What Goes Around

by Rollins, Jack

  A tall, thin man with a full beard stood next to Nails’ limo, smoking a cigarette. He noticed Joey driving the rig toward him, stepped away from the limo, and started walking straight in front of Joey’s path.

  Joey stopped as the bearded mobster climbed up on the driver’s side steps.

  “You Joey?” the man asked with a medium baritone voice. As he spoke, the smoke of his cancer stick blew into the cab. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty-six, and while he had a full beard, the hair on his head was thinning quite rapidly. Joey guessed he’d be bald in two years.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’m here to see Nails,” he answered, waving the smoke away from his face.

  “‘Kay, just pull up to the doors. Everything is set.”

  “Thanks,” Joey responded, but the Beard was already walking away.

  The warehouse door began to open as Joey approached. He waited a few moments until it was fully open, then he drove in to park the rig. He checked on his passenger, who was still passed out. Joey even pinched the man’s nipple and twisted it really hard to make sure he was completely out, then shut the rig down and climbed out of the cab after the warehouse door closed.

  There were about fifteen men standing around. Joey scanned the crowd for Nails. Then the Beard ordered everyone to get to work. Two forklifts appeared out of nowhere. The men opened the trailer doors and began to remove the pallets of tires. Other men quickly uncoupled the trailer and jacked it up as a couple of other men chocked the wheels and started using pneumatic impact wrenches to tear the trailer apart.

  A deep bass voice filled Joey’s ears. “Quite a sight, ain’t it?”

  Joey turned around and saw Nails. He was a large man, maybe six foot three or four, his long sandy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, face covered with the same colored hair. His beard was down to his chest. He wore a plain white t-shirt and a leather vest full of outlaw biker patches. Fuck, Joey thought, how long has it been since I’ve seen Nails? A year? Two?

  “You fuckin’ outlaw! How ya been? What’s it been? A year?” he said as he reached out and hugged Nails.

  Nails returned the hug and Joey felt his ribs protesting as the big man tried to crush him. “Nah, man, it’s been eighteen months. You fell off the grid. Didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.” Then he released Joey and held him at arm’s length.

  “Shit, man, I’ve been working off continent. Lots of jobs in South America and Africa.”

  “Really? Anything that will affect us?” Nails asked, referring to his organization’s drug and hooker trades.

  “Nah, just some human trafficking, kidnapping jobs. Been keeping me in the green and the pink.”

  “Hope it was good pink.”

  “Only the best.”

  The men stood there for a minute, assessing each other’s strengths and weaknesses and then pushed each other away.

  “So, you got a rig full of tires? That ain’t like you. Usually you have something a bit more valuable.”

  “Hey, at eighty bucks a pop minimum, a trailer full of tires is worth at least fifty large. I’m giving it to you for ten. That’s a steal.”

  “Ten plus a clean SUV. Which ain’t cheap. What angle you working here?” Nails asked. He was always able to see more in a situation than was apparent.

  “Fuck, man, Nails, I’m on a case. Got a real piece of shit tied up in the sleeper. Need to have him moved into the bed of the SUV so I can deliver him to my contract. Unfortunately, this guy is a real fat bastard. Took me almost an hour to get him into the damn rig by myself. And, he’s a fighter.”

  “We can get him moved. Besides, the price of the parts of this rig will more than make up for the cost of the SUV. I’ll get Otter to help you.”

  “Otter?”

  “Yeah, the fuzzy-faced dude that’s been barking orders for the last five minutes. That’s Otter,” Nails said pointing at the skinny, balding guy who had directed Joey into the warehouse.

  “Damn, I thought he was some FNG or something.”

  “Well, he is, sort of. He’s my nephew. Been trying to make a name for himself for a couple years. He took out a couple US Marshals last year. Got promoted. The Marshals got buried in the swamps of Louisiana.”

  Joey nodded in complete understanding. Never fuck with the club; never fuck with the family. An unwritten yet important rule.

  “So, ten large and a clean SUV.”

  Joey turned and saw Nails holding a set of keys in his hand. He took the keys and looked around the warehouse. No other vehicle was inside. “Where’s the ride?”

  “Outside. Give the keys to Otter. He’ll get it for you and help you move your… cargo.”

  “Thanks,” Joey said, and he walked off toward Otter, who was standing a few feet from the men tearing apart the trailer. He handed Otter the keys and told him what he wanted. Otter nodded and disappeared.

  Ten minutes later, Otter parked one of the SUVs near the rig’s cab. When he got out of the SUV he approached his boss and Joey.

  “So… what’s with the Mercedes?” Joey asked Nails.

  “Gift from the Apple. Supposed to diversify.”

  “Thought you hated Europe.”

  “Only when Europe doesn’t fill my pockets.”

  “So? What do you think of them?”

  “Boss, we’re all set,” Otter interrupted.

  “Okay, help Joey with whatever he needs. If you don’t, your ass is mine. Consider me number one and him number one A!”

  “Yes sir.”

  Nails turned to Joey and said, “I’d love to hang out, but I’ve got two other deals going on tonight. Otter will do whatever you need him to do. The money is in the SUV. The rest is up to you.”

  “Thanks, brother,” Joey said.

  “Think nothing of it,” Nails said as he walked away.

  Joey turned to Otter. The man-boy was in the process of lighting up another cigarette, “Otter, I need to get my cargo out of the sleeper and into the back of the SUV without any hassle. Quick and easy. I checked him not fifteen minutes ago. He was passed out but I don’t trust the son of a bitch. He could be faking it. I want him loaded and ready for transport in ten minutes.”

  “Relax. I got this. I’ll get a couple of my boys and we’ll get him moved. You just sit back and enjoy the show.”

  Joey didn’t trust Otter or his boys but he didn’t really have a choice. He stood to the side as the three men pulled the body from the sleeper and began to carry him over to the back of the SUV.

  “Ugh, what the fuck is that smell?” one of the henchmen said aloud.

  “He’s covered in filth,” Otter replied, struggling with the unconscious man’s upper body.

  “It’s his feet,” Joey shouted. “They’re all fucked up.”

  One of the mobsters looked down at the leg he was holding and his face turned slightly green. “Gross. That shit is nasty!”

  Halfway between the vehicles, everything went to shit. Rob kicked out with his legs, forcing the two henchmen to drop him, leaving Otter to carry the rest of the weight of the dirty, naked, bloated man.

  As Joey watched, time seemed to slow down. Rob’s feet hit the ground as Otter lost his balance and fell backward, taking Joey with him. As they tumbled, Otter started to scream and the cigarette that had been dangling out of his mouth dropped onto Rob’s back. In a couple of seconds, the air was filled with the acrid smell of burning hair. Otter’s screams faded when he hit the ground, the obese man on top of him. The sound of Otter’s rib cage collapsing and breaking between the stiff concrete of the floor and the fleshy weight of his load filled the warehouse.

  Joey saw several ruby-red blossoms appear under Otter, and he knew the young mobster had no chance of drawing another breath.

  He leapt, his Taser held high above his head, knees tucked under him. His scream filled the air of the warehouse and caused all workers to stop and look toward the affair of life and death.

  ***

  “Make sure he is securely locked to t
he cage and unable to talk,” Joey said to several well-dressed mobsters.

  He sat with his back resting against one of the rear wheel-wells of the SUV he’d negotiated as payment for the rig and its components. However, the loss of Otter might have some repercussions he’d not planned for. “Fuck it,” he said aloud, moving toward the driver’s side of the vehicle.

  “Sir, we have him secured and he shouldn’t give you any trouble for at least three hours,” a voice said in Joey’s ear.

  “Three hours? How do you figure?”

  “We gave him a sedative,” the man said, miming injecting a needle into his own arm.

  “Okay. As long as I can get him to Wisconsin, then all will be all right.”

  “You need to leave now. We have to clean this mess up and I’ve no idea what I’m going to say to Otter’s mom. We need you to get in the wind. Now.”

  “I’m gone,” Joey said as he climbed into the SUV and headed out of the Chicago Port Authority as quickly as he could.

  ***

  “Fucking Portage, Wisconsin,” Joey said to the empty SUV cab. “Why here? Because no one expects bad shit to happen in the Midwest? Shit, most of the bad shit in America happens in the Midwest. ‘Course, no one would ever believe it. But shit, most serial killers are located where no one expects them to be.”

  Joey looked into the back of the SUV and was greeted with a severely complacent and unconscious pervert. “Good,” Joey said aloud. “Not too long now. I’ll collect a good payday, you’ll be transferred to your captors, and I’ll be on my way to my next job. I can’t wait. I’ve worked too fucking hard for this payday and all I want to do is spend a week or two in the Caribbean without any questions. I just want to forget this job,” he said in anxious conclusion.

  Joey drove straight to the coordinates on the GPS. He ended up sitting in the middle of a field, surrounded by cows and a beat-up pick-up truck. Some of the cows had taken to rubbing up against the old rust bucket. A couple had even lain down in the grass next to it.

  His phone rang and he answered the call.

  “You in the middle of nowhere?” an electronic voice said in his ear.

  “Yeah, and I ain’t happy about it. And what’s with all the cows?”

  “Good. Get out of your vehicle, take your stuff and leave the cargo. There are keys in the truck along with your money.”

  “You better not be jerking me around.”

  “I don’t do jerking around.” And with that the phone call ended.

  Joey gathered up his stuff and was about to leave when Rob started thrashing around. He turned and looked at the man. He was dirty and covered in his own piss and feces. Half of his body hair was burnt off and he stank to high heaven. “Sorry, man, my job is done and I think you’re done too.”

  Rob grunted and yanked on his restraints harder.

  “Ain’t no getting out. Have a good life… what little there is left of it.”

  Joey got out of the SUV, walked over to the pick-up and tried to shoo the sleeping cows away. They didn’t move. One large bovine was actually blocking the driver’s side door. “Fuck. Could this shit get any more fucked up?” he yelled as he trudged his way around to the passenger side.

  No cows blocked the passenger side. Joey opened the door and found a large brief case sitting on the passenger seat. He smiled. “Yes. Finally. Payday.” He tossed his duffel bag and back-pack into the back of the truck and crawled into the driver’s seat. “Fucking Wisconsin,” he said as he reached for the brief case and opened it, which was the last thing he ever did.

  ***

  Rob watched as Joey tried in vain to get the cows to move away from the truck. He was yanking and tugging as hard as he could to get free from his restraints when the truck exploded, and soon the vehicle he was in was pelted with bits and pieces of cow and metal.

  Just when he thought he’d never get free, the back half of a cow crashed onto the roof of the SUV, crushing it in, breaking out the glass in the doors, and devastating the metal cage Rob had been handcuffed to. He took the opportunity to crawl out of a broken door. In doing so his chest and belly were cut with broken glass, metal shards, and some splintered cow bones. He didn’t feel the incisions when they occurred; his adrenaline was pumping and everything was covered in blood.

  As he crawled away from the wreckage through the sawgrass, mustard weed, and dirt, he muttered prayers to a God he didn’t believe in. He was so consumed with escaping he failed to see the three figures walking toward him. “Please, God, if you’re out there, help me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’ll change. I’ll…”

  “Praying ain’t gonna help you, you sorry piece of shit,” a familiar voice said.

  Rob stopped his hobbled crawl and looked up towards the voice. “Mary! Thank God! You can help me. Please. Wait. What are you doing here? How’d you know…” Then everything fell into place in his starved, beaten, and electrified mind.

  “You really are a stupid asshole, ain’t you?”

  “But, but, I didn’t – “

  “Save it. I know what you’ve been doing. I’ve known for years. You think my kids don’t talk to me? You think I didn’t know about your overseas trips? You think I don’t know what you do on the road all across this country? You think I’m some sort of dummy?”

  Rob hung his head, and tears began to stream down his face uncontrollably, revealing pale, white, clean flesh beneath the blood and grime. “You planned all this? The kidnapping?”

  “I had help,” Mary said. She turned on a flashlight, shining it toward Rob’s right.

  He followed the beam and saw a young man in his early thirties. The man stood tall in his camouflage clothes, and in his right arm he held a hunting rifle. Rob noticed a pistol in a military holster on his hip.

  “Son… you?”

  “Yeah. Me,” the man said in a deep baritone. “But you ain’t been my dad in a long, long time. Far as I’m concerned, you were just a sperm donor. Nothing else.”

  And with that said, the young man stepped forward and Rob tasted the freshly polished leather of his boot.

  ***

  “Girls,” Mary commanded, “make sure he is ready to move. Sweetie,” she said as she looked toward the young man in the military garb, “please go get our truck.”

  “Yes, my dearest.” He trotted off into the darkness.

  Mary’s two girls stepped forward, each wielding a cattle prod, and began to zap the living consciousness out of the man who’d abused them. Their gleeful laughter was louder than the burning wreckage not twenty feet away.

  When Mary was sure Rob was unconscious, she called the girls back. The truck, driven by her real husband, Larry, arrived and they quickly loaded the unconscious sack of meat into the back. Mary took the wheel and the girls sat next to her in the cab. Larry rode in the back with his father.

  Minutes later, Mary parked the truck inside an old barn. Well, the outside was old. Inside, Larry, Mary, Jordan, and the girls had converted it into a modern slaughter house. They’d spent months getting everything together and practicing their techniques on deer, pigs, and cows. They’d even been able to supplement their income by selling the meat to local farmers.

  Larry had even had the forethought to offer their butchering services to local hunters who didn’t want to get their hands dirty. Then he’d built a smokehouse behind the barn so they could smoke the meat for customers who wanted that service. They’d been in business not eight months, but they were becoming quite successful.

  With the efficiency of a journeyman, Larry quickly strung Rob up by his heels, then secured the man’s hands to the floor. He then grabbed a hose and began to spray the man down. Mary was busy getting all the tools out of the sanitizer. The girls sat on stools, eating chips and drinking soda. Their eyes never once looked away from the preparations.

  “Where’s Jordan?” Larry asked Mary.

  “Oh, he’s in the house monitoring the police channels. If anything comes across about what’s going on he’ll let us k
now. He is also checking the internet to make sure there is no chatter about Joey and his antics in Chicago. The internet and social media have exploded with what went down at the docks. ‘Course, the police are clueless.”

  “Yeah, that was a real mess.”

  “His own fault. I warned him about Rob.”

  Larry shrugged. “He’s clean enough – for now. We gonna do this like we planned?”

  “Yeah, except I want him awake. He needs to know this ain’t gonna be quick and easy. I want him to suffer for what he’s done to my kids and all the other people he’s hurt.”

  “It’s your scene,” Larry said with a shrug. He pulled some smelling salts out of his pocket, cracked the ampule, and shoved it into one of Rob’s nostrils.

  The immediate effect was quite comical. Rob started thrashing and cursing like a veteran sailor. The girls laughed.

  “Now, now, hubby. You know all this struggling ain’t gonna help,” Mary said. She stepped forward with a pair of pruning shears, grabbed ahold of his manhood, and, with the swiftness of a barber, cut it clean off. She held the flaccid piece of meat in her hand, knelt down, and shoved it into Rob’s open mouth. “Shut up, you piece of shit.” She turned to Larry. “Cauterize the wound, my love. Can’t have him bleeding out before we all have our fun.”

  The air filled with the searing scent of flesh. Mary took some duct tape and wrapped it around Rob’s head to help quiet the screams and to make sure he didn’t spit out his own penis.

  “He’s not going to choke on that?” Larry asked

  “He may, but I don’t care,” Mary said and turned to the girls. “Ladies, it’s your turn. Have fun.”

  The girls stood up, smiled at each other, and stepped over to the bench where Mary had carefully placed all the tools. They each picked up implements of destruction and approached the man who’d made their lives miserable.

  “This is fun. Can we do it again?” one of them asked their mother.

  “Maybe,” Mary replied, beaming as a proud mother should.

  Wretched Annie by Rich Hawkins