“Well hello, pretty lady. Need a room?”
“No, actually, I was looking for a friend. I heard he checked in a couple of days ago. His name is Jesse Luna.”
The man looked in an antiquated sign-in register, and ran his finger down the left hand column. Twice.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I have a John Luna.”
“Sometimes he goes by his middle name, John. Do you remember what he looks like?”
“Sure. He was in this morning, to ask for directions to the McCoy ranch. Tall, skinny as a rail, heavy Spanish accent, bushy mustache. Has a scar above his right eye.”
Red had forgotten about the scar, and was glad the old man was so attentive.
“That’s him, if he had two horses with him.”
“Yep. Sure did. I told him he couldn’t keep them here, on account of we ain’t got no place to put them and they’d stink up the place.”
Red almost pointed out that Luna would stink up the place much more than his horses would, but held her tongue.
But something else couldn’t go unsaid. Or unasked.
“Say, old timer… can I ask you something without you being offended?”
“Young lady, at my age not much of anything offends me. Ask away.”
“How did you, of all people, manage to survive the chaos and the plague, when they took so many strong men and children?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I like to think I was just too damn good lookin’ to die. That maybe God didn’t think it fair to put me in heaven and have all the women up there swoon all over me. Maybe he wants to wait until next year, when I turn 75, and I’m not so handsome anymore.”
“Yes, that’s it. Certainly.”
She winked at him so he’d know she got the joke.
“Of course, there are other possibilities. My wife, before the plague got her, used to tell me that I’d be the last man on earth, because I was too damn ornery to die. I guess the only real answer is that I was luckier than most.”
“Well, I hope your luck holds out, mister. Maybe I’ll come back and visit you on your hundredth birthday.”
“Oh, I hope not. Truth is I don’t like what the world has become. I’m ready to go whenever the good Lord says it’s time. But I can’t do this for another twenty six years. I just can’t.”
“So, where can I find my friend Mr. Luna?”
“He’s in the next building over, in room 12A.”
Red looked both ways when she walked out the door. The last thing she wanted or needed was for Luna to get the drop on her. There was a very good chance he’d talked to the boy and knew she was in town. And if that was the case, he’d not only be on his toes, but he’d be watching out for her.
And even when most of her hair was tucked under her Stetson, a red-headed woman in a city of mostly men was still easy to spot.
The coast was clear and she walked to the next building and rapped on the door of 12A.
If someone answered it who wasn’t Jesse Luna, she’d merely apologize and claim she knocked on the wrong door. If Luna opened it herself she’d draw down on him and push him back into the room where they could talk in private. She unlatched her sidearm, just in case.
But the third option, the one she expected, was the one which played out.
There was no answer at the door. Not after the first knock, or the second, or the third.
She went around to the back of the single story apartment and removed one of the window screens.
The window behind it was locked.
“Damn it!”
She did the same thing to the next one and had better success.
The window slid open easily.
In seconds she was in the apartment and making her way to the living room.
It was stifling.
She wondered why Luna didn’t open the windows to let some air in. It wasn’t as though there was anything worth stealing. The apartment turned hotel room was certainly nothing to brag about. The furniture was standard fare. There were precious few other items worth taking. It had a nice TV, but it didn’t do much good without electricity. And anybody wanting a TV could just walk into the huge box store a couple of doors down and take as many brand new ones as he wanted. What he’d use them for would be anybody’s guess. But they were there for the taking.
She thought about opening up the windows to let some fresh air in, but didn’t want to give herself away. So instead she waited patiently, watching from between the blinds in the front room, for Luna to come back from wherever he went.
She didn’t have to wait long.
An hour later she saw a lanky figure, dressed completely in black, with a familiar walk. The man was coming from the general direction where the boy was watching the horses, and was heading directly toward her.
The walk was unmistakable. So was his face as he drew nearer.
She’d found him. She’d found Jesse Luna.
In his left hand he carried something in a brown paper bag. Whisky, she surmised. In his right hand he fumbled with the key. He dropped it once, then cursed. When he dropped it the second time, Red knew he was drunk.
That was too bad. She needed him sober. A drunkard will lie through his teeth to get himself out of trouble. Sometimes he’s so confused he won’t even know he’s lying. And that makes it hard for someone to catch him in a lie. There are none of the usual verbal or physical cues that indicate when he’s being untruthful.
Someone who’s sober and tells a lie, though, almost always displays some type of clue that indicates he’s being deceitful. A yawn. Twitching fingers. Feet that can’t keep still.
No, she needed to put him on ice until he sobered up, so that she knew the answers he gave her were truthful and complete.
He needed to take a nap.
And Red could certainly help him.
After thirty seconds, Luna finally got his key in the lock and opened the door.
He stepped into the room, reaching for the light switch to turn on the lights. Even a year after the blackout, old habits died hard.
He never saw Red behind the door. Never saw the butt of Red’s handgun as it came down hard on the back of his head.
He crumpled to the floor, and Red stood over him, seething in hatred for the man.
“Nighty night, you bastard.”
I hope you enjoyed
RED, Book 2:
Too Tough To Tame
Here’s a preview of the next installment of the series,
RED, Book 3:
A Lesson Learned
Luna woke up stripped down to his underwear and unable to move, but he couldn’t figure out why. His head was a fog even before Red knocked him cold, because of the six shots of whisky he’d had at the bar down the street.
Now it was very much worse, for in addition to his stupor he had a pounding headache. The back of his scalp screamed in pain. And it felt sticky for some reason.
He was much too out of it to figure out what was going on. And he couldn’t ask the shadowy figure, standing in the darkness of the corner of the room watching him. The three layers of duct tape wrapped completely around his head and over his mouth made sure of that.
He whimpered and squirmed a little bit, but was unable to do any more than that.
Red walked nonchalantly over to the center of the room, to a small table on which an unlit oil lamp was sitting. She picked up a box of wooden kitchen matches from the table next to it and lit the lantern.
Several things happened almost simultaneously.
The room was instantly bathed in a soft yellow glow.
The glazed look in Luna’s eyes was replaced by one of terror, when he recognized the shadowy figure as Red.
And Red smiled.
She thought the look of terror suited him well.
Luna looked to his right, and then his left. Red had found enough rope to cut into two twelve foot pieces. She ran both of them beneath the mattress on the bed, one at the head and the other at the foot. Protruding from the right side of the ma
ttress were two sections of rope, each about three feet long. The left side had two similar ropes.
They were perfect for tying him down at the wrists and feet.
Through the foggy and confused state his mind was in he realized he was totally at Red’s mercy.
And she didn’t look very sociable.
“Hello, Mr. Luna.”
His eyes grew and he struggled to get loose.
Red watched him, slightly amused.
She reached into her back pocket and took out a Waverly folding knife, with a polished oak handle and a six inch blade.
Luna’s eyes widened even more.
She opened the knife, and a bead of sweat suddenly appeared on the man’s forehead.
He furiously shook his head back and forth, silently pleading for his life.
Red placed the blade against the side of his neck, and pressed it hard against his jugular vein.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t even twitch. I keep this thing as sharp as a razor blade, and it would be very unfortunate if we were to have a little accident.”
He started to sweat profusely, but grew still.
She moved the blade to the side of his face and used it to slice through the duct tape.
“Now then, Mr. Luna. What happens next is totally up to you. If you yell for help or scream like a little girl, I will cut your throat from ear to ear and watch as you bleed out onto this flea-infested bed of yours. Or you can keep your cool and we can have a nice little discussion. Your choice. Makes no difference to me at all.”
Then she lifted the cut end of the duct tape and ripped it over his face, taking a good part of his mustache with it and causing him to shriek in pain.
But to his credit, he didn’t call for help.
“Now then, Mr. Luna. I’ve gone through a lot of trouble finding you, and I’m in absolutely no mood to play games. Do you understand?”
He very vigorously nodded his head yes. Several times.
“Good. Now then. I’m going to ask you a series of questions. I don’t want any hesitation, and won’t tolerate any bullshit from you. Do you understand?”
He managed a weak, “Yes.”
“Did John Savage have anything at all to do with the deaths of my husband and son?”
Luna said nothing. He was afraid to.
Red jabbed the end of the blade a full two inches into Luna’s upper thigh, causing him to wince and make a face so contorted and ugly it was almost comical.
But not to him.
“Yes. Yes he did. He paid… somebody to blow up the house with dynamite.”
They both knew why he blamed the deed on a mysterious “somebody.” But he didn’t know that Red knew who that somebody was. She didn’t call him on it. Not just yet.
“Was I supposed to die too?”
The pain in his thigh, the knife still embedded in it, caused him even more pain than the wound on the back of his head.
But he still didn’t want to tell her any more. So like an idiot, he hesitated again.
Red twisted the knife a full ninety degrees.
And he decided he couldn’t talk fast enough.
“Yes. Yes. You were supposed to die too, but you walked outside just before the blast went off.”
“And my father. Was Savage responsible for his death too?”
“Yes! Savage paid the same killer to give your father something to induce a heart attack.”
“And this killer. The one Savage paid. Who was he, exactly?”
“His name is Sloan. Ed Sloan. He’s still in Blanco, waiting for orders from Savage to kill some more.”
Red knew he was lying. She knew it was he and not Sloan who murdered everyone she loved. She could see it in his eyes.
And he, looking in her eyes, realized for the first time that she knew.
“What are you going to do to me?”
She removed the knife from his leg, wiped both sides of the blade against the bed sheet, and refolded it.
“I’m afraid I’ve already done it, Mr. Luna. I know you can’t see it, but your leg is bleeding profusely all over the bed. I’m afraid I accidentally nicked your femoral artery. I’m sorry.”
Now she was lying as well. Something in her voice told Luna she definitely wasn’t sorry. Not at all.
He raised his head and looked down. He felt faint when he saw bright red blood gushing from the inside of his thigh and pooling between his legs.
“You crazy bitch. I’m going to bleed to death!”
Red remained calm and stood up, returning the folded knife to her back pocket.
“No you won’t, Mr. Luna. I’ll go get a doctor, and he can patch you up. Wouldn’t want you to miss your trial for murder, now would you?”
“Please hurry. I don’t want to die.”
“No, I suppose you don’t. My family didn’t want to die either, by the way.”
Red took her time walking toward the door. In a sadistic way, she enjoyed the look of panic on Luna’s face.
She stepped out into the afternoon sun and closed the door behind her.
Then she walked over to the office, to find the same old man sitting on a lawn chair just outside the office door.
“How come you’re sitting out here, sir?”
“Cooler out here. Hot as hell in there. The one thing I miss more than anything is air conditioning.”
“Yes, sir. I miss it too. Hey, where is the nearest doctor?”
The old codger laughed.
“Hell, we ain’t got no doctors left, as far as I know. The last of ‘em treated the plague patients, then caught the plague themselves. Ain’t no doctor, or nurse either, for at least five miles in any direction.”
Red smiled.
“Pity,” she said, and walked off toward the boy and the horses.
If you enjoyed
RED, Book 2: Too Tough To Tame
You might also enjoy
FINAL DAWN
Available now at
darrellmaloney.com
Amazon.com
and
Barnes and Noble Booksellers.
*************************
What would you do if you finally found the love of your life, and were making plans to spend eternity together - and then found out that eternity was only two years? Mark is a romantic and carefree young engineer, and a bit of a cornball. His beloved Hannah is a beautiful scientist. Pragmatic, intelligent and analytical, she longs for the family she never had, and a change from her horrific childhood. Mark offers that change, and her life is finally complete.
Then Hannah discovers that mankind is doomed. Suddenly their lives become a mad scramble, to find a way to save themselves and everyone they love.
An excerpt from FINAL DAWN:
Sometimes the gods of fate smile upon you, and bestow on you a treasure of such magnitude, such wonder, that you pinch yourself over and over until you finally believe it’s really real.
And sometimes those same gods bestow upon you a bowl of smelly, steaming crap.
They seldom do both within the same week.
Mark Snyder finished the breaker box tie in just before losing his daylight. He’d been working in an empty house for days, all alone in his thoughts. He hated jobs like this. No one to talk to, no other voices to listen to, other than the ones in his head. The house was only about eighty percent complete. Not far enough along yet to have power.
The electricians were supposed to button everything up by the end of the week. And yes, he could have waited until then to start installing the security system. But he had several other jobs going on at once, and he was trying to maintain his good reputation for coming in on time. So while most people would have taken Sunday off to watch the ball game and relax, he was here instead installing security cameras.
He’d come back on Saturday and check all the cameras to make sure they were working, then install the operations console.
But for now, he’d done everything he could do without electricity. He loaded his t
ools back into his Explorer and headed home. Enough is enough.
Mark picked up his cell and called Hannah.
“Hey, Babe. I’m on my way. Is the game still on?”
“Hi, honey,” she said. “No, it’s over, but you’ll be proud of me. I recorded it for you so you can watch it when you get home. The Cowboys lost at the last second when Washington kicked a field goal.”
Mark winced and bit his lip. He resisted the urge to tell her it’s not so much fun watching a close game when you know how it turns out.
Instead, he praised her. Because after all, she was the light of his life and the best thing that ever happened to him.
“Well, thank you, my love.” He said. “Are you trying to out-sweet me again?”
Hannah replied “Nope. Not trying. I won that contest a long time ago. I just wanted to show you how much I love you.”
She went on. “If you want some beer you’ll have to stop and get some. Bryan came by to watch the game with you. I told him you were working and he asked if we had some beer. I told him to check the fridge. He took all we had and left. Said if we weren’t going to watch the game, then we wouldn’t need it. He said he’d take it to someone who had the game on.
“How did you manage to grow up with him without ever killing him?”
Mark laughed. “Because he was the baby of the family and Mom always took his side. If I had killed him she’d have grounded me for at least a week, maybe two. But I thought about it many times.”
He made a mental note to find a way to get back at his brother. And yes, he’d have to stop for beer. The last hour of the job tonight, the only thing that kept him going was the thought of downing a cold Corona or two.
Mark walked into the Exxon convenience store and waved at Joe Kenney, the assistant manager.
Mark shouted across the store as he pulled a six-pack of Corona from the cooler. “Hey, Joe! All that I have are these, to remember you.”
A couple of the other customers gave Mark the strangest look. A “better stay away from this guy” kind of look.
Joe yelled back from behind the counter, where he was inventorying cigarettes. “Jim Croce. Photographs and Memories.”
Too Tough To Tame: Red: Book 2 Page 18