Un2Dead (Book One of the Un2Series)
Chapter Fifteen

The never-ending rotation of who rode shotgun was currently in Joey mode. Gary had asked Wit to pull over so that he could relieve himself and Joey took the opportunity to steal his seat. Gary sat pouting, slumped among the baggage in the bed of the truck. Joey reached to change the radio station only to have Wit slap his hand away.

“Driver picks the station and I am always the driver.”

Joey mimed the exact phrase as Wit spoke, contorting his features and mirroring Wit’s gestures.

“Just how old are you? Why don’t you do something constructive and help me figure out how we’re going to get DeLeon to talk to us?” Wit fine-tuned the radio station and adjusted the volume.

Joey pulled out his phone and flipped it sideways. His thumbs danced across the screen. He hesitated for a moment, nodded his head and did another little dance with his thumbs. He buffed the phone on his shirt sleeve and returned it to his pocket.

“He is expecting us tomorrow night at nine.” Joey said as he wiped his hands across one another, signaling a done deal.

“How in the hell did you manage that?

“A combination of four hundred year old brains and sixteen year old thumbs.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I messaged him. I told him we were the guys from the pet shop twenty-five years ago. There was new information on the turquin viper story that he should know.”

“But we don’t have new information.”

“We didn’t exactly tell him the truth in the first place. He thinks the store was burglarized and his snake was stolen. No one knows about the Ouroboros ritual but us. We can tell him about that and about you being beat up by a girl wearing an Ouroboros bracelet. He might know something.”

“I was not beat up by a girl!” Wit insisted.

“Call it what you want, but your unconscious, cheese-covered ass ended up in a dumpster.” Joey smirked.

“I stuck my hand into cheese while I was climbing out of the dumpster. I was not cheese-covered!” Wit paused.”And I can see where that is only marginally better.”

The El Camino continued eastward. Joey settled into playing games on his phone while Gary watched him through the window. Wit rehearsed his conversation with DeLeon repeatedly in his head. He decided that it would be okay to change the woman wearing a bracelet in his story to a thug with a tattoo in order to save a little face. The nature of the confrontation would have to be altered as well. The new premise would be that the thug was looking to obtain one of the rare vipers and had heard that Wit had access to one. When Wit couldn’t produce the reptile the thug threatened him and his family. Not wanting to involve the police in his less than legal activities he chose to try and sort it out on his own. Wit ran the story past Joey and Gary.

“Whattaya think?” Wit looked back and forth between the two.

“I think he’ll buy it,” Joey nodded. “There’s enough danger to merit us traveling to see him and the viper tie-in works.”

“I prefer the real version, getting your ass whooped by a girl, but I guess this one works.” Gary shrugged.

“Okay then. If we are going to make the compound by evening I’m going to have to do some daytime driving. We will have to replace a place where we can stop and get Joey into his sun shroud and put a blanket over the seat for Gary.”

“Why put a blanket on the seat for me?” Gary asked sounding slightly perturbed.

“Gary, you’re a real clean guy but when you’re a dog you shed like nobody’s business. Plus you need your nails trimmed and I don’t want you ruining the upholstery.”

“I can accept that,” Gary agreed. “I’ll make an appointment with the groomer as soon as we get home.”

“Danny, I’ve been running on these plasma pouches for the past couple of days. I’d really like to feed on something of substance, if you get my drift,” Joey urged.

“I could kinda go for a little somethin’ myself. I’ll pull off at the next exit and we’ll replace someplace to stop.”

The next off-ramp appeared about five miles later. The ramp forked to the right then ran parallel to the highway dropping down toward an intersection and underpass. The El Camino slowly rolled to a stop. The crossroads offered three options. To the right there was a collage of glowing fast food signs off in the distance. A large orange diamond-shaped sign adjacent to the stop sign cautioned of fresh oil and rough surfaces made possible by a recent government grant. Straight ahead the ramp rose up and veered back to rejoin the highway. The road to the left narrowed and twisted into the wooded landscape disappearing into the darkness. Wit spun the steering wheel to the left and accelerated through the intersection.

“Where in the hell are you going? The food’s that way!” Joey whined pointing back over his shoulder.

“Do you think I would seriously consider driving my baby through that oil-soaked minefield?” Wit responded with utter disbelief.

Joey turned to Gary. Gary rolled his eyes. Wit sensed their displeasure.

“I’m sure there has got to be something just up ahead. First place we see I’ll stop.”

Wit continued driving deeper into the woods. The canopy created by the trees all but blocked the moonlight from reaching the forest floor. Ten minutes into the side trip and no restaurants had been seen.

“C’mon, Wit! I’m starving. Just turn the truck around and head back toward that town.” Joey justifiably whined.

“I’m not going to mess up this car to satisfy your hunger. Besides, there’s something right there.”

Wit pointed through the passenger side window holding his arm just beneath Joey’s nose. Fragments of a dimly lit parking lot could be seen through the army of tree trunks that surrounded them. Wit pulled into the lot and stopped to survey the restaurant before he selected a parking space, scanning the eatery’s façade. Large field stones, probably found locally, formed the foundation and a good portion of the chimney. Hand-hewn tree trunks interlocked to form the remainder of the exterior walls. The windows were of all shapes and sizes and appeared to have belonged to other buildings before making this their final resting place. The most notable of these was a large arch-topped stained glass piece that depicted a shepherd standing triumphantly over a slain wolf surrounded by his flock. It quite possibly had served as a backdrop to many a Sunday sermon. Ivy climbed the sides of the building and laced itself through weather-worn fissures in the logs and stones. The restaurant looked as if it had stumbled into a leafy net and had become trapped. A thatched roof cascaded across the roofline as it undulated over a series of dormers. Above the entry door a trio of flood lights was focused on a large elaborately carved sign announcing to passers-by that they had arrived at “Grandma’s House.”

“Sweet, sweet destiny.” Wit elbowed Joey in his ribs. “It’s as if they knew you were coming, Gary.”

“Yeah, real funny guys. Let’s just eat and skip the hilarious commentary,” Gary said as he vaulted over the side of the truck.

“No need to get huffy or puffy or blow-the -house-downy for that matter,” Joey laughed.

“That’s not even the right story, jerk. That’s the ‘Three Little Pigs.’ Can we eat now?”

“Mmmm. Pork. Maybe Grandma can rustle me up some ribs.” Wit licked his lips.

“After last night’s debacle you may want to slow down a bit,” Joey cautioned.

“Okay, Dad,” Wit replied.

The interior of the eatery continued the whimsical theme suggested by the building’s exterior. The booths were all fashioned from repurposed antique beds. The headboards, now with upholstered cushions, served as back rests while the footboards supported suspended table tops. Night stands flanked either side of the booth and held the menus and condiments. Area rugs were positioned beneath each booth. The overall effect was one of eating in bed. The threesome was abruptly stopped by a diminutive white-haired bouncer as they passed through the door. Giant Mr. Magoo-like glasses magnified her sparkling blue eyes to the size of saucers. She raised her hand and wagged a pointed finger at them as she spoke.

“You boys stop right there and remove those filthy shoes! You don’t want to be tracking dirt into Granny’s house, do you? You put them right there on the mat next to the door.”

The boys stood motionless, a bit dumbfounded.

“C’mon, shoes. Get those shoes off and take a seat. Can’t eat until you take a seat!”

The three hurriedly removed their footwear, leaning against one another in an attempt to keep from falling. Granny ushered them to an oversized queen booth, smoothing the doily on the tabletop as they took their seats.

“Welcome to my home, “she started. ”There’s plenty to eat and I’d be happy to whip up a little something for such handsome young men.”

“What great big blue eyes you have,” Joey commented as if he were the first to ever suggest such a thing to Granny.

“The better to see you with, my dear.” Granny played along and pinched Joey’s cheek.

“Any specialties of the house?” Gary asked.

“Today’s special is called the ‘Goldilocks Trio.’ A cup of too hot five-alarm firehouse chili and a cup of too cold vichyssoise paired with any deli sandwich made just right.”

Gary groaned.

“If that isn’t to your liking I could always cook something for you on the Hansel and Griddle.”

Everybody groaned, including Granny.

“I know. Pretty corny, huh?” Granny shook her head. ”Tell you what. I like you boys. Granny knows what growing boys need. Let me fix you what I think you would like. If I’m wrong the food is on me.”

“I’m game if you guys are. ”Joey winked knowing that what he wanted would not be on Granny’s menu.

“Okay then. Give Granny a few minutes and I’ll be back with exactly what you need. You’ll see.”

Granny reached forward and patted Gary on the head. “Such a good boy.” She turned and headed off toward the kitchen, her slippers slapping against the floor as she shuffled.

“What did she mean by that?” Gary asked.

“Nothing, Gary. To little old ladies we’re all good boys.” Wit dismissed the question.

The three surveyed their surrounds as they waited for their surprise entrees. The perimeter walls pretty much mimicked the appearance of their exterior. The ivy that covered the outside of the building was replaced by a mingling of needlepoint and old photos on the inside. Barely a square inch of timber was left exposed. Gary glanced from photo to photo. Most of them included Granny or at least a woman that appeared to be Granny at different points in her life. In one photo she stood centered behind a row of seven men wearing mining helmets, all of them even shorter than she was. Another picture portrayed her as a bricklayer being assisted by what appeared to be a very diligent hog. Other hogs lounged behind them amidst piles of sticks and hay. Gary found the images somewhat familiar but couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

“Those were taken in the old neighborhood.” A voice emanated about chest-high, startling Gary. “A great place except for a slight wolf problem.”

Granny removed a frame from the wall and handed it to Gary. It was a photo of her in days past dressed similar to Elmer Fudd, a rifle under one arm and her foot atop the fresh carcass of a huge wolf.

“That’s him over there.”

Granny pointed across the room toward the fireplace. The area rug that was once the fur coat of the beast lay splayed across the floor in front of the hearth.

“That was a pesky little rascal. It was causing my grand-daughter some difficulties so I had to put it down.”

Gary gulped loudly as he handed the photo back to Granny. Her resemblance to the shepherd in the stained glass window was no longer lost on him.

“Yep, I gained quite the reputation after that day. I dispatched a few more of them but they were all bad dogs. I’d never harm a good dog. Especially one who is so loyal to his friends.” Granny winked and rubbed Gary’s head. “Look. It’s dinner time."

A waitress carrying a large round tray backed through the set of café doors that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Her pink polyester uniform stopped a half inch shy of being inappropriate. Well defined calves pointed to white patent leather pumps. A loose knot of auburn hair sat the same distance above her waist as her hemline hung below it. Her skin leaned toward alabaster but still managed to carry a healthy glow. She didn’t wear any make up. She didn’t need to. She possessed the kind of beauty you would replace on a classic pin-up calendar or the side of a B-52 bomber. She placed the tray on a neighboring table and offered a description as she served each dish. Gary straightened his posture as she approached him.

“For you we have our finest porterhouse with a side of garlic mashed potatoes, served with garden salad tossed in balsamic vinaigrette. The brown paper bag contains a little treat for later.”

Gary hurriedly opened the bag and stared slack-jawed at its contents as Wit received his meal.

“For you we have a nice bowl of oatmeal topped with brown sugar, raisins and walnuts. A dollop of cinnamon infused butter may be used as a topping or may be spread on your side order of toast.”

Wit grimaced at his meal.

“Oatmeal! How come he gets a steak and I get a bowl of mush?” Wit crossed his arms as if he were four years old.

The waitress leaned forward and quietly explained, “He gets a steak because he didn’t do a number on his digestive tract last night like someone else we know.” She stood upright and took hold of the now empty tray. She stepped away from the table and took her place alongside Granny.

“How would you know about that?” Wit asked.

“How would she know about this?” Gary said as he tipped the open bag toward Wit.

Nestled at the bottom of the bag were a couple of soup bones and a rawhide dog chew.

“Like I said earlier, ’All the better to see you with,’ “Granny giggled. “Now let’s not forget about Joey. Bon appetit!”

Granny nudged the waitress forward. Joey looked at her in disbelief.

“Don’t you like your dinner?” Granny asked.” I have a Chinese one in the kitchen but you would be looking for more in a half an hour.”

“No. This, I mean she will be more than fine.”

The waitress took Joey by the hand. “Let’s get a corner booth. They are much more private.”

Joey followed his dinner to a darkened corner near the fireplace.

“Leave a generous tip!” Joey called back over his shoulder.