Phobias

by Ryan Horvath

  Miedo silently moved to the end of the wood crate. He could feel Holly’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care about her right now. The metal braces appeared to be holding, but Miedo’s imagination fed him an image of the kid’s feet bursting through. He couldn’t imagine where Vale was getting his strength after being shot. Not only that, the kid said his fear was gone. If that was the case, then what use was he to Miedo anymore?

  As the kid continued to kick and shout Miedo’s given name alternated with profanity, Miedo spied his pistol on a nearby table. He went to it and picked it up, turning his back to the crates. When his adventure in Hillsboro began, Miedo had eight bullets in his magazine, not counting the hollow point he brought specifically for the Wild Card. He shot Calvin and Holly once each, so that still left six bullets in his gun. He returned to the thrashing crate. Miedo was so focused on the wooden crate, his gun, and Vale, that he didn’t realize he missed something.

  Miedo needed to kill Vale now. There was no doubt about it. Having no fears meant Calvin Vale no longer had a purpose to serve; he could no longer provide any entertainment for him. But how to kill him was a bit of a larger issue. Miedo didn’t think the bullets in this relatively small gun would penetrate the maple and make it into anything on the other side. Sure, they might make some contact with Calvin’s body, but not necessarily lethal contact. And Miedo could easily use the last of his bullets trying to put Calvin Vale down for good. The top piece of the crate was in place with heavy hinges on one side and a thick padlock-secured latch on the other. Miedo could unlock the lock and throw open the lid, and he might have enough time to get a bullet into the kid’s heart or between his eyes, but a lot could happen in the few seconds it would take him to line up a kill shot. The kid was probably akin to a coiled-up cobra in a basket waiting to strike.

  But then Miedo realized it was much brighter, obviously, outside the crate than inside and, if the lid was opened, the kid would likely be momentarily blinded and unsure which direction to strike in. That would give Miedo a precious advantage.

  Sweat slipped off Miedo’s brow while the kid continued to throw his tantrum from inside the crate. Beneath the bandage, Miedo’s wrist itched a little and he cursed silently in his mind.

  Miedo slipped the key for the padlock out of his pocket and crept over to its side of the crate. Though right-handed, he was a much better shot with his left, so he held the pistol at the ready while he put the key in the lock as quietly as he could. In spite of his efforts to be silent, the kicking inside the crate stopped as if Vale could hear what Miedo was doing. Miedo turned the key and the lock popped open. It wasn’t loud, but it was surely loud enough for the kid to hear it.

  As Miedo steadied himself and readied his pistol, he reached for the lock.

  Something connected with the back of his head. Miedo tried to turn around to see what it was, but it was impossible for him to keep to his feet.

  He went down.

  His gun fired once as it slid away from his grasp.

  ~*~0~0~*~

  It had to have been Calvin’s declaration. He said it loud enough for them both to hear and it was clear from his reaction, that Andrews didn’t like the fact that Calvin had overcome his phobias.

  If he can do it Holly thought. So can I. She eyed the twitching arachnid above her and did exactly what Andrews told her to do. Calm down Holly said to herself. Relax. In spite of the pain in her shoulder, she worked on slowing her breathing and tried to calm her racing heart while Andrews shifted all of his attention away from her.

  “You’re just a damn spider,” she whispered as softly as she could. She eyed the creature in its web and, instead of the usual revulsion, she began to feel a sense of curiosity. The arachnid, while apparently lethal, was actually quite a marvel of creation. Holly’s area of expertise was human anatomy, and she suddenly found the spider’s anatomy to be equally intriguing. Mere seconds later, her perspiration stopped and her breath and heartbeat returned to normal. When it did, the spider stopped moving.

  Holly stole a glance at the crate Calvin was in and saw it was locked with a large padlock. She looked at the edges of her crate.

  No padlock.

  There didn’t appear to be anything keeping her transparent crate closed.

  Andrews had been relying on her fear of the spider to either keep her in place or to kill her.

  Andrews suddenly turned his back on her to grab something off a nearby table, and Holly knew she had to act right then. There was no waiting, thinking about it, or turning back.

  But she was going to have to pass by the spider. Her face was likely to come within an inch or two of it.

  It doesn’t matter Holly’s mind said. It’s just a spider. It’s not even interested in you anymore and you’re the better, stronger, unafraid Holly now.

  “Damn straight,” Holly said inaudibly as she pressed her hands up onto the lid of her own crate. It moved silently and the spider didn’t move with it. Its web was apparently only secured to the sides of the crate. Holly moved as fast as she could and her face did indeed pass within an inch of the spider. In the past, being this close to a multi-legged creature would have seemed to last an eternity but, this time, it glided by as fast as it really happened though she had time to count each of the spider’s eight tiny eyes and to notice that they appeared to be watching her.

  Holly slid as quietly as she could the rest of the way out of her crate, being careful with her shoulder so she wouldn’t inadvertently cry out. She ducked out of sight just in time to see Andrews turn back around. Had he turned a fraction of a second earlier, he would have seen Holly’s escape. And, when she realized he wasn’t cursing that she was no longer in her crate, she knew he must be so focused on what Calvin was doing that he didn’t even notice her slip out.

  Holly watched Andrews, unsure of what he was going to do, but then she figured it out. If Calvin wasn’t afraid anymore, and it sure sounded from his resilience that he wasn’t, then Andrews had no more use for him and was going to kill him. So Holly started looking around. She knew she didn’t have much time. Once Andrews got Calvin’s crate open, Calvin was going to be at the disadvantage.

  She spied something. It wasn’t much, but it was something and she grabbed it. A flashlight. It was thick plastic, but it felt like there were batteries in it so it had some extra weight to it. The problem was going to be swinging it with her left hand. She wouldn’t get far with her right given the bullet hole in her shoulder.

  Holly held the flashlight hard in her hand and sneaked in behind Andrews. She desperately hoped she was being quiet enough and that he wouldn’t turn to face her at the last moment.

  He didn’t.

  Holly stepped right up behind him and, just as he popped open the lock, she struck. She hit him as hard as she could with her left hand and she could tell it wasn’t enough to brain or kill him but, as he tried to turn around and face her, she knew she hit him hard enough to knock him out. He fell flat on his back and his gun hit the ground. It fired once, causing Holly to shriek, and then it slid away.

  Holly let out a loud breath in satisfaction and then heard, “Holly? Is that you?”

  She laughed and said, “Of course it’s me, Cal. I’m going to get you outta there.” She slid the lock off and undid the clasp, and Calvin nearly knocked her over as he threw open the lid.

  “Fuck!” he gasped, as the light stung his eyes.

  Holly threw her arms around him and started laughing in spite of the pain it caused her. She felt a little blood ooze from her bullet hole but she didn’t care. The feel of the much larger Calvin in her arms was enough to overpower that.

  “Where is he?” Calvin said as she helped him out of the crate. She saw his eyes darting everywhere. “I’m gonna fucking tear him apart.”

  “He’s right th…,” Holly said turning, pointing, and then cutting herself off.

  Andrews wasn’t where he fell when Holly struck him.

  “Shit!” Holly spat.

  ~~41~~

/>   The gunmetal glinted in the dim light. Chad’s clothes were nearly drenched with sweat. His mouth was arid with dehydration. If he had anything in his bladder, he would have been sitting in it. His heart thundered in his chest and ears as he stared down the barrels of the weapons he hated and feared more than anything.

  And why again are you so affected by this? a part of his mind asked. It was the drunk part of his mind; a part that he hadn’t heard in a while.

  Chad knew the answer to this question. He’d told it to himself hundreds of times. “Because of that night. The rapists. My partner. The kid,” he answered aloud.

  That was a long time ago, Chad the drunk voice said. Eons ago. You let the drunkenness go, Chad. Don’t you think you could let the fear go? I mean, look at yourself. You’re sitting there with four high-powered shotguns pointed right at you. And instead of going stark-raving mad, you’re having a nice conversation with yourself. Guns aren’t so scary when there is no one behind them, don’t you think?

  “You might be right,” Chad returned. He felt his heart slow ever so slightly.

  Just then he heard what sounded like a gunshot in the not-too-far distance. Chad yelped and jumped a little in his seat. He didn’t know where the shot came from, but he desperately hoped it didn’t come in contact with Holly or Calvin. Chad lifted a hand and started to move it to his face to wipe away a drop of sweat that was stinging his eye.

  Stop, you fool! the drunk voice said just as Chad felt the line around his wrist tense. He’d nearly ended it for himself then and there. The sweat continued its irritation and another drop joined it.

  A sense that time was running out came over Chad. If he didn’t act and act soon, then none of them would make it out of this alive. He couldn’t sit in the chair any longer waiting to shoot himself. If there was gunfire nearby, then Holly and Calvin likely needed assistance.

  Chad eyed each of the guns in the line in front of him and knew what he had to do. He closed his eyes and did something he hadn’t done since he was a teenager. He made an honest, bona-fide, cross-the-heart-and-hope-to-die wish. It was simple and it didn’t ask for much. All he wished for was to make it through what he was about to do next.

  Chad steeled himself. He shifted and shimmied his rear end to the edge of the seat of the chair. He cautiously moved his wrists nearer to the guns until he felt no tension on the fishing lines. He scooted his ankles forward as well, though he couldn’t get them much closer than they already were. He took a deep breath and held it; savoring it, and knowing it might very well be his last.

  Chad let the breath out and said, “Here we go.” He moved.

  He scooted the rest of the way off the chair.

  He felt the fishing line bite into his wrists.

  Shotgun fire roared, filling the small room and drowning out the sound of his heart.

  Chad was sure he’d been hit but, miraculously, he had made it to the floor and out of range of the shotguns without sustaining injury.

  He started to cry and then to laugh. His laughter was barely audible over the ringing in his ears from the gunfire.

  While he did that, he worked on the lines around his limbs. The fishing line was a heavy gauge that Chad couldn’t break or cut without a tool, but he managed to work the loops off his wrists and then his ankles. When he was free, he stood up triumphantly.

  He looked at the four weapons. The two that had been attached to his legs were the ones that didn’t fire. Chad slowly moved toward them. He reached the nearer and put a hand out just above the long barrel.

  You can do it the drunk voice said. The fear is gone. You can take the gun.

  Chad’s hand trembled over the gunmetal. If he tried to pick up the gun with that hand, it would likely fire just to show him he wasn’t ready. He sucked in another deep breath and then let it out, working to steady his hand. He hadn’t touched a gun in over a decade but his mind continued to tell him he could touch this one.

  Chad lowered his hand to the cool metal of the weapon.

  And he touched it.

  It felt forbidden and familiar; foreign and friendly; fatal and fantastic. But there was one feeling it didn’t bring to Chad. Fear. His hoplophobia was gone.

  Chad yanked the gun free from its mount and pulled it close to him. He easily remembered the image of Walt’s skull coming off and the memory stung him.

  “Let’s just hope we get to do the same to you, Andrews,” Chad said as he moved to the room’s only door.

  ~*~0~0~*~

  “Where the fuck did he go?” Calvin fumed. “I was gonna tear his fucking head off.”

  “I hit him with that,” Holly said, and pointed to the flashlight. “I thought he was out but…”

  “Well he couldn’t have gotten far,” Calvin fired. “We’ll find him.” He spotted Andrews’s fallen pistol and picked it up. He winced as he got back upright. He’d used his good leg to do the kicking, but that didn’t mean his injured leg wasn’t strained. The wound was starting to burn and Calvin guessed that if he didn’t do something about it soon, it was likely going to end up infected.

  “We need to get to a doctor,” Holly countered. “Find Chad and Walt. Regroup.” Andrews said he killed Walt, but Holly didn’t want to believe that.

  “No,” Calvin said firmly. “This ends now. Haven’t you had enough?”

  “This asshole is slicker than a snake. If he got away that fast, he’s long gone by now,” Holly returned. “Let’s find the…”

  “No,” Calvin said again. “Andrews is still here. He wants… no… needs this to be over as much as we do.”

  “But we don’t even know where here is,” Holly said, and shrugged. The shrug caused renewed pain in her shoulder and she gasped.

  “We’ve still gotta be in Hillsboro. Or close to it anyway. The air smells the same.” Calvin looked around. “This place obviously hasn’t seen much use in a while. Can you think of any places like that in town?”

  Just then, one of the three doors in the room crashed inward. Calvin spun and raised his pistol.

  “Chad!” Holly exclaimed. Happiness washed over her sweat-soaked face but then her eyes went wide when she saw what he had in his arms. “You’re holding a gun! You’re not… not… afraid anymore?”

  “Trying not to think too much about it, but yeah. Maybe. One moment at a time,” Chad said.

  “Just like us, old man,” Calvin said. “Even though I’ve been shot, I haven’t felt this good in years. It’s like my head is clear of some fog.”

  “And I made it past that spider,” Holly proudly admitted and pointed to the arachnid. “Say, speaking of which…” She looked around the space until she found something. It was a cylindrical specimen jar; perfect for the spider, and may have even been what Andrews used to transport the creature. She moved back to the clear crate she’d been held in and eyed the eight-legged creature. No fearful sensation came over her. She uncapped the jar and with a swiftness that surprised even her, she collected the arachnid and held it up to her eye. It looked back at her. It too was equally calm.

  “What the hell do you want with that?” Calvin asked.

  “Andrews said he did something to it. Something genetic. It needs to be studied and definitely can’t be let loose on the environment. There’s no telling what kind of impact it could have.” She paused and a devious smile crossed her lips. “Aside from that, I might just want to throw this thing on Andrews. See what its bite does.”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me,” Chad agreed.

  “So now we just gotta find Walt,” Calvin said.

  “Walt’s dead,” Chad said without hesitation. “Andrews took him out without any warning. I was eating a fucking sandwich.” He pointed to the dried red stains on himself. “This is his blood.”

  Calvin studied Chad. He inhaled loudly and, instead of bursting out in a rant, he softly said, “All the more reason to get this motherfucker.” He reiterated a previous statement, “This ends now.”

  ~*~0~0~*~

  A
fter Miedo encountered and slaughtered the pirates in the Cayman Islands, he checked out their boat. On it, he found a most intriguing item. He didn’t know or care how the pirates had acquired it, but now it was his.

  The unfortunate thing was that Miedo knew nothing about how to put such a thing to use. He knew he could have sold it to any number of countries that had been torn apart by Mitchell’s worm, but he decided he’d like to educate himself and learn how the device worked. It wasn’t easy at first. The internet was in ruins and Miedo had to rely on the limited number of books he could gain access to in order to obtain information about the device and how to use it. And books weren’t too informative on this topic. So, Miedo slowly learned about it until the internet was up and running again. Then he was able to learn more.

  It was a smaller version of its parent models, but Miedo still learned it would be sufficient to put just about any small city out of existence in the blink of an eye.

  And that small city was going to be Hillsboro.

  From the pirate’s boat, Miedo obtained a small nuclear weapon. Sure, there wasn’t much to Hillsboro except the three phobics who Miedo was ready to be done with and the friends they had made there, but the fallout from the device was sure to keep the American Southwest an undesirable place to live for a long time.

  Miedo ran his hand across the device and the digital countdown it displayed. He smiled and rocked back and forth. His head hurt where the bitch hit him, but she hadn’t hit him hard enough to do any real damage. He left the bomb and stepped out of the structure, which was an old feed storage house on the edge of Hillsboro. He walked over to a nearby truck.

  As he felt in his pockets for keys, he heard a familiar click in his ear. It was the sound of his pistol being cocked.

  “End of the line, asshole,” a voice hissed from beside him.

  ~~42~~

  “End of the line, asshole,” Calvin said as he stepped up behind his former doctor and raised the pistol to the man’s temple.