Body Parts raca-1

by Kit Crumb

  “This has nothing to do with your contract. Jan is sick, apparently got a little food poisoning— maybe from salmon at the big dinner at the mansion. Not sick enough to need medical care, but pretty sick. Anyway she asked if we could come get you.”

  Crystal was thunderstruck; she’d spent the past twenty-four hours vilifying everyone at Lewd and Lascivious, in particular the director, and especially Hubble who she viewed as the person who started her in the business.

  “If you draw me a map to the mansion,” she said, “I’ll leave right away. I’ve got a rental car. Do you know how long it’ll take to get there?”

  Hubble could see that he’d won her over and slowly entered the room.

  “Mr. Simms feels responsible and sent me to provide transportation. I’ll follow you to the rental place in town where we can turn in your car. I’ll drive you from there.”

  Jan must have gotten sick during the day, too sick to stay up until eleven. But why didn’t she call during the day and leave a message or something? Jan knew she’d worry.

  “Sure, I just need to shower and change, you don’t need to wait,” Crystal said.

  “You sure you’ll be alright?” Crystal just glared her answer.

  “OK, sure. I’ll just wait for you in the front of the Hertz lot. If I don’t see you pulling in within the hour I’ll come looking,” Hubble said, with a smile.

  Crystal stood in the middle of the room watching Hubble walk out the door, then walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside, peeking through to watch him pull out of the motel parking lot.

  Jan had said in her last phone call that she had to keep her cell phone on her so no one would find it.

  Picking up the motel phone, Crystal dialed 0 to get an outside line then punched in Jan’s cell number. She let it ring twenty times. Nothing.

  As she climbed out of the shower and began toweling off a wave of relief passed through her. She was going to see Jan and be free from this horrible pornography business. But as she dressed and packed, she began to wonder just how sick Jan was. Hubble had said not sick enough to need a doctor. It didn’t matter; she’d bundle her up, throw her stuff in the Subaru and take her home.

  She spotted Hubble in a black and red Dodge Caravan and gave him a feeble wave as she drove into the Hertz Rent-a-Car parking lot. Hubble’s intentions seemed OK, but something just didn’t feel right.

  Fifteen minutes later when he opened the rear hatch of the Caravan so she could stash her two suitcases, she couldn’t help but notice that the entire back was packed with cardboard boxes filled with videotapes. She shuddered and could only guess the contents.

  Hubble caught her hesitation at seeing the boxes of tapes and with a leering smile said, “You’re in some of those.”

  She ignored the comment, tossed her two bags on the boxes of tapes and walked around to the passenger side of the van, got in and fastened her shoulder harness.

  She ran scenarios about how sick Jan was through her mind until finally she knew she’d drive herself crazy if she kept it up.

  “How far to the mansion, I mean how long will it take?”

  Hubble didn’t answer for a minute and she was about to repeat her question when he spoke.

  “Sorry, just doing a little figuring. About six hours to the turn off, then another half an hour to the property. You might as well get comfortable.”

  But she couldn’t get comfortable and began chewing her gum. She couldn’t stop thinking about Jan, and the feeling that something just wasn’t right.

  “Did you see Jan? How sick was she?”

  “Actually, I was still in L.A. when I got the call from Dr. Simms. You know most of the women that fulfill their contracts and end up at the mansion could drop off the face of the earth and no one would care. But Dr. Simms really takes an interest in the welfare of the girls, considers them like family. Your friend is lucky.”

  She felt a cold chill at Hubble’s drop off the face of the earth comment.

  “Jan and I have a lot of friends and family,” Crystal bleated.

  “Yeah right, your parents are eagerly awaiting the next release from Lewd and Lascivious to see who their daughter’s banging,” Hubble said.

  Crystal was suddenly frightened and now began popping her gum. Hubble’s attitude had changed. But she was determined to put up a strong front.

  “Well, maybe not our parents. Shit, but a lot of friends. I’ve been calling them almost every night.”

  Hubble gave a little laugh, then turned a half smile on Crystal. “Sure you have. Hey, remember me? I’m the guy who recruited you.”

  He changed his voice to a falsetto.

  “Oh Mr. Hubble, I wouldn’t be doing this but I need the money.” Then with a sneer, in his own voice he said, “If I’d laid out the money you’d have blown me on the spot. So don’t lie to me.”

  Crystal felt revealed and vulnerable, but most of all pissed.

  “Get fucked,” Crystal said.

  “Don’t tempt me, bitch. There’s a rest stop up ahead.”

  As they sped down the freeway, her heart pounded and once again her mind went into overdrive. And so did her jaw, chomping on her gum until she had rendered it to a tasteless pulp.

  “Hey, get rid of that fucking gum.” Hubble hit the switch that rolled down the passenger side window. “Right now!”

  She gave Hubble the finger as she took the gum from her mouth, and rolling it into a ball between her thumb and index finger, flicked it out the window.

  Just as the rest stop came into sight, Hubble slowed and put on his turn signal, turned and looked at Crystal cowering in the space between the seat and the door, then started laughing. He turned off the blinker and accelerated. “Just kidding, don’t pee your pants. Simms wants you delivered unmolested.”

  Crystal was in a panic. Delivered? What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Oh shit,” Crystal said. She wasn’t responding to Hubble’s taunts but was looking at traffic. Suddenly the cars that had been jockeying for position, each trying to get ahead of the other, began to collide. Crystal gasped then began to point. “Stop the van.”

  Hubble was looking at Crystal, who was now bouncing in her seat as she pointed.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Then he looked back at traffic. “Holy shit!”

  “Pull over!

  “Forget it, there’ll be a cop along in a minute,” Hubble said.

  Crystal unbuckled her seat belt and began climbing into the back with the tapes

  “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Hubble yelled.

  “Goddamn it, pull over or these tapes go out the back.”

  Hubble swung a vicious backhand intended for her face. “You bitch, when I get my hands on you.”

  Just out of reach, Crystal struck out at Hubble’s hand with a tape smacking him on the knuckles. “Pull over. Now!”

  “OK, I’m pulling over, calm down.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brad myers sped up to within two feet of the rear bumper of a shiny silver SUV then tapped the brake of his BMW for the tenth time, creating another few feet between them. He was desperate to get around the SUV or get him to speed up. His way was totally blocked, an ageing VW bus, an SUV and a line of 18-wheelers bogged the slow lane.

  Brad eyed the silver SUV. “Sport Utility Vehicle. I bet they don’t even take that thing off-road,” he said, speaking to no one in particular. He accelerated even closer. “Come on, goddamn it, take a hint.”

  Dan Roman was also in a hurry as he drove north up I-5. The four 18-wheelers in the right lane made it impossible to pass, and there was no excuse for the BMW ahead of him to be dragging its heels as it kept surging forward then slowing, then blasting forward again.

  “I’m just going to follow that BMW next time it speeds up, maybe he’ll take the hint,” Dan whispered to his two sleeping passengers.

  Dan was taking his girlfriend, Kim, and her younger sister, Judy, up the coast to a popular bed and breakfast; he’d been
driving for hours.

  Two of the big rigs were loaded to capacity, two were empty and heading home but stuck behind a Dodge Caravan trapped behind a ‘68 VW bus driving wide open at fifty-eight miles an hour. The driver of the silver SUV glanced in his rear view mirror as the BMW rode up to within a couple of feet of his rear bumper.

  “Would you look at that, Marge?” George Shepherd turned to his wife. “We’re being tailgated.”

  Marge kept crocheting as she turned in her seat to have a look at the BMW. “Just tap your brakes, then when he backs off, slow down, that’ll teach him.” Marge turned her huge bulk around, unbuckling her seat belt in order to reach the skein of yarn that had tangled at her feet.

  As the VW neared the crest of the hill, the driver had to down shift, dropping his speed to forty-five.

  At first, it seemed that Marge’s advice had worked; as soon as George tapped his brakes, the BMW dropped back several car lengths.

  When Brad Meyers, the driver of the BMW, glanced into his rear view mirror, he was shocked. There was a Chevy Nova so close that he couldn’t see the hood.

  The Dodge Caravan in the right lane saw George slow his SUV and took the opportunity to cut in front just as the big rig immediately behind him spotted the same opening. Unfortunately, he did not notice the Caravan’s lane change and accelerated toward the space. The Dodge swerved back into the slow lane leaving the space for the semi.

  Brad stomped on the gas just as George hit the brakes of his SUV, slowing from seventy down to fifty-five.

  When Brad shifted his vision from the rear view mirror to the windshield, he hit the brakes, simultaneously cranking the wheel of the BMW hard to the left to avoid colliding with the SUV.

  “Oh shit!” Brad shouted

  The angle Brad intended to put him just left of the huge SUV was drastically altered when the Chevy Nova, following Brad’s deceleration, was too close to avoid slamming into the rear end of the BMW, pushing it to right angles with the SUV and into a roll.

  George instinctively hit the gas of his SUV when he saw the BMW roll, sending the big vehicle surging forward, filling the space it had just created, that was about to be filled by the eighteen-wheeler.

  The truck driver saw the space vanish. With his forward momentum working against him, he braced for collision, sounding his air horn seconds before he rammed the SUV just forward of the rear wheel, tossing the sport utility vehicle onto its side.

  The black BMW and the silver SUV looked like a pair of dice as they rolled, one in front of the other, at nearly fifty mph.

  Just as the Chevy Nova slowed, the big rig’s trailer began to slide around until it shimmied and skidded into the Nova’s rear with such force that the Chevy was launched into the tumbling BMW. Dan’s girlfriend and sister lay curled up on the back seat of the Chevy Nova, spooning, nestled against the padded back, seat belts long forgotten and pushed out of the way, sound asleep.

  When the careening big rig’s trailer slammed the Chevy, the two girls were pressed into the deeply padded backrest from the acceleration. As their forward motion slammed the vehicle into the tumbling BMW, the Nova’s forward speed instantly dropped from eighty-five to less than twenty. The girls flew over the passenger backrest at sixty miles per hour where they pierced the windshield, shot across the hood and hit the BMW with flailing motions, falling listlessly to the ground.

  For nearly a mile, the thousands of pounds of steel that made up the SUV, BMW, Chevy Nova and big rig skidded and rolled until the grade of the hill they were climbing brought the macabre parade of vehicles to a stand still.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Crystal whispered, viewing the carnage through the huge windshield of the Dodge Caravan. Hubble had pulled onto the shoulder of the highway having forgotten Crystal’s defiance at the sight of the accident.

  “Goddamn.”

  Crystal found a bundle of flares in the back, leaned forward and dropped them into Hubble’s lap. “Here, make yourself useful.”

  He glared at her for an instant then got out of the van, flares in hand, without a word.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Unit 88, multiple vehicle accident, respond.”

  Claire unclipped the handheld mic and got the location from dispatch. “Medford Ambulance must be out of the area,” she said, looking across at Rye with a sly smile. “I think we just moved up the ladder.”

  Once on the interstate, it was another eight miles to the scene of the accident, but within a mile, traffic was at a stand still and Rye had to take the last seven miles on the shoulder of the road.

  “Look,” Rye said, pointing.

  Claire looked up from her clipboard and counted three separate swirls of black smoke. “Think I should alert the hospital to possible burn victims?” Claire said.

  “Let’s wait and see what we’ve got.”

  It was a good call; when they rounded the final curve on the interstate, it was evident that the fire trucks had the vehicle fires under control.

  “Pull up there,” Claire said pointing at a fireman who was flagging them down. The ambulance had barley stopped before they jumped out.

  “Got two real bad ones, through the windshield,” Fireman Jake Bradshaw said, pointing toward a crumpled pile of steel that had once been the Chevy Nova.

  Running to the rear of the ambulance, Rye popped the massive double doors and grabbed his jump kit. “Where again?”

  “Far shoulder, crumpled but not rolled, no fire,” Jake said.

  “Thanks!”

  While Rye zigzagged his way around the wrecks en route to the Chevy, Claire stayed back, getting an overall evaluation from Jake.

  “One trapped, jaws-of-life are on the way, couple in the SUV look pretty bad, she wasn’t belted.”

  “What about the driver of the big rig?” Claire asked.

  “Harnessed in, rode out the accident and is…” Jake looked at the big fire truck and at the reclining figure, “…there, being treated for shock,” he said, pointing. “Driver of the Chevy is pinned behind the wheel, conscious, but not lucid, fire chief is with him now, figured we’d let you guys deal with extraction.”

  Rye took one look at the two women lying at the base of the BMW and spun around.

  “Claire,” Rye yelled back across the interstate. “Through the windshield, facial, head and neck.”

  “Thanks Jake, got to dash,” Claire said, as she turned to run back to the ambulance for the backboard.

  As she pulled the wooden board with handles from its place in the back, Claire flashed on how times had changed. Ten years ago, passing through a windshield would have meant cuts and lacerations; now windshields were a sheet of glass between two sheets of plastic. Human impact now meant punching a hole, with the trapped glass forming teeth like shards that shred and rip.

  When she first got sight of the sisters and the Chevy Nova she realized how lucky they were. “How they doing?” she asked.

  “Not bad, really. Apparently when the Chevy stopped they kept moving. The older of the two,” Rye indicated the young woman directly in front of the crumpled grill of the Chevy, “struck the windshield lengthwise instead of head first, popping out the entire sheet of plastic and glass. Looks like the speed of her body was slowed by the impact so that she came down on the hood.”

  Claire picked up the narrative as she moved to the young woman who lay crumpled at the foot of the BMW. “Not so lucky, her younger companion here. She looks to have sailed through the space once occupied by the windshield doing nearly sixty I’d say, until the BMW stopped her.”

  Claire knelt over the young woman and began the process of locating injury, slicing away clothes as she found various breaks and fractures.

  Twenty minutes later the second ambulance arrived and was transporting the sisters as the fire and rescue team applied the jaws-of-life to the driver’s door of the Chevy Nova.

  They moved on to the SUV, lying on its side. Rye climbed up and extended a hand for Claire, opened the driver’s side door l
ike a hatch and propped it open with his jump kit.

  The driver was conscious, though hardly moving, and seemed to be straining at the seatbelt.

  “Sir, my partner and I are here to help you, please hold still. I’ll get you out,” Rye said, lowering himself down so he was just behind the driver’s seat. Claire lowered herself down, hanging for a minute by her arms then dropping less then a foot. “Can you tell me your name, sir?” Rye said.

  “George Shepard. Marge, where’s Marge?”

  “Is that your wife, sir?”

  George didn’t reply. “Sir, your belt release is jammed so I’m going to cut the belt to get you out, OK? Is that OK?” Rye said, getting the retractable razor from his holster. Still there was no reply. Rye looked over at Claire. “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s in shock.

  “OK, George, on the count of three I’m going to cut the seat belt that’s holding you in place, I’ll keep you from falling. All you have to do is relax.”

  Still no response.

  Claire reached up and grabbed the edge of the passenger door. “I’m going to climb out and see if I can spot Jake and get him to open the back hatch.”

  Rye gave Claire a thumbs-up.

  Looking around from her vantage point on the side of the overturned SUV, Claire spotted Jake interviewing the driver of the big rig.

  “Jake!” Claire yelled, waving so he could spot her. “Need some assist with a shock victim, bring a friend.”

  Jake and another firefighter jogged over, peeled off their heavy jackets and climbed up next to her.

  “Looks like you’ve got a pretty big boy down there,” Jake said. Rye looked up at the beefy fire and rescue team leader. “Driver here is deep in shock, his wife is curled up in the back. I’d like to go for her first.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s leave him be, and clear the way to the rear hatch. You and Claire work on the wife, we’ll get the hatch open.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Rye said, as he watched Claire gracefully come back down into the van.

  The crumpled form of Marge Shepard lay behind the front passenger seat; the rear seats apparently laid flat for the trip. Because the SUV had rolled, objects had become projectiles. Rye gingerly stepped around water bottles and books to crouch next to Marge’s body. Claire was watching from the front of the van. He looked back at her, understanding her reluctance to join him.