Babychain Blues

by Tony Masero

  ‘So when they don’t find me there, they’ll come on here. Is that the plan?’

  Demus nodded.

  ‘Okay,’ said Cole, getting up. ‘On your feet, we’re going inside.’

  On their way up the steps, Cole picked up some baling wire lying on a plastic water barrel outside the door.

  When Demus was sitting in Caitlin’s chair and bound tightly to it with the wire, Cole turned to the girl.

  ‘How’re you making out?’ he asked her gently.

  She stared at the pistol in his hand and then up at him. ‘What’s going on, Cole? Demus never explained anything to me.’

  ‘Bad things are happening. Some very bad people are coming here. They’re coming after me. So we don’t have a lot of time and I want you to do what I say without any argument. Okay?’

  ‘But what….’ she started.

  ‘No time for explanations, honey. I want you to take Demus’ car and get out of here. I have some money to give you, and then you get as far away from here as you can. Okay?’

  ‘But I want to help you, Cole.’

  Cole shook his head, ‘There’s no way. I’ll deal with this, now come on outside a minute.’

  He led her by the arm back to the Dodge and gave her the package of cash. At the same time he lifted the rifle from the bed of the pickup.

  Caitlin bit her lip, ‘You going to use that?’ she asked.

  ‘If I have to. Thing is Caitlin, I want you safe and it’ll be difficult for me if I have to think about you as well. These people are bone bad, they will kill without thinking about it. I need you gone, you understand me?’

  She nodded dumbly, clutching the packet of money and staring at him. ‘What is this?’ she asked, pushing the pack forward.

  ‘A few grand to get you started in a new life. You can do that veterinarian course or take a travel degree, or something like that. Something you always wanted to do. I want the best for you, Caitlin. That’s why I got the cash. It’s for you.’

  ‘But why, Cole? Why’re you being so good to me?’

  ‘Not now, honey. Please, we don’t have time. I’ll explain it all later, when this is over.’

  ‘You promise?’

  He smiled and leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Sure, I do. Now, here’s Demus’ keys go take that heap of his and hit the road.’

  ‘What about my stuff?’

  ‘It’ll be here when you get back. Just not for a while, huh?’

  ‘Okay, Cole.’

  He watched her until she was in the El Camino and gave her a wave as she frowned at him through the car window. Then she was gone, chugging the motor and bouncing along the dusty track away. Cole breathed a sigh of relief then went back to the pickup drove it into the woods and out of sight then he took the carton of ammunition and carried it inside.

  Demus glowered at him from the easy chair.

  ‘Where’s Caitlin gone?’ he asked.

  ‘Away from you, buddy. Far away.’

  ‘I’ll find her,’ Demus swore.

  ‘You really are an ignorant ass, ain’t you?’ said Cole, shucking our shells from the box and loading the rifle. ‘You think she cares for you?’

  ‘She’s my girl,’ Demus spat.

  ‘That’s not what I asked. You think she cares? D’you reckon any girl’s going to like a fellow who cusses her out and beats on her all the time? You think that, you got a long way to go down the social skills road.’

  ‘She’s mine, I’m telling you,’ Demus shouted.

  ‘She’s nobody’s. You don’t own her, boy. She’s her own person and given half a chance she’ll make a real fine go of it.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ mumbled Demus.

  Cole raised the rifle and sighted through the scope, the black hole of the barrel-end pointed at Demus’ head.

  ‘Hey!’ said Demus, nervously. ‘What you aiming to do?’

  ‘Nothing to you right now,’ smiled Cole. ‘You just set still; I’ve got some things to arrange. Have to see our visitors get a warm welcome, don’t we?’

  And with that, he was gone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cole stood a moment outside considering.

  The day was going and it wouldn’t be too long before night came on. Maybe he had time.

  He eyed the skyline and studied the lie of the land, looking up at the dark forested hill beyond the pasture above and then the surrounding woods and undergrowth. Mentally he mapped out the area, deciding on lines of fire and cover. When he was satisfied it was clear in his mind he went into the generator shed. He found a stagnant tin of old sump oil in there and began to rub it over his face, covering the pale skin under an oily mask of black. As he did so, Cole tried to put on another mask also, to move his mind back to the man he had been. The killing machine that took out whatever objective he was handed. That old personality lived in him still, yet lay hidden under over twenty years of civilization. It was a thing he had worked on shedding ever since first coming across baby Caitlin when everything had changed for him. Now, he found he was an upright citizen who needed to discard that cloak of humanity again, shed it as if it had never have existed and take on the old armor of a warrior once more.

  Hoisting two cans of gasoline he carried them out and placed one on each side of the incoming track, each can’s position marked by a broken branch he pressed upright into the soil. There was a gas bottle for the camping cooker inside the kitchen and as Demus called out desperate queries from the living room, Cole ignored him and removed the rubber hose setting the bottle under the porch steps and tying a twist of white paper to the top to make it visible in the shadows.

  Taking an old brown blanket from Caitlin’s bedroom, he climbed the hill and picked out his target bases and moved accordingly. Sighting through the scope, he mapped his range and set down to wait. He made a last check of his weapons. Seeing that the rifle mag had its full five rounds and that he had enough spare ammunition in his pockets. He made sure the Colt was fully loaded and ready to go.

  The afternoon wore on. Flies and bugs pestered him in the dying day but Cole hardly noticed them. He was still and had moved himself into his old waiting mode.

  Wrapping the blanket over himself, Cole lay down at the edge of the tree line and three-quarters of the way up the hill. He could feel the evening chill settle over him as the sun died and he consciously chose to ignore it. He kept brush on either side with enough space to swivel the rifle at a hundred and eighty degree angle. The grass was tall and it was a problem as he would have to lift himself above it to fire but he hoped the cover afforded by the blanket would keep him from sight. He wished he had his old ghillie suit, the mat of mock grass that snipers wore and made them almost invisible as long as they were still.

  Cole was worried about Martha. Right now she was probably waiting for him at the diner with their new car and he hoped she would stay there and not come looking for him. If she did it was a sure thing that she would run into Penevale and his crew.

  He was glad Caitlin had made it away though, and glad that he had had the opportunity to bid her farewell. With a touch of sadness, Cole considered that he probably wouldn’t make it and maybe it was the last time he would ever see her again but he felt confident that Martha would make sure his wishes were carried out and that Caitlin would be looked after.

  As the sun went below the skyline, Cole slid his hand along the long running stock of the rifle; this early model’s stock had been manufactured all in wood and had proved problematic when faced with shifts in variable weather conditions. Ultimately the difficulty forced the Marine Corps modifiers at Quantico to change it later for a fiberglass stock. Aside from that he had not been able to check the accuracy of the scope and knew how easily they could take a knock and go askew. Lord knows how long the thing had been stuck in a cupboard and how it had been treated over the years. Bit like himself, he thought half-jokingly, stuck in a cupboard and knocked about a bit.

  But that was partly why he had placed t
he gasoline cans where he had; the scope was a daylight version and not much use without some form of lighting.

  He heard the sound of motors and looked up to see wavering headlights approaching over the track and coming towards the house below.

  Two cars, the leader a heavy-set Chevy Tracker in black, behind came a Ford Explorer and both cars approached hesitantly with main beams on as if they were unsure of the way.

  They pulled up and dust followed them from the track, swirling pale in the headlight beams.

  Cole nestled the cheek guard in and sighted, he had the car lights to help him now and he picked out one of his marker branches, and then followed it down to its base. As figures exited the front SUV and the doors slammed shut, he fired.

  There was a bloom of glaring light and a following jet of billowing flame leapt up into the night sky. For a minute everything was bathed in a yellowish glow and Cole counted the startled figures beside the Chevy.

  Two men, one of them big muscled, whom he recognized from the TV program as Gil Gurns. The other had a ring of white hair around his bald dome and he guessed this must be Buck Newton.

  Both men had drawn handguns and were crouching and staring wildly into the darkness. Behind them from the far side of the vehicle, Cole saw Carlo cautiously poke his head out. Grimly, Cole sighted on the head just visible around the front screen of the car. In the reticule, the face looked shocked and surprised, the eyes wide in the glare from the blazing gasoline.

  It took only a moment’s consideration.

  Cole was no longer climbing a mountain of morality. He received his directions from a more primitive authority. In the same way he had obeyed his superiors in the past he now flicked the switch and followed the dictums set inside his head. His moral compass was set in one direction only and that was towards his own survival.

  Cole levered himself up for a better angle and as the rear car doused its headlights, he fired. The big-barreled M40 was good for a thousand yards and this was well within its range. Cole saw Carlo’s head snap back and knew the 7.62 mm round had made short work of the man as a puff of dark matter flew from the back of his target’s head and Carlo rocked on his heels then sagged lifeless and dropped from sight.

  Cole slid back the bolt and shucked another round into the chamber, turning back to the other two. Both men were running for cover now and firing their weapons as they ran. Cole could hear the bullets cutting into the trees above his head and knew they only had an approximation of his position and that their wild firing was going way too high.

  The second car was backing up rapidly, churning dust as it went. Cole changed direction and sighted on the second gasoline can, which was now in clear view as the car moved away. Expanding gas from his rifle sent the shell on its way and a second plume of flame lit the night as the can exploded, spreading searing streams of burning gasoline in a spray across the ground, which looked to Cole like the vivid splash from a napalm bomb.

  Ducking back into the trees, Cole made off for his next sighted position, the blanket slipping forgotten from his shoulders. He ran at a half crouch through the brush until he reached the spot, then he dropped down.

  He could hear the two men shouting to each other as they ran towards the house. From inside the faint voice of Demus could be heard raised to a high pleading pitch of terror.

  Coldly, Cole sighted on the white paper glimmer visible under the porch steps.

  He waited patiently. Scurrying, the two figures below flickered fast through the blazing pools of gasoline. Then, as the white haired figure reached the steps, Cole fired.

  He saw wood shatter in a cloud of splinters at the running man’s feet as he stepped up on the porch steps.

  A miss.

  Cole eased the bolt back and reloaded. Couching the rifle, he expelled his breath slowly and as Buck reached the screen door he fired again.

  With a tremendous roar the gas cylinder exploded. The stairway shot skywards and the front wall to the kitchen was ripped apart and imploded in a noisy heap of dusty planking. In the midst of the bright flash and flying debris Buck was blown high into the air by the force of the blast. His body tumbled, turning and spinning as it reached its apogee then fell back down to earth. He dropped heavily and bounced on the hard earth. Making no move the body lay still.

  Five. Cole mentally counted his expended ammunition. He reloaded as he searched for a new target through the reticule but there was no one is sight. Gil had disappeared.

  The front of Caitlin’s house was blazing, the dry timber frame catching alight quickly. The sound of Demus’ begging voice came louder in a series of terrified screams as he smelt the burning wood and saw flames beginning to send a glow into the living room where he was bound and trapped. Cole could hear him thumping around inside as he desperately tried to drag the heavy easy chair outside.

  Cole panned the scope around searching for the occupants of the second car but they had withdrawn into the darkness and he could see no sign of the vehicle in the blackness. Cole fired three rapid shots in the direction they had gone hoping for a lucky hit if they hovered in the darkness. The blazing fires before the house were blinding him to the shadowed areas beyond and he decided it was time to move and make his way down nearer to his prey.

  He began to feel bad about the pitiful whining of Demus inside; even if the boy managed to drag himself to the lounge doorway there was a near impossibility of passing the bulky chair through. It was no way to die, even for a mean little fool like Demus.

  Cole reached to lower edge of the trees and determined to make his way across through the gully lined with rubbish that backed the house. He guessed that Penevale must be in the Ford that had backed into the darkness, probably with Abe Bones by his side. One shot was all he needed and if he could reach the far side of the house he could disappear in the shadows and if Penevale had not retreated completely he would nail him and finish it.

  He was half way along the gully, the rifle across his back hanging by the shoulder strap when a dark shape rose out of the blackness and barreled into him. The body came with such force and was of such weight that Cole was thrown onto his back amongst the discarded junk filling the gully. The rifle saved him from serious damage from the jagged items lying there but by the dim light, Cole saw Gil Gurns rear up above him with the glint of a revolver in his hand.

  Cole could not get to the rifle on his back and he lashed out with his boots, connecting with Gil’s ankle. The big man grunted, shook, but did not fall. He fired and his pistol flared in the darkness, dazzling Cole for a moment but the bullet whined past and buried itself in the rubbish to his side.

  Cole’s scrabbling hands found a length of tubing; he remembered it was old water pipe he had removed from Caitlin’s shower. The tube was still encased in balls of cement and rusted fastenings. He lashed out and caught Gil’s silhouette a savage blow on the upper thigh. The bulk of the big man was tremendous and he only grunted in pain at the attack and tilted to one side but still did not fall.

  Cole pushed himself to his feet. In the darkness he could see Gil’s bared teeth shining in the shadows as he overcame the pain and limped forward again.

  ‘I owe you for a lot of years, Junger,’ he grunted, raising the pistol.

  Cole swung again, like a batter, and the pipe slammed into Gil’s hand sending the pistol flying away into the blackness.

  There was a flash of light behind them as a rear window in the kitchen exploded and a sheet of flame and shards of glass flew out.

  The momentary distraction was enough for Cole to swing the rifle clear of his shoulder. He held it waist high and leveled at Gil. The big man moved a step forward and Cole fired, letting the bullet wing past Gil’s head as a warning shot.

  ‘You’re right,’ Cole said. ‘I do owe you. Apologies are not enough to cut it, I know.’

  ‘I got a dead partner that’s down to you. Randy died in prison and he didn’t deserve to.’

  Cole compressed his lips, the man was right. There was no doub
t he had been dead wrong in every part of the whole affair but there was little he could do now except maybe let the man live. He whirled the rifle around like a club and the butt smacked against the side of Gil’s head. Gil’s muscle did not extend to his skull and the lights went out for him instantly and he collapsed to the ground in a heavy tumble.

  Cole hesitated, should he make it final? He raised the rile butt for a killing blow, then hung his head and found he could not bring himself to smash the big man’s brains out. Gil was not at fault and he had suffered enough on Cole’s behalf.

  Feeling the encroaching heat, Cole turned and looked up at the building behind. The roof was alight now and the flames spinning high into the night sky amidst a swirling pillar of sparks. No more sound was coming from Demus inside and the only noise he could hear was the roar of the fire.

  Cole looped away and sloped off along the gully making for the far end of the house.

  He had reached the corner of the building when he heard a high-pitched female scream.

  Cole dropped to the ground and snaked clear of the blazing structure. His old leg wound was troubling his now with all the exertion but he ignored it and worked his way steadily clear.

  ‘Come on out, Junger. I got somebody here we met on the road and she wants to say hello.’

  It was Abe Bones and before him he held a squirming Caitlin. One brawny arm was around her throat and over her shoulder he held aimed the steel outline of a MAC 10 machine pistol.

  Abe and Caitlin were visible standing at the fringes of the light from the fire, Abe’s black face merely a shadow amongst the shadows.

  ‘Let her go right now, Abe. Or you’re a dead man,’ Cole called and Abe swung around the defensive frame of Caitlin’s body to face the sound of Cole’s voice.

  ‘Just you get out here,’ growled Abe. ‘It’s over if you want to see this girl live.’ He positioned the MAC’s suppressor against Caitlin’s head pressing it into her temple.

  Cole sighted. He could see Caitlin’s face clearly in the reticule. There were tears marking her cheek and Abe’s tight grasp was obviously making it hard for her to breath.