One Plus One (The Millionth Trilogy Book 3)

by Tony Faggioli

  That was close. Man. Another four feet and it would’ve been at my chin.

  Kyle was exhausted, but there was no time to rest. Lying on the ground, he realized that the three creatures attacking The Gray Man were unaware of what had transpired. That or they simply had their hands full with The Gray Man, who’d managed to pull Salamander Lady’s tail off of his face, revealing one eye glaring out for help.

  Kyle couldn’t risk taking a shot at her, so instead he leveled both hands at the shorter Nazi. Noticing that his right hand was hanging limply, Kyle tightened it into a fist, the pain again less so now, as if he were going into shock or something. The double bolt that escaped his hands cut one of the men into threes, one bolt carving through him just below the armpits, the other one right through his hips. He fell, akimbo and lifeless, to the sand.

  The tall Nazi screamed and turned towards Kyle. His eyes darted side to side as he seemed to debate on what to do next: relinquish his grip on The Gray Man to go after Kyle or hold his ground. It was the only delay The Gray Man apparently needed, because in that split second he reached up with his one free hand and punched a hole into the Nazi’s chest, a white light bursting forth into the creature and imploding him in a starlight flash that sent meat and bone in every direction.

  Gasping through a small hole beneath Salamander Lady’s tail, The Gray Man stumbled forwards, but seeing that her comrades had fallen, the salamander doubled down on her grip, eliciting a scream of pain from The Gray Man as she once more engulfed his face in her dry skin.

  Kyle rose to his feet and ran towards them, stumbling on a half-buried rock. Regaining his balance, he launched himself at them both and knocked them over. As they all fell to the ground, he scrambled to get a hand in Salamander Lady’s face, determined to blow her head off.

  Instead, she released her grip on The Gray Man and lashed her tail at Kyle, striking him upside his head so hard that he almost lost consciousness. The world blurred and spun, then snapped back into focus. She was on the ground between The Gray Man and him, spinning in tight circles as her eyes rotated sideways.

  Salamanders weren’t supposed to have large teeth. Kyle was almost sure of that.

  But this one did. Oversized, sharp and jagged.

  All her movement had kicked up the sand so much that a cloud had enveloped them, making it harder to see.

  Kyle could make out motions through the cloud. Her tail came at him again and he ducked, barely in time, hearing its meaty weight swing over him, sensing that that blow most likely would’ve broken his neck had it connected.

  Then she was gone, the sound of struggle off in the distance now, where The Gray Man had been, before she was back again, her head darting at him through the sand cloud, her teeth gnashing at Kyle’s face. Instead, she caught his broken hand, which he’d raised to protect himself. He cried out in pain, and almost in reply the air around him crackled and vibrated.

  Her eyes widened in terror as, behind her, the dust and sand was blown away by…

  Kyle gasped.

  The Gray Man stepped forwards in a light gray tunic fastened by a leather belt at the waist, his wings massive and glorious, his eyes glowing white and his chin set firm.

  Salamander Lady tried to scramble off Kyle and get away, but The Gray Man had her by the tail and was pulling her, hand over hand, towards him.

  She twisted onto her back, claws exposed and slashing, her teeth snapping in defiance.

  Kyle could do nothing but watch, dumbstruck with amazement at the sight of his friend as The Gray Man reached forwards, grabbed the creature around its neck, and began to speak in a blend of languages that appeared to cause the creature far more distress than any blow ever could.

  It screamed in hellish wails as, slowly, it began it fall apart. Back limbs first, then its right front leg, before its head popped open and its brains oozed down its back, a final hiss escaping its throat.

  The sounds of heaven and hell, meeting in this little spot of desert on earth, receded as quickly as they had arrived. Kyle lay still as the blue ebbed away, a pocket of it pooling and throbbing at his wrist, healing him.

  After a few moments, the cry of a lone hawk cut through the sky above.

  “Gray?” Kyle said. “What’s wrong?”

  His friend, who’d been looking at the ground, perhaps in prayer, looked up at him. When he spoke his voice was his own, but deeper and more resonant. Of all things, he looked sad. “I am revealed,” he said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means… Kyle, listen to me. You know how to find Tamara. You must now. On your own.”

  Then he simply blinked away, as if a switch was flipped and he had been turned off.

  “WHO’S EFREN?” Trudy said, looking first to Parker and then to Napoleon, her eyes still partially glazed over with shock.

  Stunned, Napoleon could barely speak. “What did you just say?”

  “I asked, who’s Efren?”

  Parker looked hard at her. “Why, Trudy?”

  “That man. Ben. Right before I shot him, he was telling me that the kids weren’t safe, that they’d never be safe, and to tell ‘him’ that neither would Efren. But I don’t know who he was talking about or who Efren is.”

  Napoleon’s stomach went sour. Now he felt like the one in shock. “He meant me. To tell me. Efren is my nephew.”

  “Shit,” Parker muttered. “What else did he say?”

  “Just that. But it was the way he said it that was weird.”

  “What do you mean?” Napoleon asked firmly.

  “It was like, at the end there, when he knew he was going to die, he got really sad, ya know? Like maybe it was all a game until that point, and then it became real. He was like a scared little kid about to go on a roller coaster ride he wasn’t ready for.”

  “And?”

  “He wasn’t ready. Not at all. He was terrified. It was like…” Trudy faded away into her thoughts as she looked out the window.

  “Like what, Trudy!” Parker yelled, snapping her out of it.

  She looked at Napoleon. “Like the Efren comment was an attempt to make amends, like maybe he was tipping you off to something.”

  Pure fear clutched at Napoleon. “Parker. Give me your phone, man.”

  “Yeah. Sure thing,” Parker replied, reaching into his pocket.

  Once the phone was in his hand, Napoleon froze again.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Parker… I can’t remember the number.”

  “For who?”

  “Efren’s mom.”

  “Call the station, they’ll—” Parker stopped short.

  There was no way Napoleon could call the station, and they both knew it. And with sirens approaching from a distance, time was running short. He felt Parker take the phone back from his hand and call in himself. Murillo and Klink weren’t in, but Dane, the Desk Sargent, was. Covering the mouthpiece quickly, Parker whispered to Napoleon, “What’s her name?”

  “Anita. Anita Villa. She lives on Boylston. Middle name Ana.”

  In short order, Parker relayed the information to Dane and was put on hold as the sirens loomed louder.

  “Did you notice?” Parker asked.

  Napoleon squinted at him as impatience began to rise like lava from his stomach into his chest. “What?”

  “Nothing froze or disappeared this time. Like at McDonald’s or the 7-Eleven.”

  “Yeah,” Napoleon answered. “Nothing back at McDonald’s now but a bunch of confused people looking at a shattered window and a bunch of overturned chairs that, last time they noticed, were whole and upright.”

  “But here, with Ben?” Parker pressed.

  “He wasn’t from there, I guess,” Napoleon surmised.

  Trudy’s face wrinkled again with confusion. “From where?”

  “Hell,” Napoleon said bluntly.

  Parker nodded. Trudy, evidently topped off on stress for the day, seemed to take Napoleon’s words and file them away for a later time.
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br />   “Still nothing,” Parker said, still on the phone.

  “They’re almost here, man. I gotta go. I’m just going to go to the house. It’s not far.”

  “How? If you take the rental they’re gonna wanna know where it went, especially if they want to head back to the station house for statements.”

  “The bus will take too long,” Napoleon said, speaking mostly to himself.

  “Plus, how will you know if I even reached her if you don’t have your phone?”

  Napoleon felt as if he were outside his body, confused beyond rational thought. These were alien feelings, and they were overcoming him when Trudy spoke up out of nowhere.

  “Take my phone and take the car,” she said bluntly, handing Napoleon her phone and the keys. Then, looking at Parker, she said, “They don’t even know I have the rental, but if they ask, we parked it miles away and walked here to throw Ben off. We’ll have them drive us all to the station and tell them we’ll worry about the rental later.”

  Parker looked at Napoleon and nodded. “Go,” he said.

  Napoleon wasted no time. As he exited the room he looked down at the small crowd that had gathered around Ben’s body. The facility manager was keeping most of them at bay, comically using a mop to do so. Someone in the crowd had a small white dog though, which had pulled its leash taught and thus far had gone unnoticed as it licked at a small trickle of blood that had made its way down the pavement. Trying not to be obvious, Napoleon went down the stairs at the opposite end of the balcony and thanked his lucky stars that very few people noticed him as he made his way to the car.

  He backed up, pulled out of the driveway and was just making his way down the street when he saw in his rearview mirror three black and whites pull into the motel, sirens blaring.

  He drove as calmly as he could, watching as random pieces of trash danced across the street, caught in the tug-of-war of the cars that were passing in opposite directions. He clenched his teeth, thoughts of Efren being in danger bouncing around in his mind like shards of glass. He wanted to peel out, but that would be stupid. As if to prove his instincts right, another black and white was making its way down the boulevard from the opposite direction. There was nothing like a speeding car leaving the scene of a shooting to raise suspicion.

  Instead, he calmly drove at the speed limit, down the street and to the freeway on-ramp. Then, once on the freeway, he punched it.

  Traffic was moderate but the cars seemed to be spaced out intentionally to frustrate him, with no gaps to exploit. A green Altima blocked him in on the left, a Ford F-150 on his right. To make matters worse, the slow lane had been gobbled up by semis trying to make their delivery deadlines. He banged the steering wheel with his right hand and tried to think. What could Efren possibly have to do with any of this? How did they even know about him?

  “Shit!” Napoleon screamed into the empty car, hoping to relieve some of his panic but actually doing just the opposite, only ratcheting it up another notch.

  As he made his way to East LA it felt like hours, not minutes, until Trudy’s cell phone finally rang. He reached down and punched the speaker button on it. “Yeah?”

  “Your sister is a major fucking pain in the ass.”

  “Why?”

  “She wasn’t about to tell me anything. Not a thing. I was a strange man calling, saying I was with the police and asking where her kid was. I get that, but man does she have a mouth on her.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know. So where is he?”

  “He’s at a little league game. Evergreen Park. His team color is—”

  “Dodger blue. I know.” Tears were filling Napoleon’s eyes. How could he have forgotten. When he’d seen Efren last, his nephew had told him that he had a special double header, for Cinco de Mayo.

  He wanted Napoleon to come and Napoleon had said he’d try to make it.

  Now he had to make sure he didn’t make it too late.

  “Hey, Nap. I’m down the hall, sneaking this call to you. So I’ll make it quick. I’m sorry.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I couldn’t get her to shut the fuck up. She wouldn’t listen. I had to tell her…”

  “Tell her what?”

  “That you’re alive. That you’re the one trying to get to him.”

  “What?”

  “I lied too. I told her that you’re on your way there with a few units, so she wouldn’t worry.”

  Napoleon laughed. “Are you crazy? She’s not going to worry, man.”

  “Okay then. That’s good, right?”

  “No, Parker. Instead of worrying, you know what she’s gonna do? Call every member of Cuarto Flats in the area and send them there. To a park full of Evergreen gang members.”

  “Screw it. As long as someone gets to him first, right?”

  “No, Parker. Wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “We know which side is after Efren. So let me ask you something,” Napoleon said with the heaviest sigh of his life. “How many gangsters you ever met in your life that were right with Jesus?”

  The other end of the line went dead quiet.

  CHAPTER 27

  IT WAS WHEN THE people in Elywood froze in place that Tamara realized something was wrong. The world didn’t just… freeze like that. She was driving right through the center of town, determined to get past it to a place she could feel safe, somewhere she could flag down a woman to help her get some clothes, some help, anything, when it happened.

  The town, the world, locked in place.

  Her brain immediately went through a series of rationalizations, one of them logical (she’d fainted, is all, from the exertion of the fight), the other terrifying (she was still in the trunk, asleep and having a bad nightmare). Something had to give. There had to be an explanation for why the world just got stuck like the bad second hand on a rusty watch.

  But the images and the impressions weren’t going away. The woman who’d been standing next to the red Pontiac was caught in a half-seated position, one leg straight, the other out, as she’d just been getting into the car when it happened, while the lady with the groceries had just finished loading them into the back of a pickup truck and now looked like a crouched mime, both hands open-palmed against the front of the tailgate, which she had been closing. A man down the street with a rake over one shoulder remained in a half-walk, his stride split, the backpack over his shoulder hanging out oddly from his body, as if it were mounted on a stick.

  Tamara had the feeling that she was seeing something unreal… How could this be? There was no wind coming through the crack in the car window. No feeling of energy in the air, or warmth from the sun. Even a small flock of birds flying in the sky over the front windshield were locked in place. How was this possible? How did—

  The dirt ahead of her, about ten yards away, began to shift. In a normal situation it would’ve hardly been noticeable, but now, in the silent cocoon of the world in suspended animation, it sounded like an avalanche.

  When she looked to see what the origin of the sound was, her grip on reality only grew weaker. A man was rising from the dirt, as if ascending from beneath a stage of some kind, an invisible platform under his feet. At least she assumed it was a man; he had the build of one, tall and lean with broad shoulders, as the dust cleared she could see that he was wearing a black wool trench coat—grains of sand and dirt cascading off of it as he rose—and a top hat, of all things. It was the creature from the mirror.

  He had one hand at his side, clenched into a fist, and his other hand behind his back for some reason, his forearm curving at his hip. His black shoes had scuffed tips, and his dark gray pinstriped slacks matched his vest. A gold chain hung there in a small loop, one end no doubt attached to a watch of some kind in his vest pocket.

  She stamped on the gas pedal. The engine roared… but the car didn’t move.

  “No! How? How is this happening?” she screamed.

  He cocked his head to one side, then to the other, then back again, a
s if he were studying her, as if he could see her just fine.

  Then he nodded slightly, as if he were either impressed or accepting some sort of truth about the situation. So this was the creature that Troy the Monster had been talking to all this time, a creature that emanated murder and hate, as if that was all that it lived for.

  “W-what do you want?” she finally managed to scream, her lips trembling.

  In a wordless reply the creature brought its other hand around from behind its back, and extended towards her an old brass lantern.

  Like the one Ben had given her.

  Her body went cold with shock. Ben? He had been a part of all this.

  “Dead now,” the creature said bluntly, its voice deep and hollow, like rotted wood. Then, from beneath the cloth strips, it chuckled softly.

  She was just about to speak again when the small door of the lantern swung open and the entire world collapsed in sheets of black, gray and white. She wanted to get out of the car to run, but that required a place to run to, and there was nowhere she could escape.

  The glass of the windshield shattered. She hadn’t taken the time to buckle in but she didn’t imagine that, in the face of this kind of power, it would’ve mattered. She was levitated and jerked through the window like a toy.

  Then they were off and traveling somewhere, at an insane speed, Tamara’s eyes only seeing the world in dull-colored smears as her insides leaned hard against her ribs.

  When they came to a stop she was in a cave.

  Turning slowly, sensing that the creature was still nearby, she saw him at last, in the far corner, his arm still outstretched, the lantern still hanging there, but now swinging slightly from side to side.

  “Where are w-we?” Tamara squeaked, panic stuck in her throat like a chicken bone.

  The creature said nothing. Instead, a gray light flashed from the lantern, illuminating the room in the depressing color of a cloudy day. “You stay here,” his voice rumbled again. “Learn. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done killing your husband.” He nodded. “ You’ve been the perfect bait. And now? He’s unprotected.”