Free Detour to Apocalypse: A Rot Rods Serial, Part Two by Michael Panush Page B

testing you for the past couple months. Ever since that business with Strickland. You proved yourself, and I think you know why.” He stopped and put his hands in the pockets of his coat. He looked tired down to his bones. “I won’t be around forever. I’m going to need a replacement.”
    “Boss…” Roscoe said. “You ain’t gotta talk about―”
    “No, Roscoe. I do.” The Captain faced him. “If something happens to me―because of my age, or because of this business we’re in―I want you to take the job.”
    “Captain.” Roscoe shook his head. “You don’t―I’m not―” He tried to straighten his thoughts. “I’m not the man for the job.” He tapped his green cheek. “I’m the resurrected corpse of some heartless Guinea hitman.”
    “You’re the right man for the position,” the Captain said. “I don’t care about your past or what you were in life. You’ve got the perfect understanding of tactics, vehicles, and weaponry. You can win any battle that you start. You can be mean. You can fight dirty when you need to. But you believe in doing what’s right. You’ll protect your friends and you’ll keep this world from getting any worse.” He held out his hand. “I didn’t know it when Angel clipped you with his car, but I know it now. You’ll find the papers all drawn up when we get back to La Cruz. If anything happens to me, you’ll become the new owner of Donovan Motors. Do you understand?”
    “Boss, I can’t―”
    “Do you understand?”
    The Captain’s voice, tensing around the question, was all Roscoe needed. “Yeah. I understand.”
    “Good.” The Captain took Roscoe’s cold hand. He gave it a squeeze before walking off down the street, leaving Roscoe alone in the dirt.
    Roscoe stood out under the brightening stars, the Tiki torches smoldering along the sides of the road, leaking smoke into the darkening sky. He realized that his lungs had started to inflate again and forced out the air. They belonged empty. Back up the street, the tourists had gone to their cabins and the performers had cleared away. Even the horses had left. Roscoe stood alone in the ghost town. He put his hands in his pockets and kicked at the dust, watching it rise into the air, before trudging back toward the cabin.
    He didn’t know if he could do what the Captain wanted―to lead Donovan Motors and the drivers. He didn’t know if he could protect them. But the Captain thought so, and Roscoe had learned to trust the Captain’s judgment. The Tiki torches flickered and began to fade. Soon Ghost Gulch would be completely dark. It was time to go.
    As Roscoe walked, a light glittered down from the sky. He stepped onto the parking lot outside the cabin and looked up. Something shone down on the pavement like a spotlight. A strange growling sound fluttered overhead, like a wind that stopped and started a hundred times in each second. He looked up. Moonlight gleamed on vast glassy bulbs―at least three of them―hanging under sets of rotors. They had all been painted pitch black. Roscoe’s heart beat again.
    Task Force X had arrived.





Michael Panush has distinguished himself as one of Sacramento’s most promising young writers. Michael has published numerous short stories in a variety of e-zines including: AuroraWolf, Demon Minds, Fantastic Horror, Dark Fire Fiction, Aphelion, Horrorbound, Fantasy Gazetteer, Demonic Tome, Tiny Globule, and Defenestration.
    Michael began telling stories when he was only nine years old. He won first place in the Sacramento Storyteller’s Guild “Liar’s Contest” in 2002 and was a finalist in the National Youth Storytelling Olympics in in 2003. In 2005, Michael’s short story entitled, Adventures in Algebra, won first place in the annual MISFITS Writing Contest.
    In 2007, Michael was selected as a California Art’s Scholar and attended the Innerspark Summer Writing Program at the CalArts Institute. He graduated from John F. Kennedy High School in 2008 and has