custodians, one Latino and the other Thai, wearing matching blue overalls shook hands with Goss.
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“My hand’s still shaking, my friend,” said the man named Javier, who was only a few inches taller than Poe. “Ten years of this shit because I got Montezuma’s nose and dusky skin. I don’t know how to thank you all.”
“There’s a halfdead missing,” Sister blurted out.
“Javier here tells me you were all tied up by a female halfdead. Any ideas where she could be?”
“No, Sister,” Reuben, a tall gaunt Thai American fellow with sad droopy eyes answered. “She must’ve snuck out, maybe to get reinforcements.”
“Let’s get out of here pronto,” Sister said, breathing heavily and shooing the dazed cattle to the door. She was nauseous herself from the blow to her head.
(((
The nun had the urge to slap the unfortunate heaps of humanity until they gave a good enough imitation of a live person. Instead, Sister Ann took out a bag of protein bars and handed them to the nearest lucid cattle to distribute as she prodded them outside the building.
“Jesus, save us,” Sister muttered when she spied a hugely pregnant cattle wearing a stained hospital gown. Her backside dotted with bedsores was exposed for all the world to see. The nun wiggled a voluminous slip from under her habit and stepped out of it. The slip used to be pristine white; now it was dirty-water gray.
Quickly she put the slip over the pregnant woman’s head and secured it on top of her belly.
“The rate these goons are going, future children will all be fathered by contaminated, hophead leeches,”
commented Reuben. “And the kicker is every single Ritalin tab’s expired.”
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“That’s all we need, more trash slavers with ADHD,” said Goss.
The trek to the edge of Main and 2nd Street by foot took longer than expected because some of the cattle could barely walk. Two semi-tranquilized leeches connected by rope to Goss’ muscular shoulders were sometimes tugged by force to keep them moving. The designated intersection was at the clearest street where a driver could actually maneuver through the zigzag of abandoned cars. They halted before a battered blue pickup truck, blocked by a heavily dented Harley and a shiny, completely out-of-place guacamole-green moped.
“C’mon, get up there,” Goss said firmly but quietly. The buildings had eyes and the missing day vamp could have been following them. He assisted those who couldn’t lift themselves onto the truck bed.
True to their name, the cattle filed in the back of the truck without resistance. Pitiful though they appeared, Poe couldn’t find it in her heart to ridicule them. They were snake-bit Gumbys for vampires to mold and bend at their choosing. Very few defied the venom by shaking off its effects within days to a few months instead of the usual year.
The leeches that had once abused the cattle now had to suffer being sat on like benches by derrieres not completely shielded by hospital gowns. Deflated though the tires looked, they were able to chug along to the team’s satisfaction. Sister Ann hopped on her Harley that had been muted and took the lead, shotgun resting on the crook of her arm. Goss drove the truck and Poe followed in her Vespa, automatically switching on a movie in her head.
“I don’t want a jackhammer between my legs,”
Poe had complained to Sister, who was insistent she choose a proper Honda or Harley motorcycle.
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A Vespa, on the other hand, had footrests perfect for easy cruising. The green model she chose had a basket and plenty of storage space for snacks and weapons. Besides, the Vespa dampened her irrational fear of her shoelaces getting caught in the motorcycle spokes.
With everlasting traffic blocking every which turn, the caravan took a while to reach 4th Street at the Los Angeles River. Poe insinuated herself into Cool Hand Luke, where Paul Newman was having an egg-eating contest. Poe pictured herself among the prisoners, banging on the table and screaming, “Go, Luke, go!!! Swallow them eggs!”
Daydreaming was a dangerous habit to have in the cattle smuggling business, as Poe was well aware but often indulged in. “Grow eyes on the back of your head for the buildings have many spies,” warned Sister Ann.
A voice in her head warned, Be vigilant. There are others. But as usual, she ignored the voice that often saved her hide.
She failed to notice two black blurs that kept about 50 meters behind the slow procession. Poe could have easily spotted them had she not been