The Fever Dream

by Sam Jones

  A thought crept into Black’s mind…

  Find out what happened.

  “What really went down with The Trust?” asked Black, somewhat eager. “Is it true? Did you have a Re-Val?”

  Roenick played through the history in his mind. His stone cold eyes went a little soft. “No,” he responded. “But I’ve told too many tales lately to recap that particular narrative.”

  “You better start telling me something.”

  Roenick relented. At the very least, it would buy him some time. “Would you agree that The Trust doesn’t tend to produce to the most well-rounded individuals?”

  I want a cigarette.

  “Not in the slightest,” replied Black.

  “That tends to be what they end up terminating their employees over: their flaws. At least what they deem to be flaws. You remember your endurance and stamina training, correct?”

  Black did.

  Held underwater by an instructor for minutes at a time. Dozens of kids around me subjected to the same.

  If you didn’t improve your time, they held you down longer.

  I was seven.

  “I remember,” Black said.

  Roenick glanced towards the water in the pool as it rippled and churned. For both him and Martin Black, they felt like a certain breed of dog, which other than for replenishment, could not stand to be near water.

  “I always thought,” said Roenick, “that those memories would haunt me. Our training. Our superiors. Our executives. But it was the day they sent a Contractor to my apartment in Austin to execute me that I will never forget. It eats away at my sanity like cancer.”

  Black stopped and stepped in front of Roenick, their noses practically kissing.

  “Quit pussyfooting around the story and just tell me what happened,” Black said with an edge in his projection.

  Roenick looked dead into his eyes.

  “I fell in love. Physical engagement is accepted with The Trust but not relationships. I was planning on leaving the organization, they killed my lover, and then they tried to kill me.”

  Yep. That’ll make a bad guy out of anyone.

  Black took a step back. Cassie felt sympathetic as the freshly revealed details of Roenick’s former life further painted the picture of a man she despised.

  “Is that what this is all about?” Black asked Roenick. “Revenge for your dead girlfriend?”

  “It’s not that complicated,” said Roenick. “However, when The Trust killed my boyfriend and left me for dead, I did vow to repay the favor one day. I knew I would need someone on the inside to help me find the Executives. I just didn’t think it would be now that the chance to find a link to them would arise, in the form of you, nonetheless... It’s almost… too fateful… But, I must say, there are far more competent Contractors I would have feared or thought would end up coming after me.”

  Oh…

  Fuck. You.

  “This is where you can come in into play, Martin Black. You are in a position to put me in touch with someone such as the lovely Miss Trask,” said Roenick.

  “You’ve got connections,” said Black. “I’m sure you could do it on your own. You don’t need me.”

  “True. Perhaps I’m offering to spare your life and recruit your services out of pity.”

  “You’re a big softy, you know that?”

  “Regardless of my intentions towards The Trust, today is not the day for revenge. My intentions with Amanda are a slightly more pressing and time-sensitive situation.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “No.”

  “Then I walk.”

  “Then you die.”

  Roenick nodded down towards Black’s chest, a red, fluorescent dot held steady on his shirt, near the heart area, courtesy of an unknown sniper lingering around in the wings.

  Black grinned.

  “Did you blow up that strip club?” Black asked him.

  Roenick shook his head.

  “I was hoping you could answer that one for me,” Roenick said.

  “Wasn’t me,” replied Black. “The body count was also larger than what I thought it was, too. Apparently three extra bodies were found.”

  “Hmm… How very peculiar…”

  Black examined Roenick, from head-to-toe. He could sense a sinister force suffocating the man’s soul. Repeat offenses from third parties in his past had molded and shaped him into the ruthless piece of shit he was.

  What was most noteworthy to Black were his eyes.

  Most everyone who came across Roenick felt discomfort or fear when they connected gazes with him. But what Martin Black saw, behind Roenick’s cold steel pupils, was a ticking time bomb of desperation.

  And desperate men were the most dangerous and unpredictable kind.

  Or the most stupid…

  “You’re a kamikaze pilot,” Black said to Roenick. “You’re strapped in and ready to die to get what you want… Because you’re a dead man walking… Aren’t you?”

  Roenick said nothing, but it confirmed everything to Black.

  “Miss Palizzi,” Roenick said as he motioned a hand to her. “The paper, please.”

  Cassie produced a familiar piece of parchment from her jacket pocket that Black knew to be the Commitment Waiver.

  Phew. Thought I lost you.

  “It’s signed,” Roenick said. “I made sure Amanda printed her name clearly.”

  Black could spot Amanda’s scribble on the bottom corner of one of the crumpled pages.

  “You can walk out of here and join my ranks,” said Roenick, “or you can return to your slave owners like the mindlessly devout animal you are.”

  The brick of money and the CW in Cassie’s hands were all Black needed. They called out to him. The payoff he needed, the validation for a sidewinding, but still completed contract.

  I did what I was supposed to do.

  I won.

  I can take this stuff and walk.

  “There should be no hesitation,” said Roenick. “Walk away from Amanda Dubin.”

  The mention of her name threw Black into the past; in the brief hours he had known and accompanied her around the grid of Los Angeles. His sympathies were now bestowed upon the innocent client with a tangled past, which was fogged up with such deceit that even she didn’t know which way was up.

  She just wanted to be free.

  Out of all of us, she’s the only one of any real innocence.

  Black’s recall then shifted to the pine tree keychain Amanda had been preciously protecting that night at the bar like a lifeline and the look on her face that yearned for memories of days that had long since passed.

  Like me and Lizzie.

  That pine tree was Amanda’s Lizzie…

  The sidetracking caused him to make a choice that was more clear and concise than any of the propositions, fables, or false promises that Roenick, The Trust, and even Stan Hope had made to him over the course of his life. For a man who questioned his sanity, composure, and damn near everything else, the choice he made became clearer than crystal—

  I’m going to rescue Amanda Dubin.

  Because it’s the right thing to do.

  Period.

  He began stroking his chin like old Kung Fu instructors in ‘70s flicks.

  Martin Black was a classic cinema type of guy.

  “Let me guess,” he said to Roenick. “Your boyfriend’s name was ‘Roenick,’ wasn’t it? Calling yourself that was some touching little tribute to him.”

  Roenick smiled.

  “We have our own, funny ways of dealing with the pain,” he said. “Some souls you meet on this earth are so unique that the absence of their presence is a void that can never be filled by anyone else. Family included.”

  Cassie felt the statement was meant as a slight on her, as well as a painful truth for Roenick. Black could feel the distress in her presence.

  “You should have just gotten yourself a fucking dog,” Black said to Roenick.

  “You’re not special,” he
continued on. “You’re going to start a war and take Amanda down with you. All you are is just another one of those sob stories whose soundtrack to life stuck is on the heartbreak station. Bub.”

  “For a man as tactful and lucky as you seem to be…” Roenick said, stepping closer towards Black and once again closing the gap between them.

  “This isn’t about revenge,” said Roenick. “Though I do plan on having mine on your… on our former superiors once I’ve finished my time with Amanda. They killed my lover and left me for dead. We’re far from reaching a middle ground on the matter.”

  “Much as I can identify with the notion of wanting to eighty-six someone like the lovely Miss Trask… I can’t let you do this, bud. I’d say I’m sorry… but I don’t really like you, so I’m not going to.”

  Roenick exhaled with an honest impression of disappointment in his tone that held a brevity and depth like a buddy whose friend just turned him down for a beer.

  “You’re really not going to walk away from this,” he said to Black. “Are you?”

  Black began to reach for his Beretta.

  Roenick prepared to give the order. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Martin Black.”

  As Roenick went to raise his finger to give the signal…

  …Cassie pulled her SIG and pressed it into his spine.

  “Hold up there, big brother.”

  She cocked back the hammer. The click of the metal managed to echo out, despite the surrounding noise.

  It took a moment for Black to catch up.

  His eyes went wide.

  What the hell is she doing?

  “Cassie,” he said. “What the hell—”

  “Shut up, Marty,” she cut in.

  Roenick held his hands up in surrender as Cassie removed the Walther from the back of his waistband.

  “This is extremely disappointing, Miss Palizzi,” Roenick said as he began looking around for his snipers.

  She pocketed his gun as she held a grip on the back of his belt with her free hand.

  “Now you know what it feels like to be your sister,” she whispered in his ear.

  Two red dots appeared on Cassie’s chest.

  “You know I’m at the tail end of my patience,” she said. “Tell Kaplan and Delaney to back off.”

  She pressed the gun harder into Roenick’s spine.

  Roenick sighed, tilted his head towards his shirt collar and then spoke into it. “Back off,” he said.

  The red dots disappeared.

  “Marty,” Cassie said to Black. “We’re leaving.”

  Black nodded toward Roenick. “Maybe you should just shoot him.”

  “I really want to,” Cassie said, “But if he dies, we die, and Amanda dies.”

  “Correct,” replied Roenick.

  Black’s eyes moved back to Cassie. Suspicious.

  “I can’t trust you,” he said.

  She clenched her jaw. “You don’t have a choice.”

  She’s right.

  “Keep your gun planted in his back,” said Black. “He’s going to take us to Amanda.”

  Roenick shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  Cassie tightened her grip on his belt. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

  Roenick laughed. “I’ll allow you both to leave the club. I’ll go so far as to letting you use me for cover until you get to the elevators. From that point, we will part ways, and after that, I’ll order Kaplan and Delaney to pursue and execute you. It’s a shit option, but it’s your best option, at the moment. It’s either that or I order Kaplan and Delaney to shoot us all, retrieve Amanda, and slit her throat. I’m giving you the chance at a running start, for sake of my own self-preservation.”

  Black and Cassie took a few seconds to think it over before nodding their confirmation on the new plan.

  It was as shit option.

  But it was their best, at the moment.

  “Move,” Cassie said to Roenick.

  She kept her grip on his belt as she turned him around and pushed him towards the elevators, her index finger caressing the trigger of her SIG and itching to start the process of severing his spine with one, simple squeeze.

  Black stayed on Roenick’s left, occasionally switching sides to throw off the snipers as Cassie made the deliberate play to weave herself and Roenick in and out of the crowd for cover. Between Cassie and Black’s combined training, they moved and responded well to one another.

  They made it safely to the elevators as Cassie turned Roenick around and walked backwards with him like a human shield.

  “Why quit on me? Why the change of heart, Miss Palizzi?” asked Roenick.

  Cassie started fishing around in Roenick’s front pocket. She pulled out a set of keys to his Mustang.

  “Would you mind taking a different car?” Roenick asked. “I rather like the Mustang.”

  Cassie didn’t give him an inch. She snatched the keys.

  They arrived at the elevators. Black reached out his hand and pressed the down button. His head swiveled in a hawk-like rotation as he kept an eye out for anything resembling a ‘Kaplan’ or a ‘Delaney.’

  “You’re making a mistake,” Roenick said to Cassie.

  “The only mistake I made was following you around, Roenick. I’m coming after Amanda. This isn’t right. This is beyond backwards.”

  “You can’t help her.”

  Cassie leaned into his ear, canine teeth catching the light as her lip curled like a pissed-off animal. “Watch me.”

  Ping!

  The doors to the elevator opened. Black and Cassie stepped inside, Cassie’s gun still trained on Roenick’s backside as they distanced themselves from him.

  “Garage,” Cassie said to Black.

  Black hit the button for the garage level.

  “This isn’t over,” Black said to Roenick.

  Roenick shook his head and tsked, still faced away from Black and Cassie.

  “Oh, Martin…” he said. “I think the world has grown weary of the ‘white boy hero’ by now. Don’t you think?”

  Shit…

  He might be right…

  Another ping. The doors slowly began to slide shut.

  “Hey Roenick!” Black shouted after him.

  Roenick turned his head.

  “What kind of music do you like?”

  Roenick faced Martin Black—

  “Guns N’ Roses,” he replied.

  Black smiled.

  The doors closed. For a brief moment, Cassie and Black relaxed. The two of them stood a few feet apart from one another.

  Cassie holstered her SIG while Black held a suspicious eye on her.

  “Save me the looks and questions until after we get out of here,” she told him.

  “Fair enough,” replied Black.

  A minute later they reached the garage. Expensive luxury and sports cars occupied every parking spot of the hexagonal layout. The only way in or out of the structure was an automated tollbooth with a yellow arm.

  “You see any of your people?” asked Black.

  Cassie looked around. “Not yet. Roenick’s car is in the back.”

  They moved towards the rear and came upon a red Ford Mustang resting between a white Lexus and blue bimmer. The lights glowing above their heads made the cherry paint job on the Mustang glisten.

  Black couldn’t help but whistle. “I’m not going to ask where you got it.”

  She unlocked the doors, and they piled inside, Cassie behind the wheel. Black couldn’t help but appreciate the rich smell of the upholstery as he slid into the passenger’s seat.

  Cassie inserted the key and started the ignition; a throaty rumble rang out as the engine turned over.

  Black removed his Beretta and rested it with a firm grip on his right thigh. Cassie knew he was only preparing for the unexpected, but she couldn’t help but keep a cautious eye peeled on him.

  Black continued to scan the parking lot as Cassie threw the Mustang into gear,
turned right, and headed for the exit. The looming sense of an unseen predator overcame their senses the closer they came to the gate at the tollbooth.

  Cassie pulled up to the tollbooth. It was after hours, so no ticket was required to exit. The ‘gate’ was a yellow noodle-like arm that was currently lifted.

  Cassie pulled forward. The front end of her Mustang dipped and pulled onto the street. A pair of headlights from off to the right came to life; it appeared to be some kind of SUV. Waiting.

  “Punch it,” said Black.

  Cassie accelerated and threw the Mustang into second as the SUV roared to life in pursuit, tires burning rubber.

  Cassie came to the end of the street and hooked a left onto Las Vegas Boulevard, a green Camry darted out in front of her and caused Cassie to step on the gas before swerving hard to the right.

  Another few inches and the Camry would have t-boned the Mustang.

  The Camry came to a stop, causing the SUV to slam on its breaks. The Mustang peeled away up the street towards the freeway on-ramp, a quarter of a mile away.

  By happenstance, a police cruiser converged onto the scene, preventing the SUV from continuing its chase.

  That stroke of luck (for Cassie and Black) forced the SUV to retreat in the opposite direction and back to the compound where Amanda was being held.

  When Roenick discovered the failure, he shot Delaney in the face out of frustration.

  Martin Black and Cassie Palizzi were hiding out in the desert. After they fled from the scene at The Lunar Club, they drove for over forty-five minutes through a series of unpaved roads that Cassie seemed to have no prior knowledge of. Every rocky and bumpy turn and route she took were decisions made in the moment.

  By the time she came to a stop, they found themselves in a place that looked like it existed only in dreams. Darkness hung low over a vast landscape of nothing but red sand, rocks, and the frigid, cold air of the desert. Surrounding and enclosing them in a fence built by nature was a fifteen-mile spread of mountains known as Red Rock Canyon. Daylight must have added a substantial element to the scenery, because the black of night made the red and brown spine-like ripples across the topography of the mountains look the like petrified and leathered flesh of some sort of ancient beast that was slain thousands of years ago.