by William Bebb
The deputy whistled appreciatively as he looked in the back of the open van.
Mendez walked over and saw several laptop computers and glanced nervously behind her asking, “You don't think one of these guys called for help, do you?”
“I doubt Orlando did. He's the skinny kid squished under the fat one. He's been in trouble with the law for years,” Fulton said, pulling his revolver and looking suspiciously around. “I think someone-”
A dog's mournful howl coming from the ditch interrupted the deputy.
Mendez ran to edge of the parking lot and saw a dog sitting next to a young boy with a blood covered face. Even from twenty feet away she saw something odd, but didn't recognize what is was until much later. The boy had been hurt grievously, that was obvious, but it wasn't until she had time to recall it much later that she remembered the peaceful smile on his face.
Her cell phone rang while she climbed down into the ditch. She saw it was Armstrong and answered it. “Mendez here.”
“Where the Hell are you? Hicks is pissed.”
“Hicks is always pissed. I'm in a ditch with a seriously hurt kid, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, and a dog that's giving me a distrustful look. Before you ask anything else, let me deal with what I got here and when things calm down I'll give you the details. Okay?”
“Okay, just give me your location so I can fill in Hicks.”
“He'll probably be seeing emergency vehicles heading out here any minute. I'm at the Ragland High School's parking lot by the football field. Listen, I really gotta go.”
“Okay, but call back and fill me in ASAP.”
“Yes ma'am,” Mendez said before hanging up.
Frodo sniffed at the tall lady and whined as he sat by the boy's head.
“It's okay, pup,” she said softly, kneeling down. “I just want to help him.” Mendez placed her fingers on the boy's neck and felt his pulse. It was slow and steady. She heard a voice saying, “hello?” and spotted the cell phone lying in the weeds a few inches from his hand. Picking it up, she heard the 911 operator and quickly identified herself and explained the situation.
After she was told back-up was on the way, she hung up and turned back to render first aid.
Frodo whined and looked back and forth between Jake and the lady.
CHAPTER SEVEN: Things great, small, and nasty
“What do you think she'd like to be for Halloween, a witch or a kitten?” Sally asked, as she pulled costumes out of an old wooden steamer trunk in the guest bedroom.
Thomas didn't answer. He sat on the edge of the twin size bed and absently rubbed his thigh. Something felt wrong with it. It was sore and there was a slight discoloration like he'd bruised it, but try as he might he couldn't recall how he'd hurt it. The almost healed scratches on his calf were obviously done by the cat, but he couldn't remember when it had used his leg as a scratching post either. It felt sort of like when he would try to recall a dream he'd had. Bits and pieces would be close to the surface of his mind then disappear before he could grab a hold of them.
“You daydreaming again, sugar britches? I asked, which costume do think Betty will want to wear,” Sally said, placing a much too small black hat on her gray hair covered head. She scowled at the mirror and looked at the old man's reflection in the mirror. “Something ailing you, Thomas?”
“Just thinking. When do you suppose Betty will be back? I was planning to go look over the cars at Sonny James in a bit and thought she might like to tag along,” he said, smiling slightly.
“She said she wanted to meet that Carver boy. I don't recall when she left, but I imagine she'll be back home soon. And by the way, you need to run by the store and pick her up some school supplies. I don't want to take her in on Monday morning, get her all registered, and have her showing up without anything for class.”
“Yes dear,” he said, and felt a slight discomfort as he thought about the girl. He never had thought of his relatives in the way he thought of Betty. It's sick. How can I think of her like this? She's awfully pretty, though. Thomas had always had an appreciation for the beauty of young girls and often fantasized about the cheerleaders he'd see at the football games or fund raising car washes. But had never thought of his own flesh and blood like that before.
“I'm going to bring in the laundry in a few minutes. I hope I got all the stains out of your underwear. I swear, Tommy, do you ever even consider wiping after you do your business?” Sally asked, as she laid the costumes on the bed for Betty.
“Hm? Yes dear, you're right,” he said absently, still rubbing his leg.
She stopped beside him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Want me to get the liniment lotion? Looks like your arthritis is acting up.”
“No, that's okay, sweetie pie. I must have walked into something last night, probably heading to the bathroom. It's just a little tender.”
“That's my Tommy, tender and sweet. Next time don't try to find the bathroom in the dark. You know the lamp light wouldn't wake me up.” She hugged him tighter for a second before walking out.
The light was on when I hurt it. And someone was speaking to me but- A brief blurry memory of Betty fought its way to his conscious before quickly being lost.
*****
“He did what?!” Amalia screamed into the phone.
“Where did Dr. Anniston go?” She listened briefly before asking, “Did you see Alice get into the RV too?” The pencil she had been holding broke in two as she got the answer. “Ask Colonel, what's his name? The guy in charge of the military police.” She paused and listened. “Abrahms, yes him. Tell him I need him here right away.” She hung up the phone and stared at the video monitor.
She watched the entire recorded encounter with Wilcox and Dr. Anniston's people several times before there was a knock on the door.
Placing her hand on her sidearm, she asked, “Who is it?” fearing it might be Wilcox.
“Colonel Abrahms, Military Police.”
After they reviewed the footage together, Abrahms looked at Amalia with a deeply disturbed expression.
“What do you suggest?” He asked, looking at a frame of frozen video showing Wilcox pointing a gun at Alice.
“Can you arrest him?”
“General Heller could order it, but he's out at the blast site. I could send word and tell him what's happened,” Abrahms said, looking doubtful.
“Why don't you call him?” Amalia asked.
“The radiation out there makes communications difficult. It would be easier and quicker to just send a message. He could be here in ten minutes if he thinks it's warranted.”
“Warranted? Didn't you see the video? Wilcox has snapped. He's dangerous.”
“Without audio the video isn't as damning as it looks. I'll grant that it looks bad, but neither of us know precisely what happened in there. We could wait. Colonel Aswan Hussein, Wilcox's replacement, should be here in less than an hour.”
“Wilcox has been relieved of his command? Maybe that's why he snapped. Nonetheless, I want you to have guards doubled around the perimeter. I don't want Wilcox to run off before everything is sorted out.”
“I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't do that without orders from my commanding officer.”
“General Heller?” She asked furiously.
“Yes ma'am. I wish I could do something but-”
Holding up her hand, she interrupted, “Okay, forget Wilcox for the time being. Can you send MP's to try and find Dr. Anniston and his RV? I've tried calling him since they drove out of here like terrified rabbits, but they won't answer.”
“That's something I can and will do. Should I contact local police for assistance in tracking them down?” He asked, while scribbling on a notepad.
She looked thoughtful for several seconds before shaking her head no. “That's probably not a good idea. Just give your men Dr. Anniston's phone number and have them try to call him. If he answers or they catch up with him have him call me.”
“Yes ma'am,�
�� Abrahms said, before quickly leaving her office.
“Fuck,” she whispered, staring at the frozen image of the colonel pointing a gun at a woman he'd thrown across the room a few seconds earlier. Starting to sit at her desk, she reconsidered when she realized her back would be to the glass window and the parking lot beyond. Several Hummer's with red and blue flashing emergency lights pulled away from the command trailer as she felt increasingly nauseated. Backing as far away from the windows as possible, she tried to call Dr. Anniston again.
*****
Deputy Fulton handed Agent Mendez the first aid kit he'd retrieved from his squad car and asked if he could do anything to help.
“I think he'll be okay. What about the other two guys up there? Are they dead?”
“Looked dead to me. Sure glad you came along. I never was very good at first aid. It doesn't take much to make me queasy,” he said, looking at her as she carefully packed a large gauze bandage over the knife wound on the boy.
“Did you check them for a pulse?”
The deputy looked at his watch before answering. “Paramedics should be here soon. I'd hate to muck up the crime scene for nothing. If they're dead, all I'd do is mess it up.”
“You've got a camera in your car, right? Snap some pictures and then check them for a pulse. Or do you need me to do it, since you get queasy?” She asked in exasperation.
His face felt hot as in an embarrassed voice, he said, “Yeah okay. I'll go, just stay here with the kid.”
After climbing out of the ditch, he ran back to his car and grabbed the digital camera. He snapped two wide and several medium distance shots of the scene. There was a large pool of blood surrounding the bodies that was already attracting flies. He put the camera in his shirt pocket and stepped on the few dry patches of ground near the bodies. His stomach rumbled uneasily as he looked at the big kid he didn't recognize laying on top of Orlando Duprat.
Leaning closer, he saw the fat kid's hands were still wrapped around Orlando's neck. He reached down and found no pulse on the fat kid. From the way the bodies were arranged, with the fat one laying on top, there was no way to check Orlando's pulse without moving his body. He reached out and shoved the dead fat kid off. It wasn't easy. He was a heavy corpse.
Pushing harder, with flies buzzing around in growing numbers, the kid rolled over and long slick pink snakelike coils of intestines slid out of his sliced open belly.
Suddenly the deputy didn't feel queasy. He felt violently sick and valiantly fought not to lose control. But with his recent breakfast in full riot mode, he knew he was going to be sick. Turning toward the front of the van, away from the bodies, he vomited uncontrollably.
Orlando felt like shit but was alive.
He gasped softly; finally able to breathe now that Kenny was no longer crushing him. Wet splashes and gagging sounds informed him someone was being sick nearby. The sunlight blinded him as he opened his eyes. Realizing he must have been unconscious, he spotted a police car a few yards away with its red and blue lights flashing on the roof.
Turning his head, he smiled weakly and watched a deputy losing his lunch. His throat and head hurt as he quietly got shakily to his feet and retrieved his knife. He moved toward the deputy, that was facing away from him leaning forward with his hands on his knees. Gotta do this fast. He's probably already called for backup, he thought, raising the knife.
Mendez heard the deputy being sick and shook her head. What kind of cop gets sick from a couple of dead bodies?
Realizing Amalia should be updated, she reached for her cell phone and stood up. She saw the cell signal fluctuating between no service and one bar. Thinking she'd get better reception up in the parking lot, she looked at the boy and dog and lightly bit her lip before speaking. “You watch him for me. I'll be right back,” she said to the dog.
Frodo sat by Jake and looked up briefly as she turned and climbed out of the ditch.
I should have taken that job with my brother and been a car salesman. They never have to deal with this kind of shit, Deputy Fulton thought, as he closed his eyes. The multicolored splashes on the pavement and taste of partially digested eggs, bacon, and coffee had only made him feel worse as his stomach continued to churn miserably.
Between convulsions of puking he heard a soft squishing noise behind him. He opened his eyes and saw the shadow of a man holding a knife cast on the pavement and the side of the van. With no time to think, he tried to leap away as he saw the shadow arm swinging down.
Goodbye deputy, Orlando thought, swinging the knife.
Midway down, he felt something grab his foot and pull him back. The knife still sliced Fulton, but the damage was much less than it would have otherwise been. The blade ripped through the deputy's shirt and slid across his back instead of plunging in as Orlando had intended.
Yelling, Fulton stumbled forward uncertain how bad he'd been hurt.
Agent Mendez heard the deputy screaming and ran the last few feet to the parking lot. She didn't know where to look first as she drew her gun.
There was a crawling fat boy trailing his intestines behind him as he held on to an ankle of a muscular blood covered young man. The man gripping a knife looked down and tried to yank his foot free while struggling to keep his balance on his other foot.
The bleeding deputy was turning back and trying to draw his gun.
“Drop the knife!” Mendez shouted, aiming at the knife wielding man.
Orlando looked at her and back at the much closer deputy. They both had guns pointing at him. He dropped the knife and it clattered on the blood and vomit covered pavement.
Through glaze covered eyes, Kenny looked up briefly at Mendez before releasing his grip. Without saying anything, he collapsed on the pavement still gripping one of Orlando's shoes with his bloody hands.
She covered Orlando, while the deputy handcuffed him, but a small brief movement made her glance down. A tiny brown roach crawled out of the fat kid's ear. It moved so fast as it ran across his face then under the van and out of sight she half doubted what she'd seen.
*****
The tops of several towering pine trees swayed slightly in the gentle breeze as children ran and screamed below. The park had swings, slides, and a pavilion with a large brick grill. Two children, a boy and girl, saw something unusual and decided to investigate as their mother gossiped with the other women.
“It's a movie star bus. I bet someone famous is inside. Let's go get an autograph,” a little boy with a snot dribbling nose said, pointing at the large black RV which was parked on the side of the road a few dozen feet away.
“I don't wanna go see a dumb bus. Besides it's probably full of dirty old men looking for kids to steal... Hey, you know on second thought maybe you should go over there,” his older sister said, before yanking his hair and running back into the park laughing.
He almost ran after her but curiosity got the better of him, as it often did. Casually strolling through the grass, he stopped by a wooden fence that separated the playground from the parking lot and wondered who could be inside. The boy climbed on the wooden fence and was straddling it when the door of the RV opened. An old man with white wispy hair came out followed by another old guy.
The boy quickly climbed back off the fence and ran back into the park screaming something about dirty old men.
“Why won't you answer the phone?” Alice asked again. It had been ringing constantly since they'd started down Highway 79, five minutes earlier. “It's driving me crazy.”
Dr. Anniston nodded and turned off the power on the cell phone. “If either of you have cell phones you should turn off the power as well. If they have enough time, I'm sure they'd be able to find us by the signals they put out. And for now, I want time to think undisturbed.”
“Crap, I left mine back in that damn trailer,” Alice said, but checked her jacket pocket where she usually kept it just to be certain.
“I have never owned a cell phone, James, as I'm sure you well know,” Trevor said, while hol
ding a box with a small circular metallic antenna protruding from the front of it. It made a faint static noise as he began to walk around the RV's perimeter.
“What's he doing?” Alice asked, as Dr. Anniston stuffed his pipe with tobacco.
“Checking for bugs,” He explained while lighting the pipe and staring up at the blue sky.
“Eww, I hate bugs. I'm glad he's doing it, but shouldn't he be using a spray or something.”
Chuckling softly, he puffed at his pipe. “I'm sorry my dear. I meant to say he's checking for spy bugs. Locators or tracking devices used to keep tabs on people. I doubt he'll find any, but for now I'd like for us to vanish while we consider our options.”
She nodded and checked her purse to make certain her phone wasn't inside.
A few minutes later Trevor had circled the RV and reported that there were no bugs. He smiled at the old man and Alice sitting on a wooden bench a few yards from the vehicle. She looked a little shaken up still but the old man seemed deep in thought.
Trevor climbed back into the RV and went about checking for more bugs while wondering what would happen next.
The vehicle wasn't small, but after a few minutes he was convinced there were no surveillance or tracking devices on board. Thinking it a good time for a small celebration he stopped by the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle. He poured a small bit into a glass and sipped at the brandy. Drinking and driving, as if we don't have enough troubles, he thought, and smiled knowing it would take half a bottle of brandy to seriously affect him.
A distant siren growing louder made him sit up behind the steering wheel as his smile vanished. Glancing at the bench, he saw his employer and the lady seemingly oblivious to the sound. He pulled his machine gun onto his lap, and stared at the highway a few hundred feet away. It's hard to be inconspicuous when you're driving something as big as an eighteen wheel truck, he thought bitterly.
