The Last Horror Novel in the History of the World by Brian Allen Carr Page B

everyone act blacker,” he says.
    Manny is Mexican and Tyler’s black as they come.
    Manny says, “You like me?”
    “Hell yeah I do,” Old Burt says. “We stole this land from your people.”
    Tyler says, “You like me?”
    Old Burt says, “I’m trying, son. I know it’s not right. I was trained this way. Imagine how long it took for folks to admit the world wasn’t flat.” He shakes his head, “But, boy, I just look at you and think the word nigger.”
    Old Burt loves his guns. He takes the plug out of a twenty gauge pump, walks into his front yard and starts shooting the possums that wander awkwardly in the light, baring their needly teeth when they scare.
    He blasts a few to muck, their bodies shredding open with the shots, skidding down into the dirt where swell hunks of them disappear.
    “I tell you,” Old Burt says, “something ain’t right.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Newscasts show static.
    Mindy lies still in a strange boy’s bed. She has a necklace charm that she drags on the chain. It hisses as a zipper might, makes a sort of music in the otherwise silence. She eyes the TV oddly. She drops the charm on her chest, elbows the boy who rests beside her. “Something’s wrong with your cable,” she says.
    The boy rolls away from her. “So fucking sleep,” he says.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Tim Bittles sits in the dark cabin of his Ford truck, his face aglow with his cell phone’s light. He nods at it, then unzips his pants. He takes his dick firm in his grip, the erect length of it swelling, the faint smell of sweat and sweet. He presses a button on his phone and a bright light flashes, taking a pale picture. “This what u like,” he types, then hits send.
    He waits.
    He waits for a reply.
    For a long time he waits, but nothing.
    He shrugs, shakes his head, and keys the ignition.
    The starter hacks electric, and the engine turns over.
    Tim Bittles puts his dick away.
    Tim Bittles drives into the night.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Blue Parson stands on his rooftop. Rob Cooder sits Indian style picking banjo notes.
    Suddenly, the distant city lights go dim.
    “See that?” asks Blue.
    “What?” asks Rob.
    “The lights?”
    “What about ’em.”
    “They’re gone.”
    Rob stands beside Blue, both dumbfounded.
    “Power outage, you reckon?” Rob asks.
    “Maybe,” says Blue, “let’s check the news.”
    Rob climbs down the tree house ladder, Blue takes the zip line. They cross the yard, enter Blue’s home. The TV, which stays permanently on, says, “No signal.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Teddy sets a box in the back of the U-Haul.
    “I think that’s it,” Scarlett tells him.
    Teddy smiles, nods, then jumps for the handle, hangs from it as the cargo door lowers. “Sure you don’t want to leave tonight?” he asks.
    “Sure,” Scarlett says. “I’ve already rolled out the sleeping bag.”
    The two hug, kiss.
    Scarlett pulls Teddy by the hand and leads him back into their garage apartment.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Tessa says, “Cash only,” when Blue sets the Lone Star sixer on the counter.
    “Who the hell carries cash?”
    “No one,” Tessa says, smiles. “But the machine ain’t working.”
    “Like, ain’t reading the cards? Like, you tried that plastic bag trick?”
    “Shit,” says Tessa, “it ain’t the plastic bag trick.” Her dyed-blonde hair is tightly braided into ropes pulled back into a ponytail of coils. “Thing ain’t connecting.”
    “Shit,” says Blue. “I ain’t got cash.”
    “Sucks to be you,” says Tessa.
    Blue frowns, shrugs. “C’mon,” he says, “lemme pay you tomorrow.” He smiles all his charm at her.
    Tessa takes a blonde braid in her