Cornered

by Brandon Massey

  “Then let’s hurry up and do this.”

  Somewhere outside the room, a door opened. Footsteps clicked across a hallway.

  They tensed. Corey sidled away from the door, prepared to launch an ambush. Simone edged away, too.

  The footsteps stopped outside the room. “Hey, you guys in there?”

  It was Todd.

  Glancing at Simone, Corey took a couple of steps away and lifted the handcuffs off the floor. He tinkled them loudly for effect. “Listen, we’re cuffed, man. Why don’t you come in here and join us?”

  “No time for chitchat.” Todd chuckled. “Got places to go and things to do, partner. I’m here to wrap things up and cash in my chips.”

  “Cash in your chips?” Corey said.

  “Don’t you remember our partnership agreement?” Todd said. “In the event of the death of one of the partners, full ownership of the company automatically goes to the surviving owner.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Corey shouted.

  “Settling up, my man,” Todd said. “With everybody, including our good buddy, Leon. I realized that he’s the perfect fall guy. A fugitive on the run kidnaps an old friend’s family for ransom-”

  “Todd, please!” Simone shouted.

  “-and the whole plan apparently goes terribly wrong,” Todd continued. “The incinerated remains of Corey Webb, his loving wife, and Leon Sharpe are discovered in a housing subdivision burned to the ground in the south suburbs. . poor Sharpe, must have tried to torch the evidence of what he’d done and got trapped himself in a fire that blazed out of control.”

  The mention of fire raised the hairs at the nape of Corey’s neck. He pounded his fists on the door. “Let us out, damn it!”

  Todd paused. “Hmm, now that’s interesting. You’re supposed to be cuffed. What’re you, like, Houdini? You keep escaping from tight places.”

  “Damn you, Todd, open the door!” Simone screamed.

  “Anyway,” Todd said, “as for our deaf little Webb girl. . who knows where she is. . but if I find her around here, I know certain people who’ll pay good coin for a pretty little orphaned girl.”

  Shouting, Corey kicked the door repeatedly. The wood shuddered, splintered.

  “How much you wanna bet you’ll roast long before you bust out of there?” Todd asked.

  Todd’s voice sounded distant; he was leaving.

  A second later, Corey smelled, distinctly, the pungent odor of gasoline. His heart trip hammered.

  “Todd!” he shouted.

  “Personally, I think I’ve got the high hand on this one,” Todd said, voice fainter. “Think I’m going all in. .”

  A door slammed.

  And Corey heard the crackle of flames.

  72

  To make Shaggy Man happy, Jada ate the can of peas while he stood over her and watched.

  The sweet, big black dog that had found her in the woods had worked its way through the knot of other dogs around her and come to her side, sticking its wet snout in her face, sniffing at the can and licking her chin. She fed the dog some of the peas, and it gulped them without chewing and begged for more.

  I have to eat, too, doggy, she said, and swallowed a forkful of the peas. They were cold, and she actually didn’t like peas as all-spinach was her favorite vegetable-but Shaggy Man grinned.

  If it makes him happy to see me eat, then I’ll eat, she thought.

  She didn’t want to see him angry again. He did not seem to be a scary, bad man like the Giant or Mr. Leon-a bad man wouldn’t have so many nice dogs in his house-but the fact that he was so disturbed gave her the feeling that he might hurt her without really meaning to hurt her, and in a way, that was almost as frightening as everything Giant had done.

  Between her and the dog at her side, they finished the entire can of peas. She put the fork on the table. A yawn escaped her.

  She went to cover her mouth as she yawned, but Shaggy Man suddenly seemed upset again. He started speaking.

  She thought he said, Bedtime.

  She nodded eagerly, and said it, too: Bedtime. Yes, bedtime. I want to go to bed.

  She really was tired, too, “absolutely exhausted” as Daddy would say sometimes when he came home from work, but what she was thinking was that if Shaggy Man took her to a bedroom, she would be alone, and alone, she could finally use the cell phone.

  He picked her up from the chair, as if she were an infant. He carried her through the house, though the sniffing, licking, probing pack of dogs. As he walked down a hallway lined with stacks of phone books, he stepped through several piles of doggy doo-doo, like he didn’t even see them.

  Gross, she thought, holding her nose. Mom would have a conniption fit if she could ever see this man’s house.

  He pushed open a door and brought her into a dark, musty-smelling room. He switched on a lantern on the dresser.

  It was a room for a baby. There was an old looking crib covered in dust and cobwebs, and the walls had faded pink wallpaper with leaping white unicorns. An old box of Huggies stood beside the dresser.

  It didn’t look as if any of the doggies had been in there, though. There was no poop on the carpet and no pee-pee stains.

  He placed her inside the crib, cobwebs wrapping around her arms and neck.

  I’m not a baby! she wanted to say to him, but she knew he would not understand. So she kept quiet. She curled up her legs to try to fit inside on the dusty bedding, the phone pressing against her hip.

  The dogs tried to come inside the room, but he shooed them away, waving his arms frantically. They waited outside in the hallway, dozens of sets of eyes gleaming curiously.

  Shaggy Man dug a diaper out of the box of Huggies. He stared at it, and then looked at her. He was frowning, totally confused.

  He thinks I wear diapers? Jeez, she wanted to scream.

  But she took the diaper from him, anyway. He smiled, and his lips moved.

  Good night, he said.

  Good night, she said, and waved.

  He backed out of the room and fastened the door behind him.

  Finally, she was alone.

  She counted to fifty. When he did not come back, she felt safe digging out the cell phone.

  Hands shaking, she pressed the power button. As the screen brightened, she hoped the phone didn’t make any beeping noises that Shaggy Man might hear.

  Her parents had taught her to call 911 in case of an emergency, but she wanted to call Daddy first. She had decided that he was probably at home, wondering what had happened to her and Mom.

  She punched in the number for their house. Out of habit, she put the phone against her ear.

  She would not be able to know if Daddy answered the phone, but they had voice mail, and that would pick up if he didn’t. She counted off ten seconds, and then she started talking:

  Daddy, it’s me, Jada, Mom and I have been locked up all day with bad people, Mr. Leon and a giant, they’re partners, Daddy, and we need help, Daddy, we need you, I got away and I’m at a house on a lake, and there are dogs everywhere in here, and I hope you can find me, I’m with a disturbed man in his house on the lake, and I need you. .

  Jada looked up, her words wilting in her throat.

  Shaggy Man was standing in the doorway, and he looked furious.

  73

  Soon after the crackle of flames came foul black smoke. Serpents of it slithered underneath the door and inside the bedroom, writhed around their legs.

  Corey coughed. He knew they had only a few minutes before smoke inhalation would kill them.

  He turned to Simone, saw the same grim knowledge reflected in her eyes. Without needing to exchange a word, he boosted her on his back, her arms hooked in his.

  She weighed maybe a hundred and thirty pounds. Not heavy. But in his battered condition, it was like having a refrigerator strapped to his back.

  He clenched his teeth, ignored the pain.

  She slammed both feet against the door, the impact rocking him forward. He heard the
door rattle-but it held.

  She hit it again. Wham.

  Wood cracked, the best sound he’d ever heard in his life.

  Wham.

  More breaking.

  On his back, Simone was panting, her frantic breaths roaring in his ears. Tendrils of smoke curled around them. Corey held his breath, lungs feeling as if they would implode.

  Wham!

  He heard wood thud to the floor on the other side of the door. The barricade.

  The wafting smoke was blacking out the room, making his eyes water.

  “Come on, damn it!” Simone screamed. She attacked the door with a fusillade of savage blows: Wham-wham-whamwham-wham!

  Finally, the door fell away and banged against a wall. Simone shrieked in triumph.

  They unlocked their arms, and staggered through the doorway into the hall.

  Hungry flames crawled up the walls and across the floor, most of them ahead in the foyer, but they were quickly spreading throughout the house. Fresh paint sizzled, bubbled, popped. Clouds of black smoke billowed in the air. The tremendous heat cooked the sweat on Corey’s face.

  He put his shirt to his mouth and grabbed Simone’s hand. They shambled down the hallway, keeping clear of the overlapping tongues of fire.

  The front door was like a blazing hoop in a circus, impassable.

  “Kitchen!” Simone shouted, and tugged him in the opposite direction.

  Smoke polluted the kitchen, snuffing out the lantern light. In the shifting veils, Corey glimpsed the cooler, the chair, duct tape, a stack of books, but no usable weapon. Damn.

  A sliding patio door led from the kitchen to the backyard. They flung it open, the door screeching on the tracks.

  The cool, damp air outside ballooned Corey’s aching lungs, tasted delicious.

  They staggered across the muddy yard and into the cul-de-sac. Bent over, they pulled in deep, replenishing breaths.

  In the house, fire lashed the sheets that covered the front windows. The acrid fumes had begun to taint the air outdoors.

  “Gotta call 911,” Simone said, raspy-voiced. “It’s stopped raining. . fire might spread.”

  “My phone’s in the car.”

  He led the way. Todd’s Mercedes coupe was parked at the edge of the cul-de-sac. The car was empty, but the doors were locked.

  “He’s gone to find Leon,” Corey said, remembering Todd’s taunts.

  Simone shook her head. “I don’t care about Leon-I only care about our baby.”

  The Oldsmobile was parked where he had left it at the corner. Simone didn’t ask any questions about the vehicle when she saw him open the door. They were past the point of explanations.

  His BlackBerry lay on the passenger seat underneath his jacket, the battery and handheld separated. He plugged in the battery.

  The other cell phone lay inside, but he didn’t want to so much as touch the damn thing.

  Arms clasped over her chest, Simone turned around and around, calling for their daughter in a pain-wracked voice.

  Corey called 911 to report the fire. He gave the approximate address, and ended the call without answering any more of the dispatcher’s questions.

  “Now let’s go,” Simone said. “We’ve gotta start looking.”

  “Hold on,” he said.

  The phone’s voice mail indicator stated that he had messages. Could have just been Falco harassing him, but he had to be sure. He punched in the code to access the mail box.

  One message was from Falco; he skipped over it.

  In the next, he heard Jada’s voice. She was shouting, voice raw with terror.

  “. . Daddy, and we need help, Daddy, we need you, I got away and I’m at a house on a lake, and there are dogs everywhere in here, and I hope you can find me, I’m with a disturbed man in his house on the lake, and I need you. . ”

  “She’s at the lake!” Corey said. “A house on the lake, there are dogs everywhere, a house on the lake, she said. There’s a lake here, here, in this subdivision.”

  Simone’s eyes were huge. “Where?”

  The boom of a shotgun echoed from behind them. It came from the woods behind the safe house.

  “There!” Corey said, and started running.

  74

  Leon heard the shotgun blast as he was picking his way through the woods with the flashlight, tracking the little deaf bitch. Buckshot took a big bite out of an oak not ten feet away from him, wood splinters arcing through the air.

  Automatically, he dipped to the ground. He doused his flashlight and drew his Glock nine.

  Who the fuck was shooting at him?

  It couldn’t be C-Note, even if he and Clair Huxtable somehow had broken free of the cuffs and gotten out of the bedroom, they didn’t have a shotgun.

  Couldn’t be Johnny Nabb, either, the law didn’t fire on you without first issuing a warning, and though some random, Negro-hating redneck might live in these boonies, that just didn’t feel right, either.

  What felt right was The Todder. Good ole Kenny Rogers.

  Leon’s lips curled. He had never really trusted that guy. Anyone who would make a major muscle move to force out his business partner couldn’t be trusted. Probably he was aiming to ex out Leon so he could keep all the currency for himself.

  “Greedy motherfucker,” Leon spat. Of course, he might have done the same thing if he were in Todd’s high-priced shoes, but still. It was the principle of the matter.

  Keeping low, he raced through the wet undergrowth, circling around, doing a flank maneuver.

  Hidden safely behind a tree, he rose and peeped the scene.

  There was The Todder all right. Revealed in a splash of moonlight, he wore a dark hooded jacket and gripped a shotgun, stalking through the forest like it was hunting season and Leon was the big game.

  “Son of a bitch,” Leon muttered. “Gonna take me out, do you know who I am, huh, do you know what I’ve done, bitch, think you can whack the artiste, ice me, huh?”

  The Todder was maybe thirty yards away, but he was looking in the wrong direction, a rank amateur, that’s what he was, didn’t he know Leon was the creme de la creme in this biz? You didn’t get to be a superstar on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Hoods List by being a schmuck.

  So Leon burst from cover and ran up on him, firing one round after another, gunfire echoing through the woods, the Glock’s recoil snapping through his wrist, and by the time The Todder turned, he’d already been shot two or three times. He went down like a boxer dropped with a right hook, wasn’t getting up for the count, call the fight, good night, folks.

  Leon took his time covering the rest of the distance between them. Swaggering like the Duke after smoking the bad guy at high noon.

  He felt electrified. Killing always gave him that crazy hyped feeling, a delicious experience better than blowing a nut deep inside a fine-ass woman with a Ziploc pussy.

  Giggling to himself, he came up on the Todder and shone the flashlight in his face. Blood pasted his black hair to his tanned forehead. But his eyes were open, and he was breathing in shallow, whistling breaths through a ruptured throat.

  When he saw Leon, fear rose in his baby blues.

  “You’re busted, disgusted, and shown why you can’t be trusted,” Leon said.

  Blood dribbled from the guy’s lips. He said something in a whispery gurgle. It sounded like fuck you.

  Leon smirked and lit a cigarette.

  “I think I’ll stand here and watch you expire, pilgrim,” Leon said. He took a drag on his Newport. “I wanna see the chi fade out of your eyes, and then I’ll rifle through your pockets, get your keys, and go to su casa and see how much dirty gambling loot you’ve got socked away in there, ’cause you’re gonna pay me, hombre, one way or another.”

  A roar from close behind made Leon drop his cigarette. It sounded like a bear, a tiger, something wild and inhuman and enraged.

  What the fuck. .

  Leon spun, groping for his gun.

  Eyes blazing, Corey exploded out of the dark
ness and pounced on him.

  75

  When Simone and Corey reached the forest, they agreed to split up. Corey had gone after Leon, angling in the direction of the gunfire.

  Simone went to find their daughter.

  She came out of the trees, to a surprisingly large lake. Lambent moonlight shimmered on the tranquil surface. A chorus of bullfrogs croaked and bellowed.

  On the other side of the banks, she saw the mobile home. It stood upon a grassy, tree-studded knoll, reached by a crumbling set of concrete steps. The trailer’s white paint was so faded, the tin roof so festooned with kudzu and overhanging branches, walls so buried within tall, dense grass, that it looked as if it might have sat there for decades and was slowly being sucked into the earth.

  A couple of the trailer’s windows were broken. But soft light glowed in one of the rooms.

  Her baby was inside that room. She could feel her.

  Hold on, baby, I’m coming.

  She raced around the muddy banks, heedless of the aches and pains that wracked her body. Loose stones tumbled away beneath her shoes as she pounded up the steps.

  She caught the smell before she reached the top of the staircase. The stink of garbage, feces, and urine. The mingled fumes hung heavy in the air.

  When she arrived at the top, she saw why.

  76

  Springing out of hiding with a battle cry, Corey swung a thick tree branch at Leon. It smacked solidly against his chest, and he flew backward off his feet with a surprised uuuhhhh, his pistol spinning away into the weeds.

  Lifting the wood to his shoulder, Corey bared his teeth in a savage grin. This man had jeopardized his family, his life, everything, and he wanted to kill him, wanted to split his skull open until his brains oozed out and the crazy light faded forever from his manic eyes.