by Jacob Rayne
Mark looked a little apprehensive. Whether it was because of the intended theft or the idea of riding on this wild-looking machine, Duggan wasn’t sure.
‘Come on, he won’t miss it,’ Duggan said, pointing to a man in a leather biker jacket who laid face down in a puddle of his own blood, a Beretta 9mm in his outstretched hand.
‘He’d be grateful it was going to a true biker and not some street rat.’
Duggan frisked the guy and pulled out the keys.
He dangled them from his fingers, smiling and rubbing his hands together.
After a moment’s thought, he rifled the rest of the guy’s pockets, taking a handful of ammunition before prying the gun from the biker’s hand.
‘Can never have too many guns,’ he winked. ‘Right, let’s get the lids on and get out of here.’
They pulled away, leaving the screams and gunshots behind them.
For now.
III: Extermination
After an immense breakfast that was every bit as delicious as Abbott had promised, the two soldiers strolled back out into the sun.
‘Wasn’t that the mutt’s nuts?’ Abbott grinned.
He’d donned the sunglasses they’d taken from the car where Sylvia had been murdered. A cigar had found its way to his lips and he was taking contented little pulls on it as he looked around.
‘Yeah. Thanks.’
‘Least I can do, Sergeant. Now, ’fore I get distracted by something else I suggest we go see my old man.’
Back at the outskirts of the cemetery, they got out of the car.
Hammett was uncomfortably full and was waddling rather than walking, whereas Abbott didn’t seem bothered by his bellyful, hurling himself along on his crutches at a ferocious pace.
It was a struggle for Hammett to get up the hill, given how sluggish the hot sun and heavy meal had conspired to make him.
He stood at the top, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, panting for breath.
‘Getting old, huh?’ Abbott grinned.
‘Too… much… food. And… hot.’
Abbott nodded and handed him a bottle of water. The heat had already made the inside of the bottle cloud up with condensation.
‘Take a minute in the shade and get your breath back. The heat really takes it outta ya, don’t it?’
Hammett didn’t reply, just gulped down a slug of cold water.
The cold liquid didn’t mingle well with the food and coffee already swimming around in his belly.
‘OK,’ Hammett said.
‘Take a bit longer,’ Abbott said, absentmindedly wiping a smudge from the lens of his sunglasses.
A few minutes later, when Hammett’s belly had quit growling, they set off along the dirt track that led across the graveyard.
‘He’s in the rear right hand corner,’ Abbott said.
They reached a slight incline and Abbott grinned. ‘Wait till you see this view,’ he said.
They turned to the left and the whole graveyard lay below them, the sun-bleached stones and wooden crosses and ornaments carried on down the hill as far as the eye could see, in stark contrast with the scorched, dusty earth.
‘I know it’s all dead people but there’s something spectacular about that view,’ Abbott said. ‘Takes my breath away every time.’
He raised a finger and pointed far off into the corner of the cemetery.
It was so far that Hammett had to squint to see what he was pointing at.
At the corner of the fence was a low hanging willow tree. Its sun-dried branches hung down, casting a perfect shade over a stone sculpture.
‘Come on, you have to see it up close to really appreciate it,’ Abbott said, setting off up the hill at a hell of a pace.
Duggan pulled the motorcycle over by the edge of the road between Taunton and Greenville.
Above them towered a huge tower block with hundreds of windows staring out like glassy eyes.
‘You’d best come in,’ Duggan said, waving Mark forward.
He grabbed Mark’s arm and started dragging him into an alleyway.
Mark was about to protest but then he saw the woman pass, a pained grimace on her face and a bulge on the back of her skull.
‘Aren’t you glad I’m looking out for you?’ Duggan whispered.
The woman lurched on, her gaze fixed straight ahead, not interested in the two men.
‘What are we doing?’ Mark whispered. ‘I thought we were getting out of here.’
‘We are. Just got one thing to take care of first.’
Duggan took a glance around the corner and saw that the woman had already disappeared down the street.
‘Come on,’ Duggan said, shoving open one of the heavy glass doors that led inside the building.
A big security guard started to head for them, but a slender female in a smart suit stopped him with a single shake of her head.
‘What’s the story?’ she said.
‘You’re that Channel 6 news woman, aren’t you?’ Duggan said.
‘I’m Sadie Willow, yes.’
‘We’ve got one hell of a story for you, Sadie,’ Duggan said, beckoning her to the glass door. ‘Y’see that woman there? The one ambling down the middle of the road? She’s the result of a botched biological experiment funded by the Jeffries family.’
Sadie looked at him in disbelief.
‘You don’t believe me?’ he said. ‘Head into Taunton. There are fucking hundreds of them. Hundreds. And they’re going to start leaving town soon, so I suggest you start spreading the word.’
Sadie opened her mouth to ask a question, but Duggan was already out of the door.
‘He’s right,’ Mark said. ‘Be careful. Those things are dangerous.’ He disappeared onto the street too.
When Sadie went out, Duggan was gunning the Harley’s throttle.
Mark was adjusting his lid.
Then the bike roared away, leaving Sadie in a haze of exhaust smoke.
Sweating and finding it hard to breath, Hammett reached the grave of Old Man Abbott.
Captain Abbott was knelt in front of the impressively carved stone mausoleum, his eyes closed and his mouth moving in silent prayer.
He quickly made the sign of the cross and turned to face Hammett. ‘Took your time, didn’t you?’
Hammett shrugged. ‘I’m no use to anyone with heat stroke.’
‘Indeed you’re not. Well put. So, want to see what’s so good about my daddy’s grave?’
‘I guess so.’ He didn’t add, since you dragged me all of the way out here.
‘Take a good look at this. Read the inscriptions. And I’ll show you the reason we’re here when you’re through.’
Hammett took his time looking it over, glad to be in the shade of the cool stone shrine.
He saw the sculpture of the man – who looked very much like Abbott only with a thick beard and long straggly hair – kneeling down, his arms crossed over his chest, a huge, intricately carved stone magnum in each hand and a small pile of bones at his feet.
He saw the inscription, ‘Here lies General Lance Abbott of US Marine Corps. Proud father, husband and soldier.’ There was a brief description of General Abbott’s service history, along with carved facsimiles of his medals of honour.
‘Impressive stuff,’ Hammett said.
Abbott nodded, a look of anticipation on his face.
Hammett looked right at the base of the statue where there was a bible verse carved into the stone in six inch letters: ‘For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth.’
Hammett looked to Abbott.
‘You ready for this, Sergeant?’ Abbott said.
‘I guess.’
Abbott bent down and pressed the word ‘wrath’. It sunk a few inches into the surface of the stone and there were a number of clicks from deep within the sculpture.
A small gap appeared at the base of the stone.
Abbott knelt and
leant forward, putting his arm into the hole that had appeared.
He grunted with the effort then pulled out a plastic Ziploc bag which contained a huge Magnum, which was clearly the inspiration for the stone guns on the statue.
Abbott blew the layer of fine sandy dust off the surface of the bag and beamed up at Hammett.
‘Good, eh?’
Hammett grinned.
‘Let me explain. This here weapon got me out of ’Nam alive. My old man gave it to me when he heard I’d gotten myself involved in all of that. Once I came back safe and sound I kept it. He kept the other one and when he died he was buried with it still in his calloused old hand. The other one he wanted me to keep, but I wanted it to be with him unless I needed it.
‘I had this shrine built specially by this chief from Arkansas with the express purpose of keeping that gun accessible should I need it.’
‘I see.’
‘You ain’t seen nothing like this thing in action, Sergeant. Kicks like a goddamn nag in heat. I ain’t kidding when I say it got me out of ’Nam. Saved my ass a few times. And I’m going to use it to take Jeffries’ head right off his shoulders.’
‘Why’d you do that?’ Mark said.
‘What? Tell her about the escapees?’
‘No, just leave her in the dust.’
‘It’s my job to pass the message on, not stick around and wait for the shit to hit the fan.’
‘Where are we going now?’
‘To do the same in the next city. Then after that I’m not sure, ’cept I want to be as far away from here as possible.’
Sadie Willow was dazed and confused by the information she’d been given by the biker. She got on the phone to Izzy, an old friend who’d been trying to keep tabs on the Jeffries’ Research Foundation.
‘Hey, Sadie. What’s going on?’
‘Not sure, Izzy. I just had a strange encounter with some biker guy.’
‘Oh yeah? Sounds hot.’
‘Izzy!’
Izzy laughed down the phone. ‘Sorry, you know me and burly guys in leather.’
‘Don’t I just? No, this biker was spouting some pretty heavy stuff, saying that the Jeffries family were experimenting on people and messing around with biological weaponry.’
‘No shit. That’s an accusation that’s got some legs. That one’s been going around since the turn of the millennium.’
‘I know. I also know that you were paid vast sums of money to try and lift the lid on the whole deal.’
‘True, but the evidence I got was inconclusive.’
‘When has that ever stopped you?’
Izzy snorted laughter. ‘I think it’s true, they just cover their tracks very well. I never found anything solid but there were plenty of conspiracies flying around.’
‘I know. Most of them came from your pen.’
‘I think it’s more likely true than not, if that helps.’
‘Yeah, thanks. I’m going to follow up on this.’
‘Be careful. These guys aren’t afraid to get rid of witnesses or snoopers.’
‘How come you’re still kicking around then?’
‘I’m an old pro.’
‘That you are. Thanks, Izzy. You be careful. He said that Taunton was overrun with these escaped test subjects.’
‘Taunton?’
‘Yes.’
‘You may be onto something there, girl. That’s where that shooting took place a few days ago.’
‘What shooting?’
‘Strictly need to know. Covered up beautifully by our ever-loving government.’
‘Shit.’
‘I reckon this could be genuine, Sadie. You need a hand?’
‘No way. No offence, but this landed in my lap.’
‘I understand. You be careful though. This sounds dangerous.’
‘I will. Thanks, Izzy. Take care of yourself.’
‘You too.’
Sadie’s head spun with the thought of the story she could get from this.
She didn’t know where to start, flapping around her desk in a state of hyperactivity.
Then she composed herself, grabbed a camera, a notepad and set out onto the street.
Hammett pulled up next to a grocery store a few streets away from the old cigar shop where it seemed Jeffries was hiding out.
‘Gonna get a coffee,’ Abbott said, getting out of the car.
Abbott appeared a few minutes later with two steaming paper cups. The scent drifted in through Hammett’s open window and grabbed him by the throat.
‘Got one for you. Gets you jittery. On your toes. Good for your reflexes and your concentration.’
‘Smells like fag ash,’ Hammett said, wrinkling his nose at the tar-like contents of his cup.
‘Tastes like a porn star’s pussy,’ Abbott beamed, taking a big swig of the coffee and making a satisfied grunt.
Hammett didn’t quite agree with this description – in fact, he couldn’t taste anything with his first mouthful as it scalded his tongue and the back of his throat – but he had to admit that it was good coffee.
With both cups standing empty the men had an immense caffeine buzz.
Abbott felt as though his face had been pulled tight and an invisible finger was tapping on the top of his head. He felt ready for anything as he got out of the car.
Hammett joined him on the sidewalk where it seemed even hotter than in the graveyard. Hammett wiped sweat off his brow.
As with most things, Abbott didn’t seem fazed.
They walked slowly, trying to look like shoppers just out for a stroll. A few people recognised Abbott, but didn’t speak.
At the opposite end of the street to the cigar store, Abbott collared Hammett.
‘One guard, by the entrance,’ he said. ‘Sticks out like a horse’s cock.’
Hammett glanced and nodded.
‘You go round the back. I’ll approach from the front.’
Hammett said nothing, just set off down the back street.
Abbott put his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual. His right hand gripped the handle of the magnum he’d got from his father’s grave.
He sauntered up the street, managing to look as though he didn’t have a care in the world, until he reached the front of the cigar store. All but one of the windows were boarded up.
He shook his head and tutted, loud enough for the guard to hear.
‘Fucking crying shame what they’ve done to this place,’ he said.
The guard looked up from the sidewalk, but didn’t seem eager to engage in conversation.
‘Fucking Uncle Sam trying to stop us smoking,’ Abbott continued in a louder voice. ‘I’ll smoke if I want to, son. And you know what?’ he paused, stabbing his cigar at the guard as if to make his point.
‘What?’ the guard said, somewhat reluctantly.
‘The price of the fucking things you think Uncle Sam’d be opening one of these stores on every corner of every goddamn town. Y’hear me?’
Abbott moved past the guard and pressed his face and hands to the glass. He tutted again.
‘Come ’ere, son,’ he said, extending his arm to the guard.
The guard looked at it dubiously for a second then seemed to decide that nothing bad was going to happen.
‘This back wall here used to be full – and I mean full – of glass cases with every type of cigar under the sun. Now what?’ he held his hands aside and shook his head. ‘Goddamn nanny state. Well, I’ll smoke if I want to, son. I’ll smoke if I want to.’
He lit the cigar and exhaled a mouthful of sweet-smelling smoke in the guard’s face.
While the guard coughed and tried to clear his vison, Abbott looked round and checked that no one was watching them.
‘And one last thing before I leave you in peace, sonny,’ he said, and launched a ferocious right hook that landed flush on the guard’s chin and knocked him clean out.
He unlocked the front door using a key he found in the guard’s jacket then let Hammett in through t
he back door.
‘What took you so long?’ Hammett asked.
‘Got on my high horse. Not to worry, worked it all outta my system.’
‘Good. Hope you saved some for Jeffries though.’
‘Oh, you can count on that. Whereabouts can we find the yellow son of a whore?’
Sadie’s first experience on the streets of Taunton was not a good one.
The strangely coloured moths that she’d seen about the place seemed drawn to her and had flown right into her face.
Given that she was scared of normal moths, this almost gave her a coronary, especially when the clawed wings cut her face and hands.
She managed to slap them all away through sheer panic and continued into town.
Her terror subsided as the moths drifted away like smoke on the breeze.
In their absence, she found herself wishing she’d taken a photo of them.
Around the next corner was one of the people that the biker had pointed out. She ambled along like an escaped mental patient, her coordination barely enough to keep her from falling over. The back of her head seemed swollen. Maybe she’d been hit with something. That would explain the slurring and the lurching gait.
Sadie snapped a quick photo with the zoom lens, wanting to capture the strange bulge.
The flash made the woman turn. Her vacant expression and bloody lips chilled Sadie’s blood, but her eyes were the worst – empty and glassy, like she was a walking corpse.
Sadie began to wish she’d grabbed the Sig Sauer revolver her father had bought her when she’d moved into her own place. She felt strangely naked without a weapon.
Her nerve almost broke, but the compulsion to get what could be the story of the year drove her on.
She moved away from the woman but chose another route into town, headed towards her story and hopefully her bright future.
From the plans Hammett had seen, he remembered a metal door set into one of the walls of the cigar shop and, after a full ten minutes of searching, they found it behind a false wall.
How Jeffries had gotten in without disturbing the false wall was a mystery that would have to remain unsolved for the time being.
The keypad next to the door taunted them for a while, but Hammett typed in Jeffries’ wedding date and the door swung back.
