Coming for You

by J. A. Huss

  “That’s bullshit. The fucking Admiral sent me to the beach to watch her.”

  “He sent you to the beach so you’d bump into your assassin. But I paid that guy a visit before you arrived.”

  “More bullshit! I told you on the phone before I ever went to the beach that I failed my psych exam and you practically hung up on me.”

  “No, I said I didn’t have time for your whining. And I didn’t. I’ve got my own side jobs going, you know that. But the next day I took a trip down to SoCal and took care of your business.”

  “Was it One?” I ask

  “Is One dead?” Merc quips back. I just give him a snide look. “Obviously it was not One.” He waits to see if I’ll take another guess but I don’t. “It was Eight.”

  “So all those assassinate-the-assassin jobs I did over the past two years?”

  He shrugs. “Setups, I guess. I really have no idea, Tet. They wanted them to appear dead, but not be dead. You tell me. You know these Company people. I don’t. I have no clue how they think other than they want to get rid of me and I’m not gonna go easy.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Regime change, my friend,” Merc says. “Someone else wants to take over. Think about it. Harper poisons all those higher-ups when she makes her escape. You pick off your brother—for real,” he adds. “Then you find Harper and trail her like a good dog. One barges in and steals her file in the last second. Why?”

  “They don’t trust me.”

  Merc laughs. “Would you trust you?”

  “Whatever.”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t trust you for shit.” His smile says otherwise. “But I don’t think that’s the reason. I don’t think they know about this file we have.” He looks over to Sasha. “What do you think?”

  She looks stunned that he wants her opinion. And why not ask her? She seems to be the one with all the answers, whether she wants to have them or not. Her expression becomes sad. Her eyes droop. “They know. They killed my dad for it.”

  “So why two files?” I look at Merc for this.

  “From what I can tell, there’s some kind of hack going on in the code. They need both files to access the money. And this makes sense. Because Ford and I tried like motherfuckers to steal money out of those accounts. I mean, shit. You dangle numbers in front of a hacker and that’s just what we do. But fuck if we could figure it out.”

  “Nick would know.”

  Merc and I both look at Sasha at the same time.

  “Nick will know what to do with it.”

  “Sasha,” I say softly. “Look, you can’t trust that guy. OK? You can’t trust him. He put Harper in danger. He put you in danger. He’s gotta be working for the Admiral.”

  Chapter Six

  Sasha

  They shut up about Nick after that, so I take that as my cue to leave so they can share their secrets.

  I understand what they’re saying. Nick is part of this. Nick is setting us all up. Nick is not on our side. And I don’t have the energy to defend him, because to be honest, I don’t know him all that well. But they don’t know him all that well either. Nick has been working other parts of the world his whole life. He’s only in North America because he took off last year on his birthday. I don’t think he’s bad. I don’t have any proof, I just don’t think he is.

  So I go out into the mall area and look around. It’s near closing and there’s hardly anyone around. I walk through my dad’s corner booth—he has the largest one in the mall, it takes up the space of a dozen regular-sized booths—and my eyes rest on the other booth we run.

  Mine.

  He sold illegal guns to Company men and legal gear to the general public. But I sold girly stuff. Books. Jewelry. Knick-knacks. Dolls. I used to love dolls as much as I loved dinosaurs.

  My fingers trace the glass-top cabinet as I walk into the little entrance of my booth and a layer of dust collects as I push it along. I used to man this booth myself and kept most of the stuff inside the cabinets. But I haven’t been here since—

  “Sasha?”

  I turn towards the voice and put on one of my many fake expressions I’ve mastered over the past seven months. “Hi, Mrs. Sheldon. Long time no see.” My plastic smile never wavers. I meet her tired old blue eyes as a girl who accepts that her life was torn apart and will never be the same.

  “Oh, honey. I’m so happy to see you again. After the accident I never got a chance to say goodbye. And then the fire up at the ranch.” She pulls me into one of those old-lady hugs where they squeeze you into their bosoms and starts to pet my hair.

  She smells like rose water. Not a scent I care for, but it’s very popular with the old ladies in this mall. I let her hug me because she doesn’t know better. She doesn’t know I’m a killer now. She doesn’t know what I’m gonna do in the days ahead.

  “How have you been, sweetie?”

  I’m grateful for the opportunity to pull away and get the smell of her old satin coat lapels out of my nose. “I’m great. I live with my uncle now.”

  “Oh, he’s such a blessing, taking over the store like that—”

  “No, a different uncle,” I interrupt her and force myself not to laugh. I have so many damn ‘uncles’ people just stopped asking. Now that Mrs. Sheldon has been reminded of that fact, she changes the subject.

  “Where are you going to school now, dear? Still homeschool?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” When people ask about homeschool you gotta be extra special polite or else they think you’re a serial killer in training. I almost snicker at that one. I should really stop calling myself a homeschooler. I soften the blow with a lie. “I’m going to private school this fall though, so I’ll get the proper amount of government-mandated brainwashing before the cynicism sets in.”

  She smiles but her eyebrows are all slanted like Eric Cartman’s when he’s mad. I prepare myself for the next question, which would probably require me to give her an answer worthy of calling social services, but I’m ready for her to move on and leave me alone. So I say nothing. Just let the silence hang between us.

  “Well,” she says, finally taking the hint, “it was wonderful to see you again. You’re so grown up now. You look like a proper young lady.”

  “Thank you,” I say sweetly. And then I plaster that expression on my face and wait for her to leave.

  She smiles for a few more seconds, then nods. “OK. I must run. Bye, dear.”

  “Byeeeee,” I call out after her. She never looks back.

  I walk over to Mrs. Sheldon’s booth. She sells vintage clothing so she has a full-length mirror set up. I stand in front of it and take myself in. Harper is the only girl I know. We might not be friends, exactly. But I’m starting to think of her that way. So I compare myself to her.

  I’m tall. I’ve definitely grown a couple inches this year. I’m not as tall as Harper, but I’ve only got an inch to go, I bet.

  Blonde hair. It’s longer now than it’s ever been. James made me comb it in the truck, so it’s almost tidy. Harper’s hair is longer than mine. And more silky.

  Blue eyes. They are not the striking kind of blue that some people have. Harper has brown eyes. They are light and mine are dark. A little bit muddy if you don’t see them straight on.

  Long legs. I have always had long legs. That’s one thing I have over Harper, I think. She’s got athletic legs. Like she works out. I don’t work out.

  Small breasts. These are new and I turn a little to get a better look at them, and then sigh. There’s not much to see there. I should start wearing a bra though. I wonder if James will take me bra shopping?

  I cackle to myself as I picture that. He’s so easy to fuck with. How can a guy who’s killed hundreds of people be so damn easy to fuck with?

  I take one last look at myself and vow to buy some clothes that don’t come from the Burlington ALCO if I live through this stupid plan.

  And then I sigh and look back at my dad’s booth. It feels like he could just come walking right out
of the back room. That instead of Merc running this place for the last several months, it would be him.

  “It’s not, Sasha. So just get used to it. The only thing that matters now is revenge.”

  I can’t believe I said that out loud.

  I walk into the booth and start looking for clothes. I rummage around the vintage section until I find a pair of green army fatigues in a small enough size, and then I undress and pull them on real fast.

  I find a white t-shirt and some old boots and put those on too.

  And now… I feel like the real Sasha. It should make me smile, but instead it makes me nostalgic for the life I used to have. It might not have been anything special to people on the outside, but to me it definitely was.

  I don’t care about hunting or fishing. I could take or leave camping and survival training. But the thing is, I did all that stuff with my dad. He made all that stuff special.

  And now that he’s gone… well…I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to ever set foot in the forest again. I don’t want to shoot guns or bows. I don’t want to camp or survive.

  I just want to get even and then I want them all to leave me alone.

  I turn my back on the store and walk back to my own booth. On the far table there’s shards of wrapping paper and ribbon from the last day I was here. Christmas Eve. The day Merc came to buy guns and Ford came to buy presents. I allow a miniscule smile for Ford and then a small chuckle startles me as strong hands clasp over my eyes.

  I react with an elbow to my attacker’s ribs.

  “Ow,” he bellows. “I give! I give!”

  His hands come down from my eyes and I whirl around with surprise and excitement. “Nick!”

  He holds me by the shoulders and then pulls me in tight for a hug. “God, I was fucking worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” I say into his shirt as he holds me close. “Really,” I say, pushing him back. I like Nick. And I think he likes me too, but not the way I like him. The fact that he’s touching me makes me jittery in a way that freaks me out.

  “Sasha.” He holds my face in his hands and I have a moment of panic that he will kiss me and then that changes to regret when he doesn’t. “You look good, kid. A lot better than I imagined all these months.”

  I duck under his arm and scoot out of his grasp, making him turn. “You look good too. Far too good for a guy who’s been on the run for a year.”

  He smirks at me and for a moment I think he’s flirting. But then he pats his front pocket and pulls out a handful of suckers. Those little tiny ones they give away free in the old-lady booths here in the mall.

  “You have got to be kidding me. You brought me candy? What am I, six?”

  “Look,” he says, fanning them out a little. “They’re all butterscotch. Your favorite.”

  Aww. I might melt a little. He knows my favorite flavor. I take them, but he grabs one for himself and then bites off the wrapper and spits it out on the floor.

  I just stare at his lips as he puts the sucker in his mouth and starts talking about how he stopped off at a truck stop on his way into town and picked through the canister until he found… oh, fuck. I have no idea what he’s saying. I’m still looking at his mouth.

  He’s looking at me expectantly. “What?” I ask.

  He pops that sucker out of his mouth and holds it out for me. “Here, I don’t want it.”

  “Then why did you take it?” I ask, laughing. I take the sucker, not really sure what I’ll do with it.

  And then he leans into my space and slides his hands up into my hair. “I just wanted to lick it before you did.”

  A shotgun cocks off to the side of us and we both turn our heads slowly.

  “You’re gonna take your hands off my Smurf and back the fuck away.”

  Nick laughs but James does not look like he’s joking. In fact, James looks like Tet right now. “Smurf?” Nick laughs again, only louder this time. “First of all, Six, if this Smurf belongs to anyone, it’s me.” He looks over at me. “Right, Sash?”

  God, I’m so bad at choosing sides. So I hesitate. But that’s OK, because James steps forward into Nick’s space and looks down at him. James is an inch or so taller, so he can do that. “She’s thirteen years old, Tate. If you touch her a minute before she’s eighteen, I’ll cut your fucking balls off.”

  Nick smacks the barrel of the shotgun away and huffs. “Don’t be stupid. She’s a kid.” And then, as if that wasn’t a kill shot through my heart, he says, “Which reminds me, I got a girl you might be interested in.”

  I stop listening. I just toss that butterscotch sucker into the trash and walk off. Merc stretches out an arm to clothesline me before I can pass him a few paces down, but I duck. He grabs again and gets a hold of my shirt. “Stay here, Sasha. You’re not allowed to be alone anymore.”

  “What girl?” James asks.

  Nick looks over at me and winks. I’m not sure what that means but James takes it as a signal that Nick and I are sharing secrets. But before I can deny it, Nick continues talking. “I’d love to tell you about it, but first, where the fuck is my sister?” He looks around, like she’s gonna be here, hiding from him instead of squealing his name at first sight.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen James speechless.

  “Where the fuck is my sister?”

  “I had to take her back to the yacht.”

  Nick doesn’t even have words for that. He’s stunned silent.

  “One, man. I fucking…” James searches for words. But how to explain this clusterfuck? “He showed back up, drugged Harper. Gave her way too much…”

  We stare at James in silence.

  Then Nick attacks. It’s a stupid move because James ducks, grabs his legs, and then body-slams him on the carpet in front of my booth. “Take easy, asshole. She’s fine. I left her with the Admiral while I came looking for you.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nick growls and flips James over. They both spring to their feet and circle each other. “Are you stupid?” he screams at James. “Do you have any idea what you just fucking did?”

  No one answers and he doesn’t tell us. He just turns and walks to the back room of my dad’s booth.

  Chapter Seven

  Sasha

  Merc’s cabin has a strange bookshelf filled with vintage science fiction, hippy acid-tripping pop culture from the Seventies, and American classics. I have a sudden regret for leaving my Little House book back at the mall. It’s a childish book. One more suited for ten-year-olds instead of me. But it has an innocence and simplicity about it that my life could use a little more of.

  I pick a sci-fi novel off the shelf as a new song comes on my earbuds. Merc’s idea. To shelter me from the manly conversation going on across the room. I take a quick glance over my shoulder and catch Nick in mid-swing. His fist crashes against Tet’s jaw and then the whole thing starts all over again.

  He’s not taking this well. That’s what Merc said when he gave me the iPod and earbuds. Better stay out of it, kid. And then he walked off.

  Nick not taking this well is the understatement of the year. The fights have been numerous and loud. Short, but what they lack in length, they make up for in intensity. We still don’t know why Nick is so pissed. At least, I never heard that explanation since we got here to this cabin just outside of town. Maybe Nick told Merc when they drove together? I rode with James and James didn’t say shit on that drive.

  Merc likes Taking Back Sunday and I like this song, so I hum along as I read the back cover of the sci-fi novel.

  A thousand years after the apocalypse came to Earth and humans built a dome…

  Yeah. No, thank you.

  I put it back and sigh. The crashing of furniture makes me glance over my shoulder a second time, and now Merc is prying Nick and Tet apart.

  Men. They are so emotional, it drives me crazy.

  The next book is called The Abortion.

  That one makes me laugh and then I have like an out-of-bo
dy vision of myself standing in this room looking through Merc’s bookshelf, laughing at a book called The Abortion, while Tet and Nick try to kill each other.

  There is no hope for this girl at all. Like zero chance of hope. I mean, it’s just over. I put that book back and walk down the hallway to the bathroom. This cabin is weird. It’s got three bedrooms and two bathrooms, but one bathroom is the laundry room too. And it has a door that leads out back.

  Only a man would have a bathroom with a back door, but right now I’m glad it’s here because I walk right out and into the late-afternoon sunshine. There’s a picnic table down a rolling slope that leads into some woods, so I walk down and cop a squat on the table so I can prop my feet up on the seat and try and makes some sense of things.

  One. That was certainly a surprise when he showed up in Huntington Beach. I’m not sure what Tet has in mind for him, and I’m not sure I even want to know. But whatever he does, I don’t think I care too much.

  I’m on James’ side no matter what. I just can’t see hitching my wagon to anyone else right now. He’s the best at what he does. And we need the best. I’m sure Merc is a good killer too. And Nick. He’s not dead yet, so he has to have a certain skill level.

  But Tet. Now that man is a killer.

  A shadow forms in front of me and I look up from my introspection to see Nick walking down the hill. His mouth is moving so I know he’s talking, but I can’t hear anything because Nothing At All is blaring in my ears.

  “What?” I say, removing my buds. I really like this song.

  “Fucking James is out of his mind.” He takes a seat next to me on the table.

  “That’s not James, Nick. That’s Tet. And yeah. I agree.”

  “Why the fuck did he do it? Were you there?”

  Shit.

  I nod. “I was there. One drugged her and the Admiral wanted me dead. James had to produce a dead me and a live Harper. It was as simple as that.”

  He just stares at me like I’m a freak. “You’re OK with this? That he gave my sister back?”

  I hate his accusatory tone. And then his words from earlier pop into my mind. He has a girl. I’m just a kid. “I’m not OK with it, Nick. I just don’t see much choice. We needed to buy time.”