by S. R. Rashad
"Hello, uncle!' he yells
Jen tries yelling but she can barely be heard with her gagged mouth, her yell is too muffled.
He leans in closely, tilts his head trying to fit his face into the opening in the boarded up old window.
“Uncle Peter, are you there?”
He doesn't hear a response.
He goes and rings the bell again. No one comes. But there’s a spare key his mother hides under one for the many potted plants in the garden. He believes he knows where it is. His mother, being partial to ferns, will likely have placed a key under one of them. After turning over just a few, he finds the spare. But now that he has the key, he is very hesitant to use it because he knows he’s not supposed to enter the cottage uninvited but what if his uncle Peter is hurt or needs help. He thinks for a second, yeah. He has to go in and see. He puts the key in, turns the lock and opens the door. This is a big VonNetzer no no. Never break the family rules, ever.
Peter enters his sister's home and he’s hit immediately by a wonderful and familiar smell, lemon roasted chicken and garlic mashed potatoes fill the house. The smell takes him back to his childhood. This is a meal that was a favorite at the VonNetzer home, usually served after a big hunt. Peter is very pleased. His sister comes down the grand staircase, which is centered in the middle of her old Victorian home, to greet her brother.
“There you are, my sweet.”
“Lemon roasted chicken, sis?”
“Of course, Peter.”
“Yes, of course.”
“It is fitting. You are hungry, sweet?”
“Indeed, I've worked up a hunger.”
“Great! I'll gather the children and we’ll eat shortly.”
“Fine.”
Peter goes and sits in the drawing room till he's called.
Nancy rounds up her two older children but the younger is nowhere to be found. Everyone enters the large dining area directly adjacent to the drawing room, taking their appropriate places at the table. Nancy enjoys her old ways, with its dining formalities. At either head of the fancifully arranged table, sit Nancy and Peter. There is one visibly empty chair. This makes Nancy upset. Everyone knows not to miss family dinner.
“Has anyone seen Chuck?” She says looking at the two children who are present.
“The last time I saw him. He was on his way to get you, uncle Peter.” Says Nancy’s middle child.
Peter looks concerned, and so does his sister. Just then, Chuck comes running in…
“Sorry sorry.” He says nervously, looking over with dread at his mother, then at both his brother and sister, but he fails to look in Peter’s direction, more cause for worry on Peter’s part.
Something is off. Peter’s keen senses detect something, it’s the familiar smell of blood. He looks Chuck over for tells, signs, indications that he has been somewhere he shouldn’t. Chuck washed his hands clean before dinner but he failed to change his shirt. And now the faint dried blood calls Peter. As Chuck nervously reaches for the pitcher of water in front of him, he sees there is blood on his shirt sleeve. He jerks his arm back quickly, rolling up his shirt sleeve, tucking it under his jacket, hiding the blood stain, but not quickly enough for the sharp eyes of his uncle not to take notice.
“Chuck, what happened, there?”
“where?”
“The blood?”
Chuck looks at his now rolled up sleeve, tucked under his jacket that hides the blood and says. “Nothing.”
“Chuck?” Peter says firmly.
Chuck is afraid. He searches for an answer.
Nancy is wondering about the nature of this exchange between her brother and son. She knows Chuck wouldn’t do anything outside of what he was supposed to do, now would he?
Peter doesn’t wait for Chuck to reply. Instead, he looks directly at his sister, then the two look at Chuck. Since Peter and Nancy were kids, they never had to speak much to each other. Their eyes always told the story. With almost telepathic accuracy, Peter’s look conveys all Nancy needs to know. Nancy is becoming angry and she makes it known.
“This was going to be a fine family dinner with your uncle returned to us, but someone has ruined it…” She looks at Chuck with scorn, then looks to her other children and says angrily “Dinner is over!”
After meeting with Richie, he comes back with great info. He would’ve loved to introduce Laura to Richie. He thinks Laura would get a kick out of his eccentric, freaky, genius redheaded friend and he’s sure Richie would love this 5’10 leggy, light skin, fire cracker of a mulatto, but Richie hates making new friends, even attractive attorneys. So Laura had to wait in the dreary, seedy café the whole time with the punks, low lives and cyber criminals, an hour and a half, trying not to touch anything or look anyone in the eyes, while he was gone. Other than the somewhat enjoyable coffee, the whole ordeal put her off. And he sees she is clearly upset.
“Can we go now?” Laura says with an agitated look on her face as soon as he enters the café.
“Yeah, we got what we need. Did you make any friends while I was away?” he chuckles.
“Oh, not only are you a phony cop, you’re a phony comedian as well I see.” Laura says as she is surely not in the mood for jokes.
“Ok, fair enough. You got me there. Well, good news, we know where the truck is.”
“Yeah, how about our girl?” she says with extreme concern.
“Lets leave this place. Though I know most here are anything but law abiding citizens, I think it best we go somewhere else before I say anymore.”
“You got my resounding agreement on this!”
They leave the seedy urban pirate hangout and head to his place.
"Chuck. Chuckie. My sweet sweet boy, what have you done?” Nancy says as sweetly and as calmly as she could under the circumstance, knowing something has to be up, in order to get Peter agitated like this. Chuck is hesitant to answer. But peter already knows something is wrong. Not waiting for a lie, or the truth for that matter, Peter excuses himself abruptly and quickly heads back to his cottage.
Nancy and Peter will both soon learn that chuck disobeyed his mother’s rule. He entered his uncle’s private space, seeing Jen there, like that, he couldn’t help but free his uncle’s prized possession.
Bleeding, scared, and alone, Laura's Bambi runs through the dark night covered estate. Still, in a great deal of pain, groggy, head pounding, a huge hole in her hand, and a missing index finger, she wants to rest, to get her bearings. She sees horses near a barn which isn’t far off. She takes this as a good omen, being that she loves horses. She runs to the barn. Not knowing that it’s still part of her host’s estate, she thinks it may be a good place to rest for awhile.
Chapter 30
Let's Go Get This Fucker
We can’t hide from the inevitable. There are places we are meant to go. And things we are meant to do. And people we are meant to be.
It's time for Laura to go in deep. They head back to his place. He intends to have her be more than a dainty, latte drinking, briefcase carrying, mani pedi princess. He needs her to be something more. After all, her name is danger and that's what he needs her to be, someone who can help him take down the monster, someone who is able to get physical. What he's hoping for is a female version of himself, a warrior. In his mind, he feels Laura could be a fierce Amazonian warrior, but he'll settle for a woman who isn't afraid to punch someone if need be, who isn't afraid to carry a gun and shoot it when the need calls for. Because if she's coming with him and they're face to face with the good doctor, he needs her to be an asset, not a liability.
He walks her over to the wall where he mounts his disguises, but this isn't what he wants to show her. It's what’s behind this, his real treasure, that she needs to see.
"Here, Laura! Have you ever seen one of these up close and personal." He asks as he opens a small closet conveniently hidden behind a wall of props and disguises, revealing enough weapons to arm a small rebel army; handguns, rifles, shotguns, assault rifles and sem
i automatics.
Surprisingly, she seems to be very unimpressed with his collection. "Guns, yeah. I've seen guns before."
"Yeah, but the real question is have you ever shot one before, because if we get into a hairy situation, I need to know you are ok with this."
"You mean using a gun. Listen,” she says sharply “I wasn't always what you see here. I was raised in the country by a real outdoorsman and survivalist, one of the first black rangers who also happened to want boys, but instead got me and my sister. And this minor detail didn't stop him from taking us out into the woods with him on hunting and fishing expeditions. Where we were taught to make camp in some of the coldest, wettest, swampiest, or mountainous places. And I learned to hunt, shoot, kill, skin and quarter more than my fair share of game, mister. And as a matter of fact, on my sixteenth birthday, I was given my first automatic hand gun as a birthday present. And if you still have any doubts, for fun when my sister and I were bored, we’d see which of us could take apart, clean and reassemble our weapons the fastest. So yeah, I would say I'm familiar."
"Is that so." He says with a smile, extremely impressed, knowing he was right about his choice in Laura.
"Yeah, that's so."
"Well, if it is, then I'm impressed, very impressed."
"Well, it is, and you damn well should be. Now, give me a gun and let's go get this fucking maniac away from my girl."
"Good, Laura! Damn good!” He says with excited enthusiasm. "That's what I like to hear. And hey, you know what, you got my respect. So why don't you pick out the gun you want."
"I will." I say with a confidence he probably didn't expect. I look through all the decent hand guns, but I’m immediately drawn to the 40 cal SPS 2011 automatic with extended clip. She’s a beauty that packs a punch, like me, perfect indeed. Let the doc try to survive a shot from this baby. Mama thinks not.
I try to hide my excitement.
“Yes, Laura, yes. Good choice. Good damn choice! Maybe you do know your way around a weapon. Fucking, excellent! I just got that beauty not too long ago. There are a few sweet modifications you might like and she comes equipped with Doctor slide mount 7 MOA red dot sight--She’s perfection. Let's go get this fucker then." He says with a new found enthusiasm.
Just then as they are about to head out, he eyes Laura holding the gun, admiring its features while standing by his hidden weapons stash and it hits him, she is the first person he let into his home, his life, into his secrets, in years. His pursuit has been all consuming and he is overwhelmed by the beauty of what is happening; her strength, the way she’s holding the gun, her determination and her passion for her friend, makes him go a little weak in the knees.
Laura turns and looks at him while he’s entranced, “Um, are we going or what!”
“Yeah yeah, we’re going.” He says a little startled, just then, remembering he needs to be focused.
Was he just staring at me? Is there something going on with him? Sure, he's cute and dangerous, any dysfunctional girl’s dream, but the fucker did shoot me. So, I may need a little more than puppy dog eyes to get me there.
Armed with Richie's Intel, that little bastard hacked into cctv, most the local street and highway cams, now he knows exactly where the doc’s hiding out.
As they head to his car, Laura asks...
“So where are we going?”
“To the Catskills.”
“The Catskills?”
“That's where the cams place him.”
“The fucking Catskills, it seems a little ironic. We just got him out of there.”
“Well, he's back.”
Interesting. Why the hell would he go back there. I mean the man hated being locked up there. What the fuck is in the Catskills?
Peter returns to an empty cottage. He knew that boy was up to no good. He is beyond furious to see no guest, no one waiting for his gifts, no bound sacrifice, no glow, just an empty blood stained butcher’s table where she’s supposed to be. And while he feels his anger build, he also feels something else, a little excitement begins to creep in. Ah, yes. He thinks. There can be a night time hunting session (---foreplay for a maniac.)
A hurting and panic stricken Jen barely has the strength needed to climb the four foot high wooden fence that encases the 2 and a half acre plot that houses Nancy’s horses, feed house and barn. Laura’s Bambi just manages to get over and heads into the barn, collapsing immediately atop a few bales of hay.
She reminds him of that character from that hercules spin off he thinks…Xena! Yes, Xena. He watched a few episodes back in the day and he knew then that was his kinda woman, badass warrior chick!
“You got that Xena thing going, you know.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second, turning to Laura, eyeing her with a new found excitement about his realization.
“What?”
“You know Xena the warrior princess. Remember that show?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“Well, that could be you. Well, you being a more tan version of course. But yeah, definitely you, huh.”
“You really wanna talk about TV shows at a time like this?”
“You know what. You’re right. How about a little music?”
“I don’t think I wanna hear any music, either.”
No, Laura doesn’t want to do anything right now other than focus on what could be happening to Jen and what she needs to do when they get to that guy. And at this moment, the only thing keeping her calm is the the powerful semiautomatic resting in her lap, as she caresses it, giving herself reassurance.
The two in this car, rocketing its way to meet evil incarnate, are for the lack of a better word, a team, now. He carries with him an old and ancient hurt. He has barely been able to hold onto his humanity; these many years of chasing a deprived maniac who butchered your sister can do that to you. While Laura's hurts are fresh and vibrant. She is finding her humanity again in her love for her friend, after losing it in chasing fame, notoriety and fortune. But both are filled with purpose and focus, their mission the same, their drive singular, the final and absolute destruction of the monster.
Still, how much do I trust him. Now, this is a question whose answer may keep me alive and I damn sure wanna be alive after this. I mean this guy sitting beside me who’s a trained sniper, shot everyone save for the doc, not too long ago, shit. That's a joke, not the kinda joke I want repeated. I wanna take it he can shoot. So what would make him miss like that, too much emotion, probably. He can't separate what he needs to do from his emotions, his blind anger and fury. Now, this can get me killed. What can I do to help the situation here…hmm, shit…time to act, Laura, time to put on the charm, time to stay alive. If I can focus his passion and attention on me, this may be the motivation he needs.
“You know what, let’s have a little music.” I turn to him, smiling flirtatiously.
“Yeah, you sure?”
“Yeah, I am.” I take my hand and move my hair behind my ear, slowly and seductively hoping he notices.
He does as he smiles “You know what there’s a mix I got on my phone for such an occasion.”
“Is that so,” I say giving him a seductive smile while I stroke my hair. Oh, he’s gonna get the full business now, as I try to think my sexiest thoughts.
He scrolls through the songs on his playlist. “Here, Laura. This is a good one. Do you know Lana Del Rey?”
“I know the name, yeah.”
“Well, listen up.” He says excitedly as he plays Ultraviolence. And turns to me and begins humming along. Then he attempts to sing, belting out every other word or so…”They used to call me poison…poison ivy…dada lalala...” He continues to sing. Then stops and looks at me… “You feel it, Laura. You feel it?” he smiles and nods his head, swaying to the beat.
I have to admit. I’m really feeling it. This Lana Del Rey and her Ultraviolence. The shit’s good.
“Yeah, I like it.”
“Right! Well, this is just the start. All the songs on this playlist that I call
KillTime are gonna get us there where we need to be. You’ll see. By the time we get to the doc, shit’s gonna be so on!”
His excitement is exciting me, not to mention these killer songs. I feel my anger getting focused. I never thought I could be this kinda person but now it seems I have to be.
As his KillTime mix plays and as each song gets louder, angrier and more aggressive, for Laura, the songs and sounds begin to fade into the background as her thoughts start to wander, going to places she hasn’t really let herself go in awhile, as images of her father begin to bombard her. She sees his smile, hears his voice, feels his presence. She needs his strength now. The focused warrior he was, action oriented, disciplined and extremely alert. She vows to be these things. Though she sometimes felt like a disappointment to him, she was proud to be his oldest and she damn sure felt loved, but she wasn’t a boy. And she knew how he wanted a son. Someone to carry on the legacy of soldiers in the family. Today, she will be both the daughter she is and the son he always wanted. She will be fierce times two.
