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  Damn smiled crookedly. “Well, we can look for him tomorrow, but I have a situation I need to attend to right now.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Nate, when are you coming back to bed?” Petunia called from the bedroom.

  Damn grinned evilly, nodding.

  “Yeah, I see. You’re not thinking about my problem right now.”

  “It’s the other head that’s thinking, and without going into any details, you can sleep on the couch tonight. Then I’ll get the dudes together and we’ll pulverize the son of a bitch.”

  Rod drew from the bottle. “Fine, I guess.”

  Nate rose. “Didn’t you invest in a burglar alarm?”

  Rod rubbed his eyes. “Wish I had.”

  Damn flicked off the light. “Goodnight, man.” He walked back to the bedroom. Frolicking sounds followed.

  Rod finished the rest of the bottle and then got the bright idea to look out the window. As he rose he stumbled and fell instead. Therefore, he crawled to the couch and lay down. He felt a coverlet fall over his head.

  Rod flinched. “Who turned out the lights?”

  “Thought you might need it,” Petunia said.

  Rod positioned the coverlet over his body. “Thanks.”

  Then she pitter-pattered back to the bedroom. The door slammed and even more sensual sounds erupted.

  He ignored it. He fell asleep soon after but woke a few times in the night. He remembered his plight. It was a rude awakening. Once, hazy, Rod looked out the window and thought he saw something. Exhaustion took him however, and he lay down to sleep.

  Was Red the shadow in the street staring at the house?

  Rod woke at the crack of 1:30 p.m. to see Petunia standing over him.

  She smiled. “Sleeps like a log, doesn’t he?”

  “Hey, boss.” Damn said from the kitchen. “Grab a shower and come get some breakfast.”

  Rod rubbed his sleepy eyes, hearing birds chirp outside and smelling eggs, sausage and toast.

  “What are you starin’ at?” She put her hands on her hips.

  “Pet, leave the guy alone,” Damn said.

  “I’ll get the paper.” She trotted over to the door, opened it, gasped, looked on the stoop and then shut it quickly. The stench of death wafted in.

  Damn hastily stomped out of the kitchen. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Petunia turned quickly to face him, placing her hands on his bare chest. “You don’t want to look.”

  An hour later, Rod sat shotgun in Damn’s black truck. The shotgun sat between the two.

  Damn scowled as he fired up the engine. “He killed my dog. Let’s go get the bastard, boss.”

  Rod nodded.

  Damn tore into the street.

  The first place they started asking about Red was the club they’d just played at, but no one knew him. Rod thought it would be a good idea to go to Red’s parent’s house in Rod’s old neighborhood. They pulled into the driveway, and Rod alone got out and knocked on the door.

  After a few minutes, a middle-aged couple answered the door, both with red hair.

  “Rod, is that you?” Red’s mother remembered.

  “Yeah, hi, I’ve been—”

  “Have you done well for yourself? You were always trouble when you were a kid.”

  “Yes, I’m in a band and I’m doing very well, but—”

  “Looks like he’s still a bum to me,” Red’s dad said.

  “Oh yeah, well, screw you, buddy! My band’s about to get a label deal. What’s your worthless son doing?”

  “Worthless? You’d better check your information. He’s in college, majoring in mechanics.”

  “What college?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “Let me tell you something about your son. He’s a criminal. He burned down my house and killed my friend’s dog. You still proud of him?”

  “That’s a lie.”

  Rod pointed toward the truck. “You want to ask my friend? You want to see his dog’s corpse?”

  The old man considered this, looking toward the truck. “Did you call the police?”

  “No, they’re not going to do anything. I just need you to tell me where he is.”

  “Oh, I see, still a punk, wanting to take the law into your own hands. Well, no then, I’m not telling you jack.”

  Rod looked daggers at him. “I see where Red gets it from now.”

  “Now, you hold on. I’m not a criminal! I own my own garage. I’ve been banging on cars since before you were in diapers.”

  “And probably did a little banging on him too. That would explain why he’s so screwed up.”

  “Look,” Red’s mother offered. “We don’t want any trouble. It’s just not a good idea to tell you our son’s whereabouts, the way you feel right now. I think you’d better leave.”

  “That’s mighty white of you.” Rod stomped back to the truck and climbed in.

  Damn looked him over. “Did you get the goods on him?”

  “No, his parents are as screwed up as he is.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  “Let’s hit the country bars. He always did like that shit.”

  They hit the streets, but no one knew anything about Red. Rod and Damn got some pretty funny looks and it was obvious the people thought the two death metal musicians were too weird to tell anything to.

  As they hopped back in the truck, Rod said, “Maybe we should call the police.”

  Damn glared at him. “Are you kidding me? Those motherfuckers aren’t going to do anything for us.”

  A truck bashed into them from behind.

  Damn blanched. “What the hell?”

  Rod looked in the rear-view mirror. Red drove a truck with two rednecks crammed into it.

  With a grin, Red stuck his head out the window and cried “Yee-haw!”

  Damn grimaced. “Great, it’s your buddy.”

  Red’s buddies whooped and hollered too. Red bashed into Damn’s truck again.

  Damn looked at Rod. “Hold on. I’m going to lose that Ford POS and get the rest of the band.”

  Damn accelerated. At first, the beat-up old white Ford kept up with them, but gradually Nate lost him . . . until he heard a siren and saw cherries in the rear-view mirror.

  Rod slammed his hands on the dashboard. “Perfect!”

  Damn sighed and pulled over. The cop took his time getting out of the car.

  Five minutes later, the huge policeman approached the car. “Hello. Any reason you’re trying to break land-speed records?”

  Damn looked up. “Yes, officer, someone was chasing us.”

  “Is that what happened to your rear bumper?”

  “Yes, they bashed into it.”

  “Get a license number?”

  “Uh . . . no.” Damn looked at Rod. “Did you?”

  Rod shook his head.

  The cop frowned. “Can I see your license and proof of insurance, please?”

  “Sure.” Damn dug them out and handed them over.

  The officer looked them over. “And where is this person that was chasing you now?”

  “We lost him.”

  “Sit tight, ‘Damn Nate Shun’. You wouldn’t have any marijuana in the car, would you?”

  “No, officer.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Damn frowned. “Great, now he’s going to make us wait an agonizing fifteen minutes while he checks for warrants.”

  Rod nodded. “They’re good for that.”

  After the officer took a seat in his squad car, Red’s truck passed him and as they passed Rod and Nate, one of Red’s buddies threw a bag of cocaine in their truck. Rod turned to see if the officer saw that, and the cop was looking downward, probably at his computer.

  “Losers!” Red cried as they tore away.

  “Oh God.” Rod eyeballed the bag of cocaine on the truck’s floor by his feet.

  “Get rid of it,” Damn said. “Throw it out the window.”r />
  “I can’t throw it out the window! The cop will see.”

  “Put it in the glove compartment!” Damn craned his neck. “Quick! He’s coming back!”

  With shaking hands, Rod stuffed it into the glove compartment under a couple of maps. He shut the door and sat up rigidly.

  Rod turned to look at Damn anxiously. “You don’t have any warrants, do you?”

  “No.”

  Both men sat silently as the policeman returned. “Hi again, Mr. Shun. Well, you don’t have any warrants.” The policeman handed his license and insurance card back to him. “But we received a call from a Red Tisdale saying you’ve been harassing him.”

  Rod smacked himself on the forehead. “Tell me you’re kidding!”

  “No, son, it’s a very serious matter.”

  Damn looked at the cop. “It’s the other way around. He’s been harassing us. Well, he’s been harassing Rod here, and now me. He burned down Rod’s house and killed my dog.”

  “I remember the call about the fire. If Red’s responsible, did you report it to us?”

  Rod frowned. “Well . . . no . . . but—”

  “I see. You gentlemen don’t trust the police then?”

  Damn sighed.

  Rod blanched. Oh man, this isn’t good.

  “Are you sure there are no drugs in the car?” the officer asked.

  Rod’s stomach twisted into knots. Oh man, I wished I’d listened to Damn and threw the dope out the window! Oh, hell no.

  “We’re in a band. We don’t do drugs though,” Damn assured him.

  The policeman frowned as he took off his sunglasses. “That’s what they all say.”

  Rod put his face in his hands.

  “Step out of the car, boys,” the officer said.

  Damn sighed as the officer gave him room to step out. “Are we under arrest, officer?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to search the car.”

  As they stepped out, Rod wanted to pull his hair out. The policeman leaned inside and looked around.

  “What the hell are we going to do?” Rod whispered to Damn.

  “Just be cool,” Damn whispered back.

  “Well, look what we have here!” the cop said.

  Rod slapped his head a few times as the cop came out of the car with the cocaine. “Didn’t you see that truck that went by when you were checking us for warrants? They threw that bag of cocaine in our truck!”

  “I saw a truck go by, yes, but I didn’t see anybody throw anything, and if they did, why was this in the glove compartment?”

  “We…we didn’t want you to find it and . . . think we were snorting it.”

  “Uh-huh, hands behind your backs.”

  “Oh my fucking God!” Rod said. “This isn’t happening!”

  “Look, I’m a witness, and Red Tisdale drove by and one of his buddies threw the cocaine into the truck,” Damn countered.

  “Likely story.” The cop cuffed them. “I’m arresting you for possession of cocaine, which is a felony in the state of Florida. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law . . .”

  I’m going to lose my mind! I can’t beat him. He won.

  Rod and Damn looked very somber as they sat in the holding cell. Some of the other men didn’t smell too good.

  “If we ever get out of here, I’m going to make friends with Red,” Rod said while staring at the wall.

  “What?” Damn looked at him. “Oh no, not after what he did.”

  A big country bumpkin walked over to them then. “Did you mention Red?”

  “Huh?” Rod looked up at him.

  “Are you talking about Red Tisdale?”

  Rod nodded. “Yes, an old school friend of mine.”

  Damn scowled. “What are you doing?”

  “Well, a friend of Red’s is a friend of mine.” The hulk of a man stuck out his hand. “My name’s Keith Walker. What’s yours?”

  “Rod Blaze, it’s nice to meet you.” Rod shook the man’s hand.

  Damn hissed.

  “You guys in a band?” Keith asked.

  “Yes, a country western band,” Rod answered.

  “Well, YEE-HEE. I’ll be damned. What are you in for?”

  “Somebody framed us.”

  Keith laughed. “Me too, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  A guard entered the holding cell. “Keith, you’re out of here. A guy by the name of Red baled you out.”

  Keith smiled.

  Rod rose. He thought hard for a few seconds. “All right, Keith, I want you to tell Red that I want to be his friend. Tell him I’m calling a truce and I’ll be his friend ‘til the end. Can you do that for me?”

  Keith slapped him on the back. “Hell, I’ll do anything for a friend of the rudest dog on the block. You fellas take care.”

  “You take care too.” Rod shook his hand again.

  Keith hummed a happy tune and exited.

  Damn forked Rod the evil eye. “Have you gone nuts?”

  “Look, man, he’s got us. There’s nothing we can do but make friends with him.”

  “He killed my dog.”

  “Then press charges when we get out of here.”

  Damn hissed again.

  “You’ll see,” Rod continued. “Any minute now, that guard will come back and say we’re free to go. Red will say he saw someone throw the cocaine in as he drove by. It’s the only way.”

  Damn sighed. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  “Rod Blaze?” the guard asked.

  Rod smiled and got up. “See? Get ready to be a free man.” Rod walked over to the guard. “Yes? Am I free to go?”

  The guard laughed. “Not quite. I’ve got a message from a man named Red Tisdale.”

  Rod felt the color draining from his face. “Yes?”

  “He says he wouldn’t be your friend if you were the last person on earth, and he’s going to testify at your trial that he saw you using drugs at the club you played at.”

  “What?”

  The guard shut the door.

  Rod sank to his knees, unable to believe his plight.

  After the trial, a guard led Rod to his prison cell as many prisoners whistled at him because of his very long hair. I’m going to have to shave my head now.

  The door closed him in. He stood there pinching himself, trying to wake up from his nightmare.

  The guard looked him over. “Welcome to your new home.” He walked away whistling.

  Rod lay down on his hard bunk. This is it, prison. I’m going to kill him when I get out. He decided to take a nap. What else was there to do?

  Rod woke to the sound of the cell opening. He flicked his lazy eyes and opened them to a sight he couldn’t believe.

  The guard smiled. “Rod, you’ve got a roommate.”

  It was Red.

  The doors shut and the guard walked away whistling again.

  Red recognized him. “Hey, Rod, they got me. Your buddy’s girlfriend called the police and told them I’d killed her dog and burned down your house.”

  Rod growled and gritted his teeth. “It’s YOU.”

  “And I meant what I said. I’m the worst enemy you’ll ever have. Then, when we’re even-Steven, I’m still not going to forgive you for what you did. I guess you’d better get used to pain, pal.”

  Rod lost it and attacked him.

  Rod sat in the hole, hating life. The nervous breakdown that had been brewing bubbled up now because he couldn’t take Red’s constant attacks anymore. He started cackling.

  “Red, old buddy, old pal, you’ve won and I’m insane now! You’ll make me pay ‘til the living end, there’s no such thing as an enemy or friend! Red, Rod, Red, Rod, war, hate, it never ends.”

  He couldn’t stop cackling.

  That’s when Rod saw the rats coming for him. At first, he heard them squeaking—first a few, and then a multitude. Then he felt them crawling all over him and biting him.

  He screamed.

&nbs
p; A group of church members came to see the prisoners. The warden thought it would be a good idea for them to talk to Rod. Suffering from brain fever, he sat at a table looking at the short-haired men wearing suits.

  “What’s your name, brother?” one of them asked.

  Rod’s eyes held a glassy look. “I’m Rod, Red’s worst enemy, and he’s my hell.”

  “Well . . . my name’s Bob, and this is Ronald. Nice to meet you, Rod.”

  The other man echoed that sentiment.

  “Nice is nice if they’re nice but Red’s not and he’s dragging me down to hell.” Rod brushed his hands over his arms and face as if to knock off rats.

  “Who is this Red character, brother?” Ronald asked.

  “He’s my cell mate. You could call him my hell mate. Damn rats!” He brushed off invisible vermin again.

  “Rats? I don’t see any rats.”

  “Can’t you see them?”

  “No, Brother. Can I be honest? It sounds as if demons have given you emotional problems. You’re hallucinating.”

  “Oh.” Rod looked sad.

  Bob cleared his throat. “May I ask why you and Red are having so much trouble?”

  “He won’t forgive me for childhood shit. Whoops! Sorry, bro’.”

  “Hmm. Brother Rod, you need the Lord. If you’d accept Him, he’d heal you of your emotional problems. And you know one of the best paths to healing, brother? It’s forgiveness. I’m sure if you forgave this Red character for everything he’s done he’d also forgive you and the relationship would take a healthy turn.”

  Rod’s eyes lit up. “You think so?”

  Bob smiled. “I know so. The Lord’s word will not return to him void. Let’s pray.”

  Later, in the cell with Red, Rod lay reading the Bible.

  Red peered down at him. “What are you reading that for?”

  Rod smiled up at him. He felt a lot better mentally since accepting Christ. “I want you to know I forgive you for everything you’ve done. Even though you’ll never forgive me, I love you as a brother.”

  Red cackled. “Well, if it isn’t the hippy Bible boy!”

  “You’re not going to get to me. Sticks and stones will break my bones and—”

  Red slapped him.

  Rod turned the other cheek to him. “Slap me on the other cheek too.”