The Big Bad

by Phil Beloin Jr.

  I hoped it hadn’t happened. I hoped Teddy had gotten away and assumed me, Pam, and Eddie were toast, and just moved on with his life.

  I turned around and looked at the cabin. Pam and I had covered our tracks about as best as we could. Yeah, we couldn’t get rid of all our prints and DNA, but I believed we had created enough reasonable doubt about when we could have been here. As for the bullet holes here and there—hikers and punks vandalizing private property.

  "It’s all done," Pam said coming up the deck’s stairs.

  "Good."

  "His belongings are in the convertible."

  "Then we’re all set."

  "When do we get out of here?"

  "Soon. At sunset."

  "This place is giving me the creeps."

  I put an arm around her shoulders. "But it’s our special place, baby. Where you and I first met."

  "That’s the only good thing about it."

  "We can come back here on our anniversary."

  "I ain’t never coming back here again, Nick."

  "Make wonderful love in every room of this beautiful cabin."

  She tilted her head to the side of the cabin. "I’d just be thinking about Teddy out in the woods somewhere without even a marker to remember him by. And Eddie and the others, churning into dust."

  "I’d bet some real pretty flowers will be sprouting up over by our tiny mass grave next year about this time." I kissed her cheek. "Do you wanna know something fascinating about the human body, baby?"

  "About how quickly emotions change?"

  "Naaa. That’s nothing compared to this."

  "What is it then?"

  "About how decaying remains are one of nature’s best fertilizers."

  "Oh, Nickie!"

  "It’s a solid fact, baby. We keep loading all these dead folks into coffins, sealing up nature’s goodness. It’s just another way mankind is ruining this environment."

  "Where’d you hear all this?"

  "Forget it, baby."

  "I hate when you say that."

  I shrugged and that sent pain down my back. The tranquilizer halves had worn off hours ago. Or maybe my constitution had adapted that fast.

  "Your shoulder’s bad, isn’t it?" she said.

  "Hurts fierce."

  "What are we going to do?"

  I told her about the doctor practicing near Irv’s office.

  "Yeah," Pam said, "I saw his name on the downstairs board once. I think it’s Dr. Reece."

  "Yeah, that’s him," I said. "He’ll fix me up okay. Maybe we can see him tonight. You want a beer before we head out?"

  She didn’t have time to answer because we heard a car struggling up the hill.

  38

  They had had a hard time finding it, spending a long time looking along the road, first from their windows, then on foot, spreading out, marching into the woods, each one thinking they were likely to get lost and never see the other two again.

  Stomping through the leaves and downed trees, Irv’s bum knee aching, he was thinking, Fuck this, let’s concentrate back on the road and those two can carry me to the top, but then he bumped into it, brushing a few branches aside and coming onto the driveway near the deep washout where Nick had gotten stuck. He saw the tire tracks left by a car, knew he was in the right spot. Looking up the path, Irv saw no sign of the cabin or heard anything but the birds singing. All those trees and leaves mixed together, in what Irv always thought of as chaos. It reminded him of the forests in Vermont where he had grown up.

  So long ago. And look how far I’ve come; going to a wake of the woman I love and had killed.

  He headed back down the path, easier on the injured joint going that way, wiping sweat from his brow. He was wearing a thick shirt, telling the others it was meant to keep the bugs off him. It wasn’t doing that at all. Them measly shits bit through anything.

  Kareem stood by the rocks that marked the entrance, hands on hips. The shrimp had given up and retreated first, Irv thought, then told him to call Michelle, have her get back to the limo, and fifteen minutes later, Kareem was tooling that big car up the hill. Irv had warned his driver about the washout before they had started so Kareem had plenty of speed to bounce over the widening rut. Michelle was next to Kareem, and her head banged off the ceiling. She didn’t say a word.

  Sitting in back, Irv starting thinking about Pam. Had Nick buried her already?

  If you have, old buddy, get the shovel out again, and get digging.

  He would make Nick wash the dirt off her face, so it would be clean for the viewing. This would be a proper wake. He couldn’t wait to give her a kiss.

  Michelle and Kareem knew about the after wake festivities.

  39

  I watched as the tires spun hard, spitting out dirt and rock, the motor running high. The vehicle turned into the straightaway before the driveway, gaining more speed. Branches were stuck in the grill and the shiny black hood was covered in leaves. Pam and I had left the cedar gate post open and the limo roared towards the cabin.

  I reached for my .45 and brought Pam down with me, lying flat on the deck.

  "That’s Irv’s," I said.

  "No shit," she said.

  I put my barrel between the railings and aimed at the shadowy figure behind the wheel. Pam fired her .22 first, the windshield cracked right center, and the limo bumped into the rock I had hidden behind yesterday. She sent two more rounds into the glass, and Kareem staggered out, blood pouring from his head. Before Kareem could get his wits and find cover, I sighted on him, and put one clean through his heart. He crumbled from sight.

  "Look there, Nick!" Pam said.

  Michelle and Irv were piling out the left side of the car, scrambling for the protection of the rock. Michelle was shooting with a pistol, though she wasn’t sure where our rounds were coming from, hitting the cabin down by the basement. We fired at her until she kept her head down.

  "Nick!" Irv said from down in the driveway. "Quit shooting at us!"

  "What are you doing here, Irv?" I called out.

  "I came to see Pam one more time. Before you bury her!"

  "I ain’t dead, you idiot!" Pam screamed back.

  I looked at Pam. "Ah, baby, that wasn’t a good idea."

  With the gunfire, the birds had shut their beaks. The only sound came from the limo’s engine.

  "Don’t you hurt her, Nick," Irv’s voice rang out.

  Pam got on her knees to yell. "He’s not going to hurt me, Irv. I’m with him now!"

  Nothing again, Irv letting that one sink in.

  "You were supposed to find her," Irv said. "Not fuck her."

  "Forget it, Irv."

  "Nick and I are in love," Pam said. "So go away! It’s over between you and me."

  "I’m not going anyway," Irv said, "because it isn’t over until I say it’s over."

  "FUCK YOU, IRV MARQUETTE!" Pam said.

  40

  Pam’s words echoed down to Irv, his body hidden behind the rock the limo had run into. His emotions were bounding around his body. He had been getting himself ready to view the corpse, but then she’s alive, only she’s Nick’s lover. How much could a man forgive?

  Everything happening too fast, Irv thought. Calm down. Go back a little bit and think it through, damn it.

  Michelle had just rolled down the partition between the limo’s seats, saying, "The cabin’s up ahead."

  And as Irv leaned forward to see it, the windshield cracked and red spray flew off of Kareem’s head. Michelle was yanking out her gun and the limo bounced to a stop, Irv hitting the seat in front of him. There were two more pops, and Kareem climbed out.

  "We can’t stay in the car, Irv," Michelle was saying, staying calm.

  She was ducking out the driver’s side, firing up the hill, and Irv followed her to safety. They both saw Kareem lying on his back, the side of his head covered in red gook and another splotch of bloody matter in the center of his chest.

  "He’s dead," Michelle said.

 
What the hell was Nick doing shooting at them? Does he know what I’m thinking of doing to him, Irv thought. But how?

  Irv yelled up to the cabin and Nick was acting as surprised as he was.

  But then Irv heard Pam’s voice. His heart skipped so many beats, he lost his breathe.

  What am I going to do? Irv wondered.

  He looked at Michelle. "Try not to shoot her."

  It was the first order Michelle appeared to question, her black eyes squinting.

  "I want her alive,” Irv said. “But blow Nick away."

  4 1

  Pam and I had our guns trained on the rock, but it was too quiet down there. Neither Irv nor Michelle showed themselves.

  "Hey, Nick," Irv said.

  "Come on out of there and fight!" I called.

  "You’re still working for me, Nick. Remember? I have that videotape, and it will be my civic duty to send it in to the police department."

  I fired into the rock. "Stuff the tape, Irv."

  "Thanks, Nick," Pam said.

  "Love ya, baby."

  "Love you, too."

  I turned to her when she spoke and that’s when Michelle made her move, dashing around the other side of the limo and low up the driveway. She passed behind some spruces before I could fire, and as I rotated, my gun following her movement, Irv opened up. He wasn’t much of shot—in hockey or on the practice range—but his fire was designed to distract, and that’s what it did. The big glass window behind us shattered in a shower of sharp chucks and Pam flipped out, howling like a coyote.

  Michelle reached the open space before the side of the cabin. Irv wasn’t slowing down, bullets whacking high above us. I unleashed at Michelle, missing the target, but hitting the stair’s banister and rails. She got behind the cabin without firing a shot or getting a scratch.

  I grabbed Pam by the hand. "We’ve got to go. Michelle’s near the basement and we can’t let her get behind us or we’re goners."

  Pam and I rushed over the broken glass, crouching low into the living room. The door to the cellar was closed, but I could hear footsteps down in the basement.

  "Head for the barn quick," I said. "Hide in the loft. I’ll come for you."

  "I can’t leave you," she said.

  "I’ll be right out. Now go!"

  Several rounds came through the busted window, and Pam went, racing out the sliding door, hitting the lawn like a mare. I was watching her when the living room floor exploded in a storm of lead, crisscrossing lines chewing the room to pieces. Michelle had pulled out a heavy automatic weapon and was firing up through the basement ceiling. Had to be a machine gun. Stuffing from the recliner and sofa drifted in the air. Woodchips from the pitched roof and chunks of metal from the kitchen appliances flew around as effective as shrapnel.

  I had wanted to stay in the cabin and fight it out, hoping to give Pam the opportunity to reach the barn. But what chance did a .45 have against something spitting a hundred rounds a second? Not much at all.

  Irv would be heading for the front door by now, supporting Michelle, who was reloading. I could hear the clip drop on the cement floor and a new one being slammed in. I would be cut to pieces soon if I didn’t move fast. I ran down the hall and the sound gave Michelle a target. The bullet trail tore in behind me, Michelle firing just behind my steps.

  I ducked into the bathroom as the holes in the planking rippled past. I stepped onto the toilet as more rounds crashed through, ricocheting off the sink, whizzing inches from my head. Pipes burst, soaking me to the bone.

  I saw where I had to be—the tub. I got down low beneath the sides as bullets crashed into the cast iron frame. The tub shook, but didn’t pierce. The toilet cracked apart in cleaves. The sink and mirror fell from the wall.

  Michelle started working on the adjoining bedroom, ripping it apart. The hail went on, room by room, Michelle pausing only to pump more ammo into the gun.

  "I’m coming in!" Irv yelled from near the deck. "Hold off!"

  "Right!" Michelle said.

  Steps came up the stairs and feet crunched on glass. They met in the living room.

  "Fuck me," Irv said. "Look at this place. Where’s Pam?"

  Michelle said, "I saw her running towards the barn."

  "What about Nick?" Irv asked.

  "There’s blood all over here," Michelle said. "Nick, I don’t know how he could survived all this."

  "I’ll get Pam," Irv said. "You check for his body."

  Pam’s stitching had given up and torn open. My shoulder was bleeding on both sides, forming a stream, running for the drain. It still didn’t hurt, but I figured the spilled blood would lead Michelle right to me. I raised my gun up, my head and arm showing above my metal coffin.

  The bathroom door hung half closed, its top half blown clean off. Water ran into the hallway. Michelle approached, her footsteps couldn’t miss the debris scattered on the floor. Her gun burst out a spray—at what I didn’t know. She came closer.

  What would she do? Knock the door open and paint the room with bullets? If she was ex-military, that would be the way she was trained to handle it. The wall thudded, her body thrown against it. She was right outside the bathroom. I thought about firing through the plasterboard, but if I missed her, she wouldn’t return the favor.

  A quick foot kicked low at the door. It swung open, banged into the closet door, and closed again. Another kick followed—this time the door stayed opened.

  Would she step in high or low? Just the barrel came around the corner. I ducked just as it spit a fiery hail, metal pounding into the tub, and bouncing in every direction, my foot skinned and my back pricked.

  The rain of lead stopped.

  Hunkered down, I heard a crash outside the door. What was that from?

  I didn’t move.

  Michelle didn’t fire again. Just the sound of water pissing out everywhere. I thought about Pam alone in the barn. I couldn’t help her if I did anything stupid—like peer over the thing that had saved my life. Wait it out for a little bit, Nick.

  Van Gogh meowed. My damn cat was in the hall. What was he doing out there? Wasn’t he terrified of all the shooting?

  He squawked again, louder this time. But Michelle wasn’t making a peep. I heard Van Gogh licking at the spilled water.

  I couldn’t stay down any longer. I jumped up, my finger on the trigger. I almost shot Michelle—but I didn’t need to. Some of her body was in the doorway, face up, a red smear under the left eye, still open, but very dark in death. Not only had the tub saved me, it had acted like a weapon, rebounding bullets. Right back at you, bitch. Van Gogh was leaning next to Michelle’s arm. He squinted like a flirt and then went back to quenching his thirst, the water stained red with blood.

  I checked for a pulse along Michelle’s jawbone. Nothing doing. Good. I hadn’t wanted to shoot her—Irv might be able to tell from a gun’s report that I was still alive.

  I went over to the sliding door, stepping around what was left of the appliances, chairs, and the dining table. Irv was outside the barn near the open door. Before I could fire at him, he got inside.

  I couldn’t run across the grass. I’d be too easy a mark if Irv turned around. I dashed for the woods, hoping Irv didn’t look out and spot me doing that. I made the trees and moved along their periphery, making a helluva racket running through the trees. I kept my eyes and .45 focused on the barn.

  I came around to the back of the building, and stepped out of the evergreens. The rear doors were cracked a bit and I squeezed through the opening. The station wagon filled the center of the barn, cutting down my line of sight.

  The wood flooring above and to my left squeaked. Heavy steps—like Irv’s. I couldn’t fire up their without worrying I’d hit Pam. And I didn’t want Irv to know I was in the barn. Let him think I was dead in the cabin.

  Irv moved away, heading to the far side of the loft. I used his movement to mask mine, getting by the rear bumper of Eddie’s car, straddling the hitch. Looking around the wagon, I saw Irv com
ing down the ladder, covering himself with his long barreled handgun. I could of had him, but he jumped from the last few rungs, landing behind the wagon’s hood. From there he walked towards the front doors.

  I got down low and crawled around the wagon, coming up over the side of the car, leaning on the hood. Irv’s back was to me. He was looking in a horse stall.

  "Irv!" Pam yelled.

  She stood outside of the barn. He twisted at the hips, facing her.

  "Pam," he said. "I love..."

  She didn’t let Irv finish, two shots knocked him down, the bullets thumping into his chest, his gun dropping away.

  I walked around the hood. Irv was lying on his side, his face buried in a pile of hay. Pam stood next to me, her eyes wide and empty. I put my arm around her waist and pulled her away, the pain in my shoulder reaching up to my brain.

  "You okay, baby?" I said.

  "I killed him, didn’t I?"

  "It’s over now."

  She looked into my eyes. "No, it isn’t."

  "Don’t worry about nothing, baby," I said.

  But could we put all the lies and death behind us with just a few simple words? I hoped so.

  "There’s one more thing to do, Nick," she said.

  "Yeah, what’s that?"

  "Let’s go get that tape out of Irv’s safe."

  Pam taped a couple more bandages onto my shoulder, commenting on how bad the wound looked. I slugged a quick beer for pain relief while searching for Van Gogh. Pam found him sniffing around the carnage in the living room. I picked up the cat—he started purring right off and put him in his carrier, which had a couple more air holes courtesy of Michelle’s shooting.