"Everyone! The car has a full tank, so we're packing the explosives in a suitcase. Life is short, and there are many dangers on the roads we travel, so let's dance!" ~Translation of the introduction of "Party Poison"
As the last notes of "The Kids from Yesterday" faded away, I looked over to the booths and saw Grace crying silently into Show Pony's shoulder as tears streamed down his face. I shook my head sadly and tried to find a way to comfort them, and all the rest of us.
"All right, children, the lights are out and the party's over," I explained, hoping more than ever that it was true. I'd heard that Airi Isoda had gone rogue and apparently dusted Korse; she had gotten off on a technicality that she had obviously planned from the beginning. While she hadn't taken his place as head Exterminator, she was in charge of patrols, coordinating and overseeing them, and I'd recently received a message from Zone 4 broadcast by one NewsAGoGo.
Clearly, she was still kickin' and breathin'.
But I had business of my own to attend to now. "It's time for me, Dr. D, to start runnin' and say goodbye,"- we'd escape out to someplace in Zone 3, where I'd heard there was a good source of supplies and some clear channels- "for a little while," I added, so no one would think I was gone for good. Of course I wasn't.
"And I know you're gonna miss me, so I'll leave you with this." When I said that, it wasn't just to the people listening out in the dust; it was to my all friends who had been dusted: Joey, back in the 29th Battalion of the 2013 Helium Wars; Cherri Cola, who'd formed a band with me a long, long time ago; and Jet Star and Kobra Kid, my apocalypse buddies. I was gonna miss them too, dammit.
I'd planned to say this at the funeral, but since we'd never had a formal one for Jet and Kobra, I might as well say it now. "You know that big ball of radiation we call the sun? Well, it'll burst you into flames if you stay in one place too long. That is, if the static don't get ya first. So remember, even if you're dusted, you may be gone, but out here in the desert, your shadow lives on without you." That actually didn't sound too corny.
"This is Dr. Death Defying, signing off." Whew.
I clicked off the mic, but then Hot Chimp, from her perch next to me, flipped a couple switches and stuck something into the old cassette player. A scratchy instrumental version of the national anthem started to play. I raised an eyebrow at her; what the heck was she doing?
Party Poison seemed to be wondering the same thing. Standing up, he said, "Lindsey, what the fuck? This is no time to be patriotic! America doesn't even exist anymore; why would we- "
She held up her hand to silence him, and said, "Hey, hey. I'm gonna be genius. Just wait."
He sighed, but sat back down.
Trusting that DJ Hot Chimp had some kinda clever plan, I settled back too, and sure enough, as the song built up to the last note on what would be the word "brave," she reached over and yanked out the input cable for the cassette player.
Everyone, including Hot Chimp, flinched at the screeching noise that came out of the speakers, sounding like someone was mutilating a guitar and killing a cat at the same time. I was sitting right next to the speakers, so I got the full blast, but while I winced and covered my ears, I laughed at how genius she was.
After an hour of work, we managed to load all the stuff we'd used for the broadcast into the trunk of the Trans-Am. After another ten minutes of arguing, we'd finally decided who would get the window seats and who would drive. I wasn't looking forward to the cramped drive over to our second hideout to pick up the van, but then Fun Ghoul walked out with a last box of junk and announced that he was going to ride Kobra Kid's old stolen motorbike, the one we'd used in the attack on the Bus. That gave those of us in the backseat a little room to spread out, which hopefully meant that Show Pony wouldn't be able to fall asleep on my shoulder again.
As we were about to take off, Party Poison suddenly said he'd forgotten something and went back in. I rolled my eyes impatiently; we'd stayed here long enough already. But he returned in seconds with a CD, which he popped into the car's stereo and cranked up. It was "Vampire Money," which I thought was one of the best songs on the album 'cause of its sarcasm and total "fuck-off" attitude. I hadn't played it at the listening party since I couldn't find a place to put it without interrupting the story we were trying to tell.
It definitely worked for right here and now, though.
Party started the car, Fun Ghoul revved the engine on what was now his motorbike, Show Pony put his arms around both me and Grace (I let him, for once), and I turned around for one last look at the diner. We'd contaminated it, all right; every inch of its walls was coated in graffiti. And beyond the diner, just visible next to the road, were the tombstones of Grace's mother, Adrenaline Angel, Sweet Revenge, and of course Jet Star and Kobra Kid.
I could see nothing else to do, so I saluted our friends' graves. Fun Ghoul drove up beside us on his bike, which he'd repainted with shiny red cobra logos, and suddenly shouted and popped a perfect wheelie. I chuckled at him, and for once didn't mind getting one-upped.
In a haze of road dust and rock music, the rest of us Fabulous Killjoys drove off towards a future that was positively dangerous.