Um. Yeah. Johnny doesn’t know if he’ll learn anymore Fortitude shit from Joe Barclay anymore. The motherfucker isn’t just a sadist, he’s fucking psychotic. Who the fuck drives off a bridge on purpose and talks about how cool it was? Who?
Okay, he’s the story. Johnny meets Joe at some dive bar down in Gangrel turf down south. A serious biker bar where some of the chicks had bigger biceps than Sharky, had more tattoos than any Brujah and were scarier than any Nosferatu. Seriously, a few of these biker chicks were more manly than most of the other bikers in there. They probably had bigger clits than most Toreador pricks. Damn.
So we’re there and Johnny is making small talk with Joe ‘cause it seems like we’re just waiting for someone or something to do. Then he checks his watch and says something about someone not coming, so we’ll do it another night. Johnny is thinking, fuck, a wasted night hanging out in a damn biker bar.
Now, for some reason, Joe picked Johnny up from the Ship in Santa Ana, so Joe was actually driving this piece of shit Ford F150 pickup truck. Johnny swears it only had an AM radio. Suddenly Joe loses control somehow and plows, passenger side first, into a fucking tree.
What the fuck? Joe, as usual, isn’t even scratched. But Johnny is picking twigs out of his fucking nose. It’s not really bothering Johnny, not after the beatings Johnny already took from Barclay, but yeah, Johnny had to fix a leg and the nose was broken. So we’ve gotta pry ourselves out of this heap of twisted metal and wood.
Johnny should have known that something was up when there was a tow truck parked just down the street. And that Joe had another car waiting for us. Should have fuckin’ known, but then again, Johnny was just confused as fuck at how Barclay had crashed the car in the first place.
Anyway, before we go, Joe asks Johnny how he feels. Then he says something about “tapping into the same place as last time.” Now Johnny is starting to understand that this wasn’t a fucking accident. “The pain exists outside of you. Stay focused.” Or something like that.
Not only is Johnny understanding that the accident was on purpose but that the lesson probably isn’t over. And that’s starting to make Johnny really nervous.
So we get into another truck. A nice big Tacoma. We get on the 241 freeway and head north back towards home. Joe isn’t talking much, but he’s pointing out shit on the road like trees or something, slipping in comments about focusing outside the pain, shit like that. We’re coming up north and Joe inserts a second key into the dashboard. The passenger airbag light changes to a nice bright red color, like blood. He turned it off.
Oh fuck.
We hit that spot around Rancho Santa Margarita where there’s a bridge over this huge fucking ravine. Yeah. You know what’s about to happen by now, right? Yeah. The goddamn psychopathic Barclay jerks the wheel of the truck and smashes through the guardrail and over the side we go, and suddenly everything is in slow motion just like in the fuckin’ movies.
And it just keeps going. And going. When the fuck is this goddamn thing ever going to hit the ground? And when it does, will there be anything left of Johnny? The damn thing keeps sailing and it’s now nosed over so now we’re upside down.
The whole time, I am desperately trying to focus, I am desperately trying to gather my energies and trying to push even the idea of pain outside my being. Not only will I not feel pain, but I won’t have pain, it just won’t be there.
And then WHAM!!!!! The truck fucking flattened. Johnny was flattened too. For a moment it seemed like Johnny’s head was squashed right down into this fuckin’ crotch. But it didn’t hurt. It was uncomfortable, it wasn’t exactly a screaming orgasm from twins giving Johnny a blowjob, but it didn’t really hurt. At least not pain as Johnny has always understood pain.
Didn’t stop Johnny’s spine from being compacted by about two feet and mangling both arms, not to mention knocking Johnny fucking silly. But once Johnny’s world stopped spinning and sent the Blood where it belonged to stretch that spine back out and to mend those arms, it was again a matter of tearing ourselves out of that mangled heap of metal.
And you know what? Joe was fucking giggling. No, he’d never admit it. But Johnny swears for just a moment or two, he was fucking giggling.
No surprise, but once we finally make the climb up the ravine, there’s a Caltrans truck already bolting a new guardrail in place.
You know what Joe said next? If Johnny was cool or wanted to do it again.
Again? Goddamn psychopath.
Johnny was thirsty. And drinks were on Barclay. That just might be the last time Johnny hangs out with Barclay for a very long time…
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