And the next installment of my villain-with-amnesia story is here! 😀
*dramatic announcer voice*
So when we saw our
hero villain last, he was running away from his own approaching gang with a polite young man named Dallas and a hit man named Bad News.
Don’t think things can get wackier?
We’ll see about that…
First, a couple of things.
One, links to the last episodes:
And, I made a story collage the other day, so here’s that. ❤
I like this too much.
Anyway, on to the story!
Hope you enjoy!
I didn’t realize until I’d already pulled out of the driveway that I had no idea where in the world I was. Yeah, that might hang things up a little.
“Hey, News . . .” I turned to the fedora-d grizzly bear in the passenger seat. He looked up from pawing through the CDs in the glove compartment.
“What’s this place called?” I waved a hand to the city around us in general.
Bad News pulled his sunglasses up and squinted into the sun for a second before dropping them back down and giving his hat a tug. “Utah.”
Oh gee, thanks. Specifics. “Whereabouts? Like do I turn left or right?”
“Well, to go towards our hideout . . .” Bad News picked up a particularly colorful CD with a cartoon drawing on the front and set it on the dashboard. “ . . . you’d just keep going straight out of town, then head North at Salt Lake City.” He shoved his chosen CD in the player and leaned back in his seat, “I’m assuming that’s where you’re driving to?”
Well, that would probably involve running into the gang. My gang. That would probably kill my backseat passenger. And avoiding that was sort of the reason I was driving away in the first place.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, pulled off the road and got myself turned around. Bad News gave me a bit of a weird look, but shrugged it off.
I heard Dallas shift forward in his seat, “You’ll be in Nevada in a few minutes. I think this is Wendover.”
I nodded, “Okay, thanks.”
Music came on over the speakers, sounding like an old kids’ show and saying something about the number zero. News bopped along in his seat.
I wasn’t about to criticize his music choices, but I was curious what was so wonderful about math songs. “Hey, what’s this called?” I carefully kept all scorn out of my voice.
“Oh.” News didn’t strike me as a “schoolhouse” sort of guy. I kept my eyes on the dry mountains on the horizon.
Turned out Dallas was right. By the time we were on to the song talking about multiplying by two, a sign welcoming us to Nevada had come up on the right.
I looked up in the rearview mirror so I could see Dallas. More color was in his face than before. The wind ruffled his hair off his forehead as he looked out the window. Still no smile, though.
He looked up to meet my eyes in the mirror.
“How’re you doin’?”
Dallas blinked and glanced to the side, “Fine . . . thank you.” He said it like I’d asked him a trick question.
I waited for a second, then nodded, “Good.” I swallowed and shifted my gaze back down to the road.
It felt kind of weird running away from my own gang. I couldn’t help wondering what they were like. Was it like a scary, goth sort of group where everyone just sat around and scowled at each other? Were they just a bunch more big guys like News? I’d have my own a range of mountains, in that case. Maybe it was more a rag-tag band sort of thing. Irredeemable wretches like myself in any case, probably.
It was hard to think such serious thoughts while a cheery voice counted by fours out of my music speaker.
“So, at the next town . . .” I looked over at News and dropped my voice low, “I’m thinking we drop Dallas off at the police station or something so he can get to some medical attention and head back to wherever he came from.”
“Police station?” Even through the sunglasses, I could tell Bad News really thought I’d gone insane. “Man, we’d be in a cell sooner than you put the parking brake on.”
A jolt of cold went through me at that statement. I shivered a little. “Okay . . .” I licked my lips, “Well, what can we do with him?”
News looked out the window. “There’s a nice empty stretch of road out there. Give him some trail mix and he can hitchhike his way to town.”
I looked back at Dallas, who was attempting to wrap his lopsided, bloody ace bandage tighter around his middle and wincing.
I looked outside at the landscape. Dry, rocky and empty. A dead body would be an unsurprising addition to the landscape.
Drop him by the side of the road? In the shape he was in? It would be kinder to shoot him now.
“Dude, he’d die.” I shook my head and kept my eyes on the road.
“And you’d mind that?” News sounded honestly confused with me. Like I dropped people off to die without minding every week.
I swallowed and dropped my gaze to my hands on the steering wheel. They were shaking and I could see the white bone in my knuckles. The little plunger-whisk robot on my keychain jangled against the key fob and there was a click.
“Exterminate!” said a tiny, metallic voice.
I don’t take advice from keychain robots.
“Hey, Dallas?” I looked at him in the rearview mirror. He raised his head. “So, are you good sticking with us for a bit? Or . . . just, what are you thinking?” I cleared my throat and straightened myself up a bit in my seat.
Dallas held my gaze for a long time, his green eyes seeming to search mine deeply. I hoped News was watching the road while I had my soul searched.
He was, apparently.
“Hey, look! It’s the gang.”
Dallas’s look tightened, but he kept my gaze for a few more seconds, mouthing something very clearly.
I trust you.
I clenched my teeth and gave him a firm nod. My eyes went back to the road for approximately five seconds before I looked back over at Bad News. I’m a horribly attentive driver. “Introduce me to the gang.” I adjusted the mirror so it focused on the car behind us.
News took a quick look over his shoulder. “Roy’s the kid driving with the toothpick in his teeth. Liza’s the one with the turquoise hair. Chris has the cowboy hat and red scarf, and Cardboard is the little girl with the orange shirt.”
I had a little girl named Cardboard in my gang. And I didn’t think anything could top a giant named Bad News.
I craned my neck so the mirror centered on the little dark-skinned girl in orange. “Is there a reason she’s named Cardboard?”
“Roy found her in a dumpster marked ‘Cardboard Only’. She still likes hanging out in it.”
“Ah.” I scanned over the group of faces one more time, repeating the names in my head. Roy. Liz. Chris. Cardboard
Roy pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead and waved, pointing to the side of the road.
I started to slow down. “Okay. Dallas, News . . . game plan time.” I looked behind again and the car was closing in behind us fast.
I came to a stop and ran my shaking hand through my hair. “You two” I pointed meaningfully to both of them, “are going to be the only ones who know I’ve lost my memory.”
Tune in next time to see how this crazy plan works out… 😉
What do you think of the story so far?
I’ve already got Wolfgang, Bad News and Cardboard… Any more wacky names I should use?