The Caretaker's Wife

by Vincent Zandri

  “Where’d you get this stuff, Sheriff?” I asked. “It must have cost you a fortune.”

  “You’d be surprised what you can buy off the dark web,” he said. “I had the opportunity to buy a leftover Sherman Tank along with a dozen live cannon shells. I would have too, if it wouldn’t be so difficult to conceal.”

  I glanced at Cora. I got the feeling that she, too, was amazed at the arsenal.

  We proceeded to carry most of the special weapons cache upstairs, including the land mines and the .30 cal. By now, it was going on one in the morning, and we figured that a few hours’ sleep would be crucial if we were planning on being prepared for the battle that was sure to begin at first light.

  “Tell you what,” Woods said. “There’s a cozy jail cell in back. You two are welcome to use that. No way I’m sleeping tonight. I’ll take watch and set the mines while you get some rest.”

  I thanked the sheriff and then took hold of Cora’s hand and led her to jail.

  Like the sheriff indicated, the cell was narrow and cramped, but the bunk, besides being so small it hardly fit one person, wasn’t as uncomfortable as the hard-as-a-rock bunk I’d been sleeping on at Sing Sing. But I wasn’t interested in comfort at that point. I also wasn’t interested in sleep. I wanted something else entirely. As soon as I knew that Sheriff Woods had left the building, leaving Cora and me alone, I grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her into me. Our mouths locked and we proceeded to pull one another’s clothes off.

  She sat on the cot, unbuckled my belt, and unbuttoned my pants. She pulled me out and took me into her mouth, pumping me hard.

  I was so rock hard I thought I might explode in a matter of seconds. But I held back and dropped to my knees. I pulled her jeans and panties down, spread her legs, and went at her with my mouth. I worked her hot wetness with my tongue and lips, and I listened to her moaning until the moaning became shouting.

  “Don’t stop, Kingsley!” she screamed. “Please don’t stop!”

  When she came, it was like a gusher. Standing, I rolled her over and entered her from behind. It was somewhat awkward because she had to shift her body in a way that prevented her from banging her head against the concrete block wall. But that didn’t matter a whole lot because it took me less than a minute to come to that place where I could no longer hold it all in. When I exploded inside her, I filled her with everything I had to give and then some.

  We held each other for a time on that cramped cot as the night wore on. The only light in the cell came from a street lamp outside. It bled into the space through a small barred window located at the very top of the far wall. When Cora rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, I knew she had something on her mind besides the pending battle with her late husband’s crime family. I couldn’t imagine anything heavier than that, but whatever it was, it was causing her real pain.

  “They screamed as they burned,” she said, somewhat under her breath.

  I knew immediately what she was talking about. The Kennedy family. In my mind, I pictured the burned out shell of a house that was still somehow standing in the center of town.

  “Sheriff Woods wasn’t lying when he said Sonny and his men were there when the family burned to death. Those two kids and their parents.”

  “Sonny’s men,” I said. “As in Big Billy and his two hangers-on.”

  “Meaning Big Billy and some state troopers,” she said. “We don’t know who exactly, but they were there.”

  “Why did he do it, Cora?” I asked. “Why would a man even as rotten as Sonny do something so horrible to an innocent family?”

  “He wanted to set an example, and he wanted to scare the living daylights out of the entire town, including the sheriff. And he succeeded.”

  “And that’s when the Torchis paid off the state cops.” It was a question.

  She nodded, then inhaled and exhaled.

  “Sonny stood inside the kitchen, his gun in his hand. Big Billy bound the kids and the family to their chairs at the kitchen table. They used duct tape. They purposely didn’t gag them because Sonny said he wanted the entire town to hear their screams when they started to burn. He used gasoline so that it would burn fast after the flash. So that the family wouldn’t die from smoke inhalation but instead from the flames roasting their flesh.” Tears fell from her eyes. “I overhead Billy brag that as the family burned and screamed, he and Sonny just laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen. They’d even taken selfies of the scene, but I’ve never seen them. I guess I never wanted to see them. But I vowed then that I would find a way to kill Sonny someday. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, I would find a way to send him to hell. When you came into my life, it was like you had been purposely sent here by some higher God. If not for you, Sonny would still be alive.”

  “But now we have his family to deal with,” I said, my eyes glued to the white light outside the small window.

  “We’re going to beat them back, Kingsley,” she said. “We’re going to beat them back, and we’re going to kill every last one of them and send them to hell to be with Sonny.” She rolled over, turned to me, and grabbed hold of my hand. “Promise me we’ll kill them all, Kingsley. Promise me.”

  I felt my heart pounding inside my ribcage and the drums beating in my head. It was a surreal moment, but it was also a time of reckoning, both for Cora and the town of Loon Lake.

  “I promise,” I said.

  I closed my eyes and soon, I was asleep.

  I see them coming from the roof of the concrete building. Men with thick black beards and black scarves wrapped around their heads. Their lead vehicle is a pickup truck with a .50 cal. machine gun mounted to the back. There must be hundreds of them, all packed into pickups armed with tripod-mounted machine guns. I raise my hand. It’s the signal for my men to hold their fire.

  But when I drop it, we all open up on the enemy, cutting them to ribbons. Some of the bandits manage to escape the gauntlet. A dozen enter into the building, climb up onto the roof. They begin to mow down our outflanked squad from behind.

  I turn to see a bandit staring me in the face. He must be out of ammo because he wants to dance hand-to-hand. We grapple and drop to the roof floor. Our faces are so close, I can smell his sour breath, feel the sweat pouring off his brow. The bandit manages to steal my fighting knife. We fight for control of it. The blade cuts my chest, opens it up. But I’m not in pain. Instead, I am consumed by rage. I overpower the bandit, steal back the knife, and slice his neck so deep the blade connects with the spinal column…

  …I find myself surrounded in the prison shower. Six Aryans, heads shaved, muscles bulging out of green prison-issue t-shirts. They’ve caught me by complete surprise while I’m at my most vulnerable. Naked and showering. They take turns whipping me, sharp metal shavings cutting into the skin on my back, arms, and chest. I drop to the tiled floor. The pain is so severe, so electric, I can’t move, can’t scream, can’t breathe. I watch my own blood circle the drain…

  I woke with a start, Cora still asleep beside me. I glanced at my wristwatch. Three a.m. In just a couple hours, the Torchi family, along with Big Billy and his two black leather-wearing goons, would enter the town with the intent to destroy it and everyone in it. The state police would not be there to help. Neither would the Army, nor even God himself. This was more than a battle for survival. It wasn’t a battle between good versus bad. More like bad versus evil.

  We had guns and assorted weapons and the element of surprise on our side. But knowing how bad Torchi’s army would be…how highly trained…we needed something more to combat them with. Something that would let them know without any question whatsoever the townspeople of Loon Lake were no pushovers. In fact, a few of us might even have a few screws loose. What I had in mind would shake the gangsters to their very core. It wouldn’t hurt them physically or neutralize them in any way, but believe me when I say, it would mess them up. Or should I say, mess up their brains. What I was about to en
gage in was psychological warfare.

  I slipped off the cot and grabbed my Jeep keys. In the sheriff’s office where the weaponry was laid out on the tables and the desk, I grabbed hold of a Colt .45, made sure it was fully loaded, and stuffed the barrel into my pant waist. It was time to pay a quick visit to Crown Point General. More specifically, the medical center morgue.

  22

  By the time I returned, it was going on five in the morning, and the dawn wasn’t far off. The sheriff was standing outside the jail, his AR15 gripped in his hands. Cora was standing beside him. She was also holding an AR15.

  “Thought you left us,” Woods said.

  “Not for good,” I said. “I needed to grab something from the hospital. I’m going to need a couple of the men to string it up for us?”

  The sheriff approached the Jeep and glanced in back. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “How’d you get away with it?”

  “I just walked into the morgue and showed the night watchman my badge. He helped me find the drawer in the cooler. Together, we zipped him up in a bag. I signed a couple of forms, and I walked out with him.”

  “Just like that,” the sheriff said.

  “Well, that last bit is sort of an exaggeration,” I said. “Sonny’s deadweight is still no picnic, so the night watchman helped me load him into the Jeep.”

  “Still don’t believe you,” the sheriff said.

  I reached around, pulled out the .45 I’d taken earlier.

  “This helped,” I said.

  “Now I see the light,” Woods said with a shake of his head.

  Cora started for the Jeep, but I stopped her.

  “Don’t, Cora,” I insisted. “It’s not something you need to see right now.”

  She stopped and turned away. Sheriff Woods pulled his walkie talkie from his belt.

  “Ben, come in. Over,” he said into the device.

  “What is it, Sheriff? Over.”

  “Need you and two more men to meet me at the jail. Over.”

  “Copy that, Sheriff. Out.”

  “So, what did you have in mind, Kingsley?” Woods asked.

  I told him my plan. Told him I’d seen this kind of thing happen on the battlefield. He nodded, then shook his head. He was unnerved by the idea, that much was certain. But he knew how effective the plan could be in putting some serious ass fright into the Torchi gangsters.

  “You have my blessing,” he said after a time.

  A couple of minutes later, Ben and two other men approached the Jeep. They saw the body bag in back. When Ben unzipped the bag, revealing the dead face, there was little doubt they were dealing with something unusual. Something very dark. I told them my plan, and, to my surprise, they were rather pleased with it.

  “Don’t forget the gasoline,” I said. “And make sure Kate is able to use one of her arrows as a fire starter. Wait for my signal.”

  They nodded in agreement. Then they took the body with them, carrying it up the road to the start of town. I turned to the sheriff.

  “It will be first light in a half hour,” I said. “Everyone in position.”

  “Everyone except us,” he said. “You’d better weapon up, Kingsley. You’re going to need more than that .45”

  “Got any coffee going?”

  “It’s fresh and hot,” he smiled. “Donuts too.”

  “Breakfast of champions and warriors,” I said.

  I headed inside the sheriff’s office and poured myself a black coffee. While I was drinking it, I prepped myself for war. I proffered one of the sheriff’s tactical vests which were hanging on the wall and loaded it with six thirty-round magazines.

  I attached one of the grenade launchers to the AR15’s rack-mount system and stuffed four grenades in the upper vest pockets.

  I shifted the Colt .45 from my pant waist to a plastic holster that clipped onto my belt and added three more nine-round magazines to the vest load. On the opposite hip, I strapped on a fighting knife. I looked around for a helmet, but the sheriff didn’t seem to have one, which struck me as odd. Or maybe there were none left. He did have a Loon Lake law enforcement baseball cap, which I put on. It would at least help with reducing the glare that was sure to come with the rising sun. My aviator sunglasses would help, too, since they were Polaroids. Last, but not at all least, I confiscated one of the extra pairs of tactical gloves. Take it from one who knew, you could put a lot of rounds through an AR15, but that barrel still got hot, so the gloves would be a necessity if the shooting lasted a long time, which it was bound to do.

  I was just finishing up testing my walkie talkie when Woods came back in along with Cora. They, too, were geared up for war. He pulled out the city map he’d used at Bunny’s bar, unfolded it, and laid it on the desk.

  “Here, here, and here,” he said, pointing at the very center of town with an extended index finger. “These are the locations of the six mines. I set them in pairs just in case the bandits decide to drive on both sides of the street. The first ones don’t get them, they’re bound to run over the second or third pairs.”

  “That alone could cripple them,” Cora added, her AR15 cradled in her arms.

  Sheriff Woods cocked his head, pursed his lips. “Maybe,” he said. “My guess is their vehicles will be armored, so landmines might actually be ineffective. We won’t know until they trigger them.”

  I stared at the map.

  “My little grisly surprise for them will happen here,” I said, pointing to the town entry not far from the funeral parlor. “Right at the start of the town.”

  “Let’s hope it has the psychological effect you’re going for,” Woods said. “I’m not one for disturbing the dead, even if it’s for a good cause.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Sonny doesn’t mind,” I said, staring at the floor, as if staring into hell itself. “Do you, Sonny? Can you hear me? Or is the devil keeping you busy?”

  But as soon as I said it, I saw an American soldier, stripped naked, nailed to a cross in the middle of the road just outside Fallujah. We went on to fight and win the day anyway, but never before had I been so scared. The enemy had gotten inside our heads that day, and that’s what I was hoping to do to the Torchi family. Them and Big Billy and his two cohorts. When it came to love and war, there were no rules. There was only winning and losing, and in this case, losing meant sure death.

  Then came a voice over the walkie talkies. It was Ben.

  “We’ve spotted four SUVs led by three motorcycles about a half mile out along Loon Lake Road, Sheriff,” he said. “Over.”

  “Copy,” Woods said. “Take your places, Ben. This is it. Over.”

  “Roger that,” Ben said. “God speed and out.”

  The three of us went outside. Cora started for her position across the street in The Alamo—the insurance building where she would head up onto the roof.

  “Wait,” I said.

  She stopped, turned. I pulled her to me, kissed her. “Don’t stop shooting until they’re all dead,” I said. “No prisoners, you got that? No prisoners.”

  She gazed at me with wide, beautiful but determined eyes. It was like she’d been waiting for this very moment all her life.

  Sheriff Woods got behind the wheel of the prowler and backed it into the middle of the road. He killed the ignition and got out but left the door open so that he could use it as a protective barrier. I opened the passenger side door and took up a defensive position behind it. By then we could easily hear the Harleys, telling me Big Billy was riding point, just like we figured he would.

  Gazing at the sheriff, I gave him a nod and a thumbs-up.

  “Let’s do this, Kingsley,” he said.

  “Ben,” I said, into my chest-mounted walkie talkie. “Light up the body.”

  As the sun came up on the main street of the Loon Lake Township, something very disturbing appeared in the middle of the road at the very entrance to the town. It was the naked, dead corpse of Sonny Torchi, and it was nailed to a homema
de cross.

  An arrow shot out of the sky. The tip of the arrow was aflame, and when it struck home at the base of the cross, it ignited the entire gasoline-soaked crucifix.

  “Great shot, Kate,” I said into my walkie talkie.

  “I aim to please,” she responded, “even if this is one of sickest displays I’ve ever witnessed.”

  “It’s a necessary evil,” I said. Then, “Okay, everyone, you all know what to do. Don’t shoot until you can make out their eyes and the first of the mines have detonated. Over and out.”

  The motorcycles were now in view. Billy was out front by about twenty feet, his two cohorts behind him. He was holding onto the handlebars with one hand and with the other, he held a mini-M16—the shorter barreled version of the full-sized automatic rifle. He stopped his bike maybe ten feet away from the burning cross. His scream was so loud it rattled my teeth.

  Behind him and his two men appeared four black Suburbans with tinted windows. It was Torchi’s army. The cross was fully ignited when Billy pulled ahead. But that’s when something happened that must have taken Billy by complete surprise. His two Harley riding cohorts wouldn’t follow. They were so frightened, I could almost smell it. Sensing they weren’t moving ahead, Billy stopped and turned to face them.

  “What the hell is the matter with you two?” he barked. “We’ve got a hunting party to lead.”

  “I don’t like this,” one of them yelled. “That’s some crazy shit hanging on that cross, Billy.”

  “And where is everyone?” the other one shouted. “It’s like the town is abandoned.”

  Billy dismounted his motorcycle and gripped his mini-M16 with both hands. He shouldered the weapon and aimed it at his own men.

  “Move forward,” he barked. “Or die.”

  But they wouldn’t move. That’s when Billy fired on his own men, taking them both out with one single, extended rifle burst. Woods and I exchanged glances because we knew exactly what the other was thinking. The first casualties of this war were suffered by the enemy, and the casualties were inflicted upon themselves.