“But, wait... Let me give you my cell number... I won't be here, I have to leave to meet a shipment at one of my other stores.” Silence on the line. “Annie?”
“What is it, Ronnie Lee?”
He read it off. She hung up without speaking again.
Jimmy slammed the phone back onto the wall so hard, that he broke the receiver case. Then he ripped it off the wall and threw it at a rack of guitars. "Cunt, fuckin' bitch, cunt, dirty fuckin' whore," he screamed. The phone knocked a half dozen guitars flying, and the noise was immense in the back of the shop. He started to the back door when someone began to knock on it. The door was a massive steel fire door and the knock sounded like a little kids knock. "Ronnie Lee? Ronnie Lee? Are you okay?" A female's voice called through the thick door.
Everything inside of him went cold. He reached into his pocket, felt the comfort of the silenced 9 mm. He flicked the safety off, and with one hand in his pocket quickly jerked the door open.
Two young women stood in the alleyway. Their mouths dropped open as the door swung inward fast, banging against the interior wall. Jimmy looked quickly left and right down the entire alleyway. Empty. He shoved the gun into the back of his pants and grabbed them both by the fronts of their shirts, pulling them inside before they could even react. He put one down with an elbow to the face, and then caught the other in a choke hold as he slammed the door and locked it.
He looked down at the girl on the floor, out cold. The other one struggled in his arms. He dragged her over to the workbench, squeezed her throat again choking her. He got his control back a few seconds later, he dropped the girl and she crumpled to the floor by the bench. He was breathing heavy. He got himself up and walked over to the other girl who still lay unconscious on the floor, and shot her twice in the head. The gun was so quiet he could hear the metallic click-twang as the ejector shot the used casing from the gun. He unlocked the back door, looked around the alley, and stepped out, closing the door behind him. When the door closed the girl by the bench took a huge gasp of air and choked, and then coughed several times trying to drag air back into her lungs. She spat blood. Her throat felt raw. She stood and staggered toward the front of the shop. Her head was pounding and tiny multicolored dots swam before them. She worked the locks and stumbled out onto the sidewalk that fronted the shop. Everyone that had been walking by stopped dead.
"Tried to kill me," she managed to croak. "Choked me, killed my friend," she rasped. A man stopped in mid stride, stripped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Cell phones began popping out of pockets all through the crowd.
Jimmy walked through the alleyway from the back of the shop to the lot where he had parked the rental car: When he stepped out onto the sidewalk he heard a woman scream.
"That's him, that's him... He did it."
He had barely turned his head in that direction when he was tackled by the biggest black man he had ever seen. His head and shoulder slammed into the concrete hard, but he managed to stay conscious. It seemed like everyone was screaming and yelling at the same time. He managed to break the man's grasp, staggered to his feet, and pulled his gun out of his pocket. He waved it at the crowd and they surged backwards almost as quickly as they had appeared. Blood ran from his head into one eye, but he staggered to his car and climbed in. He started it and sped out of the parking lot; sliding out onto the main road and down off the pavement into the ditch. He floored it and the rental car climbed back up out of the ditch and then into the opposite lanes of traffic. He got the car turned around and headed in the right direction and took off.
Mississippi
Billy Jingo
"Well?" April asked. She held a mirror while Billy looked at himself. His hair was jet black. His face was made up pasty white with black around his eyes. He wore faded and ripped jeans with a sleeveless T-Shirt and had two huge fake tattoos that sleeved his lower forearm and most of the shoulder. Motorcycle boots finished the look. He looked like a thousand other kids he had seen on the streets as they had driven into this section of the city, which was seedy and run down. He didn't look anything like himself at all.
April looked nearly identical to him. She had taken an ace bandage and wrapped it around her chest. Her breasts were not big to begin with, but now they had completely disappeared. She wore a black CDC shirt, painted on jeans that were ripped out at the knees. Her hair was cut short, dyed black and motorcycle boots clad her feet. She didn't even look like a girl anymore, Billy thought.
"We don't look like us at all," Billy said. "You did a good job, April."
They were at the seediest motel that they could find in the heart of the downtown area. Drug addicts in the hallways. Hookers in and out. A woman with one prosthetic leg, obviously a hooker, wandered by, smiling at Billy as she did. Nobody cared who they were. All you did was pay and take the room key. Not even a real key, but a plastic card that opened the door. Nobody here seemed to be aware of or really cared that the police thought they had two people surrounded at a motel just a few miles away.
Billy pulled her to him. "We don't have to, baby. We can leave here. Fuck the Suburban. Fuck the rest of the money too, just go if you want to. Just drive into Texas and then over into Mexico," he said. He kissed her and she giggled.
"What," Billy asked. "You look so... un-you," he added.
"You do too, that's why I laughed," April said. "Let's go. We'll go to Mobile, and we'll see from there. The morning is almost shot. It'll be late afternoon when we get there. He's got to come to wherever we are. We'll pick a safe place... And if it looks funny, we'll jump. That's all," April said.
"Yeah?" Billy asked.
"Yeah..." She looked around the room. "Let's go before we catch something, or find out that smell is a dead junkie under the bed or something," she said.
They had both commented on the smell: The smell was all through the motel. Rot and sewage. The building was old, falling apart, but Billy wouldn't be a bit surprised to find that there were a few junkies hanging around getting ready to die. Maybe even a few behind closed doors that were dead already.
They made their way to the car, drove out of the lot and headed for I10 which would take them into Alabama and Mobile.
Pascagoula, Mississippi
Sammy and Don
"Lieutenant Jeffers," the man said and shook Don's hand.
"I'm glad to meet you," Don said.
"Ditto," Sammy said.
Jeffers looked at Sammy like he was shit on his shoe.
"We have these two surrounded, but they don't seem to want to talk. To give up. We can see the curtain move occasionally by the window... Someone looking out here at us, but they won't answer the room phone. Won't come out..." He looked at Don only, dismissing Sammy. "They told you it doesn't look as though your little girl is quite so innocent?" he asked. "She was parading around out here half naked this morning. In and out. Him too, though not naked, but it's obvious she is not being held against her will. Talked to the desk clerk that checked them in, she made a positive ID. Said this Neo was done up to try to look younger, but she could tell he was older from his receding hairline. Said the girl was holding his hand, smiling, relaxed, she even saw them kiss on the way to the room... It's a different picture than the one we got on the official line." He pronounced it O-fish-O like it was some kind of joke. Which, Don supposed, it probably was to him.
"We've had no concrete information on any of these people," Don said. "With the exception that they were missing."
Jeffers turned away. "Not what I was told, old son," he said. "We may as well settle in, they don't seem much like they're coming out soon."
"Why don't you go in and get them?" Sammy asked.
"This ain't New York, Mr. Eastwood. We kinda like to leave them alive if we can," Jeffers said.
"Maybe we could work a little harder at getting along," Don said.
"Thought I was," Jeffers said. "I ain't said nothing at all about your garbage problems up there... Crack babies... Junkies... Pros
titutes on every corner."
Don held up his hand.
"Huh," Sammy said. "And I never said a word about the highest syphilis rate in the country... Rednecks, or fuckin' your sister either."
Jeffers turned around and looked at Sammy.
"We're not from New York City," Don said. We're from a little place up by Canada... A farming community... Small place," Don said and smiled.
Jeffers dragged his eyes away from Sammy.
“That so? A small place that has over half a dozen unsolved murders in just a few days? Sounds great. Sounds to me like New York city's just a name. The whole place is polluted," he said.
"Uh huh," Don said. "Tell you what, Jeffers. We'll just go back to our car. If you need us call us," he said.
"I ain't got your number," Jeffers said as they started to walk away.
"You're a detective right?" Don asked. He stopped, turned around and faced him.
"Used to be. Top of the division now. Top detective you could say," Jeffers said.
Don nodded. "Then detect it," he said and turned away.
"Smart-ass Yankee," Jeffers said to his back.
Don walked back to the car, unlocked it and got inside.
Sammy climbed in his side looking sheepish.
"Was that necessary, Sammy?" Don asked.
"Probably not," Sammy admitted.
"Did you really accuse the man of banging his sister?"
"No... I just said I hadn't said anything about it," Sammy said.
Don lit a cigarette, cracked the window and smoked for a minute. "It was a good one, Sammy... I never said that though," he laughed. "They really have the highest syphilis rate?"
"I read that... At least they used to have... Still might," Sammy said.
"Did you ever think about the phrase, "Getting along, Sammy?" Don asked.
"Not really, besides... He started it," Sammy said.
Don chuckled, smoked his cigarette and drank from his foam cup of cold coffee.
“Jesus,” Sammy said. “Detect it.” He laughed.
Mobile
Jimmy West
The shoulder was broken. He couldn't move it without the pain threatening to make him pass out. He was in a used car lot that appeared to be closed. He had pulled all the way out by the huge steel garage building. Parked in a line of several other cars, and was trying to figure out what to do next.
He had no idea what could have gone wrong. He supposed that someone had seen something inside the shop.
"That's him, that's him, he did it!" That had been all he'd heard. He had to have been spotted through the front windows somehow. He couldn't think of how that could be, but it had to be.
He managed to get his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one. The shoulder was broken and he was pretty sure it was dislocated too. He'd been through that before. It was going to take someone strong enough to wrench it out and back into the joint so it was seated properly: Until then he would have to deal with the pain.
He sucked at the cigarette, drawing the good smoke deep into his lungs. Feeling it calm him. The pain was beginning to own him. He dug under his seat and came out with a small black leather case. He was usually prepared for nearly anything. The case held morphine. Enough to keep him floating for days, or enough to kill him out right if he needed it. He screwed the needle into the plunger, drew some morphine from one of the small bottles, measured it carefully, tapped the syringe to clear the bubbles, depressed the plunger to get the air out, and then set the needle down to get his arm ready. Everything he needed was in the black case. A few seconds later he ran the needle home and pushed the plunger. He went away for a while.
He came awake again with the same pain, but he simply didn't care about it. Morphine was nice like that, it simply made you care less about the pain. Take enough of it and you wouldn't care about anything at all.
Something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. It took a couple of seconds for him to realize that his phone was ringing. He fumbled it out of his pocket and managed to get it open and up to his ear. "Yeah?" he said, hoping to sound as normal as he possibly could. But there was only static. No one there. He clicked off, thought about clicking the redial function, but he never did that. A guy he had worked with had done that and the cops had used the signal to locate him. If it was a legitimate call for him it would come back. He closed the phone and started to return it to his pocket. Thought better of it and set it on the dashboard.
The air smelled like burned plastic. His cigarette had fallen from his fingers and burned into the carpet. He managed to pick up the cigarette butt and flick it into the ashtray. It was long cold now.
He opened the glove box, found a half full bottle of water and took a sip. It had a musty smell, but he could have cared less. His throat was dry. He needed the water.
He drank down the entire bottle and felt a little better. He lit another cigarette and the phone rang again.
He clicked it on and said hello.
"Why didn't you answer before?" April asked.
"I was about to, in fact I did and you weren't there. I took too long," he told her.
"Things like that make me wonder," April said.
"My fault," Jimmy managed. "My Fault.” I'm going to take days killing you, he thought... Days.
"Do you know where Airport Boulevard is?" April asked. "Right off I 65?"
"Yes," Jimmy said. You just told me, he said to himself.
"There's a Burger Joint on the right. Just past the Check Inn. What are you driving?"
Rental car, Jimmy thought. "A... A Ford Taurus," he said. "Silver. A burger joint, or one of those places called Burger Joint?"
"The brand name... What did I say? … Pull out in back of the Burger Joint, we'll watch for you," April said.
"Are you kidding? In public?" Jimmy asked.
"It's all dumpsters back there. No one will see. No one will care. Take it or leave it, Ronnie Lee," April said.
"Okay... Okay... I'm on my way," Jimmy said. He closed the phone. Fumbled the black case back together and slipped it into his pocket. He got the car started and then got himself back out on the road.
Mississippi
Sammy and Don
Don had walked back over to the police line, borrowed a pair of binoculars and checked out the motel. He found a Jeep, but it was not the one that had been purchased in Rochester. He watched the window in room 118. The heavy drapes did move on occasion, but he watched three other rooms close to it that had also been evacuated and their curtains moved too. In fact, they moved in exactly the same way.
Don walked over to Jeffers. Jeffers turned around and looked at him. "Where is the fellow with the bad jokes?" Jeffers asked.
"In the car," Don said. "We're leaving."
"So soon? You just got here," Jeffers said.
"Uh huh. You're watching an empty room. That's the wrong Jeep out there too, but I'm sure you know that. You must have checked the license number?" Don said.
"Checked it. Wrong Jeep. Already knew that, but I think it's the right people in that room," Jeffers said.
"There aren't any people in that room," Don said.
"Care to put your money where your mouth is?"
"Absolutely," Don said. "It's an empty room." He took out his wallet. "A hundred bucks says it's empty."
A young black detective smiled as he listened to the exchange.
Jeffers looked at him, took out his own wallet and matched the hundred.
"Let your man hold it." Don said. He handed his hundred to the young detective. Jeffers followed suit.
"Guess you ain't leaving now," Jeffers said "you'll have to hang around to see how everything comes out."
"I already know how everything's gonna come out," Don said. "It's an empty room." He turned and walked away.
Jeffers snorted. "Smart-ass know it all Yankee bastards," he said. He and the young detective laughed. "Hang on tight to my money," Jeffers told him. They laughed again.
"Hey?' The young detec
tive said a few seconds later.
Jeffers looked to where the young detective was looking in time to see Don jump a small hedge and walk across the motel parking lot toward room 118.
"What in Christ's name does he think he's doing?" Jeffers asked.
"Dunno," the young detective said.
Don walked right up to the door to room 118, stopped, drew back his leg and kicked the door open.
The young detective looked over at Jeffers, but his mouth was hanging open.
"All on live TV too," the young detective said.
Don walked back out of the room and looked over at Jeffers whose mouth was still wide open. He lifted his hands and shrugged in a what's up motion and then came back across the parking lot, jumped back over the hedge and walked up to Jeffers. He looked at the young detective.
"Where's my money?" Don asked.
The detective dug two one hundred dollar bills out of his pocket and looked at Jeffers before he handed them over to Don.
Jeffers mouth was finally closed, but his cheeks burned red. His eyes sparkled and darted from Don to the motel room door which was still wide open.
"You probably want to get a tech crew in there. I'm sure they were there, but they're not there now. Like I said it's empty," Don said. He turned and walked away.
Mobile
Airport Boulevard
Behind the Burger Joint
Billy Jingo
"I'll only talk to him," April said. She listened. "I'm going to hang up if you don't get me his cell phone number. I know you're trying to trace this call." She motioned for a pen from Billy and wrote down the number. She closed the phone and took a deep breath. "Well?" she asked.
"Why do you want to do it?" Billy asked. She had called the number from the news program and asked for the detective from New York.
"Because they think we killed some of those people, and I don't want them to think that. It's not fair. What did we really do wrong?" April asked.
They were sitting in the Camaro in the back of the Burger Joint waiting for Ronnie Lee.
"You think he'll believe you, he'll even care?" Billy asked.
"I don't know... I hope so... We're going anyway, it's just what they say about us... I don't want them to think that you made me come with you," April added. "I love you, Billy. It's wrong for them to say that."
Earth's Survivors: box set Page 160
