The Upper Hand by Johnny Shaw

Author:Johnny Shaw [Shaw, Johnny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503900738
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2018-07-02T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

Kurt hadn’t been back to Warm Springs since the move. He hadn’t had any plans to come back, but Louder was throwing a party for Pepe’s early release from the hoosegow. It would be just the three of them, but that was their kind of party. Skinripper hadn’t jammed in a while.

Kurt had expected to get choked up seeing his house again, but he didn’t shed a single tear. He also didn’t see his house again. The house was gone. It wasn’t there. The spot where it used to be had become a giant hole in the ground surrounded by a chain-link fence. He walked to the end of the block and read the street sign. Sure enough, he was on Custer Road in Warm Springs.

Brother Tobin Floom hadn’t just taken his family home but had for some inexplicable reason destroyed it, too.

Walking back, he saw Mr. Panowich, their mailman for the last ten years.

“That you, Kurt Ucker?” Mr. Panowich said. “No mail. No mailbox. No house.”

“When did this happen?”

“Not soon after your change of address,” he said. “Strangest thing. It didn’t happen in a day or a week. It got took apart slow. Maybe they were salvaging.”

“It was a good house.”

“It seemed it. Every day I came by, another piece was gone. You ever read The Langoliers by Stephen King?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Good reference.”

“How’s life in Encinitas?”

“How did you—you’re the mailman.”

“Officially, a postal worker, but I’ve always preferred ‘mailman.’ Friendlier.”

“You ever feel lost, Mr. Panowich?”

“Naw. The route don’t change, and I got GPS.”

“Not for real, but in your head? In your life?”

“All the time, son. All the time. Anyone that tells you different is an idiot or a liar.”

Kurt’s phone rang. Mr. Panowich gave him a hard slap on the back and walked down the road. “Maybe that’s someone calling to get you unlost. Good luck and God bless.”

Kurt answered his phone. “Hey, Ax, what’s up?”

“Finally figured out your part in the plan. It’s got to be you.”

Kurt stared at the hole that held his childhood and his past. “Ain’t nothing here. I’m ready to help.”

“I need you and those friends of yours that you play music with. I got you a gig. The three of you need to drive your van to Louisiana. I figure three days if you stop to sleep and drive in shifts. By the time you get here, you need to be a credible Christian rock band ready to perform three or four songs.”

“I have reservations, but I don’t even know where to start,” Kurt said. “From the over-under on the van making it farther than the Arizona border, let alone across the country, to the assumption that my friends can just drop everything and hit the road for the flippant idea that Skinripper can easily transform itself into a Christian band.”

“Details,” Axel said. “Say you’ll do it, and we’ll figure it out.”

“The bar is low musically. I’ve heard enough Christian music to know what it sounds like. If I shoot for parody, I might come close.

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