Trudi Baldwin - Sammy Dick, PI 02 - Acid Test for Yellow Flower

by Trudi Baldwin

  I rolled to the side, tripped her foot as I rolled, and she plummeted to hit the platform face down, right where I’d just been lying on my back. I reveled in the sound of her own full-body-weight crashing down on the metal platform, without me as a safety cushion to soften her landing. Bam! Score one for me!

  Without my battered body there to break her fall, Marissa landed with a pulverizing slam and just lay there in a heap beside me, either dead or spent. I’d be happy with either outcome.

  I lay right beside her, too beat to move, me facing up, Marissa down, while I tried to further gather my senses. I listened for a second or two to see if she was breathing. She was. I slowly dragged myself up to my knees. I didn’t know what hurt worse, my ribs or my lungs. I sucked in one more big breath, and pulled my feet in under me, lurched out to the railing to stabilize myself, and let go of the rail to stand upright on my own. I was a bit wobbly, but able to remain standing as I processed what to do next. Time to slap Marissa into handcuffs, if Mountain would just show up. Where the hell was he and where the hell was Hayden?

  I leaned over to get the other can of acid that was still on the platform. I’d get it completely away from Marissa and out of harm’s way.

  A hand shot out and grabbed my ankle from behind. I donkey-kicked the hand away. Clutching the can to my chest, I pivoted awkwardly, so I could look down on Marissa and kick the living shit out of her. She’d rolled over and sat upright. Her inferno eye flared at me. She was ready for another battle.

  “Holy fuck, girl. You’re like the Creature from the Black Lagoon that never dies!” I growled at her.

  She wasn’t listening. She’d grabbed my kicking foot, jammed it upwards, and threw me off balance. Clutching the can made me top-heavy. I faltered backwards perilously close to the vat. I had the presence of mind to squeeze the can’s lid one last time to ensure closure, then I wrenched my foot out of Marissa’s grasp, dropped it behind me, and shot it forward, propelling the can twisting and turning across the platform until it skittered under the railing, flew through the air, and plummeted with a thud on the factory floor. I sincerely hoped it survived intact, but I needed to get it away from Marissa and figured the cans were designed to withstand high-impact.

  The drop-kick was the final straw, though, that threw me off balance. As my foot followed through, into the air, I lost my balance backwards. I began spinning and flapping my arms in the air, like a baby bird trying to learn how to fly, but it was hopeless. For what seemed like an eternity, I flapped and teetered on the edge of the Mother Vat thinking Oh, shit, Sammy, you’ve finally done it now, until I finally lost my struggle and plunged backwards into the vat splashing lotion upwards as I executed a smacking back flop.

  The motion of the back flop had actually flung me into a back half flip, like a backwards handspring and I began to plunge head first down, down, down into the Mother Vat. I figured the bottom was about twelve feet below the surface from where my head was, but I was feeling disoriented and uncertain. I jerked my knees up toward my face as I nosedived. Flipped my hands and arms in the same direction and righted myself just as my feet touched bottom. I bent my knees and pushed upwards. The urge to open my eyes and to breathe through my mouth was overwhelming, but I resisted, and began dog-paddling with all my might, scooping my hands and clawing upwards as if I were digging my way out of an oily grave—which I was.

  As I dog-paddled upward, I prayed that the amount of acid in the vat was too minimal to do me damage, but who knew?

  Getting to the surface was harder than I ever expected. After all, it was only about twelve to sixteen feet deep, like swimming out of the diving end of a really deep swimming pool, but my clothing, gown, shoes and gloves hindered me and the beaters swept by, snatching at my gown and writhing about my legs. Time seemed suspended as I fought my way upwards, trying to avoid the beaters, determined to live and breathe again.

  I kept paddling and paddling with my eyes squeezed shut, but it was taking so long to find the surface, I began to worry I was going in the wrong direction and not upward. Perhaps the battle blows to my head and body had disoriented me so much that I’d never find my way out? I couldn’t open my eyes for fear of acid exposure. What good would it do me anyway because I wouldn’t be able to see anything through the thick lotion? As I paddled about trying to find the surface, I realized how much we rely on opening our eyes underwater to orient ourselves.

  I kept paddling and paddling and paddling, but my cupped clawing took on a frantic quality. My lungs were screaming and burning in their need for air, and fear began to surge through my nervous system like jolt after jolt of electrical shocks. The sour sweat of fear pumped out of my skin to mix with the viscous lotion. I was about to die, and in the Mother Vat no less. Womb to tomb I thought as I became even more disoriented, but finally, just as I was considering gulping in a lungful of lotion and letting go completely, my head broke the surface. I shot my gloved right hand upwards, swiped it across my mouth and nose to remove some of the lotion, and gulped in a precious lungful of air! Then another and another! It tasted so sweet and good I could hardly believe it. I would never take breathing for granted again. Next, I ripped the gloves off my hands, treading water ‘er lotion the best I could, and swiped my hands across my eyes and then my ears, so I could attempt to orient myself.

  I was only a few feet away from the platform. I waited until one of the beaters swept by me then I kicked my way over to grasp the edge of the metal platform and try to hoist myself out as fast as I could, but my escape was not to be.

  Marissa, who still stood on the platform, started chanting, almost screaming. “I will do as commanded. I will do as commanded!” Just as I gripped the side, she began stomping on my knuckles wherever I tried to grab hold of the edge to get myself out. I’d grab hold and she’d stomp that hand, so I’d let go and grab with the other hand and she’d stomp that one too. Grab, stomp, grab, stomp. Lots of stomping and shooting pain in my fingers with no escaping the vat. I felt like a piano player in a shootout. Even if Marissa weren’t there, I’d have had a hell of a time getting out of the vat. I was so greasy and weighed down by clothing, not to mention the beaters rotating by, swatting at me and I was exhausted from my fight to find the surface.

  “Ouch, you fucking snake, Marissa,” I snarled back as her foot jammed down on my fingers again. Then she changed her tactic, pulled her foot back and rewound it for a kick aimed directly at my head. This put her precariously off-balance, though. I saw my opportunity and took it.

  “If I can’t win one way, I’ll win another. So, take this, bitch!” I slobbered and sputtered through my lotion laden lips, yelling at her as I seized her fast-approaching foot with one hand, just before it connected with my head, and yanked it toward me, forcing her off balance. She collapsed straight down on her butt with a back-jarring thud onto the platform. I summoned up the last reserves of my strength to let go of the side, grasp both my hands around her ankle, plant my feet on the side of the vat and shove off like an Olympic swimmer making a turn. The move worked! Marissa slid forward and I pulled her kicking, screaming and clawing into the Mother Vat with me, all the while thinking Two can play at this game you schizoid fuck. If I’m goin’ into this vat of who knows what kind of shit, bitch, then you’re goin’ in with me!

  I figured the fierce warrior in me had burst back onto the scene and on that wild and invigorating thought, we both plummeted back down into the central base solution kicking, fighting and pulling at each other’s hair. I’d long ago lost my hair net and Marissa’s never really covered the front of her Frenchie-do anyway, so hair-pulling, however hard to do in the greasy lotion became central to our fight.

  The beaters rotated dangerously around us while we fought for supremacy over each other in the gooey lotion. Dismemberment, disfigurement, death—Marissa didn’t care! She fought me like crazed cat. Each time I tried to frog-kick and paddle to the edge, she grabbed me and shoved me under. I’d struggle to come up for air, but then I’d have to use my
hands to wipe the gooey lotion out of my eyes to see anything at all. As soon as I regained my vision, she’d be on me again, slugging me in the face, while she treaded lotion. She kicked me in the legs. Landed a karate kick right into my gut causing me to go under again. When I resurfaced, she whacked me over the head from behind as I turned and tried desperately to swim to the edge again, trying to avoid the beaters swooping past my legs and arms. Finally, I gave up attempting to escape and turned to do flat-out battle with the crazed schizoid.

  Here’s the thing, though. I’d prepared for many hand-to-hand combat situations with my dad and brothers. We’d simulated all kinds of settings. That ‘s what you do when you grow up in a cop family. But how often had we simulated a knockdown, drag out cat fight in a huge vat of lotion? Never. I was ill-prepared. Trying to gain the upper hand over an opponent who was: 1) crazy, and 2) slippery as a fuckin’ eel was nearly impossible. I’d gain a hold on her and immediately lose it. Then descend down, into the cloying, oily lotion, the blades clipping at my feet—my gown, clothing and shoes weighing me down, strangling and drowning me.

  Each time I went down, I’d frog-kick back up to try to suck in air, but when I reached the surface, I was still unable to breathe much or see anything. I’d wipe my eyes, nose and mouth, pray the acid content was too low to harm me, and then I’d be off again, either trying to kill Marissa or at least get out of the fucking vat. No matter what I tried, it wouldn’t work. Once again, I began to suspect I was going to die in the damn Mother Vat, womb to tomb.

  What to do? Only one thing I could do. Fight harder than fuckin’ Marissa. I dog-clawed my way to the surface again as one of the beaters whacked my leg. I scanned around the best I could, spotted Marissa, lunged toward her, and started slugging her in the face and kicking at her legs. As good of shape as I was in, though, the fight to stay alive, not just against Marissa but against the lotion itself, was wearing me down. I’d been in the vat a lot longer than Marissa and I had the distinct disadvantage of not being crazy. I needed to rest and breathe normally again to regroup. I could feel my strength ebbing away. Once again, I started entertaining tempting fantasies of just letting go, sinking to the bottom, and resting there in peace until death took me.

  Just as I was beginning to think I’d breathed my last breath and that last breath was going to be death by drowning in lotion, I heard a voice cry out above me, “I’m coming in to help!”

  I raised up my weary head to see Tanya standing above us on the platform and stripping down to her magnificent tattoos and a teeny, tiny flowered thong. I was just screaming out a warning, “Don’t do it, Tanya! There’s aci …” when Marissa kicked me right in the spine from behind causing me to flip forward into the lotion. Just before my eyes submerged, the last thing I saw was Tanya tossing her teeny, tiny flowered thong off and slipping into the vat with us.

  Holy fuck-a-moly, we’re all in deep shit now! I thought as I went down, down, down again. Then I dog-paddled back to the top, energized now that I had help and hope for survival. I also wanted to get Tanya out of the lotion as quickly as possible to minimize acid damage.

  I surfaced to see a wonderful sight: Tanya beating the living daylights out of Marissa. The tide was turning! Without her shoes, gown and clothing, Tanya was much more effective than I was, which normally would have pissed me off, but in this instance, I began rooting for her.

  Heartened by Tanya’s help, I swiped the lotion out of my eyes some more, cleared my nostrils the best I could and when Tanya relaxed the beating for an instant to catch her breath, I made eye contact with her, signifying time to go in for the kill, and we swam like demons descending upon Marissa as a team.

  Tanya grabbed Marissa’s left arm at the wrist and I grabbed Marissa’s right arm at the wrist. Our holds were so greasy and slippery, I felt like I was trying to strangle an eel, but Tanya and I clung with death-grips. Keeping Marissa’s arms separated gave her no way to break free or swim on her own. She still tried to kick the shit out of us by thrashing and striking fiercely with her legs, but by using our free hand to paddle and scissor-kicking with our legs, Tanya and I were finally able to defeat Marissa. We literally dragged her across the surface of that vat, kicking, squirming, chanting, and fighting us, like the crazy bitch she was, but our method gave her only two options: drown or comply. She chose to comply.

  As we neared the edge, it dawned on me that some really smart person, probably Trinity, had turned off the damn beaters. Trinity now stood on the platform offering Tanya’s gown to us like a rolled up rope. Still full of energy, Tanya used her free arm to grab hold of the makeshift rope. Through a series of awkward thrusts, Tanya was finally able to maneuver one knee up on the platform, then the other, without ever letting go of Marissa or the makeshift rope. Trinity held on tight, leaning back so as not to fall in too.

  I transferred my hold on Marissa to Trinity. Together, Tanya and Trinity began tugging Marissa out of the vat by pulling on her wrists. With their free hands they grabbed hold of Marissa’s oily clothing and attempted to hoist her up onto the platform. I assisted by trying to shove Marissa’s slippery, sorry ass up from behind while Tanya and Trinity tried to reel her in like a floppy, gigantic fish. It wasn’t easy. They tugged. I pushed. We all grunted and swore, but at last, Marissa was pulled out of the vat and the prize fish just lay on the platform, a soggy, spent heap.

  Tanya and Trinity then turned to help lug me out. I helped the best I could by pulling myself up the makeshift rope. They tugged on my clothing to assist. Finally, finally, I’d escaped the vat! I was so exhausted, I crawled right over by the prize fish and collapsed beside her. She was facing downward with her knees under her and her butt in the air, right where Tanya and Trinity had left her. Her face smashed on its side onto the metal platform. Her eyes closed. She was breathing. The position did not look comfortable. I lay on my back, swiping oil from my eyes, ears, mouth, nostrils and sucking in air like I’d just run a marathon. I looked up at the high ceiling with the exposed duct work breathing in and out, lungful after lungful of blessed air.

  No time for rest, though, because just then Mountain, Hayden and Sally Snort rushed up the platform stairs. Sally started yelling frantically, “Strip, strip!” while Mountain proceeded to rip all my clothes off and Hayden ripped off Marissa’s. I noticed that both Mountain and Hayden wore the heavier plastic gloves, courtesy of Sally Snort, I presumed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lazy Larry clamoring halfway up the stairs to the platform, cell phone pointed at all the action, recording away. He sang out, “Yo, mates, this one’s goin’ viral before the evening news!”

  Sally grasped one of the water hoses used to clean the Mother Vat and turned it on to half-power, since high-power would have blown us right off the platform, and I’d already been battered enough for one day, thank you very much. Sally began hosing off our naked bodies while everyone watched. I didn’t care. I was grateful for Sally’s presence because I knew from Geo’s hacking that she’d been researching and preparing for just such an event. Next she ordered Mountain to continue hosing us down while she took out a test tube vial to ascertain, I surmised, just how much acid content there really was in the vat.

  She leaned down, scooped up some lotion into the vial, shook it, and looked at her watch. A tense minute ticked away. The lotion didn’t change in color, but remained white. Finally, Sally Snort looked up and scanned our faces, “I have the preliminary test results. Good news. The vat of lotion is so big and the spill must have been so small that the negative effects on any of these women should be zero to none. I will have to conduct further tests to validate these preliminary findings, but I am hopeful that no harm will come to any of you who have been in the vat. ”

  Everyone cheered, except Marissa who was naked and chanting again. Somewhere along the way, Mountain had handcuffed her hands behind her back. Her chant went like this: “I have failed him. He will kill me. I have failed him. He will kill me.”

  I was so tired of her whi
ning, “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marissa, and get a grip. Haven’t you ever heard of women’s lib? By the way, who the hell is he?”

  “I will never tell his name. I will never tell his name.”

  I noticed Lazy Larry scooting closer to us on the platform to get a few close-ups. Who knew how long he’d been up there filming? He sidled up near me, continued to video with one hand while he slid his other into his pocket and grabbed my own phone. I’d forgotten all about it after I’d left it conspicuously out on the factory floor.

  “It’s been vibrating. A lot,” Larry explained and handed it to me. “I wish I vibrated as much as your phone does, Parker. If you get my drift …”

  I ignored him, seizing my phone away from him. The call identifier read Geo. I moved further along the platform away from everyone. Geo sounded unusually worked up. “I have urgent news. It’s Fake Freddy, Sammy. I’m sure of it. I used a special back-door system …”

  I cut him off dead in his tracks, “Geo, Fake Freddy’s up there in Sedona with Gloria, either right now or very soon! Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “Oh, hell, yeah. Absolutely, Sammy. If you’d read everything that I’ve read today, you’d be shaking in your shoes for Gloria’s life.”

  “All right. Gotta go. I’ve got Mountain here and we’ll take care of it if we can. Just one more thing, Geo.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I just won Motive Monopoly. I made the right guesses way back when, using my lame intuition as you call it. You owe me a thousand bucks, Geo.”

  “Sammy, I swear, sometimes you are so immature. I can’t believe it! A woman’s life is at stake and all you can think about is Motive Monopoly and your thousand bucks.”