Suzy Spitfire Kills Everybody

by Joe Canzano

  Suzy dropped a dinner roll under the table. She bent down to retrieve it.

  She couldn’t see everyone’s sidearm from underneath the table, but she could see a bunch of them. They all had the blinking controller. So what was going on? Captain Orange might just be a little paranoid about something—or someone.

  When she poked her head back up above the table she caught the captain looking at his reflection in a mirror on the wall. No doubt he was impressed.

  Chapter 17

  Blurr watched his bubbly two-year-old daughter finish her whole wheat pancakes—sort of. Then he told his three-year old son to do the same, except for the “sort of” part.

  “Don’t you want your orange juice?” Blurr said.

  His daughter popped open her big blue eyes. “No juice! No juice!” Then she let out a shout.

  Blurr took away the juice and put it on the nearby counter.

  “Juice,” the girl said. “More juice!”

  He gave her back the juice. She laughed and didn’t pick it up. His son laughed at his daughter and then for no apparent reason unleashed an ear-splitting scream.

  Blurr wondered if he’d ever screamed like that as a kid. He couldn’t remember, although in theory it hadn’t been that long ago. Of course, his own father hadn’t been around to hear it because he was too busy being dead. Really, Mom had never explained the dad situation very well. She’d tried a couple of times, but it was always a different story. Had she been lying—or had she been too busy getting high to have any fucking clue?

  She hadn’t lasted too long, either. Dead from an overdose. Sprawled in a litter-filled bedroom, flat on her back, pockmarked face staring at the cracked ceiling—that’s where he’d found her. Used and abused by countless others just to get the thing she loved and needed most. And yet here he was, the picture of health and good fortune. Well, a man makes his own fortune, and he’d been working hard at it since he’d been ten years old.

  He glanced at the chaos in his kitchen. It was a tiptop room when his kids weren’t busy splashing things around. He smiled as his wife walked in.

  She could probably tell he’d been daydreaming—or maybe just remembering. “What are you thinking about?” she said. “Did they eat?”

  Blurr stood up and wrapped her in his arms. “Yeah, they ate.” They’d been married for five years and she was still magnetic to him. “I’m thinking about how much I like this kitchen,” he said. “I’m thinking about how our kids don’t know how good they’ve got it—and how it’s only going to get better.”

  “It doesn’t need to be better,” she said, resting her head on his neck. “Everything’s great the way it is. Don’t be greedy.”

  He laughed. “I’m not greedy. I just want to be on top.”

  “You are on top. Think about where you came from.”

  “I do, honey. I think about it all the time. And I want to get as far away from there as possible.”

  “Well, you don’t really need to take this trip, do you?”

  “Yeah, I do—and I’ve got to go. Banks is outside.”

  “Are you sure this won’t be long?”

  He smiled again. She was so sexy when she pouted.

  “I'll be quick.”

  He kissed her goodbye, and she felt good pressed against him. He tried to leave but she grabbed him and kissed him again—much longer and harder, with lips that pulsed. He gave her bottom a gentle squeeze.

  “I love you,” she said, and she pulled him closer. “Be careful.”

  “I will. I love you, too.”

  “And don’t be greedy.”

  He just laughed again and went out of the house to where Banks was waiting in a hover-car. He tossed a duffle bag into the trunk and then slid into the vehicle.

  “So, Banks, are you ready to roam the cosmos?”

  Banks had been quiet ever since the death of that criminal from Los Pocos.

  Banks just grunted as he set their destination and let the car drive. “I’m ready to uphold the law.”

  Blurr rolled his eyes. “You sound like a robot pointing to a corny recruiting poster. This isn’t about the law. It’s about justice.”

  “Aren’t they the same thing?”

  “Yeah, sure. But you know they’re not. It’s never been that way, not ever.”

  “I know,” Banks said with a sigh. “Maybe back in caveman times.”

  “Maybe. I guess if the guy in the cave next door was an asshole, you could just pick up a rock and crack his skull open.”

  “Yeah, but did that solve the problem?”

  “Why not? A guy who’s just had his head smashed in usually stops being a problem, right? Banks, you have a lot of potential. You could go far, but there’s one thing holding you back—you’re too damned obsessed with the law.”

  “Blurr, I’m a cop. I follow the law.”

  “Yeah, but a good man never lets the law interfere with his intelligence. These Los Pocos people are a disease. They sell poison to weaklings who end up dragging everyone around them down to their level—and their level is all about waking up dead in a pile of garbage. They should be wiped out.”

  “I know what you’re saying, but I don’t like fighting injustice with more injustice. Some people are born into bad circumstances.”

  “Bullshit! Everybody knows right from wrong. It’s not injustice if the right people get hurt.”

  “Fine. But I like to think we can aim higher.”

  Blurr gave a snort. “I knew some good people when I was a kid... They were trying to ‘aim higher,’ but they couldn’t get away from everyone who was aiming low.” He turned away from Banks and stared out the window, and then he spoke softly, almost to himself. “They weren’t survivors, and they’re gone now—eaten by the world around them. That’s not gonna be me.”

  Banks grunted. “He who lives by the sword dies by the sword. Just something I heard.”

  “I don’t carry a sword, Banks. In fact, I carry one of these—check it out.” Blurr reached into his jacket and pulled out a Smith & Wesson SD 2000 pulse pistol. He held it up so Banks could see it. “What do you think?”

  “Nice,” Banks said. “I fired one of those down at the range; it’s a great weapon. Expensive.”

  “Yeah,” Blurr said. “It was pricey, but I just came into a nice stash of cash—a real nice stash. Non-taxable, if you know what I mean. ”

  Banks was silent, so Blurr smiled to himself and decided it was time to change the subject. “Anyway, I was looking over the current info. If our fugitives follow the quickest way to Choccoban, they’ll go through some hostile space. Pirates, border disputes, and all kinds of potential crap.”

  “Right,” Banks said. “So I guess we’ll have to do the same.”

  “Yeah. Hopefully we’ll find them before someone else does.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have put out a broadcast message to every ship in the area. Maybe we shouldn’t have offered such a big reward.”

  Blurr shrugged. “I’ll admit our strategy could backfire. On the one hand, everyone will be looking for them. On the other hand, with every half-assed mercenary out there playing cowboy cop, someone might accidentally kill them.”

  “So why did we do it?”

  “Because it’s more likely someone will spot them than actually capture or engage them.”

  “Yeah, but Suzy Spitfire is the one who knows where the brain is, right? What if someone accidentally kills her?”

  Blurr put away his gun and considered the possibilities. “That would be too bad,” he said. “She’s a reckless girl, and it could happen. But I’m willing to bet she stays alive.”

  Chapter 18

  “In addition to running a health club, I was the star of several major plays,” the captain said. “Of course, that was when I wasn’t too busy with my band. When I was nineteen we opened up for the Nuclear Nastards as well as Supreme Conch Shell. But then we broke up. The others just weren’t ready to deal with our impending fame.”

  Suzy was wa
lking beside him as they strolled down the Heartbreaker’s observation deck.

  Bob was talking nonstop.

  “But I was an incredibly gifted singer,” he continued. “So of course people missed me. I kept getting messages from everyone begging me to return. But no one understood the problems I was dealing with—the pressure.”

  Suzy just nodded her head while imagining how badly Bob’s band had probably sucked. Then as they entered a golden passageway bright with windows, Suzy was struck by the power of the dense starscape outside. In her head, she heard the sound of her mother’s voice, “You can never come home again.” Suzy winced and tried to knock the words out of her mind. Eventually, the passageway opened up into an airy lounge similar to the crew lounge a few decks above.

  “It’s so hard finding good bandmates,” he said. “Especially when everyone is jealous of your talent.”

  “Right, sounds tough,” Suzy said. “Hey, how do we get to the hangar deck?”

  “We can go there later, if you like,” he said. “But first let’s have another drink. I’d like to show you some videos of me as Hamlet.”

  “Sure. I’d love to see that. Also, the engine room. Who’s in charge of it? I mean how did you find someone to run things?”

  They arrived at a fully equipped wet bar. By now Suzy was sure that in the not-too-distant past the Heartbreaker had been a private luxury yacht custom-built for someone who was oozing rivers of cash. It was fully armed because rich people like to keep their stuff—and exactly how Bob and his crew had managed to steal it was still a mystery. Nobody she’d seen so far looked remotely capable of pulling off such a heist, but she decided to stay alert, anyway. After all, it’s very important to not underestimate your asshole opponents.

  There were two other people in the lounge; a lanky young dude in a frilly shirt and sombrero, and a trashy-looking girl in a sliver-length skirt and a pair of five-inch pumps. They were sitting on a sofa, clawing each other like a pair of peacocks digging for grubs. Suzy wondered if the guy was going to keep the hat on when he started banging her. Yeah, probably. After all, he was her big, bad bandito.

  Suzy tried not to laugh. Then she went behind the bar and found a bottle of Jack Daniels. This was too perfect; Bob was already tipsy from trying to keep up with her at dinner. He also hadn’t realized how little she’d actually had to drink. She poured herself a shot and gave one to Bob as well. He grimaced as he pounded it down. She did the same and then immediately poured two more.

  He grinned. “Ah, you shouldn’t drink so much. I might try and take advantage of you.”

  “That’s okay. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yes, I suppose you can. You’ve been evading the authorities for quite some time.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been lucky.”

  “It’s been said that it’s better to be lucky than to be good.”

  Suzy leaned forward and licked her lips. “I’ve been good, I’ve been bad—and lots of times someone got lucky. Now drink that shot.”

  He stared at her for a long second. Then he snatched the shot and gulped it down.

  She poured him another one. “So, tell me, where did you get this ship? It’s pretty amazing.”

  “We stole it!” he said with pride. “Right out from under their noses. A pair of rich socialite types without the stomach for a real fight.”

  From the corner of her eye, Suzy saw the couple on the couch put their grope-and-slobber session into overdrive. She also heard the guy complain that the couch was a little too lumpy, and then the girl said something about the lighting being “a shade too bright.”

  Suzy nudged the shot closer to Bob as she grabbed her own empty glass and swigged down a mouthful of air. Bob hesitated, like he was confused about something, but he wasn’t sure what. Then he leered and gulped his shot down.

  Suzy smiled and poured him another one.

  Bob reached out and put his hand on top of hers. “So, what do you say about joining our crew, Suzy? I think you’d be a great addition. You’re as wild and rowdy as the rest of us, right?”

  “Right,” she said with a sideways glance. “You like wild women, Bob?”

  He chuckled. “Not all of them. But you seem interesting.”

  “Thanks. You seem interesting, too. But I kind of like doing things my way—and I don’t know about your crew. How can I trust a bunch of thieves?”

  Bob paused as the two people on the sofa tromped past. Obviously, they were headed for a cabin. Suzy watched the woman warrior hobble along on her incapacitating shoes while Pancho Villa smiled beneath his crooked flying saucer hat.

  Bob lowered his voice. “I don’t really trust anyone completely, Suzy—because you’re right, any one of these people could rob me any time. So I’ve taken certain…measures.”

  Suzy looked around, imitating Bob’s cautious tone. She whispered, “What kind of measures?”

  He whispered back, “I can’t tell you here. Would you like to come to my cabin? We’ll be free to talk there.”

  Suzy gave a little laugh. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 19

  On the way to Bob’s cabin, Suzy kept trying to learn the layout of the ship. For sure, it was an impressive vessel—very modern and heavily armed. But did it have an armory? Did it have a real fighting force? And was there anyone on board who was more comfortable holding a weapon rather than a martini glass? The answer to all three questions seemed to be “no.”

  The ship was tip-top but the crew was crap. Suzy became more and more convinced that they hadn’t been doing this for long, and they wouldn’t be doing it much longer. If her own ship (she was calling it “hers” for now) hadn’t been disabled, and if Ricardo hadn’t screwed things up, she would have easily blown this boat full of boozers out of the solar system.

  She found herself wondering about Ricardo and Maria. Were they okay? Did it matter whether she escaped this place with or without them?

  She had to admit, she wasn’t a big fan of Los Pocos. But she also wasn’t sure how deeply these two were involved. Apparently, Maria had some sort of relationship with Pablo, who was a top guy. So that could be deep. And Ricardo was her sexy brother who was obviously not trustworthy but did have his good points. So that could be deep with a little frosting on top—a good snack, but no real nutritional value.

  With a loud bonking noise, Bob crashed into the door of his cabin. Apparently, he’d expected it to open by itself. No doubt about it, Bob was drunk.

  He laughed and pushed his thumbprint onto the thumb-spot and the door opened.

  It was a serious suite, big enough to hold a sizeable mess. Clothes, boxes, guitars, electronic gear, dishes, food, and empty bottles were scattered around like confetti. The epic junk collection made it harder for Suzy to scan the room, looking for anything of interest. There was a king-size bed with piles of jumbled sheets.

  Bob said, “Please excuse the clutter. I’ve been meaning to clean up, but with all the battles going on I just didn’t get to it. All this stuff is plunder, of course.”

  “Of course,” she said. But she had her doubts. She guessed most of the “plunder” had come from a retail store; if Bob had been lucky, he’d bought it with a coupon. She watched him go to a control center near the bed and start fiddling around, trying to operate the wall-sized screen nearby.

  “Now where is that damned video of me playing Hamlet? You’ve got to see this.”

  She laughed to herself and hoped for the monitor screen to explode. She also watched Bob remove his pistol and toss it into a wall safe that opened via eye scan. He grinned as he did it.

  “Sorry, dear,” he said. “But I’ve got to be sensible. If you behave I’ll give you a surprise later.”

  She flashed a little smile. She guessed he wouldn’t be giving her anything later—mainly because she wasn’t going to “behave” the way he was probably expecting. But of course, he had no clue how low the odds actually were. As Dad had often said, “It’s all about the math.”

&nbs
p; After Bob closed the safe he removed a few less dangerous items from his pockets and tossed them onto a dresser. One of them was his allcom. Another object looked similar but was apparently something else.

  Suzy picked it up. “What’s this?”

  Bob was now drinking from an open bottle of wine he’d found on the bed. “Ah, that’s my controller.” He looked around quick, as if someone else could be hiding in the room. He lowered his voice and said, “Remember when I told you I don’t trust anyone? Well, this device controls all kinds of things on this ship. And it’s mine because I’m the captain.”

  “Why don’t you just run the program through your allcom?”

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask Alice. She built the bloody thing.”

  “Who’s Alice?”

  “Alice is the ship’s engineer; she’s brilliant with technology. She’s the woman you saw at the bar earlier, in the red dress.”

  Suzy nodded—that woman. The one who’d seemed jealous of—what? The attention Bob was slathering onto Suzy? How ridiculous that she would be the only one on board with a brain. But lots of girls go for the wrong guys, and lots of guys go for the wrong girls. It was a DNA-level defect older than squishy amoebas.

  Bob snatched the device from Suzy’s hand. “You ask a lot of questions, Suzy. I’m starting to wonder about your intentions. Let’s not worry about all this stuff right now. Let’s talk about us.”

  “Us?”

  He moved closer to her. She could smell his wine and whiskey-soaked breath.

  “Yes, of course,” he said with slurred speech. “Two rough and rowdy pirates. You, me, naked on this bed.”

  He pointed at the dresser.

  Suzy was about to laugh—but then he hit her.

  There was no warning. With a gleeful shout he swung his hand and smashed her hard across the face.