Wicked Seeds

by Cameron Sword

  Jenkins unexpectedly surged up from his chair, grunting distastefully, waving the air near his nose before taking a seat further away from Nathan.

  “What the hell did you eat, man?”

  “Fruit. It’s a killer.”

  Kent’s cell phone chimed. Munda and Clarke calling. Before he could answer it however, Olive unexpectedly materialized at the door, wearing a frightening expression and a lab coat five sizes too large.

  “You can’t run from the law, Bart!”

  Kent and Jenkins craned over, trying to process what they were witnessing. Even Nathan needed a second or two. Had Kent answered his phone, he would’ve learned that Nathan had lied. The TV remote was empty. Kent and Jenkins instinctively reached for their firearms but froze as Olive swung open the lab coat to reveal the dynamite belt. She walked further into the room, with a pronounced swagger, like John Wayne with a hip problem.

  “Ain’t no way you’re gonna cage me, Sheriff, I’ll blow us all to hell first.”

  Kent and Jenkins exchanged glances. What? What did she say? Jenkins finally piped up.

  “She’s insane, Kent. Look at her eyes.”

  “She’s bluffing.” Kent replied, confident, slowing reaching for his gun again.

  “Okay then. I suppose I don’t have anything else left to say except that your next twitch will be your last.”

  Olive produced a lighter and actually lit the short wick. Everybody’s eyes bulged.

  “Okay, okay, put that out!” Kent yelled.

  “Lose the guns and untie him.” Olive demanded.

  They adhered to the gun demand, but nobody was too eager to untie Nathan. And that wick was rapidly disappearing.

  “Come on, girl, put that out!” Jenkins screamed.

  “Untie him.”

  Jenkins quickly untied Nathan. Olive moistened two fingertips and extinguished what was left of the wick, which wasn’t much.

  “Your mother’s not here.” Nathan said as he massaged his wrists.

  “Where is she?” Olive demanded.

  Nathan regarded Jenkins for an answer.

  “I don’t know. And that’s the truth, man, I swear.”

  Nathan and Olive found Kent, who was stealing glances at his discarded gun. Not talking.

  Nathan lit a cigarette. And just as he took his first drag, FTZZZZZ! The wick spontaneously reignited, lighting Olive up like a psychotic circus exhibit, flares hissing red flames in every direction. She panicked, hopping around, flapping her arms furiously in an attempt to extinguish the belt.

  “That’s not dynamite, they’re flares!” Kent yelled as he reached for his gun.

  Nathan hit him hard but Kent somehow miraculously managed to maintain his feet, dazed, blinking furiously. Nathan hit Jenkins next, popping a tooth and snapping his jaw. Jenkins was unconscious before hitting the floor. Nathan spun and hit Kent a second time, and this time, Kent collapsed very awkwardly – like a puppet whose strings had just been severed. And all of this happened in less than three seconds.

  Nathan found Olive and tore off the flare belt, tossing it aside, smothering her, rolling with her along the ground to help extinguish her burning clothes. And when it was over, he found himself on top of her, eye to eye.

  “I think I just crapped my pants.” Nathan whispered.

  “Tell me about it. This could’ve gone down really bad.”

  Nathan rose, regarding Kent, then Jenkins, then Kent. He settled on Jenkins and began removing Jenkins’ pants.

  “What’re you doing?” Olive asked, perplexed.

  “I need a change of clothes.”

  “What? You mean you really…?”

  “Turn around. Give me some privacy.”

  She looked away, fighting not to chuckle.

  “Oh yeah… whew!” Olive exhaled, smelling it now, stealing a peek at him over her shoulder.

  “Do you mind?” Nathan protested as he wiped his nether regions with Jenkins’ shirt, shielding himself behind the table and a hazy column of smoke.

  “Sorry.” Olive apologized, snapping her glance away, fighting to wipe the grin from her face that just refused to leave. A grown man crapping his pants – that was funny. “When was the last time you went in your pants? How old were you?”

  “I don’t know. Eight, nine.”

  “What happened?”

  “Couldn’t hold it.”

  “I know that. Why couldn’t you hold it, what was going on?”

  “I was trying to make it home to watch the Dynamic Duo escape from being dangled over a vat of boiling acid that The Joker had rigged up.”

  “You got beat up that day?” Olive asked, her smirk diminishing at the thought.

  “I got beat up most days back then. Let’s get out of here before we choke to death. Here. This is for you.”

  Olive spun to find Nathan donning a fresh pair of slacks and offering her one of two guns he’d gathered. She was about to take it, but he decided to give her the other gun instead.

  “Or maybe you should take this one.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Easier to handle. I’ve already seen the way you shoot.”

  Nathan poked his head out the door. Clear.

  “How’re we going to find my mother?”

  “Let’s focus on getting out of here first.”

  A forklift dumped empty crates alongside others in an outdoor area before disappearing back into a building. Nathan and Olive emerged from inside one of the crates and made their way to a fenced area enclosing parked trucks. An alarm sounded seconds later. Obviously, the smoke had permeated the building enough to alert security and Kent and Jenkins had by now certainly been found.

  Nathan and Olive eased into a truck. Nathan started banging the ignition mechanism with the butt end of his gun, as security scrambled to seal the perimeter, deploying at several locations around them.

  “What’re you doing?” Olive asked.

  “Breaking the ignition switch.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can try to hotwire this thing.”

  “You’re using a loaded gun – that could accidentally go off – to break an ignition switch?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  Olive flipped the driver’s side visor down, dumping a set of keys onto Nathan’s lap.

  “Yeah, this can work.” Nathan reasoned. “Put your seatbelt on.”

  Olive did, and once she did, he brought the truck to life and floored it, exploding through a fence, alerting security. They scrambled into vehicles of their own.

  It was a bumpy ride.

  “Thanks.” Nathan said, offering that single word up in a very heartfelt tone.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I take it you brought a plane?”

  “The good one this time. And it’s not up on a jack either. Unlike you, I know how to land safely.”

  RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT.

  “You want to pick it up a bit?” Olive asked, adrenaline increasing, but firmly under control.

  “Hang on.”

  The truck went airborne, coming down hard on a plateau, Olive’s crop duster suddenly coming into view. Nathan maneuvered the truck into a pebble-spitting, dust-clouding halt. They exited, bolting for the aircraft as security vehicles emerged over the crest into view.

  Olive dove into the pilot’s seat.

  “Move over.” Nathan demanded.

  “I don’t think so. I’ve already seen the way you fly.”

  With no time to argue, Nathan lunged into the copilot’s seat as Olive brought the plane to life, lurching forward, gathering speed.

  A scouting bullet arrived, followed by more of the cavalry but Olive managed to get the craft airborne easily, disappearing over the horizon.

  The crop duster was now safely on the ground at Waltona’s farm. Nathan and Olive exited, or more accurately, Olive exited, Nathan spilled out, landing hard. He wasn’t looking too well as he gathered his feet, pale, hunched over as he vomited, trying to calm his breat
hing.

  “What’s going on? Are you all right?” Olive asked, alarmed.

  “I’ll be fine soon.”

  “Are you sure? You look terrible.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing? Look at you, you’re all red, sweating as if you’ve been trapped in a sauna for hours. You’ve also been shaking uncontrollably and now you’re vomiting. That’s not nothing.”

  “Go jump into a closet and change out of those burned clothes. Meet me back at your car. And don’t take long, it’s not safe here.” Nathan said as he straightened, tucking the weapon he’d taken from Kent and Jenkins into the waistband of his pants.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Go.”

  “Okay… but what’s the plan when I get back?”

  “We’re going to make them come to us.”

  “How?”

  “Just get changed, you’re wasting time.”

  Olive disappeared into the house. Nathan sauntered around, drifting into the barn, taking in the spectacle of the theatrical stage and assorted costumes and props as he continued to draw even breaths in an attempt to calm his amaxophobia symptoms. By the time he turned to exit, Alphonse was standing at the entrance, his weapon drawn.

  “This was a very stupid place to come.” Alphonse snarled.

  “I was hoping it might slide just this once.”

  Alphonse noticed the gun Nathan had tucked into his waistband.

  “Thumb and forefinger only. Take it by the handle and drop it. Then step away. Do it slow.”

  Nathan complied.

  “I’ll deal with the girl in a minute, but first I’m going to invite myself over.” Alphonse announced, unexpectedly tucking his own firearm away. “Everyone claims you’re some sort of badass. I don’t see it.” he added.

  Nathan tried to find a cigarette but had no time. Alphonse approached too quickly, lunging viciously at him. Nathan evaded the charge and crunched Alphonse hard, catching him cleanly. Alphonse easily remained on his feet, not even buckling a little bit.

  “Is that the best you’ve got, sweet thing?” Alphonse asked menacingly through a wide grin.

  For the first time, a real expression of concern descended across Nathan’s face. He just hit Alphonse with one of his best shots and it had little effect.

  Alphonse lunged again, this time grabbing Nathan, tossing him like a rag doll.

  What followed next, quite frankly, was ugly to watch. Alphonse basically beat the hell out of Nathan, bloodying him badly. By the time it was over, Nathan was laid out on the ground, battered and completely defeated, Alphonse standing over him.

  “You’re nothing.” Alphonse declared. He wanted to kill Nathan, but not just yet. As instructed, he’d bring him in alive. Before diverting his attention to Olive, he searched the premises for some sort of heavy blunt instrument, settling on a sledgehammer. He’d break Nathan’s legs and leave him there, helpless, until he returned. But a moment before he managed to attempt his initial swing, Olive’s Gremlin came screaming into the barn, full throttle, accelerator pedal floored. Alphonse had no time to react.

  The Gremlin swept the big man the full length of the barn, continuing right through the rear wall and disappearing.

  Nathan propped himself up against the stage, noticing a twisted cigarette in his shirt pocket as he settled. What the hell… He hooked it into his mouth and lit it.

  Olive reversed the Gremlin back into the barn and stopped, turning off her engine, manually cranking down her window.

  “My God, what’s happening to me? I just killed a man.”

  “Thanks again.”

  Olive regarded him for the first time and cringed.

  “I think I’d better get you to a hospital.”

  “No. No hospitals. Just need to rest a while.”

  “Your nose is laying flat against your face.”

  Nathan finger-inspected his face, cracking his nose back into place.

  “Am I better?”

  It was Olive’s turn to vomit. She threw open her door and spewed because of the disgusting display, eventually gathering herself and helping Nathan to his feet.

  “Come on.”

  “I can drive.” Nathan insisted.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you can.” Olive replied as she eased him into the passenger seat. Thankfully, for his sake, he passed out.

  Two black eyes, a large bandage over his nose, cuts and bruises just about everywhere else, Nathan exited a county hospital, moving rather gingerly, Olive by his side.

  “What do broken ribs feel like?” Olive asked.

  “Lucky I had that bowel movement. Wouldn’t want to go through that sort of effort right now. Are there any movies out right now that you’d like to see?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Movies. In theaters.”

  “JPEG might be good.”

  “JPEG?”

  “Yeah.”

  “JPEG. As in a compressed image file?”

  “It’s a romantic comedy about an overweight couple who meet online after posting airbrushed photos of themselves as skinny people. His name is Jay, her name is Peg. They fall hard for each other and realize they need to whip themselves into shape before actually meeting face to face. Of course, they can’t shed the weight so they send surrogates who end up hating each other. It sounds hilarious.”

  “Where’s it playing?”

  “I don’t know. Think I saw a marquee over on Dawson Street the other day, why?”

  “Google what time the first evening showing starts.”

  “We’re not going to a movie.”

  “That’s correct, it’ll just be you. Find out what time the first showing is. After dark.”

  Olive threw him a crooked glance.

  “Just do it.” Nathan said.

  Olive consulted her smart phone. Then…

  “Eight fifteen.”

  “Google Sonanfield Reed, find their phone number and dial it. Tell whomever answers that Dr. Nathan Cribbs would like to speak to Mr. Colin Ford.”

  Colin punched a button on his office phone.

  “You filthy piece of scum. You maggot. You maimed my son. You paralyzed him from the neck down.”

  “Please hold for Dr. Nathan Cribbs.” Olive responded, cupping her hand over her phone, conveying to Nathan… “He’s pissed”. Nathan took the phone.

  “Sorry for misleading you about the whereabouts of those items you asked about.” Nathan offered as his greeting.

  “You maimed my son.”

  “Look, I’m prepared to live up to our deal. Are you?”

  “You’re dead. I’m going to commit the rest of my life to hunting you down. To mount your head as my trophy.”

  “Okay then.”

  Nathan hung up. Olive’s eyebrows fashioned into question marks. He shushed her before he had a reason to shush her and told her to play his receptionist once again when the phone rang. He was certain Colin would call back – because he had to. Colin had just reacted as a grieving parent, not as the calculating businessman that he was.

  Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Olive’s phone chirped.

  “Dr. Nathan Cribbs’ office, how can I direct your call?”

  “Put him on.” Colin’s voice said, brittle.

  Nathan took the phone.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “Do I have your word this ends if I say yes?”

  “You have my word.” Nathan lied.

  “How do we do this, then?”

  “There’s a movie theater on Dawson Street. Buy two tickets to the eight fifteen p.m. showing of JPEG tonight. You and the woman only. Bring the money.”

  “I have a function to attend tonight.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t make you sit through the entire thing.”

  Nathan hung up and handed Olive her phone back.

  “Money? What money?” Olive asked.

  “I’ll explain on the way. Give me your car keys.”

  “You’re
not driving my car.”

  “Look, I don’t want to get into the whole rigmarole of having to explain why I have this thing about being chauffeured around, I just do. You saw what happened in your plane. Give me your keys.”

  “Look at you, you can barely walk. Plus my car is my geriatric baby from the seventies, over forty years old. She has plenty of subtleties about her too, a lot of nuances. Nobody drives her except me so back off, buddy boy.”

  Nathan snatched the keys out of Olive’s hand.

  Nathan was driving the geriatric Gremlin and Olive wasn’t happy about it.

  “Thanks for letting me drive.”

  “Letting you?”

  “Thanks for allowing me to indulge in this psychosis thing of mine.”

  “Bet your psychosis would vanish if I were a man. Old pricks like you always feel like they have to drive women around.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Whatever. Quit riding the clutch.”

  “I’m not riding the clutch.”

  “I know the sound my engine makes at cruising speed. This is not it.”

  “Back off.”

  “Okay, pull over.”

  Nathan shook his head, ignoring her.

  “Pull over!” Olive demanded as she took the steering wheel, cranking it hard, sending the Gremlin into a supermarket parking lot where it slammed into a parked van. Brady’s parked van – and he was loading groceries at the time.

  Brady looked up, his bewilderment turning into real fear when he saw Olive emerge from the passenger seat of her car.

  “I think I owe you a payment!” Olive snarled, moving for him menacingly.

  Brady panicked, dropping a grocery bag, peeling off like a man fleeing a charging rabid dog.

  Olive cracked a smile, watching him nearly trip over himself as he quickly disappeared. She let the air out of one of his tires before finally hopping back into her Gremlin – where Nathan just stared at her for a moment before raising the topic that was on his mind.