Cooch

by Robert Cook

  “Nice try,” he said. “But I still got it. And I still got you. But I know who you are.”

  Alex waited.

  “I’m tempted,” Dodd said. “You know we can’t just let you go. What happens if we just waste you now? No fuss. You know I got you, don’t you? And there’s twenty of us.”

  Cuchulain nodded. “You have me. I might not even get you. But I probably would. Probably Billy too, and three or four others when I take your gun. For sure I wouldn’t get all of you.”

  Dodd smiled faintly. “And?”

  “And you get everyone here dead. Fast. No cops. No jury. Just dead. Probably more than a bit of pain for you, if it’s convenient. But dead.”

  “By?” Dodd asked.

  Cuchulain smiled. Now he had Dodd. “The Horse, Jerome Masterson, lives in town here,” he said. “You know about him and me, and the folks that the two of us know well. Lieutenant Elliot is here too. He owes me from a Middle East operation. You just might know him.”

  Dodd shifted as memory rushed in. “Yeah, Lebanon. You saved his ass. I missed that one. Lieutenant Elliot, huh? He ain’t no prize; he’s meaner than a fuckin’ cottonmouth.” He looked around at the gang. They were getting restless and stealing glances at Caitlin’s bare breasts, thinking about their turns.

  “Okay, I’m in,” he said softly to Cuchulain. “But I don’t think they’re going to buy it—won’t believe me. We may have to kill some—probably will. Shit!” He raised his eyebrows in a question.

  “Try to sell us walking. If it won’t go, sell the arm wrestling. Lacking that, I’ll take the Colt from the guy behind you and we’ll nail eight or ten. After I kill Billy, go to one knee and work from the right. Head shots. Killing a few more should end it, and the cops will be here by then. That should end it. I’ll handle the mess. Anyone looking for you?”

  “The cops in a few cities have my prints and would like to find me. Same with DEA. You sure about the arm wrestling? There’s some big fuckers here, and I don’t want the shooting to start.”

  Cuchulain nodded. “Sell it.”

  Dodd shifted back slightly, turning to the group, keeping his right arm hanging down and slightly behind him.

  “Listen up, guys!” he said. “I know about this guy. A lot of Seals say that he’s the baddest motherfucker that ever lived, and you guys know there’s a bunch of mean motherfuckers among us. He is truly a badass.”

  Alex stepped back a little, as he chose his target if the balloon went up. He’d need a gun and shifted slightly toward a fat, bearded man with the checkered wooden grips of a Colt .45 automatic sticking up from his belt. The hammer was down and the thumb safety on; Alex would have the gun and take out his throat before the man could ever get his gun into action.

  “Our lives won’t be worth a shit if we don’t let him and her go,” Dodd said. “Trust me on that. And if we kill him, ten or fifteen bodaciously bad guys are coming for us. Gloves off. They wouldn’t dream of using their fists if they could easier shoot or knife you in the back. They’ll have machine guns, explosives, sniper rifles—all that shit. It won’t be pretty, and none of us will live through it. For sloppy sevenths on a piece of ass? And can you imagine the fucking cops? They’re already like flies on shit around here!”

  “That’s bullshit!” Billy bellowed. “I told her what I was going to do and I’m gonna do it! This is prime pussy, and that pansy don’t look so bad to me. If I wasn’t fucked up from spilling my bike the other day, I’d take him myself. You don’t run this fuckin’ gang, Dodd, I do!”

  Dodd sighed as some of the men nodded at Billy’s speech. “Look, Billy, there’s a bunch of us that don’t want to see the cops or the feds up close. You’re left handed. Why don’t you arm wrestle him for it? You’re messed up for a fight, but there’s nothing wrong with your left arm. Besides, no one has ever beaten you but Bubba, and no one beats Bubba. We’re getting enough shit from the cops already. It wouldn’t be good for business.”

  Billy looked startled, and then the ends of his lips curled up in a cruel, wolfish smile. “Fuck that! He said he wants two at once, and I want the girl. He gets Bubba and Kevin while me and One-Eye take a rest so’s we have lots of energy for later. Whichever one slams the pansy’s arm down first gets seconds on the pussy after me. The loser gets the second blow job.”

  Dodd took control quickly. “Deal! Let’s get a table cleared and some chairs over here.”

  Alex jerked his tie down and unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt, giving him access to the throwing knife that always hung at his back, just below his collar. If things went bad, Billy would find himself with it buried in his throat. Cuchulain pulled his jacket off and threw it over a chair backed to the wall and stood, casually rolling his shirtsleeves, waiting and assessing the crowd for the ones who could be trouble. Caitlin watched him, her eyes wide and her jaw hanging slack, oblivious of her naked breasts.

  Alex moved his chair across the wall to the table and waited. Bubba and Kevin brought out chairs and sat down, grinning at Cuchulain. Bubba had long, shaggy hair and a ragged beard, tangled with the remnants of the past few days’ meals. He was well over six feet and enormously fat, probably weighing upward of three hundred pounds. He put a huge arm on the table, hawked his throat, and spat a brownish wad of phlegm on Alex’s shirt, just splattering the edge of his tie. There was a large tattoo on the inside of Bubba’s huge forearm that spelled out “Eat Shit!” in Old English letters. Kevin was a bodybuilder, and a big one. He had acne and his hair was sparse, but steroids had given him enviable bulk.

  Alex dropped into the chair and put his upper arms on the table, with his veined and pulsing forearms vertical and shoulder width apart. Then he began to focus his energy. He felt his local awareness fade as he focused his conscious being into a core of energy just beneath his navel, feeling as if each molecule of his being was rushing to one central repository, then waiting to be dispatched. The sound of his breath whistled even louder through his nose.

  “Okay,” Dodd said. “Get them lined up, and I’m going to count to three. On three, go for it.”

  Alex was barely aware as Kevin and Bubba lined up. As they each clasped a hand and bore down with their grip, Cuchulain was only peripherally aware that he was countering their force. He heard Dodd at a distance, say, “One, two…” Cuchulain released his energy just before Dodd said “three,” driving every ounce of his being into his hands in a single, furious contraction. He felt both their hands collapse, then yield under his sudden onslaught; the sound of snapping bones could be heard in the room. Alex slammed both their hands across his chest to the table and stood, then casually grabbed Bubba by the front of his hair and smashed his face into the table, twice. It had taken less than ten seconds. He folded his jacket over his arm.

  “I think we will be leaving now, gentlemen,” he said, and turned toward Caitlin.

  “You cheated,” one biker yelled. “You went before three!”

  “Sit down, asshole,” Cuchulain said coldly. “You go on three and I’ll go on six. Then I’ll rip your arm off at the shoulder.”

  “Fuck you,” the biker yelled. “Why don’t you just get the hell out of here?”

  Alex nodded and walked swiftly toward Caitlin. The gang was momentarily stunned by the vision of Kevin and Bubba still at the table, each holding a mangled hand, moaning softly as the swelling started and blood began to pool around Bubba’s twitching face.

  “Bullshit!” Billy yelled as he stepped in front of Cuchulain, pulling his fist back. Cuchulain stepped in quickly and used his huge neck to slam his forehead into Billy’s nose and eyes; he felt nose and cheekbones collapse and eye sockets crack and crumble an instant later. The web of his left hand slammed into Billy’s Adam’s apple and his thumb closed on the carotid artery, shutting off the blood supply to his brain. Cuchulain drove his right hand deep into Billy’s crotch, squeezing his penis and testicles through his jeans. He began to rip, focusing on delivering all the power he could generate. The sound of
denim tearing pierced the silent room.

  As Alex felt resistance there collapse, he began to twist as he squeezed, feeling flesh and tendons ripping and releasing. As Billy lost consciousness, Cuchulain bent his knees to lower him to the floor, his head up as he watched the gang. When he stood, he was holding Billy’s pistol. The snap of the safety being released by Cuchulain’s right thumb was eerily loud in the room. He worked the slide on the automatic once, and a cartridge tumbled noisily across the dirty floor. He turned and reached for Caitlin, looking coldly at the two men holding her, who stepped back quickly. Cuchulain draped his jacket over her shoulders and led her to the door. He nodded at Dodd just before he stepped out and pulled the door closed.

  Outside, Cuchulain stepped hard on the inert guard’s neck as he grabbed Caitlin’s arm and guided her. He engaged the safety on Billy’s pistol and slid it behind his belt at the small of his back. They were almost at a run as they left the alley and moved down the street and around the corner, Cuchulain waving to an approaching cab with its “on duty” light on. He opened the door and pushed her inside, almost roughly, then moved in beside her. He gave the cabbie his home address, then put his arm around Caitlin. She was already shaking, and her teeth were beginning to chatter.

  “Just take it easy,” he said. “It’s over now. We’re going to my place.”

  “No, I want to go back to my room. I want to be alone!”

  Cuchulain shook his head and turned to her on the ragged seat. “Listen to me, Caitlin. This is the worst possible time for you to be alone. You could go into shock. Someone has to keep an eye on you, and that’s going to be me. We’re going to my place.”

  “I am in no mood for romance, Cuchulain. Okay?” she chattered.

  “I promise,” he said.

  They took the elevator to his apartment. It was sparsely but expensively furnished, with the look of a place done by a decorator and seldom touched since. The exception was two floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of volumes and a small desk that held a dual computer setup with neatly stacked papers around it. A large oil painting on the living room wall depicted a group of fishermen in a traditional boat, pulling in nets at sunrise under the shaded mass of Gibraltar. On the stand beside a reclining reading chair was a worn leather-bound copy of the Quran with a yellowed ivory bookmark placed partway through.

  Cuchulain led her to the couch and said, “I’ll get some blankets and make some tea. Tea’s good in this situation. Maybe a drink later.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. “A drink now! A big drink!”

  He walked quickly to the bedroom and came back with two wool blankets and a towel. He wrapped the blankets around her, tucking them tight, then smoothed the towel across her lap, pushing a little dent in the middle. Caitlin seemed a little startled and curious by the towel, but said nothing.

  “I’ll get the drinks,” Alex said.

  He came back with two glasses of cognac and the bottle. “Sip this,” he said, handing her one glass with a light portion of cognac poured into it. He sat beside her and sipped on his own glass, waiting for her to give him a hint as to how to distract her from the evening’s events.

  Caitlin tipped up her glass and drained it, then shuddered. “Oh, my God, Alex. I’m still terrified,” she said, shaking. “I’ve never been that afraid before, or that furious. I’m also sorry I didn’t kick that asshole in the balls as we walked out! That was just awful! I hate that those animals exist.”

  “They’ve been around since the beginning, Caitlin. Society just doesn’t let them out that often, at least in this country,” Alex said, happy she had picked a topic familiar to him. “More of them were in Nazi Germany, Kosovo, and Bosnia-Herzegovina lately than elsewhere, but they’re always around. There’s still a bunch in the Middle East.”

  “With all of our technology and power, why can’t we just get rid of people like that?” Caitlin fumed.

  “I’ve thought a lot about that,” Alex said. “I don’t know of a politician, alive or dead, that could be trusted with the power to accomplish that, if even we could do it. Politicians are, by my definition, megalomaniacs to some degree, and most of them care only about money and votes. Those bikers tonight were one form of villain, but religious fanatics are worse, because they think they can both interpret and enforce the word and the will of God—to their personal benefit, of course. I think we should just kill the leaders of those sociopaths, one by one. Their followers will disappear with no piper to follow.”

  Caitlin snorted. “I don’t think they know the first thing about God, or what she thinks!” she said, throwing up suddenly, and barely catching the foul mass in the towel on her lap.

  “Sorry,” she said. “That came from nowhere. Gross!”

  Cuchulain held his hands in front of her so she could see them shaking. “It’s part of the adrenaline depletion. Try to relax and take your mind away from tonight. It will make things seem more normal, and you’ll recover faster. It happens to everyone. This is what happens when you’re scared, and I was scared too.”

  He sat for a few seconds sipping his drink, then started to push the conversation back to something distracting. “I sometimes have nightmares about Torquemada returning in modern form,” he said. “People should study the Spanish Inquisition to see what happens when vast power is granted to religious fanatics. It’s a shame no one killed him early.”

  “So, if you’ve thought about this a lot, what’s the right answer?” she asked, studying him, still shaking.

  “Darned if I know,” he chuckled. “I guess if I’ve reached any tentative conclusion at all, it’s that we should worry about our own country first, and then the others—and pick off the bad guys’ leaders, one at a time. Without us the world could once again become a real cesspool—and quickly. It’s happening slowly anyhow, it seems to me.”

  The images of the evening suddenly came back to Caitlin. She turned quickly to Cuchulain, the blanket falling from her shoulders. She pulled his jacket around her ripped blouse. “When you came through that door, I was so proud of you for coming in there to defend me from those animals, but I knew you were going to be hurt very badly, if not killed. I don’t even want to think about all of those fucking vermin above me, humping and pumping, one after the other. How did you know what to do? Your behavior seemed so bizarre, but it worked!”

  He sat for a second and took another sip of his cognac. “Bizarre behavior freaks people out and limits what they think they can do. I stunned them with it until I lucked out enough to find a guy who knew me a little; my face change helps to create bizarre when I’m excited.”

  Caitlin sat silent for several moments, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, still shivering. “Yes, you looked like a fucking snake, and I hate snakes! But how did he know you? Who are you that he said, and I quote, ‘He is the baddest motherfucker in the whole world’?”

  Alex sat silent for a while, then said, “I was an active marine for quite a while—eight years, in fact. I told you about it, briefly. I was good at it. Dodd had been a Navy Seal, and he just knew me, or knew about me. I have unusually strong hands, as you saw, and that kind of word gets around.”

  She sat thinking for a while longer, as the shivering subsided. She took the bottle from the table, poured another full glass of cognac, and drank half of it.

  “I thought I was going to be humiliated and debased. I was terrified—I was consumed with fury! I wanted so badly to kill them, but had no way to do it. They are such a bunch of worthless pigs! And then you came in—and I was afraid for you. But I didn’t need to be, did I Alex? That reptilian little man was afraid of you, wasn’t he? You had it under control, didn’t you?”

  Alex sighed, and said, “No, Caitlin. I didn’t have it under control. I just worked with what I had, and I got lucky. But thank you for being afraid for me. It could have gotten very ugly, very quickly.”

  “And that little man wasn’t afraid of you?”

  “He was wary, not a
fraid. He had heard about me when he was a Seal. Because of what he had heard, he believed what I told him, and didn’t like the odds.”

  “Jesus Christ!” she said. “You told him Brooks Elliot and some horse person would kill them all if they didn’t let us go. And he believed you! Was it true?”

  Alex gave the shrug she had seen before. “Who knows? They probably would have tried, and I can’t imagine that a bunch of hoods like that would have stood much of a chance against them. Dodd knew that.”

  “Who the hell are you, Cuchulain? You force your way into my life, and I think that you’re a nice, good-natured guy with a great body and a good mind, who happens to own a bunch of my stock. And God, I was worried you were a fucking wimp! You’re clearly a lot more than that, and a lot of what you seem to be is disturbing to me. I didn’t even know that people like you existed; you were like an animal, and your face got spooky—not that I wasn’t glad to have you there tonight, but God, you’re not what I thought. You were probably some kind of killer or something, trained by the government, and Brooks was probably one too. Again, who the hell are you?”

  And how did you get this way? she asked herself.

  Audley, South Carolina

  Twenty Years Earlier

  NOOOOO! Cuchulain’s mind screamed. He’s such a butthole.

  Alex was sprawled on the porch swing of his parent’s house, thumbing through a hot rod magazine and enjoying the first warm day of spring in Audley. The window to the living room was open behind him, and he heard his mother and his older sister, Elena, walk into the room, deep into conversation.

  “His name is Junior Harris, and he’s the captain of the football team!” Elena said. “He’s supposed to pick me up at six thirty. We’re going a little early to help with the decorations in the gym.” They started to jabber excitedly about what Elena was going to wear.

  Alex thought that Junior Harris was maybe the biggest asshole in the entire high school, and worse, he was fairly sure that someone had said Harris had a regular girlfriend. Harris and Elena were seniors at Audley High. As a sophomore, Alex didn’t run in their circles.