Guns Will Keep Us Together

by Leslie Langtry

  There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. "All right. Just try to get it done before the end of next week. Undoubtedly the NR people have learned of the two deaths so the rest will be on their guard."

  "Roger that." I said. "Paris and I are working together so we should be fine."

  "I'll tell the Council," Dela replied. "Nice job with the zip line by the way. I hated that bastard. Lou once ordered his tapes and the whole Council spent a month listening to them." Then she clicked off.

  "All's well," I said to Paris as I snapped my phone shut. And in my mind, I really hoped that was true.

  We checked into the Super 8 Motel and changed into our disguises. Once again, Paris arranged for the costumes, and once again I cursed him. Dressed in Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots, Ohio sweatshirts and baseball caps, we looked like any other average Joe. What I resented were the wigs. Why did they have to be mullets?

  I slipped on my blonde wig and stared at myself in the mirror. So this was what hell was like. Paris joined me in the mirror with his dark wig and a fake mustache. All I could think of was, please don't let me die on this gig.

  The idea of dying on a job was one that Bombays came to grips with at an early age. You never knew what could happen, really. We all carried cyanide capsules somewhere on our bodies. Gin had hers in a locket. Mine was in my ring. That's right, the one that got stuck in Leonie's hair. If I hadn't been able to get it up that night, I probably would've taken it.

  The idea that you might die would be frightening, if it wasn't hammered into our subconscious at an early age. No one had ever died on a hit, thereby exposing the family. But just to be safe, we never allowed ourselves to be fingerprinted.

  I did not want to die with a mullet. (There are just some things your reputation can't bounce back from.) We'd have to be extra careful. Especially in case Dutch (our target) had found out about the deaths of his colleagues. Without a word we went out to the pickup truck Paris had rented under an assumed name and drove to the zoo.

  This proved to be a good idea, because all we saw on the road were men in mullets and trucker caps, driving pickup trucks. Oddly enough, we went unnoticed.

  Paris circled the perimeter of the zoo twice, and I took notes of the entrances and exits. He pulled into the parking lot, and we got out and one at a time, bought tickets and entered. I was studying the zoo's map when Paris joined me.

  "What do you think?" he asked quietly. His mustache was a little lopsided. I swallowed a smirk and responded by pointing out the bear enclosure on the map. We headed in that direction.

  I've always liked bears. In this case, it was three black bears in an enclosed area that gave the illusion it was completely open. The brochure said that they preferred to make it look like you could reach out and touch the animals. No cages were in evidence, but the bears were surrounded by a thirty-foot-wide by thirty-foot-deep cement moat.

  Beary, the male, looked like he could handle the assignment. Missi said black bears were unpredictable. The two females, Belle and Bebe, seemed docile. Beary stretched and looked at us, then rolled over and fell asleep.

  "Hey," I asked a teenaged kid wearing a staff shirt, "is Dutch around?"

  The kid rolled his eyes. "He works the night shift tonight." Then Kid put ear buds in and turned up his iPod so loud I could hear some country singer wailing about Ford trucks.

  Back in the room, we checked our equipment and waited. Paris guessed that Dutch must've had the night feeding shift. And that was good because no one would be there to find his body until morning. Well, what was left of it anyway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  "And the number one threat to America is…bears!"

  ~Stephen Colbert, The Colbert Report

  You know what's really stupid? Not locking the gates around a zoo at night. Granted, you probably don't have to worry about the animals escaping, but you do have to worry about someone like…well, like me.

  Paris and I were crouched in some shrubbery near the bear enclosure. We'd been sitting there for some time, and my legs hurt.

  "There he goes!" Paris whispered in my ear, and I squinted into the darkness to see that our prey was heading toward the bear pen. Surely it couldn't be this easy?

  Without making any noise, we slipped from our hiding place and followed Dutch into the darkness. I wasn't sure where we were going, but it looked like a cave. For a moment I hesitated before I realized that this must be the entrance to the bear compound.

  The faux cave had a heavy door with iron bars. Because Dutch had just gone in and thought he was alone, it was unlocked. (What is it with Ohio?) We managed to squeeze through and close it without a sound, and waited until our eyes adjusted before proceeding.

  I assumed, incorrectly, I might add, that there would be some sort of corridor…maybe a lab or something similar, before we entered the bears' lair. I was wrong. Within seconds I realized we were outside, and another second later, I tripped over something large and furry.

  A low grumble told me I wasn't in Kansas anymore. I didn't know which bear it was, and I didn't care. Scrambling to my feet, I somehow managed to jump free of his paw as it swiped out at me.

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  "Dude," Paris asked quietly, "did you just trip over a bear?"

  "Sh! He might hear you!" I hissed.

  It was like I could feel Paris roll his eyes in the darkness. "Well watch where you're going!"

  Hysteria filled my voice, "I didn't think we were inside the bear thingy!"

  "Who's there?" a deep voice boomed. "damned kids!"

  Now what? We were trapped between our prey and a predator. The bear growled behind me. I saw a very large shadow moving toward us.

  "Dutch!" Paris shouted, to my complete surprise, "Over here!"

  "What the hell are you doing?" I whispered.

  "Identifying our target," Paris shrugged, like I was an idiot and we didn't have an angry bear behind us and an angry assassin in front of us.

  "Yeah?" The voice was getting closer. "Who the fuck are you?"

  Paris didn't answer. Instead he moved out of the bear's path and crouched down against the faux cave wall. I joined him, still not sure what his plan was.

  Dutch loomed in front of us. Paris immediately flashed his LED light onto Dutch's arms, I guessed to search for the tattoo. The way the flesh on his arm twitched, it looked like Woody Woodpecker was laughing at us. Of course, that wasn't it—Dutch was just angry.

  I grabbed the silver tube containing Missi's Bear Love Potion #9. I had to make the shot count, meaning it had to hit Dutch in order to attract the bear. I just wanted to get the job done.

  Dutch decided to charge us. The silver tube was slippery in my fingers, but I managed to find the button and push it. There was a sharp cry, and I felt some satisfaction. We'd only have a few seconds before our Vic realized he'd just been doused to smell like a cross between an appetizer and an attractive, bear whore.

  I could feel the beast moving now. Its four feet slapping against the ground rumbled like thunder (a thunder with sharp claws and teeth). Paris ran off, as fast as the bear closed in on us.

  Wait a minute. Why was the bear closing in on us? Dutch was about fifty feet away in the other direction. I could smell the barbecue sauce. So why wasn't Beary (I decided it was the male—for my own ego's sake) heading for him?

  In the darkness, I saw the four-legged eating machine racing after Paris. The smell of tangy ribs seemed to be fading. Why was that? I looked at Dutch who suddenly seemed to appear closer than he really was. Paris was screaming now, running in a zigzag formation across the compound.

  I watched in confusion, forgetting about Dutch. That is, until he punched me in the side of the head. As I fell to the ground, I realized what had happened. I hadn't hit Dutch with the spray. I hit Paris. Now he was in danger of becoming Beary's midnight snack/new girlfriend, and I was getting my ass kicked by another assassin. Some days, it just doesn't pay to get out of bed, drive to Ohio and put on a mullet wig.

&nb
sp; CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  O-Ren Ishii: You didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you?

  The Bride: You know, for a second there, yeah, I kinda did.

  ~Kill Bill: Volume 1

  Paris ran by, screaming again. Good thing for him, he was going pretty fast. Beary would eventually catch up though. And I had to do something about it before he did.

  Unfortunately, Dutch wasn't in a Good Samaritan kind of mood. He must have figured out we weren't a couple of teenagers breaking in for fun. Mainly I gathered this from what he said as he hauled me to my feet.

  "Who sent you?"

  If I was inclined to do so, I would've answered him. But that was impossible because he punctuated each question with a punch to my gut. I responded by kicking his knee backward until I heard it crunch.

  Dutch screamed and dropped to the ground—his left leg bent like an inverted "v," which made his mouth turn into the letter "o." He still had hold of my collar, so I went down with him.

  "Will you hurry up and help me?" Paris shrieked as he ran by again. I hoped he'd change his running pattern soon, or Beary would figure it out and ambush him. Bears are smart that way.

  I brought both arms up in front of me, over the shoulder and down, breaking Dutch's hold. After scrambling a safe distance away, I fumbled for Missi's bear tube. Finding it, I managed to load it and squeeze off another shot, hitting Dutch with a satisfying "plink."

  Dutch, my Vic was so freaked out about his leg bent backwards, he didn't even notice. But I did see Belle's and Bebe's noses go up in the air. There was no time to waste waiting to see if Dutch would actually be eaten by the bear, so I shot him, using Missi's disintegrating bullets. He looked up at me in surprise before falling over dead.

  "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Paris shrieked as he ran by me again. This time, however, Beary noticed the smell coming from Dutch. He slowed down just enough to sniff in that direction.

  "Hey!" I shouted, "Make another loop, then head straight for the cave door!" I turned and ran to the hidden cave door, swinging it open and holding it in place.

  My barbeque-scented cousin ran through, and I managed to close the door on Beary's head. Paris helped me hold it until we locked it. Then without looking back, we ran until we made it to the car.

  "Dammit!" Paris shouted from the shower for what must've been the fifteenth time. "It's not coming off!"

  I didn't respond. This was beyond my saying anything. I just folded his shirt up into a hotel towel and shoved it into the trunk of the car. I did make a mental note to tell Missi that the bear juice went straight through the clothes and stayed with the skin for hours. The whole trip back was like riding with a giant McRib sandwich. I think Paris was a little offended when I pulled up to a barbeque pork restaurant for take out on the way back.

  "That was messy," Paris grumbled.

  I nodded. "I didn't leave anything behind, and they're likely to miss the bullet wound if he was mauled and eaten."

  But in spite of our success, I didn't feel good about the hit. It was too sloppy. Chances were we'd hear about it from the Council.

  It took several hours to get home, and after picking up Louis and putting him to bed, I concentrated more on my injuries. Cleaning up at the hotel before leaving helped somewhat, but I still felt bruised all over.

  Sure enough, there were tell-tale marks on my abdomen where Dutch hit me repeatedly. No swimming at Disney World. It would be too noticeable, and I didn't know how to explain it to Louis. Well, Daddy was trying to kill this guy, but he kept punching me in the stomach. Somehow, that line of conversation didn't seem helpful.

  The next morning, after delivering the little guy to school, I met up with Leonie for lunch. She looked tired. I guess you don't really get much sleep as a mortician. It wouldn't necessarily be a nine-to-five job.

  "I was wondering when I'd hear from you again." She smiled wryly.

  "Sorry." I ran my right hand through my hair. "Had to go out of town on business. But I'm back now. How are things at Crummy's?"

  Leonie looked at me curiously for a moment, and I found myself wondering what she really thought of me. Her gray eyes cut me to the quick.

  "I'm not mocking you, by the way. But it is hard to say the name of your business without sounding sarcastic," I managed.

  She arched her right eyebrow, and her scowl faded into a smile. "Oh. Yeah. Right." Leonie waved her hand, and I found myself wanting to suck on those long, slender fingers. "There's just a lot going on—period. It's nothing, really."

  As she talked about her most recent funeral, I discovered that I was completely wrapped around every word that came from that lovely mouth. I did have it bad. But I didn't care. She was everything I wanted…everything I needed. And I was an idiot to let her out of my sight for one minute. Of course, that would mean hanging out at the funeral home, and I didn't really want to see what went on downstairs, if you catch my drift.

  "So what about you?" Leonie lifted the glass of wine to her lips, and I swooned.

  "Oh, not much. Consulting stuff here and there. Next week is spring break, so my whole family is going to Disney World."

  Leonie laughed. "I wish I could go with you. It would be much better than consoling the bereaved and embalming the deceased."

  "Do you actually do that? The embalming, I mean?" I guess it never occurred to me that my beloved (who, by the way, didn't know she was my beloved yet) could drain and refill a dead body. Of course, I could drain one too—using bullets as a colander.

  She nodded. "It's not so bad. I guess I've been around it all my life, so I'm kind of used to it." She pointed to my ribs with her fork. "You gonna eat that?"

  Suddenly, my taste for barbequed flesh had run its course. I shook my head, and she scooped the rack of ribs off my plate.

  Oh well, grossed out or not, I loved Leonie Doubtfire. And after dropping her back off at Crummy's with a lingering, lusty kiss, I made up my mind to tell her that the minute I got back from killing Mickey. I mean, when I got back from the Bombay Family Magical Gathering at Disney World.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Narrator: You are traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone.

  ~Rod Serling, The Twilight Zone

  Sure enough, Gin and Liv went wild buying Disney clothes for all four kids. Mom was a little miffed that we were going—apparently she'd been planning to take Romi and Louis in the fall.

  There's something about Disney World that brought out the kid in me. I'd never been, but everything from the bus ride to the hotel to the minute we set foot in the Magic Kingdom, I felt like a five-year-old again. Diego, Todd and Paris seemed to watch me, Gin and Liv with amusement as we "ooohed" and "ahhhed" over everything from the rides, to the gardens to the Mickey Mouse ear hats. (Mine said "Dakota.")

  The first day we just kind of shuffled from place to place, checking everything out. And I loved it all. It was as if this magical place had been made specially, just for me. I couldn't get enough of the sights, smells, and sounds.

  Mostly, I couldn't get enough of watching Louis enjoying himself. Except for the few, exceptionally brilliant comments like, "They must use dry ice to get that smoke," and "Did you realize there are no straight lines on Mickey's house? The contractors must've had it rough," he seemed like any other kid. I decided that as soon as this job was over and school was out, the two of us would take a trip somewhere. Just me and my son.

  About mid-day, I started to notice something. At first, Louis wanted to go on the rides with his cousins. But on the Peter Pan ride, he asked if he could ride with me. I scooped him up and climbed into the boat that carried us through Neverland. Every ride after that, Louis wanted to sit with me.

  "Hey Dad." Louis said quietly. "I want to be just like you someday."

  "What do you mean?" I asked before thinking about it.

  He took a deep breath, like he was going to say something you'd expe
ct from a thirty-year-old, not a kid. "I mean that someday I want to take my son to Disney World and ride the rides with him just like you."

  I looked at him for a moment. He had a funny way of completely surprising me. "Well, kiddo, I hope I can be right there with you both."

  He smiled, and I realized that my answer seemed to be enough—even if I didn't know what the hell the question was.

  We spent the second day at the Animal Kingdom, riding rides, seeing parades and touring the animal treks. Louis seemed to know more about the wildlife than the cast members who minded the Komodo dragon, naked mole rats and fruit bats.

  I bought him a stuffed bat at the gift shop, and Louis grinned his little gap-toothed grin.

  "Thanks, Dad. You're awesome."

  I felt a little spring in my step. Yep, I was about fifty pounds lighter. Funny how something so simple made me feel so great.

  "Hey, Louis?" I asked.

  "What?" Answered my perfect son.

  I gazed into his intelligent little face before answering, "Chicken butt."

  Louis tilted his head to one side, and for a moment I thought he wouldn't get it. There wasn't any logic, rhyme, or reason to it. It was just funny to say that when someone said, "what?" At least it had been when I was a kid.

  Louis burst into a fit of giggles, and I realized that no matter how super smart he was, we could both laugh about the business end of a chicken. I was having a great time.

  We were just about to get on the Kali River Rapids when an overwhelming sense of familiarity hit me. There was something about the man running the ride that screamed in my head. But he didn't look like anyone I knew. Tall, muscular and rugged looking, the blonde man looked exactly like the actor Daniel Craig. That's odd. Why would Daniel Craig be working here? In fact, I was feeling a little threatened by his attractiveness. I never had the "all-man" look. I was more the boyish rogue.