Never Cry Mercy

by L. T. Ryan

  Linus went down hard on his hands and knees. The dislodged knife clanked against the asphalt and slid toward me. I kicked it, sending it tumbling through the lot and coming to rest in a patch of grass about thirty feet away. He scrambled to get to his feet. I drove my boot into the man's side, sending him sprawling.

  The two guys lay a few feet from each other, Linus on his side, and his heavy friend on his back now. The heavy guy used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. Streams of blood traveled down his face, falling to the side.

  "So are you two just plain stupid?" I said. "Or stupid enough to follow someone's directions?"

  Linus mumbled something, but it made no sense. Hard to talk without any oxygen in your lungs.

  By this point a small crowd had gathered on the other side of the street. It wouldn't be long before Vernon or one of his men showed up. Then it'd be townie versus drifter. Didn't take much of a law enforcement background to see how that'd turn out.

  "You two should think about getting out of here before I finish you off."

  Linus opened his mouth to speak, said nothing. His gaze shifted down the street. The low rumble of a diesel engine rose above the murmur of the crowd. I took a few steps back and followed the man's gaze. An older GMC dually coasted into the parking lot and rolled to a stop not too far from us. The only person in the truck was the guy driving it. He looked to be about sixty, trim and in decent shape.

  I looked past the truck, across the street. The crowd dispersed, some casting glances back toward the older guy as they walked away.

  The man stood behind the open driver's door for ten or fifteen seconds, keeping his hands out of sight, and his gaze on me. There was nowhere close for me to take cover. A narrow alley that cut between the shop and the next building, then traveled behind them, stood about thirty feet behind me. I could cover the ground quickly, but not fast enough to prevent the guy from taking a shot at me.

  Would he hit? I had no idea of his skill level, and I wasn't going to take a chance with my life to prove he couldn't.

  The truck door slammed shut. The man took his time rounding the front of the vehicle. When he emerged, his hands were empty. But that meant nothing. A weapon was easy enough to conceal. He took his time approaching me, casting quick, disgusted glances at the two men on the ground, but not losing sight of his focus.

  "You two all right?" he called out.

  Both men strained to respond.

  The guy stopped halfway between me and the truck. Forced a smile. Held his hands out to the side.

  "I must be looking at the stranger."

  "Depends on who you ask."

  "Well, I ain't never seen you in town. These guys hadn't before last night." He took a rounded path toward them in order to keep me in his sights. The heavy guy managed to get up unassisted. The older man knelt next to Linus for a few seconds, whispered something to him. Then he and the heavy guy helped Linus to his feet.

  I'd backed up toward the street, not that it offered much in the way of protection or security. Still, it was better than being hemmed in against the garage should another group of men show up.

  The older guy walked toward me. "Mind telling me what happened here, stranger?"

  "Why don't you ask them?"

  He took two more steps, stopped, looked back. I didn't have to see his face to know the look he gave them. Linus and the heavy guy glanced away, ashamed at having been beaten by one man. The older guy turned toward me again.

  "Not sure how long you're planning on being in town," he said, "but I recommend you do your time quickly and quietly."

  "Problem is, trouble seems to find me no matter what I do. So maybe you should tell your guys to back off. Especially if they value their teeth."

  The older man stuck his hand out, index finger pointed toward the sky as though he were warning me. "Don't let me run into you again, stranger."

  Chapter 9

  Crystal River, Florida, 1988

  Jack fidgeted with his stacks of Monopoly cash while keeping his attention focused on the corridor that led to the front door. Uneasiness, like the humidity, enveloped him. Only this feeling penetrated his gut. He glanced at Sean, saw that his brother was calmly watching the sun sink below the horizon.

  Nothing to worry about, he thought.

  He'd always been an anxious child. Sports and activity in general helped alleviate the uneasy feelings he carried around. But this didn't feel right, someone knocking at the door while his parents were away. It sent a wave of negative emotion through him. He sensed something was going to happen, but wasn't sure what.

  "Relax," Sean said, seemingly picking up on his little brother's anxiety. "It's just someone checking in on us. You know how mom is. Hell, you get your nervousness from her."

  The lock clicked, the handle turned, the latch gave with another clicking sound. The door creaked on those old hinges that their dad always said he'd grease, but never did. It had almost become a game between his parents, a way for their father to give their mother a little extra angst.

  Jack's chest tightened. He forced himself to pull a breath in through his nostrils, trying not to make it too obvious. It bothered him when Sean picked up on his anxiety, and it only made his attacks worse. But his lungs burned from a lack of air, and Jack gulped in a breath, drawing a glance from his brother.

  "Take it easy, Jack." The words were meant to comfort, but Jack saw concern in Sean's eyes now. Panic was imminent and there was little Jack could do but ride it out.

  And then he felt Sammy brush against his legs, her tail slapping the chair. The Australian Shepherd glanced up at him, appearing to grin. Jack reached down and grabbed a fistful of her mane. His hand glided down her back. She was always there when his attacks happened. He figured she had a way of sensing it.

  "Hello?" Molly's voice floated through the house. A moment passed. "Oh, hi. Yeah, I think I do."

  "See." Sean leaned over and tapped Jack's chest. "Nothing to worry about."

  Jack drew in a deep breath for the first time in what felt like hours, but in reality had only been seconds.

  Nothing to worry about. Just someone we know, or someone selling something. Nothing to worry about.

  He noticed a hint of cologne lingering after Sean pulled away. When did that start? Jack returned his attention to his Monopoly money, sorting through the stacks of ones, fives, tens, and hundreds. This time he'd win. He knew it.

  "Not a chance," Sean said.

  "Quit reading my mind," Jack said.

  Sean only laughed. He always knew what Jack was thinking. Pissed him off to no end.

  "What's taking so long?" Sean craned his neck to sneak a view down the hall. His smile faded, and in a moment, his demeanor went from calm and relaxed, to being ready to run or fight.

  It happened so fast that Jack couldn't tell if Sean reacted first or if he heard Molly scream at them.

  "Boys, run!"

  Her words echoed throughout the hallway, out to the porch, and into the darkening yard.

  Chapter 10

  I left the scene before Linus and his partner could regroup and attempt to make amends with their boss. Or whatever he was. The only obvious conclusion I could draw was he had some power over them. In what capacity, I had no idea. It made sense given Reese's warning that the town was not what it seemed.

  Whatever was going on, I wanted no part of it. It went against my new philosophy of letting everyone else screw up without my intervention. Hell, I'd done a good job of keeping my head down until those two idiots tried to take me out. And why? Because they'd been undressed in front of me by Reese the night before? Then why the hell did they respond to her that way? How was she scarier than me?

  A lot of time had passed since my first encounter with Reese. I knew then that she had been placed in witness protection. Was she still in the program? By all accounts, the program isn't the best thing to be a part of. Perhaps she'd left it behind, started a new life out here. The bar could be a front. Maybe there was more to Rees
e than I knew. She put them in their place because she knew I was the kind of guy who could cause problems for all of them. Better to let me do my time in town than to let me uncover whatever it was they were all involved in.

  Speculation. All of it.

  And it was worth discussing with Reese later.

  I navigated the town's street-grid layout and found my way back to the house. The smell of bacon in the kitchen hadn't faded. I called out to the couple, but no one responded. There was a note on the fridge telling me they'd gone out for the day and to help myself to anything I wanted. I cobbled together a sandwich and sat down at the table, replaying the encounter with the men at the garage.

  My gut told me that the two dopes hadn't attacked on their own accord. Someone put the word out that they wanted me shaken up. And who better to do so than the town thugs? Only they hadn't accounted for my skills and background. Neither had whoever ordered them to attack.

  It made sense, especially taking into consideration the moment the older gentleman showed up. It felt almost as though the ordeal had been planned to the minute. By the time the older guy had arrived, I would have been beaten pretty badly, but not dead. At least, if things had gone their way. Perhaps that's why he came across more defensive than his stature, and the townsfolk's reactions, indicated.

  He wasn't prepared for the scene he found.

  Wasn't prepared for me to be able to handle myself.

  There was something about the guy that stood out. He exuded confidence. It was obvious in the way he held himself. He clearly was used to respect from everyone. He was the man who ran the show. And he didn't account for me being a thorn in his plans because he wasn't used to anyone being a thorn in his plans. If he was willing to beat down a stranger for no reason other than to shake me up, what would he do now that we'd become acquaintances?

  He reminded me of someone, too. Someone I could and couldn't place. In those couple minutes, that old guy was a mashup of practically every military officer I'd encountered. Not necessarily his words, but his presence. The feeling was more intimate than that, though. He could've been an actual person from my past. Maybe some higher-up I pissed off on my path through the Marines, or during my early years with the Feds.

  I tucked the thought away to let my subconscious work on it.

  What had he done to his guys after their failure to detain me? I figured the beating they took was punishment enough, but if this guy had the background I figured, he considered what I did as only the beginning.

  I finished my sandwich, washed up, and headed toward the back door. As I grabbed the knob, I heard faint crying.

  "Ingrid?"

  Chapter 11

  She sat on the old dark-green recliner, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her eyes and cheeks and nose were red. I hovered in the doorway a few moments, waiting for her to look up. She only sobbed heavier when she saw me standing there.

  "What is it?" I said. "Herbie OK?"

  She nodded and waved me off, a rumpled tissue dangling from her fingers.

  "He's fine, Jack. It's nothing to do with him."

  I hesitated a few moments, deciding whether to press or not. I was only passing through the town. It was almost as if I had to remind myself of the fact. I had no reason to get involved with anyone or in any situation.

  Did that apply to Reese? Tougher question to answer.

  "What's going on?" I asked.

  "It's just..." She stared up at the plaster ceiling for a moment. The ridges of the swirl pattern stood out in the light coming through the window. "Things here aren't what they seem."

  "So everyone says." I crossed the room, dropped to a knee so we were eye level, placed my hands on the recliner's arms. "What's not what it seems?"

  She lowered her head and her gaze. "I really can't say."

  "That's the theme of the day."

  "I'm just concerned." She covered her eyes with the tissue for a moment. "For my family. For the people of this town. Heck, for the town itself. It isn't what it once was, and I fear it'll never be the same again. The young ones, they'd do right to just leave this place, with the state it's in now. Nothing for them here anyway. Definitely not like there was forty years ago. The jobs are all gone. Drugs have taken over."

  I thought of Linus and his heavy counterpart, and the older man who'd shown up after I'd taken care of the morons. Were they all a part of the drug trade in Texline? Were the cops involved, too?

  Ingrid's eyes welled with tears again as her breath quickened and her face flushed.

  "You shouldn't be here, Jack. I don't know why Herbie brought you to our house in the first place. We don't need the extra attention from those men."

  Perhaps she thought I'd consider packing my bag right then and leaving.

  "Ingrid, what extra attention? What men? Has someone threatened you?" I shifted to lock eyes with her. "Look, you might be afraid of them, but I'm not. They think I'm some city boy with no ability to take care of myself, and that couldn't be further from the truth. You say things here aren't what they seem. Neither am I. If someone is threatening you, tell me. I'll handle it."

  Ingrid said nothing.

  "All right, it's obvious that my being here is causing you folks some problems." I let go of the recliner and stood. "I'm gonna get out of your—"

  "No, don't even think about it." She blew her nose as she rose in front of me, then tucked the tissue into a dress pocket. "All this started long before you arrived. And it'll continue long after you're gone. We offered you our home, and you are welcome here as long as you need. Besides, our problems have nothing to do with you being here."

  "You just said I shouldn't be here."

  She looked away as her eyes misted over again. Then her posture changed. Shoulders pulled back, chest puffed out. She looked defiant. Ingrid and Herbie operated differently than most. They had a moral code, and their word was their bond. Unbreakable. They'd offered me help, and they'd ride out the storm no matter how bad the conditions worsened. The attention I brought be damned. Even if it meant their homes or their lives.

  That was a cross I didn't want on my shoulders.

  "Thanks for your hospitality, Ingrid. I promise not to be a burden the rest of my stay."

  I didn't intend for it to last more than a couple of hours longer.

  Ingrid forced a smile, but said nothing.

  I turned away, headed through the kitchen, and out the back door. I decided to go see Reese again, ask if there was anywhere else I could stay. Maybe somewhere I could hole up and lay low for a couple days, either in town or close by. I'd made up my mind. I had to get out of their house.

  No sooner did I hit the sidewalk than Vernon's cruiser rounded the corner. He flipped the strobe light on for a cycle, then slowed the vehicle to a crawl. The driver's side window inched down, whining along the track. A thick layer of dirt coated the outer weather stripping. Vernon propped his elbow on the ledge, let his hand fall to the side, his fingertips grazing the door.

  "Jack."

  "Vernon."

  His gaze cut right past me, falling on the house.

  "Might want to get that window looked at," I said. "I'd hate for it to get stuck during one of those sudden Texas hailstorms."

  Vernon nodded. "Appreciate the concern."

  I stood there for a moment, waiting for him to interrogate me. But he didn't say anything. His gaze swept left to right, stopping on me sometimes, moving right over me others.

  "What do you want?"

  He shrugged. Offered no reply.

  "Have I done something?"

  "Other than show up, cause a scene in a bar, beat up two of our townsfolk, and get Billie all in a tizzy?"

  I shrugged back. Offered him no reply.

  He opened the door, stepped out, stopped a few feet from me. "Hey, look, Jack. I got nothing against you. Those two assholes are always starting trouble. I know they started it with you in the bar, and again in the parking lot. Folks stood up and said so. Most of the time they don't. You get
what I'm saying?"

  "No," I said. "Why's that? Why'd they speak up this time?"

  Vernon's lips parted. He drew in a deep breath and held it for a second, then whistled as he exhaled. "Well, that's complicated. Coming from a big city, you probably don't much understand small town politics. Especially in a place like this, a state like this. Hell, don't most of y'all think of Texas as another country anyway?"

  I didn't bother to tell him I grew up in a small town. And he was the one who brought up the locals gossiping. Now he tried to talk circles around it.

  "Vernon, why won't the townsfolk here talk whenever those idiots do something? Does it have something to do with that older guy who showed up in the truck?"

  He glanced away. His silence spoke volumes.

  "Who is he?" I asked.

  "If I could get you a rental car here by tomorrow morning, would you leave? I'm talking paid up so you can get to Albuquerque, where you can figure out your next step."

  "Be happy to. But you didn't answer my question."

  He fidgeted with his holster for a second while staring at the ground. He caught my stare out of the corner of his eye. Last thing he wanted was to give anything away through body language.

  Too late.

  "I'll find you in the morning after I have that car here. We'll get you out of town."

  "What about my Jeep?"

  Vernon chuckled. "That's not getting fixed. You ain't figured that out yet?"

  Chapter 12

  Vernon charged down the street as though he were chasing a getaway car. Presumably there wasn't much opportunity for that kind of action in Texline, so why not drive like a madman on the back roads of town?