The Mustang
By Brendan Dillon and Wayland Phillips
Chapter One
"Come on Brendan, let's take my car."
And so it began.
Wayland's light blue 1968 Ford Mustang had just come back from the shop a week ago. For months, the World Oligarchy's greatest scienticians and technical experts worked to retrofit the car, installing all the latest technology. The Mustang was now spaceworthy; thrusters were installed in the trunk, replacing the taillights. It was launched using a specially designed ramp, built above the walkway at the Enloe Oligarchy Government Complex. The car could even generate a forcefield around the windows while in flight, creating an air bubble and allowing Wayland to hang his arm out the window, even in the vacuum of space.
But with all the developments, they still forgot to fix the holes in the carburetor...
"So what does this thing run on, anyway?" Brendan asked as they approached the car.
"Well, you know how I've always joked that my hair defies the law of gravity?"
"Yeah."
"They did some tests, and apparently my hair really does have antigravity properties. The thruster engines have an electrostatic link with my hair, and that's where it draws power from." Wayland took a drag from his cigarette.
"Erm, okay. So the car only works when your hair is in it?"
"Yep - nobody's gonna steal this baby. No one else can get the car off the ground, because it wouldn't have a power source. And as for the road, I'm the only one who knows how to keep the damn thing running when we hit a stop light."
"Cool."
As they boarded the car, Brendan wondered out loud, "Where are we going, anyway?"
"I dunno. Plans are overrated, remember?" Wayland replied.
An old adage says half the fun is getting there. In Brendan and Wayland's case, this is slightly inaccurate. By setting out randomly, just to find someplace interesting to go, getting there can sometimes exceed 71% of the fun. Especially when Wayland's driving.
The Mustang started after a mere three attempts, and Wayland pulled the car onto the ramp.
"Brendan, I got them to update my stereo system, too. I got front speakers now!"
"You mean to tell me that they made this thing spaceworthy, but the only improvement to the stereo is front speakers?"
"Yeah, but I did get them to fix the hole in the floorboard."
So as not to put a hex on the mission, Wayland popped in a tape of Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride," and floored the gas. The car shook and rattled its way up the ramp and the taillights began glowing bright red, now in thruster mode.
As the car began streaking through the solar system, the glove compartment spontaneously popped open, hitting Brendan's knees. "Ow!" he yelped, slamming it shut again. "You couldn't ask them to fix the latch on this damned thing?" he muttered to Wayland.
"Forgot about it," Wayland replied. "I'm hungry. Wanna get something to eat?"
"Sounds good to me. Where can we get food out here?"
"I dunno, let's just drive until we find someplace."
"Ok."
They soared through the blackness of space, taking a left at one star and a right at the next, just hoping to end up somewhere where they could get some food. Wayland lit a cigarette and rolled down his window. They buzzed the Ringworld just for the hell of it, and took a left. A little later, they were a little surprised when they came across a space station that was actually a shopping mall.
Wayland hit the brakes; new tires had been installed which could get traction on dark matter. They pulled into the parking bay, managing to find an empty space after only a couple of passes, and entered the mall to seek a food court.
The mall was designed extravagantly. It had four stories, and was shaped as one long corridor. In the center, there was a large courtyard, but most of it was closed off due to construction. The corridors were lined with trees transported from Earth, which were growing in planters. A few branches brushed against Wayland's head as he walked under them. He pushed them away.
"You know, in a mall this big, you'd think there'd be at least a couple of interesting stores," Brendan noticed.
"Dude, you've been to the Streets at Southpoint in Durham," Wayland responded. "Forget it. Let's find something to eat."
The duo's eyes glazed over as they entered the food court. There before them lied a wasteland, barren of edible food.
There were no Jersey Mike's or Philly cheesesteak vendors. There were no Japanese places. The only burger place was McDonalds. There wasn't a scrap of food around that was actually worth paying for and eating.
"By the Three Gods of Sandwichmaking," Brendan gasped. "It's a Food Court of Evil."
They quickly started to back away, but suddenly, the trees became animated and began reaching for the two -- especially Wayland and his hair. Wayland fought away the greedy branches, snapping some, but there were just too many. Brendan did a combat roll and dove into a nearby hardware store, grabbing two large pairs of hedge clippers.
The food court customers reacted quickly to the commotion, racing for cover and for the exits. Big Macs and substandard Subway sandwiches fell to the ground as mall patrons panicked en masse. As quickly as the attack began, the food court was devoid of anyone but Brendan, Wayland, and the evil, hair-stealing trees.
Brendan tossed one pair of the hedge clippers to Wayland, and they cut their way to the closest exit. As they ran for the car, an arrow hit Brendan in the upper leg, causing him to scream in agony. Wayland looked back and saw the attempted assassin make a run for it, but couldn't tell who it was. Helping Brendan to the Mustang, he prepared to launch again.
Brendan yelled in pain as the glove compartment popped again, hitting his already wounded leg. He then noticed the automeds that had been stocked up in the compartment. "When did you get these, Wayland?" he asked.
"The lab put those in there when they returned the car."
Brendan applied the automeds to his arrow wound and leaned back. "I have a feeling this is going to be a long day."
Once again, the two were streaking through hyperspace, when Wayland decided to switch to a Tori Amos tape. As he reached to push the eject button, he noticed one of the new buttons next to his radio was blinking.
"Brendan, did you notice this button before?"
"What button?"
"The one blinking red."
"Oh, ummm, no."
"Well, should I push it?"
"Why not?"
"'Cuz it's a blinking red button, who knows what it could do?" Wayland reasoned. "You don't think the trees got to the car, do you?"
"I don't think so, but you never know."
"Well, I guess we should try it out, what the hell."
Both of them closed their eyes as Wayland reached to push the button. The tape ejected, and loud music started blasting from the speakers. Wayland turned the volume down.
"Whoops, wrong button. Damn radio is still louder than the cassette deck."
From light-years away, the Mustang's antenna picked up long-traveled radio waves from Earth. "That was 'Paperback Writer,' the latest number one hit by The Beatles," the radio announcer said from decades in the past. "Thanks for listening to--"
Wayland switched the radio off and reached for the red button again, this time with his eyes open. As he pressed it, he slammed on the brakes as Jason appeared on his windshield.
"LOOK OUT!!!" Brendan yelled, as the car screeched to a halt to avoid hitting Jason. The Mustang stopped dead in space.
"Um, guys?" Jason spoke up.
"Yeah?" said Wayland.
"Your windshield is a commlink."
Wayland and Brendan sat in silence for a brief second.
"Well, I guess that explains what he's doing in a vacuum," Brendan observed.
"Look, guys, I have some bad news. Several pro-Oligarchy bands and singers have vanished without a trace since yesterday."
"Who?"
"The Dave Matthews Band, Shirley Manson, and Yoshiki."
"Who the hell is Yoshiki?" Brendan asked.
"He's the drummer and pianist for X-Japan," explained Jason.
The other two Co-Rulers looked dumbfounded.
"Look, just write him into the damn story, will you?"
"Ok, whatever. So what's causing these disappearances?"
"Well, there's no evidence that it's related, but Oligarchy Intell has noticed some unusual activity from the Evil Trinity of Annoying Singers."
"Not them again...!" Wayland exclaimed. "I thought they learned their lesson in Paris."
"Apparently not, and it gets worse. There's been a personnel change in the Trinity. Alanis Morisette and Celine Dion have taken charge and booted Fiona Apple from the group, since she always screwed up their plans. Now Britney Spears is in training to take her place. Intell thinks that they're operating from off-world somewhere."
"Thanks, Jason; we'll look into it," Wayland said as he cut the transmission.
Brendan glanced thoughtfully at Wayland. "So the Evil Singers are active again... and we were attacked by the Evil Trees on the same day. Do you think they're related?"
"Maybe... We still don't know who shot that arrow at the mall."
"It's worth checking into, but we may have to go back."
"Are you sure, Brendan? I mean, we randomly ended up at that mall, what are the chances of us ending up at a mall where the Evil Singers are?"
"It's called a plot hole; live with it."
"Okay, but one other thing. I don't know how to get back. Remember the time we tried to get lost and weren't able to?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I told the guys not to install an automapper, so we wouldn't have that problem again. I wasn't totally stupid, the car can tell us which direction Earth is, but that's about it."
Brendan grumbled. "Well, we got there by driving randomly before, so maybe we can do it again."
"Okay, but I'm still hungry. If we find any restaurants along the way, we're stopping."
The car started moving again. Wayland kept driving as he always does, just going straight till he found a turn that looked interesting. The two drove for about half an hour, when they suddenly stumbled across a Jan's House restaurant.
Brendan was amazed. "Hey, I didn't know they had these in space," he commented.
"Don't look at me, the only one I knew about is in Greensboro."
They docked with the restaurant, and the two walked inside and ordered their food. The waitress gave Wayland a funny look when he ordered a waffle with bacon and onion rings, but Wayland just shrugged it off. As soon as they finished ordering, Wayland lit a Nat Sherman; in accordance with the Jan's House rule, the food was ready before he finished his cigarette. As the two ate, they discussed their plans.
"So, Brendan, where do we go from here? I'm driving, so there is no way in hell I can get back to the mall. I have to not know where I'm going to keep from getting lost, unless I've been there several times."
"Huh?"
"We're fucked."
"Oh."
A brief silence wafted over the two as they pondered their predicament.
"I have an idea," Brendan finally said. "We can summon an evil spirit."
"Like Jean Chretien? I don't see how that could be any help."
"No, no, not EVIL evil. You know, just kick-ass evil."
"Ah.... I think I know who you have in mind," Wayland said as it dawned on him.
When they finished eating, they walked out to the parking bay and prepared to begin a traditional demonic ritual. (Since neither of them had done such a thing before, the tradition was to make it up as they went along.)
"Lessee," began Wayland. "I guess we should have a bonfire, or something. See any wood?"
"In space?"
"Good point. Ok, we'll just use my Zippo instead. Now, say some ancient-sounding stuff."
"O Mighty Nethergods.... hey, do we even have any Nethergods?" Brendan ad-libbed. "Bring us a spirit, um.... yadda, yadda, send him here, and stuff. Ah, hell, you guys know what I'm talking about, don't you? Let's just get to the point."
"FINE," said a booming voice that seemed to come from no direction at all. Soon, the restaurant landing pad began to vibrate. A deep rumbling noise grew closer.... and closer still. Then, in an explosion of noise and shrapnel, the floor burst open, and an earthbound subway car rolled out. The doors opened, and out stepped Prophet, Junior Grade Mortis.
"Dude, since when do evil spirits arrive on MARTA when summoned?" asked Wayland.
"Hey, other than me and Ted Turner, it's the most evil thing in Atlanta," Mortis explained.
The three began to discuss the plan. "So how are you going to do this, Mortis?" asked Brendan.
"Easy. I'll temporarily transfer from this host body to Wayland, which will give me the knowledge and skills necessary to pilot the Mustang. Then, the holy powers of a General Purpose God combined with the unholy powers of a wraith should create an exponentially more powerful being, capable of seeing into the past and tracing the way back to the Evil Mall."
"Wait a minute," Wayland interrupted worriedly. "Once you move into a new host, doesn't the host's soul die, or become permanently combined or something?"
"If the host is a mortal, yes," explained the wraith. "But since you're a GPG, there should be no problem separating once we're done."
"Are you sure this will work? Has this been tried before?"
"Well, no, you guys are the only gods I've ever met. There aren't many immortals in the netherworld, you know."
Wayland worriedly let out a long breath. "All right, I guess I'm ready. Let's try it."
Brendan climbed into the back of the car and Mortis rode shotgun. As he concentrated, his host body started to become limp. Soon, Wayland's eyes took on an unusual dim glow. Brendan checked Mortis' body for a pulse; he felt nothing. "Erm... guys? You okay?"
Wayland let out an incredibly high-pitched noise which, had Brendan been a mortal, would have made his eardrums implode. Energy pulsated through Wayland's body. As he turned the ignition, his hair began to stand up more than usual, as if electrified. Brendan shielded his eyes from the light show, which was intensifying by the second. Then, all at once, a burst of energy pulsated from Wayland's head through his right arm, into the car, the engine made a "clunk" and within a second it was all over.
Gradually, Mortis became animated as he returned to his own body. Wayland rubbed
his temples and wished he had an
aspirin the size of a golf ball.
"Guys?" Brendan spoke up. "What the hell just happened?"
"Mortis, did I forget to mention that my hair is the thrusters' power source?" asked Wayland.
"Yes, it seems you left out that detail."
"So what does that mean?" Brendan begged, hoping he wouldn't have to play plot exposition device for much longer.
"We just overloaded the hell out of the hyperdrive. Which means we're not going to make it to the mall anytime soon. We can get back to Earth on secondary thrusters, but we'd be limping home."
"Well, that's nothing new. Let's get going."
Several hours later, the Mustang made its final approach to Earth and landed on US-1 North, between Raleigh and Wake Forest. Soon Wayland noticed he was on his last quarter tank of gas. "Dammit.... this thing can fly to the farthest reaches of space, but still gets 14 miles per gallon on the ground."
He pulled into a gas station and started pumping. Brendan and Mortis entered the convenience store to get something to drink. As Brendan eyed the selection of Stewart's soft drinks, Mortis passed a rack of CDs. In true convenience store tradition, the rack contained a very small selection of the worst music imaginable.
He was about to walk away when one of the covers caught his eye. "That reminds me... Brendan, there's something you should know. One of my undead warriors in South America sent me a report yesterday. It seems Alanis Morisette was sighted in northern Chile."
"What was she doing?"
"Apparently, planting tree seedlings."
"Tree seedlings.... shit. We better check on it."
As the trio departed, Brendan reflected on the state of the hyperdrive. "Wayland, how are you going to get the car fixed?"
"Normally, I'd call the original team of aerospace engineers back together, but since we're pressed for time, we'll just head for the Ford dealer."
They arrived at Wakefield Ford and approached the counter. "I need some repairs for my 1968 Mustang," Wayland said to the clerk.
"All right, just a moment," she replied as she called up the appropriate form on her computer. "What's the problem with it?"
"The hyperdrive is blown out, due to a power overload."
"Um... I wasn't aware that a hyperdrive was an option on the '68 model."
"Of course it was. You want to see the paperwork?"
"I'm going to have to get the manager. He'll take care of it."
"Sure."
As the clerk left, Brendan leaned over to Wayland. "How exactly do you plan to convince them that the hyperdrive was built in 1968?"
"Check out these papers, Brendan. I had them made when the drive was being installed." Sure enough, Wayland handed over an authentic-looking forgery of an original warranty. The only differences were that the hyperdrive and other aerospace systems were covered, and the expiration had been suspended indefinitely.
The manager reluctantly printed up a work order and told Wayland to park the Mustang in back. Brendan called the valet at Enloe's newly built parking deck, and ordered his Saturn be delivered to Wake Forest.
Brendan, Wayland, and Mortis loaded into the Saturn when it arrived, and headed south towards Raleigh. After a few minutes, Brendan's phone rang. He quickly checked the caller ID. "Hey, it's Lori!" Not wanting to lose concentration on the road, he handed the phone to Wayland.
"Hello," Wayland said as he turned on the phone.
"Hi, Wayland," said Prophet, Junior Grade Lori. "I'm in town today. I had an appointment at OCB Headquarters about some intelligence reports from Canada. Want to meet and do something?"
"Sure, we're waiting on some work on my car at the shop, but we have Brendan's, and it should be a while before mine is done. What do you want to do?"
"How about a movie?"
"Sounds good. Meet you at the Rialto?"
"Where's that?"
"It's at Five Points, across from Lilly's Pizza. We can eat there after the movie."
"Great! I'll meet you there soon."
Wayland deactivated the phone, and the Saturn sped off down Glenwood Avenue.
When the group found a place to park at Five Points, Lori was already waiting for them. "Hey, guys -- oh, Mortis, I didn't know you were here too. How are things?"
"Not too bad, though we just found out that Wayland's Mustang isn't particularly fond of evil spells."
"I see."
"What's playing here today?" Wayland asked.
"'Niven and Pournelle's Inferno,'" Lori answered.
Wayland's eyes lit up. "How absurdistly appropriate."
They bought their tickets and found seats. The Rialto, the oldest theater in Raleigh, had recently brought back a traditional feature -- newsreels before movies, like the theaters of the 1950s.
As the curtain was drawn, an announcer appeared on the screen with an update on the musician kidnappings. "The Evil Trinity of Annoying Singers -- Alanis Morisette, Celine Dion, and Britney Spears -- has issued a press release regarding their demands for the release of several pro-Oligarchy bands and musicians. One: Fifty percent of future sales from the kidnapped bands. Two: Guaranteed seven-record deal with a major label. Three: One of their songs must be played once an hour on all stations that play the kidnapped bands' music. As of yet, no statement has been issued by the Co-Rulers of the World, mostly due to the fact that, according to our sources, they are lost in space."
"Well, it's good to know we've evaded the media," Brendan whispered to Wayland.
The news ended and the previews began. To the Prophets' delight, the first preview was for the upcoming "Hail to the Oligarchy" movie.
The screen faded from black to reveal a major street in downtown Detroit. Traffic slowly halts as marching is heard somewhere off the screen. Soon a number of horsemen clad in red uniforms gallop down the middle of the road, followed by a contingent of Canadian Mounties wielding assault rifles.
"EAGLE PRODUCTIONS presents..... an ALAN SMITHEE film....."
The Pocket Shuttlecraft sails over the Detroit skyline, sending the Mounties into a panicked frenzy.
"HAIL TO THE OLIGARCHY: THE MOVIE!"
[Steve Buscemi in Oligarchy Army uniform]
"STEVE BUSCEMI as Brendan 'ANTIFRANCE' Dillon!"
[Ving Rhames conversing with a blue CGI elf perched on his shoulder]
"VING RHAMES as Cronan 'BEEFCAKE' Thompson!"
[Jeff Goldblum smokes a cigarette on a starship bridge]
"JEFF GOLDBLUM as Wayland 'TERMINAL' Phillips!"
[Lori Petty with an evil grin, holding some Pixy Stix]
"LORI PETTY as Bevin 'WATCH THE FUCK OUT' Conners!"
[Dave Matthews in an intense swordfight with Christopher Lloyd]
"And Christopher Lloyd as JEAN CHRETIEN, Master of Evil!"
Miscellaneous scenes flash on the screen, including two hang-gliders landing on a Paris street, Little Bob on the dance floor, the Pocket Shuttlecraft exploding brilliantly, Lori Petty slashing at Christopher Lloyd with a hairclip, and a burst of red light exploding from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
"Also starring MIKE MEYERS, CHRISTOPHER LAMBERT, ALANIS MORISETTE, TOM BROKAW, JEAN RENO, and ALLAH, LORD of the MUSLIMS!"
[Barenaked Ladies on stage in Paris]
"Soundtrack available from Oligarchy Records, featuring Barenaked Ladies, Dave
Matthews Band, Garbage, Mystikal, Edwin Starr
and more!"
[Steve Buscemi eating an MRE field ration]
"HAIL TO THE OLIGARCHY: THE MOVIE! Coming to a theater near you this summer." The screen faded to black, and the movie began.
Afterwards, the four emerged and crossed the street to get pizza. Wayland ordered a pesto pizza, and Brendan requested a Cowtipper for the rest of them. As they waited for the food to be prepared, Brendan sipped a bottle of Root 66 root beer and asked Lori how her meeting went.
"Not well. According to the latest intelligence reports, Canada is missing."
"WHAT?!?" Brendan, Wayland, and Mortis simultaneously exclaimed in bewilderment.
"I was kind of confused about this myself. Apparently they sent Matt on an undercover mission to Canada. He came back two months later and said that he couldn't find it. It must be hiding."
"What did he say was there where it should be?" Wayland asked.
"Just water, it seems. They might have stolen the technology France used to build Andorra. He went to the Pennsylvania-Ontario border, and said that there was nothing but water as far as he could see."
"So... you're saying he thought Lake Erie was Canada?" asked Mortis.
"Well, I assumed he tried to cross Lake Erie, and it didn't end where it should have."
"Never assume that Matt did something competent," Brendan groaned. "He must have reached the Lake Erie shore and given up. We'll yell at him later."
The pizza soon dwindled to nothingness. "Well, it's been fun, but I need to get back to Atlanta," said Mortis.
"I should probably head back too," said Lori. "I want to be back home before it's dark."
"Wanna ride my evil subway?" Mortis asked.
Lori raised an eyebrow. "Any time, baybee."
The four said their goodbyes and walked away. Brendan and Wayland went back to Brendan's Saturn and drove off, looking back only to see a MARTA subway car tunneling under Glenwood Avenue, and the front end of the Rialto collapsing from the shock.