The Kill Society (Sandman Slim 9)

“And why kill everyone? Why burn the town?” I say.

“He found something crucial today. My guess is that he doesn’t want to take a chance on someone else finding it.”

I look around at the chaos, and something hits me. “I’m getting a look at what’s under that tarp.”

“This might not be a good night. It will be well guarded this close to an unknown town.”

A soul with no ears and no nose runs by with a Molotov cocktail in his hand.

“That might be a good reason to do it. It’s the last thing they’d expect.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that. Please be careful.”

“I’m always careful. It’s the whiskey that isn’t careful.”

I get on the Harley.

“Where are you going?” Traven says.

“I’m going back for my stuff.” I had left my coat, cigarettes, and the little knife I took off Doll Man in Traven’s camper. “In case things go wrong, I’m leaving you a pack of Maledictions. You should stay away from me for a while.”

Traven looks at the fire.

“If that’s the way it has to be.”

“It is,” I say. “Don’t worry. We have unfinished business.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

I gun the bike and grab my stuff out of the camper. When I get back to the road, I leave the Harley by a giant earthmover covered in spikes like a prehistoric porcupine. I walk into the town as members of the havoc carry out furniture and craps tables. The smart ones grab armfuls of chips and cases of whiskey. I wave and give a thumbs-up to some of them as they go by. I look like an idiot, but that’s okay. I want to be seen. I want to be part of the group. The more they’re used to me, the more invisible I can be later.

Outside a burning bank someone dropped a torch. I pick it up and light a Malediction. Then I stroll downtown to join in the animal fun.

Survive. That’s all that counts. Survive and find a way home.

The havoc has been looting clothing stores. They’re dressed in golf shoes, wedding dresses, and tuxedoes. I help a group in marching-band uniforms set fire to a library.

Walking along the main road through town with my torch, I hum an old Circle Jerks song, “Wild in the Streets.” I think of Candy. What would she think of me now? I like to think she’d understand, but who knows? Anyway, this is no time to contemplate that. Tonight, smile like a shark and mean it.

I help some Hellions push a fire truck through a casino lobby. They don’t steal anything. It’s just good fun.

On a side street is a gun shop. I push my way through the crowd and grab a Colt Peacemaker. Stick it down the back of my waistband. Of course, by the time I get to the ammo case, it’s been picked clean.

Fuck my luck.

Pretty soon the whole town is burning.

On the way back to camp, a Christmas elf hands me a bottle of good whiskey and runs off hand in hand with a Playboy bunny.

I drink enough of the bottle that there’s liquor on my breath. Throw the rest through the window of a drive-through chapel.

Fuck you, Elvis.

“Wild, wild, wild, wild

Wild in the Streets”