by Tufo, Mark
“Be careful, sir.”
“And be out of character?” I smiled before exiting. The MPs were gone now, the music from the party no longer prevalent. “Screw it,” I said as I walked around the corner to the staircase and back up. The window to Collier’s room was still lit up by the glow of a TV, though this time, his door was shut. I knocked.
“Fucking Hepner, you had better have brought beer!” a voice yelled from the room. The door swung open. I didn’t know what I was expecting, maybe some mousey little shit with a twitchy mustache, certainly not the Greek Adonis that stood before me, headset around his neck and a joystick controller in his hand. A paused military video game was on the tube. Except for his close-cropped hair, he could have graced the cover of nearly every romance book written.
“No beer, sorry. And you should put a shirt on.”
“Why? You afraid you like what you see too much?” he sneered.
“Well, not going to lie, little jealous about the six-pack abs.”
“You a homo, Lieutenant Talbot?”
“Ah, you know who I am. That’s a start.”
“Good, now you can fuck off.” He went to shut the door; I pushed my way in.
I shut the door behind me. Instead of showing any concern, it looked to me like I’d made Collier’s day. He placed the joystick down and removed the headphones, even went so far as to flex his chest.
“Do you know why I’m here?”
“Probably going to ask if you can suck my dick.”
“It’s amazing how easy assholes like you make it for me to overcome the guilt for the terrible things I’m about to do to you.”
“As if. I’m a third-degree black belt in jiu-jitsu; I’m going to break a few of your bones and wrap you up into the shape of a pretzel.” He cracked his knuckles.
“Hold up. Before we get to commencing on the beat down, tell me why.”
“I guess it can’t hurt—me, I mean—can’t hurt me. You’re going to be fucked, though.”
I turned the lock. “Go ahead, I’m all ears.”
Maybe that struck something within him, thought I detected a note of surprise. A normal bully might get stressed when they were called out, but if he was the martial artist he said he was, then he’d be more than confident he could make good on his threat.
“The Civilian Board bitch.”
“Deneaux,” I clarified.
“Yeah, the one that looks like she’s perpetually sucking on lemons.”
“Yup. Talking about the same woman.”
“She comes up to me a couple of months ago. She gives me a list of names and pictures.”
“My squad?”
“Yeah, all of them.”
“Says if any of them come in needing work on their rifles, that I should do whatever I can to make sure they fail under stress.”
“So instead of telling your commanding officer about this malfeasance and treason, you decide to take her up on her offer?”
“First I had to see what was in it for me.”
“Of course. So what was in it for you?” I asked.
“This gaming rig, bro! Brand new flat screen, game system, headphones, controllers, more games than I know what to do with. I’ve got it all.”
“So, you sold my entire squad out for stuff you could have gone out and got for free?”
“I’m not going out that gate. Only losers do that shit. Not risking my life for anyone or anything.”
“True humanitarian, aren’t you. Yet, here you are playing your military games like you’re a war hero.”
“Better at playing dead, than being dead.”
Son of a bitch had me there. “So, no huge plot. You’re not working with Deneaux to run the base?”
“Run the base? Why the fuck would I want to do that?”
“Yeah, cut into your gym and game playing time. So are you going to voluntarily tell the colonel, or am I going to have to make you?”
“Fuck Lieutenant, she said you were stupid. I just didn’t know how deep the stupidity ran.”
I knew where this was going probably before he did. He was swinging for my jaw before he’d finished his sentence. Luckily, I’d seen the tell in his eyes, that momentary glint where he was fully expecting to separate my lower jaw from the remainder of my face, a crippling injury that would have taken me out of the fight before it had even started. His fist blew air past me and there was the oomph of the miss. It’s surprising, but sometimes not connecting can induce more pain to the wielder than if they’d landed the blow. Hyper-extension is usually the main issue. If he’d actually hurt anything, I wasn’t inclined to think it was all that bad, as he’d rebounded quickly with a roundhouse kick. I dodged that as well, but it was a lot closer to taking my head off than I would have liked. Most are full of shit when it comes to talking up their fighting skills, bolstering their claims in hopes of thwarting off an attack. Not Collier; he was making me believe more and more that he was indeed a master. There was a flurry of seven, maybe eight kicks and punches, most I completely avoided; those that did land I would consider ineffectual. He stepped back to adjust his fighting stance.
He was hunched down, right leg in front, his hands up by his chest and open. Looked as classic a fighting stance as I’d ever seen. “I’ve only had my instructor avoid that many blows. What do you study?”
I think he was genuinely interested. Not scared; not yet, anyway, because as of yet, I’d been too busy trying to keep various parts of me from absorbing crunching blows rather than delivering any damage myself.
“The streets, mostly. I mean, not like Compton or anything like that, actually had a pretty good childhood. It’s just in this world I’ve had to fight my share of assholes. And if I’m being honest, Collier, you’re middle of the pack at best.”
He wasn’t a fan of my candor. He launched into a bevy of kicks and punches. When he once again found out that he wasn’t going to be able to land anything with a satisfying crunch, he moved right into the grappling phase. He grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me close into him. I was none too pleased when the side of my face collided with his sweat-soaked right nipple. He was reaching for my arm, trying to place it in an arm-bar, pretty sure he wouldn’t let me tap out if I wanted to. He was going to pop it free from my shoulder, if given the chance.
He had his legs wrapped and locked by the ankles around my midsection, his head directly behind mine as he began to drag my arm back. There wasn’t much space as I lifted my head back, but it was a few inches and I was going to make it count as I threw it back with force. He cried out; wasn’t sure if I’d broken his cheek, but he was going to have a good-sized welt for sure. He began to exert more force on my arm. I could feel the pressure mounting in my shoulder.
“Pretty strong for a douche bag,” he breathed into my ear. “First thing I’m going to do once I pull your arm free from its socket is gag your mouth, because the screams are going to garner attention. After that, I’m going to break your ribcage in to the point that the broken bits of bones start cutting through your internal organs and you bleed to death from the inside.”
“Gonna be tough to explain why you have a dead officer in your quarters.”
“‘Sir, he broke in, I defended myself as best I could, once my training took over, I couldn’t stop.’ The lemon bitch will make sure I don’t get more than a slap on the wrist.”
“Got most of it all figured out, do you?”
“Most?” he questioned.
With my arm extended as far as it could go before free-floating from the rest of me, I started to pull it back to where it needed to be. He clutched harder and started leaning into it with his entire body weight.
“Impossible,” he mumbled, more for him than me. The gap between the back of my head and the front of his was now more than six inches. Plenty of time to build up enough torque to do some damage. Oh, the joy I felt when I heard the cartilage in his nose crack. The euphoria quickly passed, as after that came the warm, sticky mess that was clinging to
the back of my neck; blood and snot ran freely from him and onto me. His grip slipped, but did not release, even as I got my arm out in front of me. I whipped my head back again, cracking through what little remained of his aquiline nose. He was out cold as I stood, a spread of blood running away from the destruction like lava from a ruined mountain.
“Asshole,” I said as I stood. I noted without amusement that he sounded very much like a bulldog with his wet breathing. I went into the bathroom, grabbed what I hoped was a clean towel and cleaned myself up before deciding what I was going to do next. I wish I could say things were different, but I wanted to kill him. Flat out drive his eyeballs into his skull kind of thing. I still had no proof, and the onus was most assuredly on me. I’d come to his place; he could easily say I started a fight with him and he’d defended himself. No way he was going to feel guilty for what he’d done and confess. Not a doubt in my mind I was going to come away poorly from this. Deneaux would push her agenda by saying the military personnel were out of control and needed to be better monitored by the Civilian Board or something along those lines. I could tell the colonel, but there were two problems. First, would he believe me, and secondly, there was still a decent chance he was in on it, or some of it, anyway.
Panic, a feeling I’ve come to know and loathe, began to build up within me. I could feel it swirling around, filling in every crevice of my being before it threatened to drown me within its jittery embrace.
“I could threaten that I’ll kill you…but that won’t work. As soon as I’m gone, you’re going straight to the Lemon Queen.” I didn’t like that I was vocally debating myself. Didn’t stop me from continuing, though. “I might have to kill you, but Harmon knows you were here; would she even know to lie when the MPs started asking people if they heard anything unusual or saw any strange people around?” Then I had to ask, “Would she lie? She didn’t owe me anything; just because I’d been her commanding officer at one time didn’t mean she’d want to be complicit in a murder.” Collier stirred, groaned some, but as of yet had not awoken.
I spun at the light tapping on the door. Doubtful it was the MPs; they’d be much louder, but maybe a friend, girlfriend, a neighbor that heard something. Somewhere deep in Collier’s unconsciousness, he must have heard it too, because he gave out this gurgled groan, his eyelids fluttered, and, as if that was all the strength he could muster, he lapsed again, deeper into his current state.
The tapping again. “Sir, I know you’re in there.” It was Harmon.
“Shit.” I opened the door quickly, surprising her, then pulled her in. Her eyes grew big as she looked upon the bloody hulk lying on the ground.
“Is…is he dead?”
“If only. Umm, I mean, no.”
“What happened?”
“Banana peel?” I queried.
“Sir?”
“He’s in on whatever conspiracy Deneaux has going on. He tampered with Stenzel’s rifle.”
“Did you beat the confession out of him? Because that usually isn’t the type of evidence that’s admissible in court.”
“You a lawyer?”
She shook her head.
“Too bad. Definitely looks like I’m going to need one. And no, I didn’t beat it out of him. He was all too willing to tell me what happened when he thought he was going to beat the crap out of me.”
“He’s such a jerk.”
“You’re telling me. What’re your thoughts on this?”
“He got what was coming to him.”
“Autumn, what if I have to take this further?”
Thankfully she didn’t need for me to spell it out.
“How sure of yourself are you that I’m the only one that saw you today?”
“Meh,” I answered as honestly as I could. I had been stealthy, but not invisible.
“Can you get him to confess? Or did you maybe record him saying he did those things?”
“He won’t confess. He’ll have representation that will tell him not to, and no, I didn’t think to bring a recorder. Guaranteed I’ll end up in jail long before he does.”
She thought about that for a moment. “It would be better if he disappeared, as opposed to being found dead…sir. Like he went AWOL. They’ll be focused on finding him outside the gates instead of looking for a…murderer.” She gulped that last word out.
“Trust me, Harmon, this wasn’t how I had planned the night going.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay, planned is an exaggeration. I don’t like that everyone knows my greatest weakness.”
“You have to get him out of here. I’ll clean up.”
“I don’t want you involved.”
“Little late for that, sir. I can testify to the fact of everything you told me, but it still doesn’t add up to anything. Or I can deny you were ever here. Either way, I’m involved.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m not. Anyone trying to get my friends hurt or killed deserves everything coming their way.”
“So how do I get him down off the third floor without anyone knowing?”
She was looking around as she thought.
“Laundry basket. Those big white things on rollers…they’re mostly used to hide contraband coming in, but in this case…”
“Yeah, a body heading out. Another thing, Harmon, I didn’t drive here. I can’t really wheel this thing back home.”
“My god, sir, you make things so difficult.” Easy to see I was pushing her to the edge of exasperation. Fairly common achievement of mine. “I’ll get in touch with my boyfriend. He has the base delivery vehicle. He sometimes has to do late runs; it won’t raise any suspicion.”
“I’ve already dragged you into this. I’m not sure I want to add another.”
“He was in it the second he saw Deneaux watching that screen.”
“True.”
She left. I was alone with the groaning Collier, who looked like he was trying to find the way up from the depths of his comatose state.
“I’m sorry about this. Not much of a fan of kicking people when they’re down.” I clocked him in the side of the head, sending a spray of blood against the far wall and making Autumn’s clean-up that much more difficult.
Autumn was back in half an hour, pushing the cart. She instantly noticed the new stain.
“He still alive?”
“Yeah,” I said as I picked him up and deposited him, not so gently, into the hamper.
She immediately grabbed some towels and wiped up the majority of the blood before tossing them in with Collier. She then grabbed a bunch of clothes from his dresser and covered him up. I think I was still in a mild state of shock.
“Have a lot of experience in this, Harmon?” I asked.
“Jerry is downstairs waiting.” She opened the door, looked both ways before stepping out of the way.
I took a right.
“The elevator is to the left.”
“Yeah, that would be a bumpy ride. Thank you for this.” I told her.
“This is for you and the rest of the squad. Catch the asses.”
I nodded at her. The elevator was so slow, I seriously thought about pitching Collier off the deck and running down to toss him into the truck. I looked over the railing while I was waiting, I saw who I figured was Autumn’s boyfriend hanging out by a delivery truck. Three tense minutes later and zero potential witnesses, I had the entire cart in the back of the truck.
“I’m Jerry.” The kid stuck his hand out. He was tall, on the skinnier side, like most of us these days, but he wore an affable smile, especially considering the circumstances.
“Hey Jerry, I’m Mike.” I shook. “Are you sure you want to be a part of this?”
“Little late now, don’t you think?” He looked to the now closed back doors. “Besides, I saw what I saw, and now with what Autumn just told me, sounds like some dangerous people doing some bad things. ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ Edmund Burk
e said that.”
I nodded. I was going to tell him I thought it was from a meme. What was that other famous quote? “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.” Jerry ended up being a man after my own heart, as the entire five-minute ride to my house he spouted off on a litany of conspiracy theories, some ranging from the fantastical to the mundane.
“Next time I have a barbecue, you are so invited,” I told him.
“Is he dead?” he asked when he pulled up to my house.
“No.”
“Do I want to know what you’re going to do with him?”
I said nothing.
“Better this way. Sort of good to meet you, Mike.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Good luck,” he told me before he left.
I stuffed Collier into the back of my Hummer, under the plastic shell. Tracy was watching from the front porch.
“I’ll be back soon,” I told her as I joined her on the deck.
“I want the quick of it, and how necessary is whatever it is you are doing.”
“Very necessary. This is the one responsible for sending us out with shit ammunition and a non-functioning rifle. He’s in league with, get this, the Lemon Queen.”
“Deneaux? What a fitting name.”
“I know, right? I’m pissed I didn’t think of it.”
“Is he dead?” She motioned with her head.
“No.”
“What are you planning on doing with him, then? You know even if you get him to confess, Deneaux will have enough layers of protection it won’t matter and you’ll more than likely get thrown in jail for kidnapping.”
“I’m bringing him outside the gate.”
“They’re not just going to let you out because you tell them you want to go on a joy ride. Even if they do, isn’t it going to look mighty suspicious that he goes missing the same time you make an unauthorized trip? Mike, I love the way you take charge of some things, leaping into action like a super-hero, but every once in a while it wouldn’t hurt for you to maybe plan ahead. I mean, start small, baby steps.”
“I…you’re right. I had no idea how any of this was going to go down, and once he attacked me…”
“He attacked you? With or without provocation?”