by AnonYMous
What she discovered when she arrived back in reception made her forget about her tears quite quickly. JD was still there, smiling at her as she hurried back to him. But lying on the floor at his feet in a state of unconsciousness was James the security guard.
Forgetting about her tears for a moment, she hurried over and peered down at James. He was laid out, completely motionless on the floor. She looked back up at JD.
‘What happened?’ she asked, her voice revealing her obvious concern for the security guard.
‘I think he fainted,’ said JD shrugging. ‘How was your meeting?’
‘His face is covered in blood,’ Beth said, staring at the terrible state of James’s face. She leaned down to take a closer look at the stricken security guard. ‘How did that happen?’
‘He had a nosebleed. I think the sight of his own blood is what made him faint.’
Beth frowned. ‘But his nose looks broken and his eyes are swollen.’
‘Yeah. Weird. So what did your boss say?’
‘I got fired.’
JD reached out and stroked her hair away from her face. He could see she’d been crying. ‘It’s just a job. Not worth crying about. Look on the bright side, now we’ve got no reason to stay in this shithole town.’
‘It’s not being fired that bothers me so much as the way he did it.’
‘Why? What did he do?’
Beth sniffed. The tears were coming back. ‘He said my scar bothers everyone here and I should be more considerate and cover it up.’
‘Fucking cunt.’
JD stormed past her in the direction of Simmonds’s office.
Simmonds was glad to see the back of Beth Lansbury. Now that the museum was under his control there was absolutely no need to be employing women with facial disfigurements. It made him shudder to think that Cromwell had been so foolish as to employ her in the first place, what with the fact she was a convicted murderer too. What a ghastly image for the museum. A scar-faced murderer working there. Well not any more. Firing her had been fun too. He was still congratulating himself on making her cry when the door to his office flew open and one angry looking dude stormed in.
‘Who are you?’ Simmonds asked.
‘Are you Simmonds?’
‘Yes. And I’ll ask again, who are you?’
‘I’m JD, the guy that’s come to ram your face up your own ass.’
Simmonds sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Have you come to cause a scene?’ he said nonchalantly. ‘Because if you have, I’ll get security to have you removed.’
JD approached Simmonds desk and leaned over it to get into his personal space. ‘Security’s lying on his back upstairs with a broken nose.’
‘So you have come to cause a scene then? Well you should know this. I know karate,’ Simmonds said coolly. He demonstrated a few slow motion karate chops with his hands. ‘These hands are deadly weapons.’
JD reached over the desk and grabbed him by the throat, hauling him up out of his seat, so that the two of them were eyeball to eyeball. ‘Try using those hands now,’ he growled.
Simmonds swallowed hard and responded in as brave a voice as he could muster. ‘Get out of my office before I call the police.’
‘You think it’s funny to take the piss out of someone for having a scar on her face? How about I slice your face up and then take the piss outta you?’
Simmonds smirked and nodded at the doorway behind JD. ‘Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your girlfriend.’
JD looked back over his shoulder. Beth was standing in the doorway behind him. Simmonds could see that she’d been crying. She looked as bereft of self-confidence as she always did. The girl really was a pathetic excuse for a human being. Simmonds couldn’t work out quite how she’d ever managed to murder someone. She looked too timid.
‘JD, leave him,’ she pleaded. ‘It doesn’t matter. He’s not worth the trouble.’
JD looked back at Simmonds. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he slowly and reluctantly released his grip on the manager’s throat. Simmonds slouched back into his leather chair with a satisfied smirk across his face.
‘I carry a lot of sway around this city these days you know,’ he bragged.
‘I don’t give a—’
Beth jumped in to cut him short. ‘JD, please let’s just go. I don’t want any trouble with the police.’
‘See,’ said Simmonds. ‘With her criminal record, she can’t take any chances, and neither should you. Listen to Tony Montana. She knows what she’s talking about.’
JD furrowed his brow. ‘What did you just call her?’
‘Tony Montana. That’s what everyone calls her around here. You know, Scarface.’
Before JD could lunge over the desk at Simmonds, Beth grabbed him by the arm.
‘Please let’s go,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I’m not working here any more. You wouldn’t want me to have a job working for this guy, would you?’
‘No, but I’d feel better if I knocked him out.’
‘But I won’t. I don’t want to lose you again just because you’ve beaten up this loser and been arrested. Come on, let’s go.’
JD eyeballed Elijah Simmonds for a few more seconds before Beth dragged him away. He managed one last comment. It was almost lost under his breath but it was just loud enough for Simmonds to pick up on it.
‘This isn’t finished.’
Simmonds’s face broke out into a huge grin. ‘Yeah, good one,’ he called after them as they left his office without closing the door behind them. ‘See ya, JD. What’s that stand for anyway? Juvenile Dick?’
JD didn’t answer. Simmonds got up and closed the door behind them then sat back at his desk and congratulated himself on wielding a little more of his newly acquired power. He turned back to his computer to check on the local news to see if there was any announcement about his appointment as the Museum’s new manager. The news mentioned the demise of Bertram Cromwell but had no mention of Simmonds replacing him. As he scoured through the article he came across some breaking news. It said:
CCTV footage of the Bourbon Kid found. Click here to see what he looks like.
Simmonds clicked on the link expecting to see the footage he had provided to Captain Dan Harker. Instead what he saw was some different footage of the Bourbon Kid walking into the local police station with two other guys dressed as cops. He recognised one of the cops as Dante Vittori, a former employee at the museum. But that wasn’t what really caught his eye. He recognised the face of the Bourbon Kid too. It was JD, the man who had just left his office with Beth Lansbury.
Twelve
Even though the elevator doors had closed before Ulrika Price got anywhere near him, Sanchez knew it was only going to be a brief reprieve. Having pressed the button to take him down to the basement he was now faced with two options. He could either get out when the doors opened and make a run for it, or stay in the elevator and press one of the shit covered buttons to head back up to one of the higher floors. Problem was, if Ulrika had called the elevator back to the ground floor, the doors would open when he got there and she’d be upon him. And all he had to defend himself from any attack was a dirty mop. Time was not on his side, so when the elevator doors opened he decided to head straight out. He was greeted by the sight of a disused locker room. The place (much like the elevator) was covered in blood, mostly on the floor, but there were also specks sprayed across the walls and doors of the lockers.
As the elevator doors closed behind him he began retreating down through the rows of lockers, watching the elevator to see if it went back up. He was backing himself into a corner with only a damp mop covered in blood, shit and a touch of soapy water as protection.
After a few seconds he heard the gears churn and the elevator started moving upwards. He continued edging back from it, keeping one eye on the door in the wall next to the elevator in case Ulrika charged through it. He couldn’t see a single decent hiding place either. His options seemed limited to the locker
s or the benches in front of them. And Sanchez was in no kind of shape to be fitting himself into a locker, or under a bench for that matter.
Glancing behind him he saw that he was heading towards a communal shower area. This had potential. Maybe if he turned on all the showers he could create some steam to hide in? If Ulrika showed up and followed him in, he could catch her with his mop and make a break for it. It was lame. Not a plan that even Sanchez was proud of, but what else did he have? And why was Ulrika taking so long to get down to the basement? Maybe she was killing Flake?
Damn, Sanchez had forgotten all about Flake in his haste to escape from Ulrika. If Flake perished at the hands of Ulrika, he’d have to find another ride home if he made it out of the station in one piece. Flake made a pretty damn good breakfast too. Sanchez hated the thought that he might have to get his early morning fry up from somewhere other than the Ole Au Lait.
As he pondered every trivial matter that came to mind, he backed into one of the shower switches. What followed was a grinding sound from behind. He spun around and saw the wall behind him sliding to one side. A secret compartment had opened up for him. What a stroke of luck! A clear sign if one was needed that Sanchez’s infrequent visits to church had paid off.
The room behind the door was actually quite a substantial size. And it had a long wooden table in it. No bloody chairs though. Sanchez was about to congratulate himself on finding the secret room when he realised he couldn’t see a switch anywhere to close the wall back up again. No use being in a secret room if everyone can see in. He looked around frantically for some kind of switch inside the room. There didn’t seem to be anything remotely resembling a switch. Maybe moving the table would trigger something off?
He leaned his back against the table to see if he could shift it. It moved back easily enough. But as it did the elevator at the other end of the locker room made a pinging noise and its doors parted slowly. Ulrika Price stormed out. She clocked Sanchez right away.
‘Where’s my book, you thieving bastard?’ she screamed.
Sanchez pushed back hard against the table and succeeded in forcing it back against the wall. It achieved nothing. The secret doorway remained open. He watched in terror as Ulrika launched herself towards him at great speed. Her feet left the ground and she flew through the air, her arms outstretched. Sanchez had seen some unpleasant stuff in his time, but the sight of a crazy librarian bitch flying at him, was right up there with the worst of them. He grabbed a firm hold of his mop and lifted his ass up on to the table behind him. Then climbing to his feet, he stood firm on the table and held the mop out to fend off the onrushing vampire.
Ulrika landed back on her feet at the entrance to the secret room and sneered at him. ‘That mop won’t save you!’ she hissed.
‘It’s got shit on the end of it!’ Sanchez warned. ‘And I’ll shove it in your face! I’m warning you. Stay back!’
It didn’t deter Ulrika who once again leapt from the floor and flew up towards Sanchez’s head. Bracing himself for the impact of her attack, he thrust the mop at her from his position up high on the table. Being pretty useful with a mop, he successfully caught her full in the face with the shittiest part of the mop head. It knocked her off balance, forcing her back. She landed upright on her feet and Sanchez retracted the mop, ready to go back in with another lunge if needed.
Ulrika’s face was covered in blood, shit, soap and oddly enough a small piece of sweetcorn. She wiped most of it away with one swipe of her long bony right hand.
Sanchez warned her again. ‘This mop has a lifetime supply of filth. Come one step closer and it goes on your shoes, bitch.’
Ulrika lowered her head and bent her knees to make herself a smaller target so she could avoid the prods of his mop as she looked for the best way to attack him. It didn’t take her long to work it out. She lunged down at the table beneath him and grabbed a hold of one of the legs on the near side. She yanked it hard. As she pulled at it, Sanchez swung the mop head at her once more, catching her on the side of the head. But Ulrika was strong. The strength of her pull on the table moved it swiftly and violently towards her causing Sanchez to lose his footing. He tumbled forward off the table. In order to avoid smashing his face on the floor he had to manoeuvre the mop head so that his face landed on it to cushion the blow. He heard a horrible squishing noise as the remains of what was left on the mop splashed over his face. There was no time to lie around whining about it though. Keeping a tight grip on its handle he clambered to his feet and saw Ulrika on his right, lunging towards him. He prodded the mop at her feet, just as he’d threatened to. If he was going down he was taking that bitch’s shoes with him. The mop connected with her comfy red lesbian shoes and unbalanced her just enough to buy him the time to turn and run. He knew that Ulrika would most likely catch up with him before he reached the elevator, but he had to make a break for it.
He ran down through the rows of lockers as fast as he could. Unfortunately that wasn’t particularly fast, and the mop made things particularly awkward. He only made it past three lockers out of a row of thirty, before he was confronted by Ulrika again. She had somersaulted over his head and landed in front of him, blocking his only escape route out of the locker room. Her face looked murderous, and a little shitty. Her hair was unkempt and her eyes full of spite. This was one riled-up bitch. Sanchez had no option but to swing his mop again. This time Ulrika was too quick for him. She grabbed a hold of the mop handle and yanked it out of his hands. Then she tossed it to the floor and revealed her vampire fangs once more. She spat out a hiss and then launched herself at him again. Sanchez cowered down and raised an arm to fend her off, but it was to no avail. Ulrika pounced on his back and pushed him down to the floor, pinning him there with her knee pressed into the small of his back. It knocked the wind out of him and left him powerless to fight back.
He felt her breath on the side of his face as she leaned down to speak in his ear. ‘I’ve never liked you, Sanchez. Now tell me what you’ve done with my Book of Death!’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he protested.
‘You won’t be able to lie to me when I rip out your jugular,’ she hissed.
‘Rick from the Ole Au Lait has it.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Honest.’
Ulrika grabbed a clump of his hair and pulled his head up off the floor, almost breaking his neck. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said sniffing his neck for a good spot to bite. ‘I can smell a lie you know.’
‘Are you sure it’s not the shit from the mop?’
‘You think you’re so funny, don’t you?’ she hissed. ‘Let’s see how funny you taste, shall we?’
Sanchez closed his eyes and winced in readiness for whatever pain was about to follow. Ulrika let out another sickening animalistic hiss right by his ear.
A gentle thud followed.
And then a longer hiss. A really loud hiss. Sanchez suddenly felt like his back was on fire. The burning feeling lasted little more than two or three seconds as the cowardly bartender lay eyes closed on the floor waiting for the moment of truth.
There was another gentle thud as something landed on his back. Then he heard Flake’s voice speak out from behind him. ‘Are you okay honey?’
‘Huh?’
Sanchez opened his eyes and peered back. Flake was stood over him. She lifted a thick brown hardback book off his back and dusted it off.
‘What the hell?’ Sanchez asked aloud, baffled at the lack of any sign of Ulrika Price. ‘Where’s the psycho bookworm gone?’
Flake tucked the brown book under her left arm and held out her right hand to offer him a lift up from the floor. Sanchez took a hold of her hand and hauled himself up. Flake was smiling, looking very happy about something.
‘What’s going on?’ Sanchez asked again.
‘I hit that bitch over the head with this book,’ said Flake holding out the brown hardback book.
‘So where’d she go?’
‘She burst
into flames and then turned into ash. Look.’ She gestured at a patch of thick black ash, most of which was settling on the floor, and some of which was no doubt on Sanchez’s back.
‘What the fuck?’ Sanchez was still confused.
‘This book kills vampires, I guess,’ Flake said with a shrug.
‘But how did you know?’
‘I didn’t. My horoscope today said that I should use a book for something other than reading.’
‘You do everything your horoscope tells you?’
‘Oh yeah, I live my life by Big Busty Sally’s horoscope.’
‘God bless Sally. Did she tell you to come down to the locker room too?’
Flake laughed. ‘No I just followed Ulrika down here to try and help you. When I got here she was on top of you. Then I saw this book sticking out of one of the lockers over there and I thought about what my horoscope had said. So I hit her over the head with it. As soon as it made contact with her she just spontaneously combusted.’
Sanchez dusted himself off. ‘Wow. You did that because of a horoscope?’ he asked, failing to mask the surprise in his voice.
‘Well partly,’ said Flake. ‘But you and me are a team. We’ve got to watch each other’s backs. You led her down here so that we’d have her cornered, right?’
Sanchez coughed. ‘Well yes. Obviously. I had to get her away from you, so that you’d be safe. I knew she’d follow me down here.’
‘You’re so clever Sanchez. I’d give you a kiss, but it looks like you have poo on your face.’