Acid Rock

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

«Good-bye, Remo.»

Chiun and Remo had worked their way backstage. The policeman who guarded the stage door entrances in the private side aisles had been confused when the two men approached. The elderly Oriental spoke to the two officers and pulled their eyes to him and the white man who was with him vanished. Just vanished. And when they turned to look for the white man, he was nowhere to be seen. They looked back to the Oriental to question him and he was gone too.

On the other side of the door, Remo and Chiun looked around. Remo felt relieved when he saw Vickie Stoner leaning near a lighting control panel. Stoned but alive, he thought.

He started to move toward her, but Chiun held back, looking in wonderment at the busy backstage, people scurrying about, perhaps apparently in logistical support of the creatures who were out on the stage now, making subhuman electrical noises.

It was then that Chiun said, «Good-bye, Remo.»

«Good-bye? What Good-bye?»

«The Master of Sinanju tarries no place where people sing mugga, mugga, mugga, mugga.»

«Don't listen. Block your mind,» Remo suggested.

«Easy for you, since your mind is always blocked. I am returning to our hotel.»

«Chiun, dammit. Who knows what might happen here? I might need you,»

«You will not. Whatever is going to happen has already happened.»

«You know that for a fact?»

«I do.»

«Who told you?»

«The man who did not blink.» With that, Chiun turned and walked back through the door to the hallway, politely saying «excuse me» to the policemen who had almost convinced themselves that the two men they had seen before were merely apparitions, hysterical visions brought on them by the heavy music of Maggot and the Dead Meat Lice.

Remo watched the door swing shut behind Chiun; he shrugged and moved to Vickie Stoner's side.

«Great, aren't they?» he said.

«Bitchen, man. Bitchen.» She looked around. «Hey, it's you. My one and only lover.» Her face showed real happiness to see Remo.

«If you loved me so much, why'd you run away?»

«Hey, I had things to do and I know you wouldn't let me. Besides, somebody was laying a lot of shit on me about his television shows.»

«From now on, you just stay with me. Don't get between Chiun and his television set and everything'll be all right.»

«Whatever you say, Remo.» She put an arm over his shoulder. «You missed all the fun.»

«What fun?»

«Somebody shot the throat out of Big Bang Benton.»

«That's fun?»

«Ever hear his radio show?» Vickie asked.

«No,» Remo said.

«Him without a throat is fun.»

«Anything happen to you?» said Remo, suddenly cautious and moving around in front of Vickie to shield her from the upstairs box seats which he noticed had a good view of backstage.

«No. I just been listening to my Maggot. Gotta ball that Maggot, you know.»

«I know,» Remo said. «I'm going to fix you up with him.»

«You are?»

«Sure. But you've gotta come up with me now so I can get my plans underway.»

«Well, man, I'd like to, but tomorrow's the Darlington Festival.»

«What's that?»

«Just the biggest rock bash in the history of the whole world.»

«You couldn't miss that, could you?»

«No way. No way.»

«Okay, we'll go there tomorrow.» Remo started to say more, but realized he could no longer even hear his own voice over the sudden roar of sound from the audience. Their voices had been a steady background rumble since he arrived, but now there was a new sustained, high-pitched unison scream. And then, prancing offstage came Maggot, wearing his white suit with the steaks and liver pinned to it, followed by the Three Lice wearing the same costumes, but with less gold braid.

Vickie took her arm from around Remo's shoulder and stepped forward toward Maggot.

«Hey, Maggot,» she called. He looked toward her. «Come here. You've got to meet a man.»

Maggot took one cautious step toward Vickie and Remo. «What happened to Big Bang?» he asked.

«Oh, don't worry about him,» she said. «Nothing serious. This is Remo. I want you to meet him.»

Maggot looked at Remo. He did not extend his hand. Neither did Remo. The three Lice moved up close behind Maggot.

«Pleasure, fellow,» Maggot said.

«Likewise,» Remo said. «By the way, that's a great outfit you're wearing. Who's your butcher?»

Maggot smiled fixedly, saying nothing. One Louse asked, «Vickie, is this guy a friend of yours?»

«My lover. My favorite lover,» she said.

«Him? He's like ancient, man. And look at his hair.»

«You make love with your hair?» Remo asked. «Well… maybe you do.»

Out front, the screaming was growing more intense. «Gotta go back,» Maggot said. «Quiet down the animals.»

«Throw them some raw meat,» Remo said.

Maggot looked at Remo shrewdly for a split second, then led the three Dead Meat Lice back on stage. The screaming doubled and redoubled. Maggot bowed. The three Lice bowed. The audience screamed louder.

Maggot waved his hands for silence. The wave produced chaos, and a surge of bodies toward the thin blue line of policemen who ringed the front of the stage.

Maggot waved again. Another surge. From his chest, he ripped a two-pound porterhouse steak and held it high over his head. In the hot lights, the blood and juice was shiny and slick against the meat. More screams. Like a Frisbee champion, he scaled it out into the audience. Frenzy. Chaos.

Then in an orgy of meat distribution, Maggot and the Lice tore the chops and steaks from their clothes and tossed them out over the audience's heads. As the meat splunked down toward the floor of the theater, little pockets of girls knotted and began fighting for the morsels. It looked like T-bone day at the Salvation Army kitchen. But there were more girls than there was meat.

Maggot and the Lice, after denuding their uniforms, started offstage. The meat had been swallowed up by two dozen lucky girls in the audience. The rest were infuriated. They charged the line of policemen. The policemen, held, bent, broke, and the girls poured like a human flood onto the stage and then out into the wings.

First, Remo had stood there with Vickie. Then the Lice and Maggot had joined them. Maggot was beginning to thank Remo for his brilliant concept about giving away the meat when Remo was caught in a maelstrom, a whirlpool of hot, sweaty, perfumed, almost-clothed bodies that swirled backstage like a wall of water.

Over the shrieks came the baritone voices of policemen, trying to clear out the audience. Remo felt himself pressed against the lighting-control panel. He turned toward it, felt hopelessly confused, grabbed as many switches as he could and began pulling them all down. The fifth one worked and backstage was plunged into darkness.

Screams became shrieks. Remo pinched his eyes shut for a second with his hands, forcing the pupils to widen, then he opened his eyes. He could see as well as if there were a light on, and he moved through the crowd of blinded tenagers and policemen as if they were not there. He moved toward the door to the alleyway. Vickie had gone. Maggot and the Dead Meat Lice were gone. He moved outdoors into the drizzling rain. Pulling away from the curb was a tan Rolls Royce, a gang of girls racing after it on foot down the street.

Vickie had gotten away again.