Johnny Came Home: A John Lazarus Adventure - excerpt

Chapter 5 - Checking Out

Weasel Hopkins tried not to look toward the front doors of the department store. He really resented being sent in alone like some little errand boy, but he could see Johnny's point. Somebody might recognize him in such a public place and, since John Lazarus was supposed to be dead, well, it would be awkward.

Some part of him wondered why Johnny hadn't simply picked up these items before they hit town. He also found it hard to believe that his pal had some sort of super voodoo mind powers, but couldn't use them to do his own shopping. He had seen Johnny skip that rock, right?

He was careful not to make eye contact with anyone, just like he was told. He got everything on the list, paid cash and walked out of the store. He looked across the parking lot and nearly dropped his bags. The Plymouth was gone!

Uncertain what to do, he just started walking, searching the parking lot, hoping Johnny had just moved the K-car. But it was nowhere in sight. Had the cops nabbed him? Had he just sent Weasel in alone to ditch him? He'd only been in the store for about 15 to 20 minutes at most, but that was plenty of time for Johnny to put some distance between them if he wanted to. But why do that after practically begging him to come along? It didn't make sense.

He reached the end of the parking lot. He glanced back, hoping against hope that the car would materialize. No Johnny. Where was he?

Despite his initial panic, he was pretty sure Johnny wouldn't ditch him without a good reason. Weasel spotted an approaching police car. He'd forgotten that the cops had already eyeballed the Plymouth once. Its mismatched fender made it hard to miss.

He kept his eyes on his feet, watching the squad car out of the corner of his eye as it passed. He thought the cop looked at him, but he wasn't sure. Experience had taught him that a lot of cops, particularly the good ol' boys, liked to harass metal heads simply for bothering to exist. It didn't matter if you were just passing through, minding your own business. It didn't matter if you weren't actually causing trouble and had no intentions of finding any. They took his very presence in their redneck fishbowl as a personal insult and practically tripped over themselves to be the one who got to drawl, "You lost, hippie?" or "You ain't from around here, are ya?" Hadn’t they ever seen that first Rambo movie?

He followed the cruiser with his eyes. It looked as if he might have escaped notice, when suddenly the car made a U-turn, flashed its lights and headed back his way. Panicking, he bolted, heading down an alleyway between two storefronts facing the main road. He ran as fast as he could until he reached a dumpster near its end. Chest heaving, he ducked behind it and peered around the side to see if there was any sign of pursuit.

He needn't have worried. The cruiser was on other business.

While relieved that he wasn't being pursued and a little chagrined at having panicked, he was still reluctant to head back out of the alley the way he'd came. Just in case. The alley was a cul de sac, but there was a narrow pedestrian pass between two buildings in the direction of the SuperBig Mart.

Unfortunately, the narrow ended in a chained gate. Frustrated, he kicked the gate, listened to its rattle, and headed back toward the alley. He'd nearly reached it when he heard voices.