The Alarm Clock at the End of the World

Part 38

Late The Following Morning

I cover my face and take a deep breath. “She took my notebook.”

Nepotism licks his lips and sucks in a slow, arduous inhalation. “And what is in that notebook?”

“All our research on the Pisceans. I can’t find it, it’s fucking gone.”

Nepotism leans in. “You’re sure she took it?”

“No signs of a break in, nothing I noticed.”

He goes to my  stereo, thumbing through a stack of CD’s. “We need to get it back.” He takes a case out of the stack and puts the rest back on the shelf. “If she reads it, all three of us are going to be in grave danger. You, me, and her. No one can see the connections we’ve made.” He puts the CD case in my hand.

I let go of his collar and look at it.“Powerslave,” I say.

“The Pisceans found the equation,” he whispers. He looks cold in my eyes. “Dead-fucking-men.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand, turning the case over and over in my hands. The Temple of Pharaoh Eddie stares up at me from between standing statues of Set and two Sphinx. Behind them, a massive, golden pyramid ripples with energy as slaves carry a sarcophagus up the steps. Vic Rattlehead could never be so majestic.

“A manual for making kings, dude. Written in the stars,” he says. “The Sun and Moon were Gods that dictated every aspect of primitive man: when he was awake, when he slept, when his lands were fertile, when his women were fertile, all of these things were connected to these two strange lights in the sky. So they started looking at the rest of these lights, finding significance in the corresponding events on Earth. The Zodiac.”

“You lost me,” I say.

“The Pisceans want to make a Divine King.”

“You think Eva stole my book for the Pisceans?”

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” he says with a middle school giggle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You did, you always get that face when you’ve fucked a double-agent!” When Nepotism cackles, I can see his dancing uvula. “How could you do that? I mean, it’s not like there was even a question. You knew she was working against us. She didn’t even try to hide it. How many times is this going to happen before you learn? Don’t you remember Marcy, Mister Literally-Can’t-Shoot-Straight-To-Save-His-Life?”

“What about Venus?” I demand, exasperated.

He points to the CD case. “Look inside.”

I open the cover to the booklet. The Eye of Horus beams a red triangle down the page.

“You know the game, ‘the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon?’”

“Degrees of Separation,” I say apprehensively. “Kevin Bacon is not in the name. Connect him to Jason Voorhees in six steps.”

Nepotism shakes his head. “Connect him to Jason in two. It’s six steps to Godzilla. A friend of his father’s uncle played with a guy that carried the rubber suits to the set. Supposedly you can connect him to anything. I connected him to the Knights Templar. Him and every other jackass that’s ever made a lasting impression on the world.” Nepotism grins like a wolf sighting prey, lips pulling back to reveal his perfect, gleaming teeth. 

Mankind is the only animal that bares its teeth to signify friendship. For all others, it’s a sign they are about to attack. 

Nepotism smiles a wicked smile. “To become part of the conspiracy, you make yourself  part of the conspiracy.”

Go to Part 39