Brutal Business: Book Three in the Mad Mick Series

by Franklin Horton

  They headed for the front door of a chain restaurant of the upscale casual variety. The men had been on guard initially but the place was dead. They hadn’t seen a soul or heard anything. The parking lot was relatively clear of trash, and there weren’t many broken windows. It was like an early Sunday morning in the old world, the quiet hours before the stores opened and the customers flooded in.

  “You ever eat at one of these joints?” Mundo asked.

  “On military pay?” Lawdog snorted. “You gotta be kidding.”

  “No shit,” Mundo said. He reached the door first and extended his hand. He tugged on the handle of the front door, not surprised to find it locked. Mundo missed the one thing, the subtle rattle that caught Lawdog’s attention.

  Lawdog flattened his face against the glass door and looked down. He took a hard step back, then shoved Mundo to the side, out of the way of the door. He swung toward his men, waving an arm at them. “Take cover,” he hissed.

  He-Man, Wolfie, and Jawbone got the message and flattened themselves against the wide stone columns that supported the awning along the sidewalk.

  “What is it?” Mundo demanded.

  Lawdog gave him a shitty expression and gestured with his hand for Mundo to drop the volume.

  “What is it?” Mundo repeated at a slightly lower volume.

  “The door is chained from the inside. There could be people in there.”

  “Wolfie, He-Man—you guys circle around. Find the back door and keep an eye on it. I’m going to see if I can flush’em out,” Mundo said.

  The pair took off running, the sound of their boots echoing off the hard planes of the buildings.

  “So you apparently got a plan?” Lawdog asked.

  “I do,” Mundo replied.

  “And you are confident enough of this plan that you don’t feel a need to at least run it by me?”

  “I got this.”

  Lawdog glanced at him doubtfully. “There’s no ‘I’ in team.”

  The snide comment made Mundo snicker.

  “In position, Mundo,” came a voice from the radio.

  “What’s your plan?” Lawdog asked.

  “Watch and learn, Junior,” Mundo replied. “Watch and learn.” Mundo let his rifle dangle from the sling and took a few steps to where a heavy steel garbage can sat. He rocked it to the side, got a hand under it, and picked it up over his head, rushed toward the storefront, and launched the can through the plate glass window with a grunt of effort.

  Lawdog shielded his face with a forearm but it was unnecessary. The tempered glass shattered into a rain of tiny glass pellets and the garbage can rolled noisily across the restaurant’s tile floor.

  Mundo grinned at his buddy. “Impressed?”

  Lawdog rolled his eyes. “You call that a plan? Any idiot could have done that.”

  Mundo tapped his forehead. “Strategy, my man. Notice all that noise it made?”

  “Yeah, how could I miss it?”

  There was a gunshot, then another, from the back of the restaurant. It had to be their guys. They could hear it both through the broken out window and echoing off the various buildings in the complex.

  Droopy’s deep voice came across the radio. “You all good?” His team must have heard the shots.

  Mundo raised his radio with a grin. “I think we’re good, Droopy. Wolfie? He-Man? You guys good?”

  “We good,” He-Man replied. “We’ve detained three females. One male down. They came out the back door of the restaurant.”

  “Damn, you ahead of us. We ain’t found nobody yet. Droopy out.”

  Mundo nodded at Lawdog. “You hear that! Told you I had a plan. Drove those assholes out the back door and into our trap. Flushed them right out.”

  “Whatever,” Lawdog said. He stepped through the window, the shards of glass grinding beneath his boots.

  Mundo followed behind him. Jawbone brought up the rear, facing backward and watching for any signs of movement. Lawdog headed straight for the back door. They could hear shouted commands and sobbing in the distance.

  “Jawbone, make sure the rest of this place is clear,” Mundo said. “Check everywhere.” He jogged toward the back door, trying to catch up with Lawdog, while Jawbone raised his rifle and started a methodical search of the interior of the dim restaurant.

  Mundo reached the back door, paused, then eased out with his rifle high. Three young women were on the ground, sobbing and hugging each other. A dead man of about the same age lay sprawled in the grass, the back of his white shirt saturated with blood. His eyes were open and his scalp bleeding, the second round apparently having caught him in the head.

  “Y’all did good,” Lawdog said to the men who’d captured the prisoners.

  One of the women, more angry and in control than the other two, lit into Wolfie. “Why the fuck did you have to do that? We don’t have guns. We weren’t going to hurt anyone. We were trying to get away!”

  “If we wanted to let you get away, we would have,” Mundo said. “We needed to speak to you a moment.”

  “Really?” the woman challenged. “About what?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Lawdog said. “Now shut the hell up. We ain’t here to answer your questions.”

  The woman launched into a string of obscenities and insults. She cursed Lawdog and his companions back to their earliest ancestors.

  “Get me some fucking lightbulbs,” Mundo said, gesturing at He-Man.

  Apparently, knowing just what kind of bulbs Mundo wanted, He-Man slipped in the back door and went inside the restaurant.

  Mundo raised his radio. “Jawbone? I sent He-Man in there after something. Please don’t shoot him.”

  “Roger that,” Jawbone replied.

  He-Man jogged back out the door in a few minutes with two packs of regular incandescent bulbs in his hand. The entire time he’d been gone, the woman continued her diatribe, vacillating between a demand for answers and berating the men. Mundo and Lawdog let her go on, giving each other a weary glance. They’d been down this road before. They’d been called a lot of things in a lot of different languages and they didn’t care anymore. It didn’t bother them in the least.

  Mundo took the bulbs and handed his rifle off to Lawdog. He approached the vocal woman and stood in front of her until she quit yelling, her curiosity getting the best of her.

  “What?” she hissed.

  Mundo lunged at her, shoving her over backward on the ground. Despite her best efforts to prevent it, he was soon sitting on her chest, pinning her to the ground. She heaved and tossed but couldn’t get him off of her.

  “Get! Off!” she demanded.

  Mundo removed a delicate glass bulb from the package. He held it up over his head and mugged to his men. “I just had an idea.”

  They laughed.

  “Dumbass,” Lawdog chuckled.

  Mundo gave the woman a cold stare. “Open up.”

  “What?” she growled. “What are you going to do?”

  Mundo pressed the bulb against her lips. She tried to twist her face away but he laid a gloved hand on her forehead and held her steady. “You better open the fuck up.”

  Her anger was replaced by fear as he pushed the bulb harder. She felt the smooth surface grind against her teeth “It’s gonna break,” she hissed.

  “Damn right it is. You better open up.”

  She relented, seeing that she had no choice here, that the bulb was ready to shatter under the pressure of his insistent pushing. If it did break, her mouth would be sliced to shreds, her lips and gums mangled forever. Her eyes filled with tears and she opened her mouth wide. Mundo shoved the bulb inside. She gagged and choked, her neck spasming as she fought to breathe around it.

  “Breathe through your nose,” he told her. “Don’t try to spit it out. We gonna leave it right there.”

  Mundo yanked a roll of duct tape from a dump pouch on the back of his web gear. He made two passes around the woman’s head, taping the bulb firmly inside her mouth. He enjo
yed the terror in her eyes. There was not a flicker of compassion, of sympathy, anywhere within the soulless shell of his body. He was an animal with his prey pinned beneath him.

  “I’m going to cuff you,” he warned. Her terrified eyes were glued to his. He had her full attention. “You better not try nothing. That bulb is pressing down on your tongue so you’re not going to be able to scream or yell, but you better not try to get away either. If you show any signs of not sticking to the program, you know what happens?”

  Petrified now, she had no reaction.

  “That’s a question. I asked you if you know what happens?” he repeated.

  She shook her head.

  In a lightning fast gesture, Mundo punched his fist into the cupped palm of the other hand. The sudden, violent gesture startled all three women. The two who were not gagged cried out in fear, uncertain of what was about to take place. Mundo leaned close to the woman beneath him. He hovered over her face with a predatory indifference. He blew his vile breath in her face. He was a cat with a mouse, a chicken with a bug. She was an object devoid of humanity and personhood to him.

  “You do anything to piss me off,” he warned, “and I’ll punch you right in the face. What you think that’s going to do to that bulb? What you think that bulb gonna do to your face? I’ll tell you what because I’ve seen it before. It’s gonna shatter into several large chunks of razor-sharp glass. It’s going to slice up your tongue and those pretty pink cheeks. Your mouth is going to fill with blood and, I ain’t gonna lie, you’re probably going to swallow some of that glass. The rest you can probably figure out. They ain’t no surgery to fix shit like that anymore. You’re probably going to die a slow and miserable death.”

  “Isn’t that what’s going to happen anyway?” one of the other women asked. “What difference does it make?”

  Mundo turned to the speaker but it was Lawdog who answered her. “No. You cooperate and you might live to see another day. We’ll decide when we’re done.”

  “Done with what?” the other woman asked.

  Lawdog shrugged. “With whatever.”

  “Whatever?” the same woman repeated.

  “Whatever the fuck we want,” Mundo said loudly.

  He got to his feet and flipped the startled woman over onto her stomach. He wrestled her hands behind her and used flexcuffs to secure her. She started to offer mute protest, to resist, but her friends warned her to settle down, reminding her of the punishment. When Mundo was done, he stood up and regarded the other two women.

  “Glad to see y’all got a little common sense. Now, am I going to have to fight you two the same way or y’all gonna cooperate?”

  The women looked at each other, began sobbing anew, and conceded. Mundo held two bulbs over his head and grinned maniacally. “Boys, I got two ideas now!”

  The men chuckled, not at the joke because they’d heard it before, but at Mundo’s enthusiasm. The dude needed Ritalin or something. He never wound down. He was always running full volume.

  Mundo extended the bulbs before him, one in each hand. He nodded at the women, encouraging them, and they each reached toward him. He placed a bulb in each of their outstretched hands, then watched as the women opened their mouths, slipping the bulbs inside. Their reactions were the same as the first ladies. They choked and gagged as their bodies fought to accept the condition.

  Mundo grinned with satisfaction and got out his tape. “I thank you ladies for your cooperation.”

  5

  They were out of Chillicothe by dark, just as they’d been directed, their loud green trucks pulling two new enclosed trailers. One was packed full of salvage and the other, a livestock trailer, was packed with human cargo. With the shorter days of winter it was full dark by the time they rolled up to the farm supply.

  “Three little pigs knocking at your door,” Mundo said into his radio as they neared the fenced lot.

  “Acknowledged,” Thomas replied. “Welcome home.”

  One of the sentry team rolled the chain-link gate open and the three trucks eased through, the trailers clattering behind them. They drove around back and parked. As soon as Lawdog popped open the door of his truck they were hit with the mouth-watering aroma of grilling meat.

  “Daaaammmmmnnnnn!” Mundo sang. “Didn’t know how hungry I was until I smelled that.”

  Hearing the comment, Buddha Boy grinned. “Oh, I might have outdone myself tonight. I set up a smoker this morning and we’ve got ribs, pulled pork, and brisket. We’ve got potatoes, canned corn, macaroni and cheese, and even dessert.”

  “Dessert?” Droopy echoed, dropping out of the bed of one of the trucks. “What kind of dessert?” He was a big man, fond of his food.

  Buddha Boy gestured at an array of Dutch ovens sitting on a row of cinderblocks. “I’ve got a dump cake, brownies, and a blackberry cobbler.”

  “I’d kill a man for a brownie,” Droopy muttered.

  “Ain’t necessary,” Thomas said, emerging out of the dark. “You get one with no strings attached.”

  “Well, if it buys me any points, I did kill a few men today.” Droopy grinned.

  Thomas smiled. “Cost of doing business.”

  “Not this time. I just wanted to see if I could hit them. They was a long way off but by God, I did it.”

  Thomas patted him on the shoulder. “Then we’ll consider it public relations. Part of the fear campaign. Shit like that makes people want to hide instead of fight back. They get afraid to show themselves on the street.”

  “When we eating?” Droopy asked, unable to peel his eyes off the heaping, foil-covered bounty piled atop a stainless steel grate.

  “We was just waiting on you,” Buddha Boy said. “We can eat anytime.”

  “That all you think about, Droopy?” Mundo asked, patting Droopy on the belly.

  Droopy lashed out at Mundo, trying to trap his arm, but the whip-thin Mundo was too fast. “Fat and sluggish,” Mundo said. “Too slow.”

  “I ain’t fat. That’s my body armor,” Droopy said. “You don’t cut that shit out, I’m going to hurt you.”

  “Save it for outsiders,” Thomas said, the venom in his voice making the men fall silent. His word was law and the men knew not to challenge it. They could pose questions as part of strategizing and mission planning but they had better do it in a manner that was not accusing or confrontational. If Thomas grew offended, someone died an ugly, screaming death. “Now tell me how the mission went.”

  The men deferred to Lawdog.

  “Good run, T. Got those two trailers like we talked about. Found lots of shit we needed but no big haul of any one thing. Scored some flour and sugar, a few canned things, and some medical supplies. Found some good sleeping bags for anyone who needs to trade up and some expensive long underwear. Cases of it.”

  “Any party favors?” Thomas asked.

  Lawdog gestured at the livestock trailer. “Found seven women over a few different stops. Killed their men and took their shit. What’s not to like about that? Check them out.”

  Thomas approached the trailer and pulled a light from his pocket. He was wearing a headlamp already but the flashlight had a more powerful directional beam. He played the light between the slats of the trailer and saw terrified faces twisting away from the blinding light.

  “That’s a good haul.” In truth, Thomas cared nothing about the women. He was old school leadership and would have preferred the men be more disciplined about their vices. He’d managed to keep them from drinking by allowing them to get high whenever they wanted, but he expected there’d be major dissent if he tried to take women off the menu. Experience had shown him that this was the only thing that kept the men from fighting between themselves.

  “You want us to untie them?” Droopy asked. “Take those bulbs out of their mouths?”

  Thomas smiled at Mundo. “That’s your handiwork, isn’t it? You bulb these women?”

  Mundo nodded.

  Thomas shook his head. “Nah, let’s leave them like that. I d
on’t want them moaning and carrying on while I’m trying to eat.”

  6

  For nearly two weeks The Bond picked at the outskirts of Chillicothe like a pack of hyenas terrorizing gazelles. They killed for entertainment and kidnapped for sport. They plundered and looted, bringing everything they found back to the farm supply. It was like living on a remote outpost in a war zone, with daily patrols and relaxation behind fences at night. Experience told them that staying outside the town would prevent them from being pursued by the residents of Chillicothe. No one would venture out this far to find them. Despite the toll that The Bond was taking on the locals, they’d had surprisingly little trouble with them, other than taking some fire when raiding farms for fuel. They fully understood there would be a point where they would have to move on. People could only take so much. Word would spread and people would organize against them. They wanted to be gone by the time it reached that point.

  They ate well during their stay, killing what livestock they found and removing prime cuts with no worry about what they wasted. Over those two weeks they left thousands of pounds of unwanted beef and pork for crows, coyotes, and rats. In the farm supply they found a scoped .22 rifle and a large supply of ammunition. It became a sport for the men to pick away at the carrion-eaters who appeared at the fragrant garbage pile downwind of camp. It was there they disposed of the livestock carcasses and the unfortunate people who died as their guests.

  They kept the trucks topped off with fuel as they dug deeper into the bulk fuel receipts. With each new source of fuel, a rural family was decimated, their home looted and burned. On one of their raids, they brought back a flat screen television and a DVD player. They started having a movie each night, complete with popcorn topped with powdered butter. They ran the TV off the quiet little Honda generator and everyone, with the exception of those on duty, piled into the main room. They watched whatever stupid movies they scraped up in their looting runs, cheering, cursing, and making fun of the selections.