Twisted City

by Jeremy Mac

  The movement in the SUV stops.

  All of Loak’s tools are still here scattered over the tables. No one was in a hurry to pack it all up and leave for good so they left it all here to come back to retrieve later. Mathew goes directly to the tools table to sift for his knife while Loak goes to the open driver’s side door. Loak peers inside and says, “So how about it, buddy?”

  The only visible things of the figure are his back and legs, anything beyond that is lost behind the driver’s side seat. But something isn’t quite right; the clothes, he remembers Lathan wearing baggy black pants and a white tank top and these clothes are brown and beige, and the figures back is long and slender whereas Lathan’s is V-tapered. Loak is about to say something else but the figure moves so fast that he catches him off guard. Loak glimpses a flash of chrome in the figures hand as he lunges backward and swings around, smashing Loak in the jaw.

  Loak falls backward on the floor. Everything starts to spin and tunnel out, feeling like he is going to blackout. The last thing he remembers is his son, Matthew, as he sees the figure crawl out of the driver’s side with a black briefcase in one hand and a wrench in the other.

  60

  The moment he hears someone call out he knows it is over with. He’s caught and there’s no way out of it. His whole body freezes up and he swears his heart stops beating. But then he realizes what the person said, “Hey Lathan!” so they believe that he is Lathan in the vehicle. And they also said “we”, implying there was more than one. He watched as Nick and Kent left separately from Loak and his son and he recognizes this voice as Loak’s so he assumes it is him and his son who have returned. He hopes so anyway. He just opened the secret compartment and took out the briefcase. His heart kick-starts itself and begins thumping rapidly as he breaks out in a sudden sweat. A hundred ideas of what he should do race through his head all at once before he decides which one to follow through with. He had grabbed a big wrench before entering the vehicle thinking that he may need it. He didn’t need it at all inside the vehicle but now he definitely needs it outside the vehicle.

  From the sound of it he thinks he may have broken Loak’s jaw or at least knocked out some teeth. He’s pleased at how well it worked out. Loak is on the floor, looking dazed. He will need to finish him off of course. He doesn’t like the idea of smashing his head in with a mechanics wrench, Loak’s very own mechanics wrench at that, but he isn’t about to take the time to go searching for something better to use.

  He puts the briefcase down and stands ominously over Loak. Loak’s eyes droop and his mouth hangs limp. He clutches the wrench with both hands and carries it above his head.

  Nighty night, Loak Bosman.

  61

  Mathew isn’t exactly sure when he last saw his knife or where he was when he last had it in hand. He likes tinkering with tools, their mechanics fascinates him, so he goes to the tool table thinking he may have put his knife down while messing with a tool, and sure enough his knife lay right inside the tray of a big red tool box.

  That’s when he hears his dad yell out. He turns to see his dad on the floor, a sickening moan comes from him as he tries to pick himself up on his elbows. Then he sees someone coming out of the vehicle and it is not Lathan. This man is very mean looking with a beak nose, pale skin, and long greasy black hair slicked back over his head. He puts a briefcase down on the floor and then carries a big wrench up over his head. Matthew knows what he is about to do, he is about to hurt his dad. He can’t let that happen. He has to do something!

  Instantly sober, he searches through the tools and grabs the most ideal tool, a one and one half inch socket wrench. He knows better than to yell, that will give the man warning, but with no time to lose he throws the socket wrench with all his might. It whirls through the air, making a swooshing sound as it goes, and although it does not connect where he intended it does whack him smack dab on the elbow, stunning him and momentarily deadening his arm in the process.

  Matthew then allows himself the release of a yell at the top of his lungs. “Leave my dad alone!”

  With one lifeless arm hanging at his side, yet still gripping the wrench tight with the other hand, and disbelieving what just happened, the man turns to the boy and gives him a venomous glare as he says, “You will pay for that you little bastard.”

  He steps in the boy’s direction, but Loak gets hold of his bearings and hooks his legs between the man’s and crashes him down onto the concrete floor; the wrench is thrown from his grasp and clangs away to rest underneath the SUV. Loak pushes himself up and flings himself onto the man before he’s able to get back up. Summoning every ounce of strength he can muster Loak throws a punch to his face. The man’s ugly face squinches up when he is hit. Loak throws another punch but the man puts out an arm, blocking it, and then delivers his own punch to Loak’s jaw. The pain overwhelms Loak and he falls on his side.

  The man flies on top of him, drilling him with a series of reckless punches until deciding to wrap his hands around Loak’s neck and squeezes.

  “Die you son of a bitch,” the man growls, spittle flying out of his mouth, his eyes bulging with madness as he pushes all of his weight down into Loak’s neck.

  Loak’s windpipe is being crushed. He can’t draw a single breath. He is going to die.

  But something happens.

  The man’s head jerks oddly and his face goes blank. Then his head jerks twice more and the grip on Loak’s neck loosens.

  The man collapses on Loak.

  Pushing the man off Loak gasps for breath. He chokes and coughs and draws welcoming air back into his burning lungs. Once he is finally able to breathe he glances over to see his son staring down at the heap that lay beside him, a dead stare, and the pocket knife Lathan gave him clinched in his hand.

  The man’s mouth twitches open, like he is trying to say something but can’t. His eyes stare off into nowhere. There are three visible stab wounds in the center of the back of his neck where Matthew severed the spinal cord, explaining the man’s sudden paralysis.

  Loak goes to his son, removes the knife from his hand, and holds him tight.

  62

  Loak and Matthew are taken up to James Grant’s personal quarters and Dr. John is immediately sent for. Gossip tends to spread like wildfire in The Pinnacle; proving to have grown and maintain a healthy and active social structure, and it will not take long before the town is abuzz with news that the Grant building was under attack (maybe by the Maddick’s, depending on who is telling it) and with what the town went through only a month ago Grant does not want it to go into another sudden panic. Keeping the incident contained and everyone under a gag order is enforced; no one is to leave the building and no one but the doctor and his nurse is allowed in.

  Lathan is notified soon after and he rushes to Loak’s aide. Loak can’t speak well with a fractured jaw, especially with the sling Dr. John has wrapped around his head to keep his jaw immobile, but Matthew is a whirlwind of words as he tells Lathan with great enthusiasm what happened.

  Lathan tossles the boy’s hair and calls him a little hero, eliciting a broad smile from Matthew.

  James and Lathan leave to go down to where everything took place. Several guards are either conferring around the body or admiring the modified SUV, but when James walks up they step to attention. James is pissed and it shows.

  “Who is he?” James asks the head guard.

  “We’re not positive, but a couple of men say they believe he’s a street sanitation worker. I’ve got someone looking into it so we should know something soon.”

  James steps in closer to the head guard, boring holes into his eyes. “This is a breach of security, something that should not have happened. I want to know how it did and I want whoever is responsible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lathan steps around everyone, glancing down at the body but not recognizing him, and picks up his briefcase. He lays the briefcase on the driver’s side seat, and even though he is confident the box is still safe
ly intact he rolls the combination dials to their correct numbers and opens the briefcase anyway and relief still washes through him to see it there. He closes it and discreetly puts it back in the not-so-secret compartment. This time he does what he should have done in the first place; he locks the doors.

  James stands next to Lathan, crosses his arms and looks down at the body. “Seen him before?”

  Lathan shakes his head. “No.”

  They are silent for a moment and then James says, “Is there something I should know, Lathan. Something about that briefcase?”

  What can he say? Tell him what is in it and then watch as he’s thrown into several different kinds of disbelief and then when the reality of it settles in the aweness of it will overwhelm him with such a high degree of wonder so that even he, the Great James Grant, won’t be able to contain himself. No, this is something best kept to himself. It will cause too much of a disturbance. What bothers Lathan the most is the fact that he has a vehicle here full of goods, weapons, and artillery, yet this stranger went for the briefcase. Not only that but he somehow knew about the secret compartment. A stranger. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he’d been rummaging around and happened to discover it. It is covered with its original interior and no one can tell that there’s something beneath it unless they know to peel the carpeting away, and he refuses to believe that Nick or Kent told someone about it,either. There is no way for them to know about the briefcase anyway or its contents. But somehow this man had known. But how? And as far as what to say? There isn’t anything to say. He doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for anything. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to be questioned about his own personal effects and what his intentions are. Especially after what he has done for James and his people thus far, even if it did have an unintentional outcome. He is grateful for the hospitality but his own benevolence will go only so far. He suppresses the urge to put James in check and leave right then and there, but out of respect for the man he holds his tongue and says nothing, which is as close to an answer as James is going to get.

  Confirmation arrives that the man’s name is Daniel Cray, a street sanitation worker. No known relatives or close friends. Quiet but friendly, reclusive yet ready and willing to work whenever and wherever work is to be done. A thorough sweep of the garage finds what appears to be an explosive device attached to the undercarriage of the SUV right above where the wrench that busted Loak’s jaw landed. Orders are given that Daniel Cray’s quarters are to be shaken down and any suspicious materials and documents are to be confiscated and brought to the buildings headquarters for examination. A full investigation is now underway. One of the buildings security guards asks to volunteer for the search, the back entrance security guard to be exact. He is rejected. A special team will do the search. All those who were on post at the time the incident occurred are escorted upstairs and placed in separate rooms for questioning.

  A wave of anxiety ripples through the back entrance security guard.

  63

  The sex is long and most enjoyable, if not a little desperate, as if both are trying to exercise demons through their pelvis’s, knowing it will be their last night together. Taya hopes that maybe it will be enough for him to change his mind and stay. She’s never felt this way before. Happy. Although she’s had her fair share of lovers, it was always only about the sex. Never about love or anything close to it. Not on her part, anyway. But he is different. She’s asked herself if the old world still existed and if they had met under different circumstances would she still feel the same way about him? But those are only what-if’s that do not matter, fantasies more or less, because tomorrow he will be gone, and maybe gone forever. Funny, considering that’s the main reason why she was so dead-set against love in the first place; they love you today and leave you tomorrow. She’s always left them first, never giving them the chance to.

  She dozes, her head on his chest, listening to his lungs pull in breaths of air and the deep thump of his heart, wondering if he will be here when she awakes in the morning.

  64

  Lathan is awake, staring up at the high ceiling, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts so he can get to sleep but there is too much going on in his head for it to simply all wash away.

  The sex is definitely something he will miss and remember well. The memories of it will surely get him through what is likely to be hard times ahead of him. What are the chances of it being as simple as taking a cross country drive? 50/50? Something tells him that that is being very optimistic. With the way things look here he can only imagine what the open country is like.

  He peeps down at the long dark nest of hair on his chest and the soft naked body that lies across his own. She asked once if she can go with him, but she will only be a distraction, like now, and distractions get people dead. Tough as she may be, she is not made for the stuff he may likely be up against. He will remember her, always. If for anything, just by how she reminds him of the other one. Geneveve. But there will never be another Geneveve.

  Finally he finds the lure that lulls him to sleep, thinking of her, and that leads him into a good dream.

  And then early morning he awakes into a nightmare.

  65

  Mongoose is unable to get to sleep. He is up all night thinking about what he should do. He sifts through ideas, trying to find an out, but none of them have happy endings. The scenario is simple: If he doesn’t do what he is sent here to do then the woman he loves and the old man are killed, but if he does do it then these people are doomed. He’s never cared for anyone before in his life but now he finds himself at a crossroads in caring too much for both ends. How the hell did that happen? It’s unlike him to feel this way. Sure, he’s known to throw someone a bone every now and then if they are in need but whether or not they survive to see the next day, or the next hour even, is never a big concern for him. As long as he and his trusty dog are okay then everything is okay. He stole, he robbed, he killed if necessary, some may even say that he isn’t much different than a Maddick but no one will dare say it to his face. And when he really thinks about it he has done before what the Maddick’s are trying to do now, except his marauding is on a much smaller scale and done only to those who are Maddick’s or close likenesses.

  But all of the innocent people who will be hurt and killed during the takeover, men, women, children, all of those inevitable deaths will be stained on his soul. The Maddick’s will not discriminate against who will be slaughtered. Most of them will be in it only for the thrill of the kill regardless of the spoils to be reaped.

  But Jizell, his precious Jizell, has given him so much more than he’s ever had in his short but violent filled, troubled life. She’s given him new meaning, purpose, and what will he be if he lost her?

  He’s sick about it. All of this is such a heavy burden. A mental overload full of emotional self-disgust. He’s even thought about going to James Grant personally about it but quickly rejected that idea. James may not even see him and even if he did and he believed him it still won’t save Jizell and Tank.

  It’s now or never.

  66

  The streets are vacant. Although there’s a curfew it’s way too early in the morning for anyone to give notice to Mongoose and Max being out, other than those policing the perimeter and most of them have become so lax in their duties from a long night that they don’t notice them sneaking down the street.

  About a half block away from the gate Mongoose checks left and right to locate all the gate guards. Only two; one is on the high planks of the gate wall, hunkered down behind it, steadily dozing off and paying little attention to anything, the second one is down by the gate door, sitting in a chair, head down, chin to chest. Another long boring night for the gate keepers. Mongoose mapped out how he would do this several days ago (during the day) but he anticipated for the guards to be at least half alert with maybe even a couple more of them on post. This is going to be almost too easy.

  Mongoose whispers, “Max,” and the dog gl
ances up at him. Mongoose points a finger at him and gives the order, “Stand guard.”

  Max stands alert. He will not move an inch unless he senses danger or if Mongoose is in trouble.

  With Max’s watchful eyes on him Mongoose sneaks off to the farthest side of the gates wall, to the corner by the office where he was required to leave his weapons. He doesn’t need them at this very moment. He has something else that will immobilize both guards quite nicely. He brings this out of his pants and quietly comes up behind the guard sitting in the chair and a second before he brings the lead pipe down on top of the sleeping man’s head, he freezes. The slightest movement rings alarm out of the corner of his eye. Another guard, strolling atop the wall surrounding the perimeter to the right, holding his rifle in crucifixion fashion, across his shoulders, behind the neck, head down, clearly tired and bored, up walking around and trying his best to stave off sleep and hold out until his shift is over.

  Mongoose ducks down behind the guard he is about to clobber. Max’s head twitches upward at the guard, a low rumble in his throat. Of course Mongoose is too far away to hear this, as is any guard, but he knows the low growl is there nonetheless.

  Mongoose waves his arm low, getting Max’s attention, and points directly to the ground, a signal to “Stay and stand down”.

  The growl ceases but he keeps a direct stare on the guard up above and on his master.

  The guard ambles a few more paces and without breaking stride he turns on heels and heads back toward the way he came. Once he is out of sight Mongoose takes a gander around once more, listens for any sounds, and when he is satisfied that all is clear he bonks the guard on the noggin. He makes a “ungh” sound but never moves.