Squall

by Sean Costello

  Sanj put his hand inside his coat and Ronnie dropped the keys into the slush at his feet, hopping down to scoot past him and put the redneck between herself and Sanj.

  The redneck said, “Who’s the raghead?”

  Ronnie said, “Carwash guy,” and took the creep’s arm, hustling him toward the bar. Watching it happen, the first redneck said, “Hey, man, the lady was talking to me,” and Ronnie said, “Don’t worry, boys, there’s plenty to go around.”

  Then she was in the parking area, fifty feet and a tight row of vehicles between her and Sanj, the sick fuck bending over now to pick up the keys. At the entrance to the bar she stopped to watch Sanj park the Ram on the far side of the convenience store and lock it with the remote, then get into the Mercedes and drive it to the front of the store to pick up Sumit. She watched him slide over to the passenger side as Sumit came out of the store to get behind the wheel.

  The redneck asked her what she was drinking and Ronnie ignored him long enough to see the Mercedes accelerate up the road leading in to the cottage. Then she said, “Whatever you’re buyin’, big fella,” and followed him into the bar.

  * * *

  Sumit said, “You let her go?”

  “Cagey bitch gave me the slip.”

  Smiling, Sumit said, “Be a shame to put a hole in that, anyway. Get her hot, the girl tastes like apricots.” He said, “What do we tell Ed?”

  “We never saw her.”

  “How much further?”

  Sanj switched on the dome light to check the map and said, “About an hour.”

  Sumit said, “Fucking shit detail,” and turned the CD player back on, resuming the Indian music.

  “Enough of that shit,” Sanj said. “Find me some rock and roll before I die.”

  20

  Dale came out of his nod to the urgent sound of his name—“Dale? Dale!—and once again had to muddle through a narcotic haze to bring fully to mind the jackpot he’d got himself into. Cozy in the thermal bag down in the tub, he said, “What’s up?”

  “I thought I heard something on the roof of the plane. Can you see anything?”

  Dale said, “Gimme a sec,” and poked his head through the gap in the debris. He looked up at the plane and at first could see nothing. He was about to say as much when he heard something shift up there, far enough around the curve of the fuselage that he couldn’t see what it was. A soft padding sound...

  Then he was staring into the bright amber eyes of a cougar, the cat edging forward to peer down at him over the flank of the plane.

  Dale said, “There’s a fucking cougar right behind you,” and got Trang’s gun off the dinner tray.

  Tom said, “Are you serious?”

  “As a train wreck.”

  “How’s it look?”

  “Hungry.”

  No, I mean how does it look? Curious? Angry? Afraid?”

  Dale said, “Hungry,” and aimed the gun at the big cat’s head. “I’m gonna shoot him.”

  “Jesus, no,” Tom said. “Don’t even look at him. If you shoot and miss, we’re dead.”

  “Yeah, and if I shoot and don’t miss, he’s fucking dead.”

  “Are you a good shot?”

  Dale looked at his trembling hand. “Never shot a gun in my life.” He said, “Oh, shit, he’s coming right at you,” and aimed again at the sleek wildcat, the animal shifting its body into full view now.

  Dale pulled the trigger and nothing happened. Not even a click. He looked at the gun, then up at the cougar as it leaned over to sniff the edge of the broken window in Tom’s door, then stuck its head inside.

  * * *

  Tom looked up into the animal’s vivid face, less than a foot from his own now. Dale had been right: it looked hungry, winter lean and slavering.

  Tom leaned away from it as much as he could, which wasn’t very far, and now the big cat snarled, baring a set of savage yellow incisors as long as Tom’s pinkie and twice as thick, the vapor of it’s breath reeking of rot and death.

  Taking its time, the cat bit experimentally into the shoulder of Tom’s coat, catching only the fabric. It tugged and Tom said, “Son of a—”

  * * *

  Dale found the safety and flipped it off, aimed the gun at the cougar again and squeezed the trigger.

  Click!

  What the fuck?

  The cat had its head all the way in the window now and Dale thought of the hundreds of action movies he’d seen. He thought, Rack the fucking slide and dragged himself down into the tub again, using his free hand to chamber a round. Then he was back up through the hole, watching the cougar brace it’s feet to pull at something up there. He heard Tom say, “Son of a—”aimed and pulled the trigger with his eyes closed, the gun kicking in his hand as he discharged five or six rounds, the sharp reports popping his ears. When he opened his eyes the cougar was gone. Like magic.

  Tom said, “Did you get him?” and stuck his finger through a bullet hole in the door of the plane. “’Cause you damned near got me.”

  Dale said, “Holy fuck he’s gone. Did you see that bastard?”

  “See him. I’ve got his teeth marks in my coat.”

  “Jesus Christ, Tommy, what a day.”

  “You got that right,” Tom said. “What next?”

  And both men were caught in that crazed laughter again.

  21

  Sanj pointed through the windscreen at a reflective green road sign. “Cottage Road,” he said. “Turn right up here.”

  Sumit slowed to make the turn into the unplowed side road, shifting the Mercedes into four-wheel drive.

  Sanj said, “Three more miles of this shit and we’re there.”

  Turning the radio down, Sumit said, “So last night I’m having drinks at the Tryst, this woman, she’s got to be fifty—but classy, well put together—bitch comes out of nowhere and tells me her name is Crystal and if I buy her a Mai Tai she’ll give me a night I’ll never forget.”

  Sanj said, “More like a disease you’ll never forget.”

  “Didn’t strike me as the type. Looking at her, I’m thinking newly divorced or maybe she caught her old man boning the help. Anyway, it’s late, I’ve got a glow on, but she’s almost as old as Maa so I tell her no, but in a nice way, polite. She gives me a pouty look and catches me scoping that fine big ass as she’s walking away. Throws a little smile over her shoulder and keeps on going.”

  Sanj said, “Wait, you’re actually considering it at this point?”

  “Fuck, no, man. I’m just playing with her. I’ve never slept with a woman older than twenty-five.”

  “What about that Japanese beauty last summer, remember? Broadzilla? You’re late, Ed’s waiting outside, I walk in and there you are on the bed with this skank’s got to be forty, has more hair on her ass than you.”

  “Fucking Saki, man, fucks you up. Where I met her it was dark.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, little brother.”

  “You take that video off your phone like I told you?”

  “Make me late again you can watch it on YouTube.”

  “Assrag.”

  “So’d you do the MILF or not?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “Because you want to.”

  Grinning, Sumit said, “So a half hour goes by, I’m paying my tab and here she comes again, stoked to the gills now, and tells me if I drive her home there’s a mother-daughter tag team in it for me. Says it’s all arranged.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “Her apartment’s just a couple blocks away so I drive her, we go inside, she flips on the light and shouts up the stairs, ‘Hey, Mom, you still up?’”

  Sanj laughed and said, “Please tell me you didn’t go for it...” but then the road dead-ended and both men fell mute.

  Sumit brought the Mercedes around and switched on the high beams, fixing the light on the lake-facing side of the cottage, Sumit saying, “Is that a fucking plane?”

  22

  Dale said, “
You hear that?”

  Tom said, “I bet that’s our rescue. See? I told you we’d be all right.”

  “One vehicle?” Dale said, getting a bad feeling. “Weren’t you talking about helicopters and shit?”

  “Maybe they sent in the local police. What difference does it make?”

  Tom started to rustle around in the cockpit and Dale said, “Shh. Listen...”

  The slam of a car door now, followed by another, then a voice that made Dale’s skin crawl, Sumit the psychopath saying, “It is a fucking plane.”

  Lowering his voice, Dale said to Tom, “Don’t say a word. Don’t even breathe. These guys are stone killers and they’re here for me.”

  Moving fast, Dale grabbed the gun off the dinner tray and squirmed down into the tub with it, then popped back up for the rest of his stuff, getting it all out sight.

  He heard Tom say, “What’s going on?” and scrunched himself down as far as he could into the foot of the tub, just managing to squirm around onto his elbows and knees under the fuselage, keeping the gun aimed at the hole in the debris. He said, “Play dead, okay? If they come anywhere near you, just play dead.”

  “But—”

  “Just do it.”

  23

  Mandy snugged Steve’s covers across his chest, the little guy lying flat on his back in bed now, so worried about his dad he forgot his teddy on the chair, so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. His party had been a wash, the poor kid sitting on Mandy’s lap in front of the radio until his guests finally gave up and went home. He hadn’t opened a single gift, telling her he’d do it when his dad got home because it was his birthday, too. It wasn’t until she promised to wake him as soon as she heard anything that he’d finally agreed to come up to bed.

  She got his teddy off the chair and tucked it under his arm, then sat next to him on the bed, offering one last reassurance as she stroked his hair. “Try not to worry, sweetie,” she told him. “Your daddy’s a good pilot. I’m sure he just landed to get out of the storm and the weather’s messing up the radio. It’s happened before.”

  “The rescue team is looking for him?”

  “They sure are,” Mandy said, and kissed him on the tip of his turned-up nose. “I already talked to them, remember? They said they’d have news for us soon.” She kissed him again. “Try to sleep now, okay? When you wake up, this will all be over.”

  But the boy was already fast asleep.

  As Mandy stood, she got a fresh jab of pain low in her abdomen and her fingers went to it instinctively, pressing as if to extinguish it, and after a moment it was gone.

  In the kitchen she poured herself a mug of stale coffee, then returned to the radio in front of the picture window, as black now as the night that pressed against it.

  24

  Sanj said, “Look at this mess.”

  They stood staring at the wreckage in the wash of the GL’s high beams, the aircraft’s tail section jutting out through the window, the severed wings and skis lying twisted against the foot of the building.

  “Unreal,” Sumit said. “You’re sure this is the right place?”

  “According to the map.”

  “Doesn’t look like the kind of thing you walk away from,” Sumit said. “Maybe we got lucky and it clipped Ed’s asshole brother for us.”

  “Give Ed his bullet back.”

  “Lights are still on in there,” Sumit said, drawing his weapon. “Shall we?”

  Sanj pulled his silenced 9mm and followed Sumit to the front door. Sumit turned the knob and the door swung open on silent hinges. They took up positions on either side of the frame for a long moment, listening, then Sumit stepped inside, bringing his gun to bear. Sanj moved in behind him, stepping around him now to get the lay of the land.

  The place was small, the lit foyer leading into a hallway that ran parallel to the side of the building the plane had come through, the hallway itself opening onto what looked like a kitchenette on the left and a sitting area on the right. There was a single closed door halfway down on the right, the lights on in there, a film of snow and plaster dust on the floor in front of it, blown there through the crack under the door.

  Sanj pointed at the door and Sumit nodded. Sumit stepped past him and kicked the door open, snapping it off its top hinge then shifting fast out of the opening to press his back to the adjacent wall. Sanj took a quick look inside, scanning for targets, then relaxed, holstering his weapon. “Shitter,” he said. “It’s clear.”

  Sumit followed him into the bathroom, both men pausing to take in the scene: the room trashed, the front third of the plane’s fuselage resting across the rims of the tub, snow blowing in from the window ten feet away on the other side of the demolished wall. No signs of life.

  Sumit said, “Shouldn’t we check the rest of the place?”

  “Forget it,” Sanj said. “He’s long gone. The bitch must’ve made us and told him to hide in the store.”

  “I checked the store. No way he was in there.”

  “Then he spotted us and ducked out the back,” Sanj said. “Either way, he’s in the wind.” He stepped up onto the edge of the tub, straddling it now to look into the cockpit. “There’s a guy in here,” he said.

  “Is he dead?”

  “Who am I, House? He looks dead. Blood on his face.”

  “Check his pulse.”

  Sanj had to yank hard on the door to get it halfway open, the door binding against the bent frame, then he reached in and felt the guy’s neck. The guy moaned and Sanj flinched back, saying, “Holy shit, he’s alive,” then said to the guy in the plane, “Hey, man, are you okay?”

  * * *

  Tom gripped his emergency flare gun, holding it out of sight between the seats, but he wasn’t sure if he should use it. All he had to go on was what Dale had said about these guys, and if Dale was wrong he’d be shooting at one of his rescuers with a live flare. And if Dale was right...well, there were two of them, and while bringing a flare gun to a gun fight might be better than bringing a knife, it was still no hell against seasoned killers.

  He let the flare gun slip quietly to the cockpit floor and pretended to come to, bringing his head around to see a young East Indian guy leaning over him with an expression of concern on his face, the guy smelling of cologne, no hint of threat about him. Still, the fear in Dale’s voice had been very real and, either way, Tom believed he had a plan that could defuse the situation and get them both out of here alive.

  He acted dazed for a moment, like he didn’t know where he was, then drew a panicked breath and the guy touched his shoulder, saying, “Hey, friend, calm down. Your plane crashed but I think you’re okay.”

  “I must’ve blacked out,” Tom said. “Is this your place? I’ve been yelling for help for a while now. Thought I was going to die up here.”

  Assessing Tom’s situation, the guy said, “Shit, man, you’re really wedged in there.” He leaned in and tried to shift the stud off Tom’s thighs—giving Tom a close-up view of the handgun holstered under his arm—but couldn’t get it to budge.

  Now the guy turned to face the room, saying, “Get up here and give me a hand,” and Tom felt the fuselage shift as a second East Indian popped up to find his footing on the rims of the tub.

  Tom was a lapsed Catholic, but he prayed that neither of these guys fell through the shelf of debris that hid Dale from view. If that happened, it would be the end of them both.

  As the men tried to free him, Tom said, “Sorry about your place. I’m fully insured.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” the first guy said. “Let’s just get you out of there.”

  With one guy working from outside the aircraft, gripping the butt end of the stud where it came through the fuselage, and the other reefing on the section across Tom’s thighs, the board started to move, wood screeching against metal until Tom was able to shimmy his legs out from under and bunch himself into a squat in his seat, feeling like he might black out now for real.

  The first guy b
acked out of the doorway and lost his balance, shifting his foot back to brace himself as the second guy reached out to steady him. The first guy said, “Shit,” and Tom saw his bracing foot plow through the overlapping layers of debris, sinking to the ankle before the second guy had him. Tom thought of grabbing the flare gun again, but now both men were laughing about it, the first one leaning on the other to pull his foot free.

  Then they were helping Tom down from the wreckage, the second guy looking at him like he was a celebrity, saying to his partner, “We should take this guy to the track with us, man. He is one lucky son of a bitch.”

  Tom let the men take his weight until his feet were flat on the bathroom floor, then he leaned against a section of undamaged wall, waiting for the circulation to return to his legs and flush out the numbness.

  The first guy stood right in front of Tom now, getting in his space, not laughing anymore. “So you didn’t see anyone else?” he said.

  “Not a soul,” Tom said, favoring his right leg, pretending he was hurt. He said, “Would you guys mind calling me an ambulance? I think my leg might be broken.”

  The first guy said, “Sumit, give me a hand with this guy.” Then to Tom: “Don’t worry. We’ll take you into the city.”

  That was when Dale popped out of his hole and started shooting.

  * * *

  His first two rounds slammed into Sumit, killing him instantly. He fired next at Sanj, seeing Tom in his peripheral vision diving for cover, but the shots went over Sanj’s head as the man crouched to draw his weapon. Dale followed him down, but Trang’s gun was empty now, the slide locked open, gun smoke wisping from the muzzle.