“You all look the same to me,” Satan said, starting to leave.
“I’ll see you at the Ultimate Death Match.”
“Seriously? Is it that time again, already?”
“Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind. Do you know the last time I came up with a new torment? One thousand five hundred years ago. My ‘To Do’ list covers six volumes. So sometimes I lose track.”
“Elijah’s predicting a big loss for you this year. Michael’s been working out with a very good personal spiritual trainer. He’s going to destroy you.”
“Don’t get your pretty little halo in a twist,” Satan said. “We’ll be ready.”
“I don’t think so,” Gabriel smirked. “Not in three weeks.”
And then he flew off to resurrect a school tour group who had been eaten alive by a mob of rabid, handicapped athletes on the other end of the concourse.
As Satan stalked off, he didn’t feel a pair of eyes boring into his back, but they definitely existed and they were attached to a nun, hiding in the women’s room, peering out in terror through the cracked door. Her name was Sister Mary Renfro and there was no doubt in her mind that she was witnessing something unholy. So far she had avoided detection and she had vowed to devote herself to 24 hours of unbroken prayer if she could only escape unscathed. As far as she knew, she had avoided the insanity that had enveloped Concourse C,
But what man knows is nothing compared to the knowledge of angels and on the other side of the Concourse Gabriel noticed her peering out of the bathroom and he smiled to himself. This was the work of the Heavenly Host, and it was good.
The last thing to go through Earl Pickett’s mind was a Firestone tire. It came flying off the track of the Summerville Speedway at ninety-five miles per hour, bounced off a telephone pole, changed direction by about forty-five degrees, and then rocketed clean through Earl’s head and planted itself in the bread basket of Dale Gutman, who was just popping open another Budweiser.
What surprised Earl the most was his sudden change in perspective. One minute he was coming back from the men’s room where he’d dry swallowed a couple of Percocets in preparation for getting his buzz on while watching this slobber knocker of a race that was about to bust loose as the Red Bear Hand Cleaner Creeper took on the Appalachian Outlaw in the Drury Sheet Metal Summer Stock Car Spectacular, and the next minute he was looking up from underneath the stands at his buddy Dale, who seemed to have a Firestone tire stuck halfway through him.
“Hey, Dale?” Earl shouted. “Are you okay?”
“Earl?” Dale said, shakily. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, I’m down here.”
A chorus of screams went up from the other end of the Speedway, followed by a muffled explosion.
“Oh, man,” Dale said. “The Appalachian Outlaw just drove into the stands and blew up. Where is you?”
Earl tried to stand up, but his motor control was shot.
“Dale,” he said. “You got a tire in your stomach.”
“Yeah, I know. I think I’m on fire, too.”
“Shit, man. That’s raw.”
Dale peered beneath the stands as best he could and then took out his cell phone and snapped a picture. He turned it around to show Earl.
“Your head’s been cut off,” he said.
Earl looked at the photo of his head on Dale’s phone. He was a good-looking fox, if he might say so himself, but he was also a severed head.
“Is this a joke?”
“Naw, man. You’re just a little bitty chopped off head. Your body’s up here running around like a fool.”
“Then why the hell ain’t I dead?” Earl asked.
There was another muffled boom and a less muffled whump and then more screaming from yet another part of the race track.
“Can’t they keep them damn cars on the asphalt.” Earl snapped.
“It’s chaos up here, man,” Dale said. “I’m coming down there with you. Everyone’s all blown up and on fire and running around hollering. I don’t like this at all.”
“Come on down,” Earl said. “But bring my damn body with you if you can. And bring me one of them beers. My mouth’s as dry as a prick.”
Death stood before Satan’s desk, head lowered.
“What were you thinking?” Satan yelled.“WERE you thinking? I mean, the cars go into the stands, the cars blow up, the people catch on fire, the people die. Weren’t you the one saying that you wanted to work