EYEHEARTZOMBIES

I had saved up quite a bit of money over the years. That first big pay off, the job where Simon got killed, had lasted me for a long time. Sure, I spent more on broads than I should have, but you have to enjoy life while you have it. I never found a frail I wanted to spend the rest of my time with, haven’t yet anyway, so I was able to toss most of ‘em before they sucked too much of my money away. I wasn’t one that went overboard one booze, and I never got onto the money leech known as drugs, so I had enough to throw around for snatch and still have some to put in the bank at the end of the month.

I stopped by a bank and pulled a few thousand out to facilitate my cross-country drive. Then I left Saint Louis and never looked back. I loved the arch, but the city was dirty to me. Too many kids doing grown-up jobs, too many people trying to be bigger than themselves. So I left for a city even more full of big egos and small warlords.

I left Saint Louis driving west toward Kansas City, two hundred and thirty-five miles away. The Plymouth seemed to float down the road and I got about a hundred miles that night. I stopped at a little mom-and-pop motel for the night. The old man behind the counter seemed almost troubled to take my five dollars for the night. I paid him, tipped him an extra two dollars and asked to not be disturbed for anything. He assured me I wouldn’t and I went to my room. The key he had handed me was for room number five.

Room #5 was a single-bed, a sink, a bucket for ice, and a bathroom with just a shower stall and a toilet. It was all I needed for a night, though. I laid down on the bed after sliding my shotgun under it and fell asleep in my clothes. I woke up around six-thirty the next morning, showered, shaved, and left after dropping the key off through the mail slot in the office door. I picked up breakfast at a diner, two eggs sunny-side up, sausage, hashbrowns, and coffee thick enough to stand a spoon up in. Then I hit the road again, eating away at the hundred and thirty-five miles left until I reached Kansas City.

I pulled into the City about two hours later, around ten o’clock in the morning. I wasn’t in a great hurry to reach Vegas, and I knew I’d be on the road for quite awhile before reaching my next big city, Albuquerque. I decided to spend the night in Kansas City and start my trek into the desert tomorrow.

I found a nice hotel in downtown and checked in around noon. I grabbed a bite to eat in the hotel restaurant for lunch, a sandwich and some tomato soup, then decided to walk around town.

I passed by several shops and curiosity stores. I stopped in a tobacco shop and picked up a few cigars and some rolling papers and tobacco. I’d always wanted to learn to roll my own cigarettes and the clerk showed me how. I sat on a bench in a park in downtown an hour or so later and rolled my own for the first time. I spilled about half of the tobacco out on my lap at first, but in the end I managed to get a serviceable smoke. I sat and puffed and watched a couple of squirrels chase each other around a candy store paper bag.

I got up from the bench a few minutes after I sat down and started walking around again. I found an old theater tucked away in the back of a shopping arcade that was showing some slightly older movies for a nickel. I saw they were playing Sabrina that night at seven. I had really liked Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, so I decided to give it a go.

I stopped in a small cafe near the theater around five-thirty or six to have dinner before the movie. I ordered a steak and mashed potatoes and I don’t think I’ve ever had a better piece of meat. It seemed to part before my knife without even cutting it, like Moses and the Red Sea. I was sad to see the last piece on my fork. I paid for the meal and tipped fifty percent. Full, satisfied, I walked the couple of blocks between the cafe and the theater. I bought my nickel ticket and sat down to watch Sabrina.

I miss the old movies. The ones that flickered and danced off of the screen at you. You’d sit in a hard-backed chair for two hours, completely oblivious of where you were at, wrapped up in a story. And after that two hours, you’d stand up, stretch, and walk out, filled with the story. Movies aren’t like that now. Now they’re just sex and violence, cursing and fart jokes. I miss the old grand storytelling. I guess it’s just one of the ways that the world has moved on.

Anyway, after Sabrina I walked back to the hotel remembering the romance between Bogart and Hepburn. They were so great together. I wish they had made more movies. I had nearly started crying with laughter when Bill Holden sat down on the wine glasses and filled his ass full of glass. Actually, that wasn’t the really funny part. What got me was the hammock with a hole cut out for his injured rump!

I got back to the hotel and went up to my room. I was on the third floor, suite 306. I had a bed, king-size; a bathroom with tub and shower, toilet, and sink, of course; a wet bar and a small patio looking out over Kansas City. There wasn’t much to look out over, but it was a nice view all the same. The moon was still full and it cast a silver glow over everything. I hadn’t been around anything killing all day. I hadn’t even thought of it. It was a very refreshing break.

I went inside from looking out over the balcony and called Ray on the suite’s telephone. His wife, Anna, answered. She still had that wonderfully sultry voice and I still felt weak at the knees everytime I called and got her. She said Ray was out with some of the boys. I had forgotten that it was midnight over there, I had probably woken her. I apologized and she said she’d been up anyway, waiting on him to come home. I told her I’d call back tomorrow morning and she hung up the phone.

I went over to the wet bar, took out a beer, popped the tab and took a big swallow. My life seemed so empty that night. It was probably just the movie. I always seemed to get caught up in the glow of the movie screen. Real life always seems so dull and dark. I finished the beer, took a shower, and went to bed.