by Bryan Smith
Even if it meant his life.
This was it.
The moment of truth. Do or die. Everything was riding on what happened in these next few minutes. His sister’s future was hanging in the balance. It was up to him to see to it that she had a shot at some kind of normal life someday down the road. She would be furious with him now, but hopefully she would thank him later.
He eased the car to a stop and engaged the emergency brake. This was another carefully considered element of the plan. A sudden squelching of brakes would have alerted the hidden security team to possible danger too soon. In a situation like this, even an extra second or two could mean the difference between success and failure.
He was out of the car and racing up onto the sidewalk in a flash, brandishing a 9mm pistol. Cult members and pedestrians reacted predictably, with shouts and shrieks of fright. It was a natural reaction to seeing a hooded man waving a gun about in a public place. But the excitement was lost on Casey, whose sole focus was Keely. Her back was to him as he hit the sidewalk, but she turned toward him as she heard the shouts. He had her firmly gripped by an arm before she could take even a single step back. A male cult member with long, stringy hair attempted to intervene, but Casey was having none of that. He slammed the butt of the pistol into the center of the guy’s face, breaking his nose and sending him squawking to the sidewalk. Then he waved the gun again, backing off several other cult members as well as several random would-be heroes. The latter concerned him almost as much as the cult members, because they didn’t see a guy rescuing his sister. They saw a black-clad thug trying to abduct a young woman.
Keely was thrashing and screaming at him as he dragged her toward the car. Casey got her around to the other side, got the back door open and started shoving her inside. A number of people had edged close to him again from all sides, but they backed off some as the barrel of the gun whipped toward them. No one wanted to get shot. And he had already shown he would hurt anyone who got in his way. Those were factors that, thus far, were working in his favor. A couple more moments and he’d be on his way, mission accomplished.
Unfortunately, one pivotal factor did not work in his favor. And that was the utter disregard for human life de Rais’ men had. A glance over the roof of the Honda showed a burly, bald guy dressed all in black aiming a big handgun at him. Casey ducked an instant before the man squeezed the trigger of his gun. The gun made a big bang and someone behind Casey fell over dead in the street. Casey popped back up and fired a shot of his own over the roof. The slug took the big man in the shoulder and spun him about, but in his place were two more black-clad men with guns. Casey dropped to the street again as they opened fire, watching in dismay as more pedestrians on the opposite sidewalk sprouted wounds and went crashing to the ground. While he was pinned down, Keely took advantage of his momentary helplessness and slithered out of the car. He swiped a hand at the hem of her skirt, his fingertips brushing futilely over soft fabric as she made good her getaway. He screamed then as an immense frustration welled up inside him.
So close! So fucking close!
His rage was such that all concern for his own safety vanished. He bounced up again and popped off several more shots at de Rais’ black-clad soldiers before dropping back into the car, where he disengaged the emergency brake and hit the gas. The Honda’s wheels squealed as he shot down the avenue. A pedestrian crossing the street didn’t get out of his way in time and got clipped by his front bumper. Casey grimaced, but put it out of his mind. The important thing was making his getaway before the cops could close in.
He’d known there was a chance this could end in a spectacle of very public violence and had planned for that as well. In the event of failure, getting caught would mean he’d never have another chance at rescuing Keely and that was unacceptable.
He turned left at Church Street and continued his high speed flight as he passed through several intersections, including two where the light was red. Cars crashed and horns honked, but Casey didn’t slow down. He kept going full speed until he took a turn at a side street and then down a narrow alley, where he pulled to a screeching stop next to an overflowing Dumpster outside the rear exit of a downtown restaurant. His own silver Hyundai was parked on the other side of the Dumpster. He stripped the hoodie off and ditched it in the stolen Honda before abandoning it in favor of his own ride.
Wasting no time, he drove the Hyundai fast in the opposite direction down the alley until he hit the next side street. Before he reached the street, he removed the sunglasses and baseball cap and shook out his long hair. These and the gun went in the glove compartment. He had to wait until he reached the light at Broadway before he could remove his leather gloves. These he tossed into the back.
He forced himself to remain perfectly composed despite the rising blare of sirens. The light turned green, but he stayed where he was as several cop cruisers went shooting down Broadway en route to 2nd Avenue. His heart pounding, he gripped the steering wheel hard and waited for the light to cycle back to green again.
After an eternity, it finally did.
He let out the breath he’d been holding for the same eternity and turned right onto Broadway, driving the speed limit as he fled the scene of his second botched kidnapping attempt. Only when he was many, many blocks away did he allow himself to vent his frustration by screaming and repeatedly pounding the Hyundai’s steering wheel.
Chapter Four
Some Fucked-Up Shit that Happened on the Road, Part One
Ominous black clouds blocked out the sky in Tupelo that afternoon as Dez stepped outside for a smoke. From the balcony of the Sleepytime Inn’s second floor, what she could see of the little city looked like it was waiting to get squashed by a giant black fist. There was a slight chill in the air and a fine mist of drizzle, but the real downpour had yet to begin. Dez could feel it coming in the way her skin tingled and by the faint scent of sulfur. A loud boom of thunder emphasized this impression. The sound was gigantic, as massive and air-stirring as the detonation of military ordnance.
The roiling sky and blasts of thunder tinged the afternoon with a distinctly apocalyptic feel. Dez felt like she had a ringside seat to the end of the world. She loved it. Playing in the rain had been one of the purest joys of her early girlhood. She liked the feel of water sliding over bare flesh dotted with goose bumps.
She lit a Virginia Slim and leaned against the balcony railing. A slightly harder patter of rain started hitting the parking lot asphalt below at the same time. She smiled. Maybe she would head down there and dance around in the rain after she finished the cigarette.
A door creaked open behind her and in a moment Lana joined her at the railing. She nudged Dez with an elbow. “Bum a smoke?”
“Thought you were trying to quit.”
“Changed my mind.”
Dez smiled. “Oh yeah? Why?”
“Knowing I’m probably gonna die young anyway.”
Dez nodded and handed over the pack.
Lana blazed up and stared out at the charcoal sky. “Gonna storm like a motherfucker.”
Dez exhaled smoke. “Yeah.”
“Maybe we should go in.”
“Thinking about playing in the rain.”
Lana gave her a funny look. “Have you lost your mind? Look at that sky.”
“You already know I’m crazy, bitch. Don’t even ask that.”
Lana shook her head. “Crazy is one thing. I’m not the poster girl for mental stability, either. But getting struck by lightning isn’t my idea of a good time.”
Dez shrugged. “Fuck it. We take bigger risks every day. I’ll die when I die. That shit doesn’t scare me.”
“You’re a badass.”
Dez nodded. “You know it. And, hell, I can think of worse ways to go out. If God chooses today to reach down from the sky and zap my ass, so be it. It’d even be sort of cool.”
Lana’s expression turned thoughtful. “I guess it beats death by lethal injection.”
“Fuck yeah,
it does. Wanna join me?”
Lana smiled. “Nah. You do what you want. I’m gonna go back in and stay dry. Maybe get high and listen to the fireworks.”
Dez shrugged. “I’d love to get wet with you, but suit yourself.”
“Oh, Dez, you always get me wet, you know that.”
Dez leaned over and gave Lana a light kiss on the mouth. “And don’t you forget it. Anyway…how’s our girl doing?”
Lana frowned at the reference to Echo. “Still sleeping it off. Thought she was gonna fucking die on us for a while.”
Dez exhaled smoke again and tapped ash over the railing. “She should lay off the fucking vodka.”
Lana grunted. “You try telling her that.”
Dez sighed. “Right. She’d call me a hypocrite for all the fucking blow I do, and she wouldn’t be wrong. Girl knows what she’s doing. Up to her if she wants to keep going down that road. Same goes for you or me.”
Lana laughed. “Damn. That almost sounded profound. Never thought you had it in you.”
Dez smirked. “I haven’t had anything in me in too long.”
Lana rolled her eyes. Dez had a knack for turning even the most innocent remark into something risqué. “There’s always your jelly man.”
Dez smiled at the mention of her eight-inch dildo. She also had a strap-on she sometimes could coax Lana or, less frequently, Echo into using on her. “Maybe later.”
Thunder crashed again, louder than ever, and the real downpour began at last. Silver sheets of heavy rain gushed from the sky.
Lana flicked her half-smoked cigarette over the railing and took a quick step back. “I’m going in. I’ll see you when you come to your senses.”
“See ya.”
Dez heard the door to their room open and slam shut as Lana beat a hasty retreat from nature’s assault. She dropped her cigarette and leaned out even farther over the railing, allowing the rain to drench her torso. The torrent of water flattened her hair and plastered her halter top to her body and felt wonderful sluicing down her flesh.
After maybe a full minute, she stepped back from the railing, swept her hair back and began to swipe water from her eyes. Though this was the Deep South, it was still early spring and there was a nip in the air, a sensation the water heightened. She shivered and considered joining the other girls in the room. Reckless disregard for Mother Nature was one thing, but she didn’t much relish the prospect of catching pneumonia.
A door somewhere to her right clicked open and in a moment she heard the clomp of booted feet on concrete. She swiped more water from her eyes and turned her head toward the sound, a smile blooming on her face as she got a look at the stranger. “Why, hello there.”
A grizzled-looking but not entirely unattractive man eyed her with a curious expression. “Hello yourself. Looks like you got wet.”
Dez smirked.
That’s quite the gift for stating the obvious you’ve got there, buddy.
“I must have been thinking of you.”
Curiosity gave way to confusion as his brow knitted. “What?”
Dez smiled. “You’re right, I’m wet. So I must have been thinking of you.”
The man’s look of confusion deepened. “Come again?”
“I’d like to.”
He squinted at her. “Darlin’, you ain’t makin’ a lick of sense.”
Dez sighed. “Wow, are you slow on the uptake. Do you want to fuck me or not?”
His astonished expression made Dez laugh. But then he shook his head and began to smile, stroking his silver beard as his pale blue eyes roved over her body, belatedly taking note of her lush curves and exquisitely muscled long legs. The smile improved his borderline good looks, giving her a glimpse of how he must have looked decades earlier. He had deep wrinkles around his eyes and a full head of gray hair to go with his beard. The guy had a lot of miles on him—Dez put him at either late forties or early fifties—but he looked like he still had a bit of gas in the tank.
His laugh was a deep rumble. “Ain’t I a mite aged for the likes of you?”
Dez chuckled as she approached him and tugged gently at the front of his shirt. “That just means you’ve got experience, big daddy.” She danced her fingers up the length of his torso and stroked his bristly beard. “So how about it?”
He made a thoughtful sound. “This is a damn tempting offer you’re making, I gotta admit.”
Dez pushed herself against him, delighting in the way he shivered at the physical contact. “And not the kind that comes along every day, am I right?”
“You can say that again.”
Dez made a purring sound low in her throat. “Well, my advice is you should take advantage of your good luck.”
“I’d sure like to do just that. Only thing is I was heading out to get a six-pack of beer. I’ve had a rough old day and I’ve kind of built up a thirst.”
Dez moved back a step and slapped a hand against his chest. “Shit, I can take care of that. You don’t have to go out in the nasty rain. Wait right there, big daddy. I’ll be right back.”
Lana was sitting at the little table by the window as Dez came into the room. She had an open bottle of Rolling Rock in front of her as she flipped through an old issue of Elle. She gave Dez a squinty look. “You got wet.”
“Everybody’s showing off their fucking powers of observation today.”
Dez went to the mini-fridge in a corner of the room, pulled out six cans of Bud, cradled them against her chest and kicked the fridge’s door shut as she stood again. She glanced at Echo as she headed back to the door. The girl was still sprawled facedown across one of the room’s two twin beds. “Any signs of life?”
Lana shrugged and flipped a page in the magazine. “Woke up for a minute when I came back in, said she wanted a beer.” Another bored page flip. “Passed out again.”
Dez laughed. “You should fuck with her while she’s out. Write ‘drunk-ass bitch’ on her face with lipstick.”
“Maybe I’ll do that.” Lana frowned as she glanced up from the magazine. “Where are you going with all that beer?”
“Got a hot date with the guy next door. Want to join us, make it a threesome?”
Lana frowned. “But you hate men.”
Dez’s smile turned mischievous. “Except for those rare times when I don’t.”
“So it’s like that.” Lana pursed her lips for a moment before shaking her head. “Sorry, not in the mood. Have fun, though.”
“Oh, I think you can count on it.”
The old redneck was still waiting for her on the balcony landing. Dez wasn’t surprised. No straight guy with a pulse would pass up what she was offering. “Hey, big daddy. You ready to party with Dez?”
He smiled and took some of the beer off her hands. “Suppose I am. That your name? Dez?”
“Sure is. What’s yours?”
“Dale.”
She followed Dale back to his room. He flipped a light switch on as they entered the room, which was a mirror image of the one Dez was sharing with her friends. Same little round table by the window, same two twin beds, same small television atop a little dresser and same mini-fridge in a corner. A weathered old Samsonite suitcase rested atop the twin bed on the far side of the room. That bed’s linen had not been disturbed. Dale had slept in the bed closer to the door. Dez could tell by the rumpled sheets. The little wastebasket between the beds was overflowing, and the table’s surface was obscured by empty beer bottles.
“Been here long, Dale?”
Dale pushed aside some of the empties to make room on the table and set down the cold cans of Bud he’d been holding, gesturing for Dez to do the same. He popped the tab on one and took a deep swallow. “About a week.”
“Long time to stay in a joint that ain’t pay-by-the-week.”
Dale scratched at his beard. “Yeah. Guess it is.”
“So what’s the story?”
“Just taking my time to figure some shit out.”
“What kind of shit?”
Dale’s entire demeanor was different now. He didn’t seem as flustered as he had been during Dez’s brazen flirtation with him out on the balcony. His chest was puffed out and his chin had an arrogant tilt to it. The shift would have unsettled most women enough to send them running from the room, but Dez didn’t frighten easily. She had a hunch he was accustomed to intimidating women, maybe didn’t even like them much aside from their obvious necessity for sexual release. Having had extensive experience with a lot of piggish men during her time, Dez’s hunches in this regard were usually accurate.
But she had another hunch, as well, and that was that Dale had probably never met another woman quite like her.
She popped open a beer can and sipped from it. “No need to be short with me, baby. I was just curious.”
There was an odd twist to his mouth as he said, “Curiosity killed the cat.”
Dez tugged at the front of his shirt and said, “How much you know about killing, Dale?”
He put a hand on one of her breasts, gave it a rough squeeze. “More than most men.”
Dez’s lips parted in a soft moan as the pad of his thumb pushed at her stiff nipple. She arched her back and leaned into his touch. “Oh…I like that. Do it again.” Dale complied and she responded with another, louder moan. “That feels so fucking good. Keep doing it.”
He grunted. “So you’re that kind of girl. I know just how to handle the likes of you.”