Gord Rollo

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by The Jigsaw Man v2. 0


  turn her face toward me. Her eyes were unfocused and

  distant, but with a heroic effort she managed to gather

  herself and look up at me. .

  "Why, Junie?" I asked, tears in my eyes, overcome by

  the magnitude of her sacrifice. "Why take a bullet for

  me? We barely knew each other."

  She was fading fast, blood bubbling from the corners

  of her mouth, as well as from the grievous wound in her

  abdomen. "Because they've hurt you enough," Junie

  whispered. "I couldn't live knowing—"

  That was it; the lights suddenly went out in her eyes

  and Junie went limp, dead in my arms without the

  strength to finish her sentence. She'd said all she needed

  t o , though, and I pulled her closer to me and held her

  tight as I wept for her, her crippled son, and her sense¬

  less death. If I could have traded places with her on the

  bed of forest leaves I would have gladly.

  In a heartbeat.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for the world to go

  away.

  C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - F O U R

  Surprise, surprise, my prayers went unanswered. W h e n

  next I opened my eyes the world was still there, cold

  and rotten as ever, and I had two dead bodies lying at

  my feet to prove it.

  I took a deep breath to steady my frayed nerves, then

  climbed shakily to my feet. I spent a couple of minutes

  covering Junie up with leaves and saying good-bye. She

  deserved a better grave and burial than that, but time

  was of the essence and the shroud of foliage was the best

  I could do with no shovel or tools. Jackson, I left to rot

  where he lay, j u s t as he'd planned on doing with me. Let

  the birds pick out his eyes and the rest of the forest ani¬

  mals and bugs have their way with him for all I cared. I

  had to get moving. I wanted to put as much distance

  between me and this spot as I could before anyone fig¬

  ured out Jackson wasn't coming back.

  I made it about a hundred feet farther down the for¬

  est path, j u s t around the next bend, when I finally found

  Drake's cemetery.

  My God!

  The path didn't widen out a lot, maybe twenty feet at

  its widest, but there were grave markers everywhere,

  little white wooden crosses stuck all over the path and

  covering the forest floor to my left and right. I didn't

  bother to count, but there had to be sixty or seventy of

  them, easy—maybe as many as a hundred.

  I hadn't expected to see anything like this. Why

  would Drake mark the graves? D u m p i n g bodies was

  one thing, the animals and the elements clean up the

  mess in no t i m e , but to mark the graves seemed like a

  silly idea to me. W h a t if the police ever found this

  place? Drake would be sunk, Dr. Marshall too. I couldn't

  believe he'd allowed this. Unless, of course, they were

  both arrogant and brazenly stupid enough to think

  they were so far above the law they could do whatever

  they wanted and consequences be damned. That was

  it—had to be. There was no other answer for this evil

  place. And that's what it was—evil—a shrine to N a t h a n

  Marshall's God complex, a mockery of the poor souls

  unceremoniously buried here to appease Drake's de¬

  ranged superego.

  These were the men and women from before the

  basement incinerator, Drake had said. How many more

  had died since, their collective ashes dumped in the

  woods for the wind to scatter. Probably more than

  this—a lot more.

  My God.. .all those people/

  The full scope of Dr. Marshall's madness hit me

  then. I'd known he was completely off his rocker, and

  Drake was no better, but I'd never known j u s t how nasty

  and cruel they truly were. This cemetery made me sick

  to my stomach. It also royally pissed me off.

  Somebody had to stop these bastards.

  Somebody with n o t h i n g to lose, a person who be¬

  lieved that retribution was for more important than

  their own personal safety.

  Somebody like me.

  That sounded good. It was j u s t the thing the hero in

  every big-budget action movie would say. Trouble was,

  this was my life, not a movie, and I sure as hell wasn't

  anybody's hero. Far from it. But then again, it was true

  that I had nothing to lose. And somebody did have to put

  a stop to Dr. Marshall and his crazy boyfriend, Drake.

  Ah, man, how did it ever come to this?

  Deep down I knew I'd already made up my mind. I

  was j u s t trying to avoid it for another few seconds.

  Freedom was finally within my grasp, but I couldn't j u s t

  walk away. I knew I couldn't. My conscience, having

  always been a right stubborn bugger, wouldn't allow it.

  Too many people had suffered here. Too many people

  called to me from their nameless graves, tormented

  souls who whispered the word revenge in my ear. They

  deserved retribution—all of them, but especially Junie.

  H o w could I walk away from her?

  Fuck it. Marshall and Drake are going down!

  I had no idea what I was possibly going to do, or if I

  had it in me to pull something like this off, but as I

  turned and started walking back toward the castle, I felt

  good about my decision. I was scared, hell, who wouldn't

  be, but in a good way that made me feel alive for the

  first time in years. Today I had a chance to be more

  than j u s t an expendable bum or a patched-together

  sideshow freak. Today I could be the great equalizer,

  the h a m m e r of justice—a hero for the dead and down¬

  trodden everywhere. That was taking it way too far,

  crazy talk, but I needed to believe in myself again—really

  believe—something I hadn't done since before the car

  accident that destroyed my family.

  Back where Junie and Jackson had died, I stopped to

  see if the security guard had anything on him that

  might be useful. I grabbed his gun, of course, happy to

  see it still had nearly a full clip of bullets. I also found a

  small black penlight and a Bic disposable lighter, but

  the thing that shocked me and made me shake with an

  equal mix of fury and fear was a white, wooden cross

  tucked into his jacket pocket.

  Another grave marker.

  Mine!

  I put the flashlight and lighter into my pocket along

  with Junie's switchblade, but the cross had a ten-inch

  vertical shaft and it was too big to fit. I considered j u s t

  throwing it away but it had a point on one end that

  could maybe be used as a weapon. I stuffed it inside my

  jacket and decided to take the damn thing with me.

  The gun I kept in my hand and at the ready. Believe it

  or not, I already had the beginnings of a plan forming

  in the back of my mind. I didn't force it, j u s t letting it

  simmer for a few minutes as I kicked some leaves over

  Jackson's body. People would be coming to search for

  him soon and covering him up might give me a few

  extra minute
s before my best weapon—the element of

  surprise—was gone forever. In the m e a n t i m e , I had to

  get my ass moving.

  I took off at a run back down the forest trail. Well, it

  was more of a fast limp but it was the best I could do. I

  had to make it back to the outer edge of the forest be¬

  fore Drake sent the reinforcements to look for me. He

  would t o o ; I had no illusions about that. Surely he'd

  have heard the shot that had killed Junie. My ears were

  still ringing from the gun blast. Drake would presume

  that shot had been Jackson shooting me, but if the guard

  didn't show up at the castle to give Drake the gruesome

  details, he'd know I'd somehow turned the tables on

  Jackson and immediately send out the guards.

  How much time did I have? Junie had been killed

  about ten minutes ago. It was about a thirty minute

  long and winding walk out to this part of the woods, so

  I had another twenty minutes before Drake even started

  to worry. Say, another ten or fifteen minutes after that

  before Drake went bat shit and started screaming. A

  few more minutes to rally the troops and then I'd be

  public enemy number one around here again. All in all,

  that gave me about thirty-five minutes, which was loads

  of time to get to the edge of the forest and find some¬

  where to hide. I hurried anyway, not wanting to take

  any chances.

  I made it back to where the path exited onto the field

  beside the castle without seeing anyone. Good, luck

  was still on my side. N o t wanting to be seen by anyone

  who might be watching from out of possibly a hundred

  windows on this side of the building, I stayed back

  from the opening and set off on a course through the

  woods that would allow me to stay hidden when the

  guards arrived, but also stay close enough that I could

  keep an eye on what was going on. I walked a safe dis¬

  tance off the path, dropped to the ground, then wormed

  my way toward the edge of the forest on my belly. Just

  shy of the tree line, I scooped leaves over my legs and

  back, lay as still as I could and waited for whatever

  came next.

  It felt great to lie down and rest. I was exhausted and

  j u s t about every square inch of my abused body was ach¬

  ing, screaming out for my daily dose of painkillers. That

  thought made me think about Junie and how she'd never

  be bringing m e — o r anyone else—any more pills to

  make them feel better. A few tears ran down my cheeks,

  tough guy that I was, and as I lay there crying I started

  to have second thoughts about this wild vigilante cru¬

  sade I was about to undertake. I mean, who the hell was

  I to take on Drake and his entire security staff? I'd

  killed Jackson in self-defense, but would I really have

  the guts to kill again j u s t ibr the sake of justice? If the

  answer to that was n o , I'd better turn tail and get the

  hell out of Dodge.

  Drake walked out of the castle, his eyes scanning the

  forest and seemingly looking directly at me. I knew he

  couldn't see me from where he stood, and was probably

  watching the m o u t h of the forest path for signs of

  Jackson's return. He kept glancing down at his wrist,

  checking his watch, then shaking his head. Even from

  this distance I could see how agitated the chief of secu¬

  rity was, pacing back and forth and working himself

  into a slowly simmering rage. Another few minutes

  and j u s t as I'd called it, Drake was screaming into his

  walkie-talkie and looking like he was ready to breathe

  fire.

  Good on you, you bastard. Hope you have a heart seizure

  right in front of me.

  Eive minutes later, seven security guards were zip¬

  ping up their jackets against the cold and loading

  identical guns to the one I was holding, while Drake

  barked orders at them. I couldn't hear what was being

  said, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. They

  were being informed about Jackson and told to find

  me as fast as they could. All of them were in big trou¬

  ble if I made it out of the forest and found my way to a

  police station. There was no way Drake was about to

  let that happen. I'm sure he even gave the guards some

  sort of incentive—cash or time off, something—for

  whoever put the first bullet in my head. By the time

  Drake sent his men after m e , they were r u n n i n g like a

  pack of mindless bloodhounds trained to follow the

  scent of raw meat.

  I'd expected as much, but Drake surprised me by

  pulling out his gun and r u n n i n g off into the forest after

  his men. Either he didn't trust them to get the j o b done

  right, or he had worked himself into such a frenzy he

  wanted to make the kill himself. Whatever the reason,

  it was an unexpected bonus for me. I'd worried how I

  was going to get past Drake and into the building if he

  had j u s t stood there and waited for his men to return.

  Now, there was no one to stop me from slipping out of

  the woods and getting inside. There was always the

  chance more guards were waiting inside the building,

  but my gut told me all of them were in the trees with

  Drake, all anxious to be the one to make their deranged

  boss happy.

  I waited until I couldn't see or hear any of them any¬

  more, then j u m p e d to my feet and started j o g g i n g

  across the field to the castle. My body ached too much

  to run, but I covered the distance fairly quickly and

  without incident. If everything went as I figured, I

  should have at least an hour, maybe as many as three or

  four. They'd find Junie and Jackson's bodies easy

  enough, probably within twenty minutes if they ran

  the whole way, but after that they'd have no idea where

  I went.

  I was counting on them searching farther into the

  forest, thinking I was r u n n i n g through the trees in a

  blind panic to get as far.away as possible. There was no

  way they'd think I'd doubled back to pull a one-man

  Rambo on t h e m — n o t even Drake would think me ca

  pable of that. So they'd be forced to split up and search

  the woods, maybe form a line fifty yards apart and look

  for me that way. That could take a long time. The best

  part was, for every step they took deeper into the

  woods, they'd eventually have to take every one of those

  steps again to get back here once the search was called

  off.

  W i t h my back pressed against the brick wall, I moved

  to the end of one side of the building and checked around

  the back to see if the coast was clear. It was, and I

  dashed around the corner, breathing a small sigh of re¬

  lief to be out of the line of sight of anyone that might

  return from the forest path. There were several win¬

  dows and one door that I could have tried to enter the

  castle, but I'd already spotted the place I wanted to go

  and made my way over to the sma
ll basement window a

  third of the way along the wall.

  I dropped to my knees and took a second trying to

  peek inside but it was dark in the basement and there

  was n o t h i n g to see. I took that as a good sign no one was

  down there, so without hesitating I broke the pane of

  glass with the handle of Jackson's gun. The glass shat¬

  tered easily and with less noise than I'd expected, but I

  had to waste several minutes clearing glass away and

  making sure I got rid of any shards left sticking up in

  the frame. The last thing I wanted to do was slice my

  wrists or neck open trying to clumsily crawl through a

  half-broken window.

  I spun around, slipping in the window feet first and

  slithered backward until I was hanging off the inside

  wall with only a four-foot drop down to the floor. This

  was the point of no return and truthfully I wasn't sure

  I should let go.

  In for a penny, I thought, having to rely on cliches to

  find some courage within me. W h a t was that other one

  Dr. Marshall had teased me with? Out of the frying pan,

  into the fire. Shit, I'd gone way beyond that. This wasn't

  into the fire—this was going straight to Hell.

  I took a deep breath, and dropped to the floor.

  1

  C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - F I V E

  Let's face it, any way you sliced it I made a woefully

  pitiful James Bond. I'd also misplaced my jazzed up

  Aston M a r t i n sports car, my Rolex watch that doubled

  as a laser torch, and my attache case filled with all my

  other neat superspy gizmos; so with only my brain

  and what limited brawn I could summon from this de¬

  crepit monster suit I called a body, I was forced to

  keep my plan simple. I had neither the t i m e , skill, am¬

  bition, nor the luck required to pull off anything too

  complicated.

  With those thoughts in mind, I pulled out the small

  penlight I'd recently taken off Jackson and set to work.

  The beam of light, was surprisingly bright for such a

  small flashlight, easily illuminating the path ahead.

  "Nothin' but the best for Drake's boys," I muttered,

  using even the little things to fuel my anger into what I

  hoped would give me the required adrenaline boost to

  carry my abused body through whatever tasks lay ahead.

  I started looking for the furnace. It was cold outside,

  but comfortable in here, so obviously Dr. Marshall's

  medical facility had an adequate heating system. W i t h

 

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