The Adventures of Norman Oklahoma Volume One Page 4

  He approached the bar and offered his hand. Lemonzeo took it.

  “I am Alexander,” the man said. “And you are Lemonzeo?”

  “I am,” Lemonzeo said. A chill had settled into his hand and crept up his arm. He let go of Alexander’s hand and the cold fled. Lemonzeo shivered. He’d never shaken the hand of a vampire before.

  “My brother,” Alexander said, gesturing to the other man who had remained by the door, “is Thomas.”

  Thomas’ hair was blond, nearly brighter than the sun. He wore it in direct contrast to his brother, spiked like that of an old punk rocker.

  “Would either of you like a drink?” Lemonzeo said, not sure what vampires drank, and shivered once again at the thought of it.

  “No, thank you,” Alexander said. “My brother and I are fine. Shall we get down to business?”

  “Good idea,” Lemonzeo said. “We can sit over here.”

  He gestured to a booth near the bar and the two sat. Thomas remained by the door, looking out onto the sidewalk.

  “Would your brother like to join us?” Lemonzeo said.

  “No, he would not. He will ensure we are not interrupted.”

  “That shouldn’t be an issue; we don’t open for another six hours.”

  “Regardless,” Alexander said and spread his hands out as if to say that’s how it was.

  “Whatever floats your boat,” Lemonzeo said, leaning back in his seat. “Now, you called this meeting, why don’t you tell me what it is you need from me.”

  “It is not what we need from you, Mr. Lemonzeo; it is what we need from each other.”

  “Oh yeah? And what do I need from you?” He knew full well what he needed from the two brothers. Money.

  “Come now, Mr. Lemonzeo. Let us not play these little games with each other. You have spent the last five years in prison and have returned at last to find your little empire crumbled. Klein and his dogs have taken most of what you once owned.” He looked around the bar in disgust. “And what little you have left is withering on the vine.”

  “And you’re going to just fix all this for me? Just like that?” Lemonzeo said snapping his fingers with the word ‘that’.

  “Not us, Mr. Lemonzeo. Our employer.”

  “Your employer. The mysterious Mr. Brone. Why does he want to help me?”

  “Simple, Mr. Lemonzeo. Mr. Brone does not like the idea of Klein and his dogs gaining too much power, and while he cannot go up against Klein directly, he would like to see the dog knocked down a peg or two.”

  “So you want me to take on Klein?” Lemonzeo said. “Start a war?”

  “Yes, and we will fund it.” Alexander smiled, though his eyes showed none of it. They reminded Lemonzeo of shark’s eyes: cold, calculating, unsympathetic. The eyes of a machine.

  “Why me? I’m lead to understand that your boss holds quite a bit of power himself?”

  “There are rules, Mr. Lemonzeo. One must follow the rules if we wish to remain civilized.”

  “Well, I’m not opposed to taking back what’s mine from Klein, I have nothing to lose. But what do you gain? What’s in it for Brone?”

  “It is just as I said. Mr. Brone does not like Klein. He is uncomfortable allowing the dog to possess such power in the area. You used to run things; he would like to see you return.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Actually, no,” Alexander said, leaning forward. “Mr. Brone has certain interests in this area.”

  “You mean whatever it is he’s doing up there in my old nightclub,” Lemonzeo said. “I’m not stupid; I know there’s more than dancing going on out there.”

  “The Vampire’s Nest was purchased from you legally, Mr. Lemonzeo. What Brone does with his property is his business, not yours. Just as our plans are our plans. However, we also do not want to attract the attention of a certain individual in town.”

  “Yeah, vampires tend to pique his interest.” Lemonzeo knew the individual in question. In fact, he was having him killed this morning. “I’m actually quite surprised he hasn’t come after you by now.”

  “So far we have managed to stay off of his radar, but it has been proving difficult. It is only a matter of time before his eyes turn our way. That is where you come in.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We want you to kill him.”

  “Just like that, huh?”

  “Just like that.”

  “Well,” Lemonzeo leaned forward. “It won’t be easy. Or cheap.”

  “We never assumed it would be.”

  Alexander reached into his suit jacket and produced an envelope, thick and near to bursting. He tossed it onto the table where it landed with a heavy thud.

  Lemonzeo picked it up and looked inside at the hundred dollar bills that strained against the envelope’s seams. He ran a thumb along the bills. He could do a lot with the money. It was certainly a nice big step toward getting his empire back.

  “Consider that an advance,” Alexander said. “There is plenty more. Once the job is done—once the man is dead—you can practically write your own check, Mr. Lemonzeo. Do we have a deal?”

  Lemonzeo wanted to shout out that yes, hell yes they had a deal. Money, after all, can carry a conversation like nobody’s business. Yet, vampires... It’s not like he’d never had dealings with them before, but he was reluctant to put his future into the hands of someone who was not human.

  He ran a thumb along the bills once again, flipping through them, seeing the number 100 as it ran along the corner of the bills like an old motion picture show. He sighed and reached out a hand, offering it to Alexander.

  “We have a deal,” Lemonzeo said.

  Alexander took his hand and smiled, his shark eyes looking through him.

  “Good,” Alexander said. “You will soon be back to your former glory, Mr. Lemonzeo. My brother and I will return tomorrow with your first payment so that you can begin your operation against Klein.”

  “I look forward to it,” Lemonzeo said.

  “And the man we spoke of? He will be dead before we speak again, yes?”

  “Most assuredly,” Lemonzeo said.

  “Good, then let us talk of your next step. If you are to wage war with Klein, we have certain targets in mind.”

  The other vampire, Thomas, joined them at the booth. He let them talk, though he wasn’t listening. He was already spending the money in his head.

  He’d definitely have to get those windows replaced. Then he’d have to hire some muscle and acquire weapons. That shouldn’t be too hard providing all his old contacts were still in business. After all, no one ran product through this one horse town like Abner Lemonzeo.

  And all he had to do was kill Norman Oklahoma.

  He tried not to laugh. If all was going according to plan, Oklahoma should already be dead.

  7

  THE VAMPIRE MEET AND GREET

  EVENTUALLY PAT’S PEOPLE SHOWED, loaded the Walrus into an armored paddy wagon, and hauled the big fella away. The Walrus had stayed down the entire time. Pat really nailed him a good one. She always did pack a punch.

  I waved to Pat and her officers as they drove away, feeling a real sense of accomplishment for it still being morning. Once the police vehicles disappeared over the hill in the distance, I went back into the house and slid into my trench coat. It was time to pay Abner Lemonzeo a visit. Then coffee, I needed my coffee.

  I grabbed up a set of keys I had hanging on a peg by the door to the garage. The keys went to the rust-colored 1967 Scout parked on the other side of the door. Like me, it was old.

  My place is about five minutes north of Eudora out past the Kansas River. This time of the year the ride from my home to the office is bordered by empty fields ready for winter. When the crops are up, you’d ride with a wall of corn to either side. Now, it’s just dirt all the way to the hills. I’ve long since learned to tune it all out.

  Eudora, as I’ve said, is not what one would call a big town.

  But it ain’t small neith
er.

  I like to think of it as the little town that could.

  Located between Kansas City and Lawrence on Kansas Highway 10, Eudora has always had the potential to be more than it was, and slowly but surely, the town has struggled to crawl its way out of the small town moniker. Eudora continues to grow, despite the bypass that has allowed those driving between Lawrence and Kansas City to do so without coming into town.

  It ain’t nowhere near where I’m sure the city leaders want it to be, but it’s doing just fine in the grand scheme of things.

  Main Street, between 10th and 7th, is Eudora’s downtown business district. Which, to be honest, ain’t much.

  My office is there, of course. Plus we got a bank, a comic book store that used to be a bank, a coffee shop, a hardware store, two eateries—Mexican and Chinese—and then there’s the Pub.

  The Pub is just that. It’s a dirty little hole in the wall located on the west side of the eight hundred block of Main. Right in the middle. And is owned by one Abner Lemonzeo.

  Before I’d had him sent to prison, most of his illegal dealings had been conducted in the dark and smoke-filled confines of the tiny bar. Back then more money had passed through the Pub in a single day than had gone through both of Eudora’s banks in a week. The dank pit was once the cornerstone of all illegal activity in Eastern Kansas and Western Missouri. Big fish from Kansas City spent much of their time sitting in a booth in the back of the Pub—Abner’s booth—conducting business.

  It was there that I expected to find him.

  My office is across the street, and though it’s about three storefronts to the north, I can see the Pub’s front door from the window.

  I parked the Scout there at the curb in front of my office and crossed over to the other side of Main on foot. The traffic was light and so I took my time.

  I found Lemonzeo where I thought I would, in his booth in the back. With him sat two men in suits across the table, their backs to me. Abner hadn’t changed a bit. If anything, he looked harder. Prison will do that to a person, it pounds on you until you break, or you become the hammer.

  He was dressed all in black: Suit jacket, tie, and shirt. I wanted to punch him in his face for that fact alone. But I kept my cool.

  He still shaved his head, and he still sported that greasy little black mustache. I’d often imagine him twisting that mustache as he thought up his evil little schemes—like tying a woman to a set of railroad tracks.

  Lemonzeo looked up as I approached the booth and surprise flashed across his face. It didn’t last long however, he covered himself quick enough. I wouldn’t have even noticed it had I not been looking for it. He smiled as if he’d been expecting me.

  “Norman Oklahoma,” he said. “What brings you into my establishment?”

  “Abner,” I said, giving him a small nod. I turned to the two men sitting across from him. “You’re in my seat.”

  “Excuse me?” the first man said, his face was stone, a blank slate.

  “You heard me, pal. Take a hike.”

  Stone Face looked over to his partner who nodded. The two men were identical but for the hair. Stone Face had yellow hair that jutted up from his head in thick spikes. His partner, or more obviously his brother, had hair that was blacker than the dead of night. He looked more like a politician.

  With permission requested and then granted, Stone Face slid languidly from the booth, stood, and looked down at me.

  The guy was big, easily a full head taller than I was. Guys like him think they can intimidate others into getting their way, and with most people they might succeed.

  I ain’t most people.

  “Breath mint,” I said. “Look into it.”

  The guy didn’t smile, didn’t grimace, didn’t even blink.

  “Vampires, Abner?” I said, my eyes never moving from the fella in front of me. “You ain’t back a full week and you’re already leaping into bed with these monsters?”

  Abner chose not to respond.

  The moment Stone Face had stood I’d known what he was. Vampires have a way of moving that’s unlike us normal folk. It’s subtle, and most people don’t notice it, but it’s obvious to those of us who know what to look for. But it ain’t just the way he moved that clued me in; it was the smell that rolled off of him. The smell of blood. This vampire recently fed. Again, it’s subtle, but unmistakable.

  Almost casually, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Stone Face reached into his jacket. I had a Peacemaker in hand and pointed at his head before he could pull whatever it was he had been going for.

  I thumbed back the hammer.

  “Come now, Norman,” Lemonzeo said. “This isn’t necessary.”

  “I think it is,” I said, and squeezed the trigger.

  The gun crashed and Stone Face flew backwards, landing with a dull thud a few feet away. His body lay there on the floor in an unnatural way. But though he was down, he wasn’t out, despite the point blank .45 caliber slug to the head. He was up in an instant, crouched on all fours and hissing.

  It wasn’t a pleasant sight. Part of his head was gone; in fact it painted most of the back wall and floor. But I could already see that the skull was mending itself, rounding off to cover the hole the bullet had made. The brain matter and other gooey things found inside a vampire’s head were mending as well. Soon he’d be fully healed.

  “Okay, Biter,” I said, pulling the other Peacemaker, “let’s do this.”

  He leaped, and I fired, hammering him back to the ground. I continued to fire, keeping the creature nailed to the floor. I could see his partner moving out of the corner of my eye and without even so much as a look in his direction, my arm slid his way and I shot him down too.

  Contrary to what the movies and books tell us, vampires aren’t affected by sunlight and aren’t all that easy to kill, relatively speaking. A stake to the heart won’t do it. Drive a pointy wooden stick into their chest and the only thing you’re gonna accomplish is to piss the thing off. Hold up a clove of garlic in front of their face and they’ll probably eat it. And a crucifix, yeah... you might as well come at them with one of those orange sections of toy race car track from all the good it will do you.

  The only way to put a biter down for good is to fill it full of silver.

  Being who I am, I have a well-stocked munitions cabinet full of silver bullets. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to bring any with me. This meant I’d have to rely on what I had on hand. Regular bullets would break the skin, make them bleed, and hurt like hell, but in the end I was just buying time.

  “Enough!” Lemonzeo yelled, still seated in the booth.

  The two biters froze. Blood oozed from the various holes I’d put in them, but only for a moment or two before they closed up. Too bad they couldn’t say the same for the holes I’d put in their suits. That thought alone made me smile.

  “I have business to conduct, Norman. Did you want anything in particular or did you just stop by to shoot at my customers?”

  “I had a nice talk with your pet walrus, Abner,” I said, reloading, leaving the spent shells to roll about on the Pub floor. “So I thought I’d just swing by and welcome you back. Shooting up your guest’s expensive suits was just one of those happy accidents you hear about all the time.” I gave the biters a wink.

  “Well, that was neighborly of you, Norman. Tell me, did you leave the Walrus alive?”

  “Oh, he’s alive. He ain’t happy, but he’s breathing.”

  “Are we done here?” Lemonzeo asked.

  I looked from him to the two vampires, they weren’t happy neither. I was just pissing everyone off this morning. I’d pay for it later, but it would be worth it. My only regret was that I hadn’t been packing silver.

  “As long as you’re free and doing business with the likes of these two, we ain’t done, Abner,” I said and turned to leave. But as I reached the door I turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot. Send someone to kill me again; you better hope they do the job right. Otherwise I’m gonna retu
rn the favor, and I don’t miss.”

  With that, I left.

  8

  MY KINGDOM FOR A CUP OF COFFEE

  I CROSSED THE STREET with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. I even whistled. I hadn’t felt this good since, well, since the last time I shot an ornery biter.

  I don’t like vampires.

  Ain’t a one of them has anything inside them but evil intent. They hate the human race, think of us as cattle. So I hate them right on back. There are ways a biter can survive without murdering and feeding off of human beings, but I’ve yet to meet one that’s tried. The world would be better off with each and every one of them in the ground.

  I moved up the half a block to the office, my mind on coffee and bullet-ridden vampires when I turned the corner onto 7th and nearly tripped over a shaggy and unkempt figure sleeping it off on the side walk.

  I stumbled, but didn’t fall. The man on the sidewalk just curled in on himself and continued to snore. Flies buzzed around him, zipping here and there, landing for moments on the undulating form before lighting off once again. There was a stench coming from the huddled mass that was wholly unique to the man. It was like a dead animal that had been soaked in cheap beer, rolled around in a landfill for a few days, and the left out in the sun for a week. That was Hal.

  Normally, when I run across Hal, I leave him be. I couldn’t do that today, not while he was blocking my entry into the building. He’d either have to move, or I’d need to drive across town and buy my coffee at the Kwik Stop.

  “Hal?” I gave him a prod with the toe of my shoe.

  Hal stirred, burped, said something about a penguin, and broke wind. It was almost enough to ruin my good mood.

  “Hal!” I said again, jabbing him with a bit more force.

  Before I could so much as take another breath, I found myself lifted off of my feet and thrown back into the wall of my building. It took a moment before I realized that it was Hal that had done it. And he held me fast, too.

  He didn’t say anything, just stared at me wild-eyed as he held me by the front of my coat, pressing me into the wall. He towered over me and I felt like a rag doll in his hands. His breath bore into me like a urinal in a restroom at a Royals game by the seventh inning stretch.