Memoirs Of An Antihero

by Drew Blank

  “We’ll find her,” Twisty was leaning in with a one arm hug as she soothingly whispered in my ear.

  “Well, Orphan,” Tom said from the next room, “looks like your buddy is pretty well patched up. I wouldn’t recommend putting any weight on it for a few days. For a pocket knife, that dude caused a shit load of tissue damage. Luckily, he didn’t find any major arteries or this would have been way out of my league.”

  “Thank you,” Phil said politely, still quiet from the ordeal.

  “You guys are welcome to hang out for a while. I cancelled all my appointments for the day, so I ain’t got shit to do and I doubt the cops’re gonna let you go home yet. Besides, the drugs I pumped into your buddy probably won’t wear off for another few hours,” Tom told us as he cleaned bloody towels from his workstation.

  “Thanks, man. We really appreciate it,” I said. “Maybe we’ll order a pizza and I can go pick up some beer for ya.” While I planned on slipping a thousand dollars to Tom for the day’s work, I knew beer would make everything better.

  “Mighty white o’ ya, Orphan,” he grunted as he made his way out of the studio. “I gotta take a dump.”

  “God that’s hot,” Twisty commented.

  Tom looked back over his shoulder and flashed Twisty a wink. “Wanna come make sure my balls don’t get in the way?”

  “Tom, you are always the charmer,” I said, thankful Twisty wasn’t one of those girls that took offense at everything. The reality was, I wasn’t even sure Twisty was capable of taking offense at anything. Tom’s deep laughter followed him as he disappeared into the hallway.

  “So, I heard mention of pizza?” Twisty said, completely shrugging off what Tom had just shared.

  “I could handle that. Just let me…” Before I could take it out to make a call, my phone began to vibrate. I pulled it from my pocket and checked the display. MOXIE. I immediately flipped the phone open

  “Baby! Where are you? Are you all right? Tell me where I can find you.” I tried to get as much information as I could upfront, just in case she was calling in secret and Reggie was about to catch her. The response was not what I had expected.

  You didn’t come to the parade I threw in your honor, Hero. I’m very disappointed. It was Carver’s hiss on the other end. He had obviously found Cowboy the Bear.

  “You son of a bitch, if you hurt one hair…” Before I could finish, Carver interrupted me.

  Now, now, Hero. Relax. Little whelp doesn’t even

  have one hair on her head for me to hurt. She’ll be fine as long as you do what I say. His nonchalant manner was chilling.

  “Where the fuck are you, you goddamn snake? I will tear your fucking head off. Do you fucking hear me?” I wasn’t the cool, wisecracking hero he wanted. I was rage incarnate and the second we met face to face, I was going to destroy him.

  Just come to Cross’ staircase to the sky. You’ll find us there. I look forward to seeing you again, Drew. The phone went silent.

  “Staircase to the sky? What the…?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Was that Carver?” Twisty was first to attack with the obvious question.

  “Yeah. He’s got Moxie’s phone. Wants me to meet him at the staircase to the sky? Does that mean anything to any of you?” I asked, frantic and confused.

  “I think so,” Jim broke in. “Remember that guy that shot himself at the Carrier building a few years back?”

  “Vaguely, yeah. Why?” I was in no mood for history briefings on all of Cross’ past wackos.

  “He left a four or five page suicide letter.” Jim explained. “Mostly poems and ramblings. Somewhere he refers to the Carrier building as his staircase to the sky. The name kinda stuck with all the hooligans that hang out there.”

  “So, the Carrier Steel building is where he’s at?” I verified.

  “That would be my best guess, yes,” Jim confirmed.

  The Carrier Steel building. Obviously one for theatrics, Carver felt the crumbling skeletal structure of a skyscraper that never came to be would be the perfect place for our meeting. I was going to make sure it was our last. Thankfully, Jim thought ahead when he rescued us in the Grand Marquis and brought the rest of my suit as well as his and Phil’s laptops.

  Stripping off the flannel and sweat pants, I readied myself in no time. It was the first time Tom had seen me in costume, so I allowed him to get a good laugh at my expense before racing out the door. Phil had pleaded with me to take guns, but I refused. My daughter was about to see a different side of me that evening and the last thing I wanted was her to think I was some gun wielding psychopath. I wanted her to be proud of me. I wanted to be her hero.

  With the sun going down, there was little concern of me being seen. I jumped into the brown beast of a vehicle and got on my way. Navigating the maze-like streets of Cross by moonlight was difficult, but doing it at a frenzied sixty miles an hour was damn near impossible. My path that night was navigated by instinct alone with blind rage controlling the pedals.

  The grill from the Grand Marquis ravaged the rotted plywood barrier fence in front of the abandoned construction site. Blueboy’s location was still a mystery to me but at least he would know I was there. I was in no mood to be sneaky. The headlights from the car illuminated a good portion of the ground floor, revealing four of Carver’s henchmen guarding the tower. Although these watchmen were dressed just like the street thugs I fought off earlier in the day, including the painted faces, they were much more heavily armed.

  The weapons did not concern me since I was certain Carver wanted me alive. However, I knew four heavily armed, high-priced security guards would require time to take down and time was not something I felt I had to spare. As unsporting as it was, the car was the most effective weapon I had at my disposal. The first thug had already been caught off guard by my crash entrance, so clipping him on the way in was not difficult. His body bounced off the front leaving barely a scuff on the steel hood. Yanking the wheel to my right, all four tires spun in the dirt while the tail whipped wildly out of control. It did not take long for the other members of Blueboy’s militia to realize I had no plans of exiting my tank until I absolutely had to. The three scattered in different directions, making it difficult for me to keep track. It was times like that where Phil’s cameras would have come in handy.

  One of the soldiers was larger than the others, in both height and weight. From his slow jog, it was obvious he was not intending to do any running that evening and the guns were not helping his sluggish pace. The Marquis’ rusted bumper was upon him in no time at all. Knocking his knees forward, the goon collapsed under the vehicle, falling completely from my sight. I stepped on the gas. Before he could be visible in my rear view mirror, I threw the shifter in reverse and again accelerated. The vehicle lumbered over the thug’s rotund physique, his screams muffled by the rumbling of the engine.

  Unrelenting on the accelerator, I continued screeching through the construction site in reverse hoping to get lucky and turn another unfortunate painted army man into a black and blue speed bump. Over my shoulder I saw a shadowy silhouette running away from the base of the tower. Swinging the steering wheel to the left, the car careened in the direction of its next victim. Blinding flashes came forth from my target, followed immediately by glass from the back window showering the backseat. Jim’s words of wisdom came to mind. “Just remember. Your face isn’t bulletproof.” I heeded his warning as I ducked behind the front bench.

  Blindly steering my metal juggernaut in the direction of the shooter, I continued to hear bullets pummel the side of the car. Realizing I was getting nowhere and confident I would not just happen to run over my other two assailants, I slammed on the brakes. Throwing the wheel to the right, the vehicle spun violently out of control, causing a thick storm of dry dirt to blanket the entire area closed off by plywood planks. The dust clouds served as excellent cover for me to throw open the door and roll free from the car.

  Bullets continued to pelt the Grand Marquis.
The

  gunmen were obviously just aiming at the only thing visible through the thick screen of dirt and dust, the headlights. No one had noticed my exit, which served me well in tracing the source of the gunfire.

  One of the soldiers had positioned himself atop an overturned outhouse in the corner of the yard. Crawling in his direction, my advance went completely unnoticed. The goggles allowed me to navigate easily through the dust, while my adversary had his yellow painted eyelids practically closed to keep out debris.

  Kneeling next to the toppled plastic toilet, I pulled a length of chain from the dispenser Jim had equipped me with and clasped it in both hands. Still under the cover of dark and dust, I crept onto the outhouse behind the shooter. Any sounds I made were lost beneath the clapping of bullets he was unleashing into the Marquis. Swift and tight, I pulled the chain around the yellow man’s throat. The shooting stopped immediately, but he held on to his weapons. As I squeezed tighter, he began to gasp for breath, kicking his foot haphazardly behind him, hoping to land a boot on anything. I didn’t wisecrack. I didn’t quip. I squeezed until his body went limp and I was holding him up by the neck. Before his lifeless body could release the guns, I dropped the chain and slid my arms under his getting my own grip on the guns. As if wearing him like a full body shield, I strafed the yard with bullets, hoping to find his ground floor accomplice. It only took a moment to bring him out into the open.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” The last soldier stepped into the beams from the headlights screaming and waving his arms. “Watch where the fuck you’re shooting! Dude’s in the car and I’m pretty fucking sure he’s toast! Blueboy’s gonna be pissed!” He hollered across the site to the partner he was unaware had just been strangled.

  “I don’t think he’s in the car!” I yelled in an exaggerated deep voice.

  “Then where the fuck did he…” I allowed him no time to finish. With my fingers still over the shooter’s fingers I depressed the triggers and released a shower of lead toward the blue-faced idiot that should have known better than to come out into the open. Bullets kept pushing him upward long after he had died. Not until all clips were expelled did I pull my fingers away from the triggers and let the body I had been hiding behind fall to the ground.

  “Now I gotta find Blueboy.” It was the first words I had spoken to my friends back at Tom’s studio since I left.

  Just be careful, Twisty pleaded while at the helm.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “How’s Philsie doin’?”

  A little high, but he’s all right. Now go find Moxie, dammit. Twisty pushed me. And Drew?

  “Yeah, babe?” I asked as I began to approach the tower’s base.

  Kick Junior in the balls for me.

  “You got it. Over.” I ended communication for the time being, so I could focus on finding my little girl.

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  I investigated the site as the dust settled, looking for a place Carver could be hiding. “It’s just you and me now, Benji!” I yelled into the night sky. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” There was silence.

  At the south end of the building, I found a gigantic straight ladder leaning up against the structure that stopped on the fourth floor. It was then that it occurred to me there was no way up the tower except for the ladder. You could see where elevators were going to be put in and stairwells missing stairs were located in the back corners. That ladder was my only way up, so I climbed.

  As I came to the second floor, I cautiously poked my head over the ledge trying to survey the level. The streetlights barely penetrated the darkness before me, so I whispered to my wranglers for help. “Night vision, please.” Instantly, the blackness was replaced by green and white. There were no walls for Carver to hide behind, so it was easy to see if he was occupying that floor or not. The rotted wooden floor was littered with beer cans and cigarette butts left there by bored teens using the Carrier building as their own personal party house. There were even used condoms lying about, which initially disgusted me, but upon further thought I realized the tower would actually be a great place to have sex. I guess anything beat my little twin sized bed over the kitchen of an Italian joint. Confident the second floor was empty, I continued to climb.

  The third floor returned the same result as the second, with the exception of an empty keg tipped over in the back corner and the presence of discarded plastic cups. It made me admire the will and determination of the kids of Cross that found a way to get a full keg up three stories with no stairs or elevator. Keg, condoms, beer cans, cigarette butts, plastic cups, pizza boxes and even a pair of shoes. No Carver, though. I continued my advance.

  With the knowledge that Blueboy did not want me dead, I felt safe ascending the final rungs pulling myself to the top of the ladder. I couldn’t imagine he would go through all the trouble of kidnapping my daughter just to blow my head off without warning. He didn’t seem that unsporting. I, on the other hand, was going to kill him first chance I got. Without surveying the level first, I jumped from the ladder to the rotted wooden planks that made up the fourth floor. Standing roughly ten yards before me, illuminated by moonlight, was Benji Carver. The Blueboy.

  “Glad you could join us, Hero.” He greeted me in his vicious whisper. He was standing in the middle of the floor with Reggie by his left side. Unlike Reggie had predicted, they were not standing as partners. Instead, Carver held her by her nappy blond hair in his left hand, a gun pointed to her chin with his right. Moxie was balled up a few paces behind the two, restricted somehow. At the sound of Carver’s voice she lifted her head to reveal her bright hazel eyes glinting in the dim light. Her mouth was forced closed with thick white tape.

  “Let them go, Carver. I’m not playing your game,” I said with as much force as I could muster.

  “I disagree, Hero. By you even being here you are playing my game. So, why not enjoy yourself?” His demeanor was no different than any other time I had seen him.

  “What makes you think I even care about her anyway?” I yelled, motioning my head to Reggie. “She turned me in! Pull the trigger!” I had so many words I wanted to use to describe Reggie at that point but I couldn’t bring myself to swear in front of Moxie. I was just hoping she was smart enough to realize I was trying to call Carver’s bluff.

  “Oh, I didn’t think you would care about her, Hero,” he calmly responded, loosening the grip on Reggie’s hair and twirling a lock in his gloved finger, “but I figure your little angel here may have an adverse reaction to seeing her mommy’s brains get blown out of her head.” Moxie’s eyes went wide after hearing Carver’s words. I noticed her rustling on the ground, battling with the binds of tape wrapped around her wrists and ankles. Carver paid her fidgeting no mind.

  “She’ll get over it. With the money I took from you I can afford the best therapy out there,” I said coolly.

  “That sick beast obviously needs more than therapy.” He rolled his eyes as he spoke. “I am honestly shocked she made it up the ladder without shuffling off this mortal coil.” He flipped the strands of hair he had been playing with on Reggie’s head and pushed the gun into her cheek, distorting her face around the shape of the muzzle. Moxie was behind the two, still wrestling with her bandages. Her exhausted body looked like a rag doll flipping around within the confines of the tape. I was not sure what she was trying to accomplish, but the last thing I wanted to do was draw Carver’s attention away from Reggie and me.

  “I’m beginning to think maybe you aren’t really hero material after all,” Carver told me in his same hushed tone. “Your daughter’s own mother wants you dead. What could you have possibly done to deserve that? I bet she is rethinking her decision right now though, wouldn’t you say?” He twisted the gun in half circles, still smashing Reggie’s fleshy cheek.

  “I’ve told you from the beginning, Benji. I’m not your guy.” I took a step forward and saw Carver tense up. The muzzle of the gun pushed even further into Reggie’s face as Carver began to eye me more intentl
y. “If you are really just looking for excitement, why not go skydiving, or maybe join a bowling league?” I took another step, my eyes locked on Moxie as she continued to struggle with the tape.

  “Always a joke to you, isn’t it?” He hissed smoothly. “Well I assure you, this is not funny and I am deadly serious.”

  “Oh, I know you are Benji. I know you are,” I said, trying to keep my cool.

  “I have already asked you once.” His jaw was growing tight. “Call me Blueboy!” He raised his voice, but never changed his inflection. It was chilling. Carver’s grip on Reggie’s hair tightened as he grew more agitated. Reggie was trying not to squirm, but you could see the true terror in her eyes. Part of me would have loved to see Carver pull the trigger, but the last thing I needed was to have her martyred right before Moxie’s eyes.

  “I have such a hard time calling you Blueboy, though. I mean, c’mon. What are you? In your thirties? You’re not really a boy now are you?” At that point I was just trying to keep him distracted as Moxie rose to her feet, the tape that had been constricting her ankles ripped apart. While I had no idea what she was planning, I hoped it involved sneaking away. Unfortunately, I knew my daughter too well to believe that would be the case.

  “Do you really think childish attacks on my age will hurt my feelings, Hero? I guess I give you too much credit.” He shook his head in an exaggerated manner, still shoving the gun into Reggie’s cheek. “Enough of this. Say goodbye to your whore mommy, little one.” He glanced over his shoulder, only to discover Moxie was not where he had left her. Instead, she was sprinting directly for his legs, using the weight of her body to collapse into his knees.

  “What the…?” Carver dropped the Blueboy character for a moment as Moxie’s attack caught him completely off guard. As much as I had hoped Moxie would just run and hide, distracting Carver for two seconds was all I needed. Leaping forward, I grabbed the gun in his hand and tore it from his fingers. Moxie did not have time to move out from under Carver’s legs, so my assault forced him back, toppling over her.