Buddy Holly is Alive and Well on Ganymede by Bradley Denton (love books to read txt) đ
- Author: Bradley Denton
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The stones stopped, and I stood up beside Pete and Gretchen. Shielding my eyes from the welding-torch-bright light, I watched as Boog, bloodied but still grinning, shoved his way out of the crowd and leaned on the Barracudaâs fender. The other members of his gang, minus their vehicles, began struggling toward us as well.
âBRING ONLY THE FOUR ON THE AUTOMOBILE. THE OTHERS ARE PUPPETS. THROW THEM OUT WITHOUT THEIR SHOES.â
Boogâs friends were seized by a multitude of Willyites and dragged away. Boog started forward as if to rescue all fourteen of them, but as he did, eight men in brown suits appeared before us. Four of them held wrist-braced, rubber-surgical-tubing-powered metal slingshots loaded with ball bearings the size of marbles. The ministers were pointing them at our heads.
I jumped down and grasped Boogâs arm. âIf you make a move, theyâll nail us. And Iâm the only one with a helmet.â
Boog stopped, but his massive body remained tense. âTell me again why you wanted to get here,â he said.
âBRING THEM TO THE SNACK BAR,â Bill Willy commanded.
âOh, yeah,â Boog said. â âWhy did the Antichrist cross Oklahoma?â âTo get to the snack bar.â â
They took us out of the light and marched us through the mob to the center of the lot, where the Reverend waited atop a cement-block building. A truck with a cherry picker sat nearby, but our captors lifted us by hand to fellow ministers who hauled us up and threw us onto the tar-and-gravel roof as if we were tuna.
I was the last one. The gravel bit into my bare hands, and energy thrummed into my palms as if I were touching an electric fence. I was almost where I was supposed to be.
When I raised my head, I saw the life-size version of William Willard standing on a platform and looking upon me with contempt. My contact-weary eyes hadnât recovered from the searchlight, so I saw him bathed in a greenish aura.
âSO THIS IS THE MAN WHO CLAIMED HE COULD SAVE THE WORLD,â Bill Willy said.
I rose to my knees. âNo. Buddy read a sign that said to contact me for assistance, but I didnât have anything to do with that. Besides, that only meant assistance for him.â
Pete was on his knees beside me. âHow do you know?â
It occurred to me that I didnât.
âYour Reverendness,â Gretchen called out, âI agree that this schmuckââshe indicated meââcouldnât save his way out of a wet paper bag. But he doesnât pretend to be able to, either.â She and Boog were both kneeling as well, and a Corps minister stood behind each of us. I didnât like it. In the movies, the gangsters make you kneel like that when theyâre going to open up the back of your head.
Bill Willy laughed. âHERE THEY ARE, FLAPPING THEIR FORKED TONGUES, SHOUTING THAT THEIR LEADER HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS INVASION OF OUR WAY OF LIFE! OF COURSE YOU DIDNâT, SATAN. YOUâRE AS INNOCENT AS A BABYâS BEHIND. WE BELIEVE HIM, DONâT WE, GOOD PEOPLE?â
The crowd screamed, âNo!â
âShit heel Mickey Mouse!â Boog bellowed. âYâfuckinâ morons! Itâs only television!â
âMORE THAN THIRTY YEARS AGO,â the Reverend continued, âI WARNED THE PEOPLE OF THIS NATION ABOUT THE DEMON EMBODIED IN ROCK AND ROLL. âBUDDY HOLLY AND HIS ILK SING MUSIC TO STEAL HUBCAPS BY,â I TOLD THEM. BUT THEY WOULDNâT LISTEN, AND NOW THE DEMON HAS INVADED EVERY TELEVISION SET IN THIS WORLD SO THAT NO ONE CAN ESCAPE IT! IT CONTAMINATES OUR LIVES, SCREECHING ITS DARK HYMNS OF DEGRADATIONââ
A red mist replaced his aura, and I recognized him. His was the face of the pastor from 1967, the one that Mrs. Stummert had dragged me to when I had sung âSergeant Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ in Vacation Bible School. His was the face of the pastor who had called me a piece of dogshit and put his hands on meâŠ.
I lurched up from my knees and stumbled toward him. âYou donât talk about my life like that, fat butt!â
I was within four feet of the platform when I was knocked down from behind and kicked onto my back. A minister stood over me with his legs spread in a macho stance on either side of my feet. His slingshot was aimed at my crotch.
âAND NOW HE REVEALS HIS TRUE NATURE!â the Reverend said triumphantly. âA SNARLING, WEAK-KNEED SERVANT OF EVIL!â
âSoâs your mother!â I cried, and scissored my legs. My heels hit the macho minister in the ankles, and he fell on his ass. The slingshotâs aim was ruined, and its ball bearing smashed one of the floodlights shining on Bill Willy. The crowd shrieked like banshees, and the Corps ministers on the roof were distracted.
Pete tripped his guard as the man came to assist the one I had toppled, and Boog grasped his own ministerâs lapels and flung him off the building. Gretchen grabbed her guardâs slingshot tubing and whirled him from the roof as well. Boog threw mine after Gretchenâs.
Peteâs minister was still down, but as I stood, he managed to ready his slingshot and point it at me. Other Little Davids emerged from behind the lights and equipment and stood in a semicircle, all aiming at me.
I have no innate courage, but whatever had drawn me to that place had damped my usual cowardice, and I saw what would happen if the Corps let fly. I spread my arms wide. âFine! Drill me full of steel! Meanwhile, my friends can take bets on how many shotsâll hit the Reverend!â
That gave them pause, and I took advantage of the moment by leaping onto the platform and putting my arm around Willardâs shoulders. He tried to twist away, but I held him tight and faced the bizarre image of my helmeted self hugging him on the movie screen.
The crowd, enraged and screaming, began to flow up the sides of the snack bar.
âMake them stay down,â I said into the Reverendâs ear, âor Iâll do something perverted to make your ministers shoot, and weâll both be Swiss cheese.â
The Reverend gave me a malevolent glare and spoke into his microphone. âREMAIN WHERE YOU ARE, BROTHERS AND SISTERS! THIS CREATURE CANNOT HURT ME.â
The crowd melted back to ground level, and the ministers on the roof froze.
I tightened my grip. âNow tell the Corps that if they hurt my friends, Iâll put my fingers through your eyes into your brain.â I was pretty sure that I couldnât really do that, but it sounded John Wayneish.
âNEITHER CAN HIS MINIONS. LET THEM BE.â
Boog, Gretchen, and Pete stepped past the ministers and joined me and the Reverend on the platform.
âWhat now, yorkface?â Gretchen asked.
âBeats me,â I said. âIâm just following a cosmic impulse, and it hasnât told me what to do next. Except to ask the Reverend to order his boys off the roof and out of the building. This snack bar is mine.â
Bill Willy covered his microphone. âAll right. But if anything happens to me, all these people are gonna chew you up and spit you out on the fucking dirt.â
âHey, he can talk like a normal person,â Boog said.
The Reverend took his hand from the mike. âBROTHERS, LEAVE THE ROOF. EVERYONE INSIDE PLEASE EXIT, I WILL DEAL WITH THESE DEMONS.â
The Corps ministers were reluctant, but they and the technicians climbed down to the mob. When they were gone, I handed Willard to Boog, removed my helmet, and spoke into the microphone.
âI need to get inside,â I said. My voice didnât boom the way Bill Willyâs did, and on the movie screen, my eyes looked uncertain. âAt least, I think I do. So I want that cherry picker to take us down, and I want everyone to back away at least fifty feet. If you donât clear the space, or if anyone attacks us, then whatever happens to the Reverend will be on your heads. Iâm serious.â
âSpoken with all of the authority of Barney Fife,â Gretchen said.
The crowd, muttering darkly, began to back away. The air vibrated with engine noise, and the cherry picker rose and swung toward us. The basket set down beside the platform, and then I saw the flaw in my plan. We couldnât all squeeze into the basket with our hostage, but if we didnât, whoever was left behind might take a ball bearing in the skull.
âAnybody have any suggestions?â I asked.
Pete pointed south and yelled, âHit the deck!â
The engine noise had not come from the cherry picker alone. Flashing wingtip and belly strobes were bearing down on the snack bar from an altitude of less than a hundred feet. A red-and-white fuselage flashed through the searchlights; we flattened; and the plane cleared the roof by three yards. It was a V-tailed Beechcraft Bonanza.
As it flew past the theaterâs north fence, it went into a climbing turn and almost clipped the oil refinery tower. Then it swung to the east and dove to buzz us again. This time, a window popped from the starboard side and fluttered down to the crowd like a scrap of cellophane. A massive, pointy-eared head poked out of the hole, and there was no mistaking its identity: Ringo.
The Bonanza had to pull up sharply to avoid flying through the movie screen, and the Willyites went into a thrashing panic.
Pete shook his fist at the sky. âThose rotten kids! Laura doesnât even have her license yet!â
I stood, holding my helmet strap in my left hand, and spoke into the microphone. âFolks, weâre coming down in two groups. The first will consist of the Reverend and this guy.â I nodded at Boog. âTheyâll enter the snack bar, and if anything untoward happens while weâre waiting for the basket to return, the Reverend will be made into Bill Willy burgers. In addition, our friendsââI looked up at the circling Bonanzaââwill strafe you with an Uzi.â I lowered the mike to Willard. âKill the searchlights, Reverend, I donât want your boys testing the range of their slingshots on the airplane.â
He complied. âWE HAVE NO FURTHER NEED OF OUR SIGNALS OF FAITH, BROTHERS. THE LORD HAS SEEN OUR LIGHT.â A few seconds later the searchlights went off.
Boog pulled Bill Willy to his feet, and they entered the basket, which rose a few inches and moved toward the edge of the roof. Pete and Gretchen stood as well, and Gretchen looked at me with something almost like respect in her eyes.
Pete was watching the Bonanza. âYou two are in big trouble!â he shouted. âYouâre grounded for a week!â
âBut they saved our tails,â I said.
Gretchen groaned. âGuess again.â
Twenty feet away, at the south end of the roof, stood the Bald Avenger. He took a pistol from his jacket and walked toward us, his face rigid with determination.
In the cherry-picker basket, Boog put his hands on the Reverendâs throat, and Bill Willy waved his arms at the Avenger. âNo, brother! If you harm them, this creature will harm me!â
The Avenger ignored him. As he walked, he aimed his pistol at the floodlights illuminating the roof and shot them out one by one. I began to feel the February chill.
The crowd moved toward the building again.
Boog released the Reverend and vaulted back to the roof. Willard leaped from the basket as well, knocking over the video camera in front of the platform. The movie screen went black, and Bill Willy scrambled off the roof into the arms of his followers.
With the screen dark, I, my friends, and the Avenger stood on an electric island in a sea of shadowed flesh. The Avenger shot out the last
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