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The evening air outside the shop was grey and cool. Shrubs and Joshua trees stirred lightly in the breeze. Cherri Cola watched a dust-spattered car drive down the highway, the last rays of sunlight glinting off the windshield. For the moment, he felt calm and still, like a thick liquid in a glass. He steadied himself, then headed back inside the shop, where the radio crackled on the front desk.
“--still no sight of him here,” Dr. Death Defying said. “Word is that he took out another Killjoy on the road. If you’re driving down West Paloverde, keep an eye out. Don’t stop for any white-suited hitchhikers, and don’t trust them if they say they’re not Dracs, because they’re probably bullshitting you--”
“The Drac’s still out there?” Cherri said. He leaned against the desk, where Tommy Chow Mein was scribbling in a record book. Papers were scattered across the counter.
“At the moment, yes,” Chow Mein said. “They found a squad car out past Zone Eight. If that was his, he’ll probably be dead in the sand by sundown.”
Cherri nodded. He relaxed against the desk, watching the sun sink behind the mountains. Orange and pink streaked across the horizon. When the sky was dark, he locked the front door and flipped the sign to CLOSED, then flicked the light switch. Greenish lights hummed to life in the ceiling.
“Are you staying late tonight, Tom?” Cherri said as Chow Mein gathered up the papers.
“No, not tonight,” he said. “The Vs called and said they can’t make it. They’re chasing a lead on that Drac down in Sunburst.”
“Yeah? That’s fine. I can hang around for another hour.”
As Chow Mein headed back to his office, Cherri grabbed a broom and swept out the sand and dust that customers had tracked in. He straightened the magazine rack, adjusted goods on the shelves, and re-hung the dead string of decorative lights that had fallen during the day. He checked on the goods in the rumbling fridge, then peeled off the ancient band fliers that were plastered to the windows. The oldest fliers were nearly sun-bleached white.
As the radio crackled with news on the Drac, a faint buzzing started in the back of his head. The buzzing grew louder and louder until Cherri switched off the radio. He leaned against the front desk until the dizzying noise had faded away. Then he headed for the office, where he sat down in the chair in front of Chow Mein’s desk. The office was silent except for the sound of rustling papers.
“I’m thinking about going to the bonfire tomorrow night,” Cherri said after a while.
“Are you?” Chow Mein said.
“Yeah. It’s the last one before fall begins. I want to thank the Greenies for the vegetables they sent us.”
“Thank them for the seeds, too,” Chow Mein said. “They helped keep us afloat this past month.”
Cherri nodded. “Oh!” he said. “That reminds me. Kobra heard about a farm up north that’s selling off seeds. I’ve got the address...”
He reached into his pocket, then stopped. A muffled thud had just sounded in one of the motel rooms. For a moment, time seemed to freeze like a paused VHS tape. Then Cherri’s expression hardened. He climbed out of his seat, sliding his ray gun from its holster.
“Stay here, Tom,” he said. But Chow Mein was already drawing a sleek white ray gun from a desk drawer. Cherri had seen the gun a dozen times before. But he thought of the white ray guns clenched in Draculoids’ fists, and the buzzing rang faintly in the back of his head.
He shook it off and marched to the hallway. The first four rooms were empty. But when he opened the fifth door, the room was unusually drafty. Cherri flicked the light switch. The light flickered to life, illuminating what at first appeared to be an empty motel room. Then he spotted the back door. It was swung wide open, revealing the dark parking lot behind the shop.
Something rustled next to the bed like a rat. Cherri whirled around and aimed his gun at the figure. “Stop,” he said.
A man was crouched down beside the bed. A stack of cardboard boxes had tumbled around him, littering boxes of medicine around his feet. The light glinted off the soles of his shoes, shiny and black beneath a coating of dust.
“Turn around,” Cherri said.
The man shakily climbed to his feet, then turned around. He wore a white suit with a Better Living ID card clipped to his lapel. Suddenly Cherri was awash with the old fury, horribly familiar like the sight of a hated relative. The black shoes, the bland white suit, the glaring ID card: a factory-made monster fresh off the conveyor belt. He gripped his gun so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“Get away from the merch,” Cherri said. “Step forward.” Coldness emanated from him behind his mask.
The Draculoid stumbled away from the boxes. A mop of sweaty black hair was plastered to his face. His skin was clammy and pale like a fish, with a greenish hue. Cherri thought of the report about the squad car in Zone Eight, and something clicked in his mind.
“Zone sickness,” he said to Chow Mein, who nodded.
“I just want some medicine,” the Drac said hoarsely. “Just give me some medicine.”
“You have radiation poisoning,” Chow Mein said. “Go back to the city. There’s nothing we can do for you.”
“I’ve tried,” he said. “I’ve tried going back, but these fucking goons are after me, everywhere I go.”
“We’ve heard the reports,” Chow Mein said. “You’ve been attacking Killjoys in their settlements.”
“They came after me,” he said. “I’ve been wandering around this shithole, trying to find some medicine, but you rebels have kicked the shit out of me. Look at me. I’m a dead man walking. I just want some medicine, something to make it a little easier.”
Don’t listen to anything they say, Cherri’s squad leader had once said. If they get caught, they’ll try to talk their way out of it. He looked into the Drac’s eyes, and fiery anger rippled through his body.
“Get down,” Cherri said, moving forward. “On your knees. Right now.”
When the Drac didn’t move, he kicked the back of his leg. The Drac yelped and sank to the floor. Cherri planted his boot on his shoulder, then aimed his gun at the back of his head. To him, the movement was as natural as pulling out a chair.
“Cherri,” Chow Mein said warningly.
“I’m not going to kill him,” Cherri said. “I’m just going to knock him out.”
His hands shook as he adjusted the setting on his gun. He could kill him, he realized. The thought sent a rush of adrenaline through his body. He could shoot the Drac and tell Chow Mein that he had accidentally flipped the wrong setting. Or better yet, he could tell the truth. He could admit that he killed the Drac. He killed this lying, drug-addled beast that murdered Killjoys and women and children like Destroya plowing indifferently through a village. Cherri tried to swallow back the rage, but it bubbled up like a froth spewing over the lid of a pot.
Suddenly the Drac’s elbow collided with his knee. Cherri yelped and staggered back, then fired into the air. The Drac scrambled to his feet and darted out the doorway. Cherri shouted and took off after him. The familiar energy rushed back to his muscles, powering him as he sprinted across the empty lot that quickly crumbled into sand. Cherri darted around the plants and shrubs, his eyes fixed on the rapidly shrinking figure in front of him. The back of the white suit rippled in the air like a curtain. Cherri fired at him, but his shot wavered as he ran, hitting shrubs and sparking against tree trunks.
He pushed himself to accelerate, sending sharp pains shooting through his legs. Cherri barreled toward the Drac like a car speeding down the highway. He was about to fire again when in one stomach-lurching moment, his foot caught on a branch. The ground ripped away beneath him. Trees, sky, and earth whirled around his head as he tumbled against the ground. His head smacked against the earth. A rock gashed his elbow. Finally he skidded to a halt, the sand scraping against his flesh. Coughing, he rolled over on his back. The stars blinked in the sky above him.
Once he had regained his strength, he pushed himself to a sitting position, then climbed to his feet. He scanned the area, but the plain was empty except for the trees. The moon had emerged over the mountains. Furious rage bubbled inside him again, mixed with hard self-loathing. But again his squad leader’s words came to mind: If he gets away, let him get away. Don’t waste your energy. Regroup and come up with another plan.
The motel stood on the horizon. Cherri trudged back through the plain, smoldering with cold fury. His clothes stuck to his body with sweat. When he reached the motel, Chow Mein stood in the doorway. He started to close the door behind Cherri, then noticed the padlock that the Draculoid had broken. He lifted the rusty chain, shook his head, then slammed the door behind them.
Once they were back in the main area, Chow Mein grabbed a transmitter from under the counter. “I’m going to call the Vs,” he said. “If they’re still in Sunburst, they should be here in half an hour.” He glanced over at Cherri, then stopped. “Good Lord, what happened to you?” he said.
Cherri glanced down at his arm. Blood trickled down from the cut on his elbow. He looked at him coolly, then wiped his face on the back of his hand.
“Sit down, son, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Chow Mein said. He tugged the front door handle to make sure it was locked, then switched on the transmitter. A green light blinked on.
“Don’t bother, Tom,” Cherri said.
“Pardon?”
“Don’t bother calling them,” Cherri said. “I’ve got it. I’m going to handle it.”
“You’re not going to handle it,” Chow Mein said.
“I can do it,” Cherri said. “I know where he’s headed. Dracs always go to Route Bearclaw. It goes straight to the city, and most Killjoys don’t use it at night. I’ve got the years of training, Tom. I know how they think.”
“I don’t care what you think you know,” Chow Mein said. “I don’t care what those lunatics at the Soldiers for Peace told you, because it’s irrelevant. You’re not going back out there.”
“Yeah? Tell me why, Tom. Tell me why you won’t send a former Soldier for Peace out there to kill a Drac that’s been terrorizing the Zones for a week!”
“You know why, Cherri,” Chow Mein said. “For God’s sake, you know why.”
They held eye contact for a moment. Cherri’s hands shook with anger. Before he could react, Cherri grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Cherri said, his eyes blazing. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Tom. This is my mission. You’re not going to stop me.”
In one swift moment, Cherri grabbed his head and slammed it against the counter. Chow Mein shouted and fell to his knees, clutching his skull. Cherri grabbed his transmitter from the floor and pocketed it. Then he unlocked the front door and stormed outside, letting it slam shut behind him. A moment later, an engine roared outside. Headlights passed through the curtains as Cherri backed away. Then the sound of the engine trailed off down the highway.
Silence filled the air. Chow Mein hissed in pain, clutching the side of his head. After a few moments, he slowly climbed to his feet. Then he grabbed his ray gun from the counter and headed into his office, locking the door behind him. He took out a radio from a desk drawer. His head ached as if someone had smashed it with a brick, but the pain was already starting to fade.
He switched on the radio and turned to the Ultra V’s frequency, pulling out the twisted microphone cord. “Hello?” he said. “Yes. This is Tommy Chow Mein. I need to speak with Val.”
---
Kobra Kid sat behind the gas station desk, flipping through the radio waves. Talk, music, static, talk, commercials, static. He sighed and switched off the radio, then cradled his head in his hand, drumming his fingertips against the desk. The door was locked and the shades were drawn. A book sat a few feet away on the desk, but he was too jittery to read.
Suddenly the side door opened. Kobra jumped, then relaxed when Party Poison stepped in with his transmitter in his hand. His face was pale.
“Hey!” Kobra said. “Did you hear anything about the Drac?”
“No,” Poison said. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “No, uh...Pony just called. I need to talk to you.”
At the sight of his face, Kobra’s expression became drawn. He slowly stood up, a hundred scenarios rushing through his head. “What is it?” he said.
“It’s Cherri,” Poison said, a strain behind his voice. “He relapsed, Kid. He attacked Chow Mein.”
Kobra went cold. “What?” he said.
“He got into a fight with that Drac, and he just--it all came back to him,” he said. “The Soldiers for Peace shit.”
“Wait,” Kobra said incredulously. “He fought that Drac? The one that’s been all over the waves?”
“Yeah. I guess he and Chow Mein started fighting, and Cherri attacked him and just--ran off. The Vs found him on Route Bearclaw. He wouldn’t stop ranting about how it was his duty to kill the Drac.” Poison wiped his eyes on the palm of his hand. “They called Dr. D after they caught him. They didn’t know what to do with him. He said to just hold him somewhere and wait until it passes.”
“Where is he now?” Kobra said.
“He’s in a motel. The one at the end of town. The Skylight.”
“Is Chow Mein okay?”
“Yeah,” Poison said quietly. “He’s fine.”
Kobra stood silently for a moment. His head whirred with a thousand gears at once. Then he grabbed the jacket that he had draped over the chair and started pulling it on.
“I’m going to go see him,” he said.
“What?” Poison said. “No. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
“I’ve gotta talk to him,” Kobra said. “He’s in bad shape, man. I can’t leave him alone with the fucking Vs.”
“Kid, I don’t trust him,” Poison said quietly.
Kobra slipped on his gloves. “Neither do I,” he said.
Ignoring his brother’s protests, he hurried outside, where the Trans Am was parked in front of the door. A cool night breeze wafted through the air. He climbed inside and started the engine. The passenger door opened and Poison climbed inside, then slammed the door shut. The look on his face meant no arguments. Kobra raised his eyebrows, then backed out onto the highway.
Half an hour later, they reached the motel at the end of town. Poison followed Kobra down the hallway, where Val Velocity stood near one of the doorways. He grinned at them when they approached. Kobra pushed past him and knocked on the door.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s Kobra and Poison.”
He waited a few moments. When nothing happened, he knocked again.
“Looks like visiting hours are over,” Val said.
“Shut the fuck up, man,” Kobra said. He was starting to knock again when the door opened. Vamos appeared in the doorway, wearing a candy heart necklace. Kobra vaguely wondered where she had found it.
“Shh!” she said, holding a finger to her lips. “Don’t wake the baby!”
Her eyes danced as she looked over at Vaya, and they both burst into giggles. The brothers exchanged looks as they stepped inside the room. Then Kobra spotted Cherri, and the mirth withered away.
Cherri sat on the floor beside the bed, his wrist handcuffed to the bedpost. His left arm was smeared with blood up to the elbow. Sweat plastered his hair to his face. There was a hardness in his face that Kobra had never seen before, like a Scarecrow officer trained to kill. He drew back, Poison patting his shoulder. It was the first time that he could remember Poison ever looking at Cherri with scorn.
“Hey,” Kobra said shakily.
“Hey,” Cherri said. “Look--we’re wasting time, Kid. That fucking Drac’s still out there.”
“Other gangs are on it,” Poison said quietly.
“Other gangs?” Cherri said. “I don’t want to hear about other gangs, man. They’ve let him run around here for a week. How many people has he killed? How many has he killed right now, since I let him get away?”
“Stop it, Cherri,” Kobra said.
“No,” Cherri said. “No, I’ve tried to take him out, I’ve tried to protect this town, but all I hear is everyone protecting this Drac, and no one will tell me why!”
“Because it’s killing you!” Kobra said. “You attacked Chow Mein, you drove all the way out to Route Bearclaw, you’re chained to a fucking bedpost because you can’t settle down--”
“Who else can do it?” Cherri shouted. “Who else has the guts to do what I’ve done?”
“What you’ve done?” Kobra said. “Did it take guts to attack Chow Mein? Huh? Did it take guts to run out to Route Bearclaw like some bloodthirsty wavehead? This isn’t you, man! This is Agent Cherri Cola! You’re turning back into the monster!”
Cherri sank back against the wall. He glared up at Kobra through watery eyes. Kobra looked back at him, his eyes burning with tears, then turned away. Poison placed an arm around him and rubbed his shoulder as they headed back into the hallway. Even Vaya and Vamos were silent.
With his free hand, Cherri picked up the dog tags that hung around his neck. The raised lettering glinted in the light. AGENT CHERRI COLA. He squeezed the tags, then leaned back against the wall. Poison and Kobra’s voices murmured in the hallway, too low to be heard. Somewhere in the distance, an engine purred.
---
Cherri sat on the edge of the bed with his head bowed. Vaya had handcuffed him a few hours ago. He rubbed the sore red mark on his wrist where the handcuff cut into his skin. The light outside the window was greyish, with thin sunlight filtering through the curtains. Whenever the door opened, the smell of weak coffee floated in from the hallway.
Suddenly the mattress creaked beside him. Cherri turned to see Kobra sitting beside him. His jaw bristled with stubble, and his eyes were reddish as if he hadn’t slept. He toyed absently with his transmitter in his lap.
“Well, they caught him,” he said finally. “The Red Hots got him a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah?” Cherri said sleepily. He ran a hand through his hair.
“Yeah. I think he was about done for, anyway. They said the poisoning was pretty bad. Even if he went back to the city, there’s not much they could do for him.”
Cherri nodded. After a period of silence, he cleared his throat. “Kid,” he said. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”
“Vamos said you wanted to leave,” he said.
“I am,” Cherri said. “They’re going to drive me back to Route Bearclaw to pick up my car. There’s a few supplies I need to get from my house. I need to pick up some food, get all my money out of storage.”
“Where are you going to go?” Kobra said.
“I know a few places,” Cherri said. “They’re in dead zones. Cut off from communication.”
“You can’t live like that, man,” Kobra said. “You know that.”
“The first Killjoys did it long before I did,” he said.
“You can’t be alone with yourself,” Kobra said. “I’ve tried it, man. I’ve tried isolating myself from the guys. It doesn’t help you. You just wither away.”
Cherri smiled sadly. “I think I’ve been withering away for a long time,” he said.
Kobra was silent for a few moments. The sunlight through the curtains cast a lacy pattern on the carpet.
“Look,” Kobra said. “I know this seems like the right thing to do, but--you can’t run from this. And I’m speaking from experience when I say this. You think that if you isolate yourself, you’ll be safe, that you can’t hurt anybody. But when you find yourself out in the middle of nowhere, with no friends, no communication, no connection to anybody--he’ll still be there, man. He’ll be waiting for you.”
Cherri shook his head. “I can’t put you in danger, Kid,” he said quietly. “The Vs intervened this time, but next time I could attack you. Or your brother. The pocketknives are right there on display, I could grab one and put it to Tom’s throat.”
“We’ll get you help,” Kobra said. “There are therapists out there that are trained to deal with this. Dr. D knows someone who used to work with former Soldiers. That organization fucked up a lot of people.”
“That’s not going to be enough,” Cherri said.
“You don’t know that until you’ve tried,” Kobra said. “Look, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been about repaying your debt to the Zones. But you can’t do that by sacrificing yourself. There’s still so much you can do out here.”
Cherri smiled weakly at him, then patted him on the shoulder. “All right,” he said. “I’ll think about it. Just give me a few minutes.”
Kobra nodded and stood up, then stepped out into the hallway. Cherri walked over to the window beside the bed. He pushed back the curtains, then folded his arms and stood in the sunlight. Joshua trees, grasses, and shrubs stood motionless on the empty plain. The sunlight seemed to wash over him, a warming presence, stripping away the sickly energy of the night before.