by Jake Bible
“That would be me, right Long Pork?” Cowboy asks, his sour breath hot against my ear. “Say it.”
“Yes, Cowboy, that would be you,” I say, regretting it instantly. The pain in my arm shoots into my shoulder and it feels like he’s ripping me apart.
“I’m sure I warned you about calling me that already,” Cowboy says.
“Did you? You probably did,” I reply, gasping. “Sorry, Mr. Jameson, sir.”
“Don’t lay it on too thick,” Cowboy says. “Mr. Jameson is just fine. No need for the sir part.”
“How nice of you,” I say as we start to walk backwards, away from the SUV.
“I have him right in front of me,” he calls out. Which he does. If Stuart or John still have a weapon and try to take a shot in the dark they’ll nail me first. “You all just stay put. What time did I say you could come looking for him?”
“Noon,” Stella replies, “tomorrow.”
“Exactly,” Cowboy says. “Not a minute sooner.”
“How are you gonna know?” I ask. “I’ve always wondered that. Why do villains tell people to wait for an hour or two? How will you know they don’t come looking at like 11:30 or 11:45?”
“Because maybe I’ll be waiting down the road,” Cowboy says so only I can hear. “Maybe I’ll snap your neck and get comfortable. Just wait until that gutsy wife of yours comes walking down along. Put some bullets in the heads of those soldiers and have my way with sexy Stella. How is that for an answer?”
“Not really liking that answer,” I say. “Can we forget I asked the question?”
“Maybe,” Cowboy says as we get further and further away. This guy is pretty good at walking backwards. I, on the other hand, am using every skill I have not to trip on my own feet.
“Maybe?” I ask. “Can’t do better than that?”
“I don’t know,” Cowboy says. “The more I think of it, the more I like that idea. Kill you, get some rest, wait and rape your wife. I’ll make your kids watch too.”
I start to struggle at that, but he pulls my arm up even harder and I feel it pop. Well, I feel more than it just pop as I scream. Yeah, he dislocated my fucking shoulder.
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, flipping me over his leg and down onto the ground. In one motion he shoves my arm back into the socket then yanks me up by it and we’re back where we started. Just with a fuck ton more pain. “I can do that to you all night long. Want to test me?”
“No,” I gasp. “No…that’s fine.”
“Then keep still, Long Pork. Make this easy for me and I make it easy for you. I’m not the fucking villain here, just a guy hired to do a job.”
“But your boss is long gone,” I say. “Why bother?”
“You think Mondello is my only boss?” Cowboy laughs. “You think this is just about him? Yes, I was hired by the guy, but there are bigger fish than him. I fuck this all up and I’m dead, Long Pork. I’m zed food. Mondello is a fucking bureaucrat, that’s it. He knows rules, procedures, and shit like that. He’s happy playing President. And I’d be happy playing Secret Service, but I’m not an idiot.”
“You sure?” Pain! “Sorry, kidding, kidding!”
“Don’t,” he says. “Mondello is a means to an ends, just like Foster was. I keep climbing the power ladder until I hit the top. That’s when I find my real boss. Whoever that is.”
“You don’t know?” I ask. “You’re talking about the Consortium, right? The power players living in Atlanta?”
“That’s them,” Cowboy says. “And no, I don’t know who the top dog in that pack is. They keep their cards close to their chests. As far as I know, he or she could be part of my crew. Wouldn’t that be a fucking hoot?”
“Yeah, I highly doubt that,” I say.
“Me too,” Cowboy says. “Just proving a point.”
“What point? You already said you don’t know. You don’t have to prove that. And even by saying what you said you aren’t proving it. There’s no way I can actually know if you are lying or not. You should really-”
Pain!
“Shut up,” he says.
I do. Quickly. And stay shut up for a long while until he stops walking.
“What? Why did we stop?” I ask.
“Shhh,” he warns. I shhhh.
We listen for a long time, but hear nothing.
“Good,” Cowboy says. “Looks like your wife kept the men in line. She always been a ball buster like that? Or did she come into it after Z-Day?”
“I wouldn’t call her a ball buster,” I say, “but, yes, she has always been like that.”
“Damn,” Cowboy laughs, “doesn’t take a big brain to figure out who wears the pants in your family.”
He turns us around and we get to walk in a normal forward fashion finally. I’m glad since walking backwards was just awkward, especially with my arm jammed up between my shoulder blades. After a few yards, Cowboy eases up and lets me go.
“Don’t think I can’t still rip that arm off,” he says, “because I can. You won’t get more than two steps before I make you scream like a little girl. Got it?”
“Got it,” I say. “I do. Seriously. All got and shit.”
“Man, there is something wrong with your mind,” Cowboy says. “You’re like those smart ass punks I used to kick the crap out of in high school. That happen to you, Long Pork? You get the crap kicked out of you a lot?”
“No, not really,” I say. “I had a good time in high school.”
“Right,” Cowboy chuckles. “Sure you did. I’ll bet you had a shitty time in high school and are just one of those losers that has invented some pretend life you’ve told your kids. Is that it? You tell your kids you were part of the popular crowd? Make them think their daddy wasn’t the total loser that he actually was?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask. “Where did this come from? Who cares what I was in high school?”
“You brought it up,” Cowboy says, giving me a little shove from behind.
“No, I didn’t!” I protest. “You brought up high school. You asked me if I was one of the smart asses that got his ass kicked by bitches like you.”
“Oh, right,” Cowboy says. “And then you lied to me.”
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Say what you want,” Cowboy says. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were a loser. Still are. Can’t even protect your family right.”
“Fuck you!” I yell and whirl on him. Then keep whirling as he pistol whips me across the face. Said face smashes into the pavement and my nose explodes in pain. Hot blood pours from it as I struggle to get up, but I’m pushed down by Cowboy’s foot in the middle of my back. And then the muzzle of his pistol is against the back of my head. Awesome.
“You figure out how stupid that was?” he asks.
“I’m getting the picture,” I say, blood coating the back of my throat. I spit a bunch out and nod. “Yeah, that was stupid.”
“You going to play nice?” Cowboy asks. “Because, frankly, I don’t have to keep you alive.”
“Then why are you?” I ask, slowly, cautiously, getting to my feet.
Cowboy shrugs. “You’re alive because I’m still working the angles of this scenario.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I won’t put a bullet in your head until I know for sure that I don’t need you,” Cowboy says. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Funny,” I say. “You know, I don’t mind going back and waiting with my family while you decide. Seriously, I don’t.”
“Now look who’s being funny,” Cowboy says, shoving me down the road. “Keep walking, Seinfeld.”
We walk for a few more minutes, making our way slowly down the Parkway. The road is more than a little creepy as tree branches sway in the slight breeze and dry leaves blow across the road. With no moonlight to see by, every shadow looks like a Z ready to grab us when we pass. Turns out they’re really just rhododendrons. But scary rhododendrons.
Maybe twent
y minutes go by and we come to the first tunnel.
“Flashlight?” I ask.
“No,” Cowboy says, “didn’t get a chance to grab one.”
“You don’t have one on you? That seems like bad planning.”
“Wasn’t completely geared out since we were at the FOB,” Cowboy says. “Just had my rifle and sidearm.”
“Well, live and learn, right?”
“If you live,” Cowboy chuckles.
“Ouch,” I say, “that’s harsh.”
“March it, Long Pork.”
I take a deep breath and step into the tunnel.
If I thought it was dark before, I was wrong. This is dark. Super duper, mother fucking dark. Outside the tunnel, I could at least make out shapes and see Cowboy next to me. But in here? Nothing. I wave my hand in front of my face and don’t see a thing. Crazy.
“Make any stupid moves and I’ll just start shooting,” Cowboy says. “And hitting the ground won’t make a difference. I’ll shoot the ground too.”
“Damn, you’re brutal,” I say. “What did the ground ever do to you?”
“Just keep walking,” Cowboy says. “As long as I hear your footfalls then you get to stay alive.”
“But only until you decide to kill me,” I reply.
“We’ve already been over this,” Cowboy responds. “I hate repeating myself.”
“Right. Sorry.”
I make my way to the side until I can run my hand on the wet rock of the mountain. Our footsteps echo around us, joining the sound of dripping water…and something else.
“Stop,” Cowboy orders. “Just hold up.”
I do as ordered since I have no plan on being randomly fired at. I can hear Cowboy breathing, the water drip, drip, dripping and that other sound. It’s like…I don’t know. It kinda sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
“What the fuck is that?” Cowboy whispers. “Long Pork? If it’s your buddies coming for a rescue, you’re dead.”
“Maybe it’s Zs,” I say.
“Doesn’t sound like shuffling feet,” Cowboy answers. “It sounds like…like…tires?”
“Tires?” I ask. “But wouldn’t there be an engine sound to go along with that?”
“There should be,” Cowboy says. “There really should-”
Then we are blind. Headlights illuminate the tunnel, only a couple feet from us. I’m not stupid, I know when I’m supposed to hit the deck. And I do just as the gunfire erupts. Bullets ricochet around the tunnel and I say a small prayer I don’t catch a stray.
“Fuck you!” Cowboy yells as he unloads his 9 at the vehicle, shooting out one of the headlights.
I take a peak and it looks like one of the SUVs, but how is that possible? Cowboy’s was toast and so was ours. The only SUV it could have been was maybe… Nah…
Cowboy starts running towards the SUV, taking the fight to whoever is inside. His pistol clicks empty, but that doesn’t stop him. I can see the driver door open, but Cowboy leaps at it, knocking it into whoever is trying to get out. A brief cry of pain tells me exactly who that is.
“Stay there, Long Pork,” Elsbeth shouts. “I’ll get you when I’m done.”
“Fuck you, girly,” Cowboy says, swinging at her head.
Elsbeth ducks and shoves him away from the SUV. She doesn’t waste any time and goes right for him, kicking the door closed with her foot. Why? Maybe it makes for fewer obstacles? Fuck if I know. I’m just the guy splayed out on the wet ground.
Cowboy lands a solid punch to her gut and I hear the breath leave her as she falls to a knee. She blocks a blow as he tries to bring his fist down on the back of her neck. Grabbing his arm, she twists as she comes up fast, spinning him around. I know that move! Elsbeth has his arm up behind his back and he grunts as she pushes harder and harder.
But he’s got a little more size than she does. Instead of fighting back he rushes forward towards the tunnel wall. Elsbeth tries to counter, but before she can, Cowboy has used his momentum to swing her around and slam her against the rock. He closes fast and lands a punch to her gut, her head, and her chest. She drops again and Cowboy is smiling, thinking he has her.
Until she nails him in the nuts.
The huge, private contractor, military mother fucker, squeaks. Yep. He squeaks. Both of his hands go to his crotch and this time he falls, coming down hard on both knees. He’s pretty much eye to eye with Elsbeth and I think it’s about done.
Except he head butts her, his forehead slamming into the bridge of her nose. She cries out as blood sprays everywhere; the crack of bone and cartilage echoes in the tunnel.
“How you like that, bitch?” Cowboy yells, head butting her again. “Nice, right?”
Elsbeth falls back against the tunnel wall. She shakes her head a couple times, but I can tell she’s pretty dazed by the slow way she brings her hands up to shield her face. She does get them up in time, I’ll give her that. Cowboy tries to finish her off with a punch to the face, but he hits forearms instead.
“Come on, bitch!” Cowboy yells. “You wanna fight? Let’s fight!”
He gets up, steadies himself, then pulls Elsbeth to her feet. He grabs her by the hair and slams her face down as he brings his knee up. She screams, he laughs. He tries it again, but then he screams, while she laughs. Well, she sort of laughs; hard to tell with her mouth full of leg.
Elsbeth spits the chunk of Cowboy’s leg and pants onto the ground. He hops back, screaming at her, his hand trying to slow the blood that is gushing (and I do mean gushing) from the wound. He gets a foot back then slips in his own blood and comes down hard in front of the SUV. Right next to him is his pistol and he grabs it.
Why? The thing is empty. Oh…
The tunnel is plunged back into darkness as Cowboy slams the butt of the pistol into the one working headlight. I try to slow my breathing so I can hear what is going on. I hear footsteps and someone sliding around. I’m guessing the footsteps are Elsbeth’s and the sliding is Cowboy. I can’t tell.
Then I hear them. Something hits flesh, a cry of pain, more impacts, more cries. I’m pretty sure the cries are coming from Cowboy, but I can’t say for sure. Punch, punch, cry; punch, punch, cry.
Smack! Smack!
“Please,” Cowboy croaks.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Okay…okay,” he begs. “You…win.”
“Not yet,” Elsbeth says.
I hear dragging sounds and Cowboy choking. Then the dome light inside the SUV comes on. Elsbeth has the driver’s door open and she wedges Cowboy’s head in there. I turn away as she slams the door closed. I keep my eyes averted as the door slams again and again.
Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam!
I can tell by the sounds that Cowboy’s head is mush on the third slam, but Elsbeth being Elsbeth gives it one extra just for good measure. Or fun. I don’t think she knows the difference.
“You alright, Long Pork?” Elsbeth asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say as I get to my feet. I look at the pulverized head of Cowboy and the brains dripping off the running board of the SUV. “I don’t think he’s coming back a Z.”
“No,” Elsbeth says, “he’s not.”
Her face is all blood and shadows and I reach for her. “Let me look,” I say.
She flinches, but lets me take her head and check out her face.
“It’s broken,” she states. “I’ve broken it before. It feels broken.”
She hocks up a gob of bloody phlegm and spits it on the pavement. I look at the SUV and shake my head.
“I didn’t know you could drive,” I say.
“Julio has been teaching me,” she says. “But I didn’t really drive. I just steered and used the braking pedal.”
“Just brake pedal,” I say. The look on her face makes me cringe. “Or braking pedal. Whatever works. All the same in the end.”
“I let the car take me here,” she says.
“You just coasted down the road so he wouldn’t hear you,” I say. “Brilliant.”
“What? No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s out of the gas.”
“Oh,” I say. “Well that works too.” Then it hits me. “Wait, where’s Mondello?”
She walks to the back and opens the tailgate, showing me a bound and gagged Mondello, blood trickling from several cuts on his face.
“He’s stupid,” she states. “Car runs out of gas and he orders me to stay in it while he gets out.” She laughs and a blood bubble pops from her nose. “I didn’t stay. Stupid.”
“How’d you get it turned around without gas?” I ask.
“I pushed,” she says. “Not that hard.”
“No, no, not at all.” Damn. “Did you pass the others?”
“Yes, they are on the way,” she says. “Stuart said not to slow down and keep going until I find you. He was right. I found you.” She nods at Cowboy’s corpse. “And killed him. Asshole.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I say.
We stand there, looking at each other for approximately forever.
“Listen,” I start, “I owe you an apology.”
“Yes,” she says.
“Right…so, I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?”
“Not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“No.”
“Okay, fine, I deserve the rough treatment,” I say. “I’m sorry I let you down. I didn’t want to betray you, honestly. It’s just, well, I was…I was…”
“Scared?” she asks, cocking her head.
“Yes,” I agree. “Scared. Scared I wouldn’t ever see my family again. Scared they would be killed once I did see them again. Watching Zs go after your family in a cage makes you do things you didn’t think you’d do.”
“I don’t know,” she says.
“Don’t know what?”
“Don’t know if it would make me do strange things,” she says. “Maybe.”
“Yeah, well it makes me do strange things,” I say. “But I came for you.”
Elsbeth looks around. “No. I came for you.”
“What I mean is we were chasing you,” I say. “That’s why we’re up here. To get you from Mondello. To save you.”
“Oh, I was fine,” Elsbeth says. “I just wanted to hear what he had to say.”
“What? What does that mean?” I ask.