The car pulls up to the Cabin. The headlights cast a shadow from the cabin into the wilderness behind it. It’s probably the first time these trees have seen artificial light. But that’s not a thought for now. Focus on the scene, Larry. It’s hard to tell, but that car looks awfully familiar. I just don’t know where I’ve seen it before. The note didn’t mention anything about the car, so maybe it’s all in my own head. Yet, my intuition is kicking in. I have definitely seen that car before. I can tell by the way the engine sounds. It’s an older model. It has some miles clocked in. The color too. That nasty fucking shade of red. It reminds me of- Fuck.
Walters.
I’m going to fucking puke. It can’t be. It doesn’t make any-
Motherfucker.
Fuck, shouldn’t talk.
God fucking damnit.
GOD FUCKING DAMNIT.
How the fuck did I miss this for over two fucking decades. Detective RICHARD ARTHUR WALTERS. R.A.
FUCK.
He’s stepping out of the car. That snide bastard is still wearing his suit and badge. He deserves to have those sleeves slowly wrapped around that withered neck of his and face a mirror so he can gradually watch the final moments of his life pass him by. I want him to see his face turn violet as saliva runs from his mouth to his shoes. I want him to see his own eyes fucking pop out of his head. But before all of this, I want that fucking disgrace to humanity to apologize for every-fucking-thing he has done. For helping Duke, murdering that fucking prostitute, but mainly I want for him to apologize for taking my fucking life away. Twenty-five years on this case and he was the reason I couldn’t crack it. He is the reason why my pay grade has a maximum. He is the reason why I am a fucking laughing stock in the office. He is the reason why my fucking wife left me for always being at the office. I was always swimming against the fucking current with this case and Walters was the one pushing me the fuck back. I hate the man. I am going to fucking kill the man.
I’m going to make a move for it now. What’s the point in wasting all this time?
It’s harder climbing down this tree than it is going up. Isn’t that fucking weird? You would think it’s the exact opposite. Or at least I would have, and I’ve done my share of camping. Suddenly, I accidentally cut myself on a sharp branch and a thin blood stream forms from my bicep down to my lower forearm beneath my jacket. The wound is painful and sharp, but it doesn’t feel serious. Nothing to think about.
I need to be careful when trotting through the snow. Each step has to be as quiet as possible. I can’t run the risk of Duke or Dick Walters hearing me. My guard would be totally off and they would kill me dead. I’d like to think they don’t have guns in there, but as I’ve said a thousand times the worst thing you can do as a detective is to assume. Now is definitely not the time for assumptions. I’m getting close. Now might be a good time to make sure my gun is loaded. Eight bullets. Great. That should be enough for Walters’ nut sack alone. Did I bring any extra? Nothing in my pockets. Back pockets? Nope. Fuck, I must have left them in the car.
All right here we are. Let’s see if I can get a look inside the window. It’s risky, but as long as I keep slowly inching forward they shouldn’t be able to hear me, which would give them no reason to look outside the window. The wind begins to howl stronger and the cold air begins piercing through the hole in my jacket. The crispness of the air numbs my wound. I’m not sure of the biology, but I think it might actually help me out here. Here’s the window, I need to be very, very still as I get up. I’m doing a full-on squat right now. The burn feels horrible. I should go to the gym more. My eyes are almost within viewing territory. I can sense something troublesome going on in there. Two of the most diabolical people in the country in the same room? No matter what something shady is going on. Then right as I’m about to peak in a hound barks an ear-piercing howl. He can smell the blood. Fuck.
Faintly, I hear Walters;
What the fuck is that Mutt howling about?
Did you have any trail coming here, Dick? Says Duke.
So Duke calls him Dick too? I have to say that is just brilliant. I couldn’t have ever even asked for that. But focus, Larry. If that dog keeps howling you’re fucked. Need to move around the back side of the house. Silence is more important now than ever. But I need to be quick. Stealthy, just like a jungle cat. That’s what I think I’d be if I were an animal. Maybe like a Panther or a Puma. Something cool like that.
Go check outside. Bring your gun. Says Duke.
I knew it. Way to forget your bullets, Pete. But this new spot should give me a little more of an advantage. The back door is a great place to get in, especially when they aren’t expecting an invasion. I could use two bullets to take out Duke. Then I’ll hide out somewhere inside and wait for Walters to come back in so I can riddle him with the remaining six. Hopefully the dog doesn’t attack me, I don’t think I could kill a dog. No matter how vicious. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.
Walters is outside. He just exited the cabin through the front door. This should buy me enough time to figure out how to get the fuck in here without the dog or Duke hearing me. If the dog hears me enter he’s going to bark his fucking head off and charge me. It sounds like a pit bull so I’m assuming I wouldn’t be able to knock it out with my hands, meaning I would have to use my gun. If I use my gun the men will hear me and I will immediately outnumber myself and make this whole ordeal that much more difficult. Realistically I should have brought my silencer.
Jim, I’m not seeing anything out here. Says Walters.
Damn right you’re not seeing anything. I’m a fucking ghost. I’ll fucking sneak up on you when you least expect and end your fucking life, you ingrate. Chill out, Pete. When you hear Walters open the front door to come back inside that’s when you move. That will be the only time the hound is distracted. It will hopefully create enough confusion for him that it scrambles his judgement.
I cock my gun cautiously. The wind begins to howl louder. The trees in the backdrop sway back and forth. The leaves rustle. I can’t help but think that this is it. This is everything that I’ve been wanting, and it’s finally here. I always imagined it somewhere different. Perhaps somewhere warmer. Like the Bahamas, or Bolivia. Somewhere I could rock a Hawaiin t-shirt and sunglasses. But this will do. As long as one of us ends up dead.
It must’ve just been the wind, Jim. Says Walters as he re-enters the cabin.
I make my move for it. The back door shuts exactly as the front door does. I pause. The dog barks. All I can do is pray that the mutt doesn’t come charging for me. My shooting hand shakes violently. My breaths become shorter and my vision begins to fade ever so slightly. I gradually move my trigger finger up the butt of the gun and hold it by my side as I maneuver through the back entrance. The floor boards are old. They will creak if I put too much pressure on them.
The Cabin itself is rather out-of-date to put it lightly. However, I’m not one for discretion. This place is a piece of shit. There is all kinds of shit everywhere. Grey candle wax spread on the walls, tin cans thrown about, World War 2 era oil lamps; lit, thirty-year old mouse traps that are rusted beyond repair, cobwebs that hang low enough to execute you. This place is fucking disgusting. The unmistakable smell of death lingers throughout. Enough so to initiate a chilling sensation running from my tailbone to my lower neck. I’m on the verge of blowing this whole operation by vomiting violently and viciously. But I mustn’t. Each step I take could be my last, and I must treat it as so. At least one of us will not make it out of here alive. And I don’t plan for that to be me. Jesus Christ I could use a cigarette.
Holy shit. Why did I not think of this. Where is my lighter?
Where were we? Says Walters from the neighboring room.
I need you to get me out of here. I’ve seen nothing but snow and mountains for years now. I’m tired of it. I need to return to my family, Richard.
Fuck your family and fuck you. You don’t fucking deserve a family. You had what most men never truly get t
o achieve and you fucking threw it all away. I would have killed to have been in your shoes.
The note didn’t work exactly as planned. I told you that. There is still too much heat, Jim.
Fuck the heat. I need to get back to reality. I’m losing my fucking mind.
Hundreds of people died, Jim. People don’t just forget about that after a few years.
It’s been seven years. Seven years, Richard. Do you have any idea how difficult this has been?
There you are. My trusty old lighter. Old reliable. Time to burn this motherfucker to the ground. The foundation of the Cabin should burn nicely. There hasn’t been a shower in this region for weeks now, so the wood should be adequately dry. I just need to find some sort of fuel. There has to be something in this hallway.
You don’t think I know what I did? I know exactly what I did. Says Duke.
Then you should understand how it’s too much to ask to come back from it right now. I can only do so much for you.
I can come back from anything. I have followers. People who do exactly what I tell them. I can do anything I want. So, I would appreciate it if you ceased to speak to me like a fucking imbecile.
Wait a minute. The oil lamps. The fuel is highly combustable. Well, at least I would assume so. Oil doesn’t go bad, does it? Fuck I hope not. Then I’d have to go in guns blazing like I’m Dirty Harry or something.
You are my leader, Jim. I am just trying to do what’s best for the Clan. Who would lead us if you’re dead?
I cannot die.
Oh you’ll die. You will die and I will be the one to kill you. I need to slowly unhinge this lamp from the wall. Once that’s done it’s easy to get the oil out and spread it everywhere. Slowly twisting the bolt out from the wall. My hands still shake, but less violently. It’s taking every ounce of me to ensure that I don’t. I don’t know whether I’m nervous that this won’t work out or whether I’m just so damn excited to send these men to hell where they belong.
It’s off.
Time to spread the fucking joy. I’ll create a trail leading from here to the back door. That should cover enough ground to set this place ablaze. I slowly move backwards, retracing my exact steps, as I carefully empty the contents of this lamp onto the floor below me. The floor boards creak as I do so. Hopefully not loud enough for the pooch to hear me.
Jim, three hundred people died. I wish this whole thing could be over but it’s not. I don’t know what else to tell you. Says Walters.
What good are you to me if you can’t even do your fucking job.
A gun cocks. Fuck me. Are they going to have their own stand off in there? Do I even need to burn this place down?
Put your gun away, Jim. Please.
Or what?
Fuck it. I’m already at the back door. I’m lighting this motherfucker up. I carefully open the back door and step outside. The air has gotten colder. Cold enough that it has frozen the blood that once ran down my arm.
I spark my lighter and hold it over the oil. This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. This is everything I have been waiting for. This exact moment. Fuck them both.
The oil rapidly ignites and quickly consumes the entire trail. I shut the door and make a run for the front entrance of the cabin. I still have eight bullets, after all. Why not riddle their flaming bodies as they try to make a run for it?
I quickly maneuver my way to the front of the cabin and wait patiently outside. Everything seems so much calmer out here. It really highlights the perspective of the situation. These two men have no idea that they are about to die. Just as Duke’s followers had no idea they were raised to die.
BANG. A gun shot. Holy fuck. Who shot who? What the fuck is going on. Then suddenly, black smoke starts to escape the back-end of the cabin. The blaze has spread. The back end of the Cabin burns bright like a beacon in the desert, the flames quickly engulfing the premises.
What the fuck is that smell? Says Duke.
The hound begins howling aggressively. I can sense the hysteria rising in the cabin. The atmosphere has totally shifted in my favor for the first time in our history together.
You fucking shot me in the arm, you crazy fuck! Says Walters. Who sounds like he is in a great deal of pain.
Oh calm down, you pussy. We’ve got bigger problems right now. Do you smell that?
This is it, Pete. They’re going to find the source of the fire and realize it’s too late to do anything but evacuate. When they evacuate, that’s it for them. I can’t believe it’s really ending this way. It feels different than I would have imagined. But I am not complaining. It’s taken twenty-five years to catch Duke, but at least I caught him. Some criminals never get caught and never pay for their crimes. I’d like to believe in Hell or some form of Purgatory for people like that, but how the fuck can anyone truly know?
The whole place is on fire how the fuck did this happen? Says Duke.
Yeah that’s right. Come to Papa.
We have to get out of here. God fucking damnit, Dick. Make sure you have everything.
Gun cocked. Head straight. Trigger arm steady. Tears in my eyes. I am ready. This might be time for a cigarette. It would probably make me look a lot cooler. Just like Clint Eastwood or Paul Newman. I’ve got time to light one.
Ah, that’s much better.
Suddenly, it begins to snow. A light shower, but a whole shower. The snowflakes are coming in sideways because of the icy wind that blows westerly. It’s slightly deterring my vision. I have always had laser-focused eye sight according to my optician, but even someone with 20/20 vision such as myself would have trouble seeing in these conditions.
The front door opens. The hound darts out of the cabin and into the night. The glow from the fire suddenly grows brighter. Flames are beginning to engulf the room from which the men once stood. Duke and Walters pour out of the cabin, unharmed. Walters holds a backpack that appears to be filled to the brim. I take one last, deep drag of my cigarette then-
Gentlemen.
I say as I point my weapon at Duke with a huge fucking smile on my face.
To say they are shocked would be an understatement. This is the first time Duke and I have actually met face-to-face. But he knows exactly who I am. He knows exactly what his fate is. I exhale and move my weapon toward Walters.
Dick, funny seeing you here.
The men stand still and silent as the raging fire tears apart the cabin behind them. The snow begins to fall heavier and the wind begins blowing ash from the cabin in a whirlwind-like fashion. The snow and ash mix in this terrifying cyclone of disaster, creating a dark slush on the ground below us.
I have waited a long time to do this. But I am a fair man, so I’ll allow you both to say something before I shoot you where you stand.
A deep silence. Then-
Detective Larry Pete of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Says Duke. The bastard adopts a patronizing grin on that smug fucking face of his.
Wish I could say the same.
Pete, this really looks bad, I know. But it is not what you’re thinking. Says Walters.
Poor bastard is shitting his pants. Not to mention that gunshot wound of his looks pretty bad. Even if I didn’t shoot him, he’d probably lose enough blood to die before getting to a hospital.
I think it is exactly what it looks like. You were his mole, his rat, his accomplice. You are just as much to blame for all this as he is. You are both big, steaming pieces of shit that deserve to die. Nothing you can say will change my mind.
I toss my cigarette at Walters. It almost hits him in the face. Shit, that would’ve been cool. One last slap in the face before I kill him dead.
Duke steps forward with his hands up.
You’re upset with me for what happened on July 4. Please, allow me to explain. It had to be done-
It did not have to be done. Walters butts in.
How fucking dare you disobey your God-
You fucking shot me and I’m proba
bly going to die. You’re not my God anymore. You’re nothing to me anymore. The years have not been kind to you, and now you are going to pay for it just as much as I am.
Duke quickly pulls out a gun and holds it to Walters’ forehead. He has a quick hand. Quicker than I expected. I keep my aim at Duke. I have to be prepared for anything.
Say that to me again. Tell your ruler what you truly think of him. Duke says as he begins to aggressively shove the barrel of his gun into Walters’ forehead.
I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to. The biggest regret of my life was teaming up with you. I was never a good man. I know that much. I had murdered innocent people before I had even met you. But you. You fucking diabolical piece of shit. You took it too far. You just had to get in your own head and not listen to anyone else. You deserve to die, and you are far from a God. Your name will go down in History, though. Just like you wanted. It’ll go down in history for murdering three hundred innocent men, women, and children. Children for Christ sake. Little kids. Not even old enough to read yet. And you killed them in cold blood. Intentionally. You are the most evil man I have ever met, and when we both arrive in Hell the first thing I am going to do is kill you again. Because I don’t think I’ll get a chance to now.
Woah. Duke did not like hearing that. He is growing increasingly more enraged. He’s going to shoot Walters if I don’t step in.
Duke, why did you do it?
Gods make sacrifices. Take the story of Cain and Abel for example. God ordered them to kill. Just as I ordered my people to die. We as Men of Religion take these stories as Gospel and incorporate the message and morals of these stories into our daily lives. We are not original. We are all following someone. I am that someone for many. And as that someone I had decided that a sacrifice would need to be made in order to grow. It was neces-
BANG.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to shoot him. I realize now that it doesn’t matter why he did it. I finally had him. Twenty-five years chasing Jim Duke and now that he is in front of me I am just going to magically let my guard down and allow him to devise some clever plot to escape unharmed? Just so he can go back to leading the Duke Clan and orchestrate some more mass suicides? Yeah right. My fucking ass I’m going to let that happen. I figured putting a bullet right between his ear and nose would do more good. Seeing Duke fall to the ground like that was worth every single day spent on the case. Seeing his blood sink into the ashy snow and slowly flow toward my shoes feels rewarding almost. As if I can finally breathe for the first time in two decades. The cabin behind flares bright enough to make me squint. Surrounding this massive fire? Total darkness. The untold and unknown terrors of the night. This feeling is, well, inexplicable. My dick has never been this fucking hard before. Not literally, of course. That would be odd. But metaphorically for sure. That would be the best way I could describe this feeling.
Stayaway Hideaway Page 9
