by M. Garnet
Chapter Seven
I found out we were in a building attached to a very large Catholic Church. This church was generous. It was famous, so in this time of so many out of work and out of their homes, it was serving a great community purpose. Unfortunately, it was almost overwhelmed.
I helped out in the morning, then stayed around to help in the kitchen for the large numbers of homeless that would be served for the supper crowd. After that I settled down again to sleep. Then, one of the priests who ran the whole HELP Center offered me a job. It didn’t pay much, but it gave me a purpose. The kitchen area was a safe center where no one asked a lot of questions. The faces of those coming and going didn’t want to exchange a lot of information. They kept conversations down to the weather, or where to get handouts. There was information on clothes, free condoms, and health care.
I actually enjoyed working at the HELP Center. The people who came here for help were not the usual street people or drug bums. They were nice people in trouble. Businesses either cutting back or closed down had heavily hit this community. These families couldn’t find enough money to move. Every other house had either a For Sale sign or a Repossess sign.
I even helped in the little office tucked behind all the boxes with large jars of mustard and pickles. They had an old donated computer. I did what I could to update the accounting system to make it easier to keep up with their supplies. I got a lot of praise from everyone, because, now, they were able to find things and know when they ran out of sugar. I wasn’t stupid, so I didn’t do any surfing even when a couple of kids asked me to look for some sites they were interested in on the Internet.
I was working with Kathy Hellman, a volunteer of about fifty who spent a lot of time at the church in the kitchen. I used my real name as I didn’t think anyone would be looking for me in a church kitchen. I knew Kathy had another full time job. I understood she did not have any life outside of her church work. This was okay with me. To each his own. She could have chosen worse. There were lots of fifty-year-old single women sitting on bar stools every night.
Kathy made her friends at the church in the kitchen. She decided I was a new friend so that was why she greeted me. She found excuses to work near me when shecame in on evening duty. One evening she was helping me with the final cleaning in the kitchen and she started talking.
“Michelle, I work in the FEMA office and I told them about what you did on the old computer here. We have a job for you. How about coming in tomorrow.”
I was shocked. I looked at her as I put the large pans away in the open cabinets. I just stood there looking at her. My going to work in a Government office was the very last thing that I wanted to do. I couldn’t believe that she had even told someone about me. “Gee, Kathy, that is real sweet of you, but I am just not the office type. In fact, I was just thinking of hitting the road again. I think I was born too late. I was meant to be a hippy.” I ended this with a big laugh and finished stacking the pans.
“Hey, honey, I didn’t mean to intrude. I don’t think you understand about FEMA. It is not like Government offices. It isn’t like most offices—period. To tell you the truth, we are mostly a lot of bleeding hearts. We are what most people would call kooks. I kind of thought you would fit in with the group. In fact, I went ahead and filled in the application. I got your info from the office here.”
I dropped a pan and turned to her. My mind was working in all directions. I just was not getting anywhere fast. “Kathy what have you done?”
“Michelle, don’t look at me like that. It isn’t that important. They would like to hire you. We got a request from Washington right away. However, you won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want it. I just thought I was helping.”
Kathy looked like she was going to cry. Of course she just wanted to help.
I took a deep breath and tried to think. “Kathy, when did you put in a request for me?”
Kathy seemed confused. “Honey, don’t worry. I was just trying to help. I have gotten a couple of other homeless people jobs. I didn’t mean to push.”
“Kathy, when did you get the reply from Washington?”
Kathy took a step back and I realized I had raised my voice. I tried to calm down as I put away the last pan. “Kathy, I’m sorry, I just want to know how much time I have to make up my mind.” I gave her a weak smile.
She returned my smile and shook her head. “You take all the time you need. Let me see, I think it was only a couple of days ago that we got the request from Washington. I will say I was surprised that they were interested. Later, though, they sent through another request for us to hire four more people and approved more funds. See, it has nothing to do with you at all.”
There was such a proud look on Kathy’s face, I didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble.
I stood trying to think. I had to get out right away. I couldn’t take a chance that I had been noticed by one of the alphabet groups in Washington. Maybe I had been lucky and Kathy was right. It probably didn’t have anything to do with me. Then again, maybe elephants fly. “Let me think about it, Kathy, and thanks. Perhaps I should consider your offer. It would be a more stable life for a while.”
Kathy smiled. She seemed relieved as she helped me finish cleaning up the kitchen. I made my way to my cubbyhole. As an employee, we were given small rooms. An outside wall had enclosed cubbyhole units that had ten-foot high walls put up to separate each unit. Since the ceiling was at least thirty feet, the rooms were open above, but had doors. They contained one small cot with a couple of shelves. We could sleep and change in private even if it wouldn’t take much to push into any of these small enclosures.
I put my cash inside my sock, pushing it down so that it was inside my shoe. I put as much as possible into my backpack. I just sat on my cot until lights out. I knew that the back door was locked, but that you could go out and it would lock behind you. This was my goodbye. I didn’t want to say it face to face with anyone.
I quietly opened the back door only enough to let me pass. I slowly closed it, checking to make sure it had locked. I examined what I could see in the dark. I headed for the fence that separated the small yard at the back of the building. I went through the fence into the alley that I was totally familiar with by this time. I took the short way to the street. I was almost there when I saw two men turn slowly into the alley and then stop. I stopped also, beginning to back up. I moved over to the back of the church, but knew I couldn’t get back into the door. I turned and without any thought, started running.
I had totally misjudged the interest from the men in black. They must have been watching the soup kitchen. I heard the guys behind me running. I had on laced up tennis shoes so I didn’t make that much noise. They had on hard sole shoes. I could judge if they were making headway by the slap of their shoes against the pavement. That answered any doubt in my mind. They were after me. My best bet was to get some place where there were a bunch of people.
I reached the end of the of the alley, but saw another guy coming down the street. I didn’t even slow down. I went across the street, continuing down the alley between the dark buildings. I was pumping my legs as fast as I could when headlights blinded me as an SUV turned into the alley ahead of me. Shit.
I slid to a halt, trying two doors before the men were onto me. I let my backpack fall down on my arm and swung it at the first guy as he reached for me. He took the full weight of it across his face. I was surprised to see him fall backward on the pavement. Good hit. My self-defense teacher would have been so proud.
Unfortunately, by this time, I got hit hard by someone from behind that sent me sprawling in the alley. I knew I’d lost skin on one palm plus I felt a tear in one knee of my jeans. The next thing I knew, I was upright, held by two men. I had already decided I wasn’t going the easy way, so I was already kicking out. One man had made a mistake to step into my foot that landed in his crotch. He doubled over and went down.
One of the guys holding me actual
ly laughed, but they moved me back towards the SUV. I heard the roar of a motorcycle behind the vehicle. Not sure why I was registering noise—just my talent kicking in. The guy on the ground got up. To make matters worse, he pulled a gun out. He mumbled something that included the word bitch. He came over and stepped close to me to hit me across the face with the gun. I saw stars and I would have fallen if the two men hadn’t held me up. I felt my cheek going numb, but fought to remain conscious. I didn’t want to lose even a second with these thugs.
Not satisfied, he drew back his fist and hit me in the stomach. I gasped as the air rushed out of my lungs. I couldn’t comprehend the pain as I fought to breathe. I had been lucky in my life. I hadn’t ever had a trip to the hospital, having missed out on broken bones and sprained ankles in childhood. In my training with my personal defense training programs, there had only been the pain of pulled muscles. This was real pain—this hurt.
My backpack was still dangling from my elbow, but my head was also hanging as I tried to pull air in to help eliminate the blackness behind my eyes. As my eyes cleared, I almost wished I couldn’t see because the gun was pointed at me in front of a very angry gorilla. With the headlights, I could see his face. He was not only ugly, he was ugly mad. He was raising the gun up. I heard a click that I knew was the hammer being pulled back by the man.
I wasn’t important to any of these people. I was probably a lead to Tim, but that hadn’t turned out, so I was expendable. I had made myself an enemy when I insulted this armed idiot in front of his cronies and made him look bad. He was going to make me pay. Stupid me.
Then, I heard a muffled pop and I jerked. I was also jerked by one of the men holding me as the other one let go. He pulled out a gun he had in a holster high on his hip. I discovered two things—I wasn’t shot, but the man in front of me had been. He was down, not moving, his gun lying several feet away. With all I had gone through, even while still trying to get air into my body, I was totally confused.
I was pulled by one arm by the guy who was holding me. I was finally drawing air. I saw a guy come out of the car so he could crouch down and move towards us. He had a gun, a really big gun. From my reading I guessed it was a M4 Carbine. He was holding it over the hood of the high SUV, looking, but I felt he didn’t have a target.
I was still out of it as my brain hadn’t cleared from the lack of oxygen, and even worse, my ribs hurt. I felt the guy holding me pull me backwards. I didn’t struggle. I was too confused and too shocked by the blood spreading on the alley pavement. I worked on computers and studied history. I didn’t see blood spread from a body in an alley.
Then the driver, who was leaning over the hood, turned towards the back of the car. He fired one shot. His gun was a loud bark, followed by the muffled sound of another gun. I even saw the flash from behind the rear of the SUV, then the man’s head exploding. I gagged as gore sprayed in every direction and the man flew backwards. The guy holding me continued to back up, pulling me with him. He put his arm around my waist, putting me in front of him.
The lights half blinded me, but I could see the other guy duck down in front of the vehicle. He was moving over carefully, trying to find the mystery shooter. He stepped over his dead buddy still staying low, sliding around the side of the vehicle. In the darkness, he disappeared.
I began to struggle against the man behind me. It dawned on me that I wasn’t following my teacher’s advice. I wasn’t just going to be a deer when I could be a badger. Then, he tapped a gun against my ear.
“You are just as good to me dead as alive, so behave.”
His voice was low and harsh. He held the gun by my head over my shoulder, but I was of value to him alive. If I was dead, he couldn’t use me as a shield. He needed me alive to help protect him. Then, we heard a struggle and two more of the muffled pops. The guy holding me let out a low cuss word. He began moving back faster.
A figure stepped around the vehicle, outlined in the bright headlights. He was a large figure, totally black because of the lights behind him. He had the advantage as we had the light in our eyes. I knew that he had a weapon in his hand that was pointed at us.
“I really think you want to stop.” The words were low and strong. I recognized the voice. I froze so I wouldn’t be of any help to the man holding me. I had my legs spread to help me stand. I had one hand on his arm around my waist with the other arm being drug down by the stupid backpack.
But I had no worry about moving. The man froze also. Then, he waved the gun over my shoulder. “I will kill her.”
There was a quiet answer. “You die either way.”
I heard the gun next to my ear cock as the man drew his thumb across the hammer. Then, I heard the pop from the silencer. I felt a slight sting in my leg, but I heard the man behind me scream. He crumpled, taking me down with him. There I was, on top of a screaming man in the bright lights of a SUV, in a dirty alley.
Tim was over us with his weapon that looked so long with the silencer on it, pointing down. He reached down to jerk me up with one hand, still pointing the gun at the wounded man on the ground. Standing next to him, I looked at myself in the bright light. I saw a line of blood on my leg. More to the point, though, the man on the ground had blood pouring out of a knee wound. Tim had shot through me to the man holding me prisoner. God, what had I gotten myself into?
He let go of me, but pushed me over against the brick wall. “Stay here.” He looked at me for a second. “Can you stand up?” I nodded, but leaned back against the wall, still gripping my backpack as if it was made of gold. I knew I was beginning to lose touch with reality. Now was not the time to faint or pass out. I had the wall to hold me up.
He went back over to the downed man. He looked down at the victim, poking him with his gun in the wound in the leg. The man moaned and his whole body jerked.
“Who do you work for?” Tim asked in a very calm voice. He stood up looking down at the man.
“Go to hell,” the man hissed out, rolling sideways to reach down to shelter his damaged leg. Tim pushed him flat on his back with his foot, then shot him in the shoulder.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Now, for sure I needed the wall to hold me upright. The man moaned and in the headlights I saw his eyes roll up.
Tim went back down on his heels and quietly asked again. “You aren’t going to escape by passing out, yet. Who are you working for?”
The man groaned, then finally mumbled, “F. J Franklin. You probably already knew that. You know who they work for and you know what this is going to cost you.”
Tim looked at him and at the blood the man was losing, both from his leg and from his shoulder. “I know what it is costing you here tonight.” Tim got up, looked around, then came over to me. I flinched, expecting a bullet from that deadly long pistol. He grabbed my arm. I didn’t resist as he moved me around the SUV that was still running, doors open lights blazing.
I could hardly see after we got beyond the headlights as my eyes tried to adjust to the dark alley behind the vehicle. He pulled me over as he reached out to start the motorcycle. The powerful motor revved up, then he was breaking down his gun, putting the weapon down in a bag on the side. “Get on.”
I just stood for a second than I took a step back. “What is that?” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure why I was being quiet after the loud noise of the gunshots.
He looked up at me as he fastened the clasp where he had stashed the weapon.
“Strange woman, strange question. It is a Sig P Two Two Nine. Now, get on the bike.” There was no emotion in the voice.
I could think of a thousand things I wanted to do besides getting behind this cold- blooded killer on a motorcycle in the middle of a black night. Shit, I really didn’t want to know about his weapon.
“That wasn’t a request.”
I felt the dark eyes on me even in the hidden blackness of this area of death. I really didn’t want to get on behind this man. I had just seen him wreak havoc on five men. I only
hesitated a second, then approached, mainly because I didn’t have another choice.
“Put your hand on my shoulder so you can swing your leg over,” he instructed, so I moved in doing as told.
I swung my backpack over also, then decided to slide both my arms through, settling it between my shoulders. I sat there waiting for my heart to start beating. I needed my breathing to slow down.
“Look down, there are bars for your feet.” And there were. “Put your arms around me and hang on, tight.”
Before I had completed the hold, not really wanting to hold him tight, he gunned the heavy motorcycle. We were racing out of the alley moving down the road. We were traveling fast on the roads heading out of town. I had never been on a cycle before. The vibration of the powerful engine sang through my body. My fear made me clutch at him tightly, putting my cheek against his back.
After about a half hour on the moving bike, I began to wake up. I knew that I had been in shock that my body was just starting to come back from, to move blood and oxygen to my brain. I tried to think things through. I didn’t know who the bad guy was, or the good guy. I wasn’t sure there were any good guys in this mix. Who the hell was F. J Franklin?
Then, I realized that if there might not be any good guys, it also meant there was no one to help me. Tim—and I still questioned if that was his name—had killed three men and left another to bleed to death in a dark alley. At least one of those men had wanted to kill me, possibly two of them. I was also not sure that Tim had not wanted to kill me. I felt the sting on my leg and knew the bullet had skimmed my limb before entering the leg of the man holding me. He also didn’t indicate by words that they should just release me.
I was gripping him tightly and ducking in behind him to keep the wind off my face. I realized he had on a leather jacket over his tight jeans. He didn’t have the cargo pants on or the military look. I shivered, not sure if it was from the cold or from rushing through the night behind a killer. Probably, also it was a body reaction from shock.
