by Jim Craig
I crouched in the stairwell and listened to Brandy’s feet climbing the metal stairs above me. Then they were gone. The engine room must have been nearby. I could feel the vibration underneath me and I even thought I could hear the big diesel engines throbbing one floor below. I crawled up the stairs to the next level, the one I remembered as the vehicle deck. There was a round glass window in a closed door, but all I could see through it was a dimly lit area that looked like a parking garage.
I thought I was going to have to pick another lock, but as I leaned against the door I felt it give. It wasn’t locked. I pushed it open just a couple of inches and got down on my knees to peek around the corner into the car deck. Nothing moved. No sound either.
Then I heard noises from behind me and above. Heavy clumping footsteps were coming down the metal grate stairs. Brandy must have gotten somebody’s attention. It was too late to get up and get back to the supply room. Before I could move the footsteps came on fast.
I looked up to see who it was, but all I could see was a handgun pointed at my face. A voice called out.
“Freeze, motherfucker.” It was Darrell, his round face red and puffy. He sounded like he’d watched too many Wildest Police Videos.
I was really starting to dislike that guy.
“What the hell are you doing out here? Who let you go?”
My sleeves had fallen down over my hands. I raised them in front of me and flapped the phony stumps at him. With an anguished cry, I moaned, “The rats, the rats! They chewed off my hands!”
At first he recoiled in horror. Then his eyes narrowed and he looked at me skeptically. Reaching forward with one hand he pulled one of the sleeves down.
“Okay, funny man,” he said in a growl and reassumed his shooter’s stance. “Put your hands behind your back. You and your psycho partner are under arrest.”
“Aw, Darrell, heck, you got me, man.” I slowly raised my hands but leaned slightly against the door.
“Don’t do that,” he ordered. “The guy said if anyone came in, he’d …”
I shoved hard and dove missing the last part of his speech. I never was any good at taking orders. I landed hard and tumbled down a flight of five metal stairs on my belly. The door swung itself shut behind me.
In a different frame of mind, I might have regretted that decision. But I was in GO mode. I would not be stopped. Besides, overinflated humps like Darrell always made me want to do the exact opposite of whatever they ordered.
It’s been a long standing issue for me. A child psychiatrist once called it “oppositional defiant disorder.” Some shit like that. They say it’s usually self destructive. And childish too, I suppose. Whatever.
When I hit the bottom of the stairs, I found myself in another world. The car deck was a dimly lit underground structure with a high ceiling and rows of parking spaces filled with all kinds of vehicles. Even some campers.
Laying on my face on the concrete next to a truck, I took a moment to look around and listen. I was a little banged up but I didn’t care. All I could feel was the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I was staring underneath a red pickup with running boards and chrome exhaust pipes. In the distance I heard a loud thunk. A metal against metal sound and then an echoing boom. I got up to my knees and shuffled to the edge of the pickup to peer around the front tire. I still couldn’t see anything.
Then I heard the sound again. Definitely metal on metal and not like machinery. The place smelled like most car garages do. Rubber and engine smells. Oil and gasoline, wet pavement, road dirt, exhaust fumes.
I moved to the other end of the pickup against the wall and crept in the direction of the sound. The odor of gasoline grew stronger. A lot stronger. The pavement was wet too. I reached down and touched the floor with one hand. Even before I brought my fingers to my nose, I knew what it was.
Gasoline was spreading across the deck of the parking area. I duck walked around another car and looked underneath. A stream of gas was dribbling from the fuel tank. I leaned in for a closer look. There was a punctured hole in the gas tank near the rear bumper. It looked like a stab wound.
I thought instantly about Charlie’s Ka-bar. The combat knife he wore on his belt would make that kind of hole.
Holy shit. Gasoline was everywhere. Standing up enough to look over a car hood, I saw Charlie at the far wall. Toward the stern of the ferry he was walking from one vehicle to another. I watched him bend over a light green Honda four door and thrust something underneath.
Thunk. The big knife punctured another tank. Then I saw him dance backward like he was trying to avoid the rush of fuel that jumped for his feet.
I retreated for the car behind me. I was trying to stay out of the spreading pool of fuel, but my boots were soaking in it. The fumes stung my eyes.
I looked to the stairs and doorway. Ten easy leaping strides and I could be out of there. I thought about it. But then what? This mad man was building a bomb right below two hundred innocent people. Sitting up there in the sunshine, they didn’t suspect a thing.
Staying with the cars didn’t seem like a good idea. But running away seemed worse. Not to mention the fact that I knew the mad man by his first name. And he knew mine.
Another thunk rang out down the line of vehicles. I sneaked another look toward Charlie and watched as he pushed over a motorcycle sending gas splashing from its open tank.
The vehicle behind me was a four wheel drive Toyota pickup with a camper shell on its back. A length of rope was hanging out of the back of the shell. I wouldn’t have given it a second look, but it moved. Not from wind either. There wasn’t any wind in the dark cavern.
Then I heard a noise from inside the truck bed. A shuffling sound and a grunt. The rope danced at the same time.
I had to look. I worked my way around to the other side of the pickup to keep it between me and Charlie. Then I cupped my hands against a side window and looked in. It was dark inside the truck bed but enough light filtered through the darkened sunglass that I could see a figure tied hand and foot laying in the back of the truck. The figure had a blond pony tail that thrashed from side to side as it struggled.
It was Rainey. She didn’t see me, and I wasn’t about to make any noise to attract her attention. There was duct tape wrapped around her head covering her mouth, and the rest of her face was contorted in pain as I watched her straining to untie herself.
I moved to the rear of the truck and peered carefully around the corner toward Charlie. He had his back to me while he struggled to tip over another motorcycle. I lifted the rear window of the camper shell above the tailgate, crawled onto the bumper and dove in pulling the window closed behind me. The spring loaded hinge knocked me over on top of Rainey pushing my cap down over my face.
One of my elbows must have landed in the middle of her solar plexus. I heard the whoosh of air escape her lungs, and I raised up to see if she was okay. My face was only two inches from hers. Her eyes were half crossed and looked like they might roll back in her head.
“Hey, hey, Rainey,” I whispered as loud as I dared. “Don’t flake out on me.”
Then I heard her take a breath. The oxygen must have done her some good. Her eyes began to clear. I waited for her to get her senses back.
They say that tension, panic and stress can lead to strange thoughts. It was bad timing and way out of place, but I couldn’t help noticing that I was in a really interesting position. Lying on top of Rainey and feeling her warm softness beneath me made my mind go places that were definitely inappropriate.
I almost started to grin at the irony. Here we were about to be blown to pieces and I was having erotic thoughts. My close friend was bound and gagged underneath me. My very attractive and curvaceous close friend. And she was completely helpless. Unconscious and unaware of my restless thoughts.
I was shocked at myself. Absolutely shocked. Sort of. I was about to apologize for all of the above, but she didn’t give me th
e chance.
Her eyes flashed open, her body went rigid and her knees came up in a reaction so fast, all thoughts of apology vanished. My entire manly bulk of a hundred and fifty pounds was propelled over her head and slammed into the opposite wall of the camper.
Then it was my turn to go cross eyed and glassy. Flames of agony sprang from the place where no man wants flames. The pain took my breath away. Stars danced drunkenly in a black sky filled with northern lights. Blue lightning flickered in wicked pulses.
Rainey was thrashing wildly at the ropes trying to get away from me. Somehow she spun herself around and was about to pulverize me again with her powerful legs. Then she stopped. In spite of my gritting teeth, closed eyes and both hands clutching my crotch, somehow she realized who I was. She struggled to sit up and stared at me in mute astonishment.
I fought to remain conscious and slowly my eyes uncrossed and focused again. Rainey’s face above the strips of duct tape made her look like some kind of a strange Egyptian belly dancer wearing a gray veil. Her blue eyes bulged huge and full of anguish, tears and fear. Strands of tangled blond hair fell all around her face. She tried to say something, but her lips couldn’t move behind the tape. All she could manage was a strangling whimper.
I finally managed to get some air back in my lungs, and gradually the pain began to subside enough to where I could speak.
“Damn, Rainey, you’re a fun date,” I groaned, still bent over double. She hung her head in mime-like sorrow, but only for a second.
Then she kicked at my shins with her tied together feet. Still massaging my hurting place I looked at her sharply. The last thing I needed at the moment was another kick. Her eyes were on fire. She jerked her chin at me to hurry up, grumbling behind the tape.
“Okay, okay, give a guy a break, will ya?” I took a deep breath and winced at the shots of pain radiating from deep inside my crotch. I moved toward Rainey and reached for her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I mumbled at her as I pulled at the duct tape.
I saw her wince and grimace with my clumsy efforts. I knew I was pulling hair out by the roots, but it couldn’t be helped. Tears ran from her eyes, but finally I got her lips free enough that she could speak. Instead she gasped and wheezed.
“We’ve got to get out of here, Rainey. That guy is filling the place with gasoline. Are you okay? Did he, did he … hurt you?”
“No, I’m okay,” she answered panting and sucking in deep breaths of air. “I thought I was going to suffocate with that tape over my mouth,” she muttered between gulps.
“Security is right outside the door. What happened?”
She told me about Charlie grabbing her and putting a gun in her back. When they got to the vehicle deck, he’d taken her keys and her radio and tied her up in the back of the pickup.
“He called up to the bridge and told them that if anyone came into the vehicle deck, he’d kill me. Where is he?”
“He's nearby. We've got to move fast.”
“Wait, there's something else. I heard a woman come back on the radio. She wasn't part of the crew, I'm sure of that.”
I thought about that as I worked on the ropes holding Rainey's hands. I leaned over and tried to see where Charlie was through the tinted glass, but I couldn't see him anywhere.
When Rainey’s hands were free, she went to work on the ropes holding her feet.
“Hold still and let me get this tape off,” I said. “Do this.” I tilted my head back and stretched my neck up and away from her. The tape was still wrapped tight around her chin and neck like a ugly gray necklace tangled in strands of blond hair.
I pulled at a corner of tape where it was wrapped around her head. I tried to hold her hair with one hand while I pulled at the tape with the other. I felt her jerk with every hunk of hair that the tape took with it.
“Sorry,” I whispered over and over as I worked. She ignored me and kept working at the knots around her feet. When I finally pulled the last part of the tape away from the flesh of her neck, she winced and yelped.
“Ow! Damn it! That’s the only face I’ve got,” she shoved at me with an elbow.
“Oh, stifle yourself,” I said. “I need some kind of revenge. You damn near killed me with your knee.”
“Shut up, idiot. What the hell do we do now?” Her feet were free, and she was blinking at the gas fumes. She wanted out.
I crawled forward and jimmied the window that separated the camper shell from the cabin of the truck.
“Climb through there. He’ll spot us if we open the back window.”
She didn’t need any further instructions. Clambering forward she stuck her head through the opening while I peeked through the windows trying to see where Charlie was. I didn’t see him, so I opened the back window of the shell just an inch so I could listen. The smell of gasoline almost took my breath away.
Blinking my eyes at the irritation I couldn’t see much. Then I spotted him several vehicles away. I turned and crawled to the front of the truck bed. Rainey was sitting in the driver’s seat looking at me with big eyes.
Drawing close to the window between us, I pointed past her to the stairs.
“Open the door as quiet as you can, then get up those stairs and out. It’s not locked.”
She was moving to go, but then she turned back. “What about you?”
I paused a moment. Good question, I thought. I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t think explaining it to Rainey was a good idea. Besides, there was no time for an argument.
“I’ll be right behind you,” I lied. “Now go.”
She nodded and with tiny movements she unlatched the side door and let herself out. Leaving the door ajar for me, she crouched behind the side of the pickup and peered toward the stern of the vehicle bay. I stuck my head through the opening into the cab and looked around. I didn’t see Charlie, so I turned back to Rainey.
“Go now, go!” I urged in a whisper and pretended to start crawling through the opening.
She turned and still bent over tiptoed across the wet deck to the stairs. Then she leaped two at a time and disappeared through the doorway. The heavy metal door banged shut with a loud clang.
“Hey!” I heard a loud shout behind me. Charlie ran along the wall at the front of the vehicles parked there. First he was looking toward the stairs and the door at the top of the landing, then he stopped in front of the pickup when he noticed its half open front door.
I ducked out of sight and tried to hide against the side wall of the truck bed making myself as small as possible. I could feel him inches away from me with on the other side of the camper shell moving slowly past. I squeezed my eyes shut in traditional ostrich fashion.
Several moments went by, and I dared to open my eyes again thinking he had moved away. I shifted myself to crawl through the cab window again, but then a big shadow darkened the window at the back corner of the shell. Charlie's face pressed against the glass as he tried to see inside. His bulk blocked out the light, but I could see his glasses reflecting what little light there was. Behind the thick lenses his eyes were wild, the whites and pupils rattling back and forth like crickets on a hot plate.
I think I stopped breathing at the sight of him. I tried to will myself invisible but it didn't work.
The rear window swung up with a swoosh and I was staring into Charlie’s face. His teeth were bared and he hissed as he breathed through clenched teeth glaring down at me. Sweat and tears ran down his face and dripped from his mustache.
Gasoline fumes swirled around him and filled the camper. I thought I might throw up. Charlie held the Ka-bar in his right hand wrapped in a red bandana. It was dripping with fuel. His left hand held a handgun pointed straight into my face.