Sole Chaos

by William Oday

  47

  BOB knew he was about to get shot dead.

  And he laughed.

  Not about the dying part, though he wasn’t overly concerned by it. It was the joke running through his head that made him laugh.

  You don’t have to run faster than a bear to get away, you just have to run faster than the guy next to you.

  With Rome and Stuckey ahead and widening the gap, he was the slowest guy. The one that would get eaten.

  It was strange how a bad joke was all that occupied his thoughts as bullets snapped through air. Some missing him by inches.

  The headlights of several vehicles at the top of the road swung around and bathed the area in light.

  More rounds zipped by, one so close he felt the displaced air on his forehead. They sounded like enraged hornets, and one sting would do it.

  Stuckey arrived at the warehouse door and didn’t slow down. He threw a shoulder forward and crashed through it, disappearing into the dark interior.

  Rome made it a few seconds later.

  Bob’s lungs were about to burst, which wasn’t going to be a problem because his heart was thumping so hard it was going to beat them to it.

  The headlights of the approaching vehicles bounced off the side of the warehouse.

  Neptune Seafoods Corporation.

  With a giant painted logo above it.

  A cartoon of the Roman god of the sea rising up out of a cresting wave. One hand held a trident overhead while the other held a happy fish with a huge toothy grin. What once must’ve been bold, simple colors were now faded to dreary hues. It looked like it had been both designed and painted on the building back in the seventies. Probably a knock off of the Charlie the tunafish cartoon.

  The shadowed rectangle of the open door drew closer.

  Rather, Bob drew closer to it.

  Only forty feet to go.

  His head swam and he accidentally veered off course before getting back on track.

  Any second now.

  He might actually make it.

  More bullets streaked by. An angry sound like the crack of a whip as the projectiles punched through a medium that had measurable density. There was all the science of supersonic flight and how air piled up and became like a thick soup of drag on a speeding object. Yeah, there was all that.

  But Bob had his own proof. Experiential proof. His limbs swam through the viscous liquid that had been effortless fluidity moments before.

  Now, it slowed his movement. It pulled against his progress. Encouraging him to slow to a stop.

  A pale face appeared in the silhouetted frame of the door.

  Stuckey. He raised a rifle and fired several shots at the approaching vehicles. “Come on!”

  A bullet pinged off the metal exterior inches from Stuckey’s face as he ducked inside.

  Seconds later, Bob flung himself into the inky interior.

  And abruptly slammed into Rome’s chest and bounced off like a pinball off a bumper. He would’ve wiped out but Rome grabbed his arm and kept him on his feet.

  Bob grabbed both knees and focused on not passing out. His head felt like a helium balloon and his limbs shook as cold sweat poured down his back. He sucked in a few deep breaths to satisfy starved lungs.

  And immediately regretted it.

  He gagged and coughed. “Oh, God! What is that smell?”

  Stuckey clicked on a flashlight and shined it around.

  Metal contraptions and conveyor belts and giant chrome tanks filled a huge space. Fifty yards or more of machinery packed into tight quarters all the way to the far walls. Metal stairs went up to a second level of exposed catwalk that offered access to the tanks and another level of conveyor belts. Metal slides connected the upper level machinery to the lower level.

  A couple of the slides started smooth but then had what looked like giant cheese graders near the bottom. They flattened out below that and fed into what must’ve been cutting stations because they had wicked looking blades uniformly spaced across the belt.

  “Fish processing plant,” Stuckey said with a grimace. “Didn’t smell good even when it had power and refrigeration.”

  Rome spat out a loogie that splatted on the concrete floor. “Smells like a fish’s asshole!”

  Flo would’ve admonished her son for the language, but she was no longer alive to hear or care. Bob knew he was a pathetic substitute for her. But he was still going to do his best to look after the poor kid.

  At least until one or both of them died.

  Which, judging by their current situation, would probably be any minute now.

  48

  The rumble of vehicles outside approached and Stuckey slammed the door shut. He grabbed a nearby mop and wedged it up under the handle to keep it from opening. It wouldn’t last forever, but it might slow them down for a minute or two.

  The vehicles pulled to a stop and people jumped out onto the pavement.

  A knock on the door. “Knock, knock,” said a voice they all recognized.

  A voice that made Rome and Stuckey bare their teeth in rage. A voice that nearly made Bob lose control of his bladder.

  “This is where you say, ‘Who’s there?’, and then I say, ‘CB’, and then you say ‘CB who?’ and then I don’t say anything because I’m already cutting your beating hearts out of your chests.”

  Rome pointed his shotgun at the door and fired.

  The slug punched a hole through the metal.

  Charlie laughed. “Whooo! You boys got no sense of humor!”

  A spray of automatic fire punched through the metal panel wall to their right.

  “Hey!” Charlie yelled. “I didn’t tell anyone to shoot yet! You idiots are worse than impulsive children! First, we have to parley.”

  “What’s parley?”

  It was Red, the giant Russian bear that had somehow become CB’s lapdog.

  “Why, Lord? Why have you sent morons to help me? Don’t I deserve better?”

  “I’m not stupid! I just don’t know what parley means!”

  “We’ll agree to disagree on that. And parley means when opposing sides in a confrontation meet to discuss terms.”

  “What’s there to discuss? We’re here to kill them!”

  “Alexei, please tell me when it was that you became the boss. Because you’re talking like you think that’s the case.”

  Silence.

  “Is that the case?”

  “No, CB. You are.” He sounded like a cowed mongrel.

  “Good. Then we parley.”

  “Screw your parley,” Rome shouted. “I’m going to kill you!”

  “The voice sounds young and stupid so I’m going to assume you’re the fat pimple-faced kid, right? Shut up and let your elders talk. Stuckey, you in there?”

  “I am. And Rome isn’t going to kill you because I’ll get you first!”

  Charlie chuckled. “It’s nice to feel so wanted. If only you two were a couple of horny women, then I’d be set. Bob, you in there?”

  “Yeah,” Bob said.

  “By my count, that makes three against all of us. That’s twenty or so in case you were wondering. And you’re trapped in there like rats in a hole.”

  “Are you offering to surrender?” Stuckey asked.

  “Chief, I like you. If I thought it was possible, I’d bring you to heel and give you scraps from my table. But, I suspect there would always be disobedience deep in your heart. The kind that was just waiting for an opportunity to strike. So, you’ve got to be put down. Which brings me to my offer. Bob and Rome, you two can make it out of here alive. You don’t have to die with the chief.”

  “Where was your mercy when you killed my mother?” Rome shouted.

  “Son, that was a simple case of bad timing. I never meant to hurt your mother.”

  “I don’t care if you meant it or not. You killed her!”

  “Bob, looks like the fat kid isn’t in the mood to listen to reason. How about you? Do you want to die tonight? Or would you rather live?”<
br />
  “You were never going to get that million dollars,” Bob said. “Even if you beat all the other contestants, we weren’t going to let you win. No backwoods Tennessee hick redneck was ever going to be the face of our show.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “That was rude and unnecessary, Bob. And the fact that it rings true makes me all the more upset. I’m going to enjoy cutting your belly open and pulling out your intestines while you watch. You’re gonna be real surprised at how long you can survive with a wound like that.”

  Bob’s knees went weak.

  It wasn’t an idle threat. He’d seen enough of the man to know that is exactly what would happen if Charlie captured him alive.

  He had no intention of letting that happen.

  “Well, I guess the parley’s over. Fire!”

  Stuckey dragged the other two toward the stairs as a barrage of bullets tore through the door and surrounding walls.

  “Up!” Stuckey yelled over the cacophony of pinging, punching and whizzing rounds.

  Bob’s foot caught on something and he crashed to the floor. His right ankle folded as his leg collapsed under him. Sharp pain shot up his leg, radiating from his ankle. He rolled to his back, groaning and cursing at the same time.

  He screamed in pain as Stuckey started to haul him up. “Stop!”

  Stuckey let go. “We have to take the higher ground and find cover. It’s our only chance.

  “Go! I’ll hide under that,” Bob replied as he nodded toward part of the assembly line that hung low to the ground.

  There wasn’t time for discussion or negotiation.

  “Stay put and stay quiet,” Stuckey said before hurrying off after Rome.

  Bob crawled across the cold concrete floor, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. He squeezed under the machinery and moved to the center to improve his chances of avoiding detection. No one was going to see him unless they knelt down and looked underneath.

  He fought to slow his breathing, to deal with the pulsing waves of pain shooting up his leg.

  A flash of light above drew his attention. Great! There was some kind of metal grill above his head and he saw Stuckey’s flashlight swinging back and forth as he and Rome ran across the catwalks of the upper level.

  The gunfire tearing through the skin of the building stopped.

  “Well, I reckon that gave ‘em something to think about. Let’s take a look.”

  The door handle rattled, but didn’t open. It rattled a few more times, but held.

  Bob watched the swinging light above until it went behind a steel pillar of the structural framework. The glowing bloom cut off a few seconds later. A multitude of tiny rays of light hung in the air from all the bullet holes punched through the exterior.

  Bob tried to shift his position to get more comfortable and his ankle screamed with pain. He groaned and decided to stay put.

  He imagined Stuckey and Rome in the darkness above. They’d found a good spot. They’d have cover that could stop bullets while being able to fire on anyone that approached from the exposed catwalks. It was also a perfect perch to pick off targets below that came into view.

  An engine roared outside. Tires squealed.

  Metal shrieked and ripped apart as a truck crashed through a panel and screeched to a stop inside the building. The headlights clicked to high and the beams bounced off the multitude of metals surfaces, dispersing reflected light to varying degrees throughout the factory. The sound of another truck scraped through the hole, adding more light to the scene.

  Bob was injured. Didn’t have a gun. And was stuck under some machinery.

  What was he supposed to do?

  Twiddle his thumbs until Stuckey and Rome got shot?

  He’d never felt more useless. Never more pathetic.

  Well, that wasn’t strictly true.

  The image of his ex-best friend screwing his ex-wife leaped to mind. When he’d opened the door with a bottle of wine in one hand and apology flowers in the other and saw them going at it like feral animals.

  He’d wanted to die after seeing that.

  It looked like he was finally going to get his wish.

  49

  MARCO stared in numb horror as the shark approached. The glow of the lights cascaded down into the water, revealing its monstrous size.

  The other boats weren’t going to arrive in time.

  It would get here first.

  And it was headed straight at them and the capsized boat.

  Both banks of lights flickered and the beast winked in and out of view. With each blink, it was visibly closer.

  Then they shut off. Must’ve shorted in the water.

  There was only one thing worse than seeing a seventy foot long shark coming after you.

  And that was not seeing it.

  Marco peered into the depths, but could see nothing.

  Unfortunately, a dark ocean wasn’t going to slow it down. That was the natural habitat in which it had evolved for millions of years.

  A dagger of fear stabbed into his gut.

  As horrifying as seeing the massive creature had been, this was far worse.

  Not being able to see it had him leaning out over the edge, ready to fall into a terrifying madness.

  He knew what would happen next. He’d be eaten whole or bashed unconscious by the impact. The few people that had made it back up on top of the boat, including Emily, would get thrown back into the water.

  And even if by some miracle he somehow survived the initial attack, he wouldn’t be able to save her.

  The emergency light was gone.

  She’d sink into the depths. Or sink until the monster found her.

  “No!” he screamed.

  But what could he do?

  A fin appeared in the water less than ten feet away.

  No!

  No, it wasn’t a fin.

  It was the outboard engine attached to the overturned inflatable zodiac.

  An idea flashed through his mind.

  Would it work?

  He didn’t know. But it seemed possible from what he could remember reading about shark behavior.

  Marco powered over to the zodiac and found a strap. He dragged it across to the other side and climbed up one side, leaning back and pulling with all his weight and strength.

  The boat flipped over and settled.

  He scrambled in and found the emergency kit still strapped down where he’d seen it before. He wrenched the box open, loaded the flare gun, and shoved the handle between his teeth.

  He stumbled to the rear and felt around until he found the ignition cord.

  One pull.

  Two pulls.

  Three quick pulls.

  And nothing.

  The engine grumbled and rattled but didn’t catch.

  He yanked again and the handle snapped off.

  But the engine caught and roared to life as he cranked the gas to keep it running.

  He needed to cut the plastic gas tank open. He reached for the pocketknife he usually kept in his front pocket and cursed when he remembered it was still in his pack from the hospital visit.

  What then?

  He spotted the silhouette of an oar strapped to the floor. He yanked it free and smashed it against the side. The plastic end broke off leaving only the metal shaft.

  Marco grasped it in the middle and raised it into the air. Twisting like a boxer delivering a knockout punch, he hammered the end into the side of the tank.

  The end punctured through!

  The smell of gasoline wafted in the air as the fluid poured out onto the floorboard.

  Marco stepped up onto the side and steadied himself with the tiller. He cranked it up to a roar and grabbed the flare gun out of his mouth.

  This was it. No time to waste on thoughts of failure.

  He shifted the motor into gear as he took aim at the floorboard.

  The boat catapulted forward.

  He fired as he fell backwards into the water.
r />   He went under for a second and then came back up to a thrilling orange inferno.

  The burning fuel threw flames ten feet into the air as the craft bounced away over the shifting waves.

  A splash behind him made him spin around.

  A massive dorsal fin broke through the surface of the water and then slipped below again.

  The flames soared higher as the boat slowed to a stop in the distance. The rubber must’ve caught because the whole thing blazed like a torch.

  Lights swept the water behind him and people shouted.

  “Come on!”

  Marco turned and swam to the incoming boat as the engines slowed and it drifted to him. A net came down and he climbed up, searching for Emily before he vaulted onto the deck.

  She was there, lying on the deck with her head tilted to the side. A woman kneeling above her administering CPR.

  A screeching, chittering fury made him look back out over the water.

  The spotlight swept over and landed on Oscar twenty feet from the boat.

  “What is that?” someone asked.

  Marco tossed a life ring out and it landed next to the irate weasel.

  Oscar climbed up as Marco pulled the line taut. He scampered across the line and leaped onto Marco’s shoulder and wrapped around his neck. His soaked fur made him look half as big and twice as pitiful. He shivered and chittered as Marco hurried over to Emily.

  They all turned to the zodiac as the monster shot up out of the water like it had been launched from a nuclear submarine.

  Liquid flames streaked through the air, leaving trails like exploding fireworks.

  White water hid the beast for an instant, but then it burst through in a fury of primal aggression and force.

  The shark soared through the air and slammed back down onto the water like a thunderclap.

  The flames winked out and ocean went dark.

  “Time to go!” someone shouted.

  The engines revved and the boat spun around to chase after the other boats already headed back to the main flotilla.

  Marco dropped to his knees next to Emily and took her hand. It was so, so cold. “Is she…”

  He couldn’t say it out loud.

  The woman ignored him and kept blowing air into Emily’s lungs and pumping her chest.