Molotov Hearts - Part III, Chapter 9 & Epilogue

by Chris Eng, illustration by Karlene Harvey

Click here for the previous chapter.

CHAPTER NINE

The four of them descended the stairs during ‘Independent Women’. The basement was a zoo. Word of the cover song had made the rounds in the community since their last show and had elevated the gig to nearly legendary status. The crowd tonight was evidently pleased about the repeat performance.

There were no wallflowers. People had either stayed to dance or left for the comfort of the yard. Considering how tightly it was packed down there, Spit assumed most people had chosen the basement. He’d never seen anything like it. Where there would normally have been a rigidly-defined barrier of people on the edges of the pit, watching the band and pushing people back when they careened away from the centre, there were now just people being less intense in successive waves. The nucleus of the pit was a maelstrom of arms and heads, thrashing to such a degree that from his vantage point on the stairs, Spit thought he could see steam coming off them. By the time the crowd reached the walls there were row after row of people dancing in place, alone with themselves and the music. It was fucking miraculous, he thought to himself. Becky, dancing off to the side of the band, looked beatific.

MJ had been in a good half-dozen bands before Peak Oil and he’d seen her go through the motions but tonight she was at the top of her form, playing like she had something to say, something to prove, something to share.

And Jenn? Jenn was radiant. Spit had never seen her so alive, so filled with energy.

The crowd sang along with the chorus and it was almost deafening. Spit let out a long peal of laughter at the sheer fucking fantastic nature of it all and he ran down the stairs, dodging out of the way of people as he went, hopping and sliding and wedging himself through impossible gaps to make his way to his girlfriend, his love.

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Molotov Hearts - Part III, Chapter 8

by Chris Eng, illustration by Karlene Harvey

Click here for the previous chapter.

“I hear your girlfriend’s in Peak Oil now.”

Spit and Chezz sat on the front porch in deck chairs, cans of Pilsner in their hands, their feet up on the railing.

“Yup, apparently.”

“I heard they’re playing tonight.”

“In just a couple of minutes, yeah.”

“Want to head inside?”

“Enh—we’re still good for time. We can go when I’m done my beer.”

“You’re a lucky bastard, you know,” Chezz said respectfully.

“I am.”

“She’s hot… and smart…”

“Dude, if you hit on my girlfriend, I’ll break your legs.”

“I can still fuck with my legs broke.”

“Not if I tear them off and beat you to death with them.”

Laughter filled the night air and they fist-bumped each other.

“Hey, man, seriously—how come I can’t get a girlfriend like that?”

“Because you’ll bang any girl in sight, and consequently Snickers is the only one who ever wants to come back for seconds.”

A car screeched around a corner somewhere in the distance.

“I like having sex with different girls.”

“And therefore nice girls want nothing to do with you. You see how this all fits together, don’t you?”

“Nope.”

“Yeeeeeeah. You should probably just let it go.”

Thin strains of music came up and out of the walls.

“Hey, are they starting?” Chezz asked.

“Sounds like it. Let’s finish up and head in.”

The screeching came again, much closer this time, and a Range Rover tore up the block and skidded to a stop in the road in front of them.

“What the–” Spit managed to get out.

As they watched, a woman exited the SUV, slammed her door shut and stomped toward them.

“Oh, shit,” Chezz said quietly.

“What?”

“Dude, that’s Jenn’s mom.”

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