Tell Me No Spies

by Diane Henders

  “Okay, let’s get your jacket off.”

  “I’m fine. Just lemme be.”

  “Now, soldier!” I rapped out, and he started.

  “Jeez, darlin’…”

  “Move it!”

  He blew out a half-sigh, half-groan, and painfully leaned forward to remove his jacket. I helped him work the sleeves off his arms, and reached around behind him to lift it away. I froze when my hand contacted a hard shape at the middle of his back.

  “Arnie…?”

  He shrugged and pulled out the gun. “Just bein’ prepared.”

  The car swerved slightly as Dave peered at us in the mirror. “Where’d you get that?”

  Hellhound shrugged again. “Found it.”

  “Where?” Dave demanded suspiciously.

  “A guy kinda gave it to me.”

  “Kinda?” It was my turn to fix him with a skeptical eye.

  “Well, he didn’t object,” Hellhound mumbled, not meeting my gaze. “Don’t think he’ll report it missin’.” He stuffed it back into the waistband of his jeans.

  I opened my mouth to admonish him, realized the futility, and sighed instead. A once-over of his upper body revealed only bruises, providing an unflattering background for his tattoos. I stopped again as I worked my way down his legs.

  “Just leave ‘em there,” he muttered when I drew a wicked-looking knife out of each boot and examined them.

  “Nice.” I tucked them back into place. “Rambo.”

  He laid his head back and closed his eyes. “Ain’t takin’ any chances. Ya still got your stun gun, Dave?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Aydan, ya got your gun, too?”

  I sighed. “Yeah. But I’m the only one who can use a weapon and get away with it. You guys are going straight to jail if you do.”

  Hellhound shrugged and said nothing.

  Dave shot me an avid glance over his shoulder. “I knew it. You have a double-oh-seven license, don’t you?”

  I winced. “No, Dave.”

  “Then how’d you get away with killing those four guys?”

  Hellhound’s eyes snapped open. “Four?” He regarded me sharply. “Ya only told me about one.”

  “Um, yeah,” I mumbled. “Sorry, need-to-know. And anyway, Dave, I told you, it was self-defence. It wasn’t James Bond stuff. Pull in here!”

  Dave slammed on the brakes and took a hard right into a strip mall. “Where?”

  I pointed. “We need some first-aid stuff, some more food, and Arnie needs a couple of shirts.”

  He parked, and I started to get out of the car. Arnie grabbed my wrist. “Wrong, darlin’. Let Dave go. Ya got two separate bunches a’ guys tryin’ to kill ya. You’re gonna stay here where I can keep an eye on ya.”

  “Right,” Dave agreed. He eyed Hellhound. “What size do you need?”

  “Extra-large. Double-X if they got it.”

  “Get some frozen peas or something, too, if you can,” I told Dave. “A couple of bags. One for his face and one for his hand. And some bottled water and a towel so we can get him cleaned up.”

  “Got it.” Dave swung the door open. He eased one leg out of the car before stiffening into immobility with a gasp. I could hear the faint grinding of his teeth as he lifted his other leg out with both hands. By the time he had his feet on the ground, I got around to the door and helped him stand while he straightened by degrees.

  “Guess I twisted it again messing with Randy,” he grated. “Back in a bit.” He hobbled slowly across the parking lot.

  “I’m gonna get in the front,” Hellhound mumbled around his packing. “He’s gonna need to stretch out. Come an’ stand in fronta me so nobody sees the blood.”

  He got out of the car with slightly more grace than Dave, but I could tell he was feeling the effects of all those bruises. As he sank into the front seat, he transferred the gun to the front of his jeans and pulled his jacket over top. He eyed me for a moment. “Ya might as well get in the driver’s seat again. An’ then we gotta have a talk. While Dave’s in the store.”

  I got back in the car and shot him a look. The wound in his forehead was still oozing steadily, and his beard and moustache were so encrusted with clotted blood that he looked barely human. “Are you really okay?” I asked before he could speak. “Tell me the truth, now that you don’t have to put on a front for Dave.”

  Hellhound made a noise that probably would have been a snort if not for the packing in his nose. “I don’t give a shit what he thinks,” he growled. “I got nothin’ to prove. An’ I’m fine. But we gotta talk about Dave. Who’s Randy, and why’s he messin’ with him? What’d ya do while ya were waitin’ for me?”

  “We went to the Y and had showers. Dave ran into this guy, Randy, that he knew from work. Randy made some crack about me, and Dave grabbed Randy and threatened him. Made a scene, and I had to drag him out before anybody got excited and called the police.”

  “Fuck. The guy’s a fuckin’ walkin’ mid-life crisis,” Hellhound spat. “He ain’t thinkin’ straight, he’s got a giant hard-on for ya -”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I interrupted, hoping to distract him. “It was big, but I wouldn’t say it was giant.”

  Arnie snickered. “Hope it ain’t bigger’n mine.”

  “I’m not sure. Let me get my calipers.” I rubbed my fingertips together and reached for him, bouncing my eyebrows.

  He laughed out loud, the sound incongruous with his horror-show face. “Glad ya got your priorities straight. But seriously, darlin’, ol’ Dave thinks he’s in loooove, an’ he wants to be a fuckin’ hero. He’s gonna get us all killed.”

  I sighed. “I know. Any suggestions?”

  “Drive away. Right fuckin’ now.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Arnie, you know I can’t. You wouldn’t either. He’s trying to help, he’s put his ass on the line for us, and we can’t just abandon him.”

  “He put his ass on the line for you, not us.” I glared at him, and he blew out a sigh. “Yeah, I know, darlin’, you’re right. I just don’t wanna see him puttin’ ya in any more danger than ya are already. He’s just a dumb civilian.”

  “So are we.”

  He eyed me thoughtfully, working his fingers through his crusty beard. “I don’t think so, darlin’. Four guys?” He frowned, winced when the wound in his forehead opened up, and surveyed me levelly as he pressed the sodden wad of cotton against his brow again. “Why’d ya tell Dave that?”

  “I didn’t. The guys that were trying to capture me in Victoria told him. They were pretending I was an escaped criminal, and they told him I was armed and dangerous. That’s how I got this.” I flashed the black and purple bruise on my forearm.

  “Wondered about that. What happened?”

  “I was hiding in the bathroom in the sleeper. After they told him I was dangerous, he picked up an iron bar for self-defence. I had to let him hit me to prove I wasn’t a danger to him.”

  Hellhound jerked upright, his face twisting with fury. “He hit ya? That fucker, I’m gonna twist his fuckin’ back so he never fuckin’ walks again!”

  “No, you’re not.” I glared at him until he subsided. “He was scared. They told him I’d killed four guys and that he was in danger. You would’ve done the same thing.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Arnie said flatly. “I’d never hit a woman. Never. No matter what.”

  “I’m sorry.” I took his uninjured hand and stroked it, smearing the half-dried blood. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments before he met my eyes again. “Yesterday, I thought ya were just bein’ nice when ya said everybody had a violent side. Seems like ya know more about that than I thought. Ya wanna tell me about the other three guys?”

  “It was self-defence. I shot two on the way out of the warehouse in March, right before you picked us up.”

  “Those fuckin’ assholes,” Hellhound growled. “After
what they did to ya, shootin’ was too good for ‘em.”

  I sighed. “And you remember the fire at Spider’s house a couple of months ago? There was a guy… He was going to kidnap me and leave Spider in there to burn. I had to shoot him so I could get Spider out. That was… hard. Personal. I… I’d known the guy for a while, and I liked him… before. I thought he was a nice kid. But it was all lies. Just more lies.”

  His arm closed around my shoulders, and I leaned my head against him. “Ya okay, darlin’?” he asked gently.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  He sighed and his arm tightened around me. “Nah. Just askin’.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Good.”

  “There’s Dave.” I straightened up as I spotted him limping toward us, a couple of large bags in his hands. “That’s got to hurt his back, carrying those bags.”

  I reached for the door handle, but Arnie’s hand closed on my wrist. “Wait for him to get to the car. Ya can help him then.”

  I waited until he drew closer before getting out to take the bags from him and hand them in to Hellhound. Dave eased painfully into the back while I did my best to support him, and at last we got him half-reclining across the seat while Arnie rummaged through the bags.

  “Lotta stuff in here,” he observed. “Ya need more cash?”

  “No,” Dave grunted. “Used my plastic.”

  “What?!”

  “Shit!”

  Hellhound and I let out simultaneous exclamations of dismay, and I leaped for the driver’s seat.

  Chapter 23

  “What?” Dave demanded as I slammed the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot.

  “Slow down, darlin’, don’t attract attention,” Arnie said tensely.

  “Right. Dave, stay down. Arnie, get cleaned up if you can.” I slowed the car to the speed limit and tried to look everywhere at once. “Where should I go?”

  “Forest Lawn. Use some back roads,” Arnie snapped, scrubbing roughly at his face. He slopped some water onto the already scarlet towel and twisted around to look behind us before continuing his efforts.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Dave repeated.

  “They’ll be watchin’ for credit card activity, dumbfuck,” Hellhound grated. “Ya might as well’ve put up a big fuckin’ neon sign, ‘Here we are, come fuck us up the ass with a dead chicken’. If they catch Aydan because a’ you, I’m gonna -”

  “Arnie, cut him some slack, he didn’t know…” I begged.

  I jumped as Hellhound overrode me with a sudden shout. “Fuck, Dave, don’t ya ever watch the fuckin’ movies? Ya thinkin’ with your fuckin’ dick, or what?”

  “Arnie, don’t! Please!” Stress nudged my mind into overload. “Wait… what did you say?” I faltered as the car slowed along with my brain. “Isn’t that ‘like a dead chicken’, not ‘with a dead chicken’…?”

  “Like, with, whatever!” Hellhound yelled. “Drive the fuckin’ car, or we’re all gonna be fuckin’ dead chickens!”

  “Don’t talk to her like that!” Dave blazed from the back seat. “You big dumb ugly bastard, you’re not worth the dirt on her shoes…”

  Hellhound spun to lunge over the seat at Dave. “Ya fuckin’ little-”

  I slammed on the brakes.

  The car jerked to a halt, accompanied by two heavy thuds and yells of pain as Hellhound slammed into the dashboard and Dave crashed into the back of the front seat.

  Hellhound dragged himself slowly up from his contorted position in the foot well of the passenger seat, holding his head. I squelched my spasm of guilt at the sight of the gash in his forehead bleeding freely again.

  “What the hell did ya do that for?” he inquired mildly.

  “Speak for yourself,” I told him. “I’m not fucking any dead chickens.”

  “Say what?” He held the towel to his brow and gaped at me.

  “You said we were all going to be fucking dead chickens. I’m not fucking any chickens, dead or alive, and that’s final.”

  He stared at me for another instant before letting out a roar of laughter. An irritated driver laid on the horn behind us and swung out to pass, giving us an aggressive middle finger as he went by. Arnie laughed even harder, holding his sides and bellowing.

  Dave joined in with a feeble chuckle from the back seat, and within seconds, the car was rocking while we guffawed helplessly. A chorus of angry horns from behind us made me wipe the tears from my eyes and take my foot off the brake, still giggling feebly.

  “Dead chickens,” I repeated, and we all snickered some more.

  I sobered as a police car sped toward us in the oncoming lane, lights flashing but no siren. “Better put on your seatbelts, guys.”

  I took the next right turn and zigzagged sedately through a residential neighbourhood to emerge on another main road. We had a quiet and uneventful trip to Forest Lawn.

  At the industrial park, I followed Hellhound’s directions to a large overhead door in a nondescript brick building. As we pulled up, Hellhound shot a wary glance around the deserted parking lot. “If anythin’ happens to me, just drive away.”

  “No.” I pulled my gun out of my ankle holster. “I’ve had enough bullshit today. If anything happens to you, I’m shooting the guy who made it happen.”

  He eyed me for a second before the uninjured corner of his mouth quirked up. “Okay, darlin’, that works, too.”

  He climbed stiffly out of the passenger seat and approached a keypad beside the door. After another furtive look around the lot, he punched in a code and quickly stood back against the brick wall as the door began to roll up.

  He glanced into the opening and nodded satisfaction, motioning me forward. As soon as the door was high enough, I drove the Caprice into the cavernous space. Arnie ducked in behind and immediately punched a button to roll the door down again. As the crack of light disappeared, I turned on the headlights in the pitch darkness.

  A few seconds later, ceiling lights blazed to life, and I turned off the headlights. Arnie headed for the front of the bay, looking pleased. “We’re good, darlin’,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Ya can get out now.”

  I scanned the bay, recognizing autobody and welding tools. I was just beginning to wander away from the car when Dave’s tight voice stopped me.

  “Need a hand.”

  I turned back to the car to find him still crumpled in the back seat, half on the floor. “Can’t move,” he said apologetically.

  Fear rushed through me. “Can you feel your legs?”

  “Yeah. Wish I couldn’t, though.” He grimaced and struggled to sit up. Sweat sprang out on his forehead, and he froze again, panting through clenched teeth.

  I heaved a sigh of relief. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  “Yeah, guess you’re right. I’m okay, just need help to swing my legs around.”

  “I’ll get you out.” I leaned in, surveying the situation. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Don’t know. If I could get up on the seat, I’d be able to use my arms. Just can’t get ahold of anything here.”

  “Okay, I’ll try to get you onto the seat.”

  “Don’t wreck your back, now, too,” he admonished.

  “I’m not planning to.” I placed one foot carefully beside his legs in the foot well. “If you just put your arms around my neck, I’ll be able to push off the seat with both hands and drag you up. Hold on…”

  I got my other knee braced on the seat, one arm on each of the seatbacks. “Okay, put your arms around my neck.”

  “No,” he objected. “You can’t hold my weight with your neck.”

  “Arnie!” I called.

  “Yeah.”

  “We need help.”

  “Be right there.”

  “What if you put your arms around my shoulders?” I suggested.

  “Might work.” Dave clasped his arms around me, and I heaved upward.

  I managed to raise him a few inches before my shaking arms collapsed unde
r an overdose of adrenaline and an under-dose of blood sugar. The impact wrenched a cry out of Dave when our combined weight landed on the seat. Panting, I tried to squirm carefully off him before I hurt him any worse.

  “Jesus, no kiddin’ ya need help,” Hellhound chuckled. “You’re doin’ it wrong. Ya gotta take your clothes off first.”

  I struggled up from my straddled position over Dave’s body and backed out of the car to see Arnie leaning against it, a beer in his bloodcaked hand.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  “Raidin’ the beer fridge,” he said smugly. “Weasel owes me.”

  “We need to get Dave out right away.” I took a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart.

  “Awright, what d’ya wanna do?” He poked his head in. “That’s gotta hurt.”

  Dave grunted. “Just get me out of here.”

  “Okay. Aydan, if ya go around to the other side, can ya lift his shoulders? I’ll get his legs.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Arnie eyed my trembling hands and blew out a breath. “When did ya eat last, darlin’?”

  “Breakfast.” I went around the car.

  “Fuck, this ain’t gonna work. Ya gotta eat first.”

  “No, I’ll be okay. We’ve got to get him out.”

  Dave was the one stuck in the car, but I was feeling panicky on his behalf. Trapped, in pain, unable to move… I shuddered and got into the car beside him, switching to yoga breathing. Stay calm.

  “You okay?” Dave eyed me with concern.

  “Fine. Come on, Arnie, let’s do this.” I slid my hands under Dave’s arms and locked my hands over his chest while Hellhound reached in the other door, one arm under Dave’s legs while he braced himself against the seat back with his other arm.

  “Pull him toward ya. Just get him on the seat,” Hellhound directed. “On three. One, two, three!”

  I heaved on Dave’s shoulders and a hoarse cry burst out of him as his body flopped onto the seat.

  The nightmare flashed in front of me. The unending raw-throated screams of agony. The smells. My own pain. The terror of being trapped.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, breathing carefully. In. Out. Ocean waves. That was long past. Breathe.

  “Aydan?”