The Empty Ones by Robert Brockway Read Free Book Online

universe. Crazy, pretentious gibberish, obviously, but at least it all sounded like real big picture stuff. The Unnoticeables we’d seen since the angel died hadn’t said anything like that. They just seemed to want us dead. I’ll admit it: At first, I just wanted to go after Marco as the last act of a desperate woman. If only because death sounded pretty close to sleep, and I could sure use a nap. But now, I was starting to think we had a chance. Then something occurred to me that I should have thought of sooner.
    â€œCarey,” I said. He stopped ogling Sally the Saddest Waitress’s saggy ass to point his bloodshot eyes in my direction. “Why did Marco let me live, after I took out the angel? You said he wasn’t hurt when the angel went up, and it’s not like any of us were in any shape to fight after that. Why not just kill me then and there?”
    â€œHe ran,” Carey said. “After the angel shattered like a dropped disco ball and his psychopath pals starting melting, Marco took one look at you, screamed like a little girl, and ran away as fast as he could.”
    I didn’t have anything to say. Jackie smiled, then it spread to Carey.
    â€œWow,” I finally managed, and downed the rest of my mug of what I could only call “flat coffee.”
    â€œLet’s do it, then,” Carey said, waving Sally over for either the check or a filthy proposition. “Let’s go kick the devil’s ass.”

 
    SIX
    1978. London, England. Carey.
    There were two Unnoticeables coming toward us down the aisle from the front of the bus, a couple more from the rear, and maybe a half dozen still in their seats and just starting to move. The girl with the striped leggings was fixing the ones ahead of us with a stare like Clint Eastwood after somebody shat in his cornflakes, which I guess left me with the ones behind. I uncapped the hair spray I’d lifted from the girl at the Rainbow and flicked my scarred and singed bumblebee Zippo once, twice. On the third time it caught. I tried to think of something clever to say to the blurry face nearest me, but I wound up going with “Here’s fire in your face, fucker.”
    I hit the little tab and shot out a fucking monumental gout of flame. It was like watching a volcano orgasm.
    Holy shit, girls put this crap on their heads?!
    The Unnoticeable on the left seemed more startled than hurt, but the one on the right was wearing some bullshit polyester disco blouse. He lit up like a roman candle.
    Serves you right for having no class, you molten bastard.
    I turned around to reap some cool points with the little punk rock chick, only to find that she’d already bashed one of her guys’ heads nearly off his neck and had the other in a leg lock, using her brass knuckles to pummel him into a refreshing mist.
    I would not be scoring anything today.
    Somebody seized my arms from behind, and the can and lighter scattered down the aisle.
    Oh right, the other one.
    I tried to get my feet up to kick off of one of the benches, but the guy was strong. He was hefting me right up into the air, and I couldn’t find purchase. He couldn’t hurt me without letting me go, and I couldn’t do anything to get away until he did. It was a stalemate. But his eraser-faced buddies were coming to break it for us. An old lady to my left with a ratty gray shawl; a muscle-bound guy in a too-tight tank top to my right. They were closing in, and all I could do was flail and kick at the open air.
    Then the girl saw us, dropped the Unnoticeable whose face she’d turned into a meaty pudding, and came hurtling down the aisle like a bowling ball. She scattered the old lady and knocked the ’roid-head down so hard he left a dent in the metal pole with his skull.
    Nobody is that strong. Much less this short, chubby, couldn’t-be-more-than-seventeen-year-old chick. What the hell is going on? Oh shit, is she going to…?
    I ducked