The Red Mohawk

by AnonYMous

  Munson hesitated. He looked at Baby and knew she wasn’t really in the right state of mind to make any kind of decision. Her world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours, and it was obvious that she was clinging to the one thing she knew would keep her safe. Ironically, it was Joey Conrad, the guy who had spent the last twenty-four hours walking around town in a Halloween mask murdering everyone he met.

  ‘Baby, are you sure you’re happy to go with him?’ Munson asked, just to make sure he was reading the situation correctly. ‘I can take you if you like. It might be a little more discreet if nothing else.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘No offence but if I go with Joey I’m pretty sure I’ll get out of this town in one piece.’

  Munson snorted a laugh and shook his head, amused at the irony of the situation. ‘Sure thing, just promise you’ll say hello to your father for me, when you see him.’

  He bent down and picked up the Red Mohawk mask. It was heavier than he expected it to be. It was so grotesque; even now with no one wearing it, it still looked horrible. He tossed it to Joey Conrad. ‘You should keep this,’ he said. ‘You might need it again sometime.’

  Conrad caught the mask. ‘I hope so,’ he said.

  Munson dusted himself off. All kinds of debris from the smoke and gunfire had settled on his shoulders and in his hair. ‘I’ll clean up here,’ he said. ‘You two should hurry up and go. You can get out of town without anyone knowing you were ever here. That asylum is going to have to report you as missing soon, Joey. And the minute they do, the whole fucking country is going to be looking for you. You gotta get her home before they get to you.’

  Joey Conrad walked up to Munson and held out his hand. Munson shook it firmly and Conrad smiled. ‘It was good to see you again, Jack.’

  ‘You too.’ Munson paused for a moment before adding a compliment he thought his former trainee would appreciate. ‘You would have been a great soldier.’

  Conrad pulled a small metal object from a pocket in his black jeans and pressed it into Munson’s hand. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I snagged this from Mellencamp’s office.’

  It was a shiny mirrored zippo lighter. Munson had used a zippo to burn down a crime scene once before. At least this time he wasn’t racked with guilt about doing it.

  Munson was distracted by the sight of his reflection in the lighter for a moment, until Baby called out to him. ‘Will I see you again when I get home?’

  He looked up and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Probably not. I’m planning on retiring. I think I’ll live the quiet life somewhere where no one will find me. Especially your dad.’

  Baby ran up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘When I meet him, I’ll tell him how great you were.’

  ‘Thanks. Now get the hell out of here.’

  Joey Conrad put his arm around Baby’s shoulder and led her down the driveway. They stopped briefly by the dead body of Benny Stansfield and Conrad picked the dead cop’s car keys from his jacket pocket. Munson stood and watched the bizarre sight of the two of them walking off down the driveway towards Benny’s car. Sweet young Marianne Pincent, the girl he’d known when she was just five years old, was walking off into the sunset in a red leather jacket that was way too big for her, accompanied by a man who had recently escaped from an asylum and inflicted a massive killing spree on a small town. And yet, when Munson looked at them and saw Conrad with his arm around Baby’s shoulder, and her leaning against him, it made him kind of envious.

  “It’s a fucked up world,” he thought to himself.

  He looked at the zippo lighter in his hand. It was time to burn down The Beaver Palace and its evil history.

  He headed back inside the building and searched through a few of the rooms on the ground floor for flammable liquids. The best thing he found was a drinks cabinet in one of the dining rooms. He poured as much liquor over the floors, stairs and furniture as he could and started setting fire to any sets of curtains he came across.

  When he was sure he’d started enough small fires that would eventually spread and set the whole place ablaze, he hurried back out to the front lounge with the last remaining bottle of alcohol he’d snagged from the drinks cabinet. It was a bottle of his favourite rum.

  He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. He didn’t even feel the urge to take one mouthful. He savoured the smell but then without a moment’s regret he poured the contents all over the sofa in the lounge. Every last drop of it.

  He flicked open the zippo lighter once again. The flame lit up immediately. The lighter was hot in his hand where he’d been repeatedly using it. He tossed it onto the sofa. A huge whoosh went up and flames spread quickly across the floor. Munson felt a huge surge of heat engulf him. He backed away and turned to head back out into the cold night air. He’d taken barely two steps towards the front door when he heard a woman’s voice scream out from the balcony above him.

  ‘Help! I’m up here!’

  Munson spun around and looked up. Standing on the balcony at the top of the stairs, looking absolutely terrified was a beautiful young woman with long dark hair and gorgeous creamy brown skin, wearing a red basque and black stockings. The raging fire was blocking off her route down the staircase.

  Shit!

  ‘JUMP! I’LL CATCH YOU!’ Munson yelled, positioning himself below the balcony.

  ‘Jump? Are you fucking nuts?’

  She was clearly panicked and not thinking straight. Fortunately, years of training and experience meant that Munson knew exactly how to calm down a hysterical prostitute in a house fire.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he yelled up to her.

  ‘Jasmine.’

  ‘Okay Jasmine. My name is Jack. I’m a government agent. Throw yourself over the balcony and I’ll catch you. Don’t worry, I’ve done this a million times. I won’t drop you.’

  Jasmine seemed to forget her predicament for a moment. ‘A government agent?’ she gawped, her face showing signs of genuine interest. ‘Like James Bond?’

  She was either in shock or as daft as a bag of cheese. She was seconds away from burning to death and yet she had taken the time to ask him if he was like James Bond. It was endearing and ridiculous in equal measure. An abrupt and reassuring answer was required.

  ‘I’m exactly like James Bond,’ Munson yelled. ‘Now fucking jump for fucks sake!’

  Jasmine’s face lit up at the news that he was exactly like James Bond. She vaulted over the balcony without hesitation. Munson steadied himself and caught her in his arms, cushioning the fall by bending his knees. As soon as he had hold of her she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. She had a beaming smile on her face and seemed oblivious to the fact they were surrounded by raging hot flames. Munson attempted to put her down but she tightened her grip around his neck and looked into his eyes.

  ‘I always wanted to be carried out of a burning house by James Bond,’ she said.

  ‘It’ll be quicker if I put you down,’ said Munson. ‘Then we can run out together!’

  ‘I can’t run in these heels.’

  Munson looked at her shoes. She was wearing a stupidly high-heeled pair of stilettos. And even though there were six foot high flames and burning bodies of dead cops all around them, he noticed that she also smelled really good. Oh what the hell, he decided. Every man should carry a crazy hooker out of a burning building at least once in his life. He hurried towards the front door with Jasmine in his arms. She wasn’t heavy so it wasn’t too much of a hardship. He dashed through the front door and into the cool air outside. Parts of the staircase and ceiling were beginning to fall apart behind him. As they raced down the driveway they heard a series of loud explosions from within the building. The Beaver Palace was collapsing as it lit up the night sky.

  Eventually Munson stopped and put Jasmine down. She steadied herself on her high-heels while he bent over to catch his breath. Carrying Jasmine from the flaming building, while exhilarating and heroic in an ego-boosting kind of way, was also very ti
ring for a man of his age.

  ‘Who started the fire?’ Jasmine asked, staring back at the burning mansion and dusting herself off.

  ‘Does it matter?’ Munson panted.

  ‘It does to me. I work there.’

  Munson straightened up and rubbed his back, which was beginning to ache. ‘You don’t have to work there any more. You can go home now.’

  ‘That was my home.’

  ‘Well then you can start a new life somewhere else now.’

  ‘With what? Everything I own is going up in smoke!’

  ‘Trust me. You’re better off.’

  ‘So where are you taking me now?’

  Munson stared back at the burning building. The heat coming off it was immense even from forty metres away. He considered the fact that without the fire Jasmine might be freezing her ass off in her underwear.

  ‘Would you like my shirt?’ he offered.

  ‘No. I want somewhere to live. Where are you taking me?’

  ‘I don’t know. You’ll just have to find somewhere. It’s not my problem.’

  Jasmine put her hands on her hips and stamped one of her stiletto heels on the ground. ‘I know you burnt the place down. You owe me a home agent man!’

  Munson rubbed his forehead as he tried to think of a way to appease her. Before he had a chance to come up with anything, Jasmine started clapping her hands together. ‘Look, look!’ she squealed. ‘I think the top floor is collapsing in! This is so cool. I’ve never seen a building burn down before. Have you?’

  Munson stared at Jasmine and struggled to mask the bewildered look on his face. This girl was batshit crazy. But he found it oddly endearing. She was gorgeous too, which he considered might possibly be clouding his judgement. As he watched her clapping her hands together wildly at the sight of the fire, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw he had an incoming call from Devon Pincent. He put the phone to his ear.

  ‘Hey Devon.’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Your daughter is on her way home. We got her out. She’s in one piece.’

  ‘Holy shit.’ Pincent’s voice almost cracked momentarily. Munson smiled as he considered how emotional his old friend must be feeling. True to form though, Pincent held it together and carried on. ‘Is she there with you now?’

  ‘No. Joey Conrad is taking her home. He really came good. Those years of training finally paid off. Operation Blackwash is a success after all.’

  Pincent let out a huge sigh. Munson guessed it was from relief on a number of fronts.

  ‘Thanks for helping out on this,’ Pincent said. ‘I appreciate it. How much mess is left over? Can we cover it up?’

  Munson looked back up at The Beaver Palace burning to the ground. He cast a sideways glance at Jasmine who had stopped clapping and was standing so still, that she was clearly listening to his conversation without trying to look like she was doing so. He turned away slightly. ‘I’ve torched the evidence. Only thing is, half the town knows I was here. It won’t take a genius to know I was involved in all this shit.’

  ‘I’m way ahead of you Jack. Get out of town and get yourself to Andrews Airport, double quick. I’ve got you a private plane that’ll take you to Romania. I’ve set you up with a real smart apartment there.’

  ‘Romania? What the fuck? Why Romania? Why not the Bahamas?’

  ‘Because there’s something in Romania I need you to look at. Another job if you will. Only this time you won’t have to kill anyone. And I’ve set some money aside for you.’

  ‘Romania though? Romania is a shithole. Why would anyone want to go there?’

  Jasmine piped up with an answer. ‘The Danube, the Carpathian Mountains, Peles Castle, the Black Sea Resorts.’

  Munson covered his cell phone with his hand. ‘What are you on about?’ he asked in a furious whisper.

  ‘Romania. You asked why anyone would want to go to Romania. I just gave you a few reasons.’

  ‘How do you know so much about Romania?’

  ‘History Channel. Ooh look, the chimney’s collapsing!’

  Munson shook his head. Jasmine was once again transfixed by the sight of the burning mansion. Crazy woman. He stopped covering his cell phone and returned to his conversation with Pincent.

  ‘Do I have any options other than Romania?’

  ‘Not right now,’ Pincent replied. ‘Look. I need you there for a few months. Do this one thing for me and you’ll be set for life. I’ll find you a spot in the Bahamas after, I promise.’

  Munson pondered the offer. It didn’t sound like he had much of a choice. He needed to skip the country and lie low for a while. And it sounded like the Romania trip was the only option at short notice. ‘Will I need my passport?’ he asked.

  ‘No. You won’t be going through customs.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Munson lowered the phone and looked at Jasmine. ‘You’re homeless right?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And you seem to know a lot about Romania.’

  ‘More than you by the sound of it.’

  ‘You any good at cooking breakfast?’

  Jasmine tilted her head to one side and smiled at him. ‘I can warm up a good sausage in the morning,’ she said with a wink.

  Munson rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘How’d you like to come to Romania with me?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  Munson put the phone back to his ear. ‘Devon. Make sure there’s room for two on the plane.’

  ‘Will do Jack. And good luck. Sounds like you’re gonna need it.’

  Fifty Five

  Getting out of B Movie Hell hadn’t been as tricky as Baby expected. She and Joey ditched Benny’s squad car a mile away from The Beaver Palace and hopped into Joey’s yellow and red stock car that he’d abandoned by the side of the road earlier. The stock car was so cool and Joey drove it really fast.

  A cop car that had been parked at the end of the bridge preventing anyone from leaving town, scarpered quick-sharp when its driver caught sight of the Red Mohawk’s stock car hurtling towards him across the bridge.

  From there it had all been plain sailing. The drive across the countryside was something Baby had never experienced before. They listened to her Dirty Dancing CD on a loop for the entire trip. Joey Conrad seemed to appreciate the music, and for the first time in years, Baby felt like a normal person.

  For the first few hours they swapped stories about their lives in The Beaver Palace and Grimwald’s Mental Asylum, frequently one-upping each other with their tales of craziness and oppression. Eventually, Baby began to feel tired and somewhere in the middle of telling him a story about her friend Chardonnay’s fascination with leopard print clothing, she fell asleep to the sound of She’s Like The Wind by Patrick Swayze.

  She slept for what felt like days. It had been a deep sleep. A contented sleep, the likes of which she hadn’t had since childhood. The fear of being woken and forced to perform sexual acts with strangers was gone. No one could harm her while she slept next to Joey Conrad.

  When she woke, the car was parked. The Dirty Dancing CD was playing. She blinked a few times to make sure she was awake and not dreaming about Patrick Swayze as she had done so many times in the past. She heard Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes singing Time of My Life. This was no dream though. She was still in Joey Conrad’s car. She smiled when she thought about the fact he had continued to listen to her favourite CD even while she was asleep.

  She looked across at his face. He wasn’t wearing his mask. He was staring ahead through the front windscreen. He looked like he was deep in thought about something.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

  He hadn’t noticed that she was awake. He looked at her and smiled. ‘You’re back home.’

  She rolled her neck around to unstiffen it and stared out of the window. He had parked up outside a detached house in a quiet suburban neighbourhood. There was a white picket fence around the perimeter of the house and a tarma
c pathway that led up to the front door.

  ‘This is it? I live here?’ She didn’t recognise the place at all.

  ‘I think so. I’ll wait in the car while you go see if anyone’s in.’

  Baby sat upright and rubbed her eyes. ‘Are you not coming with me?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I have to go. There are other missing people to find. And other Silvio Mellencamp’s to kill.’

  She looked into his eyes and cast her mind back to her first few encounters with him. He had sliced up Arnold at the diner, along with a couple of other guys who had tried to restrain him. The next time she saw him was when he had reappeared in her room and chopped Reg the chef to pieces. Then he had gunned down all the henchmen in B Movie Hell. He had done those things while wearing his yellow mask and the red leather jacket, which he was now wearing again after briefly lending it to her.

  ‘Before I go, could you do one last thing for me?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Put the mask back on.’

  He smiled again, as if he could read her mind. ‘Okay.’ He reached over to the back seat of the car and grabbed the thick yellow rubber mask. He slipped it on over his head and adjusted it until his eyes were able to see clearly through the holes. Then he looked over at her again. The mask was as hideous as ever and a constant reminder of everything Joey Conrad was capable of. Baby drank in the image of it, from the red hair and black eyes, to the yellow skin of the skull and right down to the evil grin. She never wanted to forget it.

  ‘Go on. Time to get out’ he said. ‘You’d better hurry. I’ve got to keep moving. The cops are after me, you know.’

  ‘Will they catch you?’

  ‘One day, yeah. They’ll catch me.’

  Baby unclipped her seatbelt and leant forward. She ran her hand through the strip of red hair across the top of his mask and then leaned in and kissed the hideous yellow and black teeth on the mask. Joey Conrad’s mouth was on the other side of the rubber. She felt him kiss her back. For years she had dreamt that a Prince Charming would come to her rescue and that they would kiss and everything would be all right. In her dream Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes were always singing Time of My Life in the background. That dream had finally come to fruition, only Prince Charming looked nothing like how she imagined. But she would never forget him.