Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1)

by C. Mack Lewis

“I’ll call you when I need you to pick me up,” Bud said.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?” Chip said.

  “Write a book.”

  Grumbling, Chip cleared out and, as Bud waited for Larry to show, Bud checked his messages and was surprised to hear Jack Fox’s voice. Short and simple, Jack said he needed to talk in person. Bud called back, left a message for Jack to meet him at the coffee shop in one hour. He’d have to make sure to end the meeting with Larry within an hour, which wasn’t AA kosher but – it was what it was.

  Larry showed up, his usual hangdog aura percolating with desperation as he described how his wife had threatened him with divorce and he was struggling against picking up the bottle.

  Larry said, “I should have never married her – everyone told me not to – especially mother. But I took one look at those green peep-toe shoes tapping, tapping – I couldn’t see her face – but I could tell she was gorgeous from the way men were looking at her as they passed. The whole train trip, me sitting behind her, I watched everyone’s face as they passed by her – men and women – and before we pulled into Philadelphia, I was in love.”

  Bud sipped his coffee, thinking of Bunnie as Larry’s voice lulled on.

  Larry said, “If she wasn’t cheating on me – ”

  Bud looked up in surprise. “I thought she ended it?”

  “She said they started up again – maybe she’s trying to make me jealous but, as God is my witness…” Larry’s words trailed off ominously.

  Bud gave him a sharp look, “You own a gun?”

  Larry gave a bitter laugh. “I’m not going to kill myself – or anybody else. I’d have to be a real man to do that.”

  Bud shook his head. This was old territory and he was too tired to get lost in Larry’s endless landscape of self-loathing.

  Bud said, “You still going to that therapist?”

  Larry shook his head, glumly. “Deductible started over.”

  Bud drank the last of his coffee, which wasn’t sitting well with the new pills.

  Larry said, “Are you going to the meeting tonight?”

  Bud shook his head. “Unless you need me to go.”

  “No. But – can we hang out – until the meeting?”

  Bud fought the urge to look at his watch. “Sure. I have someone meeting me here. Business. Would you mind…?”

  “I can wait.”

  “It shouldn’t take long.” Bud pressed his hand to his chest that suddenly felt like a mastiff was crouching on it.

  “You don’t look so hot,” Larry said, eyeing Bud.

  Bud struggled to catch his breath. He dug into his pouch that held his medications.

  “Are you all right?” Larry said.

  Bud fumbled through the pouch until he found the right bottle, which he had jokingly drawn a lightning bolt on since it was the one the doctor said would work the fastest. With shaking hands, he slipped the nitro pill under his tongue. Within minutes, he felt the mastiff’s weight easing and he breathed easier.

  Unsure, Larry watched and waited as Bud returned to normal. During the attack, Bud had waved away his offers to drive him to the hospital and, when he felt better, Bud haltingly told Larry about his newly acquired heart issues.

  “Issues?”

  Bud shrugged, made a face.

  After a long silence, Larry said, “I don’t know, Bud. You ever think of retiring?”

  Bud sighed wearily. He felt ancient – like a husk of the man he once was. He wanted nothing more than to go home and climb into bed with Bunnie. He wanted to hear her rattle on about her day so he wouldn’t have to talk or think – he could just lie back and listen to her voice – like a lullaby.

  Larry said, “How ‘bout I drive you home?”

  Bud smiled gratefully and followed him to the door.

  Bud stopped, remembering his meeting with Jack. He looked at his watch and was annoyed to see that the time to meet Jack had passed thirty minutes ago. Bud checked his cell and saw that Jack hadn’t called.

  Larry said, “No show?”

  Bud gave an irritated shrug and they headed out. He sent Chip a text telling him he had a ride home and he was officially off-duty.

  Once home, Bud was met with a stink-eye from Bunnie that would have blistered concrete. He waved away Chip’s concerned inquiries and went to the guest bedroom. He shut the door, kicked off his shoes and climbed in bed fully clothed. He muted his cell and tossed it on the floor and fell into a fitful sleep.

  Bud stood on the deck of an old-fashioned galleon that soared through the sky over Italy. They wouldn’t let him land but he had to get Bunnie to the ground where she would be safe. The buckles kept slipping as he struggled to get her fastened into a safety harness so he could lower her to the fields of Tuscany flowers. Her hair blew over her face so that he didn’t recognize her and his heart froze as he watched her buffeted in the onslaught of vicious winds as he lowered her from the belly of the ship.

  He struggled with the rope, hands blistered and torn, warm blood streaming down the ropes, which ripped from his grasp. He fell back, terrified at what he’d done when a grinning Enid, hair whipping in the wind and strong as an ox with her giant bandaged hands that seemed to have superhuman powers – grasped the ropes and hauled Bunnie back on the ship.

  “She’ll die!” he cried.

  Bunnie sat on the deck, dazed. She was wearing her wedding gown, billowing out like sea foam. Enid pointed over his shoulder. Bud turned and was stupefied to see a mountain growing out of the ocean. The peak of the mountain ripped away as molten lava shot into the atmosphere, followed by flames and billowing black smoke that rolled toward their suddenly tiny and fragile ship.

  From behind him, he heard Enid’s voice. “Mount Vesuvius. It’s the end of the world. We’re going to die.”

  He turned back to her and her bandages were gone. She was wearing a red dress and a bloody bra dangled from her right hand. Dennie Dutter, his neck torn and crusted with blood, sat cheerfully playing cards with Bunnie, who gingerly moved her white dress from the blood running in a gush from his neck.

  Bunnie looked at Bud, smiling. “Go fish.”

  “Go fish?” Bud said, confused.

  The ship was shaking – breaking into bits.

  “Bud!”

  Bud’s eyes flew open. Confused, he stared into Bunnie’s face, which hovered over his.

  Bunnie said, “Did you say go bitch? I know you didn’t tell me to go-bitch!”

  Bud sat up, relief flooding through him. He put his hand to his racing heart and saw Bunnie’s face change to worry.

  Bunnie said, “I knew it! You didn’t take your medication, did you? What am I – your personal ‘go-bitch’ nurse who has to chase you around and shove pills down your gullet because you – ”

  “Bunnie.” He reached for her but she shoved his hand away. She dug into his medication pouch and found the right pills. Bud opened his mouth and she placed a pill on his tongue.

  Bud said, “I had a bad dream.”

  “Go bitch?”

  “Go fish.”

  Bunnie gave him a skeptical look.

  “I almost got you to safety, then I didn’t.” Bud wrinkled his brow, seeing Enid in her red dress as clear as if she was standing in the room. “Someone helped me save you – then – none of us were saved.”

  “How’d we bite it?”

  “Mount Vesuvius.”

  “Italy? Were we retired?”

  Bud laughed, wiped his sweaty brow. He gazed at her, visualizing her in her wedding gown. After a moment, he nodded to the medication pouch. “Thanks.”

  “Well, somebody’s got to save somebody around here. Sure as hell doesn’t sound like it’s going to be me.”

  As she turned to leave, Bud reached out, took her hand. “Stay.”

  She hesitated, gently disentangled her hand from his. “Like you said: go bitch.”

  Bud watched her leave with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn’t want to be alone. He thought abou
t the dream and, as he slipped back to sleep, he had the vague notion that Enid was there, somewhere around the next corner.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me.

  –Anne Boleyn

  Enid woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly refreshed – considering she’d slept on the floor in Ernie’s treehouse and spent most of her night dreaming that she was being chased by faceless bad guys. She pushed back Ernie’s sleeping bag and sat up, stretching. She peered into the backyard but there was no sign of Ernie. Stomach growling, she reached for what was left of their food.

  She ate the last of the Oreos as she examined her hands. They looked better and hurt less but she still couldn’t bend them enough to make a fist.

  Ernie’s head stuck up from the entrance hole in the floor. “Are you decent?”

  She mock-kicked him with her foot, “What if I wasn’t, you little perve?”

  He clambered into the treehouse. “What am I supposed to do – knock like a visitor when it’s my treehouse?

  Enid gave a grudging shrug. “Well, next time, make some noise when you come out the back door so I can hear you coming.” Enid popped the last of the last Oreo into her mouth.

  Ernie said, “Do you think I’m handsome?”

  Enid made a face. “Don’t be creepy. I’m in love.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, doll face. I’m asking hypothetically.”

  Enid said, “What grade you in?”

  “I tested at the ninth-grade level.”

  “How come you always talk like you ate a dictionary?”

  “You should take a nibble sometime, might do you some good.”

  “I’m plenty smart,” Enid said.

  Ernie shrugged, “Just sayin’. Not too ‘plenty’ impressed with the vocabulary level.”

  Enid scowled at him.

  Ernie said, “How long are you going to hide from Uncle Jack? Mom is asking me about the missing food and I don’t know how long I can keep up the charade,” Ernie said, pronouncing “charade” like “sherr-odd”.

  Enid said, “I’ve recently discovered that your gross Uncle Jack is not my real father.”

  “Yeah, right. How many guys did your mom sleep with anyway?”

  “More than you’re going to sleep with.”

  “I don’t sleep with guys,” Ernie said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Ernie said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know. Are you sure you’re not living a – ‘sherr-odd’?”

  “Ernie?” Cheryl’s voice said from below.

  They froze.

  “Ernie?” Cheryl said.

  “Yeah?” Ernie called back, not daring to look through the door.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Ernie scrambled to the hole in the floor and stuck his head down. “Jeez, mom. Can’t a guy rehearse for the school play without getting the third degree?”

  “What play are you rehearsing for?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what’s the play called? I’m hearing things like – ”

  “Were you listening?” Ernie said.

  “I’m your mother – I’m allowed to listen. What’s this stuff about – sleeping with – guys?”

  “Mother! If you must know, it’s a comedy about a guy who – thinks he’s a girl – who is – confused – because he got hit on the head – with a shoe.”

  Cheryl was silent for a moment. “I’m calling your father.”

  Ernie scrambled out of the tree, chasing his mom into the kitchen.

  Twenty minutes later, Enid spotted Ernie on the side of the house, motioning for her to join him. Making sure the coast was clear, Enid climbed out of the tree and headed for the garage.

  Ernie said, “She banned me from going in the treehouse till dad gets home and can have a ‘discussion’ with me. Thanks a bunch for nothing. Mom thinks I think I’m a girl who wants to sleep with guys and I’m living a charade. I don’t know whether I’m more offended that she thinks I’m a girl who wants to sleep with guys or that I don’t know how to pronounce charade, which, by the way, is how the British pronounce it, so that’s the correct way because they had the language before we got hold of it.”

  “I need your help.”

  “There are no more Oreos, so don’t even try. And, by the way, you could have saved some for me.”

  “I need to get across town,” Enid said.

  “Why?”

  “To get a gun.”

  Ernie eyed her suspiciously. “What gun?”

  “My gun.”

  “Why’s it across town?”

  “I left it at a friend’s house.”

  “You just got here. You don’t have any friends.”

  “I have one friend.”

  “The guy you’re in love with?”

  “Him too.”

  “Him too, what? Him too, he’s your friend or him too, he’s got your gun?”

  “Him too, he’s my friend.”

  “Then who’s got your gun?”

  “Her name’s Jeni. She’s a stripper.”

  Ernie gazed at her for a long moment. “We need to get your gun.”

  Ernie decided the best way to get there was to bike the seven sweaty miles of Phoenix streets, bike-blind drivers, and a one-eyed bulldog that chased them two city blocks. Before they left, Ernie swiped oven mitts from the kitchen for Enid to wear so her hands wouldn’t hurt. On Bethany and 19th Avenue, a cowboy in a beat-up Ford yelled out the window, “Not used to the Phoenix heat?”

  Enid comforted herself with the thought that, at the very least, Chip would never see her sweating like a dog and biking around Phoenix wearing oven mitts decorated with hearts and hot chilies.

  Once on Jeni’s street, Enid tried to get Ernie to wait for her down the street, but she soon realized that he wasn’t about to miss his one chance to meet a stripper. Walking up to the apartment, she saw Mrs. Lopez move the curtains aside. Enid waved hello and the curtain dropped back in place.

  Enid knocked but there was no answer. She put her ear to the door and listened.

  Silence.

  Ernie said, “You should have called.”

  Enid eyed the broken window that Jeni’s ex-boyfriend had tried to climb through. It was covered with cardboard. She poked it and one corner came loose.

  Ernie backed up. “Are you crazy? My dad is a cop. I’m not breaking and entering.”

  “Then don’t,” Enid said.

  “Do you have any idea what they do to cops’ kids in Juvie? I’m going to the Circle K down the street. Whatever you do, I don’t want to know. But I highly recommend against breaking and entering.” Ernie grabbed his bike and rode off.

  Enid hid her bike behind some trash cans. She looked at Mrs. Lopez’s window and noticed the curtain was hanging straight. Using the oven mitt, she stuck her arm through Jeni’s broken window blocked with cardboard and unlocked the door.

  Heart pounding, she slipped into the apartment, locking the door behind her. She headed for the kitchen and filled a glass with tap water and guzzled it. She opened the freezer and grabbed the ice cream box, smiling with relief when she saw the gun.

  That’s the nice thing about skinny girls – they don’t eat ice cream.

  The gun was frozen in the ice cream so she put the box in the sink and ran hot water over it in. While she was waiting for it to thaw, she went to the bathroom.

  The front door slammed.

  Enid went rigid with fear at the sound of Jeni’s heels clomping around the living room as she tried to quiet Faith’s crying.

  Horrified, Enid jumped up, her brain scrabbling through any excuses she could offer for breaking in. She got in the shower and pressed her ear to the wall.

  Loud music blared and she almost fell backwards. The stereo on the other side of the wall banged out a thumping beat. Enid locked the bathroom door, hoping to buy some time and
come up with a plan. She quietly turned on the water and washed her hands.

  Maybe I can just go out there and be, like, all surprised because…

  She stared at herself in the mirror and pretended like she was explaining herself to Jeni, silently laughing and acting like it was this funny thing – that’s it! I’ll tell her I had to go to the bathroom so bad that I broke in. I’ll tell her I came to see her and – I drank way too much water and…

  What about the gun?

  By now, Jeni had heard the running water in the kitchen and…

  But the music is too loud – maybe she hadn’t heard it yet.

  Enid heard bumping – thudding – over the blare of the music. She stepped into the shower and pressed her ear against the wall. All she could hear was the THUD, THUD of the music. She went back to the mirror and stared at her pale face, trying to get the backbone she needed to walk out there and explain the situation. After a long time, she took a shaky breath and unlocked the bathroom door.

  Enid put what amounted to a silly apologetic smile on her face as she walked into the living room.

  It was empty.

  She turned the stereo down and headed toward the kitchen where Faith was bawling.

  “Jeni?”

  Enid stopped, her blood running cold with terror.

  Jeni lay sprawled on the kitchen floor covered in blood. Enid staggered backwards, trying to scream for help but nothing came out. She hurled herself towards the front door, knocking over everything in her way.

  Enid ran headlong into Jack, which sent her sprawling backwards into the apartment. She landed on her back, the air knocked out of her with a sickening jolt. She crawled to her feet and got a glimpse of the bloody handprint she left on the floor.

  Jack shoved past her and was in the kitchen. She could see him – his fingers pressed to Jeni’s throat, looking for a pulse.

  Their eyes met.

  He thinks I did it!

  Enid jumped to her feet and ran.

  She ran and ran until her lungs burned and her legs gave out. She collapsed on the ground in someone’s front yard and burst into tears.

  Jeni was dead – and she was there when Jeni got dead. They would think she did it. Why wouldn’t they? She’d go to jail for the rest of her life. She crawled behind a parked car in the driveway and puked until she got dizzy and passed out.