  “And how about you, starlet? What’s your over-the-rainbow?”

  “Right now I just want to get through the next few days until Harkhuf and Shemetet get enough firepower to take over this burg. Then I’m going to put Jack Nicholson on a leash and ride him like a bucking bronco.”

  “Yee-haw,” said the Sheriff. “Okay. Let’s go out and make a deal.” He put on his Stetson and checked himself in the mirror.

  “Now, remember. Master and queen,” said Kellar. “Trust me, you can’t say it enough for these two.” He shook his head, muttering, “You’d think taking over the world would fix your self-esteem issues.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Sonny Jim. I’ve sold mobile homes to people with no jobs, and Jaguars to old ladies with cataracts the size of an extra-large with pepperoni. I think I can handle Mr. and Mrs. Skeletor.”

  “Let’s go out and lay out the welcome mat,” said Minerva. She put an arm out for the Sheriff and one out for Kellar.

  When they got outside, a T. rex was methodically ripping the roofs off of the hot pickup trucks Lee had just dropped off. Across the lot, zombie buffalo were stampeding back and forth over a flattened row of what used to be . . . ?

  Audis? Avantis? Porsches? Good thing these bony cocksuckers are taking over. There are so many hot cars on this lot I can’t even firebomb the place for the insurance.

  He doffed his hat to the T. rex as they walked by.

  There’s fucked, there’s buffalo-fucked, and there’s dinosaur-fucked. And I’m all three.

  The Sheriff turned on his biggest salesman smile for Shemetet and Harkhuf.

  I don’t know what’s going to be stranger, working for dead folks or working for foreigners.

  Coop didn’t want to take Giselle and Morty with him. They weren’t even part of his original plan. But Morty wouldn’t get Coop the zero-G device if he couldn’t come and Giselle promised to have the locks changed if she couldn’t.

  And as much as he hated putting them in danger—again—he couldn’t help feeling a bit relieved that they were by his side.

  They drove north out of L.A. in the borrowed DOPS truck and turned onto a feeder road. The rest of this part of the plan was pretty easy.

  “Want to see how the zero-G thing works?” said Morty.

  “Yeah. I need to practice so I’ll get it right later.”

  “I don’t know why you won’t let me run it for you.”

  “For the same reason I didn’t want you and Giselle here in the first place. If this doesn’t work out, jail will be the least of my worries.”

  “This is the screwiest thing you’ve come up with,” said Giselle.

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  Coop took the zero-G device and started playing with it.

  “It’s going to
be fine,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  “On the count of three, don’t think of a purple bat. One—”

  “I already lost. How about you?”

  “Nope. I’m fine.”

  “Liar.”

  “Prove it.”

  Coop pulled off the freeway and called Mr. Woolrich.

  “Cooper. Do you know what time it is?”

  “Mr. Woolrich, I’m going to confess something.”

  “Please tell me you’re defecting. I don’t care who to. Just go.”

  “First off. I’m alone. That’s important.”

  “By your saying you’re alone, I know for a fact that you aren’t. You haven’t involved your friends in something nefarious, have you? You’re the only one with wiggle room in your behavior clause.”

  “That’s why I’m officially telling you that I’m alone.”

  “Fine. You’re alone. Where are you alone?”

  “I’m at Sheriff Wayne Jr.’s car lot off the Hollywood Freeway.”

  “If you’re looking for someone to cosign a loan, I don’t think so.”

  “I’m about to start a war. If you want to get in on it, you might want to send some of those crack DOPS troops up here. And tell them to get some radios at Walmart. Theirs don’t work.”

  “What kind of war? What’s going on?”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mr. Woolrich, it’s that I trust me more.”

  “What does that mean, Cooper?”

  “It means that if you want Harkhuf and Shemetet, you better get here. Maybe send some regular cops, too. There are some other jerks who need to get arrested.”

  “Cooper don’t you do anything—”

  “Sorry, Mr. Woolrich. My battery is running out. You’re breaking up. Remember, Sheriff Wayne Jr.’s.”

  He hung up.

  “While you’re making prank calls, why don’t you call the president. There’s another important person you can antagonize tonight,” said Morty.

  “Woolrich is fine,” said Coop. “He loves my high jinks. He told me so.”

  “High jinks. He used the word ‘high jinks’?” said Giselle.

  “Yep. He can’t get enough of them.”

  “Whatever high jinks you’ve got planned, now that you’ve called him, we should probably get them going?”

  “We’ve all agreed to our jobs, right?” said Coop. “All you two are going to do is lower the rear so the elephant can get out.”

  Giselle and Morty said yes.

  “After that, I want you both to disappear. Now, I know you’re not going to do that, but I’m saying it because I want a clear conscience if Woolrich arrests us all.”

  “Are you done?” said Giselle.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re so cute when you’re brave and terrified at the same time.”

  Coop drove the truck to the foot of the Sheriff’s car lot. The bar was across the driveway again, but when Giselle and Morty lowered the rear of the truck, it fit right over the barricade.

  Coop jumped down from the truck cab and ran to the rear. Morty and Giselle were already leading the elephant out. When it was on the ground, Coop patted its leg. It draped its trunk across his shoulder.

  “Seriously now, go away,” said Coop. “Hide in the truck. Go down the street. Just don’t be near the lot for a while.”

  Giselle and Morty got into the rear of the truck and pulled the ramp up with them.

  “Good luck, stupid. If you die, I’ll plant daisies on your grave and tell everybody you were a florist,” said Giselle.

  “Good luck, pal. Don’t be afraid to run away. It’s a strategy that’s always worked for me,” said Morty.

  Coop led the elephant up the driveway.

  “What the hell is happening out there?” said Kellar.

  “What do you mean?” said the Sheriff. He went to the window.

  “Is that Coop?” said Minerva.

  “And an elephant?” said Kellar.

  “He’s brought that goddamn elephant back?” said the Sheriff. “That’s all I fucking need. I’ve got Lucifer’s own circus around back and this dipshit thinks my car lot is mammoth day care. Where’s my gun?”

  Halfway up the driveway, Coop and the elephant stopped.

  “Hey, Harkhuf,” he yelled. “It’s me, Coop. I thought I was your prom date, but you dumped me for someone else. Sure, she’s got a nice figure, but does she have her own elephant? Come on out and see it.”

  Minerva and the Sheriff ran around the back of the car lot.

  “Don’t worry, you two. I’ve got this covered,” said the Sheriff, strapping on his gun belt.

  “We’ll deal with him, my queen and my master,” said Minerva.

  Harkhuf pushed past them. “No. I shall deal with the fool.” He turned to Shemetet. “Stay here where it is safe, beloved, and watch your army make its first conquest.”

  Harkhuf went around the side of the garage, followed by a legion of dead horrors ready to do battle.

  Coop waved to Harkhuf. “I’m down here, ugly. Have you met Horton? Go say hi, Horton. Harkhuf looks like he needs a hug.”

  Coop pushed the elephant forward. It walked slowly toward the skeleton army and stopped. In the distance, a woolly-mammoth skeleton trumpeted.

  The elephant moved restlessly and returned the trumpet.

  “What the hell is going on?” said Giselle, coming up beside him.

  “I wanted you to wait in the truck,” said Coop.

  “And I wanted you to bring home Thai, but here I am with a magic elephant and the cast of Evil Dead.”

  “I think it’s a territorial dispute,” said Morty. “The elephants. Not you two.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” said Giselle.

  The mammoth trumpeted again and so did the elephant. With one more burst of outrage, they ran at each other through the lot.

  “I can’t look,” said Giselle. She put her hands up, but peeked through her fingers.

  Back at the garage, Kellar said, “Oh, good. It’s summer camp and we’re playing mine is bigger than yours.”

  Standing at the front with Harkhuf, Sheriff Wayne Jr. said, “Let me handle this.” He pulled his gun and got off a couple of shots at Coop before Harkhuf slapped his arm away.

  “Stay your hand,” said Harkhuf. Shemetet came to stand beside him. He raised his arms and shouted a war cry that hadn’t been heard on earth in three thousand years. And his army ran forward to meet the elephant.

  Are those shots? thought Coop as bullets whizzed by his head. Giselle and Morty dove for cover.

  “Do something!” yelled Giselle.

  Morty said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re about to lose.”

  “Just a little more . . .” Coop said, flipping on the zero-G device.

  Just as the elephant and the mammoth were about to collide, Coop pushed the power up to full and the elephant sailed over the heads of the skeleton army. They came shuddering to a halt and watched the floating pachyderm climb higher into the air.

  Back by the garage, Kellar and Minerva were also watching.

  “What are you doing, Coop?” said Minerva.

  The elephant flew higher.

  “Coop, you are really pissing me off. Do whatever you’re going to do,” said Giselle.

  “Think that’s high enough?” he said.

  “For what?” said Morty.

  “For this.”

  Coop hit a switch on the Tweak box and the elephant disappeared in mist. A moment later, a green light flashed . . .

  Sheriff Wayne Jr. pulled his other gun and took aim . . .

  . . . just as the Fitzgeralds’ library came crashing down on him, Harkhuf, and his entire army.

  The crash felt like an earthquake. A hundred alarms on a hundred cars went off.

  Minerva and Kellar stood by the garage, just staring.

  “Minerva?” said Kellar.

  “Yes?”

  “Did I just lose my talk show?”

&
nbsp; “At the very least. Come on. Let’s disappear. Where’s the grimoire?”

  “Oh, fuck,” said Kellar. “Shemetet had it.”

  Police cars and blacked-out DOPS vans pulled up around the Sheriff’s car lot. Tactical officers fanned out around the library.

  “Freeze!” someone shouted, and a dozen lights hit Minerva and Kellar.

  The two froze. For a moment, no one moved, but then Kellar shouted, “It was all her idea. I just wanted to go to Red Lobster!”

  Coop and the others missed all that. They were already on the freeway, speeding to the DOPS to return the equipment. They hoped that if they cleaned out the elephant shit from the truck, Woolrich would forgive them.

  41

  Nelson met the Auditors outside of the ECIU.

  “I see you got my note,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Night.

  “Yes,” said Knight. “Now that we are here . . .”

  “. . . please tell us what incriminating information . . .”

  “. . . you have on Mr. Cooper. We would . . .”

  “. . . like to see him . . .”

  “. . . again . . .”

  “. . . very soon.”

  “It’s not exactly information,” said Nelson. “It’s evidence. And it’s just inside the ECIU. Really. Just a couple of feet inside.”

  “You are a . . .” said Night.

  “. . . mook?” said Knight.

  “Yes. So, I can’t go inside and get it, but I know it’s in there. It’s a book. I saw it. If you bring it out, Coop is screwed.”

  “And why should we believe this?”

  “A corpse’s story? Your type . . .”

  “. . . is so . . .”

  “. . . unstable.”

  “Instead of debating my mental health, why don’t you go and get the book? Then you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

  “Very . . .” said Night.

  “. . . well,” said Knight. “Your name is . . .”

  “. . . Mr. Nelson?”

  “Yes. I’m head of the mail room. It’s a privilege and a sacred duty.”