Dead Ringer

by Ken Douglas

  Gay put her mouth to Maggie’s ear. “Only one more fence.”

  “Okay, let’s get out of here.” Maggie sprinted across the yard, attacked the side fence, pulled herself over it as if she’d been doing it all her life.

  A wet wind blew her hair as she hit the grass. It was going to rain again. She sighed when she saw Jonas’ red Volkswagen parked across the street where they’d left it.

  Gay came over, squatted on the ground next to her, huffing like she was out of breath.

  “You okay?” Maggie was breathing hard herself, but the adrenaline sparking through her made her high. Even her arm didn’t hurt any more.

  “Yeah.” The rain came down, sheeting cold. “We’re safe now.”

  “No we’re not. Nighthyde and that Scarface character are on their way to Jonas’. They’re going to kill the girls, Jonas and Gordon, too. Then Scarface is gonna shoot Nighthyde in the head and make it look like suicide.”

  “How do you know this?” Gay sounded stunned.

  “It’s what they were talking about when they didn’t think I understood them.” Maggie shivered.

  “You speak Japanese?”

  “Yeah.” Maggie wiped water from her eyes.

  “Let’s go!” Gay got up and started for the car, went to the passenger side.

  Maggie fished the key out of her pocket, had it in the driver’s door when a Sheriff’s cruiser came around the corner, tires hissing. It stopped as Maggie was getting in the car. A window came down.

  “What are you ladies doing out in the rain?” The deputy was young, maybe twenty-two or three.

  “Going for pizza,” Maggie said.

  “In this?” The deputy pointed to the sky.

  “Kids don’t care about the rain,” Maggie said. “Not when they can send the moms out for the pepperoni and Pepsi.”

  “Where are these kids?” the cop said.

  “There.” Maggie pointed to the corner house, the one they’d just walked away from. “You can go annoy my husband if you want,” she said. “My kids would love that, but we’re getting wet, so we’re outta here.” Maggie started to get in the car.

  “You know about the trouble up the street?”

  “Mister,” Maggie said, “the only reason I’m talking to you is because I thought the neighbors called because the kids got the TV up in the stratosphere. If you have other business, I’d appreciate it if you’d go about it and let us be on our way.”

  “Kinda late for kids to be eating pizza,” the deputy said.

  “And they’re gonna get it a lot later if you don’t stop hassling us.”

  The cop looked to the house. Saw the flickering light from the television. He couldn’t help but hear the sounds of movie gunfire. It sounded like a war was going on over there. “Okay, sorry to have bothered you.” He rolled up his window and drove away, turning left onto Daneland, Nighthyde’s street.

  “That was close,” Gay said.

  “Yeah.” Maggie pulled away from the curb.

  “Uh oh,” Gay said. The Sheriff’s car turned its lights on, pulled into a driveway, backed out again. “Guy with that German Shepherd must have seen us, told the cops about the two woman in his backyard.”

  “Could they have got it over their radio that quick?”

  “Only takes a second once they know,” Gay said.

  Maggie jerked the wheel to the right and the VW climbed up the curb.

  “What are you doing?”

  “No way can this thing out run that cop car.” Maggie felt the bump as the rear tires thumped over.

  “So, we should pull over and tell them what’s going on.”

  “Like they’re gonna believe us.” Maggie shifted into second, pushed the accelerator to the floor. The rear wheels spun on the park’s wet grass, the car slipped to the left, Maggie, in her element now, turned into the slide as the wheels found traction and the little red car scooted forward as the police cruiser turned on its siren.

  “I can’t see anything,” Gay said.

  “We’re driving blind.” Maggie hadn’t turned on the lights and the rain was sheeting down now.

  “But he’s not!” Gay was looking out the back window. “He jumped the curb. He’s gonna be on us in a second.”

  “I see him in the rearview.” Maggie turned on the lights, hit the brights. Ahead she saw manicured grass. She shifted up into third. She didn’t know how far the grassy savannah went, she couldn’t see beyond it.

  “Oh shit!” Gay screamed. “He’s gonna run right over us.”

  The siren was deafening as the Sheriff’s cruiser climbed up onto their tail. Red and blue lights flashing on the cruiser, coupled with its bright lights, lit up the inside of the VW. Blinding white coming out of her mirror fought with the eerie glow from the Christmas tree on top of the cruiser. Red, blue, blinding white. Red, blue, blinding white. Like no Christmas Maggie ever knew. A Christmas from Hell, maybe.

  All of a sudden the VW shook and went into a long slide to the right.

  “Bastard rammed us,” Maggie said. This time, instead of turning into the slide, she turned away from it, felt the Gs as the VW’s rear end whipped around.

  The kid cop in the cruiser slammed on his brakes as the VW spun through a one-eighty.

  “Holy shit,” Gay screamed as Maggie popped it down into first, stomped on the gas and let out a whoop as the little car’s tires dug in again.

  Caught by surprise, the deputies could only watch as the VW sped by them, engine screaming against the abuse Maggie was inflicting upon it. But their surprise was short lived. In seconds the cruiser was wheeling around, digging up the grass as its powerful engine roared, cutting off the whine of the VW’s.

  “Look out!” Gay yelled.

  “See it.” Maggie jerked the wheel just in time to avoid hitting a baseball backstop.

  “You went the wrong way, turn, turn, turn!”

  Maggie pulled the wheel back, but not in time, and the Volkswagen scraped along the bleachers. The sound sent shivers screeching up Maggie’s spine as she struggled with the wheel. Finally, she got control again. She pulled the wheel to the right, away from the stands. The VW shot toward the pitcher’s mound, past it and continued on toward second base.

  “They’re coming!” Gay said.

  The deputies had swung a wide right to avoid the backstop and were now coming at the women from right field. Maggie pulled on the wheel, jerked the car toward left and shifted up into second.

  “Look ahead,” Gay wailed.

  Maggie did and saw a long hillock, six or seven feet high. It was covered with pine trees, the kind her parents had had every Christmas as far back as she could remember. Only these were much bigger. The hillock and trees ran the length of the baseball field, separating it from the residential neighborhood across the street.

  “Hang on.” Maggie clutched, grabbed the stick, pulled it down into first, put her foot to the floor and aimed the car to a small space between two of the trees.

  “You’re crazy!”

  Again the car was flooded with light. The cruiser was coming up fast, going to ram them again. Did. The VW went right, Maggie pulled it back, engine screaming. For a second she was off course, didn’t think she was going to make it, but she did, threading the car between the trees as if she did it all the time.

  Pine branches screeched against the sides of the car and once again sound shivered through her, but Maggie screamed, “Yesssss,” as the car passed out of the trees and they were careening down the hillock.

  A loud crash thundered behind them.

  “They didn’t make it!” Gay yelled out as the little car shot over the curb. The wheels squeaked as they hit the street. “You did it!”

  Maggie shifted up into second and took the first left. They sped down a residential street and came to a four lane road.

  “I know where we are,” Gay said. “That’s Woodruff. Turn right, then left at the light, it’ll take you to the freeway.”

  Horace glanced over at the Jap
anese out of the corner of his eye as the wipers click clacked water off the windshield. He was staring ahead, as if he could see through the rain, stiff and still as Buddha. It was unnerving the way he could hold himself like that. Fucker didn’t even blink. Couldn’t be good for his eyes. All of a sudden, Horace couldn’t stop himself from blinking. His eyelids fluttered out of control and for a second he thought he was having one of Ma’s seizures.

  Someone told him once they were hereditary, but he didn’t believe it. He couldn’t afford to.

  He turned onto Ocean. A couple minutes and he’d be at the fag bar. If life could be the way he wanted it, Horace would walk away right now. But when did you ever get what you wanted? The woman had seen him, her friend, too. Got a real good look, even though they were all tied up.

  He shook his head, stopped for a light, listened to the rain pounding on the roof. How the hell had those bitches tracked him to the Lakewood house? And what was Ma thinking about all this? One thing for certain, he was gonna have to make it up to her somehow. Not just for the deal about Virge not coming back, that was gonna be bad enough, but Ma was never gonna let him hear the end of tonight.

  The light changed and he took his foot off the brake.

  “The women gotta go,” Horace said. “That’s a fact.”

  The Japanese grunted, kept his eyes forward.

  “Maybe even that faggot. I can see that.”

  The Japanese nodded. Horace caught it out of the corner of his eye.

  “But I’m here to tell you, we’re not hurting them little girls.” It was bad enough he had to throw that kid off that balcony. Little fucker’s scream was gonna be with him for the rest of his life. He wasn’t about to add any more kids to the list.

  “Whatever you say,” the Japanese said.

  “Just so we got that understood.” They were approaching the fork where Ocean branched off into Second Street. Horace kept to the right, stayed on Ocean.

  Maggie kept her foot on the floor and threw the VW into third as she took the off ramp onto Studebaker Road. She’d had the little car up to ninety on the freeway, despite the rain. And through blind luck, the grace of God or both, she hadn’t been stopped. She flew off the ramp at seventy-five, tires squealing. In seconds she careened the car around the corner and was speeding into the Shore.

  “Faster,” Gay said.

  “It’s on the floor.” Maggie raced down Second Street, sliding the car through the first left past the bridge onto Bayshore Drive, downshifting through the middle of the turn.

  The car rocked up on the two right wheels, sliding like a bar of soap on a wet floor.

  “We’re gonna go over!” Gay screamed.

  “No we’re not!” Maggie cranked the wheel into the direction of the slide, got control, but not enough to keep the car on the street. They jumped the curb and now the VW’s tires were churning sand as they shot along the beach.

  “Look out!” Gay yelled.

  “Holy shit!” Maggie pulled the wheel and barely avoided a couple making love on the sand. The couple rolled away, white arms and legs caught in the headlights. Maggie felt the fear in their wide eyes, sure as if she’d been right there with them.

  “It’s after midnight,” Gay said. “And it’s pouring cats and dogs.”

  “Maybe they’re drunk, horny and got no place to go.” Maggie aimed the car back toward the road, downshifted to second. The lovers looked like kids, barely old enough to get into a bar. A long time ago, in her other life, she and Nick had made love in the rain. A beach in the Bahamas on their honeymoon. But it wasn’t nearly so cold.

  “Hang on! Maggie braced herself as the VW went over the curb. It was a miracle the tires still held air. They thudded onto the street and once again were in a slide, but Maggie got control of it in time to make the turn onto Ocean. She downshifted through the corner with her foot on the floor.

  “Now you’ve got the hang of this!” Gay said.

  “Yeah!” Maggie had gone around the corner without so much as a chirp from the tires.

  “There’s a parking spot right across the street,” Gay said.

  “Yeah.” Maggie slipped into the space, parking next to the beach sand, opposite the Whale.

  Horace slowed the van for a couple of women crossing the road. He shook his head. They shouldn’t be out so late. Anything could happen.

  “It’s them!” The Jap said.

  “What?” Horace looked through the wet windshield and the clacking wipers. It was the two women. The Twin and the black one they’d left tied up at Ma’s. They were in the middle of the street, crossing right in front of him as if he didn’t exist, as if he was nothing. “How?”

  “Get them!” Now the Jap was excited.

  Horace jammed his foot to the floor. The back tires squealed on the wet pavement. The Jap screamed, an animal wail filling the van, like he was a karate guy charging an army.

  The women looked up and Horace hit them with his brights. Almost on top of them now. They jumped away, one going forward, the other jumping back as he plowed down on them. Horace screamed himself as he sped past, then he was braking, looking for a spot to turn around.

  “Are you okay?” Maggie called across the street. Gay had jumped back, was in front of Jonas’ battered VW.

  “Yeah.”

  The van’s tires screeched as its driver stomped on the brakes. No doubt in her mind as to who it was. It was the same black van Horace and Virgil had that night they’d chased her on this same beach. He was going to be coming back and fast.

  “Get down, play dead!” Maggie screamed.

  “What?”

  “Just do it!” Maggie ran across the street as Gay dropped to the pavement. “Get closer to the car. Stick your legs under it.”

  “What for?”

  “So he doesn’t run over you when he comes back.”

  “Swell.”

  “I’m gonna take off across the beach, lead them away from the apartment. When they come after me, you go up there and get the kids away. Hide.”

  “Where?”

  “Climb a fence, hide in someone’s backyard.”

  “This is a stupid plan.”

  “No time to argue.” Maggie dropped to her knees by Gay. She bent over her, as if examining her, pulled out the gun as the van spun around at the corner where the bay joined the ocean, tires sliding and squealing through a hundred and eighty degree turn.

  “Shit, he can drive,” Gay said.

  “Okay, here he comes.” Maggie got up. “I’m outta here. Good luck.” She took off at a dead run toward the pier.

  “There she goes.” The Japanese was hopping in his seat now, pointing toward the Twin who was running over the sand.

  “Deja-fucking-vu!” Horace cranked the wheel left and the van jumped the curb as if it wasn’t there. She got away from him before on this beach. She wasn’t going to do it again.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Gonna run her down.” The brights nailed her sure as a laser sight. Horace pulled the van down into low, insides tingling as it kicked in, but the wheels dug into the wet sand, shooting it out from the wheel wells.

  “What?” The Japanese screamed.

  “Stuck!” Horace pulled the trans into reverse and the tires spun in the other direction.

  “She’s getting away.” The Japanese was yelling into Horace’s ear like he was deaf or something.

  “Cool your jets!” Horace put it back into first, tried to ease out of the rut the tires had dug into, but couldn’t.

  “I can’t see her.” The Japanese fuck was out of Horace’s face now. He opened the door, jumped out.

  Horace jammed it into reverse, floored it. The engine screamed, the tires kicked wet sand six feet into the air, but he’d only dug himself in deeper.

  “Fuck!” Horace pulled it into park, pulled his door open, pulled out his gun and charged off into the rain. Anger raged through him. His head throbbed. Rain pelted him, a cold shower killing his sight. Straining, he barely saw the
Japanese bastard blundering ahead. Horace could only assume he had the Twin in sight. He had no choice. He charged after him.

  Rain soaked through Maggie’s clothes as she ran. The Olympic pool was between her and the street. A murky monolith cutting off the real world. She was running in a dark, alien place, where murder was the order of the day and death is king.

  She’d put on a burst of speed when the screaming truck jumped the curb, sprinting away from it. But all of a sudden she realized it had stopped. Had they given up? She stopped too, turned into the rain. She was drenched now, cold. Her lungs demanded air and she sucked it in, bent over, hands on her knees, like a baseball player in the infield waiting for a line drive, the only difference, she held a gun in her left hand instead of a mitt in the right.

  Then she saw him, short and squat, hulking out of the night. Scarface, a dark apparition, blurred by the sheeting rain. Ponytail’s revolver wasn’t like her Sigma automatic. It seemed too small, almost a toy. She snugged it up under curled fingers while the palm of her hand rested on a bent knee. She brought it up, fired at Scarface.

  She missed.

  Either it wasn’t as accurate as her Sigma or there was a trick to the revolver she didn’t know.

  But the gunshot didn’t even slow him down. He kept coming and now she saw someone behind him. Nighthyde, had to be. They seemed to be moving in slow motion as thoughts raced through her head. Fire again or wait and get a better shot? If the gun held six, she only had two left.

  Every fiber in her being said run. She took off toward the pier, running for all she was worth. It was close. Was it going to be her salvation or her tomb? She didn’t want to die. She had so much to live for, her unborn child, Jasmine. From deep inside she pulled out that extra bit of energy, that piece of heart she needed to increase her speed. She pumped her arms the way Olympic runners do to get their legs to match the killing rhythm.