Chapter 21

The scooterist woke up in a dark place. He felt around, and realized it was also a small place. It smelled like upholstery, petroleum and... donuts? There was a tiny bit of light coming in from two openings, one near his head, and one near his feet. He soon realized he was in the trunk of a car. He started pounding on the lid of the trunk, and calling for help.

Lucky for him, there was a hooker standing nearby who heard him. She didn't want to get involved, so she went into the motel and told the person at the front desk that someone was trapped in the trunk of a car in their lot. Then she split.

The desk attendant went out to the parking lot and soon heard the scooterists cries for help, between thumps coming from inside the car. He went over to the car and yelled "I've got some locksmith's tools inside, hang on a minute and I'll get you out!"

The scooterist calmed down a bit. After a few minutes the attendant came back and began fiddling with the lock for the trunk. To be honest, he did not have very much experience breaking into cars, and it took him quite a while to get the door unlatched.

When the lid was finally open, the scooterist climbed out of the trunk, and asked the attendant who the car belonged to.

"I don't know, sir. It doesn't belong to any of our guests."

The scooterist began to walk away, then he looked around a bit. "Where the fuck is my Vespa?" he yelled.

***

Hep and the rest of his now large posse were riding south west. Hep figured they could be in Mobile, Alabama by mid-afternoon, as long as they didn't get side tracked.

The ride to Alabama was dull, because they were on the freeway. Mile after mile of concrete was all they saw. They stopped in Montgomery for lunch. They ate at a place called Dreamland Barbeque, and ate as many ribs as they could cram into themselves.

In the parking lot, a man in a fedora and trench coat was sitting in a brown, late-model Lincoln Town Car, smoking and waiting.

***

That morning, the man in the hat left the other car, and swiped the scooterist's Vespa. He rode around Atlanta until he saw a car he liked, then used the strange key he'd been given to open the Lincoln, start it, and drive away. He wished he'd always had a key that was so handy. He could unlock and start any vehicle he wanted. He resolved to steal flashier cars once this was all over with. Maybe a Corvette, or a Lotus if he could find one.
The woman who had given him the key told him to follow a bunch of bikers, keep an eye on them, and report back to her every day on their activities. He was also supposed to keep his eyes peeled for anyone trying to interfere with them. If necessary, he was to step in and interfere with them. Which is how the red-shirt wound up in the trunk of his previous car.

He had to admit, it was a pretty sweet gig. He would swipe a car he liked, stay a few cars behind the bikers, and keep an eye on things. The lady had given even him a cell phone, so he didn't have to find quarters to use payphones or anything. So far, it was the best job he'd ever had.

***

Once the crew were finished eating, and had paid up, the went out to the parking lot. They were very surprised to see Jeb standing there across the street. He'd gotten some new clothes, but he looked awfully tired, and about ready to either loose his temper or start crying.

"Are you going to pay me the rest of the fucking money you owe me, or did you just miss us?" Scroat asked him.

"Jeb, what the hell are you doing here?" Hep asked.

"Damn, that son of a bitch is quick!" Dave commented to Too Tall.

Jeb started to cross the street towards them, when he got hit by a garbage truck. The truck didn't even have time to slow down. Hep and Scroat couldn't believe their eyes.

"Man, that guy has the worst luck," Hep said.

"Shit, he got off light. If he'd gotten over here without the money he owes me, and a damn good explanation for why he's been trying to screw us over and help Seth, I reckon he'd wish he'd stepped in front of a garbage truck instead," Scroat said.

Since Jeb had shown remarkable resilience to pain and dismemberment in the past, they decided it would be best to just get moving. Hep was rather annoyed by Jeb's appearance, because he'd wanted to stop and see Hank William's grave since they were in the area.

Soon they were back on the freeway headed for Mobile. They rode hard and fast, hoping to get a good head start on Jeb and any other goons Seth might have after them.

The man in the town car behind them had his work cut out for him trying to keep up. He usually tried to keep about 3 cars behind, but they were moving fast enough that it was all he could do to stay less than 10 cars behind. He decided to swipe a more nimble car in Mobile.

***

Jeb managed to peel himself off the truck, and convince the hysterical driver that he was really ok. The garbage man insisted the Jeb let him drive him to a hospital, but Jeb refused and walked away.

"How the hell am I going to explain the damage to the truck?" the garbage man yelled after him.

"I don't really care," Jeb replied, and kept walking. He had to try and catch up with Hep and Scroat again. Jeb didn't even want to think about what kind of pain Seth would inflict upon him if he messed up again.

***

The UTMCers needed to stop for gas as soon as they got into Mobile. Hep took the opportunity to go and use a pay phone that was mounted on the side of the gas station's garage. He put a couple coins in the phone, and tried to call Elvis. The phone rang twenty times before Hep gave up. He hung up the phone and turned to walk away, when suddenly the pay phone rang.

Hep turned back and looked at the phone suspiciously. It rang again. And again. He picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hep? Is that you?" Elvis asked.

"It sure is. Why the hell aren't you answering your phone?" Hep asked.

"Someone's listening to that line. I don't want anyone to hear what we talk about." Elvis replied.

"Well, how'd you know to call this phone back?" Hep asked.

"Caller ID, my man," Elvis replied. "So I hear Jeb managed to get himself hit by a truck."

"Jeez, Elvis, how'd you find that out? That was only a couple hours ago." Hep said.

"I've got my own people out there keeping an eye on the situation," Elvis said.

"Like Cesear?"

"Yep, like Cesear. Though most of my people are a little better at keeping themselves hidden."

"He is a little obvious, isn't he?" Hep said. He told Elvis that they probably weren't going to stay in Mobile, since it would be better to put as much distance between themselves and Jeb as possible.
Elvis asked where they were heading.

"West, young man," Hep said. Elvis told Hep that they should stay out of New Orleans.

"Why's that?" Hep asked.

"There is an unusually large number of unfriendly types hanging out there, as well as a few whose intentions aren't clear yet." Elvis told him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means stay the hell out of New Orleans. Damn Hep, are you getting stupid or something?" Elvis sounded a bit flustered.

"Are you ok, Elvis?" Hep asked.

"So far, so far," Elvis said. "Seth knows I've been helping you out, and he's been trying to put the frighteners on me. Of course, I've dealt with tougher bubbas than him. I'll be ok, I'm just trying to watch my step."

"No shit? Well, take care of yourself, Elvis," Hep said.

"I always do," Elvis said. "Bye."

Hep heard the phone click, and hung up the receiver. Scroat, Charlie and Dave were waiting nearby, watching him as he walked back.

"So what now?" Dave asked.

"On to Lafayette" Hep said. He walked back to his bike.

They rode west into Mississippi. They passed a gator farm, saw a sign advertising Confederate President Jeff Davis' home, and the World's Largest Rocking Chair. Hep would have liked to stop and check out the rocking chair, but they were in too much of a rush for sightseeing. Scroat, on the other hand, was relieved they were in such a rush so he didn't have to wait around for Hep to check out a big, dumb rocking chair.

***

If Aphrodite had know that Hep was stopping at every tourist trap he could, she wouldn't have been surprised. Hep had always enjoyed seeing other people's huge undertakings. Whenever a new gigantic statue was unveiled in Greece, he was always there, hiding among the crowd. Whenever a new, bigger than ever ship had been built, he had always had to go see it.

Hep was no stranger to gigantic projects himself. He had forged Achilles' shield and armor, after all. It was a pity about his heel, but the shield was truly a sight to behold. It had taken twenty huge bellows to get the fire hot enough, and Hep had sculpted scenes of heaven and earth, cities, fields and cattle on the front of the shield.

Really, when Achilles got killed in such a stupid way, Hep was a bit put out. An arrow to the heel? That was just embarrassing.

***

The man following them was getting annoyed with the Town Car. He'd planned to ditch it and find something else in Mobile, but there hadn't been time. Although the Town Car was plenty fast in a straight line, it turned like a cruise ship, which made darting through traffic next to impossible.

He hoped they'd stop before too long so he could spend some time finding a nice Corvette.

Chapter 20

Hep had been married once. To Aphrodite, no less. She fooled around a lot, and he once caught her and Ares mid-coitus. To be honest, he caught her that way many times, but this particular time he caught them in a net he had made out of tiny metal threads. He put them out on display for a while.

When he’d left Greece and Olympus to see the world and find out how other gods were getting on, he told her “So long, and have a good time.” That was the last time they saw each other.

She had indeed had a good time since he’d left. Unknown to Hep, she too went out and explored the world. Recently, she had settled in the United States as well. She wasn’t especially interested in seeing Hep again, however, so she stayed low-key.

At least, she stayed low-key for Aphrodite. She ran an upscale adult bookstore and voodoo shop in New Orleans. Business was brisk, as in addition to the usual dirty magazines, movies, devices and bongs, she also sold a variety of love and sex potions to tourists. The love potions didn’t work very well, but her sex potions were more effective than certain famous blue pills.
***
Jeb had somehow managed to free himself from the stalagmite that had impaled him, and he focused intently on healing himself. Soon enough it was impossible to tell he had ever been injured, except for the tears in his clothes.

He now knew how to get out of the cave, so he found the rope that would lead him out, and started walking along it. As he got out of the cave and into the open again, he heard a voice behind him.

“Leaving so soon?” Seth asked. “I had hoped you might do another job for me. A job that even you with your bad luck can’t mess up.”

***
Hep and the rest of the band of misfits checked into a motel in downtown Atlanta. It was so run down that none of them would have been surprised to find out that rooms were available by the hour. In fact, had they asked, the rooms were indeed available by the hour. The owners felt that theirs was a class establishment, however, and did not advertise that fact.

The rooms were clean, but worn looking. The beds had caved in the middle, and the furniture was threadbare and scratched.

“Well, you should feel right at home, Scroat,” Hep said.

“Hey, worn is comfy. At least, when I know it was my ass that did the wearing, and not some slumming businessman’s,” Scroat said. He looked at the brochure on top of the tv. “Hey look! Cheap pay-per-view porn!”

“Yeah, you enjoy that. I’m going to go see Atlanta.” Hep said.

“Later, pal. I’ve got a date with Dirty Debutants one through seven.” Scroat said.

Hep soon found himself riding through the Buckhead area of Atlanta. It was a neighborhood made just for him, with a gigantic bronze fish, two statues of Atlas, and a bizarre statue of a man with a buck’s head. By the time Hep had left the area his mood had improved significantly.

He stopped at the Landmark Diner. He looked around to see who was inside and was surprised to see a familiar face. He walked over to the table and said hello to a strange, bird-like man.

“Hello Hep.” The man said.

“Mind if I join you?” Hep asked.

“Ok.”

Hep examined his menu and decided to get a chili cheese hot dog. He’d been craving one for days. He put down his menu and looked at the man sitting across from him.

“So what’s your name, pal?” Hep asked.

“Cesear,” he said.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to properly meet you Cesear. So what are you doing here in Atlanta?” Hep asked.

“Meeting Elvis.”

“Oh really? What’s he doing out this way?” Hep asked.

“Not important.” Cesear said.

“Uh huh. Ok, then. So what are you having to eat?” Hep asked.

“Cesear Salad.” Cesear said.

“Right. I should have known,” Hep said. He stopped trying to make conversation then. The waiter brought their food out soon, and they ate in silence. Hep didn’t mind, and he wanted to be sure and enjoy every last bite of his chili cheese hot dog. After he ate, he paid his share of the check and tipped an imaginary hat to Cesear.

“See ya round, Cesear.” Hep said.

“Have a good day,” Cesear said.

Hep rode back to the motel. He didn’t notice the low-slung, black car following him. He pulled into the motel’s parking lot, shut off his bike and went inside. The car following him drove around the block twice, and then parked in the motel’s lot where the driver had a good view of all the bikes.

The driver cracked his window open and lit a cigarette. He also had a supply of coffee and donuts. He didn’t actually like donuts much, but people on stakeouts on tv always had donuts in their car, so he figured he’d better get some.

He waited, and watched.
***
Tommy was in New Orleans, and he drove past Aphrodite’s Voodoo Shop and Adult Emporium. On a whim, he pulled in and went into the shop. He wasn’t expecting to actually meet Aphrodite.

He went through the front door, down a hallway, and through a heavy beaded curtain to enter the store. It smelled strongly of incense inside.

“Hi there, looking for anything special?” the woman behind the counter asked him.

“No, just looking,” Tommy said, and smiled at her. He looked away for a moment, then looked back at her. “Say, are you Aphrodite?”

The woman behind the counter smiled. “Why, yes I am, and this is my humble shop.”

“No, I mean, are you the Aphrodite?” Tommy asked.

Her smile faltered a bit, “Well, whatever do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, I’m Tommy, and I’m an old friend of Hep’s. I thought you might be his wife, Aphrodite.” Tommy said.

Aphrodite was no longer smiling. “What do you want?” she asked.

“Nothing, nothing. Just a coincidence. So, I don’t know if you know this, but he’s on the run from Seth right now. Actually, I am too. Hep’s trying to catch up to me, but he’s not quite as quick as I am. Probably because he’s dragging that shithead Scroat along with him.” Tommy said.

“Seth is after him? Why? Hep was never one to go looking for trouble.” Aphrodite said.

“Well, that’s kind of my fault. I left something at Hep’s place, and he’s just trying to return it to me.” Tommy said. “Well, I’d better go. Nice to meet you!” Tommy walked back through the curtain.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Aphrodite yelled, but Tommy was already outside. She ran after him, but by the time she got outside he had already pulled his car into traffic.

“What the fuck was that?” she said to herself.
***
Outside the motel, the man in the car lit another cigarette, and coughed. He didn’t really smoke but, dammit, the detectives on tv and in the movies smoked, so he was going to as well. He became annoyed as the fedora he was wearing caught the smoke and directed it into his eyes.

“TV detectives must be fucking tough,” he thought to himself.

He sat forward as one of the UTMC crew came outside and began tinkering with his bike. He sat back, as it didn’t look like anything important was going on. A little later, the biker went back inside.

He heard a buzzing sound outside. Soon, an old vespa pulled into the parking lot. The rider was wearing a red shirt. The scooterist stopped right by all the bikes.

“Oh no you don’t” the man in the car said to himself. He got out of his car and pulled at pistol out of his trench coat. The scooterist just had time to look over and see the man level his pistol and shoot.

The tranquilizer dart hit him in the leg. He just had time to pluck the dart out of his leg and put his side stand down before he collapsed.

The man from the car grabbed the scooterist, dragged him over to the car and threw him in the trunk. He slammed the lid of the trunk shut, then he went and hid the scooter back by the motel’s dumpster.

Then he got back into the car, lit a new cigarette and had some coffee.

Inside the motel, Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Dave were playing cards. Jim was in with the rest of the UTMC crew, listening to them tell stories about past adventures and laughing along. Minerva and Athena were sleeping. Eventually the rest of them turned in for the night. Jim, as usual, drifted around the hotel. There were a lot of interesting things for him to watch in this particular hotel.

The man outside, meanwhile, tried to resist fidgeting and eventually started listening to Christian Talk Radio to fend off boredom. He didn’t know why there was a children’s radio program on 3:00 a.m., but he had to laugh when the runaway child who decided he didn’t need God bumped into the kindly Irish beat cop who knew more scripture than most priests.

The night otherwise passed uneventfully, though the man in the car could have sworn he saw a local politician leaving the hotel just ahead of a scantily clad lady of the night. He wished he’d remembered to bring a camera. TV detectives had them, how could he have forgotten? Oh well, the politician wasn’t who he was interested in right now.

He lit another cigarette and slumped back against the seat. He began to get a bit drowsy, but perked up again when he remembered what happens to people who fall asleep while smoking.

Eventually the sun came up, and he was shocked to hear someone yell “You turd-biting son of a leperous goat whore!” from inside the hotel. So far, it was the most interesting thing that had happened since he’d stashed the scooterist in his trunk.

Soon after, one of the UTMCers came outside and started strapping things to his bike. The man in the car got out, tossed his cigarette on the ground, crushed it under his heel, and walked off.