The Red Mohawk

by AnonYMous

  ‘The doctor is what? The Red Mohawk?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s the guy that killed half the town today. Get down there and shoot the bastard or break his fucking neck, I don’t care which. Use the intercom system to tell everyone.’

  Mack finally cottoned on to what was going on. He hurried over to a varnished wooden cabinet beneath the television on Mellencamp’s wall. On it was an intercom system with a microphone that Mellencamp frequently used to call girls to his room when he couldn’t find them. The intercom was linked up to all of the speakers in the building. Mack picked up the microphone, switched it on and made an announcement to the whole building. ‘Everyone, this is Mack. I have an important announcement from Silvio. All henchmen are to head down to The Booty Parlour immediately. The Red Mohawk is there in Baby’s room. He’s disguised as a doctor. If you see him, shoot on sight. Shoot to kill.’

  Mellencamp interrupted him. ‘Tell them about the hundred grand!’

  ‘Oh and yeah, remember there’s a hundred grand for the man who kills The Red Mohawk.’

  ‘Good,’ said Mellencamp. ‘Now get down there and kill that sonofabitch. Call me when it’s done.’

  Mack nodded and strode confidently back out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Mellencamp picked up his cigar from the ashtray and spoke into the phone again. ‘Did you hear that Benny. Everything’s under control. We’ll have that muthafucker any minute now.’

  ‘I’ll send the riot squad anyway.’

  ‘Thanks Benny.’

  Mellencamp hung up the phone. He picked up his glass of cognac and took a sip.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ he heard Selena ask.

  ‘Oh for fuckssake!’ he yelled, standing up. ‘Go and get Jasmine will you? And tell her to bring some yoghurt. And an oven glove.’

  Forty Seven

  Without the mask, Joey Conrad looked like a normal guy. It was odd, because Baby didn’t feel threatened by him when he looked like this, but if she was going to get out of The Beaver Palace in one piece she wanted the killer who had showed up in the diner wearing the mask and the red leather jacket and black jeans. Not the guy in the creased chinos and the crap blue shirt with the brown leather briefcase.

  He barked an order at her. His voice was just the same, confident and aggressive. ‘I’ll give you two minutes to wash that blood off and another minute to get dressed. Then we’re getting the hell out of here,’ he said.

  Baby looked down at all the traces of Reg’s blood that were splattered over her body. There wasn’t an excessive amount, because most of the blood fell short of the bed. But there was enough to make her want to get rid of the stuff. And soon.

  She rushed into the bathroom and jumped into the shower. The water was freezing, but she wasn’t going to wait for it to warm up. She wanted to get out of The Beaver Palace as fast as possible. She refused to think about the fact that her way out was with a homicidal maniac. Out was out.

  She scrubbed furiously. It wasn’t just Reg’s blood she wanted off of her, it was the stink of him. The stink of the whole place. As she watched his blood wash away down the drain hole at her feet she hoped it would be the last shower she ever took in The Beaver Palace.

  When she was sure every trace of Reg was gone she jumped back out of the shower and grabbed a pink towel from the towel rail. Another thirty seconds were eaten up drying herself off before she darted back into the bedroom.

  She was greeted by the sight of Joey Conrad slipping his red leather jacket on over a black T-shirt. The briefcase he had brought in with him when he’d disguised himself as a doctor was on its side on the bed. It had been emptied, yet there wasn’t a stethoscope in sight. The case had contained nothing other than The Red Mohawk’s clothes and weapons.

  As Baby rifled through her clothes drawers she watched him in the mirror above her dresser. He had a brown leather contraption wrapped around his shoulders, containing a number of holsters for concealing weapons. He’d finished putting on his red leather jacket before she managed to identify what any of the weapons were.

  As she slung on a sleeveless red T-shirt and a pair of jeans, she saw him pick his rubber face-mask up from the bed. He slid it on over his head and fixed it straight so he could see through the eyeholes. The mask was as hideous as ever, even though she now saw the man underneath it as an ally and her best chance of escaping from B Movie Hell.

  ‘You’ve got one more minute,’ she heard him say.

  She grabbed her sneakers from where Mack had thrown them onto the floor earlier. Her arm still hurt from the bullet wound, but thanks to the adrenaline rush she was getting from all the excitement she was pretty sure it wouldn’t hinder her in getting the sneakers on and tied up.

  As she slipped them on, she heard a loud crackling noise. A set of speakers in the corners of the room that had previously been playing music suddenly burst into life. She knew what that meant. This was an announcement from Silvio Mellencamp. His office was synched into all the speakers in the building. Mack’s voice followed the crackling noise.

  “Everyone, this is Mack. I have an important announcement from Silvio. All henchmen are to head down to The Booty Parlour immediately. The Red Mohawk is there in Baby’s room. He’s disguised as a doctor. If you see him, shoot on sight. Shoot to kill.”

  Baby was sitting on the end of the bed tying up her sneakers. Once more she looked into the mirror on her dresser. The evil grinning yellow mask on her rescuer stared back at her.

  ‘We’ve just lost our element of surprise,’ he said. ‘You can take as long as you like to get ready now.’

  Before she could reply Mack’s voice blurted out through the speakers again.

  “Oh and yeah, remember there’s a hundred grand for the man who kills The Red Mohawk.”

  Baby suddenly felt scared again. It didn’t sound like they would even make it out of her room, let alone the building. ‘They’re going to kill you!’ she said. ‘There’s loads of them, and they’re armed. They’ll kill us.’

  ‘No they won’t. My first plan of escape has been compromised, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh no. What was the plan?’

  ‘We were going to make a run for it and I was going to kill anyone who got in our way. We can’t do that now.’

  Baby couldn’t hide how worried she was. She knew what Mack and his men were capable of. ‘So what are we going to do now?’ she asked.

  ‘Plan B.’

  ‘What’s Plan B?”

  ‘We’re going to walk out slowly and I’m going to kill everyone.’

  Baby stopped tying her shoelace. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously.’

  Baby thought about her friends in The Beaver Palace. There weren’t many, but there were a few, like Chardonnay. ‘You don’t have to kill the other girls,’ she said hopefully. ‘They’re not a threat to us. And some of them are my friends.’

  ‘Okay, I won’t kill the girls. Unless they’re armed.’

  ‘Great.’

  That was a relief. A huge weight off Baby’s mind. She wasn’t keen on any of the killing, but some of the girls in The Beaver Palace didn’t want to be there any more than she did.

  ‘Do I have time to grab some things quickly?’ she asked.

  ‘Like I said. Take as long as you want.’

  ‘I’ll only be a minute.’

  Baby finished tying her laces and jumped up off the bed. She grabbed her eyeliner and lipstick from her dresser and threw them into a pink handbag, which she tossed over her shoulder. She was just getting her Dirty Dancing DVD from the player when there was a loud bang at the door. It startled her and she spun around.

  The door came crashing open and two burly security guards burst in. The Red Mohawk was expecting them. He punched the first guy full in the face, knocking him back against the wall. It surprised the second guy, and before he could react he felt the full force of one of the Mohawk’s boots crashing down onto his right kneecap. Baby heard the sound of his knee shattering. It was like a wooden tab
le leg snapping in half. The Red Mohawk twisted the stricken guy around by his head and then smashed his face into the wall. Almost immediately a third henchman charged into the room, straight into a crunching fist punch similar to the one the first guy had received. Baby hadn’t been counting, but she was pretty sure all three henchmen were taken down inside less than five seconds. The Red Mohawk dragged the last guy a little further into the room and shut the door again behind him. All three henchmen were lying in a heap on the floor.

  ‘Wow,’ said Baby, unintentionally out loud. ‘Are they dead?’

  ‘Yeah. I had to take them down quick so I used the Hallenbeck technique.’

  ‘What’s the Hallenbeck technique?’

  ‘Bash the nose up into the brain. It’s an instant kill. For special occasions. You ready to go now?’

  Baby slipped the Dirty Dancing DVD into her bag and took one last look around the room. She had lived in that room for as long as she could remember. Not one single fond memory came back to her until she spotted her Dirty Dancing soundtrack CD on top of the stereo next to the empty case of the soul compilation CD that Reg had picked out. There was no sense in having the DVD without the accompanying soundtrack. She ran over and grabbed it and slid it into her bag.

  ‘I’ve got everything, I think.’

  ‘Okay. Stay close to me at all times if you can. That way I can protect you.’

  ‘What if something happens and we get split up?’

  ‘Go where you hear some music. I love to kill when there’s music playing. Find music, you’ll find me.’

  ‘Okay. But you know some of these henchmen are armed, don’t you? I saw a bunch of them earlier. They’ve got guns.’

  The Red Mohawk placed one hand on the door and prepared to open it. Before he did he pointed at his mask and made one final remark.

  ‘Don’t let the smile fool ya. I’m not as nice as I look.’

  Forty Eight

  The ride along in the back of Randall’s pickup truck was a bumpy one. On more than one occasion Munson’s entire body bounced up into the air. At times he feared he might be making regular appearances in Randall’s rear view mirror. All the alcohol he had consumed during the day had now left him feeling dehydrated. And his stomach wasn’t coping well with all the bouncing around. The strong cup of coffee he’d had back at The Alaska Roadside Diner had worked its magic but it was now working its way through his system and his stomach was churning.

  He had his handgun clenched tightly in his right hand, ready to point it and use it if any unwelcome visitors peered into the back of the truck.

  After a short drive the truck came to a stop. Munson didn’t dare stick his head up to take a look at where he was. Instead he kept his focus on the night sky and concentrated on listening for any voices.

  ‘Hey Randall,’ a male voice called out. ‘I’ll open the gates for ya. Come on through.’

  Randall leaned out of the driver side window and shouted back. ‘The cops are on their way Ned. Got reports that The Red Mohawk showed up here earlier disguised as a doctor. Did you let him in?’

  ‘Are you fucking kidding?’

  ‘No. You seen a doctor?’

  ‘Yeah. I let a doctor in about half an hour ago.’

  ‘Well then you let The Red Mohawk in!’

  ‘Shit. What the fuck?’

  ‘You’re damn right, what the fuck! Benny’s been trying to ring through to warn you guys about it, but nobody’s been picking up the phone. Have you heard anything from inside?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like people being chopped up with meat cleavers. What the fuck do you think?’

  ‘No. I ain’t heard nothing. I’ll radio through to Mack. Oh hang on.’ Munson heard the sound of a walkie-talkie bursting into life. He couldn’t make out exactly what was said, but it sounded like something serious was going on. If Joey Conrad really was in the building, then it sounded like he’d thrown off the doctor disguise and started slicing up henchmen.

  ‘Okay Randall,’ yelled Ned. ‘I’m opening the gates. I’d better come in with you though. This sounds serious.’

  Munson heard the sound of a pair of large electric gates grinding open. He rolled over onto his front with his gun at the ready. He prayed that Ned, whoever the hell he was, decided to get in the front of the truck with Randall, rather than in the back. His hopes faded quickly when he heard Randall, just a few feet away from him, leaning out of the window.

  ‘Hop in the back,’ Randall yelled to Ned.

  Fuck.

  The truck rolled forward a few feet before Munson saw a pair of hands appear on the side border not far from his head. The face of a scrawny guy in his early thirties with unkempt brown hair appeared. He didn’t spot Munson lying down right in front of him in the dark. He hauled himself up onto the border of the truck and threw one leg over. It wasn’t until he was almost face to face with Munson that he actually noticed him. He landed on his side in the back of the pickup. His eyes opened wide with shock at the sight of another man lying there in wait for him. There was an awkward moment as both men remained motionless staring at each other. The moment ended abruptly when the truck accelerated forward and bounced upwards with a judder. As it landed back onto the ground, Munson fired his gun.

  The bullet didn’t have far to travel. It moved barely ten inches before it burst through the chest of Ned. Munson almost felt like he should apologise, but it in all honesty it was just the latest in a long line of shitty things he’d done to people he’d only met that day. The guy’s facial expression changed instantly. The muscles in his face dropped, he looked absolutely gutted, like he’d just opened a Christmas present and discovered it was a dead rat. A second later he exhaled his last breath and his face thudded into the bed of the truck.

  Up front Randall slammed on the brakes. ‘Goddamn! What the hell was that?’ he shouted out, peering out of the driver side window again to see what the noise was. ‘Have I got a flat?’

  Munson didn’t waste a second. He rolled over and up onto his knees. He pointed his gun at Randall’s head. The off duty cop saw the barrel of the gun first, then looked up and saw the face of Munson behind it.

  ‘It’s not your day,’ said Munson.

  Randall never got a chance to respond. Munson fired his gun again. Even though he wasn’t firing from great distances it was good to know he could still hit his target dead centre when he needed to. He hadn’t fired a gun in anger for a long time, so it was a relief to still have the skills. This time his bullet flew straight between Randall’s eyes. His head flew back and blood sprayed out through the back of his skull. Two seconds later his dead body was slumped in the front seat of the truck with the remains of his head hanging out of the window.

  Munson jumped out of the truck. Behind him he saw the large electric gates that the truck had just crawled through. He was inside the grounds of The Beaver Palace estate. The main building was right in front of him at the end of a gravel driveway. There were a couple of security guards dressed in black rushing inside the building through the front entrance. Unfortunately they closed the main door behind them.

  Munson took off his jacket and tossed it into the back of the pickup truck. Even though he didn’t have a black T-shirt like the other security guards, he was wearing a black long sleeved shirt so he’d blend in better with that than the jacket. He’d move more freely too. And having just fired off two shots from his handgun he didn’t have much time.

  He ducked down and hurried towards the entrance with his gun at the ready. As he approached the large wooden oak door at the front of the building he was wondering how he would get inside. He crept up the two steps to the front and pulled on the door handle. It didn’t open. The door was locked from the inside.

  Shit.

  Munson took a few steps back. He contemplated heading around the back of the building to find another way in when suddenly the sound of gunfire filled the air. There was one almighty shootout going on inside The Beaver Palace. And a lot of
screaming.

  Forty Nine

  Baby followed the Red Mohawk out of her room and down the corridor towards Clarisse’s reception desk. All around them it was pandemonium. Girls were running around screaming, doors were slamming. Music was blaring out from one of the rooms. Baby recognised the song. It was Cry of the Celts from Michael Flatley’s Lord of the Dance musical. She’d heard it numerous times before, and never liked it.

  Up ahead, behind the reception desk she saw Clarisse. The receptionist had her back to them. She was bent over and looking into a plant pot. And she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Baby tried not to focus on the sight of her bare ass sticking up in the air. There were more important things to see. And hear. Most notably the sound of more security guards charging down the stairs by the side of the plant pot Clarisse was inspecting. The rattling of their boots pounding on the steps was quite unnerving. It sounded like a herd of buffalo.

  Baby stayed behind the Red Mohawk, keeping one hand pressed gently against his back. It wouldn’t hurt to stay within touching distance. She was convinced it was the safest place to be. He crouched down on one knee and reached both hands inside his red jacket. From within it he pulled two handguns. Fairly big fuckers they were too, she noted as she crouched behind him. There was something about this guy that instilled confidence in her. They were hopelessly outnumbered by Mellencamp’s inexhaustible stream of henchmen. By rights escape from The Beaver Palace should be impossible at this point, but Baby had her own serial killer. A knight, not in shining armour or on horseback, but wearing a Halloween mask. She couldn’t help but think, somewhat inappropriately, that he was incredibly fucking cool. And he was hers.

  ‘Are you gonna shoot them all?’ she asked as the sound of the henchmen bounding down the stairs grew louder.

  ‘When the time is right,’ he replied, his guns trained on the staircase.

  ‘When will that be?’

  ‘Now.’

  As the knees of the incoming henchmen appeared charging down the stairs, he opened fire with both of his heavy-duty handguns. Baby planted her hands over her ears and watched on in awe as seven or eight pairs of legs snapped in half on the stairs as a myriad of bullets exploded into them, ripping them apart. The upper bodies of a bunch of unfortunate henchmen came tumbling down the stairs. They bounced and rolled to the bottom where they landed in a huge pile. Next to them, Clarisse was still bent over with her ass in the air. Only now she also had her fingers in her ears. When the gunfire stopped she pulled her fingers out and stood up. She turned around and saw Baby hiding behind the masked killer, peering over the top of his red stripe of hair at the carnage he had created. Clarisse’s jaw dropped open. She stood gawping at them for a few seconds before she came to her senses.