Storm Surge

by Rhoades, J. D.

  Mercer hesitated. “Motherfucker pulled a gun on me, Sharon,” he said. “And Glory.”

  “He made a mistake,” Sharon said. “He didn’t know. Kyle. Kyle, listen to me.”

  “He was going to shoot Glory. Or you.”

  “No, Kyle, no he wasn’t. He was just confused. And Glory was being stupid. Glory, put the gun down.” She could hear Glory weeping with fear behind her, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off Mercer.

  “Better do what your mom says, kiddo,” Mercer said. Glory’s sobbing redoubled, but Sharon heard the soft impact of the gun landing on the mattress. Sharon kept her eyes focused on Mercer. “Kyle, look at me.”

  “Best not,” Mercer said. “Our friend here’s full of surprises.”

  “Then listen to me,” she said. “Hear my voice. Kyle, he doesn’t need killing.”

  He did turn to look at her then. His eyes were cold, arctic blue. She almost stepped back from the menace in them, but she forced herself to stay steady. She couldn’t stop, however, from flinching ever so slightly. Subtle as it was, he caught it, and she was startled again to see his eyes change. There was determination there, but in his eyes she saw a terrible grief. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. He didn’t answer, but walked over to the bed and picked up the shotgun. He had to brush by her to do it. She touched his shoulder and turned him to look at her. “Thank you,” she said again.

  “Don’t mention it,” he said, his voice almost inaudible. He turned away from her and strode towards the door. Bohler was up onto his knees now, and he awkwardly moved out of Mercer’s way. Mercer stopped and looked down at him. “You’re one lucky sumbitch,” he said. That country twang was back, the one that surfaced only rarely. Sharon wondered if that was his real voice. Bohler didn’t answer, just looked up at Mercer with anger in his eyes. Mercer gave Sharon a last look, then walked out.

  “What was that all about?” Bohler said, his voice muffled and nasal.

  Sharon didn’t speak. She turned to where Glory was still kneeling up on the bed crying.

  “What in hell were you thinking!?” she demanded.

  “He was gonna hurt Kyle,” she sniffled.

  Tears were running down Sharon’s face as well. “So you thought you’d get yourself killed instead? Have you lost your mind?”

  Glory started crying again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Sharon wanted to scream with the tension and fear and the bone-weariness that dragged at her. Instead she sat on the bed and took her daughter in her arms. Bohler had gotten to his feet. “Ma’am, has he done anything…”

  “Deputy,” Sharon interrupted. “He hasn’t done anything but keep us alive these past few hours. And he’s not going to do anything to hurt either of us. It’s kind of a rule with him. No,” she corrected herself. “It’s more like an obsession.”

  “He’s a dangerous man, ma’am.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “He is. But not to me or Glory. You, one the other hand, are probably on pretty thin ice.” She looked at Bohler. “Considering who’s out there, don’t you think it would be a better idea for the two of you to work together?”

  “I had to try and take him in,” Bohler insisted. “For your protection. The man’s a killer.”

  “That’s true,” Sharon said, looking out the door where Mercer had just exited. “But it’s not all he is.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Mercer had found a pack of cigarettes in a cupboard downstairs. They had obviously belonged to Kathy-with-a-K, but Virginia Slims, he guessed, were better than no tobacco at all. He sat on the bottom step and watched the water coming into the house, spreading slowly across the hardwood floor. The flooding had gotten worse. The water was rising, slowly, but fast enough that he knew to try and move again would be suicide. They’d have to ride it out here, and hope the place held together.

  He should have killed the deputy. He knew it. The man had drawn a weapon on him, and there was only one possible response to that. And then Sharon had asked him not to, and that was that.

  He doesn’t need killing, she had said. Who was she to decide that? That had always been his call. Why in God’s name did he let her stop him? And there was only one possible answer to that, as well. He cared how she saw him. And that, he knew, was the most dangerous thing of all. In Mercer’s world, men who let women get to them got stupid. They started stupid fights or took stupid chances. Mercer had always been able to profit from that stupidity.

  As he sat and thought and watched the water coming toward him, he thought he heard someone whisper his name. He turned and looked back up the stairs. No one was there, but the whispering continued. He looked around the room. Nothing. He realized then that the sound was coming from the headphones he had slung around his neck. He took them off, looked at them for a second. Then he put them on.

  “Mercer,” a voice was saying. “I know you have Montrose’s headset. And I know you’re on the air. I know I would be. There’s a button on the right earphone. Touch it and that activates the mike. It’s built in. You don’t even need to speak. I’ll hear the click and know you’re listening.” There was a pause. Mercer did nothing. “Okay,” the voice said. “Maybe I am just talking to myself. But I don’t think so. I know you’re out there, Mercer. I bet you’re wondering how I know your name. Your Deputy friend gave you up. He told us everything. I hear the FBI wants to talk to you. It may surprise you, Mercer, but I know some people that might be able to fix that. Touch the earphone and key your mike if that’s something you might be interested in.”

  Mercer did nothing.

  “See, here’s the thing, Mercer. You’re mixing in things that are far above you. This is a fight between very, very powerful people. Movers and shakers. The people who really run things, not a bunch of Russkie immigrants who’ve seen ‘The Godfather’ too many times. What I’m saying here, Mercer, is you’re way out of your league. Just like Deputy Dawg, that yokel you met up with, was out of his. Smart move, using him as a decoy, by the way. I mean, talk about expendable. Don’t know as I would have trusted him with a gun, but I guess you had no choice. I assume you’ve taken care of him.”

  For the first time, Mercer reached up and touched the mike button. Click.

  “Ah, you are listening,” the voice said. “Good. Now maybe we can do some business. You have something we need, Mercer. You’ve figured out that we need that generator to finish our job with the safe. And you have the sparkplugs we need to make the generator run. But what you don’t know is that we have something you’re interested in. Something you’d like to have very much. A way off this island. Interested?”

  Mercer hesitated, then touched the mike button. “I’m listening.”

  “We’ve got boats, Mercer. Two of the finest, fastest inflatable rubber boats the Zodiac Corporation makes. And enough engine to scoot you across the sound when the eye gets here. And, thanks to you, we have some empty spaces. In fact, we can squeeze everyone we have left into one of the two we brought. Now, I’ll admit, you’ve irritated me more than a little. You’ve put me behind schedule. I don’t know if we’re going to be able to get out of here before the eye passes. But you can. You have no need to stay here. You can even take your playmates with you. Mercer, this is not a fight you need to be having.”

  “And the minute we get out into open water, your guy in the lighthouse picks us off like ducks in a shooting gallery,” Mercer said.

  There was a pause. “What makes you think we have anyone up there?”

  “It’s what I would do.”

  “You’re a smart guy, Mercer. Which is all the more reason for you not to get involved here. And if you don’t mind my asking, What exactly is your problem, anyway? Why’d you stick your nose in? Was it the woman and the girl?”

  Mercer didn’t answer.

  “Ahhhh…” the voice said. “That’s it. The lady in our party says you were shocked to find out she was a woman. Is that it? Got a soft spot for the ladies? Our co
lleague was engaging in some fun and games you didn’t approve of?”

  “He needed killing,” Mercer responded.

  “I see. Well, you certainly did that job. But that’s all a bit arrogant of you, don’t you think? There’s a lot of people need killing who don’t get it. And a lot of people get killed who don’t need it. You think you can set all that right?”

  Mercer didn’t answer.

  “Never mind,” the voice said, “that doesn’t get us past our problem, does it? The problem of you not trusting me to keep my word. That I’ll let you and your friends go. How about this? You leave from the other end of the island. Away from the lighthouse. Or from the construction docks. The best sniper in the world couldn’t make that shot.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Think hard, Mercer. The water’s rising. The clock’s ticking. The eye will be here soon. Keep this in mind, too: if we don’t have a deal, my other colleagues will be looking for you. And they won’t be authorized to offer any deals. You take my meaning?”

  Mercer didn’t answer. He just took the headphones off. He started walking back up the stairs, slowly, occasionally turning back to watch the rising water.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  When he got to the top of the stairs, Sharon was waiting, standing in the hallway like a sentinel. “Who were you talking to?” she said.

  He thought of saying “no one.” He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  “I got one of their headsets,” he said. “They want to make a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “The kind of deal where we walk into a trap and they kill all of us.”

  “You don’t trust them.”

  “No. They can’t afford to let anyone live who knows that they were here.”

  “What the hell do they want?” Her voice trembled slightly. She was on the ragged edge of exhaustion, he realized. Physical and emotional. She swayed a little, unsteady on her feet like a drunk.

  “You need to get some sleep,” he said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No,” he said, “you’re not.” He took her gently by the shoulder and started to turn her back towards the bedroom. She reached up as if to brush his hand away. Instead, her hand closed over his. They stood looking at each other like that for a moment. He moved towards her. She took her hand off his and put it against his chest, softly. “No,” she whispered. “Not…not now.”

  “Not…now?” he repeated.

  She smiled wearily at him. “If you could see your face…”

  “What?”

  “Well, we kind of have other stuff to think about right now.” She chuckled, low. “Bad timing, Mercer.” She turned and walked back into the bedroom. Mercer watched for a moment before he followed. Something had passed between them. He wasn’t sure what, but things had changed. He stopped, then went back to get the shotgun where he had propped it against the wall.

  Bohler was seated in an easy chair across the room. He had his head in his hands. Glory was still sitting on the bed, glaring daggers at him. The only illumination was the flickering candles. It was a big room, but sealed in as it was, and with the oppressive humidity everywhere, it suddenly seemed very small.

  “Look,” Mercer said. “I know you want to bring me in. But we’ve kind of got a bigger problem right now. If we get you armed, will you promise not to do anything stupid?”

  The deputy looked sullen for a moment, then nodded.

  Mercer went on. “We’re stuck here for a while. The water’s rising outside. I don’t think they’ll try to move on us until the eye passes over. But we need to set a watch either way.” He looked at Bohler. “Can you take the first watch?”

  “Yeah,” Bohler said. “Am I supposed to do it unarmed?”

  Mercer tossed the shotgun to Bohler. “It’s only light shot,” he said. “For skeet.”

  Bohler looked at the gun sourly. “Great.”

  “Well, it was enough to scare you into almost shooting a teenaged girl,” Mercer said.

  “How was I supposed to…” Bohler stopped, his mouth a thin, angry line.

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t completely trust you yet,” Mercer said. “If someone tries to get in, get off a shot. I’ll come back you up.”

  Bohler just nodded, not speaking.

  “Kyle,” Sharon said. “You need to tell him.”

  Bohler looked confused. “Tell me what?”

  Sharon was looking at Mercer. “If we’re going to work together,” she said, “everybody has to know what’s going on. Tell him what you told me.”

  Mercer thought a moment, then shrugged. “Okay.” He turned to Bohler. “They know I’ve got their radio,” he said. He indicated the headset hanging around his neck. “The leader tried to make a deal.”

  Mercer was startled by the expression of rage that crossed Bohler’s face. “What deal?”

  “He says they have a spare boat, now that they have a couple fewer men.” His smile was more like a baring of teeth. “He offered to trade it for the sparkplugs from the generator.”

  “If we get anywhere near them…”

  “They’ll ambush us and kill us all,” Mercer said. “We’re not doing that.”

  “Who put you in charge?”

  “You want to put it to a vote?” Mercer said.

  Bohler looked from Sharon to Glory, then back to Mercer. His shoulders slumped. “No,” he said.

  “Okay then. We need to talk. You were in with them, right?”

  “Right.”

  “How many?”

  “There were three men in the house with me, and the woman. There was one who was pretty clearly the leader. There was another guy, the guy who took me prisoner. Then there was…the one you killed.” He looked at Sharon. She didn’t react. “The woman was some sort of technician. I think she was supposed to open the safe.”

  “The safe,” Mercer said. “What’s in it?”

  “They never said. I don’t think anyone but the leader really knows.”

  “Any idea if there’s anyone else?”

  “The leader spoke a couple of times on the radio. I think to someone in the lighthouse. Oh, and by the way, I didn’t see any boats.”

  Mercer nodded. “I doubt that there are any,” he said. “Okay. Keep an eye on the front door from the bottom of the stairs. Sharon, Glory, you stay here. I’ll be in the guest room, down the hall.” He picked up a candle and made his way down the hallway. Bohler followed as far as the stairs. Mercer heard him stop. He turned, raising the machine gun slightly. Bohler had the shotgun down by his side.

  “When we get out of this,” he said, “I’m still putting you under arrest.”

  “Whatever,” Mercer said. Bohler went on down the stairs.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  After a half hour, Mercer decided that sleep was going to be impossible, even though every nerve in his body screamed for it. If the keening of the wind outside and the waterfall roar of the deluge against the house wasn’t enough, his mind was racing, trying to figure an angle, some way to keep them all alive. And his memories kept intruding.

  The new home he'd been sent to after Miss Earla's was more crowded, with three other boys and Mercer. One of the boys was a huge dark-haired brute named Dunkle. Dunkle had the other two boys terrorized, particularly the youngest, a puny redheaded kid named Eric Teagarden. Dunkle pushed and baited the new kid, trying to get a rise out of him that would lead to a fight. Mercer refused to respond, which seemed to enrage Dunkle even more.

  The third night he was there, Mercer was up getting a drink of water in the upstairs bathroom. He heard a door open and close, and saw Dunkle coming out of Teagarden’s room, buckling up his pants. He looked at Mercer, and a nasty smile had crossed his face.

  “He’s done in for the night,” Dunkle said, “but maybe you can have a piece of him tomorrow night.” Mercer could hear the soft sounds of weeping on the other side of the door. Dunkle turned away and walked down the hall to his room, an ex
aggerated swagger in his step.

  Mercer had long ago learned the value of being able to move quickly and silently, and he was behind Dunkle before the older kid knew it. They were at the top of the staircase that led down to the lower level where the foster parents slept, blissfully and drunkenly unaware of what went on after they had passed out. Mercer grabbed Dunkle and slung him down the stairs. Dunkle didn’t cry out, but the sound of him crashing down the stairs was like thunder. Then there was nothing.

  Mercer stood at the top of the stairwell, listening. He saw Teagarden’s pale frightened face peek out from his room. The younger boy's eyes widened as he saw Mercer standing there. He closed the door quickly. Mercer went back to bed.

  The foster parents found Dunkle the next morning, dead of a broken neck at the foot of the stairs. “I didn’t hear nothing,” Mercer had said. He looked at Teagarden, who was staring back at him with a strange fascination.

  “Neither did I,” Teagarden said finally.

  He needed killing, Mercer was going to say, but he didn’t. He didn’t think anyone would understand.

  The next week, they moved him again, so the word of Miss Earla’s death didn’t reach him until two months after her funeral.

  ***

  He heard someone moving in the hallway and sat up. The gun was in his hand before he realized he was reaching for it. He relaxed as he saw Sharon standing in the doorway.

  “Hey,” she said. “I’m out of cigarettes.”

  He reached for the pack lying on the bedside table and shook one partially out. He held out the pack. “Two left.”

  “Thanks.” She drew the cigarette out. He took the other and struck a match. He held it out to her first. She leaned forward and lit her cigarette from the flame. He watched the way her hair caught the light, almost too long. He had to shake the match out and light another. She seemed not to notice as she sat on the edge of the bed. She took a long drag, closed her eyes with the simple pleasure of inhaling the smoke. When she opened them, she smiled at him ruefully.