Chapter 16

Hep woke up in the best mood he'd been in for days. He felt good enough that he let Scroat sleep a little longer than usual before he smashed his hammer into a rock next to Scroat's head to wake him up.

"May your balls turn black and fall off, you troll-faced, mule-raping, puddle of fuck!" Scroat yelled.

"Sounds like you're feeling better too." Hep said. Most of the crew was stirring after Scroat's morning curse. Hep got a fire going, and starting making coffee. A couple of the UTMC guys ran into town and came back with bacon and other breakfast meats. They cooked up a big, greasy breakfast, and ate until they could barely move.

One of the UTMC crew, Too-Tall, asked Hep not to throw away the grease from cooking. Once it had cooled down, he took it and rubbed it into his denim jacket. Jim stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Water-proofing." Too-Tall explained.

"That works?" Jim asked.

"Sure! And the girls love it." Too-Tall laughed out loud.

"Yeah, love it when you take that rancid thing off." One of the others chimed in.

"Hey, I'm always willing to shed clothing for the ladies." Too-Tall said.

***
From Medina, they rode south to Berlin. There, Hep was delighted to see the World's Largest Amish Buggy.

"What's your fascination with "World's Largest" objects?" Charlie asked him.

"Well, you know, if you can't make it well, you can at least make it big." Hep said.

"What if you can't make it big?" Jim asked.

"Make it red." Hep answered.
***

From Berlin, they rode east to Pittsburgh.

***
Jeb was anxious. Seth demanded to see him in person, and so there he was. Of course, Jeb wasn't exactly sure where "there" was. Seth had demanded to see him, and suddenly he found himself in what seemed to be a cave. It was dark, and pointy, and claustrophobic, and Jeb was not happy to be there. This was entirely the intended effect. There were a couple of candles and torches strategically located to provide just enough light for any visitors to see that they were well and truly in deep shit if they were in that cave. Seth loved a good mind fuck.

Jeb cursed his luck, which was always, always bad. He wasn't sure how long he'd been waiting, but it felt like he'd been standing underground for a couple hours. He heard a shuffling sound to his left and looked, but couldn't see anything.

That's when he felt the hands around his neck.

"Jeb, I am not pleased." Seth said in a low, calm voice. "You had the advantage, and somehow you blew it entirely." He tightened his grip on Jeb's throat.

"Wait! Wait! I have information for you!" Jeb croaked. Seth loosened his grip slightly.

"I'm listening." He said.

"They had a group of eight others with them. I didn't recognize any of them, they're probably mortals, but they might make it harder to get to them." Jeb said.

"I was already aware of that. Hell, I was counting on it." Seth said. He tightened his grip again, "Was there anything else?"

"No... Erk!" Seth grabbed onto Jeb's head and jerked it roughly to one side, breaking his neck. Jeb crumpled to the floor. Seth crouched down and looked Jeb in the eyes.

"You will not disappoint me again." Seth said. He then stood up and walked away. Jeb heard his footsteps fading, and soon his vision faded and he heard nothing.
***
As the crew rode into Pittsburgh, Hep yelled to Scroat "There's something we gotta do while we're here. Follow me!"

Hep led them to Highland Park, where they dismounted. Most of the UTMC crew stayed by the bikes, stretching and smoking. Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Dave wandered into the park.

"There it is." Hep said, and started walking towards a bronze statue. When they got there, Hep stepped up to the statue and rubbed it's big toe.

"Ok, I'm good." Hep said and started to walk off.

"What the fuck was that about? Who's the incredible bronze man here? Anyone in particular, or do you just get off on touching bronze feet in eastern states, you sick, kinky bastard?" Scroat asked. Charlie and Dave also looked perplex.
"Well, if you'd read, you'd see that the statue is of Stephen Foster, America's first great songwriter. I rubbed the statue for luck. Since luck tends to pool at the base of statues, I rubbed his toe. As you can see, it's a popular spot to rub. You might consider it." Hep said, then he walked back to the bikes.

"You can't argue with logic like that," Charlie said, and rubbed the statue's toe.

"Sounds good to me too," Dave said, and gave the toe a quick rub.

"You guys are sick, and dumb, and superstitious, and god damn it I guess I'm going to have to rub his funky toe too." Scroat said. He rubbed the toe, then looked up at the statue's face.

"You'd better do good by us, or I'm going to come back here with an angle grinder and cut that fucking toe right off." Scroat said. He yelled to Hep "Where can I wash my damn hands? Feet aren't renowned for being clean, you know. And who knows what kind of sick fuckers touched that toe before us."

"None of them could have been any worse than you, buddy," Hep said.

***
From Pittsburgh they rode to York. They took a toll road most of the way there, and there wasn't much of interest. Hep would have liked to detour slightly to see a Coffee-pot shaped building in Bedford, but decided it would be best to just blast through to York, find a hotel and try and find out where the hell Tommy was.
***
They found the Modernaire Motel. It was a solid looking brick building, with white pillars, and glass brick panels. They all checked in, and dumped their stuff in their rooms.

Since it was still early, Hep, Scroat and Dave went out to see what there was to see in York, and to find a liquor store. Charlie and Jim stayed in the room. Jim had been doing his best to remain out of sight, since he didn't know how the UTMC guys would react to meeting a ghost.

After riding around for a little bit, Hep spotted a sign for a "Shoe House." He smirked, and started heading for the latest roadside oddity.

They arrived at the Shoe house, and Hep marveled at it's shoe-like splendor. Or lack thereof.

"What the fuck is the deal with everything being foot-related today?" Scroat asked.

"Yeah, do you have something you need to tell us, Hep? Or perhaps you just need some Tinactin?" Dave added.

Hep smiled at them. "Just coincidence I guess. Should we go in?" He started walking towards the door, and went inside. The interior was cramped, and stuffy, and the tour wasn't really particularly interesting. They learned about a shoe salesman who decided that a shoe-shaped house would be a great advertisement. Hep was a bit disappointed.

They found a liquor store, and stocked up on rum, beer, and a bottle of Ouzo.

"Finally." Hep said.

They got back to the hotel, and were warmly received. Well, at least the liquor was.

With the rest of the crew distracted by the copious amount of alcohol available, Hep got on the phone and called Elvis.

"Hey man, what do you know?" Hep asked.

"Hey Hep. Last I heard Tommy had stopped in Baltimore for about one night, then started heading south. I don't know where he is right now, though. I heard about your buddy Jeb, too. Apparently he was working for Seth, but didn't do a very good job." Elvis said.

"He never does."

"Yeah. Well, Seth got a bit frustrated and broke his neck."

"No shit? Man, seems a little harsh." Hep said.

"Yeah." Elvis said. He told Hep that the scooterists they'd thumped were rumored to be looking for them again. "Apparently they've got a grudge," Elvis told him. "I was sure to send a little misinformation for them. Right now they're headed for Maine, rather slowly." Elvis laughed.

"So does anyone know where we are right now?" Hep asked.

"Not that I know of, though you know Seth's got folks just about everywhere keeping their eyes peeled. They know you're heading for Baltimore, so you guys should keep your own eyes peeled for trouble."

"Yeah, thanks Elvis." Hep said.

"No problem," Elvis said, and hung up the phone.
***
Hep joined the party. He was mildly annoyed that someone had opened his Ouzo without even waiting for him, but he got over it pretty quickly after the seventh shot.

Soon they were all laughing as Scroat told them about their adventures in Wyoming.

"So we'd been drinking all night, and Jim comes in and tells us there's a penguin outside our door, and Hep goes 'We gotta get 'im.' And so we're all chasing this penguin down the hall and down the stairs. And then Hep's shaking the penguin and yelling 'who do you work for?' at it..." Scroat said.

"Hang on, who's Jim?" Too Tall said.

"Huh? Aw, you know Jim!" Scroat said.

"No, really, who's Jim?"

"Well he's been here the whole time," Scroat looked around the room. "Uh, Jim? Hey, where the hell are you? Jim!" Scroat called.

Jim faded in. "I was trying not to freak anyone out."

"Shit, Jim, these guys have seen weirder things than you. Have you been hiding this whole time? I thought that staying invisible was 'lot's of work,'" Scroat said.

"Yeah, well..."

"Everyone, this is Jim. He's kind of transparent, and get's off on hiding out and watching people. So you know, don't do anything you wouldn't want a ghost to see." Scroat laughed at himself and had another drink.

"A ghost huh? How'd you die, buddy?" Dave asked Jim.

"Well, I was in the redwoods and..." Jim looked at Hep. Hep shook his head no. "...and I got attacked by a pack of bears. Ripped me apart, you know."

"Damn! That's pretty hardcore!" Dave said.

"Yeah, well, at least it was pretty quick." Jim said, looking at his feet.

"And messy!" Scroat said. "Damn, there were still fucking Jim chunks all over the place when we found him. Of course, he's still pretty messy. Don't loan him one of your towels, if you catch my drift."

"Hey! That's..." Jim said.

"That's a good reminder that I need another drink." Scroat said, and got up. "Anyone else?" 9 hands holding empty bottles shot up in the air.

"Aw hell, get your own fucking drinks." Scroat said. A couple hours later, they were running low on booze and a couple of the UTMC guys left to try and find some more beer.

A couple hours after that, everyone noticed that J.J. and Brian hadn't come back yet.