Troop of Shadows

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  The man guffawed again. Dani imagined the laughter changing to a wet gurgle as she sliced his throat.

  “We got us a deal!”

  “A few boxes of ammo for each, Bill? Just to be neighborly?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I got plenty. I’ll probably be dead long before I go through it anyway.”

  An hour later, they were ten miles farther north on I35 and ten miles away from Bill of Bill’s Guns, which made Dani happy. The added weight of the firearms and ammunition slowed their progress, but it was a price they gladly paid. The highway had become less congested, which meant they could switch to a motorized method of transportation if they could find something suitable.

  “I saw a sign for an outlet mall coming up,” she yelled back at Fergus. “I bet we could find a place to stay for the night.”

  “Sounds good to me! My ass is killing me. I feel like the new boy in cell block 4!”

  Soon after, the threesome pedaled into the parking lot of a large mall. Dani had never been to it before; mostly because she hated shopping, shopping malls, and shopping mall shoppers.

  The sun hung low on the horizon. The mental and physical demands of the day made her more weary than she’d ever felt. Everything ached, but her backside was particularly agonizing. This bicycling nonsense was for the birds. She would figure out a way to tell her friend that it was time to trade in their kinetic two-wheeled transportation for four wheels powered by long-dead dinosaurs.

  The sight of a Super 8 motel sign just past the bulk of the shopping center filled her with joy.

  “Screw camping. Let’s check in there for the night.”

  Fergus moaned, “Ugh, another half mile. My derriere can’t handle this abuse!”

  “Suck it up, sissy boy. We’ll be sleeping in beds tonight.”

  The two-story building was painted a garish yellow but otherwise appeared promising. There were no signs of vandalism and no busted-out windows were visible from the parking lot where they now stood.

  “Should we try to get the keys from the lobby?”

  “Wouldn’t do any good, Sam,” Fergus replied. “Everything is electronic key cards these days. We’ll have to break in. Which room strikes your fancy, girly? 101 or 201? Are you an upstairs or a downstairs kind of girl?” The bushy red eyebrows waggled.

  “I’m a whatever takes the least amount of energy kind of girl. What will we do? Bust the window or the doorknob?”

  “The window, I think.” He took the butt of the new assault rifle and broke the glass pane of room 101, then did the same next door.

  “Two rooms or three?” he asked. The red beard twitched.

  “Three,” she said. “We’re just friends, if that’s what you want to know.”

  Sam suddenly became interested in a crow flying overhead.

  “None of my business. I’m just doing my job here.” He busted a third window.

  Dani reached for the lock through the broken glass. Moments later, she was inside. Her flashlight revealed a tidy room with a king size bed. The bed was adorned with a horrendous gold bedspread, but the pillows looked good enough to eat. She opened the door and stepped out into the cool October evening. Sam and Fergus still stood there, looking like little boys caught peeing on the neighbor’s rosebush.

  “What’s going on here, guys?”

  “Nothing,” Sam said, not meeting her eyes. “We were just talking about supper and maybe starting a fire.”

  “Really? You look guilty. What was with all that BS earlier? The democrat thing and the story about your dad? How did you know it would soften up that sexist jerk so well? Pretty quick thinking, my friend.”

  He smiled, happy to change the subject. The setting sun created a golden halo around his face, and the sweet shit-eating grin was adorable. As she watched his animated face, her eyes slid to the tight-fitting t-shirt he wore, noting how it defined the contours of his chest and shoulder muscles. While he talked, her gaze fluttered down to his cargo pants. She became alarmed when she realized she’d just been wondering what her best friend looked like without his clothes.

  She hoped the warmth that flooded her cheeks wasn’t too visible in the dimming light.

  “I knew a guy once who was just like Bill. He was a big gun lover and hated everyone who wasn’t just like himself, especially Democrats and mouthy women.” Sam’s grin went from cute to gleeful, as he waited for Dani’s reaction.

  She punched him in the arm, harder than she’d intended to; perhaps retaliating for more than just the remark. The last thing she needed was to develop feelings for Sam. It would make everything more complicated.

  “Ouch! Dang, Dani, you hit hard.”

  With an evil smirk, she watched him rub the injured arm, noticing his long, tapered fingers as they wrapped around the bicep.

  Sonofabitch!

  “Okay,” she said quickly, banishing further unwelcome thoughts. “What’s the deal with dinner? Are we going to build a bonfire so every crazy gun store owner and Hillary-loving liberal within a five mile radius can spot us?”

  Fergus snorted. “How about a discreet fire in a metal trashcan? Just enough to take the chill off our splendid cuisine.”

  She nodded. “And don’t forget, you owe us The Story of Fergus. You gave your word.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  An hour later, they had a small blaze going in a barbecue grill they’d discovered at the back of the hotel property. Night had fallen, and three foil packets warmed on the rusty grate. A portable battery-operated lantern cast just enough light to see by.

  They sat at a wooden picnic table next to the grill, each holding a plastic hotel cup filled with one finger of whiskey. Fergus had produced the flask from the interior of his army-green jacket. Dani had begun to wonder if it were some sort of sartorial TARDIS...roomier on the inside than it appeared on the outside.

  “Is this a magic coat?” She tugged his sleeve with a sly smile. “Are you a mythical creature from the Old Country who hordes gold and grants wishes?”

  “If I were, I’d be six foot two, have an enormous dong, and golden hair like Sam’s that all the women would want to run their fingers through.”

  “Fair enough. So, let’s hear it then.”

  The small man gave a dramatic sigh. “You’re like a honey badger. You get your teeth into something and never let go.”

  She nodded.

  “Well then, since we don’t have all night and I’m dog tired, I’ll make it quick. You’re half right. My great grandparents emigrated from Ireland, thus the red hair and unfortunate name. ‘Fergus’ and my diminutive size were two things the playground bullies couldn’t resist. So after high school, I joined the military to learn a trade and also how to kick ass, which I did. I can’t give you any details about my service because then I would have to kill you — top secret, black ops shit.” He winked at Sam, who was happy to be the one-member audience at the Fergus and Dani show.

  “I knew it was something like that! So, you’re one of those badass motherfuckers? Navy SEAL? Army Ranger?”

  “Correction, was one of those badass motherfuckers.”

  “What did you do after?”

  “I did what most people with a certain specialized skill set do after they’re discharged. I started a private security company.”

  “What about family? Wife? Tiny offspring?”

  Fergus snorted. “You are relentless. It’s a good thing I have thick skin and have taken a liking to you. Yes, I was married for ten years, until she decided to run off with her tennis instructor. How’s that for a cliché?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been painful,” Sam said.

  “Not as painful as giving her half of everything I’d been working for while she lunched with the girls and screwed some gigolo.”

  “Sounds like a real bitch,” Dani said, experiencing a surge of protectiveness for her new friend.

  “Yes, she was indeed, but she had perfect tits and a fanny you could bounce a dime off.”

  Dani lau
ghed. “You’re such a pig.”

  “That I am, but I’m a charming pig.”

  “So that’s it? The Story of Fergus seems suspiciously succinct. What are you leaving out, little man?”

  “Sorry to disappoint, Honey Badger. I’m afraid to say that I’m just not as fascinating as you’d like me to be. Trust me, I wish I were.”

  “Okay. I have just one more question: How do you get your hair to do that?”

  He feigned a wounded expression.

  “My hair is lovely! You are a hard woman, Dani whateveryourlastnameis. I’ll have you know I cultivated this unique look. It’s no accident that I have a personal style not soon forgotten. This stunning coif coupled with quiet confidence and backed by mad skills made me a rich man back in the day.”

  “I’m sure all that’s true, but perhaps it’s time to embrace a new style...one that whispers ‘please don’t notice me, all you would-be murderers’ instead of one that screams ‘I have issues and want to stand out in a crowd which would require the use of a step stool.’”

  “Oh, I will make you pay for that, missy. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but you can take that to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

  Dinner was soon over and the exhausted trio stumbled to their rooms.

  Dani woke up some time later in her darkened motel room, disoriented and foggy, with the impression that a noise had roused her from sleep. Her fingers fumbled for the K-Bar which she always kept within reach. An icy wave washed over her when she realized it was gone.

  A familiar, deep honeyed voice said, “Looking for your knife?”

  She didn’t have to see the face to know who it belonged to. She closed her eyes tight against the inevitable flashlight beam which illuminated her the next moment.

  “Yes, Isaiah, and I’d like it back, please.” She forced herself to remain calm while her mind raced. Did they have Sam and Fergus? Had they found the loaded Cattleman in the bedside table?

  “If you’re wondering about your toys, we were compelled to confiscate them. Such a bad girl doesn’t deserve to have nice things.”

  Her eyelids were still clamped shut but she could imagine the toothy grin.

  She was in a world of trouble.

  “Poor Sam, he put up quite a fight.”

  Dani’s heart leaped to her throat.

  “What have you done with him, you fucker?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  Isaiah made a clicking sound of disapproval. “Such language. I find it coarse and offensive. I think I shall forbid such vulgar verbiage in my empire. I envision a polite, refined society where words are used like the scalpel of a skillful surgeon rather than the cudgel of a clumsy cretin.”

  Oh, Jesus. Again with the alliteration.

  “If you’ve hurt him, I will cudgel your crazy fucking cranium until it’s caved fucking in.”

  The deep laughter resonated in the small room.

  “I can appreciate crudity when it’s cleverly conveyed.”

  Dani imagined the obsidian eyes glowing with insanity. Hers remained closed.

  Isaiah’s demeanor changed to one of brusque impatience. “Your gentleman friend is not dead, but if you don’t behave I can assure you he will become that way quite soon. Put your hands above your head and stand up slowly. Any sudden movements will not only result in your untimely demise but Sam’s as well. Hurry now. We have other business to attend to on this night.”

  She had no choice. She did as she was instructed, as her mind rifled through a dozen possible escape scenarios, all of which ended in the evisceration of this psychopath.

  She felt her arms being jerked down in front of her while a second person zip-tied her wrists together. Someone turned off the flashlight. She opened her eyes as she was pushed through the motel door and out into a night in which starlight was obscured by scuttling clouds.

  Sam stood nearby, his wrists also bound by zip ties. Three bland-faced followers held him. The only way they could have accomplished this was by catching him asleep. One of his eyes was beginning to swell shut, and blood, which appeared oily and brown in the darkness, was smeared on his face. At the sight of his injuries, a cold rage blossomed in Dani’s chest. Frantic thoughts coalesced into lethally focused, strategic calculations.

  Where the hell was Fergus?

  That mystery wasn’t allowed to intrude for long. She would handle this fine without him.

  Isaiah spoke, “You disappoint me so. I thought we had an understanding. What a shame. Well, there is only one way to deal with deserters, and I feel certain you can guess what that might be. But first, you must tell me the location of your other companion. Someone was in the room next to Sam’s, but he is no longer there. Tell me where he is and my soldiers will give you a quick death. If you’re uncooperative, it will be protracted and painful.”

  Dani refused to allow the verbal theatrics to infringe on her heightened state of concentration.

  “We don’t know where he is.” Sam had trouble formulating words with lips that were swelling as badly as his eye.

  She took deep, cleansing breaths.

  “Tsk, tsk. I had a feeling that might be your answer,” he said, then slammed his fist into Sam’s stomach. Her best friend doubled over with a groan.

  She watched, blocking an emotional response and willing her rage to stay cold.

  “What do you say, Dani? Do you know where this mysterious third person is?”

  “You know, you’re not as clever as you think you are,” she said, her voice measured and calm. She kept her eyes on Sam as she spoke. He stood as straightly as his tender belly would permit, and returned her gaze with the tiniest of nods.

  Isaiah took the bait. The most effective way to prevail in an encounter such as this was to make the other person angry and therefore careless. The best way to anger a narcissistic sociopath was to question his intelligence.

  “What is that supposed to mean, young lady? Who are the captives here?”

  “You made three fatal errors, dumbass. Seriously, I thought you were way smarter, you big douche bag.”

  The honeyed voice was gone. “How dare you, you little bitch!”

  The fury in his voice made her smile.

  She moved like a viper, raising her wrists above her head then slamming them in a downward motion toward and against her torso, causing the plastic to snap. Sam’s action mirrored hers a half second later.

  The rest was just a matter of using the element of surprise, exhaustive martial arts training, and the fact that she could see much more clearly in the dark than her assailants, whose night vision had been compromised by the flashlight.

  None of them were expecting the shit storm of fists-to-throats and boots-to-groins that followed. Even injured, Sam took down all three of his captors — two young males and a middle-aged female — and had a knife pressed against Isaiah’s neck by the time Dani had dealt with her two. Five people lay on the pavement in various states of agony or unconsciousness.

  Sam was a fucking ninja. She’d known it, but Isaiah hadn’t.

  There was no smile on his face now, and the eyes glowed with malevolence and madness.

  “Number one, you underestimated your opponents. I can only assume you did so because we chose not to fight you in Colleyville.”

  The dark eyes narrowed. Sam shifted the blade more firmly against Isaiah’s throat. A few wet drops bubbled out below it. The sight warmed her heart.

  “Secondly, you tied our wrists in the front. Granted, we could have escaped even with our hands bound from the back, but it would have taken us longer and therefore diminished our chances of prevailing. We’ve practiced the zip tie snap countless times. I think you could say we have it down.”

  She grinned at his expression of sheer loathing.

  “Thirdly, you let your eyes lose their night vision. It was a stupid mistake and frankly...disappointing. I expected, I don’t know, more of a challenge from you. Tsk, tsk.”

  She punched him in the stomach just
as he’d done to Sam minutes before. When he bent over from the blow, she forced his head down to the pavement with her foot.

  A familiar voice called out of the dark. “Have I missed all the fun?” Fergus walked toward them gripping the enormous machete-like knife.

  “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. Went for a little walkabout. Next thing I know, I hear the distinct thud of falling bodies. Looks like you two handled the situation without my help though. Remind me not to piss you off.” He contemplated the man on the asphalt, who remained motionless with Dani’s foot pinning the back of his neck.

  “Your timing sucks. Secure these fuckers. You’ll find zip ties in their gear somewhere. Put their arms behind their backs.”

  “Happy to oblige.”

  “Now, what to do with this crazy motherfucker?” She shifted more weight onto the vulnerable neck. “I’m thinking protracted and painful. He’s a history buff, so maybe something medieval like a good old draw and quartering. Wonder if we can get our hands on four sturdy horses?”

  Fergus snorted.

  “Do you happen to have a Pear of Anguish in your magical jacket, Lucky Charms?”

  Isaiah growled in frustration.

  “Ah, I see you’re acquainted with that devilishly delightful device.”

  “What’s a Pear of Anguish?” Sam asked, but through his swollen lips it came out: Waz a paw of angwiz?

  Dani smiled as she pondered the misery she would inflict on the person responsible for the injuries done to that kind face.

  Nobody hurt Sam.

  “Imagine a metal, pear-shaped object with a large screw at the top comprised of several sections. It was inserted into the vaginas of women who performed abortions and into the mouths of liars and blasphemers. Homosexuals got it in the anus. The gadget would be unscrewed, slowly spreading apart inside the orifice, causing extreme pain, mutilation, and for some, really messy future bowel movements.”

  Fergus guffawed. “Oh, Honey Badger, you are a gem.”

  “I don’t think we should torture him,” Sam said.

  “Fine, we’ll just kill him then.”

  “I don’t think we should do that either. Can’t we just leave him here?”