“You took something of mine three days ago,” Cassidy says as she joins the gang leader in his booth. Hungry after days of barely eating, she takes the man’s burger and puts her feet on the table. “You stole a tall man with black hair, orange pants, and I think he was wearing a shirt with some clawed guy on it. Anyway, I’d like him back. We have a job to finish and I can’t get very far without him. So tell me who you sold him to and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“As if I’m going to be threatened by a skinny thing like you,” Jackman responds, clapping his hands to bring attention to the intruder. Guns of all sizes are aimed at the blonde, who continues to delicately eat her burger. “You must be in love with him if you’re willing to throw your life away. Now I’ll give you one chance to walk out the door. After that, I’ll move out of the way and my people will turn you into chopped meat.”
“There are worse ways to go,” she responds, spinning the pin of a grenade on her finger. A murmur of concern runs through the crowd and one of the dogs whines from the kitchen. “I may have hidden a little present in the building along with a nitrous tank that I took off one of your bikes. They aren’t exactly in the same place, but close enough that when the grenade goes boom, the gas will too. It’s fucking amazing how many hiding places there are in this place for something as small as this. You might open a door and find the grenade falling to the floor or jostle a table that frees it from where it’s stuck. So as I said in my message outside, we should be friends. By the way, I like your motorcycle. The black and red design looks better than whatever that thing on the back of your jacket is. Not sure if it’s supposed to be a horse or a starving elephant.”
“It’s a deer, but the antlers were torn off,” the gang leader replies, handing his keys to a lieutenant. He points to where his bike is sitting in the dirt, making sure the larger man knows what he is asking. “I hope you realize that your friend would have been left alone if he kept his mouth shut. Our special client requests that we bring her unmarried men with last names. Not that a man like Lloyd Tenay should go around crowing his identity. Amazing, that a serial killer has a friend out here. Figured you were like him, but didn’t expect there to be a sense of attachment.”
“We have a business partnership, but he does kind of grow on you.”
“He would have to if you’re willing to challenge me for him.”
“Like I said, I can’t do my job alone.”
“Of course. A man like that must be very useful and worthy of your concern.”
“Stalling isn’t a good idea.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I have more surprises that I might forget if you keep dodging my question.”
The revving of Jackman’s motorcycle makes the gang leader nervous and he watches out the window as his man starts to drive it back to the parking lot. The bike makes it a few feet before it explodes and bounces along as a fireball. Pieces of debris crack the east side windows, one of them shattering as an exhaust pipe javelins through the pane. Rolling behind the motorcycle, the rider’s flaming helmet slows down and stops facing the building. A woman screams when she sees that the head is still inside, wide eyes open as if the man knew what was about to happen at the last second.
“I had a box of grenades and left several of them in randomly chosen bikes,” Cassidy announces, tapping her finger on the table. Taking a covered lighter out of her pocket, she casually flicks it open and closed. “This delay is costing me. Had to call an old friend back east and use a favor to keep a Half-Dead off my ass. Still haven’t met the monster, but I’d like to keep things that way. So tell me everything about this client and how she can contain a man like Lloyd. If I like what I hear, I’ll tell you about the other surprise I put in the building’s sprinkler system.”
“You’re definitely a creature of this new world,” Jackman says, amazed by the cunning and viciousness of the young woman. He is about to light a cigarette, but stops when he remembers the threat. “Our client’s name is Emily Stein and she lives in Hillsdale, Michigan. It’s a nice town that’s maybe half an hour north of Pioneer. She’s the only one there, but there’s plenty of food and water from the stores. We bring her specialty supplies and men in return for being allowed to stay in the town between jobs. All I know about her past is that she was going to be married before the collapse. Her husband disappeared in the chaos and the rest of the town attempted to leave for Canada. Probably killed and made part of a plague swamp by now. Anyway, that’s all I know about her.”
Cassidy sighs and takes a bite of her meal, only considering that it may be poisoned after swallowing. “That isn’t all you know. Why does she want these men and how is she keeping them under control? Lloyd would have killed her and wandered back by now if there wasn’t something keeping him there.”
“Could be that Emily is gorgeous and he’s hoping to bed her,” the gang leader bluntly explains while taking an offered drink. With his bike destroyed, he figures he can enjoy some alcohol and not worry about having to drive later. “I’d be tempted myself, but she’s too young and it’s not good to mix business with pleasure. That and she’s fucking crazy. Every man is given a house and she pretends to have married them. All she wants is a husband, which is why she wants those with last names. If the victim doesn’t cause enough trouble to get killed, she plays housewife until she gets bored and moves on to a new victim. The old one is locked in the house and left to starve to death. She keeps them under control by giving them a fake medical condition. She knows how to make this poison that makes their adrenal glands sensitive or something. All I know is that any stimulation makes her victims think they are having a heart attack. We bring them in groggy and confused, so it isn’t too hard for her to trick them.”
“Is there an antidote?”
“She always keeps some on her in case she ingests the stuff.”
“Good. Then get out of the booth and follow me to my jeep.”
“My gang won’t-”
Pulling an umbrella out of her pocket and opening it, Cassidy hops onto the table and briefly holds the lighter up to one of the sprinklers. Sensing that something bad is about to happen, the dogs rush out of the door and scramble into their tent. Brown water that the gang mistakes for sewage covers the crowd and they hold their breath in anticipation of a foul stench. When a few of them swallow the liquid, they realize it tastes like chocolate and relax. Some of them laugh at the prank until they get a closer look at the thickening rain. A rainbow sheen is on the growing puddles, which reminds them of an oil slick. With Cassidy’s lighter constantly turning on and off under the umbrella, the bikers wonder if they are now standing in the middle of a deadly fire hazard. Tension runs high and they head for the door, stopping only when Jackman shouts from them to return.
“Chocolate is poison to dogs,” Cassidy states, smiling at how Lloyd would be proud of her comment. With a small grunt, she kicks the damaged window out and hops onto the frame to avoid walking through the mixture. “I’m taking your boss on a road trip. As long as he behaves, nothing will happen. My business is really with this Emily. Does anybody have a problem with that?”
A sea of shaking heads answers her question and she steps out of the restaurant, turning to aim her handgun at Jackman. She holds up a piece of paper with the locations of the grenades and bends down to put it under a rock. The gang leader climbs after the young woman and follows her around to the back where the jeep is waiting. She tosses him a garbage bag and clean clothes, keeping him at gunpoint until he has changed.
“Was all of this really necessary?” Jackman asks while getting into the passenger seat. He is startled by the amount of knives on the floor at his feet. “It seems very excessive.”
“I just had this car fixed and cleaned. I don’t want you making a mess in it,” Cassidy says as she peels out of the parking lot and heads north. Handing her new driving buddy a map and taking a soda out of the cooler behind her, she watches the mirrors for signs of pursuit. “If you mean my perf
ormance then it was really necessary. One woman against an entire gang? That’s just insane. In fact, I’m surprised it worked out so perfectly. Any one of you idiots could have killed me and simply searched around for the grenades. My mom always said you can do a lot with confidence, so I think I did her proud. Now tell me where we’re going and I’ll let you pick the music since you’ve been such a wonderful host.”
*****
After leaving Jackman at the edge of town, Cassidy follows his directions to the first house that he said Lloyd may be kept in. Not wanting to be seen, she parks her jeep several blocks away in an alley and packs only a few small weapons. She doubts a crazy housewife will give her much trouble, but a knife and a handgun makes her feel more comfortable about the unknown. A blinking light reflects in her side view mirror, which draws Cassidy’s attention to the window of the lingerie store across the street. Grabbing her binoculars, she checks out the object and curses at the sight of active explosives. The blonde slips out of the jeep and inches to the mouth of the alley to get a look at other buildings. Each one has a bomb that is either big enough to level the structure or connected to a few tanks of propane.
“That crazy bitch must have the entire town set to explode,” Cassidy mutters, putting her beloved handgun back in the car. One of the last things she wants to do is miss a shot and start a chain reaction, especially if the gas mains beneath the ground are still active. “Maybe Jackman was right and I should leave, mom. Lloyd is only a serial killer I busted out of jail to act as a bodyguard. So far I’ve been having to save his ass more times than he saves mine. He’s violent, psychotic, deranged, obnoxious, and . . . the only person I currently have in this world who can physically back me up in a fight. You’re right, mom. I brought him into our world and I have to be responsible for him even if he leaves a trail of bodies in his wake. No, I won’t become like him. Yes, I’m getting meaner around the edges, but I have reasons for what I do. Give me some credit, mom. I didn’t blow the Border Collies up, which is a show of restraint. Ugh, I really am broken if I’m talking to a locket. Then again, I’ve never been on my own before. Okay. Stop wasting time, Cassidy, and get moving.”
Rushing across the empty street, she ducks into an alley and heads for the buildings on the next block. She keeps running and scales a gate to get into the backyard of a one-story house that shares a chain link fence with her target. Cassidy can already tell that something is wrong when she climbs over the fence and sees that all the curtains have been drawn. Slipping through the patio door, she is met by the horrible smell of rotting food and bleach that is masking the scent of a fresh corpse. Praying that the body is not Lloyd, she carefully avoids stepping in splotches of moist blood on the tiled floor and keeps an ear out for movement.
Cassidy finds the trucker’s brutally murdered body sprawled on the floor, his head bashed in by a golf club. A pair of kitchen knives are still plunged into the man’s chest and she can see at least twenty other wounds from multiple weapons. The man has a few strands of black hair in his clenched hand, which Cassidy finds under a table on the other side of the room from the rest of him. Noticing a note on the counter, the young woman creeps along the wall and tries to take a peek. She does not bother to read the message when she sees that the ink is still wet and stops moving in case Emily is nearby.
The sound of someone leaving the house causes Cassidy to draw her knife and tiptoe toward the backyard. Even though she knows she should run, the tense blonde crawls behind a trashcan that is on the other side of the chain link fence. The container keeps her hidden while giving her a clear view of the street. Her heart beating from excitement and fear, she watches Emily walk away in a blood-soaked dress that used to be white. The woman strips off her ruined clothes and goes into another house, which Cassidy knows is not the other one on Jackman’s list. It dawns on her that Emily might be using every building in town, which makes her think she can use the jeep to find Lloyd and escape without a fight. Doubt needles her mind, but she pushes it away for the chance to get out of this mess and continue on her journey.
Still trying not to make a noise, Cassidy returns to the jeep and takes the long away around to a two-story house, a jockey statue grinning at her from the lawn. Parking in front of a mailbox with Lloyd’s last name on it, the blonde shudders at the creepiness of the situation. Jogging up the walkway, she has a strange sense of nostalgia when a memory of visiting her friends pops into her mind. It is strong enough to nearly make her ring the bell, but she shakes her head clear of the dangerous urge. Not wanting to spook Lloyd and get blindly jumped by the captured serial killer, Cassidy opens the front door and gently closes it behind her.
“For fucks sake, Lloyd!” she shouts when she sees the naked man lounging on a leather couch and watching an action movie. Even when he moves a pillow over his groin, the young woman is sure the image will linger. “Toss on some pants and come with me. Emily is fucking crazy. She takes husbands with last names because she’s some serial black widow bride. If you stay, she’ll either kill you or lock you in here to starve to death. Oh, and she has the entire town set to explode. Stop gawking at me and put more than socks on. You could have done this while I talked to you.”
“But I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack if I step outside,” Lloyd replies, grabbing a nearby pair of silk boxers. Hopping over to the television, he grabs a small stack of movies and tucks them under his arm. “Come to think of it, why didn’t you tell me about this kind of condition? Toxic booze seems like it would be a common threat. I keep you alive to guide me around . . . and I owe you. Not like we’re friends or anything.”
“Condition?” Cassidy asks before remembering what Jackman had told her. She kicks a nearby table, which causes her companion to stop putting on his pants and a bland-colored hoodie. “Fucking hell, I forgot about the poison. Emily has been dosing you with something that screws up your adrenal glands. It’s like the slightest bit of excitement gets you going and it’s easy to push you over the edge. She has the antidote on her, but I was so busy trying to sneak around town that I forgot I needed to get my hands your fake wife. I swear to god you better not be imagining what I think you’re imagining, Tenay.”
“So she would have killed me with sex?”
“Emily butchered the trucker with a knife and golf club.”
“Well he was gay and probably didn’t fall for all this.”
“Then I don’t know how she’d kill you, but do you really want to die?”
Lloyd pauses and grins, the memory of naked Emily dancing in his brain. “Hard to answer that because I can think of worse ways to go. I mean, she’s beautiful and a great cook and gives me sponge baths. Then again, the two times I almost got a little action from her without the poison kicking in ended with her having headaches. You know, this is far too much trouble and risk just to get laid. Let’s go.”
“No. We need to catch her and get the antidote,” Cassidy replies, shoving Lloyd back to the couch. Searching for a hiding place, she opens the door to the basement and closes it as soon as she sees an explosive on the water boiler. “Just go back to whatever you were doing and I’ll hide in a closet. When she’s not paying attention, I’ll pounce and get what we need.”
“I’m slightly ashamed to admit this, but I’ve seen enough soap operas to know how this turns out,” the nervous man mutters before seeing that Emily is walking down the block. He sighs and flops onto the couch, but refuses to get naked again. “She’s almost here, so duck into that broom closet. If I end up getting killed by my evil twin who was given up for adoption at birth then I’m going to haunt you. Either that or come back after the audience has had enough time to forget how I died.”
Cassidy rolls her eyes before squeezing into the closet, the smell of cleaning chemicals making her a little dizzy. One bottle at face height is unmarked, so she wonders if it is holding the poison. The tight space makes it impossible to check and she freezes when Emily enters the house with a happy greeting. Lloyd falls right back
into asking if he can go outside and trying to get his fake wife naked. It is when things have been quiet for a few minutes that Cassidy begins to worry. As far as she knows, they are still in the living room, but there are no sounds of movement or talking. When she does hear something, it is the noise of manicured nails on the closet handle and an apology to Lloyd that she has to go clean a mess at work. Given the situation, the look on Emily’s face at the sight of the cornered blonde is both expected and terrifying.
“Who is this slut?” the housewife angrily asks, whirling around to glare at Lloyd. She grabs a nearby vase and throws it into the closet, its target having slipped out a moment before the attack. “I do everything for you, sweetie. Is it because we haven’t had sex? That can’t be all I am to you. Just a piece of meat for you to ogle and enjoy. How could you reduce our marriage to something to banal?”
“Because you’re fucking hot and I haven’t had sex in over a decade,” Lloyd innocently replies with a charming smirk. The expression becomes a grimace when his chest aches, the poison reacting to his anxiety. “Look, I don’t think this is going to work out. My friend here needs me and suburbia isn’t my thing. That and you keep slipping me something that may kill me. Normally, I’d kill you and move on, but there are two problems. One is that we need the antidote and the other is that I really do hope that we can reconnect later. By that I mean, testing out a mattress. I’m talking about-”
Crossing Bedlam Page 12
