Read Music City Macabre: The Low Lying Lands Saga: Vol. 1 Online
Authors: Bob Williams
Music City Macabre: The Low Lying Lands Saga: Vol. 1 (24 page)
Shields and I helped Cole up and each of us took an arm over a shoulder. As we all were walking out of
The Stage
, Cole mumbled something barely audible.
“What?”
“We all made it?”
“Yes, Michael,” said Shields.
“Damn,” he said.
“What? You’re right. We all made it.”
“They’ll never make a movie, now.”
I shook my head and allowed myself one more of those little smiles.
THE NEW PROTECTORATE
When we emerged from
The Stage
, we saw Jay and his crew standing beside the helicopter. Cole took the opportunity to sit it the open doorway and take a rest. Jay reached inside, past Cole, produced a bottle of water, and handed it to him.
I extended my hand to my friend. He shook it. “Thank you, Jay.”
“You’re welcome. I’m not gonna lie. I didn’t put the CB in there for shits and giggles. I knew what you were coming here to do. I counted on your realizing that you couldn’t do it alone. I see you found some friends. You guys know he’s crazy, right?”
“Yes!” Cole said. “But I guess, in the end, that’s why you suit up with him. Sometimes crazy’s what you need.”
“Why, Michael Cole,” I put my hand to my chest. “I do declare! You have touched my heart,” I said with my pale attempt at a Southern drawl.
He smiled. “Shut up, Prescott.”
Jay said, “Well, I think it’s about time we head back to Normal. I’m sure Kevin is getting concerned. You know, he really wanted to come, Prescott. Sometime I’ll have to have him tell you his crazy-ass John Wilkes Booth story. Bring beer.”
“I’m not sure this world is ready for Kevin,” I said with a laugh. I embraced my friend. “Safe travels...Oh, and where the hell did you have a helicopter stashed at that place, anyway?
“Ha ha! Don’t you worry about it, Prescott. But seriously, if you ever need me, night or day, no distance too far, three-sixty-five, you call me.”
“Done.”
I helped Cole up out of the doorway, and the three of us backed up several feet and watched them all climb into the helicopter. Jay, in the front passenger seat, put on his headset as the pilot did the same, and started flipping switches. I won’t pretend I know how to fly a helicopter. The blades slowly started to rotate, then picked up speed. The black helicopter lifted up and soon disappeared into the night.
Cole found his sea legs and Shields and I held to his pace as we started to walk back to the Jeep. Cole said, “When do we talk about the part where you had an angel inside you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I liked the part where you made a sword out of pure light,” said Shields.
“Oh, and thanks for fixing my ear, and Shields’ gunshot,” said Cole.
“That wasn’t me, guys. That was Malcolm. And you can’t possibly understand how close he cut it. He was not going to help us. I’m serious. We were as good as dead, until Chaos broke the plane and consumed Kade. He was cryptic. He said, “I have my orders.” The whole time I thought he meant his orders not to interfere. But now it feels like he was told to not interfere unless Chaos broke the plane, then his orders were to engage.”
“Prescott,” said Shields. “You suddenly look like bait. No. Maybe a better analogy is a pawn. You look like a pawn in a much bigger game.”
“Like between Heaven and Hell?” asked Cole.
“Yes,” I said.
“So, what are you going to do, Prescott?” asked Shields.
I thought about that for a minute. “This is what I’m going to do. Malcolm told me that I am what’s called a Point of Light
.
A Point of Light is a human that the angels have deemed needs to be protected because he inherently does good deeds. The angels call this world The Low Lying Lands
.
We are Low-Lyers
.
It’s my goal, starting right now, to form a new Protectorate
.
I hope you’ll join me in starting a new movement, where the Low-Lyers are free and the Freaks are on the run. I’m not stopping to until Chaos is dead and BH-2014 is completely eradicated.”
“Wow. I’m slightly aroused, commander!” said Cole, and he burst out laughing. “I’m in! Let’s do it!”
I was almost pissed off, but darn it if one of those little smiles didn’t creep across my face again. I turned, “Shields?”
“Sure,” she said. “Do I get to keep the sword?”
“Yes, you can keep the sword.”
We started walking towards the Jeep again when Cole, who was getting pretty good with questions, had one more. “Hey Prescott. Where is Malcolm? Is he going to be part of the band?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
My mind was on so many different topics as I approached the Jeep.
Where was Malcolm? What are we getting ourselves into? Where did Chaos escape to? Where the Hell is our next meal going to come from?
I was exhausted. Emotionally and physically spent. We were about ten feet from the Jeep when in I saw the tips of her ears slowly start to rise up from the front seat. Then I saw her eyes, and her muzzle. Lexi. She saw me. I saw her. Our eyes met. I wept.
BeforeI had a chance to touch my hand to her beautiful head, the ground jerked under my feet.
“What in the world was that?” asked Cole.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
Shields said, “Maybe we should-”
The ground pitched again. I fell forward through the open driver’s side window and into Lexi’s lap. Cole and Shields both tumbled to the asphalt.
“Get in! Now!”
I politely but forcibly shoved Lexi into the passenger seat as Cole and Shields scrambled into the Comanche via both back doors. I jammed the keys in the starter and gunned it in reverse before whipping the Jeep around to face the way we had come. Buildings disintegrated into rubble on either side of us as I floored the accelerator, sending us right through the heart of downtown Nashville.
Large plumes of dust and smoke obstructed my view as I was doing my best to miss the glass and chunks of building, racing fast and scared back up Broadway. I glanced at the rear view mirror and saw Cole and Shields marveling in horror as their city was reduced to nothing. At Broadway and Eighth Avenues, I jerked a hard left, headed up and out of skyscraper territory, away from downtown. The rumbling stopped.
I continued up Eighth Avenue, which, heading away from downtown, ran along a moderately steep incline. We passed an old boat shop, one of the Habitat stores, and had just crested the top of the hill when Cole said, “Stop, Prescott!” I stopped.
I brought the Comanche to a stop horizontally, under a long defunct traffic light. Cole opened the door and stepped out. Shields followed suit from her side. From the driver’s side, I turned and looked.
Oh my God.
Before The Descent, I imagined that people could stand on this corner and watch what was most likely a million beautiful sunsets over the Nashville skyline. The four of us stood in silence and looked at nothing. Nothing but smoke and devastation.
“What have we done?” asked Cole.
“We didn’t do this, Michael.” Shields wiped away the tears that had escaped down the side of her face. “This was Chaos.”
“Cole, remember what you feel like right now,” I said. “This most likely isn’t the last time you’ll see it. We have work to do and it’s not going to be easy. In fact, it’s going get worse before it ever gets better. But this is what we signed up for. We’re gonna stomp a mudhole in these fuckers.”
“We need to go back and help them,” said Cole.
Before I could answer, Shields interjected, “No, Michael. Obviously we didn’t know an earthquake was going to be result of our battle, but Prescott is right. The people of Nashville, have to rebuild themselves. They have to remember what it’s like to be a community and work together. They will do it. Have faith.”
“What she said,” I said.
“Okay.”
I turned and walked back towards the Jeep. We all filed into the Comanche and I fired it up. My Jeep must be a Point of Light as well. It feels indestructible. We continued down Eighth Avenue and turned left onto Wedgewood. Signs for Interstate 65 glared in the early morning sunlight and we veered right, onto the ramp. It’s unclear where we’re heading. The fight was only just beginning. But my friends and I are ready. And we’re in it for the long haul.
I turned the radio on and pressed the preset button for Doctor Midnite.
He might tell us where to go next. He seems to be in the know
. All I got was static, fuzzy static, like when I had first driven into Nashville. It was fading in and out. A female’s voice cut in and out, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. My head started to pound. No, worse. Like a screw was tightening in my skull.
Dammit!
“What are you listening to Pres..”
“Shut Up!” I screamed.
The voice was beginning to break through the static. Clearer.
Oh, my God, my fucking head!
Suddenly, coming out of the radio as if a more clear voice never existed, I heard:
“Go to work, brother. You are protected.”
I slammed on the brakes in the middle of the interstate in post-apocalyptic—and utterly destroyed—Nashville, Tennessee.
“Emily?”
THE END
AFTERWORD
Writing this book has been about as frightening a task as I’ve ever been asked to do. I have to thank Nick Cole, Michael Bunker, and the folks at Wonderment Media for having the faith in me to do it when I wasn’t sure I could. I had self-published only three short stories prior to this effort.
There are a few more people that I need mention. One dear friend—Jay Rives. He is not only a character in my book but a wonderful human being and one the closest friends I have, or ever will have. Jay actually lives in Normal, Illinois, and it was his suggestion to have the Normal Safe Zone be the Mitsubishi plant that currently operates there.
I must also give immense credit to Bob Crosley. Bob has been with Prescott almost as long as I have. Bob gives brilliant advice, he’s a great listener, gives honest feedback, and sincere praise. I’m not sure that what you have just finished reading would be in your hands without Bob’s invaluable time and guidance. If I were Luke Skywalker (and believe me, I’m not, but if I was), Bob Crosley would be Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Let me also thank my “Jedi Council” of beta readers: David Walters, Bill Carr, Ron Deal, Heidi Friedrichs, Catherine Violando, and Jay Rives. Not just this particular book. These brave souls read everything I write. They are
special.
I have to give a little above and beyond recognition for Heidi Friedrichs. Heidi volunteers her time to read literally everything I write, repeatedly. She gives editing advice and sound suggestions and feedback. Heidi has probably read this book twenty times. I can’t thank her enough.
Finally, and most importantly I must thank my wife Sara. Sara supported this effort from the very beginning and was graciously willing to pick up my slack when I was in down the rabbit hole writing. The Princess Bride reference was all her! I love you so much Babe.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bob Williams lives in Nashville, Tennessee with his wife Sara and daughter Kate. When Bob isn’t writing he works for Habitat for Humanity of Greater Nashville. Bob has two previous short story titles “Smoke” and “Magenta,” both currently available in the Amazon Kindle Store. Bob hopes you enjoy reading his words as much as he loves writing them.
Website:
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