The Last Resort

by Steph Broadribb

  I wrote them on a scrap of paper and stuffed it into my pocket. ‘For sure.’

  Enough training. Enough practice. I grabbed my purse and my Taser and headed for my truck. It was time I got myself some real action.

  Of course ‘the fork road’ wasn’t a real name; it was what locals called the road that ran around Silver Valley, feeding from the main highway and forking at the point the highway met the river. It was popular with vacationers and had a good few viewing spots, but, aside from that and the gas station a few miles along from the fork, I couldn’t recall any place occupied along it.

  I found the gas station easy enough. It was an old-time place; two pumps and a shabby wooden booth with a tin roof that looked like it’d been there since time began. Parking up, I got out of my truck and crossed the unkempt forecourt. The tarmac was cracked and uneven, and what with the ancient-looking booth and the rust-distressed pumps, it seemed the place barely scratched out a living.

  At first I thought the booth was empty, and if it hadn’t been for the radio playing banjo music and a single glowing bulb, I’d probably have turned back. As it was, I peered through the hatch, looking for the owner of the radio. I noticed the basic groceries stacked on the shelves: tinned goods, firelighters, camping supplies. Then I saw a shotgun leant up against the back wall, and suddenly felt really isolated.

  ‘Hello?’ I said.

  I heard a couple of hacking coughs, then a wiry guy with a grey-flecked beard and a faded Redskins ballcap shuffled out front. He looked me up and down. ‘Help you?’

  ‘You gave a heads-up on a guy who came through here about an hour ago. He stopped in and bought supplies? I’m following it up.’

  The wiry guy squinted at me. Rubbed his beard. ‘You working for Lenny?’

  I nodded. ‘Yep.’

  He looked suspicious. ‘Didn’t think he had no woman on his staff.’

  ‘Lenny called my…’ I wondered what I should call JT. Figured on something this guy would take as good enough to tell me the details on Dwayne Kip. ‘…my boss. He’s on another job right now, so Lenny got me instead.’

  ‘You working for James Tate, then?’

  ‘I am.’

  The guy whistled. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. Thought hell would freeze over before he worked with anyone. He’s a real-deal loner type.’

  ‘Yeah.’ There was a specific reason JT was working with me, but it wasn’t something I was willing to share with this guy. I checked my watch. Every moment I was standing here was additional time Dwayne Kip had to get away. I sure didn’t have time for the chitchat. ‘So what can you tell me about the man who stopped here?’

  ‘Nothing much. He came through on an old rattler of a chopper about seventy-five minutes ago. Asked for a gas burner and matches, and bought a couple of days’ worth of food, some bottled water and a case of beers. Paid cash and left.’ He beckoned me to lean forward through the hatch, and gestured to a pinboard fixed to the wall on the other side of the till. There were a bunch of mugshots fixed to the board. ‘Recognised him, so I called Lenny just as soon as the chopper pulled back onto the highway.’

  ‘Which way was he headed?’

  ‘He took a right.’

  So he was going in the opposite direction to the fork junction that would have led him back to civilisation. There was nothing to the right except forest, rivers and a hundred and twenty-five miles of circular mountain road. ‘Any idea where he might be camping out?’

  The guy shrugged. ‘Ain’t no mind reader.’

  ‘For sure.’ I turned to leave. ‘Well thanks—’

  ‘Wait up, lady. Now I come to think on it, there’s an old motel about twelve miles from here. It’s set back a little ways from the road and hard to spot due to it having been empty for near on twenty years. Given he didn’t have no camping gear strapped to his bike, I’d say he’s found himself a roof for shelter. Could be that one.’

  Seemed a fair assumption. ‘I’ll check it out.’

  ‘Look for the stone pillars on the left of the highway. They’re overgrown with creeper but were still standing the last time I ventured that way. The entrance is between them, but you’ll need to go in on foot. It ain’t suitable for vehicles no more.’

  ‘Thanks for the tip.’

  He frowned. ‘You better wait for that boss of yours before you go on out there. Pretty little thing like you don’t want to get mixed up with a bad type like that.’

  I shook my head. I sure as shit wasn’t going to let any man tell me what I could and couldn’t do. I’d had enough of that in the past. Anyways, I had a plan – JT had taught me to always have a plan: I’d find Dwayne Kip and take him to jail. A man who preyed on innocent folks had no place being free, and I was going to see to it that he faced justice. ‘Don’t you worry about me, I’m tougher than I look.’

  The old guy looked unconvinced. Said nothing.

  Still, fake it till you make it, huh? As I stepped on the gas and set off in search of the motel I hoped I’d do a better job of convincing the fugitive.

  I found the motel eleven and a half miles later. The stone pillars were standing, covered in creepers, as the guy at the gas station booth had said they’d be. The old driveway looked like the rest of the forest floor – covered in rampaging bushes – and a huge lichen-covered oak had fallen across it, blocking access to the motel building by car. Nature had reclaimed the space, filling in the tarmac, correcting the environment back to its original state. I pulled the truck off the road and parked it with its wheels in the dirt a few yards from the pillars.

  Outside the vehicle I paused, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. What little light there was came from where the gaps in the tree canopy allowed the glow from the full moon to break through. The forest was silent, unnaturally so; no insects, no animals. My breathing quickened. My pulse banged loud in my ears. Out here on the circular road, with only the gas station guy knowing where I was, I felt suddenly, stomach-churningly, nervous.

  JT words echoed in my mind: You’re not ready. You need more practice.

  Had I been a fool to think I could do this alone?

  Above me I heard the beating of wings, and an owl shrieked, loud and piercing.

  I jumped at the sudden noise, heart pounding. Shook my head. To hell with this over-thinking, I’d been training for this moment every day for a month. I knew I could do it, and I wasn’t about to back out now.

  Still, a little insurance couldn’t hurt. Pulling out my cell phone, I called JT’s cabin and left a message telling him about Lenny’s job and that I’d tracked Dwayne Kip to the abandoned motel on the circular part of the fork road. I figured JT was still out, but at least he’d get the message when he returned. That suited me just fine. I wanted this to be my job, alone. Wanted to show JT that I was tough enough, ready enough, to bring Dwayne Kip back to face his charges. What’s more, I needed to prove how far I’d come from being the bruised wife of a violent man, and that I wouldn’t ever be anyone’s victim again.

  Putting my cell back into my pocket, I climbed over the fallen tree blocking the drive to the motel and headed towards the dark shadow of the building.

  Up close the motel looked real ghostly. It was a rectangular, two-storey building with pale stucco walls and what looked, in the moonlight, to have once been blue wooden doors that were now sun-faded and peeling. The wooden stairs up to the second floor had rotted in places, the missing treads making it impossible to reach that level from the outside. The roof towards the right corner had caved in, and several of the windows had been smashed, but a few of the doors still had their numbers intact – four, eight, fifteen, thirty-six.

  I heard no sounds of human life, and saw no light behind any of the windows.

  As I moved closer I wondered if I had things wrong. Maybe Dwayne Kip hadn’t stopped here.

  That’s when I spotted the chopper parked close to the left side of the building, near a door with a sign saying ‘Welcome’ above it. The wiry guy back at the gas station had s
aid Dwayne Kip had been riding an old bike. I was in the right place.

  Now I had to catch my fugitive.

  Given there was no light in any of the rooms I figured the door beside the bike would be the best place to start. My boots crunched on the dead branches littering the broken tarmac as I navigated my way through the encroaching undergrowth. I hoped there were no rattlesnakes hiding beneath the scrubs or in the trees above.

  I shivered and told myself: Bounty hunters don’t get scared. Bounty hunters are fearless.

  I shook the thoughts of snakes from my mind and concentrated on the motel, scanning the building for movement.

  As I drew closer, the debris of the forest floor cleared. It seemed the paving around the front of the building had been more resilient to nature’s attack, the large flagstones still visible among the weeds. What with there being no light on inside, anyone watching out for intruders had a better chance of seeing my approach. I needed to cover the distance faster. Avoid detection.

  Keeping low, I sprinted to the building.

  The handle was rusty beneath my fingers. I took a deep breath and pulled the door open. It squeaked loudly – no chance of an entry by stealth. My stomach did a backflip. I stepped inside.

  The foyer was empty. I exhaled, disappointed. There was no sign of Dwayne Kip. From the looks of things there hadn’t been anyone staying at this motel for a very long time. The foyer looked like it had been ransacked – an old, boxy computer lay smashed beside an overturned desk, the drawers to a filing cabinet were open and curled papers littered the floor like brittle autumn leaves. The smell of mould and damp was overpowering.

  I stepped through the space towards the narrow corridor behind, quiet as I could. A dim light was coming from another doorway a little ways along the back wall. I figured that was where Dwayne Kip would be hiding. A few more steps and I’d been able to see inside, and if Dwayne was in there he’d be able to spot me too.

  This was the point of no return.

  I felt alert, high on the anticipation of finding my fugitive. My body was in full flight-or-fight mode, but there was no way I would be taking flight anytime soon. I was here to do a job, and I’d get it done whatever it took, that was for damn sure. It was the only way to prove myself.

  The walls of the corridor were stained with dark mould. The ceiling tiles had collapsed in a few places, leaving rusty pipes and electric wiring exposed. I slid my boots along the rotting floorboards and stepped carefully over the debris. Kept my eyes on the doorway.

  My breath was fast and shallow. My throat felt dry, and I fought the urge to cough. I tried hard not to let my nerves get the better of me.

  Pressing myself against the wall, I peered around the doorframe and into the room. A bulky guy was sitting on an upturned crate, his back towards me. He’d fixed up another crate as a makeshift table beside him. On it were a battery lamp, five beers and the remains of some kind of meal in a foil tray.

  ‘Quit sneaking around.’ His voice echoed in the gloom. ‘I know you’re hiding back there.’

  Damn.

  He put his beer down on the crate table. ‘I’m getting up. Don’t shoot me, for godsakes.’

  I held my ground. Knew it was just him and me. It was time to find the truth: which of us was faster, which of us was smarter. It was time to find out if I was ready.

  I entered the room.

  Dwayne Kip turned. He was big, real big, with a shaved head and a crooked nose. As our eyes met he stopped frowning and raised an eyebrow. Laughed. ‘They sent a girl after me?’

  I clenched my fists. ‘A girl who’s going to take you in.’

  He stepped towards me. ‘Don’t think so, sweetheart, but I can imagine some other uses for you that’d sure be fun.’

  Anger sparked in my belly. He had no right to say a thing like that. Unfastening the cuffs from my belt, I moved towards him. ‘If you come nice, things can stay civil.’

  ‘I’m real sure I’ll come.’

  He winked at me, then lunged forward, shoving me into the wall. I smelt his beer-fumed breath. Felt his hand around my throat. Saw his grinning face leering as I struggled beneath his grip.

  He was stronger and rougher than I’d figured. My training sessions with JT hadn’t prepared me for that. I tried to stay calm and focus on his intent. Tried to read his next move. Needed to outsmart him.

  He leant in close, licking his lips. ‘About time I had me some—’

  I threw an uppercut. Landed it hard under his chin. He reeled backwards from the blow. Hadn’t been expecting me to fight back. I took my chance, hooked my right leg around his left and pulled.

  He twisted around, lashing out at my face. I ducked away from his fists. Needed to take advantage and get him cuffed fast.

  Grabbing for his arm, I remembered JT’s instruction: not to pause between cuffing each wrist … use one movement. As Dwayne jerked away, I went with him. He kicked back, his foot connecting with my shin, pushing me off balance. I felt the floorboard crack beneath my boot. Lost my footing.

  He pulled away. His intention was real easy to read, his focus was on the door – I couldn’t let him go. Had to finish cuffing him. Keeping hold of the cuffs, I moved after him. ‘Stop, I—’

  ‘Leave it.’ He slammed his fist into my stomach. Threw me to the ground. My hip caught the edge of the crate he’d been using as a table. Beer bottles smashed onto the floor. The lamp fell sideways, plunging the room into shadow.

  I landed heavy, pain vibrating through my belly and my hip, broken glass needling at my palms. I clenched my jaw. I wouldn’t give up. I kept a tight hold on the second handcuff and yanked it hard, using my weight to pull Dwayne down with me. I twisted as he hit the floor, and he took the force of the fall against his shoulder. Cursed.

  I didn’t hesitate. Used our momentum and his surprise to my advantage, rolling us sideways and forcing Dwayne onto his stomach. I straddled him, wrenching his cuffed arm high behind his back until he bellowed in fury. Using the pain as a distraction, I grabbed his other wrist, then pulled his cuffed arm down hard and shackled the two together.

  ‘Son-of-a-bitch.’ He struggled beneath me, but it wasn’t no good.

  ‘Dwayne Kip, you’re coming with me. Your bondsman, Lenny Curran, is mighty pissed you missed your court date. It’s time the two of you had a little chat.’

  I’d done it, cuffed him, and so I thought I’d gotten him beat. That was a rookie mistake. As I leant forward over him, getting ready to stand, he made his move – clasped his fists together and jacked them up into my face, hitting my nose. I heard the sinews around the bone pop, felt warm blood on my upper lip. My eyes watered and the motel room went out of focus.

  Shoving me aside, Dwayne was up and running for the door before my vision had cleared. I hadn’t been prepared for him to keep fighting. I’d made the assumption that once the cuffs were on he’d think it was over. I’d been wrong. Now I had to get him back.

  Staggering to my feet, I forced my jello-like legs to run, chasing Dwayne out of the room, along the hall, dodging the fallen ceiling tiles and other debris as we sprinted towards the exit.

  The distance between us was widening. My breath came in gasps. I needed to do something to stop him. Fast.

  He sprinted through the foyer. Reached the door.

  Wrestling my Taser from its holster, I pointed it at Dwayne. I felt a moment of doubt; I’d only tasered trees before, and Dwayne was jumping around a whole lot more than they ever had.

  ‘Stop, or I’ll fire.’

  He turned to face me as he pulled the door open. ‘I doubt that sweetheart.’

  JT had told me using a weapon was a measure of last resort. I figured this situation qualified.

  I pulled the trigger. Saw Dwayne’s shock as the probes hit his chest, piercing the thin fabric of his tee-shirt and driving into his flesh; and then the pain as the volts kicked in, vibrating through his body, disrupting his nervous system.

  He was still looking at me as he hit the floor, his
body jerking and flapping around like a landed fish, and a dark stain spreading across the front of his pants.

  I stood, watching him. The force had been necessary, but I wasn’t sorry that it was kind of a punishment too. Dwayne was guilty of three counts of theft and one of assault. He’d punched a sixty-eight-year-old woman in the face without a care, and now he’d just got himself beat by a girl. It seemed like a poetic kind of justice to me.

  I was damned sure he’d never call me sweetheart again.

  JT wasn’t so happy that I’d taken a job alone as my first gig, but he couldn’t deny I’d got the right result. He hadn’t said much since I’d arrived back at the cabin – not that he said all that much anyways – but after I’d got myself cleaned up, he fetched two beers from the refrigerator to toast my first success and told me I’d done a good job.

  We sat on the battered leather couch and drank our beers in silence. After near on ten minutes I knew it was going to have to be me who made the first move.

  I glanced at JT. ‘You’re awful quiet. What’s eating you?’

  ‘You were reckless. That’s how folks in this business get dead.’

  I nodded. Knew he was right. ‘Still, I caught the fugitive.’

  JT smiled that crooked smile of his. ‘That you did.’

  I looked at him. There was something behind his smile; tightness in his jaw, tension around his eyes. ‘But?’

  The smile vanished, a frown taking its place. ‘Next time, we do the job together. You’ve a lot more to learn. Technique and practice can only get you so far. You need to pay your dues in the field; make mistakes – because you will make them, everyone does – and stay alive to learn from them. If you’re with me, you’ve got a better chance of doing that.’

  Interesting. For a man with a reputation for always working alone he sure seemed real keen for me to work alongside him. I held his gaze as I thought on his words. Knew I might have believed I’d had it hard in my training fights, but Dwayne Kip had taught me that the real world was a whole other ballgame. Still, I had it in me to do the job. I was sure of that now.