Secret Society

by Stuart R. West

  Cody remained quiet during their long trek through California. He appeared serene, at peace with himself, a lazy satisfaction suggesting post-coital afterglow.

  Nearing Utah, he turned to Leon and muttered, “Yo…sorry.”

  “What?”

  “You know. For doing Wyngarden before you got everything you wanted from him. So, you know, sorry.”

  It’d been the first time they talked about it and the first indication Cody even recalled killing Wyngarden. Leon nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m sorry, too, Cody.”

  * * *

  Leon sat at the hotel room table cleaning dried blood off Wyngarden’s laptop. A photograph of a large Burmese cat stared from the screen, probably the only thing Wyngarden loved in his miserable life. A lifestyle of loneliness seemed destined for every member and associate of LMI. The way it had to be.

  Wyngarden’s password encryption proved too much for Leon to bypass. One simple word or phrase kept him from the secrets and agendas of LMI. With a world full of hackers, though, it didn’t concern him too much. He had time.

  The computer, of course, made him an even bigger threat to LMI. Bring it. He felt like a different man, ready for their war. They changed him, not for the better. No matter what it took, his new “work” would be devoted to bringing them to their knees. And why not? LMI were the worst abusers—bullies of the corporate world. They lied, manipulated, and turned Leon into a murderer of at least one innocent man. All in the name of money and power—the American Dream.

  Cody lay on the bed next to his. He finally gave in to sleep, the first time since they set out. His hair unruly and an arm out-stretched, he looked like any slumbering child finding blissful peace from the harsh reality of the world. Hardly the face of a maniac who tried to saw a man’s head off with a letter opener.

  Leon faced a difficult choice.

  But sometimes when a dog goes rabid, he had to be put down. No matter how fond a person had grown of him.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long to demolish their lunches in the Colorado hamburger joint parking lot. They hadn’t eaten much since their road trip began.

  Cody ogled the pretty waitress making her rounds amongst the cars. “So, what’s up next with you, yo?”

  “I’m going to finish the job we started. I’m bringing LMI down.”

  “How ya gonna’ do that? I mean, we pretty much destroyed their headquarters. What else is there to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I think I’ll lay low for a while. Go somewhere far away. Hide out. See what I can find out on the computer.” Leon dabbed his mouth with a paper napkin, realized how raw his skin felt after all the beatings he’d been served. The pain just now caught up to him. “Once I formulate a plan, I’m gonna’ get them.”

  “Yeah, your plans really worked out last time.”

  “We did our best. And I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

  “What can I say, yo? I’m a goddamn warrior.”

  “Yeah, you are.” Until his horrific murder of Wyngarden, Cody had handled himself well under pressure, no doubt about it. He thought fast on his feet, utilizing makeshift weapons, saving their lives on more than one occasion.

  “I need more chow.” Cody punched the speaker button and ordered. “Look at that sweet thing.” He sat up, clinging to the steering wheel and leering at the carhop. His restless behavior reminded Leon of a prisoner allowed a conjugal visit for the first time.

  “So, what are you going to do, Cody?”

  “I told you. I’m goin’ back to Kansas, gettin’ my shit. See what happens.”

  Leon sighed. “And I told you it’s a bad idea. They’re going to be looking for you. Waiting for you, both LMI, and the police. You—”

  “I can take care of myself. They ain’t caught me yet.”

  “Cody—”

  “Mind’s made up.”

  “Don’t even think about staying in Kansas.”

  “Shut the hell up, already. I’m gonna’ do what I’m gonna’ do.” The waitress strolled up carrying a tray. Cody draped his arms out the window, a dog trying to escape a locked car. “Hello again.”

  “Hi, that’ll be five dollars and ninety-seven cents.”

  “I’d love to give you a personal tip later. Too bad I ain’t stayin’ around.” He handed her a ten-dollar bill, pulled it back, and then tucked it into her hand. “Keep the change, sweet thing.”

  “Too bad for you.” Smiling, she dragged a finger across Cody’s arm. She left although not before tossing Cody another smile over her shoulder.

  Cody leaned over the steering wheel watching her. “Goddamn. I sure would like to—” He shut up, but Leon knew exactly what he wanted to do. Like an addict, Cody lusted for his next fix.

  * * *

  Once they crossed the border into Kansas, Leon’s plan began to take shape. And it tore him up with guilt.

  “Cody, remember when we first met? At the Barton Mall?”

  “What, you gettin’ all weepy on me?”

  “Just seems like a long time ago, that’s all.” Leon stared out at the brown flat lands, the greenery hibernating for the winter. “Based on our first meeting, I never thought we’d work together. We made a pretty good team.”

  “Yeah, we kicked ass.”

  “Guess we did.” The sky darkened, blue and gray clouds rolling in. “Do you always find your victims at malls?”

  “Yeah. I usually find a bitch there and either take her in the lot or follow her home. Depends on what the parking lot situation’s like.”

  “Where’d you get the damn head, by the way? The one you put in my refrigerator. Barton Mall?”

  “Yeah.” Cody chuckled. “Sorry about that, yo. Nothin’ personal.”

  “Nothing personal,” Leon murmured. Large snowflakes began to drift down, vanishing on the warm windshield. “I guess the Barton Mall’s an ideal place for what you do.”

  “Whaddaya’ mean?”

  “Well, there aren’t any security cameras in the parking lots. The people who shop there seem fairly affluent.” Leon turned in his seat to hammer home his selling point. “And lots of mothers shop there.” A cruel, manipulative trick but completely necessary to light Cody’s fuse. Now Leon would wait for the inevitable explosion.

  “Yeah, lots of those bitches there.”

  “Anyway, the Barton Mall. If my projects were mothers, that’s definitely where I’d go. It’s perfect.”

  “Just drop it already. Goddamn!”

  Snow gathered on the fields beside them as they drove on.

  * * *

  By the time they pulled into the Olathe, Kansas hotel parking lot, the snowstorm had kicked up a notch. The roads were treacherous, packed down, and slicker than black ice.

  Cody kept the car idling, a cloud of exhaust coughing out behind them.

  “Well, I guess this is it.” Although Leon disliked shaking hands, he proffered his hand to Cody. He’d earned it.

  Cody nearly crushed Leon’s hand within his. “Later.”

  “Cody, you’re not thinking about taking on a new project…especially at the Barton Mall, are you?” Although part of Leon’s plan, doubts still festered. He wanted to talk sense into Cody, reason with him. As unlikely as that seemed.

  “How many times I gotta’ tell you? I do what I want.”

  “I’m not telling you what to do. Just call me…concerned. The police have to be looking for us now. And who knows about LMI?”

  “Tough shit. My mind’s made up. How I roll.”

  Leon nodded resignedly. “Fair enough, but, whatever you do, don’t go back for your work tools from your van or apartment. If the police haven’t found ‘em yet, I’m sure LMI gathered them as soon as we left Kansas. They still want to keep their existence a secret.”

  “I’m not stupid, yo. I don’t need my stuff to make a kill.” Cody studied his hands, working his fingers as if in anticipation. “Quit being my dad!”

  “I’m not old enough to be your father.”
<
br />   “The hell you’re not, old man. You got hard decades on me.”

  “Yeah, and you’re still in diapers. If you must know, I recently turned forty-two.”

  “See? What’d I tell you, old man? You’re older than the hills. Way old enough to be my father.”

  “Maybe if I slept with your mother when I was a baby.” Their laughter died as abruptly as everything in Leon’s world did. Leon slid out, his feet sinking into the snow. Before he shut the door, he poked his head back in the car. “Cody…come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Just…come with me. Please!” One last chance. One desperate last chance. Leon pitied Cody; hated himself for what he had to do. Maybe—just maybe—if he convinced Cody to go with him, he might...what, exactly? “I can help you.”

  Cody shook his head. “Nobody can help me.”

  “Just come with me! We can figure it out—”

  “I don’t need any fuckin’ help. I’ve done fine on my own! That’s the way it’s been. Always will be.”

  No use. He’s past reason. “Goodbye, Cody.” Leon closed the door. Cody spun into the snow-covered street, vanishing into the early afternoon storm. A swirl of emotions spun through Leon, but he couldn’t take the time to dwell. Work called.

  * * *

  Rachel was home, her car in the driveway. Leon parked his new Toyota at the end of her street and killed the engine.

  He shouldn’t be here. Didn’t know why he drove here, really, barely remembered the trip. Several times he reached for his phone. Reason shut him down. Better for her—for him—if he left her alone. But one last chance to hear her voice again? To see her? He’d risk a life in prison.

  Three inches of snow covered the ground, more expected by night’s end. Leon ran his wipers every few minutes for a chance sighting of Rachel. Unlikely though in this weather.

  Just as he prepared to leave, Rachel’s porch light flashed on, a small yellow ray of hope in the blinding whiteness of the storm. She stepped out in a weather-equipped jogging suit, her newly adopted dog pouncing along on a leash. Leon slipped down in his seat and cleared his windshield again. Using his phone, he snapped several photos as she ran into the street. The dog kept up with her, looking much healthier than the last time he saw it. She held her head high, chin up, basking in the winter weather as flakes melted on her cheeks.

  Before reason intervened again—before she disappeared around the bend of the road—Leon called. She stopped, ankle-deep in snow.

  “Hello?”

  He wanted—needed—to speak to her. Needed to know how she’s doing. Wondered if she hated him. So many things to say, nothing he could say. His words lodged in his throat like a dry piece of chicken.

  “Hello?” she repeated. “Who is this?” Her voice dropped. “Owen?” A hopeful whisper. Leon bit down on his lip, hoping to numb his emotional pain. “Owen? Is it you? Owen…if it’s you…I want you to know…I believe you. I know—Detective Sidarski knows—it wasn’t you who…killed Travis…” Small sobs pierced her voice, pins of pain in a cushion. “I just don’t understand why you vanished. Owen…please talk to me. Owen?”

  Leon hung up as quietly as possible. He shut his eyes, forcing her out of his mind, pushing what could have been into the realm of impossibility. She still had a chance at happiness. He, simply, didn’t.

  Leon watched her jog down the street and away from his life.

  His swan love.

  * * *

  Snow seeped into the sides of Leon’s plastic black boots. The beard scratched at his face like fiberglass. When the costume store wouldn’t rent him a Santa Claus suit without a credit card, he bought one. A cheap one. Now, standing out in the cold, freezing, he wished he’d opted for a more expensive, heavier suit.

  His plan might not work, but after weighing the alternatives, it seemed the best possible solution.

  Standing at the same mall entrance Cody had used last week, Leon rang the bell. His fingers grew numb. A wind jag stabbed frozen needles into his face. Several passers-by dropped change into the bucket. A hastily made sign above it read Help the Poor—Merry Christmas. So far mall security had left him alone. He hoped they’d stay away until Cody showed up. If he showed up.

  On their trip back to Kansas, Leon had name-dropped the Barton Mall as many times as possible, not so subtle hints about what a great “killing zone” it supplied. Hard to tell, really, if Cody had picked up on his manipulative efforts, but he suspected he did. Human nature.

  The parking lot sat half-full, the winter storm keeping most shoppers at home. Good. The fewer witnesses, the better. Every time a new vehicle pulled into the lot, Leon watched until the shopper came into view.

  Leon gripped the gun in his coat pocket, made sure he could pull it out quickly. Even though he had pitched Cody’s two guns into a Utah river, Leon kept his. He wasn’t sure why. Until now.

  His hands felt heavy, frost-bitten. His leather gloves didn’t provide much protection from the wind. The Santa gloves that came with the suit were bulky and didn’t allow for precise dexterity, however. He realized a Santa wearing black leather gloves might look off, yet so far people hadn’t given him a second look, too busy avoiding the wind-carried snow.

  A blue van crunched through the slush, prowling the parking lot like a predatory creature on wheels.

  The van parked. Leon recognized Cody’s gait, his arms swinging back and forth, the king of the jungle, the cock of the yard.

  A father and small son strolled by Leon and stopped by the bucket. The father beamed as the child struggled with coins in his pocket. Loose change slipped out and plunked into the snow. Dropping down, the boy poked through the snow, searching for his fallen treasure.

  Cody approached. Leon needed to get rid of the father and son for their own safety. Not much time to do so. Kneeling beside the boy, Leon said, “Here, let Santa help.” Leon dipped his hand into the snow, pulled up an empty fist, and said, “Thank you, young man. Santa appreciates your contribution.”

  Tears formed in the boy’s eyes. “But…but, Daddy, I wanted to put it in the bucket.”

  Damn it. Cody had picked up his pace, approaching fast.

  The father dug deep into his pocket. “Here ya’ go.” He handed his son more change.

  Cody jogged across the driving lane and hopped onto the sidewalk, head craning in both directions.

  As the good Samaritans were in no hurry to leave, Leon decided to take the fight to Cody. He jogged out to meet Cody while clanging his bell. “Merry Christmas! Please help the poor.”

  Cody attempted to sidestep him. Leon countered, blocking his path. “Look, yo, I ain’t got no cash.”

  Leon repeated, “Merry Christmas,” while glancing at the child’s slow progress behind him.

  “Leon?” Cody narrowed his eyes, bewildered.

  Leon leaned in, placed a hand on Cody’s shoulder, and whispered, “Cody, I’m sorry about this. Please know…I’m doing this for your own good.”

  “What the hell?”

  Leon poked the gun’s barrel into Cody’s stomach. “Just remember, I’m truly sorry.”

  “What’re you doing?” Cody stared down at the gun, eyes wide, mouth slack-jawed.

  Leon dropped the gun into the snow. Cody scrambled to pick it up.

  “Oh my God, he’s got a gun.” Leon backed away, waving his hands wildly. “Please don’t shoot me!”

  The father scooped up his son and ran for the parking lot, yelling for help.

  “Wait! It ain’t my gun. I ain’t gonna shoot nobody.” Cody stared at the gun in his hand. Slow realization dawned, survival instincts kicked in. He dropped the gun into the snow. “Leon, what the fuck? What did you do?”

  A security car pulled alongside them, sliding to a stop. Red cherries rotated, reflecting off the fallen snow’s white cream. A voice blared out, “Stand where you are. Don’t move. Put your hands in the air.”

  “I didn’t do jack.”

  Leon said, “He tried to rob me.”

/>   The security guard jumped out of his car, squatting behind it, stun gun drawn.

  Cody glowered at Leon. “Leon…why?”

  “You need help, Cody.”

  Cody hesitated for an instant before racing into the mall.

  Leon stepped back, his hands still in the air. He said to the security guard, “You better get him before he hurts someone.”

  Nodding, the guard trotted into the mall, although he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

  Leon left the bucket and the gun in the snow. As he strode toward his car, he saw Cody’s new van speeding away. LMI’s cleaners were on the job.

  * * *

  Cody careened down the aisle, bumping into shoppers, leaving a trail of panic behind. He needed another exit, had to reach his van.

  It took him a moment to realize his escape plan was ludicrous, pointless, really. The cops couldn’t pin anything on him. Sure he came here to kill, but he had no tranquilizers, knives, nothing on him. So why are the cops chasing him?

  Bastard! That old bastard, Leon, set him up. After everything Cody had done for him, too.

  Cody rounded the corner, an exit in sight at the end of the hallway. Several cops scattered toward him. A fat woman screamed and hunkered down onto the floor, cowering behind drawn-in knees. Cody wheeled and tore out in the opposite direction. More cops came at him, an endless streak of blue.

  He could make the stairwell leading upstairs, but what good would it do him? He’d be trapped like a rat on the second floor, that’s goddamn what.

  With a lifeless laugh, Cody tossed his hands in the air.

  Fuck you, Leon.