CHAPTER 13: Angus Apple

This week on APOCALYPSE ROCK, July’s dog Ramses is missing, but not everyone’s missing the dog…

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BY EARLY AFTERNOON A GALE HAD CLEARED THE SKIES. The sun beat down and made the wet earth steam. After several hours of near-intolerable mugginess, the late afternoon had tempered, a reminder of the sweltering summer just gone.

Bear and Brandi stood next to Sternum Island Town Hall’s main entrance, as a stream of people arrived for the meeting. Brandi exhaled a vast plume of smoke from her bright purple vape. Bear’s face frowned into his cellphone.

“Ramses! Ramses!”

July was standing outside the pub parking lot on the opposite side of the road. She was holding a bowl of dog food, calling out into the evening.

“Absolutely shocking!” A raspy, breathless voice exclaimed. It was Gus Vaynerchuck, dressed head to toe in his signature Canadian tuxedo of faded denim jeans and jacket over flannel shirt. The patches of face behind his scraggly gray, braided beard glowed pink.

Bear glanced up from his screen momentarily, nodded at Gus, then put his face back into phone.

“Hey doll,” Brandi winked at Gus. “Crazy times, eh?”

“Now we have break-ins and assaults on the island!” Gus continued in a shrill tone. Gus jerked his head about, nodding gravely at some of the folks going into the hall. “It’s all that pent up anger from the mainland. That sublimated violence, now it’s getting imported over here, it seems! People need to calm down!”

“Yeah, Sweetland stopped by the cafe,” said Brandi. “He said he thinks it might be an assault as well as a break-in. But Doug can’t remember anything at all.”

“Ramses! Ramses!” July was walking toward the hall.

“Sweetland,” Bear scoffed, eyes scanning down his screen. “I mean, of course he knows you’re a friend of Doug’s. But should he really go around telling people things like that? It’s not like a casual chat, right? Especially when he’s the cop.”

Brandi shrugged and exhaled another plume of vape smoke. “No idea what’s proper with things like that,” she said. “But yeah. Sweetland’s batshit.”

“Hey July!” Brandi waved at July, who was trudging up the old wooden steps toward the trio. “Anyone see Ramses yet?” She asked.

“Doug said he saw him out near Collier’s Bend this morning,” July replied, shaking her head in concern. “But not a trace since then.”

“What’s the longest he’s wandered off for?” asked Bear.

“A week, but that was years ago,” answered July, “Nowadays, he’s only ever gone for a few hours. Tops.”

“Ever thought of leashing that dog up?” Gus said. “Now he’s attacked poor Doug. I knew something like that was coming.”

Bear and Brandi kept still. July fixed Gus in a nasty stare.

“Thank you for the input, Angus Apple Vaynerchuck,” July enunciated, “One can always count on you for some kind of opinion. But I must remind you that sometimes, it’s less about the words one uses, and more about how you say them. That said, Ramses does not deal well with being leashed up. As you know, I do not subscribe to the master-slave relationship. Whether between humans, animals, plant life. Even minerals for that matter.”

July placed the bowl of dog food to the side of the main door, and shook her head slowly at Gus.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Brandi consoled.

July gave Gus a disapproving glower and then turned her attention back to Bear and Brandi. “I know. I know.” A smile crossed her face and she leaned in towards the two, purposefully excluding Gus. “It’s going to be an interesting one tonight. Stay tuned.” She said in a lowered voice, winked, and then went inside.

Gus sighed. “That woman’s always got something cooking. And it never smells good. If you get what I mean.”

Bear and Brandi didn’t get what Gus meant, but they knew enough to stay quiet. It had been many years since Gus and July had been an item, and the resentment had now settled into a mostly civil standoff, a sort of Cold War. Among other challenges to their defunct relationship, Ramses never accepted Gus. One story had Gus in his underpants being chased down Orchard Lane by Ramses. He fled up the main road, for the whole village’s entertainment.

The three stood silent. Over them the blue sky was deepening into late afternoon.

“Apple?” Brandi asked after a while.

“You didn’t know that?” Bear asked.

“All us Vaynerchuck kids got middle names like that. Based on what was happening around the farm when we were born,” Gus explained. “Angus Apple, Doris Daisy, Peter Pumpkin, Shawn Shearing.”

“I had no idea,” said Brandi, “I like the sound of your parents.”

“Yeah, they were back-to-the-land kind of folks. More beatniks than anything else, really. They were both Surrealists, then they got into the folk music scene and moved up here.”

“My grandma told me about some of their performances,” said Bear. “They used to sing pagan carols outside the general store every Christmas. It was against consumerism. Really wild!”

“Sounded wild,” remarked Gus. “Less fun if you’re a kid and got dragged along to perform. That was embarrassing.”

“Your folks also did some pretty important things for the island,” Bear continued. “When those rumors about Leek Point got around. All the abuse? They were the only ones who took it seriously and protested. They never gave up on that one.”

“Indeed,” nodded Gus. “That was a big deal for them. But till the day he died my dad said there was unfinished business up there…”

“Hello? Hello. Can you hear me in the back?” an amplified voice boomed inside the hall, followed abruptly by sharp feedback, and then numerous yelps.

“Sorry, folks!” The voice lowered in volume. “Okay, better…”

Doug’s red station wagon chugged into view, decelerated from its already glacial pace, and carefully pulled up in front of the hall. He struggled a bit getting out of his car.

“Damn,” said Brandi under her breath, staring at the large, almost comic white bandages around Doug’s head and hand. Dark rings ran under his eyes.. “Hun…”

“You’re just in time,” Gus called out. The four friends joined the other stragglers cramming inside.

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