The Switchblade Mamma

by Lindsey Schussman

  33.

  I had forgot that my face was covered with blood. As I stopped outside the kitchen door, Paige's eyes became wide with fear. She dropped the bags that were in her hands and pulled out her gun, pointing directly at my head.

  "What the fuck, Lill?" Her eyes were focused and trained. The gun remained pointed at my head. I could hear and feel as her heart was breaking.

  Upon instinct, my unarmed hands shot straight up into the air. I took a slow deep breath and exhaled.

  "Where's Fitz, what did you do to him?" She demanded.

  I was froze, with my arms up right and in a surrender position, I witness the start of a light snow dusting. I was running out of daylight and I was running out of time. "He's alive, but he needs medical attention." I slowly lowered my hands. I looked at her and tried to reach out to her with my soul. "Paige, I love you so very much, but you knew as well as I that this day was coming. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I cannot like this."

  Tears begin to well up in her eyes. She blinked hard and let them drip from her face and fall to the snow. "I cannot let you go. Paul Bishop is going to?"

  "Die. I swear to you, I'm only leaving because I'm after him and the man that sold me out and allowed my mother to die."

  Paige hesitantly lowered her gun. She swallowed hard and blinked off more tears. "What?"

  I slowly nodded. "I never told you. But you remember that night when I went completely crazy and almost hit you? That night, Paul Bishop told me that my stepfather gave me up over a few gambling debts, and my mother, well, she was apparently killed in a car accident a month after I disappeared." My eyes became watery as well. As the snow began to fall harder, I saw Paige as she lost her heart. I looked to the ground and then to her. "Paige, even if my mother were alive, I know she would frown upon what I'm doing. She would tell me just to let her go and to save those lives." I shook my head and couldn't help but laugh at myself. "She was the kind of woman that loved everything. She would go out of her way just to rescue a cockroach and release it outside."

  "If I let you leave and you do not succeed, we all will die."

  I tried to reassure her. "Paige, I know I will not last long out there. But I know one thing for sure, I will not stop until those who are responsible for this are no longer breathing. My last dying breath will be them strangled at my hands. Please, if you love me you will let me go. If anything, if there's any way that I shall survive, I would love nothing more than to be in a loving domestic relationship with you. Because of you, I have survived as long as I have. Because of you, I have found a new purpose."

  She began to cry. She placed her hands over her eyes began to sob, dropping the gun. "Why do you do this to me?"

  I wanted to comfort her, and hold her and let her know that everything was going to be okay, but I couldn't. In my mind, I wasn't even sure if I would succeed, but I knew one thing for sure, I wasn't going to give up without a fight." Paige, Fitz needs you. You and your dad and Clive and Fitz get the Fuck out of Dodge. Hide. Don't come back until you see that Paul Bishop is dead. Please, I love you. I want you to live a life of your own I want you to be free. Let me do this. I will not let you down."

  She looked back up at me and wiped her tears away, picking up the gun. She once again pointed it at my head and looked away. "Go, get the Fuck out of here."

  I did as I was told. The gun pointed at my head was a kiss in disguise. I gave her one last look and then I ran. I wanted to look back, but I didn't. The snowfall became heavy as I trudged through it. I ran like an insane madwoman running with the devil. Exhaling, the breath was escaping my mouth like an exhaust from a 67 Chevelle with a 750 horsepower engine. I ran as far as possible. I ran until I was out of breath and my nose bled. My freedom had finally been granted. I ran with the images of Paige in my mind as her heart broke.

  It was a Thursday and my shot was not due until Sunday. I had two, maybe three weeks until my heart would give in. I had to keep on the move and I had to keep my head straight. I kept running and I stayed away from the side roads. If Barrett and Clive returned, they would surely be looking out for me. I kept to the forest, keeping my eyes peeled for a main road.

  I was losing light. I was losing visibility as snow began to fall harder. Even though I was running and sweating, I could still feel the cold as it was nipping at my outer extremities. Everything I wore was wet. The chaffing was becoming irritating. I had become so use to sleeping in a nice warm room, it was bringing back memories of when I was held captive in my little underground outside box.

  It had been hours since I started running. As the night began to suck up the day, I stopped and sat leaning up against a tree stump. Breathing heavily, I tried to catch my breath. I was almost at the point of hunkering down and trying to get some shut eye, when I heard a noise. I followed it, and as the snow slowly dissipated and the moon slowly crept in and out of tiny sprinkles throughout the breaking clouds, the noise became clearer. Passing cars. My heart began to pound again as I knew I had found the main road. Passing my exertion to the side, I ran to freedom.

  When I made it to the black glorious asphalt, I laid my lips upon it and gave it a great kiss. I looked up at the moon, blowing its great beauty a kiss as well. It was a subtle sigh of relief. I would walk alongside the road until I found a ride to town. I had no idea where I was, but I hoped I was still the same great state that I was from, Arizona.

  Food. My Body required nourishment. I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I hadn't drank since I started my escape. I was completely running on fumes. As I mindlessly walked the road, I continuously stuck out my thumb at every passing car. As every car passed, I thought to myself if there was any good Samaritans left. But then again, I wouldn't even stop to pick up myself.

  Just as I was beginning to lose hope, just as I was about ready to leave the roadside and find a place safe where I could sleep, a car pulled over. I stood for a moment, bewildered. Its red glowing, glaring lights from the back tail lights somewhat mesmerized me. Standing frozen, the driver side window rolled open and an arm emerged, waving for me to come.

  The vehicle itself, in words could only be explained as immaculate. Growing up with my father, his passion was muscle cars. I knew them inside and out. As I walked up to the passenger side of the powder blue, two-door 67 Chevy two, my heart melted. When I put my hand on the door handle and pulled it open, the feeling of my mind, could only be explained as exhilarated. I took a deep breath as I sat in the seat. Quietly and obediently I buckled myself in. I had not looked yet at my driver. My two knives lay snugly in my pocket, and I fingered the both with my hand.

  "Where ya headed, boy?" Was what the woman asked. It was a simple and short sentence, but her accent was filled with that of a southerner.

  I swallowed hard, trying to clear my throat. The days run had made it raspy and dry. "Where, are we?" I asked.

  "Shit, boy, how do you not know where you are? You on something? Or are you coming off something?" Her voice was big, loud and she clearly spoke. I could definitely tell that she was a very outspoken woman.

  "Coming off something? Yeah, something like that." I softly replied.

  "Well, you don't have any on you now, do you?"

  Cold, I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. "No ma'am."

  "So, not like you have much of a choice, but I might as well ask once again, where ya headed?"

  Once again the same question. I still did not know what state I was in. So I asked, "where you headed?"

  "Phoenix, yeah, downtown. Recently divorced from my husband. Used to work for him, but he decided to sleep with his much younger, more attractive, receptionist. So, I took his most prized possession, his Car. Yes, I am a woman in her early 40s that is going to be divorced and living with her daughter, but I don't Care." With both hands firmly gripping the wheel, she put the car into gear and began to drive. "So, do you have a name?"

  I cleared my throat. "Lillian." Good. I was still in my home state. If anything, it would at least t
ake a little over an hour to get back into town. I had plenty of time, hopefully. With no money and no transportation, getting there swiftly, would be difficult. Time was not on my side.

  "Oh God, I am so sorry. The way you looked, I thought you were..."The lady said apologetically.

  "It's okay. I get it all the time." Not yet. I'm pretty sure when I hit town I would get it all the time. Phoenix was the destination. I had no money, but I would find a way to get where I had to go. If I had to die walking, so be it.

  "My name's Joyce, by the way. Joyce Heart. So, where you headed in Phoenix?"

  Ultimate goal was to get to Tempe. That's where my mother lived, if he hadn't moved. I knew, out of the greatness of her heart, she picked me up. I wouldn't burden her with complex directions, nor anything that would make her have to drive out of the way. I took a deep breath and plainly stated. "The minute we get off the off ramp to Phoenix, just let me out, please".

  "Got nowhere to stay?"

  "No."

  "Look, before I worked for my husband, I worked as a social worker. If you have got nowhere to go, I could drop you off at a shelter. The weather forecasts rain. I could at least take you to a place to stay where you would have a roof over your head."

  "No trouble?" I asked.

  She took a deep breath behind the wheel and said, "no trouble at all, hun."

  "What's the date?" I asked.

  Her head shifted, slanted and turned my way briefly from the road. "Have you been stuck underneath a rock, or have you been on that stuff too long to remember?"

  I let out a half chuckle. "I am going to have to go with, stuck underneath a rock."

  "Well, my love, it is Thursday, November 21."

  The day was needed. I knew the year. I was at least keeping track of that. My heart pounded as I began to think of what I was going to do. I had one shot, one shot at making sure that certain people were disposed of. My stepfather wasn't necessary, but it was needed out of my pure and sure revenge. Paul Bishop however, in order for me to make things right with Paige, he needed to go. But the worst part of everything, was that he was going to be the hardest to get to. He didn't even live in the state of Arizona. I would somehow have to lure him out.

  There was a brief silence between us. I felt warmth as the heater was blasting its warm engine air. I saw the snow as it hit the windshield. I saw the roads as they became increasingly light in the darkness of night. As my eyes grew heavy, my eyelids began to sink. When I heard Joyce speak, my eyes lifted.

  "So, if you don't mind my asking, what in the hell were you doing in the middle of nowhere?"

  I was a stranger and she picked me up. No matter what, it was a valid question that had to be answered. I wasn't big into telling fibs, but I couldn't tell her the truth either. With a deep breath and a tad bit of hesitation, I finally answered. "I was out four-wheeling and my truck broke down."

  She nodded behind the wheel. "Uh-huh, you have nowhere to live in town, so you go four-wheeling in your truck. I'm assuming you lived in it to?"

  Busted. She already knew what I said was a lie. Obviously if I was homeless, and living in my vehicle, I wouldn't waste it away in such a manner. I wanted to be honest, but I couldn't. I didn't want to implement her into any of my future business. "Joyce, what I just told you is a lie. All I can say is for the last three years I have been held captive. I am currently on my way to serve retribution."

  She was silent, but I heard her take a deep breath. "I see."

  "Look, I mean you no harm. I just need to get into town and do what I have to do."

  "Well, that's a good thing you don't mean me any harm, because I do have a 357 Magnum snuggled up in between my legs. Your sweet girl, but I wouldn't want to have to rearrange your face? To clean the upholstery in this car would cost a fortune."

  I liked Joyce. She was a kind hearted and loving person. Despite the discrepancies with her husband, she still held her head up high. As I felt safe, I finally fell into a quiet silent nap. The warm, repetitive vibrations of the car, sent me off into a deep comfortable slumber. Even with the hunger, the emptiness of my stomach and its wretched grumblings, I still managed to enter REM sleep. The bubonic plague was asphyxiated on my mind. The plague was my revenge. After three years of captivity, three years of training and sending innocent souls to their death, I had two lives on my hit list, Eric Desmond and Paul Bishop. No doubt, it was in the bag. After all I had done, all I had been through, Asmodeus was guiding me through this one. If he wanted souls, dirty souls, I was the one to give them to him. Out of all the dreams he had bashed, every time I woke up stricken with fear and covered in sweat, because of him, I would definitely drag with great pleasure two pathetic souls into to hell with me. No doubt, they would go first. Before I never hungered for blood. I was only forced to do so. But now, blood was all I could taste upon my lips. I was an insane weapon on the loose. I was out in the open, I was free, unleashed in the public. I could be capable of so much chaos, but my mind remained focused. I hoped and it was a bad hope, that I could distinguish those two lives, before mine was up. When I was to die, hopefully it would be in peace and with duties accomplished. My journey to Hell, well, it would be a journey with a great smile.

  I was woken up abruptly with a gentle shake. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Joyce. The rain was coming down hard and creating such a ruckus on the outside of the car. "We're here." Joyce said.

  I slowly rose and tried to look outside the drenched windows of the car. "Where?"

  "The homeless shelter, remember?"

  I nodded. I unbuckled and opened the passenger side door. As the dome lights illuminated, Joyce's eyes widened as she got a better look at my face.

  Her eyes were transfixed on the scar that was on my face. She slowly outreached her hand and traced down with her fingers. "My God, you weren't kidding. What did they do to you?"

  I remembered Paige as she would always trail her fingers down my scar. It made me somewhat uncomfortable that someone else was doing it, so I slowly placed my hand around Joyce's wrist and pulled her hand away gently. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you. You are a wonderful woman and I thank you very much for this ride, and for dropping me off at a shelter. If I ever get my life straight, I would like to see you again?" Yes it was a question. Joyce was a bright positive woman and if I ever survived I would love to have her around in my life.

  Her wrist left the light grasp of my hand and she rotated and arched herself in the backseat of the car. She pulled out a card and handed it to me. "Since I no longer work for my husband, everything here is an invalid except for the phone number. If you ever need anything, give me a call, honey."

  I thanked her graciously for all of her help. I pulled over my hoodie and covered my head as the rain began to pound upon it. I shut the door to the 67 Chevy two and watched as Joyce left to begin her new life. I was wet and freezing, breath continued to escape from my facial extremities. I turned and walked into the shelter.

  I wasn't aware of the time, but the lights were off and the door was unlocked. Too bad for me, I had missed supper. I passed through the cafeteria and entered the sleeping area. There were so many people that were homeless and in need of help. Like everyone else, I had nothing but the clothes on my back. I looked around and found an empty cot. I pulled off my soaking wet hoodie, removed my shoes and laid down. There was coughing, sneezing, and quiet murmurs about the room. It was something different. For the past three years I had slept by myself, or at least with Paige. I was actually trying to get some shut eye in a room filled with people, living people.

  I didn't know if I got any sleep at all, but I continued to toss and turn. Anything and everything that created a noise, my ears captured. My main goal was just to try to get warm with a small comforter that was provided. I couldn't be anything more than grateful, for I had nothing else. When the Lightning flashes began to pierce themselves through the window and the thunder crashed shortly after, my eyes opened widely. With the show that nature was putting on, I couldn't confin
e myself to bed. I had to get up and watch it. I pulled myself from the cot, threw on my jacket and walked outside.

  It was my first night as a free woman. The rain came down in buckets and strangely in winter, the thunder and lightning pursued. As I watched the pouring streams of water fall from the roof, I was greeted by a voice. It was a man's voice, warm, kind and somewhat menacing.

  "You want a drink fucker?"

  I turned to my left and saw a man. He had his hood on as well, with smoke expelling from his face. "Pardon me?"

  "Do you want a drink, fucker?" He said again, much more slowly, while holding out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  I smiled and graciously and took the bottle, taking a long deep drink. I could feel its warmth as it coated my throat and enchanted my underbelly's. It was always that first sip that would give your body a warm like kick. Satisfied, I handed him back the bottle. "Thanks guy, I needed that."

  "No problem, little bu-day." As soon as he took a swig of the bottle and put it down, he handed me a pack of cigarettes as well. "Want one?"

  I pulled one out of the pack and lit it with the matches that were attached. "My God, you are a lifesaver." I said as inhaled deeply on the cigarette.

  Handing him back the pack of cigarettes, he spoke. "Once again, no problem little bu-day. I haven't seen you around here before, you new Scooter?"

  I smiled in between drags of my cigarette. "Yeah, something like that."

  "Got a lot on your mind, don't you?" He asked.

  "Yup." I nodded, even though I was standing next to him and I knew he couldn't see.

  "So tell me a story, anything." He said, giddy like a child.

  I had just met the man. I didn't know who he was, or what he was about, I just felt that he was safe. There were two tasks weighing heavily upon my mind. Knowing myself, I knew that talking it out would help. I was always open to opinions and suggestions. My way of life was an open partnership. I always sought the guidance of others, compiling their information with mine, hopefully making the right decision.

  I figured first thing was first though. I at least should know his name. Out of the night, cutting through the sound of the pattering rain, I asked. "Got a name, friend?"

  With absolutely no hesitation on his side, he answered. "Dumont, I am Dumont James. And you, little fucker, you got a name?" I smiled. He was rough around the edges, straight and direct, but he had a purity to himself and for that I found him to be noble.

  "I had a name, but then apparently I died. I suppose, since I will be involved in unlawful behavior, I give you my current alias."

  "Which is?" He asked while handing me the bottle of Jack.

  "Well, I suppose you can call me the Switchblade Mamma." I took another big swig the Jack Daniels.

  He looked at me and smiled. I could barely see his face as it was nearly hidden underneath his hood, but the flash of lightning brightly lit up his eyes, showing the blue. "And the story, little bu-day?"

  Handing Dumont back the bottle of Jack, I smiled and tried to think very hard of where I would start. The only thing that I was missing was a warm campfire, but I figured the lightning was enough. I took a deep breath and gave it my all. "Well, let's see. I worked a 9 to 5. I loved beer, karaoke, and Xbox. Due to the insecurities of my stepfather, his inability to gamble properly, his major debt was paid off in the form of a human being. I was kidnapped, beaten, kept underground in a musky, dank, dark, wooden prison for about a year. I went through surgery, implanted with God knows what kind of material. Apparently, it's some sort of new bio something metal. Something, that if is not maintained properly, I die. I recovered, I trained. I was thrown into a cage with other women who wanted nothing more than my head upon a platter. I had to forget about love and kindness and focus more on murder and destruction. I began to lose myself and go crazy. I fell in love and I found a new trade that makes me happy. I was drugged and date raped by an insanely hot cougar. I found out my mother was dead. I killed and I saved a life. I loved, once again and then I broke her heart. Finding my moment, I ran with the devil and I escaped. And now, I'm here talking to you."

  Dumont was silent. He then sprang to life, looking at me. "Holy shit, scooter, that was somthin fucked up! Now what little bu-day?

  I was silent, but I knew what the, now what, was. I was contemplating whether I should tell him or not. I guess it didn't matter. If Shit was vague enough, but who cared. Dumont was just like me. You had nothing but yourself. A person's demons are a person's demons. None of us were running to the police to tell anybody anything. We were all just trying to survive. In any moment you could be grabbed and forced to answer to either heaven or hell. I knew I was to answer to hell. So I finished my last will and testament to Dumont James. "With my last breath upon this earth, two men shall die by my hands. Eric Desmond, my stepfather and Paul Bishop, a vile man whose soul can only be described in the dictionary as wretched and empty."

  "Scooter, if it is retribution that you seek, if these men are truly evil and justice in no way could ever touch them, then by all means, little fucker, do your worst. Give me a hug though, little bu-day"

  I did, giggling. I sat next to Dumont, on the bench, in the middle of the night. Warmed by Jack Daniels and fueled by revenge, I gave Dumont a big hug. My mind had already been made up, but at least I had a different insight. At least it was from someone who wasn't filled with hate. I wish I could be like Dumont. The world was cruel and had so many capabilities of turning you the wrong way. But Dumont, he stayed pure no matter what. A force of positive energy from himself, and feeding it to others.