On the Ropes addm-1

by Tom Schreck

  I got his number and dialed.

  “Hello,” it was a female voice. Probably his new live-in, Foon.

  “This is Duffy from the clinic. Is Clogger in?”

  “No, game night, he gone already.”

  “Isn’t it early?”

  “Clogger gone…” The language gap wasn’t going to make this very easy. I didn’t have the time to translate.

  “I know, thanks.”

  I hung up. I didn’t dare call Clogger for fear that his cell phone was rigged. What the fuck was I going to do? My mind raced, my body went cold, and I started to sweat.

  Holy fuckin’ shit.

  Holy fuckin’ shit.

  Holy fuckin’ shit.

  All right, the only thing left to do was to call the FBI and let them do what they had to do. I couldn’t let them blow Clogger out of the sky, but I couldn’t let a capacity-filled Yankee Stadium get blown away with some bullshit dirty nuke. I watched my fingers shake as I hit the keys.

  9-1-… You’re fuckin’ kidding me…

  The low battery light went on and then the phone went dark.

  Holy fuckin’ shit.

  All this and the Yanks were already down in the top of the first.

  With nothing else left to do to help Clogger, I decided to do something about Shony. I gave Al a few strokes and told him to be cool. I left the car turned on so he would be warm and so he could listen to the Blue Hawaii soundtrack. I had no idea what I was about to do. There was no activity going on outside the building for now, so it made it easy to approach. I crossed the street and ran down the right side of the building. The outside of the building was surrounded by heavy brush, and as I shimmied my way along the wall, branches and switches raked across my face. There was no light coming from this side of the building, but by cupping my hands around my eyes I could peer in the windows and make out a bit of the interior. These were windows to the small bedroom suites and each suite had a single bed, a padded wooden chair, a small bathroom, and an adjacent room with a child’s bed in it. I peered in each of the windows as I made my way down the length of the building, hoping to find something that would help. All the bedrooms were dark and looked uninhabited until I got to the last window.

  Pressing my face to the window, I could see the four girls were all sitting on the bed. Their hands were duct taped behind them, they had tape over their mouths, and they were all blindfolded. They sat side by side on the bed, and I was almost positive that the first one closest to the wall was Shony. The four of them twitched and rocked and, without being able to make a sound, still exuded the terror they were feeling.

  I went along the back side of the building, and about halfway down I could see bright lights coming through the windows and I could hear the sound of two or three voices. I approached the corner of the first window carefully and looked in. It was the multipurpose room-the one we weren’t allowed to see on our tour. Now I understood why.

  They were setting up cameras and lights at different angles and there was a king-size mattress in the center of a stark floor where I presumed the webcast would be staged. I didn’t recognize the three guys setting up the cameras and the lights. I looked at my watch and it was seven forty-five.

  I went back around the building, passing the bedroom where the girls were kept. I headed out to the front of the building and looked across the sidewalk to the parking lot. I heard a couple of voices, one male and one female, followed by the sound of car doors closing. The car started and I jumped back, pressing my back against the side of the building. I saw the van pull away from the halfway house with Bowerman and Tyrone in it.

  I walked around the front of the building back toward the parking lot. I guessed that the equipment was unloaded and there would be no reason for anyone to be coming out to the parking lot, except maybe for a smoke break. I figured they had just started, so it was unlikely they’d be taking a break soon. I tried to picture where the bedroom that the girls were in was in relation to this side of the building. I would have to go through a lobby, a small corridor, a dining room, and then another hallway to get to the bedroom. If they were all busy setting up, there was a chance they wouldn’t notice someone coming in. My one shot was to sprint in, get the door open, and rush the kids out. I sure couldn’t stand out here all night. Pretty soon there would be more people coming, and it would make any kind of rescue even harder.

  I went through the side door quietly with my back sliding against the wall. I got through the lobby, looked around carefully, and headed up the corridor. At the threshold to the dining room, I looked both ways and ran through the dining room to the threshold on the other side. Through that threshold I could see the door that led to the multipurpose room where the webcast was going to take place. To the right was the corridor to the bedrooms.

  I checked both ways and ran as fast as I could down the corridor to the last door on the right. I got to it and turned the knob, but it was locked. I slammed my shoulder as hard as I could into the door, but the jamb held. I slammed into it again and a small piece of the jamb broke away. I was all sweat and heartbeat when I threw myself into the door a third time. The jam splintered more, but not enough. I could hear the muffled sound of the girls screaming through their taped mouths when I heard another door close and footsteps up the corridor.

  “Fuckin’ asshole, you just don’t learn, do you?” It was Dunston and he had a bat in his hand.

  “You didn’t fuckin’ listen the last time,” he said. “Now you’re going to die. I just wish that ugly fuckin’ hound was here so I could kill him first in front of you so that was the last thing you ever saw.”

  Dunston walked down the hallway without rushing, holding the bat in two hands and flexing his arms. My mind raced, and I had no idea how to defend myself. I put my guard up, figuring taking a bat on the arms was better than taking it on the head. Dunston’s face contorted as he swung the bat at my head. I turned my body away, lifted my arm and tried to raise my shoulder muscle. The bat landed across all three areas but I still caught 50 percent of it on the left side of my head. A flash of light seared across my eyes and I wobbled into the other side of the wall.

  Dunston reared back and sent the bat into the ribs he bruised on his last visit. That made my whole diaphragm feel like it was caving in. I stumbled forward but somehow managed to keep my feet and moved up the corridor.

  Dunston kicked me in the ass, moving me up to the end of the corridor to the lobby before the multipurpose room.

  “I’m going to make this last,” Dunston said. “Why rush all the fun?” He swung the bat into my left thigh. The force moved me into the dining room and dropped me to one knee.

  “Not hard to see how you got the boxing record you got, asshole. You don’t even fight back.” Dunston punctuated it with another kick, this time to the other side of my ribs, pushing me out of the dining room and into the corridor. I could hear the sounds of the street and the occasional sound of a car passing, but it was at such a distance, a yell for help wouldn’t have done me any good.

  Dunston stepped over me dramatically and leaned on the threshold at the end of the corridor, resting the bat on his shoulder like he was on deck at Yankee Stadium. He had a big grin come to his face as he stood in front of me with his back to the door.

  “What the fuck do you care about a bunch of crack whores anyway?” he said, shaking his head. “I had the girls do your friend Walanda inside because she talked too much. Stupid whore blabberin’ about the ‘Webster.’ Didn’t even get the name right. Probably had no idea what a webmaster is. Then there’s all your park buddies-fags and bums. Duffy, you’re a fool,” he said.

  Dunston paced in front of me with the bat on his shoulder.

  “Why’d you want to ruin a good thing? Now you’re going to die, and for what? To save a bunch of crack whores?” Dunston shook his head in mock disbelief and gripped the bat and took a step toward me.

  I was trying to think how I could protect my head and stay alive, but I wasn’t sure
I had the strength. Dunston spit into his hands like a hitter and cocked the bat.

  That’s when I heard the barking.

  Looking up through Dunston’s legs I saw the blur of black, brown, and white, and I heard a growl that was not of this earth. It was Al and he was airborne, teeth bared and headed for Dunston.

  Before Dunston could react, Al had Dunston’s arm between his teeth and was working it like one of my sofa cushions. Dunston dropped the bat and Al scooped it up in his mouth and ran back out the side door. I was on my feet, the life was back in my veins, and the pain was on hold. Dunston stood five feet in front of me, and without a weapon in his hand he looked like an entirely different man.

  “Now you’re mine, motherfucker,” I said.

  I stepped toward Dunston and he threw a big right hand. It was probably the type of punch that made him legendary in bar fights or on the tough-guy bike circuit. It was hard and it would hurt, but it was way too wide and way too slow. I stepped in on it and buried a jab right on his nose. I felt it break under my knuckles and I heard Dunston let out a half moan, half whimper.

  The jab sent him into the wall where he tried to cover up. I dug a punch to his solar plexus that took the wind right out of him and brought his guard down. I came back up top and drilled a left cross into his already shattered nose. The speed of my punches and the wall behind him kept him up as he tried in vain to protect himself.

  I hit him again with the straight left and this time instinctively I added a right hook. With my left hand recoiling back to my chest and my lower body pivoting, I let go of my right hook and for the first time-the very first fuckin’ time-I felt the click in my hips that Smitty had been telling me about for fifteen years. It was a wonderful click.

  The hook landed just over his ear and it forced Dunston into the space between the wall and the threshold. He was still standing, wedged into the wall and trapped. It wasn’t a time for mercy and it wasn’t a time for justice, it was a time for something else entirely.

  Something inside of me released and I let go with a fury that transcended the physical. This piece of shit in front of me was evil, and I felt everything in me let go. With Walanda’s memory, the girls he and Tyrone were about to defile, the guys from the park, and enough of my own personal business all running through me, I beat Dunston with everything I had.

  I don’t know how many more hooks I threw to Dunston’s head. Blood gushed through his mouth and his nose was in three different bloody pieces of tissue across his face. Each shot forced more blood to come out of him like water comes out of a drowning victim. I wound up for one more hook when I heard the blast and a piercing flash of heat in my left shoulder. The force of it spun me off of Dunston and on to the ground.

  I had been shot in the shoulder.

  I rolled back around and saw Dunston’s limp body slide down the wall and a figure step out of the darkness of the dining room. Stepping into the light of the corridor I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  “Espidera, you asshole,” I said.

  37

  Espidera paced back and forth dramatically, holding the gun like a villain in Miami Vice.

  “Duff, I tried to send you a message,” he said. “When Bowerman called me in about your porn activity at work, I tried to give you a break. Duffy, don’t you know all your activity on the Internet can be traced? You’ve got to become computer literate, my man.”

  The door to the multipurpose room opened and out stepped Gabbibb. He was wearing his Derek Jeter Yankees jersey and flashing his big toothy smile as he walked over to stand next to Espidera.

  “Doofy, du are a stupid man.” He paused for a second and looked at Dunston. “Dees people are nothing. Dey are trash you care about.”

  He walked over to Dunston and put his fingers to his neck. He looked back at Espidera and shook his head.

  “He’s dead, Duff. You killed him. I guess the rap on you not being able to hit is gone,” Espidera said. “Too bad for you, though, because now I can kill you and walk.”

  “How do you figure that?” I said.

  “I had to shoot you to keep from killing poor Dunston here.”

  “You’re behind this whole thing, you scum. You’re the webmaster Walanda talked about. The whole ‘spider’ bullshit, that’s a play on your last name. You narcissistic fuck.”

  “Very good, Duff. Too bad you’re going to take that one to your grave.”

  “You won’t get away with this, you sick bastard.”

  “Oh, I will. There’s nothing that ties this to me. Dunston did the heavy work, Tyrone and the girls took care of Walanda and recruited the kids, and the crew is just hired help. Face it, Duff, I’m a pillar of the community.”

  “You’re a piece of shit.”

  “Maybe, Duff, but I’m not the loser you are. You lose in the ring, you lose at work, and you’re about to lose it all right here.”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  “LT, I got to go for an hour or so,” Gabbibb said. “I will be back for day show.” He walked past to the door and stopped. “You are a silly person, Doofy, you waste your time with trash.”

  “Fuck you, asshole,” I said.

  “DAT, DAT, DAT, DAT, shit… excuse me.” His little seizure deal faded as he headed out the door.

  I looked at Espidera, and I didn’t think he had any idea of what Gabbibb had in mind.

  “Espidera, don’t you know what he’s about to do?” I shouted.

  “What’s that, Duff?” Espidera did his best nonchalant bad guy routine.

  “He’s about to call Clogger on the cell phone. He’s placed a radioactive bomb on his plane and his call is going to set it off just as Clogger does his thing in front of a full Yankee Stadium. He’s going to kill thousands and destroy the Bronx for decades,” I said.

  Espidera laughed. “Duffy, I gotta hand it to you. Under stress you come up with some good ones. Too bad it’s going to be the last story you ever tell.”

  Espidera lit a cigarette, mostly for effect, and steadied his arm. Dying was going to be bad. Dying at Espidera’s hands was going to be worse. He was raising the gun to shoulder length with a big happy smile.

  And I heard the barking again.

  From the side door came Al, growling and barking and running as hard as he could, straight for Espidera. He went airborne, his trajectory headed for Espidera’s crotch, when Espidera fired straight at Al’s head. Al landed full force into Espidera’s balls but yelped and rolled over from the violent force of the gunshot.

  Al’s split-second distraction was enough. With just my right arm good, I gave all I had into my newfound hook. Twisting and torquing all the way from my ankles, I let the hook fly just as Espidera was swinging the revolver back around toward me. The gun went off the instant my fist crashed into the point of his chin. Espidera’s head whipped around and he went down hard. I’ve seen that look before, and he was out before he hit the ground. I always figured the asshole couldn’t take a punch.

  I saw no sight of Al. I feared the worst but I didn’t have time to deal with it. I took away Espidera’s gun and ran to the back bedroom. By now I had lost enough blood from the gunshot and the beating to feel woozy. It didn’t matter right now.

  I got to the back bedroom and slammed my body into it. I tried again and each time I hit my body into the door I had to keep myself from throwing up. Finally, the jamb splintered and the door flew open. The four girls had retreated as far as they could on the bed and pressed themselves against the wall. I could hear their muffled screams through the duct tape, and they struggled against the tape to somehow protect themselves. One of the girls stepped off the bed and fell hard to the floor. The other girls heard this and I saw them struggle even harder against the duct tape and heard their muffled screams even clearer.

  I went to Shony and undid her blindfold. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears and I could see her jaw muscles flex throughout her whole face as she screamed against the tape. I undid the blindfolds on the other three girls. Two of
them cried and screamed and the other fainted.

  “Listen to me,” I spoke as calmly as I could. “I’m here to take you away from this. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  The girls looked confused and only a little less terrified. The fainted girl stirred, opened her eyes, and looked up at me from the floor.

  “I’m going to take off the tape now, but it’s very important that you stay quiet. Do you understand?”

  They all nodded.

  I carefully undid the tape and took it off their mouths as gently as I could. The tears ran down their cheeks and they all threw their arms around me at once. It was a reflex more than an emotion. A reflex based on terror.

  I held all of them as tight as I could in a way that was as comforting as I knew how. Shony pulled back and looked up at me, confused.

  “Who are you?” she said through tears, her voice still trembling.

  “Walanda sent me.”

  “My stepmom? She was killed.”

  “The last thing she ever said to me was to get you.”

  “She was a crackhead.”

  “She was a whole lot more than a crackhead, Shony.”

  One of the girls interrupted.

  “Mister, can we go?”

  “You sure can,” I said. “Let’s get you guys out of here.”

  For a quick second, they were back to the teenage girls they should have been. A few squeals of joy and a few high-fives, and the four of them started racing to the side door. They ran about fifteen feet ahead of me toward the parking lot.

  Through the kids’ squeals, I heard some other voices. I tried to call out to the girls and I tried to run to catch up. It was too late; coming through the side door were Tyrone, Bowerman, Stephanie, Melissa, and Lori. Tyrone had grabbed Shony and held a knife to her throat. They let the other three girls run away.

  I pulled Espidera’s gun out from the back of my pants and pointed it at Tyrone.