by William Oday
So cavalier. So light-hearted about murder.
Bob was no saint. Not by a long shot. A long trail of coke and hookers could testify to that. But something inside him had changed since surviving his episode.
Life was worth something.
What or how much, he didn’t know yet.
But it was no longer just a meaningless series of increasingly bizarre and extravagant distractions designed to dull the mind from dwelling on the futility of it all.
Bob turned away before a blurted reply ended up with him joining the guy who’d coveted that Trans Am.
“What are you waiting for?”
A coil of rope landed on the pavement between Bob and Rome.
31
It took Rome several throws to get the coiled end of the rope over the bar extending out over the street. He finally did and the thrown end unravelled down to the street.
Bob swallowed hard.
A boot to his backside sent him sprawling forward for balance.
“I said hurry it up!” the guard said.
Bob heard Rome’s whispered opinion of the man’s mother and was relieved to discover the man hadn’t. He didn’t seem like the type that would take kindly to the reference of his mother’s similarity to the canine world.
Rome stared at the rope in his hands and then at the pale blue corpse at their feet. His lips twisted in horror. He shoved the rope into Bob’s chest. “I’m not doing it.”
Bob accepted the unwanted gift. “I guess that leaves me.”
Anger flashed through Rome’s face. “You’re the reason I’m here at all! So, yeah, you’re gonna do it.”
Bob knelt down beside the hideous thing that only last night was a living, breathing human being. He tried to ignore the congealed gore across the thing’s gaping neck wound.
How was he supposed to get a loop around without touching it?
For that matter, what was he supposed to do if he somehow succeeded?
He had no idea how to tie a hangman’s noose.
It was a loop at the end and there were a bunch of coils above that. Everybody knew what one generally looked like. But knowing that was a long way from knowing how to transform a length of rope into one.
Something clicked behind him. He was about to turn to find out what.
“That’s the safety on this rifle,” the guard said. “If I have to ask you to get moving again, I’m going to put a bullet in your foot, old man.”
Bob reached the hand with end of the rope under the dead man’s neck. There wasn’t enough space in the hollow, so he had to shove it a few times to get through.
The last shove made it while also twisting the corpse’s head to the side and tearing open the wound. The parted flesh burped and a cloud of rank stink escaped.
Bob gagged and spun away. His middle pinched tight as it decided whether to hurl his stomach up out of his mouth.
It decided to stay.
For now.
Bob held his breath and got back to it. He reached across and retrieved the end of the rope. He ignored the substance clinging to it and started to tie a knot.
The only one he knew.
The one he tied the shoelaces of his running shoes with. Well, walking shoes for more than a few years now. Okay, whatever. He hadn’t laced them up in forever.
In the final years of their marriage, his ex had taken to ceaselessly badgering him about getting more exercise. She’d leave them by his bedside, by the front door, by the toilet.
To improve his libido, she’d say.
Wasn’t she worth the effort?
Didn’t she deserve to be wanted?
And more, to be satisfied?
Apparently, she did. He just didn’t know it was going to be his ex best friend that filled the role.
Bob waited for the burning resentment to ignite in his chest, just like it did every time he remembered that faithless harpy.
But nothing came.
Not even the flicker of a flame.
He didn’t know how to take that.
Was it a sign that he was finally getting over her betrayal?
Or was it a sign that his life was so wretched that he didn’t care about anything anymore?
He looped the end of the rope through and around and then pulled the end to tighten the knot.
“Really?”
Bob looked up at Rome standing next to him. “What?”
“You’re wanna try to hang this body using a square knot? A square knot you didn’t even tie the right way?”
The right way?
“What do you mean the right way?”
Rome rolled his eyes. “Everybody does it the wrong way. You’re actually supposed to do the top loop opposite of what everybody does.”
“You mean I’ve been tying my shoes the wrong way for over fifty years?”
Rome crossed his fleshy arms over his barrel chest and larger barrel belly. “Yeah. And that’s never gonna work. Even a regular square knot isn’t right for this job.” He shook his head like he was talking to the village idiot.
CRACK.
Bob’s flinched as the sound of the rifle firing split the air.
“Hang the stupid dead guy already!” The guard yelled with his weapon pointed up into the air.
“Move over,” Rome said as he knelt down and yanked the rope out of Bob’s hands. He untied it and fashioned a hangman’s noose. He finished it with practiced ease.
Bob’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the boy.
Rome caught his gaze. “What? I go all out for Halloween decorations. It’s my favorite holiday.”
Bob lifted the corpse’s head while Rome slipped the loop down into place.
He tightened the loop until it closed under the man’s chin. “That should do it.”
They stood and each took hold of the other end of the rope.
Bob pulled and the rope went taut.
Another pull and the head jerked up and fell back down with a revolting thump. “I could use some help here.”
“Uh, yeah,” Rome said and then added his superior strength.
In another minute, they had the ghastly thing lifted high and swinging back and forth like a metronome that measured out the rhythm of man’s depravity.
Aside from being repulsive, the corpse was heavy. Even with Rome doing most of the work, Bob’s heart hammered in his chest. His grip wouldn’t last much longer.
“Tie it off at the base over there,” the guard said.
“You’re a regular boy scout,” Bob replied before he could stop himself.
They marched over while the pounding in Bob’s ears rose to thundering levels. He was too old for this. His heart was going to explode.
An idea struck him.
Almost made him lose his grip.
Yes.
It could work.
Maybe, anyway.
What did he have to lose?
All that awaited him was whatever torture Charlie Bog dreamed up next. And sooner or later, even that would end in death.
He whispered. “Be ready.”
Rome cast him a confused look.
Bob screamed and let go of the rope. He fell to the pavement clutching his chest.
Without Bob’s help, the weight on the other end of the rope dragged Rome backward a few steps. He glanced down at Bob and then over at the guard. His eyes flashed understanding. “Help me!” he screamed at the guard.
The guard hesitated but then must’ve decided he wanted to get this over with because he flipped his rifle around to his backside and ran over. He reached for a hold on the rope.
Rome launched into action, faster than seemed feasible for someone of his bulk. He threw a loop of line over the guard’s head and pulled tight after it landed on his shoulders.
He jerked backward and the loop cinched tight. He let go and the heavier weight of the corpse on the other end pulled the guard up into the air.
The guard grunted and kicked wildly at the air as he rose. He stopped when the corpse’s feet
met the ground.
The guard reached down for the knife tucked into his boot, but missed.
“Come on!” Bob said as he got to his feet.
Rome nodded and the two took off like their lives depended on it.
Because, in fact, they did.
32
MARCO jerked awake and opened his eyes. Or thought he opened his eyes.
There was only darkness.
He’d fallen asleep out on the ridge a few miles from home. It was a new moon and a thick layer of clouds had blanketed the sky, but it was never this dark.
Never a total absence of light.
He started to panic, wondering why and when he’d gone blind. For a long minute, a terrified scream tried to claw its way up his throat.
A whisper echoed out of the darkness.
“You okay?”
He recognized the voice from somewhere.
Inches away and yet so far.
Chief Stuckey.
In Kodiak.
He was thousands of miles from that ridge where he’d asked Justine to marry him. From where she’d stomped his heart out and left him for dead.
Emily.
Where was she?
On a boat somewhere on the ocean.
Alive?
Where was Oscar?
He hoped the little grouch had survived the explosion at the gas station. Maybe he’d returned to the wild and would once again live a normal life.
Marco swallowed hard. It was probably for the best, but it still left an empty space in his heart.
“Marco,” Stuckey whispered.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Must’ve nodded off.”
“Must’ve been dreaming. You were making noises like it was a nightmare.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. We have to keep it together. These people need us now more than ever.”
It came back now.
Charlie had locked them all up in a stripped bare storage room. Surrounded by concrete block walls with no windows to let in light. There were at least twenty other people locked in with them. Everyone who’d survived the ambush at the meeting. All of the people who’d been recruited because they had the will and ability to resist.
Now captured and imprisoned.
How long had they been there?
They’d been herded to the back and locked up some time last night. After that sick welcome from Charlie.
Was it still night?
More awake now, he noticed the stiff ache in his shoulders from sleeping on the hard concrete floor. He rolled a shoulder. It was the kind of ache that took hours to settle in. It must’ve been the next morning if not later.
He checked the watch Emily had given him. The green glow blinked on, under-lighting his face.
8:17 AM.
It blinked off.
It was the chunky black rubberized kind. Not a style he would’ve chosen back in the normal world. But it was now his most prized possession.
Was she okay?
The image of his ex, Justine, jumped into his mind. She’d gone to Los Angeles. The last frown she’d given him before she left passed through his mind.
Her disappointment in him not measuring up to the life she’d wanted to live. The frown that had crushed him and made him feel worthless for so long.
But to his surprise, the memory no longer conjured even the slightest pangs of remorse or loss for what might’ve been.
Instead, a vision of Emily’s warm brown eyes filled his thoughts. The hidden sorrow deep with their fractal patterns. The restrained longing that he wished she’d unleashed.
Where was she?
A muffled clank sounded outside the door as someone unlocked it and then yanked it open with a screech from stubborn hinges.
A flashlight blinked on and a beam of light pierced the air.
Marco blinked through the sudden change.
The light swept around the room, casting a bright circle of illumination on the huddled forms of the other prisoners.
Marco’s eyes adjusted to take in the person holding the light.
Alexei Volkov. Red, as Stuckey called him.
The giant that had somehow become Charlie’s right hand man.
Red stomped over and yanked Marco to his feet. He did it with ease, like lifting a child.
Stuckey started to rise to intervene.
Red spun to face him with surprising speed. “Give me a reason. The boss won’t mind if I break a few of your bones.”
Stuckey’s mustache twitched as the anger boiled to the surface.
Marco put a hand on his shoulder. “Be smart. These people need you.”
What he didn’t say and what he definitely meant was that it also wasn’t going to do anyone any good to have the chief squirming in a pool of his own blood, spitting out fragments of his teeth.
In a fair fight, he’d pick the chief against the Russian bear any day. But after the rough treatment they’d all endured after being captured, this wouldn’t be a fair fight.
And that wasn’t even considering the baton conspicuously attached to Red’s hip.
Stuckey lowered himself back to the floor. The snarl never uncurled his lips though.
“I thought so,” Red said with a sneer. He jerked Marco to the side nearly making him fall and then shoved him toward the open door. “The boss wants to see you.”
33
The guard standing outside the door opened it as Red and Marco arrived. He stepped inside ahead of them and announced their presence. “Hey boss, Red got the kid for you.”
Red shoved past and scowled at the man. “I think he can see that for himself, you imbecile.”
The man bit his lips together and the air burned with the heat of their meeting eyes.
“You can go,” Charlie said from the far end of a rectangular table. “Now.”
The man broke the contest of wills and nodded in submission before exiting and closing the door behind him.
Charlie pushed his chair back and stood. He smiled with arms spread wide. “Welcome, Marco, if I remember correctly. Is that right?”
Marco nodded.
“Only a few weeks ago, but it feels like we met in another world. In another age.”
“The end of the world can have that effect.”
Charlie grinned. “A profound truth, no doubt.” He glanced to Red and tilted his head to the door.
“You sure, boss? I don’t trust this one.”
“Alexei, don’t make an enemy of a man who may yet be my friend.”
Red didn’t respond.
“Do you hear me?” Charlie said as he touched a finger to his ear. The dark threat permeating the question couldn’t have been more clear.
“Yes, boss. Of course.” He turned to leave, but was frozen by the sharp slap of the next question.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Uhh, I don’t think so.”
Charlie’s demeanor switched from levity to disappointment in a flash. From disappointment to impatience in another. And from impatience to rage in one more. “Remove the handcuffs, you idiot! Now!”
Red shuddered like his testicles had been tasered. “Sorry, boss.” He scrambled to cut the plastic cables free. So much so that Marco waited for the line of fire that meant the blade had sliced him open.
It didn’t.
The plastic cuffs fell to the floor.
“Wait outside,” Charlie said.
Red nodded and hurried out.
Marco watched the interaction in wonder. He’d seen the behavior before. One of the old ranch owners that used to have adjacent land to his acted like that. He was nice enough to people, but he was cruel as could be to the half-dozen dogs that for some reason never ran away from his property.
He’d never liked that guy. And he was a saint compared to the man standing across the room.
Charlie gestured at the table filled with more food and drink than Marco had seen in weeks. Since the morning that the competition began when he and Emily and Suyin
had breakfast at Queen’s Diner. A breakfast fit for a king and one he hadn’t come close to repeating since.
But here.
Now.
This was a breakfast fit for an Emperor.
Especially now that the grocery stores had no more groceries. Now that the convenience stores offered no more conveniences.
A thick slab of grilled salmon with curling wisps of steam rising up set off the waterworks in his mouth. He swallowed a few times to keep his mouth from filling up.
A serving plate piled high with scrambled eggs. The plate next to it with piled equally high with crispy bacon. The rich scent of baked bread, the sweetest perfume imaginable.
“Have a seat,” Charlie said as he rounded the table and gestured at the chair opposite his own.
Marco nodded and nearly dove into the chair. He didn’t care what the crazy man had to say. If listening for a few minutes meant he could scarf down a boatload of desperately needed calories, so be it. He hadn’t exactly been living high on the hog during his time in the wilderness. And it hadn’t taken long after his return for supplies in Kodiak to get scarce.
Whatever he consumed here would make him stronger.
And whatever the future held in store, strength would be of benefit.
Charlie reach into a bowl, lifted a folded kitchen towel, and pulled out a golden brown biscuit. He set it on his plate and scooped up a ladle full of sausage gravy. He held the ladle under his nose and breathed in. “Not quite like we made at home, but it’ll do.” He lathered it over the biscuit. “The key is the sausage. The meat has to be spiced and charred just right to keep its form and flavor.”
Marco grunted as he speared a slab of salmon with his fork. He bit off a huge chunk and the delicate filet hit his tongue like an explosion. The pleasure was almost painful. Juice drizzled down his chin.
Charlie pointed at the napkin beside Marco’s plate. “I realize we are living through the end of the world, but we can still try to be civilized.”
Marco nodded as he wiped an arm across his chin.
The merest hint of anger flared in Charlie’s eyes and then passed. He reached into a carton of beer and dug out a can. He cracked it open and set it in front of Marco. “One of the benefits to living in a brewery. You a beer drinker?”