Holy Rollers

2006-12-01T19:34:00.000-08:00

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33 - New & THE END!!

Chapter 33

2006-11-27T21:30:00.000-08:00

That night, Hep and Aphrodite had sex for the first time in several hundred years. Unsurprisingly, it was incredibly loud, vigorous, and sweaty, as it can only be between two gods who had once been married, and then separated for an age, one of whom is a goddess of sex.

Fortunately for Hep and Aphrodite, none of the rest of the crew were in adjoining rooms. Well, to be honest, it was probably better for the rest of the crew than Hep and Aphrodite. They weren't too worried about the noise, though the salesman in the room on their right and the wholesome family from Utah on their left were thoroughly scandalized and titillated.

Jim had been making the rounds of the motel, but wisely elected not to enter Hep's room when he heard the commotion inside.

The next morning, Hep and Aphrodite emerged from their room, flushed and a little dazed, and went down to meet everyone else and decide where they were going to get breakfast. Scroat could swear that Hep had a spring in his step, which was unusual since Hep had a pronounced limp normally.

They determined that a Perkins would be their best bet for breakfast, and went back to their rooms to gather their belongings. Half an hour later they were all down by the bikes again, ready to go.

They roared out of the parking lot, destined for the pancakes and omelets of victorious heroes. Scroat rode in Hep's side car ("No way in hell am I riding bitch again," he'd said). Charlie rode with Aphrodite in the Corvette.

They filled up most of the restaurant's smoking section, talking, laughing and smoking. Eventually their food came, and they dug in it with a passion. Minutes later they were smoking and talking again, drinking plenty of coffee.

They decided that after they'd paid up, they would ride to the Twin Cities and find Scroat and Charlie a couple of new bikes.

The ride to Minneapolis was uneventful, though every one was in high spirits, and they rode quite expeditiously. In Minneapolis, they spotted a dealership that sold both Ducati and Triumph motorcycles.

"I think we've found our place," Hep yelled to Scroat.

"Damn straight!" Scroat answered.

After a quick stop at a couple banks for cash, they went to the motorcycle shop.

Within seconds of entering the dealership, Scroat spotted his bike. It was a black Triumph Thruxton 900. Low-slung, and very, very black, Scroat grinned from ear to ear the second he sat on it.

"Oh. Hell. Yeah." Scroat said. He began haggling with the salesman immediately.

Hep, Dave and Too Tall wandered around the dealership. Minerva and Athena sat outside.

"Hey, where the hell are Charlie and Aphrodite?" Hep asked Dave.

Dave shrugged in reply. "Haven't see them since we got here."

Hep looked out the window, and saw Charlie sitting in the Corvette, apparently alone. Hep made a "get in here" gesture, and Charlie waved back, smiling.

Hep went back to looking at the bikes. They were pretty, but he thought his was better. Scroat was counting out the cash for the bike, in front of a slightly bewildered salesman.

Charlie and Aphrodite finally came into the dealership. Charlie was all smiles.

"All right, time to find a new Duc," Charlie said to Hep, rubbing his hands together. He wandered through bikes, and stopped when he saw a yellow SportClassic Sport1000. It looked like a motorized wasp. Charlie clapped his hands over his head.

"Hey! Who's going to sell me this fucking bike?" he called.

An hour later and they were ready to head home.

Out in the parking lot, Hep said goodbye to Aphrodite again.

"Come and visit anytime," she said, and got into her Corvette. She beeped the horn twice as she drove away.

"So what now, Hep?" Dave asked him.

"Well, I've got a date with a giant twine ball, and then I guess it'll be time to head home." Hep said. Scroat and Charlie decided to ride along with Hep, but Dave and Too Tall were itching to get back to Denver, so they left on their own.

Minerva and Athena decided to head home too. "We've got a couple of organs to finish, after all," Minerva said.

"See ya round, Hep," Athena said, and they rode away.

Hep looked at Scroat, Charlie and Jim. "Well, let's get moving," he said.

They rode to Darwin. The weather was perfect, there were puffy clouds and plenty of sun. They were a little tired of riding through farmland, but Hep was too excited to see the world's biggest ball of twine to be concerned about such things.

They arrived in Darwin just before 5:00. They parked their bikes and walked up to the pagoda housing the monumental oddity.

"That is one big fucking ball of twine," Scroat said.

"Yep," Hep said, and grinned.

"Well, that was pretty fun. What do you say we get some fucking dinner?" Scroat asked.

"Sounds good to me," Hep said. They walked over to the nearby Twine Ball Inn. It was clean, but somewhat run down inside. The staff eyed them warily, and one of the waitresses finally showed them to a table.

They had a decent, Minnesotan dinner of meat and potatoes. They didn't linger, because Scroat and Charlie were both itching to get out and play with their new bikes some more.

They went out to their bikes, and started them up. As they were putting on their helmets, Scroat asked Hep "So now what?"

"Let's go home," Hep said.

"Sounds good to me," Scroat said.

They rode south.

***

After a series of blunders - including falling into an uncovered manhole, getting hit by a pizza delivery man, a school bus, and a very surprised robin - Jeb finally found Seth.

Seth was giggling madly, and greeted Jeb by asking "Have you heard of the nomadic tree? Apparently now and then it just packs up its' trunk and leaves."

Then he burst out laughing, nearly convulsing with the apparent hilarity of his comment.

Jeb didn't quite know what to make of that, but he untied Seth, who walked away from him still laughing and entirely uninterested in Jeb.

Jeb debated helping Seth, and decided discretion is the better part of valor, and the better part of discretion is knowing when to split.

***

Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Jim found a quiet place to camp for the night just across the border of Nebraska.

That night they were awakened by the sound of a single two-stroke motor. Hep walked over to the scooterist, and saw that he was carrying several cameras. It took Hep a minute to realize that he'd seen him before. The last time, though, he'd been wearing a red shirt.

"Hey man, what club were those guys who helped you with?" he asked Hep.

"They're the UTMC," Hep answered.

"Any idea how I could become a member?"

"Man, they don't have any members," Hep said, and laughed. "Go down to Denver if you want, though. They're a good bunch of guys."

Hep went back to the spot where he'd been sleeping, and the scooterist rode off.

***

The next morning, Hep woke up and saw that Scroat was already up, fiddling with his new bike.

"Damn, Scroat, obsess much?" Hep asked.

"Aw, fuck you. You're just jealous," Scroat said.

Eventually Charlie got up and once they were packed up they rode on to Aspen. When they arrived at Charlie's house, he invited them in for dinner and to stay the night.

Once again, they cooked meat over the fire pit in Charlie's back yard, and got roaring drunk on rum. They spent a good while dizzily throwing axes at a tree stump Charlie had on the far end of his yard. They mostly missed.

Late, late that night they turned in, and slept deeply.

The next morning they woke up to the sound of someone pounding on Charlie's door. Charlie got up, and stumbled to the front door, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

He opened the door, and was very surprised by who was standing there.

"Hey Charlie, how have you been?" Elvis said.

"Pretty good, Elvis. Come in, come in," Charlie said. He led Elvis in, and then wandered into the kitchen to make some coffee. Once the pot was percolating nicely, he moved to the kitchen table, where Elvis was already sitting. Soon Hep and Scroat joined them. Jim was outside exploring Charlie land.

"Howdy gentlemen," Elvis said. "The word on the street is that you've saved the world, again."

"So it would seem," Hep said. "What brings you out this way?"

"Well, I just couldn't wait to see you guys in person and hear the news from your own mouths," Elvis said and grinned. "You done good, fellas."

"Aww, it was nothing," Hep said.

"Yeah, nothing," Scroat said sarcastically. "Easy to say for the guy who didn't get killed this time around."

They had coffee, and shared some of the funnier moments of their trip with Elvis. They all laughed heartily about the time Jeb threw a giant hot dog at them, as well as their adventure chasing a penguin through a hotel in Wyoming, only to get thrown out.

Elvis told them that he'd heard Seth was sent back to the Upper Realms of Ra.

"Being the voice of thunder can't be so bad," Hep said.

"I don't know. You ever heard of a thunder bucket?" Scroat asked, and laughed.

"What happened to Jeb?" Charlie asked.

"Well, I don't rightly know," Elvis said. "I'm sure he'll turn up, though."

"Yeah, and that fucker still owes me money," Scroat said.

Once they were a little more awake, Charlie made a huge breakfast for them, and they ate until they could barely move.

"I don't think I even need to see any more biscuits and gravy for a long time," Elvis said as he sat back and pushed his plate away from him.

Scroat belched in agreement.

"Thanks Scroat, I'll take that as a compliment," Charlie said.

Charlie came inside. "Man, you've got a lot of land out here," he said to Charlie.

"Yep. It's good to be a god, here in god's country," Charlie said, and laughed.

After a while, Hep and Scroat began packing again, getting ready for the last stretch of road before they got home. As they loaded up their bikes, Charlie, Elvis and Jim stood nearby shooting the breeze. Charlie showed off his new bike to Elvis, who was duly impressed.

"Always loved that Italian styling. I should tell you about my Pantera sometime, I've got some great photos," Elvis said.

Soon, Hep and Scroat were ready to roll out. They went over and shook hands with Charlie and Elvis, and started walking back to their bikes. Jim drifted along behind them.

"Say Jim," Elvis said, "how'd you like to come back to Portland with me?"

"Really? You mean it?" Jim said

"Sure, I can use a fella with your talents," Elvis said. "You'd make a fine fly on the wall, I think. That is, if you're up for some more adventure."

"Sure! That'd be great!" Jim said.

Hep and Scroat glanced at each other.

"Well, good luck Jim. Stop in and visit sometime," Hep said.

"Only don't leave any shit behind so we have to chase you down and give it back. That's just a dick move, got it?" Scroat added.

"Yeah, I got it. Bye guys. See you around." Jim said.

Hep and Scroat fired up their bikes and got moving. Soon they were headed southwest towards the deserts of Arizona, and their home outside of Tucson.

On their way home, they cut through New Mexico. Hep wanted to see Roswell. He was a bit disappointed, since the vibe of the town was more "poor" than "otherworldly."

They also stopped at an odd surplus shop that was half cold-war museum and half appliance boneyard.

Eventually they got into Arizona. It was dark and the rode through the desert was cold. They were eager to get home, and rode fast and hard to get there.

They finally got to their house, and pulled their bikes into the garage. They stumbled through their house, and both fell asleep within seconds of falling into their own beds.

That night, Hep dreamt of Tommy. He and Scroat were hanging out on the patio at a nice bar, drinking fine tequila with beer chasers. Tommy came up to the table.

"Hey, guys, how you been?" Tommy asked.

"Not too bad, not too bad," Hep said, and took a pull from his glass of beer.

"Glad to hear it," Tommy said, "So..."

Hep interrupted him, "Hey Scroat, wasn't there something you wanted to give Tommy?"

Tommy looked mildly confused.

"Oh yeah! Yeah, I got something fucking important to give you, pal," Scroat said. He stood up, directly in front of Tommy.

"I've been meaning to give you this since we left on that fucking trip," Scroat said, and hauled off and kicked Tommy as hard as he could straight in the balls.

Scroat smiled at Hep and sat down again.

"Damn, I feel a whole lot better now. Thanks Hep!" Scroat said.

"No problem," Hep said, smiling slightly.

Tommy laid on the ground, gasping for air. Eventually he stood up again, and left the bar, limping. "See you guys around," he muttered.

Hep and Scroat enjoyed the rest of their drinks, and then went back to their own dreams.

***

The next morning, Hep crept into Scroat's room, carrying his favorite hammer. He slammed it down next to Scroat's head.

"Who the fuck made you king shit of fuck mountain, you rotten bag of fuck?" Scroat yelled as he snapped awake.

"Yeah, it's good to be home," Hep said, and smiled again. He left the room and went into the kitchen to make coffee.

After he got the coffee going, he went to check their answering machine. He skipped through the multitude of automated telemarketer messages, and stopped when he got to a message from a familiar, masculine voice.

"Hey, Hep, it's Ellie! Man, have I got a great opportunity for you! I'm going to be down in that area sometime next week, I'll see you then!"

"Aw, shit." Hep said.

"Who was that?" Scroat asked.

"Ellie," Hep answered.

"Aw, fuck!" Scroat exclaimed.

And that, dear reader, is

THE MOTHERFUCKING END.

Chapter 32

2006-11-26T20:16:00.000-08:00

Hep and everyone else except Tommy checked into a motel in Brainerd. Most of them were hanging out in Hep's room, laughing about Seth. After a while, they settled down a bit, and got started on some serious beer consumption.

Jim said to Scroat, "What the hell, man? I thought you were dead."

"Dead? Fuck that bullshit! Just because I got killed doesn't mean I wound up dead! It just meant that I went back to Australia. I had to scramble to catch the first fucking plan back here, too. And I fucking hate flying. It used to be fun, but it's just too much of a pain in the ass these days.

"Also, I was stuck on a goddamn plan for twenty fucking hours. Seth got off easy tonight if you ask me." Scroat said.

"What about Seth? I thought he got blown to pieces," Jim said.

"And that wasn't even almost enough pain for that bastard. But I told you, just because we get killed doesn't mean we're dead. Seth probably woke up in a pyramid, molested a couple of anthropologists - the sick fucker - and flew back to finish what he started.

"You can slow us down a bit, but it's mighty fucking hard to make a god dead." Scroat said.

Jim still look puzzled.

"Remember what I said about asking questions your dumb little mind can't handle the answer to?" Charlie asked Jim.

"Fuck off," Jim said.

"Don't be like that! We still love you!" Charlie said, and laughed.

Hep and Aphrodite were off in a corner, getting reacquainted. It had been a long, long time since they'd seen each other, after all. They talked about the different places they'd gone, and gods that they'd met out there. They carefully avoided talking about their past together. Hep figured that several hundred years apart probably qualified as a divorce, somewhere.

He wasn't surprised to learn about her porn and voodoo shop in New Orleans. Hep figured that you have to stick with what you're good at, after all.

Eventually, they joined the rest of the party again. Hep got involved in a card game with Too Tall, Dave, Jim and Charlie. Athena and Minerva turned in early, so Aphrodite started talking to Scroat.

Not much longer after that, she and Scroat left the room. No one noticed, as they was pretty wrapped up in the game. Between hands, Dave asked in a general way where everyone had gone.

A couple of hours later, Scroat came back into the room, looking divinely happy.

"You look awfully cheerful there Scroat," Charlie said.

"Well, what can I say? It's been a good fucking day, and I'm glad to be alive," Scroat said, and gave Charlie a very toothy grin.

Eventually everyone went back to their own rooms, and Hep, Scroat and Jim were the only ones left in the room.

Hep turned to Scroat, "You know, if I find out you were fooling around with Aphrodite, I'm going to have to kill you."

"Easy there, big fella. Can't a guy be in a good mood?" Scroat asked, and smiled.

"Sure, but you look too happy. In fact, you haven't looked quite so happy since I told you we were going to Vegas." Hep said.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hep. Good night," Scroat said, and turned in.

"Good night," Hep said. Shortly after that, he went to sleep too.

***

"You shitty, horse faced mother fucker! What's your god damn problem?" Scroat yelled the next morning as Hep grinned and set his hammer down.

"Not a thing. All is right with the world," Hep said.

***

That night, the group headed over to Tommy's house for dinner. Tommy had spent the whole day getting ready and cooking. It seemed to him that, for once, things might actually work out the way he wanted.

He'd made prime rib, mashed potatoes, asparagus, bread rolls, black-eyed peas, wild rice soup and a wonderful assortment of other side dishes. Tommy had also dug out as many candles as he could find and put them out all over the house. He had enough candles going that he didn't even need to turn any lights on when it got dark out. That pleased him; it made the occasion feel more like the old days.

When they arrived, Tommy answered the door in his best suit, and asked them to come in and make themselves at home. He brought out a bottle of wine, and they toasted to the successful conclusion of their adventure. Once they had finished with the wine, they went in to the dining room, and he brought out dinner. Dave joked that they should say grace before eating.

They began to eat, and the food Tommy had prepared was wonderful. He kept them well supplied with wine, and they generally had a great time remembering some of the funnier moments of their trip.

Suddenly, in the middle of the meal, Jeb burst in the front door, brandishing a pump shotgun.

"Where is it?" Jeb yelled. "Give me that damn tobacco pouch!"

"It's right over there," Tommy said, and pointed at his coffee table. Jeb rushed over to grab it, and in his haste he tripped over his own feet. He landed on a side table that Tommy used as a bar, and knocked all the bottles to the floor. Most of them broke open, spilling liquor all over the floor.

"Dammit, Jeb! Why have you got to make a mess of my house?" Tommy yelled. "We're just having dinner here, get the fuck out!"

Jeb got to his feet again, and walked over the coffee table. He picked up Tommy's tobacco pouch and shook it at them.

He laughed a bit, and said "It's mine! Victory is mine!" Then he turned to leave, but slipped in a puddle of whiskey. He struggled to catch his balance, but tripped again and knocked over a large candleabra. The candles fell into the spreading lake of booze, which promptly caught fire. In seconds the entire room was ablaze.

Jeb managed to finally get his feet under him, and ran out the front door, still laughing and shaking the tobacco pouch.

"Holy shit! Everyone get out of the house!" Tommy yelled. They all ran out the back door, and went around the yard to the front of the house. The fire spread remarkably quickly, and within minutes, the entire house was engulfed in flame.

"Man, that guy really does spread bad luck," Charlie commented under his breath.

Tommy was stomping around yelling "I just don't believe this shit!"

One of the neighbors had called the fire department, but the house was gutted by the time they arrived. They put out the fire, and Tommy was left with a burnt out shell of a house.

"Damn. And I really liked that pouch too." Tommy said.

Jim asked Hep, "Don't we need to go catch Jeb?"

"Not unless Tommy needs help kicking his ass," Hep said.

"But wasn't the whole point of this trip to return Tommy's tobacco pouch?" Jeb asked.

"No, the point was to make sure that Tommy's could play out his own myth. The tobacco pouch was just a part of that. We returned it to Tommy, he invited us for dinner, it ended catastrophically, and now we're off the hook.

"Though, as I said, if Tommy wants help kicking Jeb's ass, I think most of us would be up for it." Hep said.

Tommy turned to them, " I can't believe that bastard had the gall to steal my favorite tobacco pouch, and set my house on fire. Seriously, someone needs to teach him some manners."

"Do you want to go find him and lump him up a bit?" Charlie asked. "It might be therapeutic."

"Nah, I'm too tired for that. I'd better figure out where I'm going to sleep tonight." Tommy said. "Thanks for coming over y'all. I hope you had a good time."

"Sure did, Tommy," Hep said. "You can come stay at the motel with us. I think there are some vacancies left,"

"Nah, I've had my eye on a place nearby. I'll just go set up house over there, it'll be like none of this ever happened." Tommy said.

"All right then. Have a good night Tommy," Hep said, and they left.

As they walked away, Jim looked at Hep repeatedly.

"What do you want to know, Jim?" Hep asked, tired.

"How can he be so mellow? His house just burned down, and he doesn't have a home now," Jim said.

"Tommy's used to it," Hep said.

"How's that?" Jim asked.

"Tommy's house burns down, or is otherwise destroyed four or five times a year. Sometimes more, if he's been particularly active. It's all part of his mythology. He can't really avoid it, but he knows enough to plan ahead for it now. He'll be as good as new tomorrow, just you wait and see. It'll be like tonight never happened, at least for him." Hep said.

"Yeah but..." Jim started.

"He's used to it, Jim. Right now he's probably already settled in at his new house. He's a wily old trickster, and he can handle this. Ok?"

"I guess," Jim said.

They all went back to the motel, and ordered several pizzas. Dave and Too Tall, of course, went to get beer. The pizza took an unusually long time getting there. When they called to find out where it was, they learned that the driver had hit some guy who'd been running down the middle of the road laughing and waving a little leather bag around.

Another driver was on their way with the pizzas.

Since they weren't going to starve, they relaxed and got started on the beer. Tonight was a night for celebration, after all. Their quest was over, now all that was left was wrapping things up and getting home somehow.

Scroat and Charlie were going to need new bikes, Hep remembered. He smiled. Tomorrow was going to be a fun day. They all liked going shopping for new bikes.

Chapter 31

2006-11-26T17:21:00.000-08:00

The next morning, Hep and the rest woke up early. The motel they were at had a crappy tray of cream cheese danishes and coffee that tasted like it was three weeks old. After a bite of Danish and a sip of coffee, they decided to forgo breakfast and just hit the road.

They rode north, avoiding major freeways as much as possible. The roads they took mainly took them through farmland and the outskirts of suburbs. They were annoyed with how slow all the drivers were.

"Doesn't anyone have a place to go?" Charlie yelled to Hep.

"I guess not," Hep answered.

Tommy said, "They're just making sure they aren't missing any opportunities to feel guilty and be nice to people. Give 'em a break!"

As they got further north, Hep remembered something about a twine ball in Darwin. Too bad it was out of the way; he resolved to stop and see it on his way home.

***

Ian had spent the entire night in the airport, waiting for whoever he was supposed to pick up. He'd had a lot of coffee, and was still having a hell of a time staying awake enough to watch.

Around seven in the morning he dozed off. About half an hour after that, someone shook him awake.

"Hey, aren't you that fucker Hep was being all mysterious with back in Denver?" Scroat asked him.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. What are you doing here at the airport? I thought you were still riding with Hep." Ian said.

"It's a long story," Scroat said. "So are you here to give me a ride, or what?"

"Yeah. We have to stop by a bank here quick and pick something up, then we'll head to Brainerd. I hope you don't mind riding bitch," Ian said.

"Of course I mind riding bitch. I guess, since these are extenuating circumstances, I'll let it slide this time," Scroat said. "What do we have to get at the bank?"

"Something Hep gave me," Ian said. "Let's go. I'm not parked too far away."

Five minutes after Ian and Scroat left, Seth emerged from the concourse, and waited by the curb outside to be picked up. Shortly, a car pulled up to the curb next to him, and he got in.

"Take me to Brainerd," he said.

***

Ian and Scroat waited in line at the airport. They looked rather out of place among all the well-dressed business men and women in their riding leathers. Ian finally got someone to help him, and they went into the safe to open the box.

The banker who led them into the vault waited just inside the door as Ian dug around in his jacket to find the key for the safe deposit box. Eventually he found it, and opened the small box he'd rented. He grabbed the parcel inside, and stuffed it into an inner pocket of his jacket.

Then he locked the box again and put it back.

"Thanks," he said to the banker as they left the vault.

Once outside, they rode north to Brainerd.

***

Hep and the rest reached Brainerd early in the afternoon. They dropped Tommy off at his house, and Charlie, Tommy, Minerva, Athena, Dave and Too Tall went inside. Hep told them he wanted to explore Brainerd a bit, until Ian arrived. Jim rode with Hep.

Hep and Jim rode around Brainerd, mainly silent. On the outskirts of town, Hep saw a giant Paul Bunyan statue. He rode up to it, and parked. Hep and Jim went up to the statue to check it out. It seemed no one was home in this statue, which put both of them at ease.

There was an old-timey red telephone next to Paul. "Talk to Paul!" a small sign read. Hep picked up the phone, and a comically deep voice slowly told him a horrible joke. Hep had no idea that Paul, in addition to being a folk hero, was also a punster.

"Was that worthwhile?" Jim asked him as he hung up the phone.

"Barely," Hep said, and grinned. "Think Ian's arrived yet?"

"Let's go find out," Jim said.

The walked back to the bike, and were quite surprised to see a shiny black Corvette parked next to their bikes, and a pretty blond lady leaning against it waiting for them.

"Hi Hep," Aphrodite said as he and Jim got closer. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Jim, he's been tagging along. What are you doing here Aphrodite?" Hep asked.

"I heard you and Scroat managed to get yourselves into a whole bunch of trouble. I thought you might need a hand." Aphrodite answered.

"Do you live up here?" Hep asked.

"Nope. I drove straight through from New Orleans. You wouldn't believe how quickly a trip like that passes in a car like this." Aphrodite said, and laughed.

"I can imagine. We're headed back to Tommy's, if you want to come with," Hep said.

Hep led the way back to Tommy's house. They parked, and went inside.

Tommy's house was neat, but worn. He had leather furniture that had been nice once, but was beginning to wear out. There were a couple of tears here and there in the leather where the stuffing was coming out. He had a huge stereo system that was probably twenty five years out of date. His carpet, once luxurious, was now worn out in spots, and there were several well-worn paths showing where Tommy normally walked. There was a lot of tasteless art on the walls, stuff that was a shadow and a wink away from being pornography.

"Who's this, Hep?" Too Tall asked, as Hep led Aphrodite inside.

"Aphrodite, of course," Hep said. "Everyone, Aphrodite; Aphrodite, everyone."

"Haven't seen you for a while," Athena said. "I thought you were still back in Greece."

"No, I've been here a while, living in New Orleans," Aphrodite said.

"How's Ares been?" Athena asked pointedly.

"I wouldn't know, the last time I saw him was just after I brained him with a rock during that thing with the Trojans," Aphrodite said sweetly.

***

Ian and Scroat were just twenty miles away from Brainerd when a nail lodged itself in Ian's rear tire. Though they hadn't seen the nail, they soon heard the tell-tall thumpita-thumpita of a flat tire. Ian eased the bike to the side of the road, and inspected the damage.

"Well, at least the nail is in the treads. I've got a patch kit, and a CO2 inflator, so we should be rolling again in no time," Ian said, as he pulled the nail out with a pair of pliers.

"Jeez, that's a nasty bastard," he said as he examined it. It was easily six inches long. He plugged the hole with his patch kit, and inflated his tire again.

"This should hold us until Brainerd, anyway," Ian said.

"Fuckin' a!" Scroat said. "Let's get moving."

They rolled out again. The tire held up fine, and they were at Tommy's house shortly.

Ian and Scroat were surprised to see Seth and Jeb standing next their car, waiting.

"Aw, fuck! Not you again!" Scroat said.

"Oh yes! Me, again!" Seth said, and laughed. "It's good to see you too, Scroat!"

Hep and Charlie burst out Tommy's front door. Dave and the rest followed close behind.

"How many times are we going to have to kill you until you piss off?" Charlie asked Seth.

"A few more, I'm afraid," Seth said, smiling. He drew a pistol from his jacket and pointed it at Dave and Too Tall. "Now then, Hep, I believe you have something that I want. Hand it over and I won't shoot your mortal friends."

"Well, I'd love to, but I don't have it," Hep said. "Now that I think about it, I wouldn't give it to you even if I did have it."

Seth cocked the hammer on his revolver. "I'm sure these two would want you to reconsider."

"Fuck that! I doubt you could hit either one of us anyway," Dave called.

"I'm quite sure that I can hit both of you, my friend," Seth said, and smiled at him.

While Seth's attention was focused on Dave and Too Tall, Aphrodite had picked up a rock from Tommy's yard.

"Oh, Seth!" she called. Seth turned to look, and she threw the rock at his head with all her might. It hit Seth just above his left eye, drawing blood.

"Fuck!" Seth exclaimed, and pulled the trigger on his pistol. The bullet completely missed Dave and Too Tall, though it did hit an unfortunate crow nearby. Dave and Too Tall looked at each other.

"Fuck," Dave said, relieved.

"Fuck," Too Tall agreed.

The crow, being a goddess of war, was dismayed and severely annoyed by this turn of events.

Charlie, Scroat, Ian and Athena took the opportunity to rush Seth. Charlie took a flying leap at Seth and tackled him. The revolver went off again, and hit Charlie's Ducati, shattering the plastic and doing untold damage to the finicky Italian innards of the bike.

"You fucking dick!" Charlie yelled, and drove his knee into Seth's gut. Scroat, Ian and Athena quickly moved in to tie up Seth. They had him hog-tied within a matter of seconds.

Charlie was walking around in circles, cursing so much that Scroat began to giggle with glee. "I can't believe you shot my fucking bike. You fucking assmuncher! I oughta rip off your balls and cram them down your fucking throat, except that'd be far too nice. Fuck!"

"Dammit Jeb, you and your bad fucking luck," Seth said.

"It's not Jeb's fucking fault, you're just dealing with superior fucking intellects here," Scroat said, and shoved a rag into Seth's mouth to gag him.

They left Seth laying on the grass. Charlie stayed nearby, keeping one eye on Jeb. "Don't do anything stupid, Jeb. I'm already way past blowing my cool."

Ian and Scroat walked back to where Tommy and Hep were standing.

"Here's that thing, Hep" Ian said, and dug the parcel out of his pocket.

"Thanks Ian," Hep said, and unwrapped Tommy's tobacco pouch. He turned to Tommy.

"I think you left this at my house, Tommy," Hep said, and held it out to Tommy.

Tommy took it, "Hey, thanks man, I've been missing this. Say, you guys should all come over for dinner. How about tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good, Tommy," Hep said. He turned to look at Seth. "What should we do with him?"

Jim spoke up. "I've got an idea," he said, and whispered to Hep.

Hep laughed out loud and said "Damn Jim, I like the way you think."

Jim smiled, and then clobbered Seth's head with a big rock.

***

When Seth came to, he heard a comically deep voice talking to him. He was bolt upright, and he couldn't move his arms or legs. He noticed there was something cold pressed against his ear, and the voice was coming from it.

"Hello? Who's this?" Seth asked.

"...and I said 'To termites, a group of dead trees is an arbor eat'um,' hyuck hyuck hyuck" the voice said.

Seth finally looked around enough to realize he was tied to a Paul Bunyan statue. And it was talking to him.

He bellowed in a rage, but he was far away from any houses, and all the Minnesotans were already asleep, so no one heard him.

Chapter 30

2006-11-25T16:27:00.000-08:00

Hep felt very strange all morning, since waking Scroat up with his hammer had become an important part of his morning routine after two hundred years. He contemplated trying to wake up Charlie, but then thought the ensuing fight might not be worth the brief entertainment.

Charlie, being a war god as well as a blacksmith, tended to be a little grouchy in the morning.

As it was, he started the coffee, and then took a shower. He wondered if the restaurant would have a decent continental breakfast for them. He hoped they'd have good bagels.

When he got out of the shower, Charlie was up, drinking coffee. "Good morning," he said to Hep.

"Morning. Sleep ok?" Hep asked.

"Well enough. You?"

"Yeah. Dreamt of home." Hep said.

"Me too. I hope we can get in and out of Minnesota in a hurry. That cold climate bugs the hell out of me. At least in Aspen when my balls get cold I can go work at my forge for a while." Charlie said.

Hep grunted. "Let's go find some grub," he said.

They walked next door (Charlie drifter) and knocked until Minerva answered the door in a terry cloth robe.

"Good morning. We're going to head down and see what they've got to eat at this place." Hep said.

"Ok, we'll be down in a while," Minerva said and closed the door again.

Hep and the other two then wandered over to the room Tommy, Dave and Too Tall were in. They knocked, and Dave answered the door. Dave and the others were already dressed.

"Good morning, want to get some breakfast?" Hep asked.

"Yep, let's go," Dave said. The six of them went down to the lobby/dining room and were pleased to find that this particular Super 8 had an unusually generous breakfast spread. Hep was mainly glad that they had decent bagels and coffee.

They had all finished eating and were drinking coffee when Athena and Minerva came down. They ate quickly, and added a lot of cream to their coffee so they could drink it in a hurry.

Once they were finished, they all returned to their rooms to get their things, and then they checked out and loaded up their bikes again.

"So how far is it to Mankato?" Charlie asked Hep.

"About five hours if we ride straight through," Hep said.

"Think we'll run into anything funny on the way?" Charlie asked.

"Probably not in Iowa. Who knows what might happen in Minnesota, though," Hep said.

"Think we'll bump into Thor or any of that crew in Minnesota?"

"Nah, last I heard he was living way, way north. And the rest of them have been keeping to themselves." Hep said.

They fired up their bikes, and started riding into Iowa.

Iowa was exceedingly dull to ride through. They passed a water tower that was painted as a smiley face, which brightened everyone's mood slightly. It would be hard not to feel a little cheerful seeing a smiley face that big, Hep thought.

When they hit Des Moines, they started heading north. Apart from many, many, many corn fields, there really wasn't anything interesting to look at until they got to Clear Lake, which was just shy of the Minnesota border.

"Want to stop and see where Buddy Holly's plane crashed?" Charlie asked Hep when they stopped to stretch.

"Nah. Those three weren't all that great. If they hadn't crashed, no one would even remember them," Hep said.

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" Charlie said.

"Well, what can I say?" Hep replied.

They continued north, and soon crossed the border into Minnesota.

Soon they saw some signs advertising the Spam museum nearby in Austin. If it weren't a detour, Hep would have liked to go. As it was, they kept riding until they got to Mankato. There, they stopped on the north side of town at a Happy Chef restaurant. There was a huge Happy Chef statue, smiling and holding a gigantic wooden spoon to one side of the restaurant. They parked on the other side of the lot from the statue, and walked into the restaurant keeping one eye on the statue until they were sure it wasn't going to try anything funny.

As it was, the statue was overjoyed to see them. Of course, being a happy chef, he was happy to see any one, but he was extra happy to see the seven of them (and their transparent friend). He hoped they'd stop by to chat before they left. He had so much he wanted to tell them!

Hep and the crew went into the Happy Chef. It was every bit a Minnesota family restaurant, with vinyl booths, as well as regular tables with cheap metal chairs, and table cloths under clear plastic.

"So what are we going to do from here?" Minerva asked.

"I think we should find a place to sleep and then head out for Brainerd tomorrow." Charlie said.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea to me," Hep said. There was a motel right next door, and he wanted to explore Mankato a bit, since he'd heard there was some other amusing things to see. He was particularly interested to see what he'd heard was the ugliest buffalo statue ever erected, placed there to memorialize something like thirty American Indians who had been hung on one day in Mankato.

It sounded like a pretty shitty memorial to Hep, and he was curious to see this ode to bad taste himself.

Their waitress came over to the table. She was a cute, chubby girl with candy-corn colored hair and black & white Doc Marten's oxfords. They ordered, and asked her to leave a pot of coffee at their table.

Soon enough, their food came and they ate. The food was decent, and they enjoyed their meal.

As they left, Hep said, "Well, I don't think the statue's going to attack us. What do you say we go over and check it out?"

"Sure, why not?" Charlie said. The group walked over. The Happy Chef was absolutely delighted! Special visitors!

The group got up to the statue and looked up. "That is one big, happy chef, all right," Tommy said. Hep noticed there was a push button and a speaker at the base of the statue.

He moved forward and pushed it.

A deep, and stupid-sounding voice said "Sometimes, you might notice that your water doesn't have any ice in it. That's because now and then the water gets hungry and eats the ice. Don't be alarmed, it is a perfectly natural occurrence."

The statue's heart sank. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say at all! What he'd wanted to say was "Look out! There's a bunch of red-shirted scooterists right behind you, and they look pissed!"

"That was retarded," Charlie said.

"Yeah," Hep said, and turned to walk back to the bikes. That's when they noticed the scooterists.

"Aw fuck," Tommy said.

Most of the scooter gang were carrying baseball bats and other club-like instruments.

"You bastards!" the apparent leader of the group yelled, and charged at them with a bat over his head, ready to swing. As he got close to Hep, he started to swing.

Hep ducked the bat easily, and punched the scooterist in the gut.

"Hooof!" the scooterist exclaimed, and dropped the bat as he hunched over clutching his stomach. Hep brought his elbow down on the back of the red shirts head, and laid him out on the parking lot.

The rest of the scooterists charged at the group. One ran at Charlie, who nailed him with a right hook to the jaw. The scooterist fell over backwards and didn't get up.

Athena, meanwhile, was in the middle of a group of scooterists, swinging wildly at anything nearby and whooping with joy. Soon most of that group was piled on the ground moaning.

One of the scooterists tried to sneak up behind Tommy, who was busily thrashing a scooterist who had been carrying a length of chain. Jim saw him, and popped up in front of him.

"Ooga Booga, motherfucker!" Jim yelled. The scooterist tripped over his own feet trying to get away, and bashed his head on the bumper of a pickup truck, knocking himself unconscious.

After a couple minutes, Hep's crew had laid out the entire gang.

"You guys just don't learn!" Hep said, then walked over to his bike. The rest followed him, and they roared out of the parking lot, headed north again. They eventually stopped in Savage for the night.

They found a crummy motel on the edge of town that had a parking lot that wrapped around the back, where they could park without their bikes being visible from the road.

"So much for staying low key, huh?" Hep said to Charlie.

"Yeah, I guess," Charlie answered. "Where the hell did those guys come from? I didn't even hear them pull in."

"I don't know," Hep said. "Good trick, though. Remind me to find one of them and ask how they did it some day."

"Sure thing," Charlie said, and grinned.

***
While Hep and the rest were riding to Minnesota, battling scooterists and talking to dumb statues, Ian had been busy finding a bank to rent a safe deposit box in. After he'd located one, he spent the rest of his time bumming around the Twin Cities, waiting to hear from Hep or one of the others.

That night, he got a call from Hep.

"Hey, Ian," Hep said. "Did you get that thing done for me?"

"Sure did," Ian said. "What's next?"

"I need you to go to the airport and pick someone up," Hep said. "Once you're done with that, come and meet us in Brainerd. Bring that thing I gave you."

"Ok. Who am I picking up?" Ian asked.

"You'll know when you see him," Hep said. "Have a good night."

"You too." Ian said. He hung up the phone and went to the Minneapolis airport. He parked his bike and found a comfy looking chair in the arrivals area to wait for who ever he was supposed to pick up.

Chapter 29

2006-11-25T14:36:00.000-08:00

When Frank got back to New Orleans, he didn't go and show off the beautiful Corvette to his buddies, as he'd planned. He had gotten rid of his fedora and trench coat, as well as the cigarettes.

He did keep himself well supplied with coffee, however.

After making a pit stop on the edge of town, his first order of business was to go and see Aphrodite.

"Hi there, sweetheart," Aphrodite said as he walked into her shop. "Why don't you come into the back with me?"

Frank nodded, and walked in to the store room with Aphrodite. It was a tiny room, there was barely space for the two of them and the small desk in there. The room smelled of strange spices and herbs, and there were a lot of dark jars with odd labels lining the shelves. There was also a stray dildo here and there, but Aphrodite kept most of that stock out on display in the shop.

"Now then, it sounds like you've had yourself a pretty spectacular adventure," Aphrodite said.

"Yes, I suppose you could call it that," Frank replied. He didn't really know what to make of his trip, except that it had gone from being the best job he'd ever had to some kind of bizarre, scary ordeal in the blink of an eye. He no longer wanted to be like the detectives on TV, that was for sure.

"Well, I'm sure you've got a lot of plans from here, so I don't want to keep you. Here's your paycheck," Aphrodite said, and handed him a brief case full of cash. At the beginning of the trip, Frank would have thought getting a briefcase full of cash money would be wonderful, but instead it just made him nervous and somewhat irritable.

"Thanks," he said.

"Now, there is one other small matter. The key, please," Aphrodite said, and held out here hand.

Frank was dismayed, and thought about saying something. In the end, he just dug the wonderful key out and handed it to her. No more easy, fast cars for him.

"Thanks, dear. Now you take care," she said, and shooed him out of the back room.

Once he'd gone, she got out a marker and a sheet of paper and made a sign reading "Closed Due to Family Emergency. Be Back Soon!" She hung the sign on the glass of the front door, and locked up the shop. Then she hopped into the Corvette that Frank had so considerately left on the curb and started driving North.
***
Hep, Tommy, Charlie, Jim, Minerva, Athena, Dave and Too Tall rode from Denver to Omaha, Nebraska. Their mood was somber, but also somewhat relieved because an end to this particular adventure was in sight.

As they passed through Ogallala, Nebraska, Jim saw a water tower painted to look like a UFO, complete with a little green man looking out a window at them. He nudged Hep, and pointed to it. Hep smiled a little, and kept riding.

He had no doubt that Scroat was pissed that he'd died like a chump, shot in the back as they walked away from their victory. He imagined that where ever he was, he was probably cursing up a storm. Two storms, if he got on a roll. Scroat was never one for inside thoughts. Hep couldn't help but smile again.

They passed through Hastings, the birthplace of Kool-Aid, but none of them really felt compelled to stop. Maybe if it was the birthplace of beer they would have.

Soon enough, they arrived in Omaha, and found a Super 8 motel to spend the night at. Dave, Tommy and Too Tall went to buy some food and beer, so they wouldn't have to leave the motel that night. None of them really felt up to finding a bar.

Hep, Charlie and Jim went to their room and dropped their stuff in there. Hep went to take a shower, and Charlie slumped into one of the chairs. Jim drifted over by him.

"How come I didn't see Scroat after he got shot?" Jim asked.

"What do you mean?" Charlie replied.

"Well, how come I didn't see his ghost? I was expecting to see him, probably swearing up a storm," Jim said.

"He's a god, Jim. Gods don't have souls to hang around after they die because, physical form or not, gods are spirits, concepts or ideals. So after we burned him, he just went back to where ever the hell he was from." Charlie said. "I'm sure no one was happy to see him when he got there, either."

"So he went to heaven?" Jim asked.

"I told you, he went back to where ever the hell he was from," Charlie said, mildly irritated. "Don't ask questions your feeble little mind can't handle the answers to."

Jim drifted off to another part of the room and sulked.

"Fuck, I'm sorry Jim," Charlie said. "I'm just upset."

"It's ok." Jim said.

Hep came out of the shower. "Are those guys back yet? I'm famished."

"We haven't heard them, but it's only been ten minutes, calm down." Charlie said.

Not too much later, Tommy, Dave and Too Tall knocked on Hep's door. He let them in, and they brought a couple of bags of groceries and a case of beer into the room and set them down on the table.

"You got a fridge in here?" Too Tall asked Hep.

"Nope, so I guess we'll be drinking warm beer tonight," Hep said.

"That's ok, this is good beer for drinking warm," Too Tall said, and held up a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

"Maybe if we drink it fast," Hep said. "Hey Jim, go get Athena and Minerva."

Jim drifted into the ladies' room, and began saying "Hey, come over to Hep's room for food and..." when he noticed that they were both in the middle of dressing. He was stunned (and impressed) and stopped talking and just stared.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Athena yelled at him. "Just because you're a ghost doesn't mean you don't need to knock any more."

"Oh! Right! Uh, Sorry!" Jim said, and went back to Hep's room. That was embarrassing.

Soon after, Minerva and Athena walked into Hep's room. Athena gave Jim a nasty glare, but didn't say anything.

Hep gave everyone a beer, then held up his own. "A toast to the fallen," he said, then emptied his beer on the floor.

"Shit, that's going to piss off the cleaning lady," Jim mumbled.

"Shut up, Jim, this is important," Tommy said. "Have some class."

Hep remained silent for a moment, then got another beer and drank it himself.

"So, I guess our next stop will be Mankato, Minnesota. Then up to Brainerd." Hep said.

"Then what?" Dave asked.

"Then we'll see what happens from there." Hep said. "Let's have something to eat, I'm starving."

They broke into the cold cuts, cold salads, chips and pretzels that Tommy, Dave and Too Tall had brought, and drank a lot of beer. After they were stuffed, and drunk to boot, Tommy, Dave, Too Tall, Minerva and Athena went back to their rooms.

Charlie and Hep relocated the empty beer bottles to the table, and carefully stepped over the puddle of beer on the floor every time they walked by. Jim was puzzled that they'd just left the beer there, but decided not to say anything about it. After all, it wasn't like he could get into any kind of trouble for the mess they made.

Once the room was reasonably tidy (eg. There was a safe path they could walk along from beds to bathroom), Charlie turned in for the night. Hep sat up for a while, thinking about the events of the last couple days.

The phone rang.

Hep went over and picked it up.

"Hep, is that you?" Elvis drawled.

"The very same," Hep answered.

"Damn, man, how are you doing?" Elvis asked.

"Not too good, not too good at all" Hep said.

"I bet. I was sorry to hear about Scroat. I didn't like him much, but I know he meant well."

"Thanks Elvis," Hep said.

"So you know this thing isn't over yet, right?" Elvis asked.

"Of course. It's not over until Tommy's invited us to dinner." Hep said.

"Yeah, but you know that Seth's guys are still looking for you?" Elvis asked.

"I figured. None of them seemed too bright," Hep said. "And a few of them might be mad we tore up their buddies. Do they know where we are?"

"Not as far as I know, but they do know you're heading for Minnesota. You're going to want to stay low key when you get there. You might even be able to slip up to Brainerd unnoticed if you're careful." Elvis said. "I'd say stick to riding through the cow towns as much as you can."

"Sure thing. The drivers in the Twin Cities are too slow for me to bear anyway." Elvis said.

"Well, be careful out there," Elvis said.

"You bet. See ya, Elvis." Hep said, and hung up the phone. He was mildly annoyed that Seth's goons knew where they were headed, though since that's where Tommy lived it was only logical. He hoped they'd be able to sneak up to Brainerd without having to deal with any more red shirts or angry statues.

It would be easy enough to stay out of sight though. For all the urban sophistication of Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota was still a farm state. They could breeze through cornfields and forests all the way up to Brainerd, if they had to.

Hep went to bed, and eventually fell asleep. He dreamt of home, and his forge. He couldn't wait to get back and be done with this whole sorry trip.

Jim was restless, and explored the motel. He was careful to avoid Minerva and Athena's room, though he peeked into several of the other rooms. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything interesting going on that night, just a lot of sleeping travelers. Eventually he went back to Hep and Charlie's room, and spent the rest of the night staring out the window.

Chapter 28

2006-11-22T21:11:00.000-08:00

Seth was feeling jubilant. In a matter of hours, the two dolts would deliver Tommy's tobacco pouch right to him, and within hours the chaos would begin to take hold. Soon, the worlds of men and gods would tumble, and he'd be able to step in and rule.

He got himself so excited about the possibilities that he had to go and pee.

He was a little anxious though. If things, somehow, went wrong it would be frustrating. Someone might see fit to send him back to the upper realms of Ra. Frankly, he was sick of being the voice of thunder. It would be best to leave that to the stupid blacksmiths, he felt. And he hadn't clawed and fought his way back to this world just to foul it up at the last minute.

He decided to go and see how his prisoner was feeling.

"Hello, Tommy," he said as he walked into the room he was keeping Tommy in. "How's your head?"

"How do you think it is, dink?" Tommy said.

"Oh Tommy, don't you know it hurt me more than it hurt you? To have a guest in my home trying to bring those fools here, it just breaks my heart," Seth said, then giggled. "Who am I kidding? It hurt you way more than it hurt me. In fact, I found it most entertaining. Perhaps you'll be so good as to give me an encore performance later today?"

"Fuck you, Seth," Tommy said.

"No, no, Tommy. You're the one who's fucked. You, and your friends, and your friends friends... oh, I have to pee again." Seth said, and left the room.

Tommy struggled half-heartedly to get free from his binds, but knew it was no good. He hoped Hep and the rest would find their way to him soon.

***

Once all the UTMCers had arrived at Dave's house, Hep took one of them aside and spoke quietly with him. Scroat saw Hep hand something to him, and then he walked over to where Scroat was waiting. The UTMCer left the house, and Scroat heard him as he started his bike and rode off.

"What the fuck was that about?" Scroat asked Hep.

"Just a contingency plan," Hep said. "So, are we ready to roll?"

The UTMC crew, Charlie, Minerva and Athena finished their coffees and conversations, and made their way out to the bikes. Today they would ride together, looking for a particular van.

As Hep started his bike, Dave walked over to him carrying a large book. The pages were all yellow, and Dave had a spot marked with his finger.

"So, you know, there's only a few scooter repair shops in Denver," Dave said and showed him the book. It was a copy of the yellow pages. The ad he was pointing to was for "Lammy Lenny's Scooter Repair." The tagline read "Look for our van!" and there was a picture of a seafoam green van.

Hep looked at Dave. "You're brilliant. And they're shockingly stupid."

"So it would seem," Dave said. "Shall we roll by their shop and see if anyone's home?"

"Oh yes, I think we shall," Hep said. Dave went back over to his bike and started it up. A couple of minutes later they were on their way through Denver to have a nice little chat with Lammy Lenny.

It didn't take long for them to find the shop, but the van wasn't outside, and it looked like the place was closed. They decided to park and wait for a little while.

About an hour later, a seafoam green Ford Econoline drove around the corner. As it got closer to where Hep and the rest were parked, the driver slowed down and looked at them. Suddenly he sat up straight, and stomped on the accelerator.

"Fuck, he's gonna run!" Scroat yelled. They rushed to get their bikes started again. Charlie was the first to get started and rolling, and was behind the van before he even made it to the end of the block. The rest followed soon after.

The driver of the van sped off, running red lights and making wild turns, trying to shake Charlie. Of course, a van doesn't handle nearly as well as a Ducati, and Charlie had no problem keeping up. To be honest, he was having the most fun he'd had on the whole trip.

Hep and the rest weren't too far behind, and were gaining on them quickly.

The van tried to make a hard right, but over-shot it and ran into a streetlamp on the far side of the road. The van came to a grinding halt. The driver, who was wearing a red shirt, threw open the door and tried to run, but Charlie was already there, and caught him before he was even out of the van.

"What's the rush, little man?" Charlie asked him. The driver struggled to get away, but Charlie overpowered him easily. Hep and the rest caught up and surrounded the van. Hep got off his bike and went up to the driver.

"Where's Tommy?" Hep asked.

"Fuck you!" the driver said.

"Oh, that's not the right answer. Scroat, maybe you could help him out here." Hep said.

Scroat punched the red shirt in the gut. "Where the fuck is Tommy?" he asked.

"Get bent."

Hep rolled his eyes. "Jim, maybe you can convince him to help us out."

The van driver looked around, trying to see who Jim was. Suddenly he felt very cold, and then Jim appeared in front of him. The driver stared, speechless.

"Hey buddy, ever been possessed by the ghost of a lumberjack and dragged screaming out of the roughest strip club in town after getting on stage with the girls and taking off your own clothes?" Jim asked, then smiled.

"Jesus, he's at Seth's house," the driver said.

"We're not looking for Jesus, we're looking for Tommy," Scroat said.

"He's at Seth's house, fuck, we took him there a couple days ago," the driver said.

Charlie shook the driver once, hard. "Where's Seth's house?" The driver looked at Charlie, then looked at Jim, and told Hep exactly how to get to Seth's house.

"Thanks. Was that so hard?" Hep asked. "Run on home now."

Charlie let go of him, and the driver took off running down the street.

Hep looked at Dave. "Well, let's go," he said.

***

Ian was busy riding north and east, towards Minnesota. Hep had given him a package and told him it was vitally important that he get it to Minnesota. Once there, he was to use the money Hep had given him to rent a safe-deposit box, and put the package in it. Then he was to wait in Minnesota for Hep to arrive.

He didn't really understand why Hep would want to send something all the way to Minnesota just to put it in a safe-deposit box when there were so many banks in Denver that were much more convenient. He did know, however, that Hep wouldn't have asked him to do it if it wasn't important.

So, he rode on along the major freeways, stopping only for gas, coffee and food.

***

Hep and the rest arrived at Seth's house within twenty minutes of catching the van's driver. They roared up the long driveway to a huge house, a mansion really. They got to the end of the driveway, and as they stopped, Seth came out the front door to greet them.

"Welcome!" Seth cried. "I was worried you weren't going to make it, but here you are, my old friends!"

"Where the fuck is Tommy, you sphincter-clinging piece of shit?" Scroat yelled.

"He's inside, of course, safe and happy. Well," Seth corrected himself, "safe anyway. Who are your friends, Hep?"

"You know exactly who they are, Seth," Hep said.

"Well, perhaps you'd like to meet my friends, then. Gentlemen, come out and introduce yourselves," Seth said. Suddenly there were red shirts coming out of every door, every nook and every cranny around Seth's house. They were armed with assault rifles and other implements of destruction.

There were easily eighty red-shirted goons pointing guns at them.

"Wow, Seth, is all this for us? You shouldn't have," Hep said.

"Oh, I couldn't resist, Hep. Now, I think you have something that I very much want. Please hand it over, and none of your friends will get hurt." Seth said.

"Our friends aren't going to get hurt, but I think your fuck buddies are going to be in for ten thousand years of pain, jerk off," Scroat said.

"I hoped you'd say that," Seth said. "Gentlemen?"

The red shirts opened fire.

"Holy shit!" Scroat yelled and dove for cover along with the rest of the UTMC. Hep and Charlie ducked behind their bikes, popping up to return fire, then ducking again. Minerva ran to the back of the group, while Athena walked calmly towards Seth.

The UTMCers were slowly gaining an advantage, as the red shirts were terrible shots. The UTMC crew, being honest, tax-paying, gun-loving American sons of bitches, were not bad shots. Soon there were a lot red shirted goons on the ground, some dead, others clutching at flesh wounds. The UTMCers began pushing their way forward.

Athena calmly approached Seth, who was waiting just outside the door of his house, watching. Although bullets occasionally grazed her leathers, or pushed through her hair, none hit her. Soon she was on the porch directly in front of Seth.

"Stop right there," he said, and pointed a gun at her. She smiled at him.

"Ok," then she handed him something surprisingly heavy. Seth looked down and saw that it was one of Charlie's home made bombs. He looked up and saw Athena running away.

"Shit," Seth said, and then the bomb went off. Seth was vaporized, and the goons nearby were knocked off their feet by the explosion. The red shirts still standing all stopped what they were doing to look at what happened. Then they scattered. Soon Hep and the rest heard two-stroke motors coming to life, and soon there were twenty or so scooters zipping past them on their way out to the road.

Amazingly enough, none of the UTMCers were seriously injured, though a couple of them had been grazed by bullets. It's good to have a couple of war gods on your side in a firefight.

Hep, Scroat and Charlie rushed into the house. The three of them over-powered the muscle-bound goon guarding the room, and cut the ropes restraining Tommy. They walked out of the house together. Minerva, Athena, Jim and the UTMC crew all cheered as they saw Tommy. Tommy smiled and waved.

"Thanks, pal," Tommy said to Hep.

"Of course. But don't do it again," Hep said, and slapped Tommy on the back. They began walking towards their bikes.

Then they heard a shot fired behind them. Scroat stopped walking and looked down at his chest. Blood poured from a hole that hadn't been there before.

"Oh, fuck!" Scroat exclaimed, and fell down, dead.

Dave shot the red shirt who was clutching a still-smoking gun pointed at Scroat. The red shirt fell back to the ground.

Hep and the rest gathered around Scroat. Jim started looking around, as though he expected to see someone.

"Where the hell is he?" Jim asked Hep.

"Back home," Hep said. He stooped down, and rolled Scroat over onto his back, and arranged his legs and arms so he lay naturally. Finally, he closed Scroat's eyes.

Charlie tucked a bottle of rum under Scroat's arm, then they covered him with leaves and branches. Charlie lit a match, and said "Go well, friend," then threw the match onto the pyre. It roared to life immediately, and soon there was nothing left but smoldering embers where their friend had laid before.

"See you round, Scroat," Hep said.

They left Seth's yard, and started heading for Minnesota. Most of the UTMC crew stayed in Denver, but Dave and Too Tall accompanied Hep, Charlie, Jim, Minerva and Athena.

There was still a matter to attend to.

Chapter 27

2006-11-22T07:16:00.000-08:00

Hep was up at dawn. That meant everyone else in the house was up approximately five minutes later when he woke Scroat up.

The rest of the UTMC crew started gathering at Dave’s house at about seven in the morning. By eight, all of them were there. Once everyone was suitably caffeinated, they split into two groups and went out looking for trouble.

Of course, they weren’t exactly sure what trouble looked like, except that it might be wearing a red shirt and riding a scooter.

They agreed to meet every couple of hours at a particular coffee shop, and then rolled off in different directions. Hep, Scroat, Jim and Dave went with one group, while Charlie, Minerva and Athena rode with the others.

“So have you got any idea where the fuck Tommy is?” Scroat asked Hep while they were at a stoplight.

“Nope, and neither does he,” Hep replied. “I talked to him in a dream last night, but Seth interrupted us. All I know is that Seth has got him locked up in a fancy house somewhere.”

“Well, fuck,” Tommy said.

“Yep,” Hep said.

They rode on, looking for anything that might tip them off to where Seth was keeping Scroat.

On the other side of town, a seafoam green van that said “Lammy Lenny’s Scooter Repair” roared passed Charlie and his group at an intersection. They didn’t think much of it, except that drivers in Denver were assholes.
***
Aphrodite was freaking out. Frank had called her babbling about guns, homemade bombs and a house full of bikers ready to go out and use them. Apparently Tommy had been kidnapped, and Hep and his friends were going to try and rescue him.

She paced around her shop, trying to think of what she could do. Frank was useless; she’d hired him to keep an eye on Hep, not to get involved in a war between gods. Also, Frank had no idea who Hep or any of the ideas were. As far as he knew, they were just an eccentric group of bikers. She was annoyed and glad at the same time that Hep had caught wise to Frank, because it meant Frank wouldn’t be blindly walking into a war zone.

On the other hand, it meant she couldn’t be sure what was happening now. She was very frustrated, as she couldn’t think of a single thing she could do to help.
***
The two groups of bikers convened at the agreed upon coffee shop at noon. Neither of them had anything useful to report. They did, however, realize that they didn’t have a good way to communicate with each other if they did discover something. Too Tall suggested that one or two of them stay behind at the coffee shop to receive phone calls and pass messages on between the groups.

They drew straws and Brian and J.J. were the lucky two who got to stay at the coffee shop. Everyone chipped in a couple of bucks to keep them in coffee and baked goods until they all met up again.

The riders went back out to keep looking for Tommy, or at least information about where he might be. Brian and J.J. watched them go.

“So, uh, want to play gin?” J.J. asked Brian.

“Not really,” Brian said, and lit a cigarette. “Maybe later.”

They went inside and got a couple cups of coffee, and found a table to wait at. The coffee shop was pretty much empty except for them and the kid working behind the counter. Brian dug a book out of his backpack and started reading. J.J. sat quietly for a few minutes, and then found a deck of cards and started playing solitaire.
***
Tommy was awake, and wondering if the burly scooter kid guarding him was ever going to need to sleep, or use the bathroom, or something that would get rid of him for a few minutes. He wanted to try contacting Hep or someone again, but he couldn’t very well do it with the human brick wall by the door punching him in the gut every time he tried.

The red shirt guarding him, however, hardly did anything more than blink and occasionally shift his weight from one foot to the other.

Tommy watched him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a chance to try again. Some time later the kid started beeping. Tommy quickly realized it was a cell phone.

The guard pulled out the phone and answered it. “Yes?” he asked. “Ok,” he said. He turned around and left the room.

“Hooray!” Tommy thought, then focussed his energy on mentally locating Elvis. Soon enough he had a thought that wasn’t his.

“Tommy, what are you doing in my head?” was the thought.

“Elvis, I’m telling you how to find me, and I haven’t got much time. The guys who kidnapped me were all wearing red shirts and they were driving a light green van with a sign for some kind of scooter shop painted on the sides,” Tommy thought.

“Oh, now what is this?” Tommy heard Seth said. Tommy opened his eyes just in time to see Seth’s ape man swing and hit him in the face.

“Talking to Elvis, are we?” Seth asked. “Since you refuse to play nicely, I guess I’m just going to have to start playing hardball. Knock him out, please.” The red shirted ogre produced a sap and quickly hit Tommy in the head with it. Tommy slumped forward in his chair.

“Sweet dreams, stupid prince,” Seth said.
***
“Hey, are you guys in the UTMC?” the kid behind the counter asked Brian and J.J.

“Yes,” Brian answered and put down his book to look at him.

“I got a phone call for you,” the kid said.

“Ok,” Brian walked over and took the phone from the kid. “Hello?” he asked.

“Hello? Who’s this?” the voice on the other end drawled.

“This is Brian, who’s this?” Brian asked.

“This is Elvis. Look, are you with Hep?” Elvis asked.

“Uh… uh… no. Hep is out looking for Tommy. Uh… are you the Elvis?” Brian asked.

“Of course I am, what kind of thick headed question is that? Look, I’ve got some news that might help you guys find Tommy. Are you ready?” Elvis said?

“Uh, sure thing, Elvis.” Brian said. Elvis then told Brian what Tommy had said about the van.

“Oh man! We saw that van this morning! Fuck!” Brian said.

“Well, at least you know that they’re probably somewhere in Denver still,” Elvis said. “I’ll call again if I learn anything new.”

Brian hung up the phone, and went back to the table to tell J.J. what he had learned.

J.J. stopped him. “Wait a minute, you talked to Elvis?”
***
Hep and Scroat were beginning to freak out a bit. They’d spent the day looking, listening and waiting for some kind of clue to present itself, and so far they didn’t know anything more than they had when they left Dave’s house that morning.

Frustrated, Hep suggested they head back to the coffee shop and wait for the other group to get back.

“Fucking hell,” Scroat said. “I haven’t been this annoyed since you bastards dragged me out of that whorehouse. Once we’ve saved Tommy’s life, I’m going to kill him for putting us through this.”

“Is that before or after you kick him in the nuts?” Hep asked.

“After. And before. That stupid cock-dripping has earned a week’s worth of nut-kicking.” Scroat said, and mimed repeatedly kicking Tommy in the crotch. “By the time I’m done with him, national football teams are going to be recruiting me because they’ve heard about my fancy fucking footwork.”

“Seems reasonable,” Hep said. They rode back to the coffee shop.
***
Charlie and his group were already back at the coffee shop, and Brian and J.J. had filled them in on what Elvis had said.

“Elvis called, can you believe it?” J.J. said to one of the other UTMCers. “Brian got to talk to Elvis, the lucky son of a bitch.”

“I can’t believe it was that van,” Charlie said to Athena and Dave. “Damn it, we were right next to them. We could have grabbed them this morning and been on our way to get Tommy already.”

Soon Hep, Scroat and the rest arrived. They were excited to hear that Tommy had been able to get in touch with Elvis and give more details, even if they were a little sketchy.

They decided to call it a day. Hep knew that Seth wouldn’t kill Tommy. If he did, his plan wouldn’t work. Hep also knew that if Seth did kill Tommy, Tommy would just pop up in Minnesota again, not much worse for the wear. They’d be able to give back the tobacco pouch, Tommy would be able to act out his myth, and then life would go on as it always did. No, what Seth really needed was to get ahold of the tobacco pouch, and destroy it, or otherwise prevent Tommy from getting it back.

Which meant that Tommy could wait another night before they went to rescue him.

Hep, Scroat, Charlie, Jim, Minerva and Athena went back with Dave to his house for the night. The rest of the UTMCers went back to their own houses. They were all alert and keeping their eyes peeled for a seafoam green Ford Econoline, but they didn’t see one that night.

At Dave’s house, Charlie pulled out a bottle of rum and said, “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a pull off the old bottle. Anyone care to join me?”

They passed the bottle around a few times until they all felt a bit warm and fuzzy, and then turned in for the night. Although they slept deeply, none of them dreamed and they didn’t hear anything from Tommy that night.

Chapter 26

2006-11-20T20:27:00.000-08:00

Tommy woke up tied to a chair. He had a brutal headache. He looked around a bit, and saw that he was in an unfurnished room. It appears that the furniture had recently been removed, as there were still dents in the plush carpet where tables and chairs had been before. Expensive looking curtains were drawn over the windows. He was apparently alone.

He couldn't tell what time it was, but from the amount of light coming in the windows he guessed it was either early in the morning, or shortly before sundown.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself.

Some time later, the door opened and an unusually muscular guy with tattooed arms and a red shirt came in. A couple seconds later, Seth came in to the room as well.

"Hello Tommy," Seth said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fuck you, Seth," Tommy said in response. The red shirt smacked the back of Tommy's head. "Ow, dammit!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Now Tommy, we can be more civil than that, can't we?" Seth asked. "Oh, who am I kidding? It's more fun this way. Hit him again, please." Seth smiled as his goon punched Tommy in the gut. Tommy groaned.

"What do you want, Seth?" Tommy asked when he got his breath back.

"Complete chaos, as usual. Catching you is a perk, because now chaos is going to come to me, instead of me having to go find it," Seth said. "I'm a little worn out and bored with chasing things after following you and Hep around the country." Seth moved to stand directly in front of Tommy, though well out of reach. He crouched down to be at the same level as Tommy.

"Now, all I have to do is keep you here until the shit, so to speak, hits the fan. And, of course, Hep and his posse of idiots are going to try and find you. If they come here, well, that'll just be more fun for me. I do love a good warm up." Seth said, and smiled at Tommy. He stood up.

"Enjoy your time here, you won't have much left." Seth said. He walked out of the room. The beefy goon followed, shut the door, and Tommy heard him lock it.

The light coming in the windows started to get darker, so Tommy was able to guess at the time. He hoped he'd be able to find Hep or Scroat, or even Elvis, as he dreamed that night.

***

Hep, Scroat, Charlie, Jim and now Frank were busy picking enough weapons from Charlie's stash to arm themselves, Minerva, Athena, Dave and the UTMC crew, any extra UTMCers Dave was able to round up, and a few dozen spares. Just in case.

They stood in front of a pile of revolvers, rifles, explosives (lovingly made by Charlie himself), clubs and other blunt instruments, blades, ammunition, and a first aid kit.

"Think it's enough?" Charlie asked them. Frank slowly turned and looked at him in amazement.

"Who the hell are you guys up against?" Frank asked.

"A wicked witch and her army of flying monkeys," Scroat said sarcastically.

"Frank, apart from carrying this stuff to Denver, you're going to be better off not knowing anything and not getting involved," Hep said.

"And staying out of the way," Jim added.

"Well, we've got that sorted, I guess. Let's load up the car and your sidecar and get back to Denver," Charlie said. They spent a good half hour trying to cram everything into the vehicles. Frank refused to have Charlie's bombs in the car with him, so those went into Hep's sidecar. Once everything was in, they covered the stuff in the sidecar with a tarp, and the weaponry in Frank's Corvette with blankets that had puppies on them.

"No one will think you're transporting a small army's worth of guns and blades in a Corvette under puppy blankets," Charlie said, and laughed. "Good thinking, Frank."

Frank was near panic, and he was itching to dig out the cell phone and call his boss and ask what the hell she had gotten him involved in.

"Let's get moving," Hep said. They mounted up, Charlie grinning as he fired up is Ducati.

"I thought you were gone for good, baby," he said to the bike.

***

The UTMC crew and Minerva and Athena were a couple hours outside of Denver, and riding fast.

***

While Hep and the rest were going to Aspen, Dave had started rounding up everyone he could find to come and help out. Soon there were twenty more UTMCers waiting for Hep and the rest in a coffee shop in Denver.

"So, what are we up against here?" one of them asked Dave.

"A whole world of shit," Dave said. "Once again, we've got to help Hep save the world."

"You know, one of these days I'm probably going to stop being glad to see Hep," another UTMCer quipped.

They went back to waiting, drinking coffee, and swapping lies about how fast their lap times were at the track.

***

Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Jim rode fast back to Denver. They would have gone faster, but they were limited by Frank's ability to drive the Corvette. His vehicle, sadly, was entirely standard, and not nearly as capable as their bikes.

But then, they were gods, and Frank was a goofball kid from east bumfuck, as Scroat would say.

On straight sections of road, they drove at 120 miles per hour. In curvy parts, they slowed it down to 80.

At one point, they blew past a cop. He immediately turned on his lights and gave chase to Frank. Frank pulled over, and the others pulled over with him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the cop asked Frank. Charlie walked back to where the cop and Frank were. "Get out of the car please, sir," the cop said to Frank.

Charlie walked up to the cop. "Sir, we've got a dire emergency and need to keep moving."

"Who the fuck are you?" the cop asked, his hand instinctively reaching for his side-arm.

"Just your friendly neighborhood god of war," Charlie said. "This man is with me, and we need to go. Now."

"You're not going anywhere pal, until..."the cop began, then stopped. Fire was dancing in Charlie's eyes, and the cop could swear Charlie had just exhaled smoke. He could smell coal burning.

"Until what?" Charlie asked calmly.

"Until I've told you to have a nice day. Drive carefully now," the cop said, and hurried back to his own car.

Frank stared at Charlie. "What the hell?" he asked.

"You don't want to know. Just get in the car and drive," Charlie said. He walked back to his bike, and Frank got back in the car. They all sped off, rocketing towards Denver.

An hour later, they arrived at the coffee shop.

***

"Wow, you managed to find a lot of people," Hep said to Dave.

"I do what I can, Dave said. "So what now?"

"So now we go back to someone's house, figure out our next step, and try to get some sleep," Hep said. They decided to head back to Dave's house. Hep and Frank followed immediately behind Dave. The rest rode behind Frank.

At Dave's house, Frank and Hep parked in the garage and they shut the door. As the rest of the group arrived, they parked on the street, on Dave's driveway, and in his yard. They all filed inside.

Inside, Hep, Charlie, Scroat and Dave were unloading the Corvette and sidecar. Frank stood in a corner watching with mounting horror as the UTMCers bickered over which weapons they were best suited to carry. He was pretty sure that he'd never seen a TV detective getting wrapped up in this kind of heavy shit before, and he had no idea what he should do.

Luckily, cowering in the corner was exactly where Hep preferred Frank to be. Best to leave the world-saving to those who are up to the task.

Once everyone was well and truly armed to the teeth, they gathered in Dave's living room and Hep filled them in on what was going on. He told them they were going to have to kick a lot of asses in order to get Tommy back.

He also told them that he currently had absolutely no idea where Tommy actually was, so the first order of business would be to find that crucial bit of information.

After that, they agreed to meet back at Dave's house the next morning and plan their next move. Most of the UTMC crew left to go sleep in their own homes.

Shortly after the crowd left, Too Tall and the rest arrived at Dave's house.

"Hey guys, what did we miss?" Athena asked.

***

That night, Hep dreamt he was on a boat, fishing. He thought he must be in Minnesota. In the boat with him was Tommy.

"Hep, you gotta help me out," Tommy said.

"You gotta tell me where you are," Hep replied. "Are you ok?"

"As ok as I can be when I'm a prisoner of Seth's. I don't know exactly where I am. In a fancy house somewhere..." Tommy said. He was interrupted by a voice coming from the left. They looked, and saw Seth standing on the water.

"Tommy, you're not trying to go behind my back now, are you?" Seth asked. "That's hardly playing fair at all. Hello Hep. Are the fish biting?" Seth gave Hep a large, shit-eating grin.

"Fuck you, Seth," Tommy said.

"Now, now, that's just not nice at all. I think it's time for you to wake up." Seth said, and vanished.

'What the hell does that mean?" Tommy asked Hep, then disappeared as well.

***

Tommy woke up gasping for breath, hunched over. The big red-shirted guy was standing over him with his fists clenched. Tommy realized he'd been punched in the gut again.

Seth stood nearby. "Oh Tommy, I can't have you playing games like that if you're going to be my guest here," he said mournfully. Then he laughed. "I guess I'm going to have to be a little more strict with you. Hit him again, please."

The red-shirted ogre back-handed Tommy across the face.

"No more silliness, now, or I'll have to start being outright unpleasant." Seth said, and left the room.

The red shirt went over to the door and closed it, then locked it from the inside. Evidentally he was going to stay in the room and keep and eye on Tommy.

"Great," Tommy muttered.

Chapter 25

2006-11-19T20:03:00.000-08:00

When Hep woke up, he was surprised to see that Scroat was awake already.

"The darn sunlight coming in the window was right on my face," Scroat explained.

"I see." Hep said. He poked Charlie and Dave awake. Jim drifted in to the room.

"There's a guy about a block away sitting in a Corvette. He's been there all night, but he hasn't moved once," Jim said.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Hep asked.

"Well, he's not doing anything, except I see a cigarette burning now and then, and hear him coughing." Jim said.

"All right," Hep said. "Well, I guess we'll just leave, and keep an eye on our asses."

They packed up their gear, and split. It was good that they left when they did, because the employee responsible for opening the attraction arrived about five minutes after they rolled out of the parking lot.

Frank followed at a distance as they rode north. He liked the Corvette a lot better than the Lincoln. It was black, fast, and felt purposeful as he drove it.

About an hour later, they arrived in Denver. They found a restaurant called Breakfast King that looked pretty promising since it was both open, and had "breakfast" in the name. They went inside.

Not too long after they got a table, Scroat saw a black Corvette pull into the parking lot.

"There's our man," Scroat said.

"Let's see what he does," Charlie said.

Frank didn't do much, except crack the window and light a cigarette. He thought that TV detectives should definitely drive Corvettes more often.

Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Dave ordered breakfast. Jim went and hung out by the Corvette, invisible, to see what he was up to. Jim overheard him calling someone on his cell phone.

"Yeah, they stopped for breakfast in Denver," is what he heard Frank say. Jim hustled in to the restaurant, and whispered to Hep that the guy in the parking lot was calling someone and telling who ever it was where they currently were.

"I see," Hep said. He thought for a moment, then kept eating. They paid their bill and left.

"I'm going to walk the long way around the lot, and have a little chat with our friend," Hep said. "You guys go back to the bikes and I'll be over in a minute."

He started walking. The rest went over to the bikes. Frank couldn't see Hep, so he kept an eye on Scroat, Charlie and Dave. He was extremely surprised when Hep pulled open his door and dragged him out of the car. Frank's first thought was "Maybe I should have kept my seatbelt on."

Hep lifted Frank and pulled him up to his face. "Who are you and what do you want, chum?" Hep asked in his most menacing voice.

"Um, I'm Frank," Frank said.

"What do you want Frank? We've seen you following us. Why?" Hep asked.

"A lady hired me to keep an eye on you," Frank said.

Hep shook Frank once, hard, and asked "What lady?"

"I... I don't know her real name. She just called herself Aphrodite," Frank said. He knew he probably should be giving so much information away, but Hep was huge, ugly and seemed really, really pissed off.

Hep set Frank down. "Why would Aphrodite want to keep an eye on me?" he asked.

"I don't know, she just told me to call her anytime anything weird happened to you guys." Frank said.

"I see. Frank, I don't know why I feel this way, but I think for the time being I'm going to trust you," Hep said. Frank relaxed the tiniest bit. "You can stay behind us, but keep out of the way. I guarantee you don't want to get mixed up in what we're involved in."

"Uh, Um, ok." Frank said. Hep was already walking towards the bikes.

***

Tommy had also just finished breakfast, and was walking to his car when a seafoam green Ford Econoline with "Lammy Lenny's Scooter Repair" painted on the side screeched up behind him. Three guys in red shirts jumped out of the back, grabbed Tommy and dragged him into the back of the van. Tommy, naturally struggled violently against them, and after a couple moments one of the scooterist hit Tommy on the back of the head with a 1/2 inch drive socket wrench. Tommy went limp, and they quickly tied him up with zip ties and duct tape.

***

"Where the hell do you think they went from here?" Too Tall asked Athena.

"I don't know, we should find a pay phone. I know someone that might know where they're at," she said.

"Who's that?" Too Tall asked.

"Elvis," Athena said.

"I beg your pardon?" Too Tall asked, incredulous.

"You heard me. Elvis should know where they are," Athena told him.

The left the campground, and started riding towards New Mexico. Soon enough they found a gas station and Athena went to use the pay phone.

"Who's she calling?" Brian asked Too Tall.

"Elvis," Too Tall said.

"Elvis?" Brain asked.

"I guess," Too Tall replied.

"The Elvis?" Brian asked.

"So it would seem," Too Tall said.

"Do you think she could introduce me to him?" Brian asked.

"I think we have more important things to worry about than meeting dead rock stars," Too Tall said.

"What ever. No need to be a dick about it." Brian said, and walked by to his own bike.

Athena came back from the phone. "Our favorite guys are in Denver right now," she said.

"Sweet!" Too Tall said. "We'll be able to grab the rest of the UTMC crew while we're there."

Athena didn't tell them that Elvis had also told her that Tommy had been kidnapped. Elvis wasn't able to confirm that, it was just something he'd heard. No need to freak everyone out over a rumor. Athena was pretty concerned about Tommy though. It would be awfully hard to for Hep to give back the tobacco pouch if they couldn't get to Tommy.

"Let's go," she said. They all mounted up again, and rode north.

Entirely by coincidence, they stopped at the Double Eagle restaurant for lunch. As they ate, Armando commented to Inez that they were certainly getting a lot of motorcyclists in the restaurant lately.

***

Hep went to find a pay phone. He called Elvis.

"Hey man, what's the good word?" Hep asked him.

"Hey Hep, I've got some good news, and some bad news," Elvis said.

"Ok, well, start laying it on me," Hep said.

"Well, first off, the UTMC crew and those two lovely ladies have gotten their bikes back and are rushing to meet you guys in Denver. They're somewhere in southern New Mexico right now," Elvis said.

"So that must be the good news," Hep said.

"Yep. The other news is that Tommy has been kidnapped." Elvis said.

"What?" Hep exclaimed. "Kidnapped? Where? By who?"

"He was in Denver, last I heard. One of those red-shirted bastards was overheard bragging about it."

"Fuck," Hep said.

"Yeah," Elvis replied.

"I guess we've got some work to do then," Hep said. "Talk to you later, Elvis."

"I hope so," Elvis said.

Hep went back to where Scroat, Charlie, Dave and Jim were waiting.

"Tommy has been kidnapped," he said.

"Oh my fuck!" Scroat said. "That's bad news."

"Thanks for stating the obvious," Charlie said.

"Fuck you, Chuck," Scroat responded.

"The good news is that the UTMC crew got their bikes back somehow and are on their way to Denver right now. They should be here late tonight." Hep said.

"So what should we do?" Charlie asked.

"Well, I think we should leave Dave here to wait for the UTMC crew, and then head over to your house to gather some weaponry. And then, we're going to go kick some motherfucking asses." Hep said.

They left Dave at a coffee shop the UTMC crew were known to lurk at, and headed towards Aspen.

Frank followed behind them at a respectable distance.

A few hours later, they pulled into Charlie's driveway. He opened his garage door and there, with a bow on the tank, sat his Ducati.

"Fucking sweet!" Charlie yelled. He went over to the bike and looked it over. "It looks better than it did when it got stolen. No damage at all."

Hep smiled, and said "Great, now you won't have to ride in my side car. That oughta leave plenty of room for weaponry."

They heard a Corvette idling at the end of the driveway.

"Hey Jim, go get him and tell him to come down here." Hep said.

Jim drifted up the driveway and to the Corvette. He slipped through the door and sat in the passenger seat, then materialized next to Frank.

"Hey buddy, Hep says you should come down to the house," Jim said.

"Holy balls!" Frank yelled. He was so startled by Jim's appearance that he forgot he was holding the clutch down. He let go of it, but kept his other foot on the brake, and killed the car. It lurched forward just a tiny bit before it stalled, and Frank bounced his head off the steering wheel.

"Calm down, ya pansy," Jim said. "Haven't you ever seen a ghost before?"

"Uh, no. I can't say that I have," Frank said.

"Well, whatever. Hep wants you to go down to the house." Jim said.

Frank started the car again, and drove down the driveway. Hep, Scroat and Charlie were waiting for him there. He got out of the car.

"Hope Jim didn't scare you too bad," Hep said. Frank smiled weakly in response.

Hep continued, "It seems that the time has come for swift and violent action, and we're going to need your car to carry a whole bunch of weapons for us."

Frank stared at him.

"I know, it's pretty exciting. I'm sure you haven't gotten to play with guns much, but you're going to need to contain your enthusiasm a little bit and help us out." Hep said. "Let's go inside and start picking the implements most likely to cause our foes to befoul their undergarments."

Hep, Charlie and Scroat started walking into Charlie's house. Frank, shaking his head in disbelief, followed them. He was even more shocked when he got inside Charlie's house and realized that Charlie's home was more armory than humble dwelling.

Chapter 24

2006-11-19T20:02:00.000-08:00

The UTMC crew woke up and started figuring out their plan for the day. They figured they had canvassed the east side of town pretty well, so today they'd start on the west. Eventually Minerva and Athena came to the room they were meeting in, and they all set out from there.

They were amazed when they got outside and all of their bikes were there. Well, all of them except for Charlie's Ducati.

"What the fuck is this?" Too Tall asked no one in particular.

"I don't know," Brian said, "but if the bikes still run, I'm ok with whatever it is."

They went to their bikes and looked them over. It was like they'd parked them there the night before; there were no traces of hot-wiring or other tom-foolery.

"So what should we do?" Too Tall asked.

"Ride west," Athena replied.

On the way out of town, they stopped to gas up, and were once again amazed as their tanks were already full of gas.

"This is incredible," J.J. said.

They got out on the road again, and pointed their bikes towards San Antonio.

***

Aphrodite had hired the man in the Fedora to follow Hep and call her whenever anything odd happened. She'd gotten a lot of calls that were mostly amusing (notably every time Hep and Scroat beat up a statue), but occasionally concerning. When she'd heard that Scroat's friends had gotten their bikes stolen, she pulled some string with people she knew to make sure they got their bikes back in better condition than they'd left them in.

As it was, they were going to find out that they didn't ever need to stop for gas again.

Being friends with a god has its perks.

She heard that all of the bikes had been returned to them, except for Charlie's Ducati which was en route to his home in Colorado. It would make a nice "welcome home" surprise.

The man she hired, named Frank, seemed like a good kid, if a little dim. He was obsessed with old noir detective movies. She was relieved to find that, even though he'd bought enough cigarettes and "detective" clothes to outfit an entire army of Humphrey Bogart imprersonators, he had not armed himself with a pair of revolvers in shoulder holsters. He seemed like the type that would mistakenly shoot the good guys.

Although she was far from faithful to Hep, she still thought he was an awfully nice guy (except for the time he'd stuck her and Ares in a net), and she didn't want anything bad to happen to him. At least, nothing disabling.

***

Hep and his crew left El Paso and rode North to Mesilla, New Mexico. They stopped at The Double Eagle restaurant for a late breakfast. While they ate, Jim explored the restaurant a little bit. He was having an absolutely fantastic time, even when things weren't going well for them. He'd been stuck as a ghost in the redwoods for a long time, and when he was alive he hadn't really seen much of the United States. As a ghost, he could get into places that living people rarely went, and he was a curious kind of guy.

He was surprised to meet two other ghosts at the Double Eagle restaurant. Their names were Armando and Inez, and had apparently been killed by Armando's angry mother. When they asked Jim how he'd died, he told them a bear had attacked and killed him.

"That's harsh!" Armando said.

They asked him how he'd gotten out of the forest, as they'd been stuck in the building they were in since they died. Jim told them that his friends who were out in the restaurant eating had brought him with them after he had introduced himself while they were camping in the forest.

Eventually they got around to talking about why they were traveling. Jim told them his friends were trying to return something to another person. He told them about the people trying to stop them.

"We saw a group of guys in red shirts carrying helmets in here yesterday," Inez said. "They were saying something about changing routes and heading north to Albuquerque."

"Really? I'd better tell my friends." Jim said, and drifted over to the table everyone was sitting at. He introduced Armando and Inez to Hep and the rest of the crew.

"Please to meet you," Hep said.

"and no, you can't come with us," Scroat finished.

Jim told them that Armando and Inez had told him about the red shirted scooterist.

"So they know which way Tommy's headed already. Oh, that's not good," Charlie said.

"Nope," Hep said. "Thanks, you two," he said to Armando and Inez.

"We'd better get moving," Hep said. They paid their bill, and Jim said good bye to Armando and Inez. They told him to come visit any time, for the most part they were very lonely.

***

The UTMC crew stopped in Houston to gas up. They were stunned to see that all of their gas tanks were still completely full.

"How is that possible?" Too Tall asked Minerva and Athena.

"I guess someone is on our side for a change," Athena replied.

They rode on to San Antonio.

***

Shortly outside of Mesilla, Hep and Scroat spotted another muffler man along the side of the road, behind a fence with barbed wire along the top.

They passed by without incident. The statue didn't even blink. They were, to put it mildly, relieved.

"Man, I wish they'd put the rest of those fucking statues behind barbed wire," Scroat called to Hep.

Hep laughed, and they continued riding north to Albuquerque. The road was pretty dull, and they all spent the majority of the ride lost in their own thoughts. Hep was tired, and nearly dozed off a couple of times. He woke up both times with Jim staring him in the face yelling "Hey, none of us want to end up being ghosts stuck in the middle of freakin' New Mexico."

They stopped for lunch in Albuquerque at a Jack In The Box. Hep had a big cup of coffee.

"I guess we'd better try to get into Colorado today, and with any luck we'll catch up with Tommy in Denver tomorrow," Hep said.

"Sounds good to me," Scroat said. "I can't wait for this shit to be over so we can visit Tommy and then go home and sleep in our own damn beds for a change."

"I sure wouldn't mind finishing this up and being able to just go home to Aspen," Charlie said.

They finished eating and got moving again right away. On their way out of Albuquerque, they saw another muffler man, this one dressed as Paul Bunyan again. They decided to go a couple block around instead of passing the statue. None of them particularly felt like fighting yet another statues. Especially since they were pretty sure that last one wasn't Jeb. None of them wanted to find out who might be inside the next one. For all they knew, it could be one of the Aztecs they'd pissed off all those years ago.

On their way north, Hep saw a sign for "Stonefridge." He thought it would be fun to see Fridgehenge, to see if they managed to get it right. The Celts certainly didn't, though no one had the heart to tell them it was all wrong. Alas, there was no time for sight seeing, and it looked like "Stonefridge" was quite a distance out of their way.

He resolved to make another trip around the country to check out all the crazy stuff he'd missed after Tommy had his tobacco pouch back.

They kept riding north, and arrived in Colorado Springs just in time for dinner. They decided to stop in a grocery store and get some provisions to make their own dinner. Then they rode out to the "Authentic Indian Cliff Dwellings," and waited a short distance away until the small staff went home. Then they snuck in to the cliff dwellings and made themselves at home for the night.

"Nice of the Indians to build their cliff dwellings so close to a main road," Scroat commented.

"Ancient civic planning at it's best," Hep replied.

They had salami and cheese sandwiches to eat and then explored the cliff dwellings a bit. There were convenient signs telling them all about each room.

"I think these cliff dwellings are a hoax," Charlie said.

"Best kind of cliff dwelling there is. People get mad when you try to camp out in real ancient cliff dwellings," Hep said.

"Yeah, because the Indians never wanted anyone to actually live in the cliff dwellings. They were always just fucking model homes," Scroat cracked.

"You're a jerk, Scroat," Charlie said.

"Hey, at least I'm not riding in a sidecar like a bitch," Scroat shot back.

"Ok, chill out gentlemen. I'm going to sleep," Hep said. "Jim, don't wander too far. If something weird comes this way, wake us up."

"You got it," Jim said.

Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Dave spread out their blankets and tried to get comfortable. It was a bit challenging since the floor were rock, but they were all tired enough to fall asleep shortly after laying down.

Jim hung around just outside the entrance to the "cliff dwelling" they were sleeping in.

***

Since they didn't have to stop for gas, the UTMC crew and Minerva and Athena were able to ride straight through to El Paso. By they time they arrived they were awfully sore, and a bit jittery from all the coffee they'd gotten along the way. They found a place to camp for the night, and got ready to crash. They drew straws for who would stand watch, and what shift each watch had to take.

Too Tall got the first watch. "Dammit," he said, then stomped over to the picnic table in their campground and lit a cigarette. When it was time for the next person to start, he went over and woke J.J. up.

"Already?" J.J. asked. "Fuck." Too Tall laid down and fell asleep within seconds.

Chapter 23

2006-11-19T20:01:00.000-08:00

Tommy was having a hell of a time. The whole thing had started out so simply, though. It had always been simple before, why would it go wrong now? He had figured he'd go to visit Hep and Scroat, leave something behind, they'd return it and he'd be able to invite them over as his guests.

Except it took them too damn long to find the tobacco pouch. He was figuring they'd come running after him before he'd gotten more than a mile away.

Then somehow Seth had gotten wind of it, and decided that he just had to have Tommy's tobacco pouch. Tommy was trying to figure out why the hell Seth would have even the faintest interest in stopping them. Tommy knew exactly what would happen if Seth did get his tobacco pouch before Hep returned it.

Tommy had forgotten that Seth was primarily motivated by total chaos.

Seth, or more accurately, Seth's hired help, chased him around the country. He honestly wanted to meet up with Hep and get his damn pouch back, but somehow there was always a red-shirted scooterist waiting for him, or someone fouler, whenever he stopped. He'd tried to back track once, and wound up trying to evade a gang of 40 scooterists, which is harder than it sounds (at least until he could get onto a freeway and really get moving).

At one point, he'd even had to fight a Paul Bunyan statue, which thoroughly weirded him out and left him in a rotten mood for a couple days. He might have been in trouble, seeing as he was unarmed and much smaller than the statue, but it somehow managed to trip over its own feet and fall into a ravine. Then a tree fell on it. And caught fire. The whole thing was kind of odd.

Right now, he was sitting in a bar in New Mexico. The bar was pumping it's music so loud the speakers were distorting and he was surrounded by television sets every where he looked. There were plenty of windows, so it wasn't very dark inside, but at least he was able to see who was coming and going. He sat watching the windows and the front door, slowly drinking his beer. He had half of a sandwich that he would take a bite out of now and then. Mainly, he was wondering where the hell he could go next that might shake whoever was following him off his trail for longer than a day.

He decided that he'd head for Albuquerque and pick his next destination from there.

***

Too Tall, Brian, J.J. and the rest of the UTMC crew were stuck wandering around Lafayette. The motel was unpleasant enough that they didn't want to spend any time there during the day. The few that still had bikes had gone out looking for the rest earlier that morning, with no luck. Minerva and Athena spent their time alternately out looking for their bikes, and arguing about whether or not to just take a bus home.

All of them were hoping to see some of the guys who had stolen their bikes. Whether they still had them or not was only mildly relevant. Mostly they just wanted to kick their asses again, just on the principle of the thing.

The UTMC and the goddesses met up for lunch at a MacDonald's.

"I think we're going to take a bus home from here," Minvera told them.

"I think you're talking shit again," Athena said. "We never decided any such thing. We're going to find our bikes, beat the hell out of whoever has them, and catch up to Hep and the others."

The UTMCers listened, with varying degrees of patience, as the two argued again about whether or not to go home. Minerva felt that she was an artist, and should be back in the shop instead of out in the middle of nowhere looking to do battle with hicks and unfriendly deities.

Athena, on the other hand, thought that the best reason to stay was to do battle with hicks and unfriendly deities, not to mention helping out their friends. Also, Minerva was a gifted healer, and Athena thought she should stay just in case any one got hurt.

The UTMCers, meanwhile, knew exactly what they were going to do. They were going to find their bikes, and catch up to Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Jim as quickly as they could. They were a little annoyed at the goddesses' bickering.

"Ladies, you need to stay here. We'll all find our bikes and then go find Hep and the rest. Eventually the scooterists, or someone, is going to try and stop them, and at some point they are going to realize they'll have better luck with their ambushes if they start carrying weapons." Too Tall said.

Minerva and Athena stared at Too Tall. Athena looked pissed off, because this guy thought he could tell her what to do. Minerva looked embarrassed, because he'd reminded her (better than Athena could) that Hep and Scroat were in real danger, not to mention the rest of them if Seth somehow interfered with Tommy's myth.

"All right, we'll let's stop hanging around in this shitty burger joint and go find our damn bikes," Minerva said. Athena nodded, approvingly. Most of the UTMC crew were just relieved that the argument had stopped, at least temporarily. To be honest, those two argued a lot, and it was only a matter of time until something else set them off. Too Tall swore it was like watching siblings fight, just to annoy the other.

They left the restaurant, and started looking for their bikes again.

***

Hep, Scroat, Charlie, Dave and Jim were passing through San Antonio. Hep was mildly frustrated, because there's a whole lot of "biggest" things to see in Texas, as well as a huge variety of other odd roadside decoration (apart from the dead armadillos). They were on I10 and Hep was, momentarily, happy to see a muffler man statue. This one was wearing a white cowboy hat and holding what looked like... a lead pipe?

The Muffler Man stepped forward and swung the pipe, narrowly missing Hep but hitting Scroat squarely in the chest. Scroat went flying off of his bike and slid along the side of the freeway until he stopped roughly 80 feet away. His bike rolled on, riderless, until it left the road and caught in the loose gravel on the side of the road. It flipped over several times, and came to rest as a mangled, unrideable hunk of still running machinery.

"What the fuck?" Scroat yelled as he got up. "Buddy, you are about to be twenty flavors of dead shit sandwich." He started running at the giant cowboy.

Hep and Dave pulled over and started running back to help Scroat. Hep grabbed his hammer, and Charlie had his shillelagh and an extra baseball bat for Scroat.
Dave started digging through his bag.

Scroat was already busy throwing rocks at the giant cowboy's head, and dodging the swings and kicks the cowboy was throwing at him.

"Too slow to get me again, motherfucker!" Scroat laughed and threw another rock. It hit the cowboy in the ear.

"Dammit," the statue grunted, and swung it's pipe again at Scroat, who dodged it easily.

"Hey, Scroat!" Charlie yelled. "Here, hit him with this." Scroat looked, and Charlie tossed him the baseball bat. Scroat caught it, ran up, and swung the bat at the cowboy's ankle. It broke through the fiberglass easily, leaving a gaping hole in the statue's leg.

"Holy crap!" Scroat exclaimed.

"Dammit!" the statue yelled, and began to limp after Scroat again. Hep and Charlie ran up to the statue. Hep hit it's other ankle with his hammer. It tripped the statue up a bit, but didn't do anywhere near the damage that Scroat had done.

Dave had found what he was looking for, and ran back to where the rest were fighting. Scroat had gotten around to the other side of the cowboy, and hit him in the shin with the bat. Another hole opened up in the statue, and the cowboy bellowed in rage.

"Damn, this is some kind of heavy duty bat," Scroat said. "Hey Charlie, what the hell is this thing?"

"A Louisville Slugger," Charlie said as he banged on the cowboy's left foot with his shillelagh. He wasn't doing anywhere near the damage Scroat did, but it was definitely irritating the giant. He kicked at Charlie and made contact. Charlie went flying into the road, narrowly missing a family of tourists from Nebraska who couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"What is this country coming to? Vile hooligans," the woman in the car said to her husband.

Outside, Dave had gotten back to where Hep and the rest were fighting the cowboy. Dave lifted and took aim with what he'd gotten out of his bag, a black Smith & Wesson .38 Special. He fired six rounds into the cowboy's chest.

The giant cowboy stopped and looked confused for a moment. Right then, Jim appeared in front of his face. "Boo, shithead!" he said.

The cowboy swatted at Jim, but didn't make contact since Jim was a ghost. It was enough to throw the statue off it's balance, and it tumbled to the ground.

Scroat ran up and caved in the back of the giant cowboy's head with the bat. "Shit, I think we might have made twenty-five flavors of dead shit sandwich out of you, buddy. Well, you gotta take pride in what you do well, that's what I always say."

He turned around and looked to where his bike had landed. "Oh fuck!" he yelled. The hot exhaust had caught the grass underneath the bike on fire. The bike was still running.

"Shouldn't that thing have died by now?" Dave asked him.

"Nah, you can't kill that bike, just piss it off now and then." Scroat replied. Of course, for the time being it was a twisted, flaming (though still running) wreck. "So, buddy, are you going to give me a lift, or what?"

"Uh, I guess so," Dave said.

About ten minutes later, a man in a fedora drove past in a Corvette and wondered what the hell had happened to the cowboy statue on the side of the road. It looked like someone drove a bulldozer into it. He also saw Scroat's bike on the side of the road, wrecked. The fire had gone out, and the bike was still running.

"That's crazy," the man muttered to himself. He dug out his cell phone.

Hep, Scroat, Charlie, Dave and Jim rode on to El Paso, and stopped there for the night. Their ride to El Paso was entirely uneventful, and deathly boring. Texas is a big state, and there are huge chunks of long, straight, boring road. They seemed to have found the straightest and least interesting road in the entire country.

As such, they were glad to get to El Paso. They checked into a cruddy little motel and Scroat, Charlie and Dave tried to go to sleep right away. Hep gave Elvis a call and tried to find out where Tommy was.

"I don't rightly know," Elvis said. "I'll let you know when I hear from him, though."

"Great." Hep said.

After he got off the phone, Hep tried to go to sleep too. Just as he was dozing off, the phone rang. He picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" he asked, somewhat annoyed.

"Hep, it's Tommy."

"Hey, where the hell are you?" Hep asked.

"Albuquerque. I'm going to keep driving North tomorrow, and head into Colorado." Tommy said.

"Aww, you gotta be kidding me." Hep said.

"Nope. See ya later," Tommy said and hung up the phone.

"Dick," Hep muttered, and tried to go to sleep again. It took a long time, and he tossed and turned for a couple of hours. Albuquerque, and headed north, was not part of Hep's plan. He knew that Tommy was trying to evade the same folks that were after him. Hep also knew that there were more UTMCers in Denver who could help him out until the crew stranded in Lafayette could catch up.

Eventually, Hep fell asleep too, and slept deeply without dreaming.

Chapter 22

2006-11-17T09:32:00.000-08:00

Hep, Scroat, Charlie, Minerva, Athena and the rest stopped in Lafayette and called it a day. They found another crappy motel to stay in. The rooms smelled foul, and there were curious stains on the carpets. It was, however, reasonably remote and free from prying eyes.

They dumped their stuff in the rooms, and agreed the best course of action was to go out and avoid the motel for as long as possible.

They went out looking for a suitable tavern or other place to make their home for the evening. As they rode, Hep spotted a muffler man, only this particular muffler man was actually made out of mufflers and other exhaust components, instead of fiberglass. It was also actually outside of a muffler shop, and didn't look anything liked Paul Bunyan. Hep pulled in to check it out.

"Hey, what do you know, a big ol' shitty pile of scrap metal. Could you take us somewhere interesting now and then?" Scroat said.

"Sorry, peep shows creep me out," Hep shot back.

They were turning to leave when the muffler man looked down at them and said, "I've been expecting you."

The UTMCers had been talking to Minerva and Athena. They all stopped what they were doing to turn and look at the muffler man.

"Jeb? Is that you in there?" Hep asked.

"Yep."

"What the fuck do you want?" Scroat asked.

"I just have something to tell you," Jeb said.

Nearby, a man in a fedora was waiting in a brown Lincoln, watching. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The bikers were talking to a statue, and the statue was talking back. Unfortunately, they were too far away for him to hear their conversation. He dug out his cell phone and called his boss. She was going to want to know about this for sure.
***
Later the crew found a bar. It apparently didn't have a name, but there was a Pabst Blue Ribbon sign outside, so they knew it would be their kind of joint. They weren't disappointed.

Inside it was so dark they could barely see. The cigarette smoke was thick enough to make most people's eyes water, and the furniture, tables and bar were all either dark brown or black.

"Finally, someplace interesting!" Scroat exclaimed. "Bartender! Eight pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon!"

They found a table big enough to accommodate thirteen people and sat down. Most of the UTMC lit cigarettes, and Scroat broke out a cigar and lit it.

"Second hand smoke is bad for you, you know," Scroat said. "Better to get it first hand."

Soon the bartender brought their beer, and they proceeded to get themselves thoroughly drunk. Soon they were laughing it up with the regulars. Scroat tried flirting with Minerva and Athena, both at the same time, and nearly got himself knocked out.

Many pitchers of beer later, they were spread out all over the bar having private, if rowdy, conversations with a wide assortment of people. Hep was having a good time talking to one of the regulars who happened to be a welder. He claimed to be the best welder in the United States. Hep doubted that, as he was pretty sure he was a better welder than this man, but the regular's way of boasting was entertaining enough that Hep went along with it.

"What the fuck was that?" Scroat shouted, and shoved the man he'd been talking to away. "He just tried to pick my pocket!" Hep checked his own pockets. Tommy's tobacco pouch was still there.

The mood in the bar had suddenly gotten hostile. One of the patrons took a wild swing at Charlie, and so the brawl began. In a matter of seconds it was a free for all, as the regulars weren't about to stand for some tourist calling their own a thief, and Hep's crew weren't about to let that kind of thing stand.

Scroat had grabbed a pool cue and was swinging it vigorously at anyone who moved in his vicinity. Fortunately, none of the UTMCers were nearby.
Minerva tried to stay out of the way, but Athena jumped into the fray with a joyous yell and began thumping skulls left and right. She had a sudden and distinct advantage, as none of the locals wanted to have to admit that they'd gotten their asses whooped by a girl.

Someone tried to hit Hep from behind with a chair, but Jim appeared in front of him and yelled "Booga booga booga, ya swamp-dwelling hick!" The man dropped the chair and ran.

"Thanks," Hep said, then turned back and resumed punching and shoving aside everyone that came at him.

Soon the bar was mostly empty, and of the people in the bar only the UTMCers and gods (and Jim and the bartender) were still standing.

Outside, they heard motorcycles riding away.

"Holy shit! Our bikes!" Dave yelled. They ran outside to see tail lights fading away. The only bikes that were still there were Hep's, Scroat's and a couple of the rattier UTMC bikes.

"My duc! Those bastards stole my duc!" Charlie yelled. "Oh, they are twenty varieties of dead when I find them."

They sat outside in the mostly-empty parking lot waiting to sober up. For the most part, they were silent, except for the occasional curse or exclamation of "those bastards." Around five in the morning they were finally sober, and those who still had bikes ferried those whose bikes had been stolen back to the motel.

The man in the Lincoln dug out his cell phone again to call his boss.
***
The next morning, Hep and Scroat figured out the logistics for the immediate future. They decided that Charlie would ride in Hep's sidecar. Dave was going to borrow Too Tall's bike and ride along with them. The rest would stay behind and try to figure out a way to catch up, or get home.

They said their goodbyes, and departed. They continued west.
***
"So what have you got to tell us, then, Jeb?" Hep had asked.

"One of the people in your party is a spy for us. You can't evade us." Jeb told him.

"Bullshit. You're trying to freak us out and get us to split up." Hep said.

"Believe what you want. We're going to get Tommy's tobacco pouch either way." Jeb said.

"Jeb, you're so full of shit we could smell you two states away," Scroat said. "Now, about that money you owe me..."

Between the thirteen of them, they were able to pull the muffler man statue apart in thirty seconds.
***
Hep, Scroat, Charlie, Jim and Dave stopped in Houston to have lunch and regroup a bit. They went to another barbeque restaurant. Hep had the best beef brisket he'd ever had. While they were eating, the waitress came over to their table.

"I have a phone call at the bar for Hep," she said.

"Hmm. Ok," Hep said. He went with her to the bar and picked up the phone the bartender gave him. "Hello?" he asked.

“Hey Hep,” Tommy said.

“Hey, where are you?” Hep asked.

“Right now I’m in El Paso. I’m going to keep heading west for now,” Tommy said.

“Are you ever going to stop so we can catch up to you?”

“Hey, I’ll stop when Seth’s goons stop harassing me. Tommy said.

“What ever. Stay out of trouble, Tommy.” Hep said, and hung up the phone.

He went back to the table and told Scroat and Charlie where Tommy was, and that he was still heading west.

“Great,” Charlie said. “So how long until we hit the west coast and head north? I bet we can circle the whole country two or three times before he gets tired.”

Chapter 21

2006-11-15T20:31:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-15T11:13:00.000-08:00

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.

Chapter 19

2006-11-13T21:05:00.000-08:00

Hep dreamt he was at home, at his kitchen table. Tommy sat across from him.

"Hey buddy," Tommy said. "Heard Scroat blew your chances with a catholic school girl."

"No, he just offended an old nun," Hep replied.

"Too bad. The school girls are more fun," Tommy said, and laughed.

"You just aren't right in the head," Hep replied.

"Nope. But can you really say that you are?" Tommy asked.

"I can always rest assured that I'm not as fucked up as you are," Hep said.

Tommy laughed again, sat back and lit a cigarette.

"So where are you, Tommy? I'm getting pretty sick of playing courier," Hep said.

"Right now, I'm in Tallahassee. I'm going to start heading west though. Right now I'm barely two steps ahead of Seth and his flunkies," Tommy said. He took a big drag off his cigarette and exhaled slowly.

"So, how are you guys doing? I see you've ditched the mortals and picked up a couple of godly cuties," Tommy said.

"We haven't ditched anyone. The UTMC crew is going to catch up with us again soon. And the godly cuties can hold their own as well as we can," Hep said.

"I guess you'll find out. Say hi to the rest of your crew for me," Tommy said. He took another big drag off his cigarette and exhaled. The smoke enveloped him, and he disappeared.
"You're a tool, Tommy," Hep said.

***

Hep woke up the next morning in yet another motel and saw Charlie standing by the window, looking out. It looked like Scroat was still asleep.

"Hey," Hep said quietly.

"Hey, Hep," Charlie said.

Hep got out of bed and walked over to the window. "Anything interesting out there?"

"Not yet." Charlie said.

"Are you expecting something?" Hep asked.

"Always," Charlie said, "but today I've just got a weird feeling. Like we narrowly avoided something we weren't even aware of."

"Well, you've always been kind of paranoid," Hep said, and slapped Charlie on the back. He walked over to the kitchenette and started making some coffee.

"Paranoid people live longer, with more remaining limbs," Charlie said.

When the coffee was done, Hep poured himself a cup, then poured a cup for Charlie. He brought both cups back over to the window.

"So where to next, chief?" Charlie asked.

"I think our best bet will be Atlanta." Hep said. "Tommy says he's heading west now."

"Man, can't he just hole up and stay low-key like anyone else would?" Charlie said.

"Well, nothing pisses off your enemy more than a moving target," Hep said.

Hep finished his coffee and looked at the clock. Time to wake up Scroat.

***

Minerva and Athena heard Scroat yell "You nun-grabbing bag of festering shit!" through their wall. They hurried next door, to see what happened.

When they got in the room, they saw Hep, Scroat and Charlie sitting drinking coffee.

"What the hell was all the yelling?" Minerva asked.

"Just Scroat's wake up call," Hep said, with a straight face.

"Right. Ok, so how about some coffee?" Athena asked.
"Help yourself," Hep said.

Since they were all together, Hep told them the plan to go to Atlanta next. He explained that Tommy was heading west for the time being. He hoped that by going southwest, they'd be able to catch him before he got too far.

They went out and loaded up their bikes. In a matter of minutes they were on their way out of Durham. On the side of the road, Hep saw Sister Agnes hitchhiking again. He pulled over.

"Sorry about Scroat last night. His mouth gets away from him," Hep said. Sister Agnes looked unimpressed.

Hep continued, "We're on our way to Atlanta; I can give you a lift to Charlotte if you'd like."

"No thanks, I think I'll take my chances with a different batch of crazies this time. God bless." Sister Agnes said, and walked away.

Hep shrugged and turned back on to the road. He sped up to catch up with the rest of the gang, who hadn't pulled over with him when they saw it was the nun again.

***

The UTMC crew was riding south very quickly. They moved through traffic like a swarm of leather-clad hornets. While at a gas station in Durham (their location was a complete coincidence), Dave heard something that sounded kind of like a shopping cart rattling towards him. He turned to look, and saw a bird-like man riding a bicycle with no front tire towards him.

"Dave?" the man said.

"That's me."

"Hep and his friends are on their way to Atlanta. You just missed them," the man said.

"No shit? Thanks buddy," Dave said. "You know, that bike would be a lot easier to ride if it had a front tire on there."

"The noise scares spirits away. That's more important. Have a good day," the man said, and pedaled away.

The UTMCers left Durham. On their way out of town, Dave spotted a nun on the side of the road, hitchhiking. He pulled over and asked her if she needed a ride. The rest of the UTMC crew rolled in behind him. The nun looked at the dusty, greasy band of bikers in shock.

"Me and my big mouth," Sister Agnes muttered to herself. "Yes, I'm going to Charlotte," she said to Dave.

"Well, hop on," Dave said. She got on, and they got moving towards Charlotte. Sister Agnes quickly wished that she'd just sucked it up and ridden with Hep. Dave and his band of motorcycle crazies were riding so fast that she finally just squeezed her eyes shut and held on tightly to Dave's jacket.

***

Hep and the rest of his crew stopped in Charlotte to have a bite to eat. They were sitting outside at a MacDonald's, far away from any Ronald statues this time.

In the distance, and getting louder quickly, they heard a large group of motorcycles. Soon Charlie spotted Dave and the UTMC crew at a stoplight nearby. He stood up and walked closer to the street, and started waving his arms over his head.

Dave spotted him, and waved back quickly. When the light changed, they all pulled into the parking lot.

Sister Agnes saw Hep and Scroat, and exclaimed "Can't I get away from you people?" and walked off in a huff.

Dave watched her go. "Some gratitude," he said. "Hi guys! How've you been?"

"Not bad," Hep said. He pointed to Minerva and Athena, "Dave, this is Minerva and Athena. Ladies, Dave and the Uniformly Terrific Motorcycle Crazies."

The UTMC crew all introduced themselves, and then a couple of them went into the restaurant to get some burgers for the group.

Once they had all eaten, they rolled out en masse and rode towards Atlanta.

***

Jeb found himself back in the cave. It was still unpleasant, but at least his neck wasn't broken any more. For now, at least.

"Jeb, you disappoint me. I gave you such a simple task. All you had to do was stay with the motorcyclists and let me know when they caught up with Hep," Seth said.

"Well, I am a god of bad luck," Jeb said petulantly.

"I'm sorry, perhaps you forgot who is working for who in this relationship. Allow me to refresh your memory," Seth said.

Pain ripped through Jeb's body. He was lifted off the floor and thrown into the air. He landed and was impaled on a stalagmite. He twitched and clawed at the spike protruding from his stomach.

"Oh my, that was rather bad luck indeed," Seth said.

"I should have just figured out a way to pay Scroat back," Jeb said to himself.

"What's that?" Seth asked.

"Nothing." Jeb said.

"Good," Seth replied. "I think I'll leave you in here for a while, to think about what we talked about. See you in a week or so."

Seth left the cave. Jeb moaned to himself.

***

Hep, Scroat, Charlie, Jim, Minerva, Athena, Dave and the rest of the UTMCers rode swiftly towards Atlanta. Minerva and Athena had a hard time adjusting to Dave's crew and their need to stop for gas on a regular basis. Just like Hep and Scroat, their bikes never needed maintenance.

They stopped in Hartwell, Georgia, because Scroat - of all of them - wanted to see the Center of The World. He was disappointed when he got there to find that it was not, in fact, the landmark mentioned in another book about roadtripping gods that he had enjoyed. No, this Center of the World was the Cherokee Indian equivalent to saying "All roads lead to Rome."

"I guess I'm rubbing off on you, eh?" Hep said to Scroat.

"You'd better not. That's fucking disgusting, you sick monkey," Scroat replied.

They mounted up again and rolled on towards Atlanta.

Chapter 18

2006-11-13T19:22:00.000-08:00

Hep, Scroat, Charlie and Jim rode south into Maryland. It took roughly an hour for them to get there, and they spent an hour or so riding around as Hep tried to get his bearings. He knew some folks in Baltimore that could help them out.

After an hour and a half, Hep finally gave up and pulled in to use a payphone. Across the street was a graphics company with a gigantic fiberglass pineapple on the roof.

For once, the fiberglass statue wasn't watching them.

Hep put a couple coins into the payphone, and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper with some phone numbers on it. He found the number he was looking for, and dialed.

"Hi Minerva, it's Hep," he said, and listened for a moment. "Yeah, we got ourselves into a bit of shit."

Hep talked to Minerva for a few minutes, and got directions to her shop. He thanked her, and hung up.

"So who are we here to see?" Charlie asked.

"Well, Minerva. And Athena. I understand they build pipe organs now." Hep said.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Scroat said. "Pipe organs?"

"Yeah. After all, if you're going to build musical instruments, you might as well build really, really big ones." Hep said.

They rode off, and arrived at the shop about twenty minutes later. A discrete sign on the building told them that it was home to "Beatific Organ Co."

"Kind of a girly name," Charlie quipped.

"Don't let either of them hear you say that," Hep said. "Athena is fond of finding creative ways to dismember smart asses."

They went inside. Athena and Minerva were waiting to greet them in the lobby. Hep and Scroat said hello, then Hep introduced Charlie and Jim.

"Well, you guys dropped in at the right time. Our current opus is on hold, pending funding." Minerva said.

"We mostly sell organs to churches. Every now and then, they have trouble coming up with the cash, and we have to wait for them," Athena said.

"I bet some of those holy rollers would pop a vein if they knew who you two really are." Hep said.

"Doubtless," Minerva said, and smiled. "Well, come in, we'll show you our factory."

Minerva and Athena led the four through an office that was only remarkable because of the detailed drawings of pipe organs strewn around the room. They went through a double door and onto the factory floor.

There they were immediately dwarfed by a rank of bass pipes, easily twenty feet tall. They walked around that rank, and were able to see several organs in varying stages of completion.

"We've got three projects underway right now for paying customers, two that are on hold, and one organ that we're working on as a showpiece for our factory." Athena told them.

"I had no idea there was such a big market." Hep said.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you," Minerva said. "Of course, it takes a long time to make a sale. A pipe organ isn't exactly an impulse purchase."

"Well, there was that one.." Athena started.

"...But that's hardly the norm," Minerva finished.

In another room, they heard someone sounding a particular note, seemingly at random intervals.

"Steve is rough tuning some of the pipes right now. Shall we adjourn to our office?" Minerva asked.

"Yes, let's do." Hep replied.

Minerva led them into her office, while Athena stayed in the shop and went back to work on one of the organs. She sat behind her desk, while Hep, Scroat and Charlie found chairs. Jim couldn't resist and went back out to the factory.

"So, the word on the street is that you guys are trying to unmake the world, in a roundabout way," Minerva said.

"No, no, we're trying to save the world in a roundabout way," Hep said. "And to be honest, we're just trying to return Tommy's tobacco pouch. All the threats of chaos-plunging and world-ending are from Seth."

"He was always sort of a jerk," Minerva said. "So, what brings you to our humble workshop?"

"I was hoping you and Athena might ride with us, at least for a while. Two of the gentlemen who were accompanying us got kidnapped, and the rest of their group went to look for them. So for the time being we could use an extra person or two. Just in case something goes down." Hep said.

"What makes you think we'll leave the shop and abandon our business for an undetermined length of time?" Minerva asked.

"Well, I'm guessing neither of you have gotten to righteously smite anyone for a while. Especially if most of your social contacts are priests. So far, there have been ample opportunities for smiting, and I expect there will be many more in the next several days. Also, last I checked, you weren't too keen on the end of the world. At least, just yet," Hep said.

"You can be so persuasive when you want to be," Minerva said.

"Stop that, please," she said to Scroat, who was fiddling with a detailed scale model of a pipe organ. "I haven't closed the sale for that organ yet." Scroat set the model back down and starting twiddling his thumbs.

Minerva sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, silent for a moment. "All right, we'll come with."

"Aren't you going to check with Athena?" Scroat asked.

"She's already got our bikes ready to go. We heard you were heading this way a couple days ago." Minerva said, and smiled.

They went out to the shop again, and saw that Athena was already in her leathers, rolling the bikes out the large doors in the back of the shop. They had a matching pair of black Harley-Davidson softails.

Athena came back in and closed the garage door, "So are we ready to go, or what?"

***

Dave and the UTMC crew were headed south, riding double-time to catch up with Hep and the guys. Jeb was still on the back of Dave's bike.

Dave was thinking hard about Jeb and the oddity of their experience in the cave. He was puzzled over how easy it was for them to get away. He had expected some kind of resistance, but they were able to get in and out without so much as tripping over a pile of tin cans. He had a hard time believing that Seth was so sloppy. That meant that either Seth got all the information he needed from another source, or that the passenger behind him was still in league with Seth.

He knew that folks like Hep and Scroat could and would suffer through a hell of a lot more than most people in order to achieve an end. He assumed that, like Hep and Scroat, Jeb was a god of some sort, or some kind of extra-human being, at any rate. He was certain that no mortal could keep living with his head twisted that far around.

Dave decided that they should head further east than he knew Hep was going, and see if trouble cropped up around them. If so, Jeb got the boot. If not, they could catch up with everyone else easily enough.

He led the UTCM crew into Delaware.

***

Hep, Scroat, Charlie, Jim, Minerva and Athena were heading south. They'd decided they would stop for the day in Durham, North Carolina.

As they rode through VA, the number of military memorials and monuments impressed them. They didn't stop at any of the memorials, or places where history happened, however. All of them had seen enough war remnants, and they were worried that if they stopped, Virginia might become the site of even more heavy history.

Just before they crossed the border into North Carolina, Hep saw a hitchhiker on the side of the road. As they got closer, he was shocked to see that it was a nun in a traditional habit. He pulled in and stopped, and the rest of the group pulled over behind him.

"Hi there, sister, where are you headed?" Hep asked.
"I'm trying to get to Charlotte," the nun said.

"Well, we're headed as far as Durham tonight. Want a lift?" Hep asked.

The nun looked around at the group. They looked like a dangerous bunch, but she didn't think they looked malicious.

"Yes, please. I'd love a ride," the nun said.

"Well, let me clear some room for you in the sidecar here," Hep said. In reality, there was plenty of room in the sidecar, but he wanted to give Jim an opportunity to move. Jim took the opportunity, as he thought occupying the same space as a nun would just be... weird. He moved to sit behind Hep.

"Thank you," the nun said. "My name is Sister Agnes."

"Your welcome, Sister. I'm Hep, that's Scroat, Charlie, Athena and Minerva," Hep said. He finished rummaging through the sidecar. "There, hop in."

Sister Agnes got in, and Hep pulled back onto the road.

***

They arrived in Durham, and Hep offered to buy Sister Agnes dinner. They ate at a place called Elmo's Diner. They ate, and talked among themselves. At one point during the dinner, Scroat turned to the nun.

"Sister, I'd like to talk to you about sin," he said.

Sister Agnes was mildly surprised. "Of course, what about sin specifically do you want to talk about?"

"Well, it seems to me that you nuns try to live a sin-free life," Scroat said.

"Well, yes," the nun said.

"Doesn't it get kind of boring?" Scroat asked.

"Certainly not, I am happy to spend my life in the Lord's service," the nun replied.

"Well, it seems to me that a major foundation of the church is forgiveness and redemption from sin," Scroat said.

"Yes?" Sister Agnes replied, somewhat wary.

"Well, in order for my sins to be forgiven, I'd need to sin, right?" Scroat asked.

"Umm, well.." Sister Agnes started.
"And since forgiveness is a pillar of the faith, it seems to me that sinning is fact vital to the continuation of your religion," Scroat continued.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say," Sister Agnes said.

"Well, what I'm saying is that sinning is vital to redemption, and therefore, sin is holy. Right?" Scroat said.

"Well, no that's not the..." she started to say.

"It is therefore my opinion that we should all go and get extremely fucking drunk, and find someone to have crazy, filthy, anonymous sex with in a tub full of baked beans, while there's still time. In order to get closer to God," Scroat concluded, with a smug smile.

It took a moment for Sister Agnes to process what Scroat had just said, because she couldn't believe what she just heard. She stood up, turned to Hep and thanked him kindly for dinner.

Then she turned back to Scroat and said, "I shall pray for you," and left the restaurant.

"Hey! Pray that I find a particularly hot piece of ass would ya? I haven't had a good fuck in weeks, it seems!" Scroat called after her.

Hep slapped him Scroat upside the head.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Scroat asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"Because that was just a dick move. She was just a sweet old lady." Hep said.

"Well, if I'd known you were going to get all butt-hurt about it, I would have kept my mouth shut. Though, you know, she's a nun. There's no way she was just a sweet old lady." Scroat said.

"Whatever. You're still a dick." Hep said.

***

Dave and the UTMCers stopped in Greensboro. They checked in to a cheap motel, and a couple of them ran to a nearby grocery store to get some cold cuts, bread and beer.

Dave helped Jeb into a room, and told him they'd be back in a bit, and that Hep would be meeting them there shortly. Then he gathered the rest of the crew and they went to gas up their bikes. Then they headed to the grocery store to meet the others. Once they were well stocked with food and beer, they headed to a nearby park to wait for about an hour.

Dave and Too Tall walked back to the motel to see if anything weird was happening there. Dave was mildly dismayed to see a group of fifty or so scooterists in red shirts hanging out in the parking lot of the motel.

"Crap. Well, now we know how we got away so easily the other day," Dave said. "Let's get out of here."

***

The UTMCers were well on their way to Virginia by the time Jeb realized that they weren't coming back, and that Hep and the rest probably weren't coming to meet them.

"Ooooh," he moaned, "this is not good."

Chapter 17

2006-11-11T21:10:00.000-08:00

When they'd discovered that J.J. and Brian were missing, they all went out looking for them, expecting to find them sitting nearby drinking out of one of the cases of beer they'd bought.

They were extremely concerned, then, when they couldn't find them anywhere.

***

J.J. and Brian's eyes had slowly adjusted to the dark. Nearby something, or someone, was moaning. Brian had asked who was there in the dark with them, but the only response was more moaning.

"Where the hell do you think we are?" J.J. asked Brian.

"Fucked if I know," Brian said.

***

Hep, Scroat and Charlie were walking through York, looking for something, anything, that would tell them where J.J. and Brian had gotten to. Dave and the rest of the UTMC crew were walking through the other side of town. Jim stayed in the hotel, watching for anything weird.

The three stopped on a corner to get their bearings and rest for a minute. Scroat lit a cigar and leaned up against a building. Hep sat down on the curb. Charlie just stood with his hands on his hips.

"So I guess that Seth probably got them somehow, huh?" Charlie said.

"Probably." Hep said.

"And we're probably going to have to go find where he's stashed them, huh?" Charlie said.

"No, that's what he's hoping we'll do. Why should he chase us if he can get us to bring Tommy's tobacco pouch to him?" Hep said.

"Yeah, but we can't just fucking leave those guys with Seth." Scroat said.

"We aren't. Dave and his crew have dealt with some pretty nasty customers before this. They'll go find them." Hep said.
"Are you fucking joking?" Scroat asked. "Then it'll just be you, me, Charlie and Jim against Seth and whoever he has working for him."

"Yep." Hep said. "But we have also dealt with some pretty nasty customers before this."

In the distance, Hep heard something like a shopping cart. It was coming their way, getting louder and louder.

"What in the name of fuck is that awful racket?" Scroat asked. Pretty soon, the answer became clear as a weird, bird-like man on a bicycle with no front wheel came around the corner. He stopped in front of Hep.

"Hep. Elvis sent me," the man said.

"I figured. What have you got to tell me, friend?" Hep said.

"Seth doesn't know where you are yet. Scooterists found the bikers, and took them to Seth. Get moving before they see you. Have a good day," the man said, and began riding off again.

"Thanks." Hep said, and stood up.

"Well guys, you heard him, we'd better get moving," he said to Scroat and Charlie.

***

Back at the hotel, Jim was waiting, invisible, outside the main doors. He saw a couple of guys on Vespas in red shirts ride by. One of them saw all the bikes outside the hotel and motioned to the other to stop. They pulled into the parking lot and examined the motorcycles, then quickly started to take off.

Jim knew they couldn't be up to any good, and picked up a couple of good sized rocks and chucked them at the scooterists' heads. Luckily, Jim's aim was pretty good, and he managed to knock both of them out before they got out of the parking lot. He was barely able to drag them behind the bikes, so they weren't visible from the road. He couldn't move their scooters, so he just threw a tarp over them and hoped that the guys would get back soon.

After a few minutes, one of the red shirts stirred, and muttered "what the fuck?" Jim promptly hit him with another rock.

***

Dave and the UTMCers were the first to get back. Jim materialized by Dave, eager to tell him what had happened.

"Fuck, man, you gotta be careful with that 'now you see me, now you don't' shit. You could scare a guy." Dave said to Jim.

"Whatever," Jim said. "You gotta come see this." He led him over to where the scooterists were sprawled. One of the guys on the ground was twitching his foot, so Jim hit him with another rock.

"Nicely handled," Dave said to Jim. "Hey Too Tall! Get over here with some rope."

Too Tall brought the rope, and they tied the red shirts together, then dragged them into the woods behind the hotel. A couple of the other guys picked up their scooters and rolled them into the woods next to the scooterists. They wrapped the riders up with the tarp, to help keep them warm.

"No need to be barbaric," Dave said as Jim gave him a puzzled look.

Hep, Scroat and Charlie came over to see what was going on when they got back.

"Well, these must be the guys that found J.J. and Brian," Hep said.

"Do you think we should ask them some questions?" Charlie asked.

"Nah, Seth wouldn't give them any more information than what they need." Hep said.

One of the red shirts croaked "Mom?"

Jim promptly hit him with a rock.

"I think you're starting to enjoy that a bit too much, Jim," Dave said.

***

In the dark, J.J. and Brian heard a voice.

"Gentlemen, welcome." Seth said. "I trust you know who I am."

J.J. and Brian remained silent. They squinted to see who was walking to them, but all they could make out was a man's silhouette.

"No? Well, you can call me Seth. All you need to know about me is that I can make things very, very uncomfortable for you if you annoy me. Just ask that heap on the floor over there." He gestured towards where the moans were coming from.

"Now then, what can you tell me about your destination?" Seth asked.

***

Hep, Scroat and Charlie packed their bags quickly, and loaded up their bikes. Dave and the UTMC crew, meanwhile, were waiting near the scooterists, to be sure they didn't actually see Hep and Scroat.
As the three started their bikes, Dave walked over quickly. He shook Hep's hand.

"We'll catch up with you as soon as you can," Dave said. We're going to see if we can get these guys to tell us where J.J. and Brian are, and then go find them. Be careful out there."

"You too," Hep said. "See you soon."

"Later, gents!" Dave called to Scroat, Charlie and Jim. They waved back, and then they rode off. They got out of York, and started heading south.

***

J.J. and Brian were on the floor, bruised and hurting, but essentially ok. They hadn't been particularly cooperative, Seth had gotten annoyed, and he had certainly made things uncomfortable for them. They hadn't said a word yet.

"Perhaps a night in the dark, with the rats, will persuade you. Good night, gentlemen," Seth said, and blew out the remaining candle. They heard him walking away, and then silence.

Their cave-mate resumed his moaning.

"You ok, Brian?"

"Yeah. You?" Brian asked.

"I think so." J.J. answered. They resumed their silence, and whoever was in the cave kept moaning. After ten minutes - or an hour, who knew? - J.J. couldn't take anymore of the moaning.

"Hey pal, what happened to you?" J.J. asked.

"Broken. Neck," was the gasped response.

"Jesus. What are you doing here?"

"Not Jesus. Angered Seth."

"How are you even alive with a broken neck in this cave?" J.J. asked

There was no answer, just moaning again. J.J. contemplating hitting whoever it was with a rock and shutting him up, but then he remembered that Seth had mentioned rats. The moaning might be keeping them away for now.

"Have you got a name, pal?" J.J. asked.

"Jeb," was the reply.

***

Scooterist Number One slowly came to his senses. Where the hell was he? Why couldn't he move?

He gradually realized that he was on the ground, and seemed to be tied up. It was dark out. How had he gotten there? He couldn't remember. The last thing he did remember was seeing a bunch of bikes. A couple of them seemed familiar from the description he'd gotten about the gang that had beaten up his buddies in Indiana. He and some of the other red shirts had just found two of that gang, and brought them to their new boss.

He focused his eyes. Six inches away was Dave's face.

"Hello there, sleepyhead." Dave said in a completely calm, and completely menacing tone.

"Hurr?" was Scooterist Number One's response.

"Yes, I'm sure you're surprised to see me. I wasn't expecting to see you either. Small world isn't it?" Dave said.

"Grah?" was the reply.

"Damn, how many rocks to the head do you think this guy got?" Dave asked one of the guys nearby. "Remind me to tell Jim to be a little more gentle next time around."

"Mmmmmerp."

"Yeah, I bet. Look, I've got some nice aspirin here, and a pocket knife to cut you loose with. And your scooters are right over there, waiting for you. All you need to do is tell me where my friends are, and we can each go our merry way. Sounds nice, doesn't it? So what do you say?"

"Rrumm!"

"Shit, this is going to take a while." Dave mumbled to himself. He sat back. "It's ok pal, when you're ready to talk, we'll talk. Do you want some water?"

Scooterist Number One nodded vigorously.

"Hey Too Tall, bring our man here some water. And a straw, I guess." Dave said.

Too Tall brought a bottle of water, and Scooterist Number One drank most of it.

"Better?" Dave asked.

"Gah!" Scooterist Number One nodded.
Pretty soon Scooterist Number Two came around as well.

"Where the fuck am I?" Scooterist Number Two asked. Dave stood up and walked around to face him.

"You're tied up with your pal here. If you can tell me where our friends are, we'll cut you loose, and give you some aspirin to boot. I bet your head is killing you right now," Dave said.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, let us go." Scooterist Number Two said.

"No, I don't think that's going to happen," Dave said. "Maybe we'll just come back in a couple hours and see if you want to talk then. Stay comfy." Dave stood up and started walking away.

"No, wait!" Scooterist Number One said.

"Hey, he speaks!" Dave said. "Have you got something you want to tell us?"

"We took them to our boss." Scooterist Number One said.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Scooterist Number Two said.

"Who's your boss?" Dave asked.

"Seth." Scooterist Number One said.

"SHUT UP!" Scooterist Number Two said.

"Seth who?"

"Dunno. Just Seth."

"Ok. I tell you what, I'm going to cut you guys loose. Then, you're going to show us how to get to our friends. Then, we're going to give you some aspirin and we'll all go our separate ways. Sound good?"

"Sure!" Scooterist Number One said.

"Fuck no!" Scooterist Number Two said.

"Well, we could always knock you out again. There are plenty of rocks around here." Dave said to Scooterist Number Two.

"..." Scooterist Number Two said.
"I agree, my way is the best way to go." Dave pulled out his pocket knife and cut them free. "Get on those scooters, and lead us to our friends."

Scooterists One and Two got on their Vespas and waited for the UTMC crew to get their bikes running. Then they took off, leading them out into country. They cut off road, and led them down near a stream. There they stopped and pointed out an opening in the hillside.

"They're down there. There's a rope that will lead you to the chamber they're in." Scooterist Number One said. Scooterist Number Two just glared at Number One and said nothing.

"Thanks, pal." Dave said, and tossed Scooterist Number One a bottle of Excedrin. "Keep the change."

The two scooterists quickly rode off, leaving them in the dark.

"Well, into the cave then, eh?" Dave said. The crew all disappeared into the hole in the hill.

***

"So, uh, want to play twenty questions?" J.J. asked Brian.

"Not really." Brian answered.

"Well, fuck, talk to me or something. Jeb's constant moaning is freaking me out in the dark."

"What do you want to talk ab... hey, do you hear that?" Brian asked. They both listened carefully, and even Jeb was quiet for a moment, listening. It sounded like footsteps. Lots of footsteps.

Soon, they saw a light, slowly getting brighter, and shortly after that Dave came into the room.

"Hey guys, you ok?" Dave said. The rest of the crew filed into the room.

"Mostly. Damn am I glad to see you guys." J.J. said. "Let's get out of here."

"Sounds good," Dave looked around a bit, and then saw Jeb. "Who's that guy?"

"Jeb. I'm pretty sure he's the guy that threw a giant hot dog at us."

Dave raised an eyebrow. "Really? Man, what's he doing down here?"

"I guess he pissed Seth off somehow. His neck is broken." J.J. said.

"No kidding? Man, that's gotta suck. Well, I guess we'd better bring him too." Dave said.

"Are you kidding? He's working for Seth!" Too Tall said.

"Yeah, well, Seth apparently broke his neck and left him in a cave. I doubt he's feeling especially loyal to Seth right now. Besides, love thy enemy, right?" Dave said.

"I guess," Too Tall said. He and Brian picked up Jeb and they dragged him out of the cave. Jeb was looking off to one side at an impossible angle.

"Man, that's creeping me out," Too Tall said.

They all got outside, and got back on their bikes to go back to the hotel and get J.J and Brian's bikes. Jeb rode bitch behind Dave. J.J. and Brian rode with a couple of the other guys.

"Don't do anything funny, and don't fall off. Got it?" Dave said to Jeb.

Jeb moaned in the affirmative.

"Tally ho!" Dave said, and took off.

Chapter 16

2006-11-10T21:45:00.000-08:00

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.

Chapter 15

2006-11-09T22:41:00.000-08:00

Hep woke up to the sound of churning and bubbling. As his synapses slowly started to fire again, he noticed the smell of coffee. Maybe it wasn't going to be such a bad day.

Then he noticed Scroat was out of bed already and hanging out near the coffee maker.

"Morning." Hep said. "What are you doing up already?"

"Those cheese-dicked scooterists beat up a little more than I thought last night. I couldn't stand to be in bed any longer, since there wasn't a comfy way to lay there." Scroat answered.

The coffee pot stopped making all that noise, and Scroat poured himself a cup right away. "You want some?" He asked Hep.

"Please." Hep said, and stretched. He noticed he was pretty sore too, but taking on ten attackers was always a bit of a work out.

"Awwww, shit." Charlie said as he woke up. "Are we getting old or something? I guess it's been a while since I've gone clubbing." Hep and Scroat winced at his pun.

"Man, we should pour some of that coffee on the floor in here, and cover up the wet dog smell." Charlie said.

As they each took their turn in the bathroom, the phone rang again. Hep answered it.

"Hey Hep. I've got some good news. Seth's boys didn't catch Tommy. The slippery S.O.B. must have caught wind of them, and he split. I don't know where he is, but he's probably headed further East." Elvis told him.

"Good to know. Have you heard anything else?" Hep asked.

"Nothing important, though I hear that campground you stayed at has a new "No Motorcycles" rule. I guess you guys caused quite a ruckus." Elvis told him.

"Caused nothing! We just finished it." Hep said. "Thanks for the update, Elvis."

Hep hung up the phone. He wondered where Tommy could be headed. Tommy didn't really have too many friends left on the East Coast, although to be honest he didn't have many friends left period. Hep guessed that he might be hoping to blend in with the crowds in New York City, or Washington D.C., but he knew there was really no telling where the heck Tommy might be going.

Once they were all ready, they trooped down to the breakfast buffet with the UTMC crew. The old folks and business travelers were visibly disturbed by the intrusion of a gang of leather-wearing, exhaust-smelling, greasy-looking bikers, but they all managed to eat in peace. Thankfully, the coffee was drinkable, and the food wasn't too bad.

As they left, one of the old men stopped Hep and asked, "Are you one of them outlaw motorcycle gangs?"

Hep smiled, "No sir, we're just a couple of friendly local deities, on our way to rescue a friend in danger of losing his reality and plunging the world into total chaos."

The old man sputtered "W-what?"

Hep continued, "These gentlemen are our traveling companions and friends, and I'm sure they'd be disturbed to know the locals think they're outlaws. They're all fine, upstanding, tax-paying citizens, just like you. They can't stand those outlaws. They might have a little more piss and vinegar in them than most young men, but when you've battled the legions of hell and elsewhere, and come out victorious, well, you get a little exuberant at times."

The old man gasped, "The legions of what?"

Hep smiled. "You and your wife have a nice day," he said.

***

The crew rode east, into Ohio.

***

Hep first met Tommy shortly after he and Scroat had gotten to America. They were exploring the Midwest, and Tommy came to where they were camped and introduced himself. Naturally, they invited him to stay and eat with them.

Tommy was an entertaining guy, and they had a great time talking with him that night. He took his leave of them after the moon had set. Hep and Scroat started to go to sleep when Hep noticed that Tommy had left his tobacco pouch behind. He tossed it to Scroat, and told him to run after Tommy and give it back.

Scroat did, and when he got there, Tommy invited both of them to his home for dinner. Scroat naturally accepted the invitation.

What neither he nor Hep knew was that Tommy's hut was a three day hike to reach. They got there, and Tommy did his best to be a gracious host. Unfortunately, everything went wrong. Animals had stolen the food he'd set aside. He had trouble getting a fire going, and smoked them all out of the hut. Then it started pouring rain.

Hep and Scroat were, of course, grateful for Tommy's attempt, and they left on good terms.

The next time they saw him was 50 years later, when they'd established themselves in the southwestern desert. Once again, they invited him to stay for dinner. Once again, he left, and Hep discovered he'd left his tobacco pouch behind. This time, he suggested that Scroat just get close enough to throw it to Tommy, so Tommy wouldn't be able to invite them to his home.

Of course, when Scroat got close enough to throw it, Tommy asked him to come closer. Scroat did, and Tommy once again invited them to his home. Scroat really didn't have any choice but to accept. So, they made the long trek to the Midwest.

This time there was a dramatic storm that flattened Tommy's hut just as he started cooking. Naturally, after the storm passed Hep and Scroat thanked him, and left.

He'd show up a few times since, playing the same old game, and Hep had worked with him for a while. They traveled the small towns of the U.S., where Tommy would con people into buying products he had no intention of delivering. Hep was along because, bad legs or not, he was strong and scary-looking. If Tommy got himself into a situation that he couldn't talk his way out of, well, Hep didn't need to say much to get rid of trouble. If trouble foolishly chose to persist, Hep would quickly show it the error of its way.

Hep eventually tired of being a thug, preferring to build things and be left alone to tinker. So, he left Tommy in a bar and hadn't seen him since, until Tommy's most recent visit.

***

After the appalling boredom of the road for the last several days, Ohio was almost overwhelming with the quantity and quality of weird things to look at on the sides of the roads.

They were trying to stay off the main roads, and so found themselves tooling along forgotten backroads, and towns most people had never heard of. In Gilboa, they saw a statue of a giant bull to one side of the road. Thankfully, no one was home in the bull. In Findlay, they saw a sign advertising that the Bathtub of the USS Maine was on display. Hep had no idea why anyone would want to see that, but was amused by its presence all the same.

In Mansfield, they saw a sign letting them know that the "Living Bible Museum" was nearby. Hep's curiosity was too difficult to overcome, and he led them to it to take the tour.

The workers at the museum looked mildly concerned as 11 filthy bikers filed in, but they quickly warmed to them as they paid admission and managed to avoid doing anything too vulgar within the first 30 seconds of getting inside.

They were led around a wax museum chock full of scenes from the bible. In one, Job's face was covered with hideous sores. In another, Lot's wife turned to a pillar of salt.

Scroat quipped to Hep, "Seems to me Lot lucked out there." Hep elbowed Scroat in the side and told him to shut up.

At the gift shop was a wax figure of Cesear, by a sign that said "Rend unto Cesear the things which are Cesear's, and unto God the things which are God's."

"Tasteful." Charlie said.

As they left, Scroat said, "Man, Jehovah sure used to stick it to people, didn't he?"

"Oh yeah, nobody smote like Yahweh smote." Hep replied.

***

They stopped at Willow Lake Park in Medina to camp for the night. As night fell they got a good fire going and they all sat around it, passing a bottle of whiskey and telling jokes that got raunchier, and less coherent, as the bottle made it's rounds.

Eventually just Hep and Dave were still awake.

"So where the hell are you taking up, Hep?" Dave asked.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure yet. East is as much as I know right now." Hep replied.

"Is there a reason we're going East? Who the hell are these guys after you?" Dave asked him.

"Well, we're going East to find Tommy. I've got something that belongs to him, and I need to give it back. They guys who are after me want to get it before I can return it to Tommy." Hep told him.

"Uh huh. What have you got that's so important?" Dave asked.

"Tommy's tobacco pouch." Hep answered.

"A tobacco pouch? Why is that so valuable? Is there wacky tobacco in there?" Dave asked, and smirked.

"Nope. It's valuable because it's valuable to Tommy." Hep said. He didn't want to tell Dave what was going on, because he was worried they'd split if they found out Seth was behind the whole mess. The UTMC crew had been through some weird shit with Hep and Scroat in the past, but nothing as bad as a God whose sole interest is utter destruction and chaos.

"Well, alright," Dave said. "I don't get it, but I'm sure it's all going to become apparent soon anyway. Good night, Hep." Dave got up and went to find a good spot to sleep.

"Good night." Hep said. He slept over by Scroat and Charlie.

***

In Hep's dream, he and Tommy were sitting in a smoke-filled teepee. His eyes were burning, and it was all he could do to keep from coughing.

"What the hell, Tommy? You don't live in a teepee." Hep said.

"Hey, it's not my fucking dream, Hep. If you don't like it, why don't you fix it?" Tommy said.

Hep focused for a minute, and the smoke disappeared. "That's better," he said.

"Yep. So, here I am. What do you want to talk to me about?" Tommy asked.

"I want to know where the heck you're headed." Hep said. "No one seems to know where the hell you are."

"Damn straight!" Tommy said. "It'll be bad enough if Seth gets his mitts on my tobacco pouch. The last thing I need is for him to take me out of the picture so you can't ever return it."

"So where are you going? I don't want to lead these guys all over the country for nothing." Hep said.

"It's not for nothing. This is the way it has to be. If it could be another way, it would be," Tommy said. "Keep heading east. Right now I'm going to Baltimore, though that could change any time.

"Don't worry, pal. I'll let you know how to find me when it's time." Tommy said, and winked. "Now, why don't you dream about something fun for a change? Want me to send a couple girls over?"

"Get bent, Tommy." Hep said.

"Your loss. See ya later, Hep." Tommy said, stood up and left the teepee.

Chapter 14

2006-11-08T21:02:00.000-08:00

Hep was mildly disappointed that they weren't able to stop in Griggsville to see the Purple Martins. Saving the world, and themselves, had to come first, though.

They stopped in Atlanta on their way to Chicago, so the UTMCers could gas up. On their way out of town again, they passed a muffler man statue that was holding a giant hot dog.

Scroat glanced at it, then looked again. "Shit in my hand!" he yelled! "Hep! It's Jeb!"

Hep just had time to look and see the muffler man throwing a giant fiberglass hotdog at them. Luckily for them, it missed them completely, instead smashing a Ford Excursion parked across the street. The trucks alarm started going off.

They sped up to get away. Hep looked back when he could, and saw the muffler man statue retrieving its hot dog. That was awfully close.

***
Rather than ride all the way to Chicago, they stopped in Joliet. From there they went east to Gary, Indiana. From Gary they rode to Goshen.

When they saw the sign announcing they were in Goshen, Scroat yelled to Hep "Let my people go, you ugly son of a bitch!"

In Goshen, they found the Eby's Pines Campground. They decided to spend the night there.
***
That night, Hep woke up when he heard a weird buzzing. It sounded like a swarm of insects, only metal. He sat up, wondering what the hell it could be. He woke up Charlie and Scroat, and they sat listening and trying to figure out what would make such an awful racket. As the sound got closer, they started to see lights weaving and bobbing, and soon they realized that it was a large group of 2-stroke motors that were making all that noise.

"Guys! Wake up!" Hep called to the bikers sprawled around the campsite. They groggily sat up, asking what was going on, and what all the racket was.

Soon enough the motors came into view. It was a group of at least 30 guys on old Vespas, all of them wearing red shirts. They had the campsite surrounded.

One of them stepped forward. "Are you Hop?" he asked. He had horn-rimmed glasses, and multiple piercings.

"Hep."

"Whatever. You've got something we want. Hand it over."

"I don't think so. You're going to have to come get it." Hep said.

"I was hoping you'd say that." The scooterists dismounted, and all of them started walking towards Hep and the others. All except for one, who ran off to one side and started snapping photographs.

One scooterist charged at Dave, who saw him coming and drove his fist into the red shirt's gut. After that, the rest ran in, and the brawl began.

The red shirts didn't stand a chance.

Hep and Scroat fought back to back. Hep grabbed two of the scooter gang, and slammed their heads together. They dropped like bags of sand. Scroat grabbed on to one of them by the collar and punched him hard in the jaw. He fell down unconscious. Scroat looked down at him and said "Sucker, you got knocked the fuck out."

Charlie, meanwhile, was clubbing the hell out of anyone who got close to him with a shillelagh. Red shirts fell to his left and right. "Damn, I love the Irish!" he called to Hep.

The UTMCers pounded the red shirts foolish enough to approach them into the ground. In a matter of minutes, the only red shirted person still standing was the one furiously taking photos, muttering "this is great!"

Hep limped over to him, picked him up with one hand, took the camera away with the other and said "Now get the hell out of here before we have to mess you up too, buddy." Then he set him down.

"Uh, can I have my camera back?" the photographer asked. Hep looked at him, then at the camera. He opened the back, pulled out the film, and tossed the camera to the red shirt.

"Take a hike." Hep said. He went back to where the others were standing, surveying the mess.
"I guess we'd better clear out of here before these guys wake up." Hep said.

They rode from the campground to Aubrun, and started looking for a place to sleep. There they found a Best Western with some vacancies. Hep, Scroat and Charlie were mildly annoyed that the room they got smelled like a wet dog, but by that point they was too tired to go to the desk and complain, so they just went to sleep.

Chapter 13

2006-11-08T21:01:00.000-08:00

Hep woke up as Scroat yelled "You rotten shitbag, that's not even your trick!" and Charlie laughed.

"Sorry Hep, I couldn't wait." Charlie said. He made a sorry face, then laughed again. Hep grunted, got out of bed and walked to the bathroom.

"Man, that's a dick move when Hep does it. And you sure as shit aren't Hep." Scroat said to Charlie.

They went down to see what there was for breakfast. There was a fine selection of bad donuts, bad bagels, really bad eggs, mediocre toast, rubbery bacon, and thick-as-tar old coffee. They made the best of it, and choked it down after generously applying Tabasco to everything except the coffee. They just avoided the coffee.

They went out to the bikes and fired them up. As the motors warmed, they discussed their next move. Charlie suggested that they head for Missouri, by way of Kansas. He figured that whomever was chasing them probably assumed they were headed for Minnesota, and would be waiting for them in Iowa or South Dakota.

"That means we're going to have to backtrack" Scroat said.

"Have you got a better idea?" Charlie said. Scroat scowled at him.

"What-fucking-ever. Let's just go."

They rolled out of the parking lot, and started south. As they were getting out of Omaha, Hep spotted a water tower shaped like a giant coffee pot. He chuckled to himself, wondering how much of that they could polish off, were it actually filled with coffee.

The rest of the trip through Nebraska was absolutely chock full of nothing of interest to anyone, anywhere in the world. They crossed into Kansas and marveled at the variety and selection of boring things to look at. No matter where they looked, there was something just as boring, if not more boring than where they had just looked.

So they were grateful when they arrived in Overland Park after about three hours.

They stopped at a fast food joint and got some burgers. They went and sat at the outdoor tables. A Ronald MacDonald statue was posed on a wooden bench nearby.

"I don't think I've been this fucking bored in 93 years." Scroat said as they ate.

"Suck it up. We'll be in St. Louis in about four hours." Charlie said.

Hep looked around at the scenic parking lot. Right then he would have been happy to be back in Nevada. As he looked around, he made eye contact with Ronald. The statue started, quickly looked away and resumed its pose.

"Shit! Ronald over there was watching us!" Hep whispered urgently to Scroat, Jim and Charlie.

Scroat picked up a rock and chucked it at the statue's head. It made a hollow noise when it hit Ronald in the forehead. The statue didn't move.

"Already gone. Damn it."

"Let's go." Hep said.

They got on the road immediately, and hauled ass to get into Missouri. They stopped roughly two hours later in Columbia.

"So going to St. Louis is probably a bad idea, huh?" Jim said.

"Yeah, probably." Hep said. "Any ideas, gentlemen."

"I say we go find a muffler man and start kicking his ass until he tells us who's after us." Scroat said.

"Well, that'd be fun, but I think we might get tired after the third muffler man who doesn't know anything." Charlie said.

"I'm game! I haven't laid waste to anything for too long." Scroat said.

"Right, well, when it's time to lay waste to something, I'll be sure to call you." Hep said.

Hep dug out a road map and studied it for a few minutes, trying to find someplace inconspicuous to go for the night.

"Let's head to Quincy. It's should only be a couple more hours from here. It's just over the border in Illinois." Hep said.

They got back on the road, heading northwest now. The road, as expected, was dull.

"Let's just go find a fiberglass statue and kick it's ass on general principle." Scroat shouted. "I'm fuckin' bored!"
***
They checked into the Bel Aire Motel in Quincy. It was an entirely unremarkable place, but it was cheap and they were happy to find that the rooms were neat and clean.

Hep picked up the phone right after they got into the room.

"Who are you calling?" Charlie asked.

"Some of my pals in Denver. They're just crazy enough to come out here, and they've got to know some folks in Illinois who can come too." Hep said. Hep's friends were, of course, the Uniformly Terrific Motorcycle Crazies. The members, who all refused to be called members, were the sort of guys who would ride for 24 hours straight on a ratty, 1970's Honda with a plywood seat if you gave them the chance.

"Hello, Dave? Hey buddy, it's Hep."

"Hep! Are you in town? Are you coming out for coffee?" Dave said.

"No, I'm in Illinois. I was out there a couple days ago, but..."

"Waitaminnit. You were in Denver and you didn't even call? That's cold, man. Shoot, I'm not sure I want to talk to you anymore," Dave said.
Hep explained that they were being pursued, and whoever was after them had people waiting in Denver. So, instead of hanging around and being easy targets, they took off as quickly as they could. Could he and some of the guys come to Illinois and help?

"Where are you at in Illinois, Hep?" Dave asked.

Hep told him, and gave him directions.

"We'll be there lickety-split. Don't you go anywhere." Dave said, and hung up the phone.

Hep sighed, and slouched down in his chair.

"So are they coming?" Scroat asked.

"Yep." Hep replied.

"Why the hell didn't we get them while we were in Denver?" Scroat asked.

Hep didn't answer. He jumped when the phone rang. Hep answered it, wondering what had gone wrong.

"Hep, is that you?" the voice on the other end drawled.

"Elvis. Hey pal, what's going on?"

"Man, you are in a world of shit." Elvis said. "I found out who's behind all this trouble."

"Oh yeah, who's that?" Hep asked.

"It's Seth." Elvis said.

"Seth? But I thought he was sent..."

Elvis interrupted, "Yeah, he was, but now he's here. So what are you going to do?"

Hep told him that eight of the UTMC crew were on their way out to Illinois right then. He figured that with eight of them, and Scroat, Charlie and himself, they'd all probably be ok.

Elvis told him that Tommy had sent word that he was in Pittsburgh for the time being. He told Hep to look after himself, and hung up the phone.

Shit, Hep thought. He'd had a run-in with Seth in Egypt once. Seth was a vicious fighter, persistent and, worst of all, only interested in causing chaos. Seth was bad news.

Charlie was staring at Hep. "Did I hear that Seth is after us?"

"Yep." Hep said.

"Oh fuck." Scroat said quietly.

"What? Who's Seth? What's the big deal?" Jim asked.

Hep explained that Seth liked war and chaos, especially chaos. That meant that he wasn't trying to gain power of some sort by stealing Tommy's tobacco pouch. It meant that he really was trying to destroy Tommy's mythology, and use that as a starting point for destroying everyone else's myths, until the world of the gods and men were both plunged into chaos. In essence, Seth wanted all hell to break loose.

"And that would be bad, in case you didn't get it." Scroat said to Jim.

"I'm not that stupid, Scroat." Jim said.

"Could have fooled me." Scroat shot back.

As it got later, they had a pizza delivered to their room. After they ate, Charlie and Scroat turned on the TV. Hep, meanwhile, went down to the lobby to see what there was to see in Illinois. He was excited to learn that Griggsville was the Purple Martin Capital of the World. He hoped they'd be able to pass through Griggsville, just to see the massive birdhouses built for the Purple Martins. He also grabbed a flyer for the "Life Size Statue of the World's Tallest Man."

Hep had meant it when he told Jim that humans were funny sometimes. He liked to stop at roadside attractions, just because they were so frequently entirely bizarre and seemingly pointless, yet someone had thought it was important enough to erect the World's Largest Thermometer that they found a way to do it. Someone out there had been obsessed enough to build a castle in the middle of the desert, entirely out of things he'd found for free. Why? Who knows.

Hep, as a god who liked to build things on a big scale, could appreciate what drove them to do it, and he loved and hated to see the results, forgotten on the side of a road, important to no one except the people who created them.

He went back to the room.
***
"So did Elvis tell you where Tommy is, Hep?" Charlie asked.

"Yep, he's in Pittsburgh." Hep said. He told them that he thought they should go up through Chicago, and then East to Pittsburgh.

"Seems reasonable enough." Charlie asked. "So when can we expect your pals from Denver?"

"I expect they'll be here early tomorrow morning, though they're probably going to need a lot of coffee when they get here." Hep replied.

Suddenly, they all noticed that the TV had been unusually quiet for several minutes. They turned and looked, and saw a newscaster grinning back at them. He waved at them.

"This just in, Tommy is in Pittsburgh and you guys are going to be in a whole new world of hurt! More at 11," the talking head said. Scroat turned the TV off quickly.

"Shit on a stick!" Scroat exclaimed, "We can't even watch TV!"

"I told you no good could come from TV seventy years ago." Hep said.

"Oh, hey, you know who can gobble shit straight from a pig's ass?" Scroat started.

"No time for that." Charlie said. "What do you think we should do Hep?"

"I think we need to wait for my crew to arrive, and then we need to get the hell out of here."

Hep spent an uneasy night, sleeping for ten minutes, then jumping awake whenever he heard something. Scroat slept deeply, and Charlie was propped up in a chair, sleeping facing the door, with a pistol next to his hand. A pistol wouldn't stop Seth, (though it might slow him down a bit) however, it would definitely stop most other unwelcome visitors.

That morning, Hep woke up when he heard a group of motorcycles pull in just outside their room. He got out of bed, and shook Scroat awake.

"What the?" Scroat said. "That's the nicest you've ever woken me up."

"Don't get used to it. I just didn't want anyone unfriendly to hear you yelling." Hep said.

He woke up Charlie, and Jim popped back into the room.

"A whole bunch of guys on grimy old motorcycles just pulled into the parking lot. They've all got a picture of an old-timey bomb on their jackets." Jim said.

Hep smiled. "They made it."

Soon enough they heard boots stomping toward their room, and laughter. Someone pounded on the door.

"Culligan man! Open the fuckin' door!" a voice said, and someone laughed.

Hep unlocked the door and opened it. Standing there were eight dusty, bow-legged, grinning maniacs. Hep grinned.

"Hey guys, come in." Hep said. They all filed into the tiny room. There wasn't really room for all of them, so they stood awkwardly, and tried to get out of the way and Hep, Scroat and Charlie got ready to leave.

Five minutes later, they were on the road and headed for Chicago.

Chapter 12

2006-11-06T20:43:00.000-08:00

"I'm going to rip out both of your fucking spleens and shove them so far up your assholes it'll be like I never took them out except for the whole new world of pain, you rotten goblin cocks!" Scroat yelled at Hep and Charlie who were standing on either side of him with hammers.

"Damn Hep, that is fun." Charlie said.

They spent some time picking out weaponry that looked the most likely to inspire fear in the hearts of villains who were out to destroy Tommy's myth and loose chaos upon the world.

Scroat picked up a heavy club with spiked jutting out of it. "Yeah, this'll do." He said, and grinned at Hep.

They packed up the bikes, and Charlie rolled his bike out of the garage. It was a bright red Ducati 999R.

"Damn! How'd you get that?" Scroat asked.

"Being a god has its perks." Charlie said, grinning.

"Can I ride it?" Scroat asked him.

"Uh, no. But I'll let you smell my exhaust." Charlie said.

"Aw, fuck you."

Charlie laughed. He locked up his house and they started riding towards Denver.

In Denver, forces were gathering, and plotting their next move.

***

They stopped at a coffee shop in Denver.

"Where should we go from here?" Charlie asked.

"Well, I guess Nebraska is the best bet." Hep said.

"Let's get moving then."

***

The road to Nebraska was mostly uneventful, until they were just past the border. That's where they noticed the roadblock.

There were four large SUVs parked across the road. They were rapidly approaching the roadblock, and Hep yelled, "What do we do?" to Charlie.

Charlie glanced upwards.

"Ride straight at them! Stay close to me!" he yelled. Scroat and Hep both got as close to Charlie as they could.
"Speed up!" Charlie yelled. His exhaust howled as he opened up the throttle on the Ducati. Hep and Scroat both sped up to keep close to him.

Soon they were close enough to the trucks that there was no way they'd be able to stop, or swerve to avoid them. The people manning the roadblock fled to the sides of the road.

"Hang on!" Charlie yelled to Hep and Scroat.

Suddenly, they were in the air, spinning wildly, and unable to see or hear. They were surrounded my a tremendous roaring noise, and intense wind. Soon they were set down in the middle of an intersection. They were surrounded by corn fields as far as they could see in any direction. The sky was clouded over, and pitch black.

"What the fuck was that? Where the fuck are we? What the fucking fuck? Fuck!" Scroat yelled.

"How did you do that? You don't have anything to do with weather." Hep asked Charlie.

"Called in a favor from a friend." Charlie said and grinned.

"Ok, so, where are we?"

"I don't know." Charlie said. "Probably still in Nebraska, though."

"Which way should we go, then?" Hep asked, looking around the intersection.

Scroat looked down and saw an arrow painted on the road. "We go that way," he said, and pointed in the direction the arrow was pointing.

"How do you know?" Jim asked.

"I don't. But a little faith never hurt. Have you got a better idea, fuckhead?"

"Well then, that's the way we'll go." Hep said. They all turned, and rode off along the road, hoping there was an end to the corn fields somewhere along their path.

The sky stayed black, and the fields went on for ages. Eventually, they got out of the cornfields and were riding across open plains. The wind gusted, and every now and then lightning flashed.

They stopped for a pee break when they saw a tree near the side of the road.

"Where do you think we are?" Jim asked Hep.

"I think we're somewhere in Nebraska, on the side of the road, taking a leak." Hep said testily. "Where do you think we are?"
"Nevermind." Jim said and went back to the bikes.

When Hep got back to the bike, he looked at Jim and said, "Don't worry, pal, right now we're ok."

Seconds after they rode off, lightning struck the tree and it burst into flame.

"Did you see that?" Jim yelled.

"Don't worry, it's just my friend messing with us!" Charlie yelled back.

"I'd hate to see what your friend does to people he doesn't like." Jim yelled.

"Me too!" Charlie yelled and laughed.

After a couple hours, they saw a sign directing them to Omaha. "That's where we'll stop for the day!" Charlie yelled.

***

When they got to Omaha, they found a Motel 6, checked in and went straight to their room. Charlie and Scroat collapsed into bed, but Hep was too anxious to sleep right away. He stayed up reading the literature the hotel had provided about Omaha.

He was pleased to learn that Omaha was home to the World's Largest Ball of Stamps and a strange fried chicken joint where they feed the scraps to raccoons and feral cats, and one can sit by a window and watch the animals scuffle over scraps of chicken.

Eventually, he turned in and went to sleep. Jim hung out just outside their door for the night, in case of penguins.

Chapter 11

2006-11-06T20:42:00.000-08:00

The night passed quietly. Well, actually, the night passed rather loudly, with lots of rumbling trucks, cars and the general cacophony that surrounds a truck stop. Hep and Scroat, of course, had enough liquor in them to sedate most of the west coast, and slept through everything. Had an atomic bomb detonated next to them, they might have sat up slightly and muttered "whuzzat?" before rolling over and sleeping again.

When the sun was high enough, Hep woke up and groggily assessed his current location. Grass. Parking lot. Bikes. Sky. Sun. Headache.

Penguin? Nope.

Jim saw him sit up, and came over. "Good morning."

"Mm. So did that thing with the penguin really happen last night, or did we get ourselves kicked out some other way?" Hep asked.

"It really happened."

"Crap. Anything happen while we were asleep?"

"Obviously not." Jim said.

"Ok."

Hep dug a bottle of water out of his sidecar, and splashed a bit on his face. "Man, I feel like I slept in a ditch last night. Oh wait..."

He put the water back and pulled out his hammer, then made his way over to where Scroat was sleeping.

He swung and the hammer thumped into the ground next to Scroat's head. Scroat didn't so much as twitch in response. Hep stood back and looked at Scroat. It seemed he was still breathing. There wasn't anything covering his ears. "Damn, how much did we drink last night?"

Hep spotted a rusty old muffler laying in the parking lot nearby. He went over, grabbed it, and laid it next to Scroat's head. Hep slammed the hammer into it, making a terrific racket. A flock of birds nearby took off, and the people filling their tanks at the gas station nearby all turned to see where the wreck was.

Scroat snorted, rolled over, and began snoring loudly.

Hep looked around, and asked Jim to look away for a minute. When Jim did, Hep took aim and swung straight at Scroat's head. The hammer struck with a mellow "thump."

Scroat cracked one eye and muttered "cock-blocking ass goblin" before going back to sleep.

"Dammit!" Hep said. "I'm going to get some coffee."
He walked to the gas station and bought two coffees and a small packet of aspirin. Outside, he sat down on the curb, took two of the aspirin, closed his eyes and started drinking his coffee. He heard a noise in the distance that sounded like a shopping cart rattling towards him. It got louder and louder, to the point that it was aggravating his hangover.

The sound was right next to him, and then stopped. Hep opened his eyes and saw a bird-like man on a bicycle with no front tire, just the metal rim.

"You know, that thing'll be a lot easier to ride if you put a tire on that wheel." Hep commented.

"Not nearly loud enough. Won't scare any spirits away that way," the man said.

"Yeah, but you'll irritate many fewer hungover travelers."

"Not important. Are you Hep?" the man asked him. Hep looked at him warily, and began regretting his choice to walk to the gas station instead of riding. If he had to run, he was going to have problems.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Elvis sent me. With a message."

"What's the message?" Hep asked.

"They know where you're heading. Be careful in Denver. Tommy has gone missing. He may be headed east. Have a good day." The man started riding away.

"Hey, wait! Is that all? Hey!" The strange cyclist kept pedaling, and didn't look back.

Hep got up and hustled back to where Scroat, Jim and the bikes were.

***

"Damn, I feel like you hit me in the head with that fucking hammer to wake me up this morning. Some night, huh? Thanks for not waking me up the way you usually do." Scroat said, while rubbing his temples.

"Well, I would have, but it was still too early when I went out walking." Hep replied.

"Hey, that's..." Jim started.

Hep gave Jim a deadly look. "That's what?"

"Uh, that's a cup of coffee. That was nice of you to bring back."

"Oh yeah, I'm a nice guy, after all. Here, Scroat, coffee and aspirin." Hep said.

Scroat took the aspirin and coffee. "Thanks buddy, you're all right, sometimes." He swallowed the aspirin with some coffee.

"That's me. So, some weird guy just came up to me at the gas station and told me that Tommy is missing, and that they know we're headed to Denver." Hep said.

"Really? And who told him that? How'd he know who you were?" Scroat asked.

"Apparently, Elvis sent him." Hep answered.

"Fuck! Do we go through Nebraska instead?" Scroat asked.

"Nah, I don't know anyone there. Do you? They're obviously not having any trouble finding us, so we might as well at least try and get some folks on our side."

"So where to first then?" Scroat asked.

"Aspen." Hep said. "We'd better get moving."

Scroat finished his coffee quickly, and they got moving.

They stopped in Craig, Co to rest and have some lunch. There wasn't much there, but they managed to find a small Mexican place called Casa Loya. The special for the day was shrimp enchiladas, so that's what they had. They ate in silence, partly from their hangovers and exhaustion from sleeping in ditch, and partly from a fear of giving away their whereabouts.

When they were done eating, they quietly paid the check and left. Hep found a liquor store and bought a couple bottles of rum.

Hep, Scroat and Jim rolled into Aspen around five o'clock that afternoon. They were stopped at an intersection while Hep tried to remember how to get to his friend's place. Scroat looked around, did a double-take, and then a triple-take.

Across the way was a tall man with a narrow face, aviator sunglasses and colorful hunting jacket standing by an old BSA 650 Lightning. He, like Jim, was kind of transparent.

"Uh, hey. Hey Hep." Scroat said. "Is that..."

Hep looked across the way. "It sure is. He looks good, too. Happy."

"Who is that?" Jim asked.

"That's the man. Dr. Hunter S. Thompson." Hep answered.

"Who's..." Jim started, but Scroat interrupted him.

"Do you think it'd be ok to go talk to him?" Scroat asked.

"No. He doesn't need this weirdness." Hep said. "I think I remember the way. Follow me."

They waved to Hunter as they rode by, and he solemnly nodded to them.

Soon they were at an isolated ranch. A muscular man wearing bib overalls, no shirt and engineer boots was waiting for them in front of his garage. He smiled as they rolled up, and yelled "Welcome!" They got off their bikes and walked over to shake hands with their host.

"Hi Charlie. It's good to see you." Hep said, smiling.

"It's good to see you too. Scroat, howzit? Hey, who's the ghost?" Charlie asked.

"This is Jim. We met him in California. Jim, this is Charlie. He's a blacksmith like me, only from the Caribbean."

"Pleased to meet you Jim. I'd shake your hand, but I don't want to get slimed or nothing." Charlie said.

Jim's smile faded "Hey, wait a second.."

Charlie interrupted him. "Well, let's not just stand out here like a bunch of dopes. Bring your stuff inside."

Hep and Scroat gathered their bags, and the four of them went into Charlie's house. His house was rather rustic looking and, they soon discovered, very well armed. Charlie had rifles, swords, knives, even a shillelagh displayed across his walls, on solid looking iron shelves and strewn about the room, evidently for easy access.

"I've got a room all set for you, come this way." Charlie said. He led them to a room in the back of his house.

"This'll be great, thanks Charlie." Hep said. He dug in his bag and pulled out the bottles of rum. "Here, I thought you might like these."

"Damn, this'll be good. Winters coming on soon, and my balls get damn cold. This'll help keep 'em nice and toasty." Charlie grinned. "Hey, what do you all say we start a fire, cook up some meat, and break one of these bottles open?"

"That sounds mighty fine." Scroat said.

Charlie led them back through the house, and out into his back yard. There was a large fire pit, already stacked with wood. Charlie lit a match, and casually tossed it into the firepit. The wood caught instantly, and was blazing in a matter of seconds.

"I love that trick." Charlie said and grinned at Hep. "So! It's been a while since I've seen you Hep. Shoot, it was just after that brawl with the Aztecs, wasn't it?"

"Yep." Hep said. They all made small talk for a while and waited for the wood to burn down so they'd have some good embers to cook over. Soon enough they were roasting balls of hamburger on sticks over the coals.

After they ate, Charlie pulled out a bottle of rum and cracked the cap open. He poured a bit out on the ground, and threw a lit match at it. The rum caught fire, and Charlie watched it burn, smiling faintly.

"One for my homies, you know," he said. Then he poured them each a good knock of rum in jelly glasses.

"So, it sounds to me like you have some Mr. Bungles on your trail. What on earth did you do? I thought you guys were pretty quiet down there in the desert." Charlie said.

"Yeah. Well, Tommy came to visit, and he left his tobacco pouch." Hep said.

"Ah-ha. Isn't he ever going to get tired of that trick?" Charlie asked.

"I guess not." Hep said.

"Hmm. I bet he didn't plan on having outsiders get interested in taking it away from you. Any ideas on where he is?"

"Nope. All we know is that he might be headed East." Hep said, and then drained his glass. Charlie filled it with rum again, then topped off Scroat's glass, then his own.

Charlie sat quietly for a few minutes.

"Any idea on who'd want to get his tobacco pouch?" He asked.

"Nope. You?" Hep answered.

"No." Charlie drained his glass. "Oh, that's good. Warms me, you know.

"Well, it sounds to me like I'm going to need to ride with you guys. At least for a while. I know you can hold your own in a tussle, but you aren't carrying any weapons except for that hammer, are you?" Charlie asked.
"Didn't think I'd need any." Hep said.

"Well, don't worry, I've got plenty for all of us!" Charlie said, and laughed out loud.

Hep was relieved that Charlie was coming with. It was good that he had a huge arsenal at his disposal, but Charlie was also a natural politician. He could talk his way out of bad situations. Scroat and Hep, on the other hand, tended to make situations worse when they started talking. Scroat especially.

Charlie threw more wood on the fire, and soon they had a roaring bonfire going. They drank, and smoked, and laughed about past adventures. Once the rum was gone, and the fire had died down, they went to bed.

***

Hep and Scroat had vivid dreams that night.

Hep dreamt that he was back in the Church of Elvis. He and Elvis were discussing the situation he and Scroat were in.

"Yep, you're in one hell of a pickle," Elvis said. "You're safe right now, though. No one's going to fuck with Charlie on his own turf. If I were you, I might load that cane of yours up with iron before you leave. Just in case. I'll keep an ear on the underground for you, too. If anything comes up, I'll send my pal again."

"Thanks Elvis, you're a hell of a guy. Your buddy gives me the willies, though." Hep said.

Elvis laughed, and then the dream ended. Hep slept deeply.

Scroat, meanwhile, dreamt that he was back at Sue's Fantasy Club with two ladies. They tied his wrists up, and teased him a bit. It was fun at first, but then they started to wash his mouth out with soap, and kept telling him "No more swears, now." He woke up spitting and sweaty.

"That had to be the worst fucking dream I've ever had about fucking," Scroat said to Jim, who was looking out the window.

"Sorry to hear that." Jim said.

Chapter 10

2006-11-05T20:22:00.001-08:00

Jim spent the night drifting from room to room and checking out the inner workings of the hotel. Truth be told, it wasn't very interesting, as the hotel wasn't big enough to have any large mechanical rooms, and there were only a couple of other guests in the Motel who, unfortunately, spent the night sleeping.

Jim was bored. He took up a strategic position in the motel lobby to keep an eye out for any trouble that might be headed their way.

He was sorely disappointed the next morning when absolutely nothing transpired. No mysterious visitors. No hired guns arriving to dispatch Hep and Scroat. Not even a pizza delivery.

Jim was slumped in a molded fiberglass chair when he heard Scroat yell "You shitty, horsefaced motherfucker!"

That meant they were awake, so he went back to the room.

Hep and Scroat were both ready to go when he got there.

"Come on, the sooner we're out of Utah, the happier I'll be." Scroat said.

***

They were headed east when they saw a sign for Bingham Canyon Mine - "The Biggest Pit in the World!"

Scroat yelled to Hep "Shit, they should have that sign at the borders! 'Utah! The World's Biggest Pit!'"

***

They stopped at a park in Salt Lake City for lunch. After they dug out the food out of their bags, they wandered into the park looking for a shady spot to sit and eat. As they walked, they noticed that the park was chock full of art that was a little odd.

"Is that statue a sphinx with Joseph Smith's face?" Scroat asked.

"Yep. Didn't think I'd see one of those today." Hep replied.

"Is a Joseph Smith Sphinx something you normally expect to see?" Jim asked.

Hep ignored the question, as he was busy looking at something a lot stranger. Jim and Scroat both turned to look at what had taken up Hep's interest.

"Does that statue have brick pants?" Jim asked.

"And a granite sport coat. Now that's just poor taste." Scroat said. "What kind of fucked up state did you bring us to, Hep?"

"I dunno. Let's just eat and get out of here." Hep said, marveling at the other strange statues in the park.

They were all too distracted by the surrounding weirdness to notice that the Sphinx was watching them. They also would have noticed that it was not Joseph Smith who was watching them.

"So where are we headed right from here Hep?" Scroat asked.

"Northeast into Wyoming."

"It's going to be more fun than this dull-ass state, isn't it?"

"I guess we'll find out. That's where we're headed, either way."

"Well, let's hurry up and get there. This place is freaking me the fuck out." Scroat stood up, brushed off his pants, and walked back to his bike.

Hep took a look around at the weirdness surrounding him again, and then followed.

***

Their trip to Wyoming was uneventful. They stopped in Little America at the "World's Largest Gas Station" for a stretch and a break.

"So what do you guys think, should we keep rolling, or stop here for the day?" Hep asked.

"Let's stop. Maybe we can find some decent food here." Scroat looked around a little bit. "Doesn't seem very fucking likely, though."

They went to the Little America Hotel and checked in. As they walked through the lobby of the hotel, Hep noticed they had a stuffed penguin on display. "Emperor," a small nametag read.

They went up to their room.

"Wow, this is what it looks like when a girl tries to make a cowboy's shack more dainty." Scroat commented.

Hep couldn't disagree.

Scroat went to take a shower, and Hep read through the literature to see what, if anything, was nearby and entertaining. He learned that Wyoming was the home of JC Penney, and that one of the counties was the Trona Capital of the World, whatever that meant.

"Great." Hep said. At least the hotel had a restaurant and a separate bar.

Jim told Hep he was going to go explore the hotel. "I bet this place has a lot more cool stuff than that last hotel."

"Good luck with that." Hep said.

Scroat came out of the shower. "So did you find us a decent place to eat, or what?"

"Well, the hotel has a dining room and a coffee shop."

"That's it? Man, who's stupid fucking idea was it to stop here?" Scroat asked.

"Yours."

"Shit. I'm an asshole."

"Tell me something I don't know." Hep grinned at Scroat. "Let's go check out our selection of fine eateries."

They went down to the dining room and looked around.

"I bet you could get us thrown out of here in 5 minutes." Hep said.

Scroat looked offended. "Five minutes? Do I look tired? Shit, fuckhead, I could get us thrown out before we even got in. Did I ever tell you about the time I got thrown out of a place twice in one night..."

Hep interrupted him. "Let's just go to the coffee shop."

The coffee shop looked more like a fancy diner. There was a long, wraparound counter, and they had the place to themselves, at least for the time being. Hep smiled.

"Maybe you didn't pick such a bad place to stop."

"Well, I am the motherfucking brains of this operation." Scroat said.

They both ordered biscuits and gravy, and coffee.

"Hot damn, is there anything as good as gravy, black pepper and coffee?" Scroat asked when their food came out.

"Sure, but this will do for today."

They ate, and talked about what their next destination should be.

"From here we can go to South Dakota, Nebraska or Colorado." Hep said.

"Hmmm, so we've got our choice of Shit-splat Nowhere, Podunk Fucking America, and Butt Fuck Egypt."

"Yep. Colorado's not so bad, and I know some folks down there." Hep said.

"Well I guess you've made the fucking decision then."

"I guess. Nebraska would be a straight shot to Iowa though, and from there we can be in Minnesota in about 6 hours."

"Yeah, well, I say we let Tommy sweat for another day or two. Fucking jerk. Couldn't he fuck with people closer to home?" Scroat said.

"So we'll go to Colorado then." Hep said.

***

After eating, they went to the Lounge to have a few drinks.

"Hey look, a tv." Scroat said. Apart from the bar itself, that was pretty much all that was in the bar.

"Gentlemen, what can I get you to drink?" the bartender asked.

"Jack Daniel's neat" Scroat said. The bartender nodded and looked at Hep.

"Got any Ouzo?" Hep asked.
"We don't serve umbrella drinks here, buddy."

Hep blinked. "Umbrella? Yeah, how about a beer then."

"You got it."

Hep and Scroat spent the rest of the evening in the bar, getting thoroughly ripped. They watched whatever game was on the tv, cheering whenever someone scored, and drinking as though they wanted to empty the bar. The bartender told them to get out at 11:00, because he was closing.

"It's only 11! What's this shit? I've hardly even gotten a good buzz going." Scroat got up from the bar and started walking out. "Fuck. Between bars closing at 11, and you pulling me out of a whorehouse to take me to some weird-assed park in the middle of fucking Utah of all places, you might as well start calling me Captain Cockblocked."

"Whatever you say, Cap'n." Hep replied. He was having a really tough time walking, on account of his bad legs compounded by the floor's refusal to stop tilting.

They staggered back to their door, fumbled with the lock for several minutes, and finally got into their room.

"Is there a porno channel in this hotel?" Scroat asked.

Hep mumbled something and stumbled quickly towards the bathroom, where he vomited at great length.

Between heaves, he heard Scroat yell "I don't fucking believe this! No porn at all! What the hell is wrong with this hotel?"

***

After a couple hours, Hep and Scroat had sobered enough that Hep could remain seated on a chair, and they started talking about Tommy. They also opened up the mini bar in the room and started drinking again.

"Ok, so Tommy left his tobacco pouch at our place, and we have to return it to him. Then he's going to take the opportunity to invite us to dinner, where he tries to show us how he's Mr. Fucking Fancy Pants, and some kind of hilarity will ensue, he'll embarrass himself and we can go home, right?" Scroat asked.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Hasn't this happened to him before?"

"Sure, scores of times. Hep said.

"Why does he keep doing it?"
"Why do you swear so much?" Hep asked.

"Because I fucking like it. Does Tommy like being humiliated? Because we could have taken him to Suzy's back in Nevada. They had a girl that could humiliate him all night, and we'd be on our way home already."

"No, that's not it. He does it because that's what he does. He wants to impress us with his largesse. I guess his can-do attitude is probably to blame for how often he does it. At least he hasn't bothered us specifically for a couple hundred years. Imagine if we lived closer to him." Hep said.

Scroat shuddered. "Man, I can barely tolerate that guy once every millennia or so. I'd hate to have him as a neighbor."

"Yep. Though returning his tobacco pouch would be a lot easier then. I bet his neighbors don't have people trying to steal his bag from them when they return it." Hep said.

"I bet."

"So who are these folks you know in Colorado?" Scroat asked.

"Just some other disreputable motorcycle scum, and a god or two in Denver. You'll like 'em. We'll have to be sure to pick up some rum before we get there, though" Hep said.

"Oh yeah?"

Jim drifted through the door then. "Hey guys, uh, there's a stuffed penguin holding a keycard listening at the door."

"What?" Hep exclaimed. "Shit!"

He stood up quickly, and was dismayed when the entire world shifted 45 degrees to his left and he fell over.

"We gotta catch him!" he said. Hep scrambled to his feet and staggered towards the door. Scroat was able to stagger a little faster than Hep, and got the door open and out into the hall just in time to see the penguin waddling - quickly- around a corner.

The three started down the hall after the penguin. Jim was able to keep up with the penguin, but couldn't do much to stop him. He was, after all, a little out of shape from being dead and ghostly, and a panicked, struggling, stuffed penguin is a lot stronger than you might expect.

Scroat lurched down the hall, sliding against the wall frequently. He got around the corner just in time to see the penguin duck into the stairwell.

"Aw fuck!" Scroat said.

Hep, meanwhile, was hurrying as well as he could. That meant, of course, that he was slamming against one wall in the hallway, only to stagger forward two steps and then hit the other wall.

Jim followed close behind the penguin as it hopped down the stairs. The penguin gave Jim several dirty looks as he fled. At least, as dirty of a look as a stuffed penguin can give. It also squacked at him in an agitated manner a few times. Jim was fairly sure that it had called him a dick, and told him to fuck off, but it was hard to tell since it couldn't enunciate its words very well.

Scroat got into the stairwell and started leaping down the flights of stairs, holding onto the railings and swinging out over the stairs and dropping onto the landings.

The penguin got out of the stairwell and broke into a penguin sprint, which isn't very fast on hotel carpeting, leapt up onto it's pedestal and pulled its' glass case over itself again. It resumed it's pose and stood stock still.

Scroat burst out of the stairwell and ran down the hall to the penguin. He started banging on the glass over the penguin.

"You little cock-biter. Get out here! What the fuck are you up to?" he kept banging on the glass.

"What the fuck do you want, penguin? Get out here! I'm gonna rip you limb from limb!"

The hotel staff was paying attention to Scroat now. One of the employees ran to a phone and called the hotel's security staff.

Hep finally caught up to Scroat, and he noticed that they could just lift the glass case off of the pedestal, so he did. He picked up the penguin and started shaking it. It was like watching someone shake a cheap stuffed prize from a county fair.

"Who do you work for, you little bastard?" Hep asked the penguin.

"The Little America Travel Center, sir. Please put the penguin back down," a security officer said to Hep.

Hep blinked, and set the penguin down again on the pedestal. It didn't move. "He was eavesdropping outside our door."

The security guard took a couple steps back.

"Sir, I'm going to need to ask you two to leave the premises. One of our bellboys will bring out your luggage."

"What? I paid for a fucking room. Now you've got a penguin spying on us, and you're going the throw us out of the hotel?" Hep asked.

The security guard took a couple more steps back. "I don't know about the penguin, but you do need to leave the hotel. Please just leave so I don't have to call the police."

Hep threw up his arms in disgust. "Let's go," he said to Scroat.

They waited out by their bikes, and pretty soon a scrawny kid in a goofy hat came out to them carrying their bags. He looked wary.

"It's ok, we don't have anything against you." Hep said.

"Man, you guys freaked out the entire staff," the kid said. "They're going to be telling stories about the guys who attacked our penguin for years."

"Hey, maybe if your fucking penguin wasn't fucking spying on us, we wouldn't have fucking attacked him." Scroat said.

"Uh, ok, pal. You have a good night now." The kid walked back to the hotel.

"So what now guys?" Jim asked.

"Who fucking knows?" Scroat said "Shit, I've got to go for a walk." He stalked off, waving his arms and ranting about how "penguins don't belong in the middle of the fucking United States anyway."

Hep said to Jim, "There's some grass over there. Seems pretty quiet. I guess I'll sleep there." He started over to the grass. "Uh, stick around, would you? If anything weird happens, wake me up."

"Sure thing," Jim said. He picked out a good spot, and watched Scroat stomping around the far side of the parking lot yelling about penguins, conspiracies, and his plan to kick Tommy so hard in the nuts that it would take Tommy four years to find them again.

Chapter 9

2006-11-03T21:57:00.001-08:00

Scroat was enjoying the attentions of 2 ladies when Hep spotted his bike outside Sue's Fantasy Club. Hep pulled in, and wandered into the club.

"Good evening sir" a provocatively dressed hostess said. "What's your pleasure tonight?"

"Well, I'll be pleased just to avail myself of your bar. My friend is currently enjoying some of your other pleasures, I believe. I'm just waiting for him." Hep replied.

"I see. Well, right this way sir." She led him to the bar, and he sat on one of the stools.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

"Got any ouzo?"

"Any what now?" the bartender asked.

"Just a beer will be fine, thanks." Hep replied.

"Make it two" a woman said as she sat next to Hep. "Hi there, big fella."

"Hi there." Hep said.

"Don't look so uncomfortable," she said. "I'm just waiting for my husband to finish up. It's his birthday, you know."

"Well, happy birthday to him, I guess." Hep said.

The woman offered her hand. "I'm Rita."

Hep shook her hand and said "Hep. Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine. Are those motorcycles out front yours?"

"Yep."

"Where are you headed?" She asked.

"Well, the plan is to eventually meet up with a friend in Minnesota."

Rita leaned in closer to Hep. "Really? You're quite the road warriors then. You know, there's nothing I like better than a long, hard ride."

"Get your hand out of his jacket, ma'am" a voice said. Rita looked around, and shrieked when Jim appeared in front of her. She ran screaming out of the club. Hep checked his pockets quickly, and was relieved to find the tobacco pouch was still there.

Two huge bouncers appeared almost instantly in the bar.

"BOOGA! BOOGA! BOOGA!" Jim yelled and drifter closer to them. The bouncers looked at each other and split.

The bartender started throwing bottles at Jim. Of course, they just went through him and smashed on the floor and wall behind him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?" Scroat said as he hurried into the bar tightening his belt. "I was having a really good time with two lovely ladies, and suddenly there's a commotion out here and they both take off. I wasn't even done yet! Why do you have to wreck my good times? You guys are complete dicks."

"We gotta go. I'll buy you a nudie mag, I promise, but we have to get out of Dodge. Now."

They hustled out to the bikes and got moving.

"Where are we going?" Scroat yelled to Hep as they rode out of town.

"Utah!" Hep yelled back.

"Dammit. You're worse than hemorrhoids! Even Idaho would be better than Utah." Scroat hollered.

"Yeah, but Utah is safer for now. I'll explain it to you later." Hep said.

***
They stopped at a gas station just before the border of Utah, and Hep went in and bought Scroat a couple of girlie magazines.

He handed them to Scroat "Here, I got you 'Cheri' and 'Hawk.'"

"You're still a dick." Scroat said.

"Yep. So look, apparently there are some folks out there who don't want us to get this pouch back to Tommy." Hep said.

"Shit, I don't want us to get it back to Tommy. I want to go back to Sue's fucking Fantasy Club and bust a nut." Scroat glared at Hep.

"Yeah, but you know that we have to get this pouch back to him. And I doubt you're going to be very welcome at Sue's ever again. You might have to try Mona's Ranch." Hep said. "And I think we met one of the trouble-makers, or at least somebody working for them, already.

He continued, "Anyway, we need to keep low-key for a while. You know as well as I do what will happen if we screw this up."

"Remind me to kick Tommy in the balls when we see him." Scroat said.

"Duly noted." Hep said. "Shall we continue?"

"In a minute. Does this place have a bathroom? 'Cheri' and I need some, uh, personal party time." Scroat leered at Hep.

"There's no time for that shit. We need to get into Utah." Hep said.

"Fuck Hep, the whole state will probably burst into flame the second we set foot there."

"I guess we'll just have to take that chance. Let's go."

***
Hep, Scroat and Jim were fortunate in that Utah did not, in fact, burst into flame the second they crossed the border.

They found a tiny, run down motel and checked in. The rooms were tidy enough, but very, very old. The colors and design looked like they had been updated last in the early 1970's.

There were also a hell of a lot of paintings of Jesus on the walls.

"You ever meet him?" Scroat asked.

"Yeah, once. Nice guy." Hep said.

"Ok, seriously you two, you're not helping me get used to the fact that I'm traveling with two gods." Jim said.

"What the fuck are you talking about there, ghost-man? You're dead. Dickens would compare you to a doornail. Personally, I'd compare you to a bug on my visor. Anyway, it's a little late for you to be feeling weird about anything." Scroat said.

"Whatever."

"Say, how did you managed to show up at exactly the right time to stop that lady from picking my pocket?" Hep asked Jim.

"Shit, he was hiding out all invisible trying to see how a real man satisfies two ladies." Scroat said.

"Fuck off, Scroat" Jim said. "The Commercial casino has ghosts. I got to talking with some of them, and mentioned you guys had gotten me out of the forest. They told me they'd heard that some people were looking for you to steal something you're carrying. So I left the casino and started looking for your bikes. It was just luck that I got there when I did.

"So what's the deal with this pouch anyway? Why would someone want it so bad?" Jim asked.

"Well, let's just say that if you wanted to plunge the world into chaos, keeping Tommy from getting his property back would be a good way to start." Hep said.

"Why? Will Tommy hulk out, or something?"

"Nope. But there are some rules that really can't be broken." Hep said. "Basically, if Tommy is prevented from following his own mythology, his world will start to unravel. So we have to play along with his game."

"I don't get it." Jim said.

"Well, that's ok, because you're stupid and just a dead human. Don't worry, we still like you." Scroat said.

"Hey!" Jim said.

"Nah, he's right Jim." Hep said.

"Fuck you guys." Jim said.

"That's the spirit," Scroat said. "Now if you two will excuse me, I've got a date in the bathroom."

Hep got out a map, and started planning their next move. Wyoming was closer and less populated than Colorado, but Hep had friends in Denver.

He decided it might be best to blast through Wyoming, and then drop in to Denver.

"So Jim," Hep said, "What's your deal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how does a ghost end up in the middle of a redwood forest?" Hep asked.

"Well, it's kind of a dumb story."

"Aren't they all? 'Fess up!" Hep leaned forward.

"Well, you know there are people who protest logging the redwood forests, right? They climb up into the trees and live there so loggers won't cut them down."

"Right." Hep said.

"I was one of those protester and..."

"What? They cut down the tree with you in it? That's cold." Hep said.

"No, I picked a diseased tree. One night the wind was particularily strong, and the tree toppled with me in it while I was sleeping. I landed under it. I'm still there, actually."

Hep stared at Jim.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Hep said. "I tell you what, next time someone asks how you died in the middle of the forest, tell them you were attacked by a pack of bears."

Scroat came out of the bathroom looking relieved.
"I'm still pissed off at you guys, but I guess I won't have to kill you in your sleep." He climbed into one of the beds.

"Damn, this bed has got to be older than me." He said. "Good night, jerks."

"I think I'm going to go see what's going on elsewhere in the motel." Jim said.

Scroat mumbled from the bed "I told you he gets his rocks off looking by hiding and looking at other people's junk."

"Have fun, Jim." Hep said. "Try not to scare the bejeezus out of anyone, unless they really deserve it. Or at least have the decency to come get us so we can watch the hilarity ensue."

Chapter 8

2006-11-03T21:56:00.000-08:00

Hep woke up early and wandered down to the lobby to grab some of the flyers for nearby attractions. He ignored the ones for Oregon, and looked at those for Nevada and Idaho. One in particular caught his eye.

"World's largest polar bear, and a coffee bar? I guess a detour is in order." Hep thought to himself. He grabbed a Styrofoam cup of bad coffee and walked back to the room.

Scroat was still sleeping, and Jim was idly thumbing through the Gideon's bible when Hep got in. Hep nodded to Jim and put a finger up to his lips. "Be vewy, vewy quiet."

He picked up his hammer and walked over to where Scroat was sleeping, lifted the hammer, and forcefully swung it down into the bed, inches from Scroat's ear.

"You rotten, cock-biting bastard! Could you at least let me sleep in a bit? I did battle a giant last night, I'm a little worn out." Scroat said.

"There's no time. We've got to get to Nevada today."

"Nevada? I thought we were going through Idaho. What's going on?" Jim asked.

"A change of plan, that's all." Hep said.

Scroat tried to give Hep a suspicious look, but he couldn't suppress his grin. "Aw, Hep. You do love me."

"Meh. You're ok, but I saw that Nevada is home to the world's largest polar bear. And there's a coffee shop close by." Hep said.

Scroat scowled at Hep. "A polar bear and a coffee shop? You're the kind of guy who would promise little kids he would take them to Disneyworld, and then takes them to a fucking burned down warehouse instead and says 'Oh no, Disneyworld's burned down! Tough shit, kiddies!'"

"There's also a casino attached to the coffee shop and it's in Nevada. You ought to be able to stay entertained while I marvel at a big bear and drink coffee." Hep said.

They rode south into Nevada. When they reached Imlay, they found a grocery store and got some food, water, cigars and other essentials. Then they rode out and found the Thunder Mountain Park. Once there, they pulled out their food and ate a bit.

"So, where are you guys actually from?" Jim asked. "I mean, you two don't exactly look like you're from around here."

"Well, I'm Greek, " Hep said. "I guess you could say I'm from Olympus, though I was thrown out. Then they let me back in."

"What's the deal with that?" Jim asked.

"Well, my mom was kind of a bitch." Hep said.

"Yeah, your mom was more than kind of a bitch. She's the bitch that others aspire to be." Scroat said.

"You want to talk about fucked up relatives, Scroat? Or, should I say, relatives you fucked?"

"Aw, fuck you."

Jim looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Umm... so where are you from, Scroat?"

"Australia."

"So how did you two end up in the United States?"

"I think it was all that damn tequila we drank in Mexico. We got lost, came north on a whim, and decided we'd hang out here for a while." Scroat said.

"Umm... so how did you get to Mexico?" Jim asked.

"How the fuck should I know? I was shit-faced. Hell, I'd be shit-faced right now if we weren't on an epic quest." Scroat said, then took a large bite of beef jerky.

"How did you end up in Mexico, Hep?" Jim said.

"Well, I'd met up with another blacksmith, and he thought it'd be fun to meet the Aztecs. They turned out to be a lot less fun than we were expecting." Hep said.

"Let's go check out this park." Hep started walking into the park. It was really less of a park, and more a tribute to the amazing properties of concrete and scrapyard junk.

Scroat stopped to admire a sculpture of a naked woman. "Hot damn, I could go for some of that."

Hep noticed a sculpture of a Native American man holding a disembodied, blond head with a forked tongue sticking out.

"Hey Scroat, think this head is one of your relatives?" Hep asked.

"Hey Hep, why don't you go eat a heaping bowl of shit?" Scroat replied. "Have you seen enough of this place yet? I can't believe we're in Nevada, looking at some crazy guy's art. You know that gambling and prostitution are legal here, right? He started stomping back to his bike.

Jim was flying through some of the pretzel-like arches. If he were actually bound by laws of physics, his aeronautics would have been impressive.

"Let's go Jim" Hep said.
***
They were riding east when the thunderstorm rolled in. There wasn't anywhere for them to pull in, so they just kept riding as the sky got more and more black.

One drop of rain hit them. Then two. Then the gates opened and it started raining so hard they couldn't see more than ten feet in front of them.

And then, as quickly as it started, it stopped.

"What the hell was that?" Jim asked, shocked.

"Welcome to the desert, Jim." Hep said.

***
They got into Elko around three in the afternoon. Hep spotted the White King statue almost immediately, rode up and parked his bike.

He walked over to Scroat and said "Well buddy, I know you're itching for some kind of action, and there's a casino right here."

"Fuck gambling, I saw four different whorehouses. Right now, the only thing I'm going to do is try to decide between Sue's Fantasy Club and Inez's Dancing & Diddling. I'll catch you later, chump." Scroat said, and rode off.
"How about you Jim?" Hep asked.

"Well, I wouldn't mind seeing the bear. But then I think I'm going to go into the casino and see what that's like."

"Alrighty then." Hep said, and strolled into the Commercial Hotel & Casino's coffee shop.
***
Hep and Jim stood gawking at the 10 foot tall polar bear, entirely out of place in a coffee shop so far south of the Arctic Circle.

Jim quietly said "Well, that's pretty neat. I'm going to go check out the casino."

Hep sipped his coffee and kept looking at the bear.

Not too long after that, a familiar voice next to Hep drawled "That's a mighty big bear."

"Howdy Elvis." Hep said.

"Hey there." Elvis replied.

"What's the good word?" Hep asked.

"Well, according to the grapevine, some bad eggs heard about you and that thing of Tommy's. Sounds like they want to make sure he doesn't get it back." Elvis said.

"Oh yeah? Any idea who these people are?"

"Nope." Elvis said.

"Hmm. Thanks for the info, buddy. You want some coffee?"

"Nah, I gotta get down to Vegas, since I'm here in Nevada anyway. I haven't been there for years, you know. I heard they got guys who dress up like me and jump out of airplanes." Elvis looked skeptical.

"No shit? Man, that'd be a sight."

"Yep. Well, you take care of yourself." Elvis put his sunglasses on and started to leave.

"Sure thing." Hep said.

He got another copy, and sat down, staring at the giant bear. He lifted his cup to the bear and said "You're a long way from home, friend."

Hep thought about what Elvis had told him. If people were out to stop them, they'd have to stay low key. Brawling with Jeb in the middle of town probably hadn't been such a good idea.

If he didn't get Tommy's tobacco pouch back to him, bad things would start to happen. Should they fuck up somehow, they'd be contradicting a myth. That might not be so bad if they were all part of the same pantheon, but they weren't. If Hep broke the rules laid out by Tommy's mythology, Tommy's entire reality would no longer be valid.

Would Tommy disappear? Probably not, but things certainly wouldn't go well for Tommy. Bad luck would start to follow him. Really bad luck. And pretty soon, Tommy would die in an ugly way.

And since one mythology had unraveled, the others would be that much easier to destroy.

They were going to need to be careful.

Hep finished his coffee and left. He had to go find Scroat.

Chapter 7

2006-11-02T19:46:00.000-08:00

As they rolled into Portland, Scroat noticed a giant fiberglass statue of Paul Bunyan. Something about it didn't seem quite right.

When they stopped to stretch, Scroat commented "Did you see that Paul Bunyan statue? Something about it seemed funny. I could swear it was watching me."

"That's just an optical illusion. You should know that," Hep said.

"It wasn't like that. I mean, it was really watching me. Seemed familiar for some reason."

"Well, I hope it's not another ghost. We don't have room for any more passengers."

"No shit. Ok, change of topic, where exactly are you taking us? Portland is, you know, a little out of the way if we're heading to Minnesota." Scroat said.

"The Church of Elvis." Hep said.

"The Church of what now?" Jim asked.

"Elvis."

***

The three started up the stairs into the church. At the top, a familiar-looking man with dark hair and gold sunglasses stopped them.

"Elvis, it's good to see you." Hep said.

"Good to see you too Hep. Come on in. Bring your transparent friend too." Elvis nodded towards Scroat. "He's got to stay out here though."

"Aw, fuck you, Elvis." Scroat said. He went back to his bike and lit a cigar while Hep and Jim went in.

As they walked into the church, Jim leaned towards Hep and asked, "Is that, you know, really Elvis?"

"Who else would it be?" Hep replied.

"So Hep, what brings you up here? Something tells me this isn't just a social visit." Elvis said.

***
Scroat waited outside and smoked his cigar. He fumed a little bit about Elvis. There was some bad blood there, going back to when Scroat suggested to Elvis that he start playing regularly in Vegas.

Then he started to think about that statue he saw. Something about it seemed really familiar. Suddenly he realized why.

"It's Jeb! That motherfucker still owes me money!"

Four hundred years ago, Jeb and Scroat spent a drunken evening playing poker. Jeb really should have known better, since he was a god of bad luck, but Scroat was tricky enough to convince him to play several hands of cards.

By the end, Jeb had lost enough that he couldn't actually pay Scroat. Unfortunately, by then Scroat had drunk so much that he passed out before he could demand payment. Jeb split, and swiped Scroat's money while he was at it.

Scroat laughed a bit about Jeb's new look. The last time he'd seen him, he was wearing a snail shell suit. He couldn't wait to catch up with his old friend.

Soon enough, Hep and Jim came out of the church.

"We gotta go back to see Paul Bunyan." Scroat said. "I need to speak with him."

***

When they got to the park where Paul was standing, Scroat wasted no time in getting off his bike and marching up to the statue. He was about as tall as the statue's knee.

"Hey there, you tree-whacking assmuncher. How's it going here in scenic Portland. It's been a while since I've seen ya, shithead." Scroat said.

The statue remained impassive. Hep and Jim glanced at each other.

"Don't play like nobody's home, dick. I know you're in there Jeb. Come out and say hi to an old friend."

"Did that statue just blink?" Jim asked Hep.

"Yep." Hep said.

Scroat was now looking around on the ground. He spotted something, and ran over to pick it up. He returned with a hefty-looking tree branch.

"Jeb, this is going to hurt." Scroat said. Then he swung the branch as hard as he could at the Paul Bunyan statue's shin. It struck with a resounding "CRACK."
"Ow! Fuck! Dammit Scroat, leave me alone." Jeb said.

"Did that statue just ask talk?" Jim asked Hep.

"Yep." Hep said.

Scroat was standing directly in front of the statue now, with the tree branch slung over his shoulder. "I think you owe me some money, Jeb."

"I don't know what you're... OW! Dammit, stop that." Jeb said. Scroat had just hit him in the other shin with the branch.

"I'll stop it when you cough up my sweet moolah, dickweed." For punctuation, Scroat brought the branch down on Jeb's toes.

"Uh, Scroat..." Hep said, but Scroat was too wrapped up in jumping up and down on the statue's other foot to notice Hep talking to him. He was also to busy to notice the gigantic hand rushing to slap him away.

The giant's hand made contact with Scroat's head and sent him flying.

"I told you he has a hard head," Hep told Jim.

Scroat was trying to stand up as the giant started walking towards him and raising it's axe over it's head. He was just able to leap out of the way as the axe made contact with the ground.

"Ha ha! I didn't know you had any fight in you, pussy. I tell you what, why don't you just pay me the money you owe me, and I won't have to keep kicking your ass." Scroat said.

"I don't owe you any money, Scroat. Get lost." Jeb said. The giant swung the axe towards Scroat's head.

Scroat ducked, and bashed the giant's shin again. "Buddy, you owe me plenty of money. You're lucky I'm not charging you some hefty fucking interest on top of it."

The giant reached down and grabbed Scroat. He lifted Scroat up to his face and said, "I don't owe you anything, and you're lucky I don't kill you here and now, little man." Then he let go and Scroat dropped to the ground.

Hep said to Jim, "Fuck. I guess it's time to get involved. Hand me my hammer would you?" Jim struggled to lift the hammer out of the sidecar. It weighed at least 20 pounds, and Jim was a bit out of shape from being a ghost for many, many years.

"Thanks." Hep said as he took the hammer. He made his way over to the giant, who was walking back to his pedestal.

"I happen to know that you do owe Scroat that money, buddy." Hep said. With that, he swung the hammer and hit the giant squarely on the side of the ankle. It tripped up the giant, and he fell.

Scroat was there and jumping up and down on the giant's chest in a matter of seconds. "You donkey-punching son of a whore, I'm gonna fuck you up for that!" Scroat yelled.

The giant tried to get up, but Hep hit his hand and he fell down again. "Friend, it's going to hurt a lot less if you stay there for now." Hep said.

"Ok, ok, no more" Jeb said. He dug in his pocket. "Here's all the cash I have, will that get rid of you for a while?"

"Maybe for a little while. You'd better watch your back, motherfucker." Scroat said. He and Hep started walking back to the bikes. "See?" he said to Hep, "I knew something was funny about that statue."

Hep caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see a Paul Bunyan statue bearing down on them. Without thinking, he threw his hammer. It hit the giant directly in the nuts, and the statue crumpled to the ground in the fetal position.

"Hey! No fucking funny stuff Jeb. Any more of that and we're going to have to get downright mean!" Scroat yelled. Hep went and recovered his hammer.

They got back on their bikes and rode off as Jeb tried to stand up and limp back to his spot.

Scroat was feeling triumphant, Hep was mildly amused, and Jim was dumbfounded.

On the highway, Jim yelled to Hep, "So, did you guys really just fight a walking, talking Paul Bunyan statue?"

"Well, yes, but really we were fighting a god who was just wearing a Paul Bunyan statue like armor." Hep said.

"A god? You guys just fought a god?" Jim asked.

"Sure."

"You guys aren't just a couple of bikers on a road trip to visit a friend, are you?"

"Nope." Hep said.
***
Hep and Scroat met each other about 500 years ago. As their worshippers moved on to other, newer religions, they had both found themselves essentially out of work. They bumped into each other as they were individually exploring the world, and meeting other laid off gods.

Hep was in the middle of what is now Mexico, drinking with some Aztec deities when a scrawny, foul-mouthed guy staggered into the party asking where he could "lay some fucking waste, if you know what I mean." By the end of the night, they were good buddies, which was a good thing, because the Aztec gods were mean drunks spoiling for a fight.

The next morning, sore from the previous night's brawl, they set off to see if there were any interesting folks further North. So far, Hep had been disappointed because all the old gods seemed so defeated, just because their religions were dead. It seemed to him that having fantastic godly powers and no worshippers to worry about was a good deal. He didn't need to hang around with a bunch of mopey, out of work gods.

Scroat, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself just fine. Hep later learned that Scroat was getting along as he always had, since he'd never really had any worshippers in the first place. As long as there was profanity to be heard, Scroat was a happy camper.

***
That night they stayed at a crummy motel on the east side of Oregon.

"So where are we headed next?" Scroat asked.

"Idaho." Hep said.

"You have to be fucking kidding me. Idaho? We couldn't have gone through Nevada? Shit, I had to put up with waiting for you to get done blowing Elvis, or whatever the fuck you were doing, fight a damn Paul Bunyan statue, and now you're going to make me go through Idaho?

"The least you could do is take us down through Nevada. I need some pussy, and I've even got some cash to get it. Shit, I've got enough cash to even get you some pussy, you ugly jerk. But, no, we're going through Idaho." Scroat turned off the light next to his bed.

"Good night, dickhead." Scroat said, and went to sleep.

"So, uh, who or what exactly are you guys?" Jim asked Hep.

Hep looked at Jim. "We're gods."

"So, what, you guys just run around having a good time drinking, fighting and fucking?"

"Oh no, we ride motorcycles a lot as well." Hep said.
"What about people's prayers and, like, smiting things and, y'know... stuff."

"Jim, you could say we've been out of work for a while. Well, I've been out of work. Scroat is the same as he's always been."

"What do you mean, out of work?" Jim asked.

"Well, it's not like anyone has worshipped me for, oh, one thousand eight hundred and fifty three years, give or take. So, yes, we basically just run around having a good time drinking, fighting and fucking." Hep said.

"And you're ok with this?"

"To be honest, I was pretty pissed off for the first seven hundred and thirty two years. But I've calmed down a bit. There's no need to cry over ancient history."

"I don't know. That seems pretty messed up." Jim said.

"The world is pretty messed up. My problems are tiny in comparision to some of the shit that goes on. Have you heard about that craziness going on in Jerusalem? I'll tell you what, those gods that still have worshippers can keep them, for all I care. I never liked you people all that much anyway. You guys are no end of trouble.

"I have to admit you're kind of funny now and then, though. Good night, Jim."

Chapter 6

2006-11-01T20:09:00.001-08:00

Hep, Scroat and now Jim continued North towards Portland. They stopped for lunch at a tiny diner.

"Jim, can you stay invisible?" Hep asked.

"Sure, why?"

"Well, unless you're planning to eat, I don't think the waitress really needs to know you're with us. It might make things weird." Hep said.

"Oh, right." Jim faded.

"That's a good trick Jim. You gotta teach me how to do that sometime," Scroat said.

"I'll see what I can do," Jim muttered.

Hep pulled open the door to the diner and they went in. Hep was pleased to see that they had an honest-to-goodness counter to sit at.

Jim did a pretty good job of staying invisible, although he couldn't help but comment on how good the food smelled when the waitress brought it out.

"Sorry, my buddy here is working on his ventriloquism," Hep said when the waitress gave him a funny look.

"That's right!" Scroat said. "I'm gonna be a star, baby!"

The waitress rolled her eyes and walked off.

"Keep it down, shithead." Scroat said to Jim.

"Sorry. I haven't gotten out much lately." Jim stayed silent for the rest of the meal.

Scroat and Hep were also silent for the rest of their meal. Hep thought about Tommy's visit. It was weird that he'd just showed up; he hadn't seen or heard from Tommy for almost 60 years.

Hep last saw Tommy trying to pick up a waitress in a bar in New Mexico after a disastrous run in with a couple of locals in a nearby town. Hep was along working as Tommy's "driver," even though they both knew he was really there as a heavy - someone to solve problems that couldn't be solved by smooth talk.

"Gentleman, I have a business proposition that you're going to love," Tommy told them. "I'll sell you a supply of cleaning chemicals, and marketing materials. Enough that you can go out and start distributing them to other people who want to go into business for themselves. You can't lose! It's just like being the folks who sold mining tools to prospectors during the gold rush; you're going to make money no matter what."

"How much is all this going to cost?" one of the local men asked Tommy.

"For you, almost free." Tommy grinned and got into some of the finer details of his pitch.

Eventually, they paid him, and Tommy promised delivery of the products. Of course, he never actually delivered on his promise, and didn't leave town quickly enough to get away before they caught on. Hep and Tommy managed to get away from the angry locals and their friends, and blew town immediately. After they stopped for a drink in a neighboring town, Hep decided it was time to go his own way.
***
While Hep was lost in thought, Scroat was busy wondering if he was ever going to get a refill on his coffee.

They finished up, paid the check, left a crummy tip and left. Once they were by the bikes, Jim slowly became visible again.

"You wouldn't believe how much work it is staying invisible. I mean, it's not that bad when you're off by yourself in the middle of a forest, but when you're really trying to avoid being seen..."

Scroat cut him off "Man, don't give us any of that ninja bullshit. You couldn't have been working too hard at it, because you sure didn't have any problem talking. Even though you weren't supposed to be there. And things that aren't there don't fucking talk."

Jim quietly drifted into Hep's sidecar and sat down. He worried that he might lose his ride, and this was the furthest he'd managed to get from the woods since he'd died.

"Are you just gonna take that garbage from him?" Hep asked Jim.

Jim looked at Hep, mildly shocked.

"He's just talking shit. If I were you, I'd hit him upside the head with a hammer. It's ok, he's got a damn hard head. And there's nothing but shit in there anyway. At least, that's what I gather from how he talks." Hep said.

"So you're not mad?"

"Fuck no, you backwoods, shit-kickin' apparition." Scroat chimed in. "I wish you would have kept talking once you had her attention. We already had our food, there was nothing to lose at that point. Shit, we probably would have gotten lunch for free."

"Let's go." Hep said. They started up the bikes again and pointed them North.

Chapter 5

2006-11-01T20:07:00.000-08:00

"You shitty, horse-faced motherfucker! What's your problem?" Scroat yelled. "We're on an epic quest here. Do you really need to wake me up that way?"

"I gotta do what I love."

"You're such a dick."

The sun was just starting to rise. Not that they could really see it, being in the middle of a redwood forest, but it was lighter than it had been, so it was time to get up.

Scroat was taking a leak when he heard someone speak behind him.

"Hey there."

"Hey there. Before you say another word, I should warn you that I'm pissing. Any funny business, and your day might get a lot more damp," Scroat said.

"Yeah, I can see that."

Scroat shook, zipped and turned around.

"Ok, motherfucker, where are you?"

"I'm right here," the voice said. "Look harder."

Scroat did, and saw a barrel-chested man in a plaid shirt. There was something kind of weird about him though. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, unless...

"Say there, you're kind of transparent, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"So, uh, are you a ghost?"

"So it would seem."

"Well, boo hoo, motherfucker. Are you expecting me to run off all scared?" Scroat gave the ghost his best you-and-I-both-know-that-ain't-gonna-happen grin.

"Yeah, I was expecting it, but I'm glad you didn't. I'm really sick of people losing their heads and running off screaming. Don't get me wrong, it was awfully funny for the first five years or so, but it's really put a cramp on my social life lately."

"Uh huh. So is there something I can do for you, or were you just getting your rocks off watching me piss?"

"Nah, I just want to talk to someone. My name's Jim."

"Jim, I've got places to be. So if you want to talk, you'd better just tag along behind me." Scroat started walking back to their campsite. Jim drifted along behind him.

"Hep, this is Jim. He's a ghost, and he likes watching guys pee. Jim, this is Hep. He's ugly as shit, and gimpy to boot. Don't ever ask him to wake you up." Scroat walked over to his bike and started digging around in his duffel bag.

"Hi Jim, what can I do for you?" Hep asked.

"Well, I was hoping you guys could help me find my way out of these woods. I've been here for years, and no matter how many times I try to leave, I always end up back at that fallen tree over there."

"Well, I guess you can ride along with me until we're out of the woods. You aren't going to leave any weird shit on my stuff are you?" Hep asked.

"Weird shit?"

Scroat chimed in, "Yeah. Slime, or ecto-whatever... you know, ghost-jizz."

"Oh. Uh. Ummm. No. I'm not."

"Alright then. Get in the sidecar."

Chapter 4

2006-11-01T20:06:00.000-08:00

Around midnight, they hit the edge of a redwood forest. Hep turned down a barely visible road and Scroat followed. They looked for a good spot to sleep for the night, set up camp, and were deeply asleep within seconds of laying down.

They were somewhere near Arcata, California, about 90 miles from the Oregon border. They didn't know it yet, but something was watching them from high up in the trees.

Chapter 3

2006-11-01T20:05:00.002-08:00

"So you're telling me that Tommy, the noxious little dick-scab, left his tobacco pouch when he left? Dammit! You'd think that after the fifteen-thousandth time, he'd realize that he's just going to make an ass of himself again." Scroat said.

"You'd think." Hep said.

"Well, shit fire and call it a pound cake."

Scroat was also a god. He didn't have any worshipers, exactly, but he was always pleased when someone chose a small filthy word instead of something more eloquent. Hep liked him; even if he was a bit crude, he was fun to have around.

"Do you know where he is?" Scroat asked.

"Sure, he's at home," Hep said.

"We have to go to Minnesota?" Scroat exclaimed. "That filthy motherfucker! Shit, not only to I have to put up with your ugly ass scaring off all the girls, but I have go and freeze my balls off too?"

"In so many words," Hep replied.

"Well, dip me in shit."

"Are you packed?" Hep asked.

"Of course I'm packed. Are you packed? Got your gimp-cycle all ready to go?"

"Naturally."

Hep was a tinkerer. He'd been a blacksmith for eons. As far back as he could remember, actually. He currently worked on and off as a welder. He really only did that when money got tight, though. What he really loved was building mechanical things, and building them really, really well. Of course, although his arms and brain work just fine, his legs were gnarled and barely functional. He'd been lame since birth, although he could walk with the aid of a staff or cane.

He was also pug-ugly. Our man Hep fell out of the ugly tree, and hit every branch on the way down, to borrow an oft-used cliché.

Hep sure loved motorcycles though. Since he had a little trouble standing, he usually preferred a side-hack or occasionally a trike. His current steed was an unusually beautiful, and eerily fast, side car. He'd cast, forged and shaped every piece of that bike. It was polished to a glistening shine, and required no maintenance. Ever.

Being a god has it's perks.

One problem that he hadn't quite figured out, though, was somewhat comical. Any music left in the side car for more than an hour, be it tape, cd or vinyl, would turn into either Steppenwolf's greatest hits, or AC/DC's Highway to Hell.

Scroat would never admit it, but he had charmed the sidecar, and loved to watch Hep's reaction when he expected to hear Bach, and got "Magic Carpet Ride" instead. He got the idea from a particularly entertaining book he'd read.

Scroat's bike, though also infallibly reliable, was considerably less pristine. It looked a lot like an old Triumph Bonneville, painted flat black and dripping oil as though it were marking it's turf. For all anyone knows, it might just be.

Hep had already packed everything he needed into the sidecar. He was careful to exclude any of his favorite music.

Scroat bungee-corded a duffel bag packed with a couple changes of underwear and some extra cigars to the back of his bike.

"Ready?" Scroat asked.

"Yep."

They fired up their bikes and rolled out into the desert. Hep wanted to see something in Oregon, so they headed north.

Chapter 2

2006-11-01T20:05:00.001-08:00

The night before, an old acquaintance dropped in to visit. He was unexpected, and marginally welcome. Tommy, though fun, was always trouble. His main problem was his desire to impress other people.

More importantly, he wanted other people to owe him favors.

Tommy had been around as long, if not longer, than Hep and Scroat. He was also a bit of a creature of habit. He had a bag of tricks, and although it was small, he loved each one of them and used them as much as he could.

So after he'd enjoyed Hep's hospitality, he planted his tobacco pouch on Hep's bookshelf and waited until the time was right to make his exit.

By the time Hep found the tobacco pouch, Tommy was long gone.

When Hep noticed the addition to his bookshelf, it took him a while to figure out where it came from. When he finally realized that Tommy had left it behind he muttered something profane to himself, and started packing.

He had to return Tommy's property. He couldn't have kept it even if he'd wanted to. No, he had to play the game, because as a god, he had no other choice.

Chapter 1

2006-11-01T20:04:00.000-08:00

Ezekiel 13:20 - Wherefore thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, I am against your pillows...

Most people, when woken by a five pound hammer slamming down next to their head, wake up terribly frightened. Scroat, however, was accustomed to such methods, having been awakened daily for the last 200 years in precisely this manner.

"You shitty, horse-faced motherfucker! What's your problem?" he yelled.

Hep, Scroat's friend and roommate for the last 200 years, was similarly accustomed to Scroat's morning curse.

"Get up and pack. We've got an epic quest to begin." Hep started to leave the room, swinging his hammer as he walked.

Scroat rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and climbed out of bed.

"What the fuck are you talking about, motherfucker? An epic quest? Aren't we a little old for that? More importantly, aren't we a little forgotten?"

Hep turned and said, "You'd think so, but here we are."

He left the room, and soon Scroat heard him rattling around in the kitchen.

"Fuck," Scroat said.