Pipe Dreams (10 page)

CHAPTER 19

I
n the library, Jeremy eased
into his favorite chair. His problems were overwhelming. He had a shell-shocked woman, a dead rabbi, a runaway cop, a junkie in withdrawal, a missing or dead girl, a throbbing foot, and an injured best friend. Sighing, he massaged his temples. His quest had become a nightmare. Had he not pushed so hard for the information he believed would bring salvation, none of this would have happened. The damage the cell had suffered was his fault.

Mariah
’s daughter, Lindsay, lay on the carpet next to him, working her way through a thick book. She was a pretty little girl with short, dark hair and Mariah’s dimples. Looking up at him, she smiled shyly before going back to her text. As her small, bare foot kicked air, the lines of one of Michael’s favorite poems came back to him.

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.

The verse was strangely comforting
. In it, he glimpsed what Michael loved about poetry, but, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who wrote it. Sighing, he lifted his leg and brought his foot into the light. Mariah had flushed the wound earlier with soapy water and doused it with rubbing alcohol. Jeremy removed the bandages she had applied, and inspected it. Though tender and red, the puncture was clean.

Exhaustion seized him and it took most of his willpower to redo what she had done so easily this morning. He grimaced as he pulled himself upright. The small exertion was Herculean, but he had no choice. Ashley needed his help.

As he placed weight on the injured foot, he groaned in pain. He would not be on any rescue mission tonight. He grabbed his crutches, limped across the room, and pushed aside the curtained entrance to the private quarters. “Ramirez!” he bellowed down the hall. “Time to go!” Satisfied the cop would follow, he hobbled to the kitchen where the other men had gathered.

When Ramirez arrived, they used dishes to sketch the area around the firehouse, bringing the cop up to speed on the territory. After the discussion, they agreed on a plan. Ramirez and Mark would approach the firehouse from the front while Paul and Jon took the rear. Two other men would stand watch on nearby roofs. With luck, Ashley would still be inside. At the door, Jeremy unbuckled his belt to remove Ramirez
’s holster and gun.

“Use it if you have to,” he said. Ramirez met his eyes and nodded.

“If she’s there, we’ll bring her back.”

On the street, the men jogged in a group until they arrived at the gas station. From there, they split into different teams. Ramirez and Mark eased into position. Once in place, they waited for the signal from the men on the roofs.

The night was close around them and the moonless sky cast little light, making the quiet streets even more menacing. When a low whistle trilled, Ramirez reminded himself not to be a hero. He tapped Mark on the shoulder and they crept closer to the firehouse. As they neared their goal, the bay door opened. They froze, pressing themselves flat against a wall.

When an
engine started, Ramirez dropped to the ground. His eyes widened as a large cargo van pulled onto the street. Without headlights, the vehicle was a dark silhouette. It turned away from him, merged with the night, and disappeared.

He waited several minutes before crawling on his belly toward the open door. Mark panted behind him
as they slithered into the building. Only their heavy breathing echoed in the cavernous room. Pulling themselves upright, they explored the first floor, opening doors and straining their eyes against the darkness. When their efforts yielded nothing, Ramirez led them up the stairs to the second floor dormitory. Their slow and clumsy reconnaissance was fruitless. As he had suspected, all the rooms were empty. The hunters and their prey were in the van.

Returning to the street, they retreated to the gas station where they met up with the rooftop sentries. Finally Jon joined them, reporting that Paul had gone in pursuit of the van. Ramirez quickene
d, elated by Jon’s news, and the small group settled in to wait for Paul’s return.

In the distance, a baby cried. Ramirez pictured the mother huddled in a dark room with a child at her breast, willing him to suck and sleep so she could rest. She would be glad the child drained her body of what little resources it had. He would grow fat while she shriveled. Soon, he would be too big for the rats to attack.

Ramirez shuddered. Where did they come from and where did they go, those lost ones, discarded and unwanted, who haunted the streets by day and disappeared in the night?  Most would be dead by spring, their rotting bodies laid out like a feast for young rodents and beasts. Summer would bring a fresh, new crop of the Fallen – cast out because they were old, weak, or simply unwilling to play the new game that, for all its bluster, was no more than a reworked version of what had always been.

His thoughts turned to Jeremy and the warm, comfortable basement the cell called home. Somehow, the cell had bucked the rules. Grappling with circumstances designed to breed violence and self-destruction, the Fallen were supposed to be starved and desperate. Yet, by current standards, Jeremy
’s people thrived. If they had managed to organize, others had likely done the same. Could the Fallen be unwitting players in a shadow game? If not, why did the NSO permit them to congregate? 

And what about the bone people? What he had witnessed tonight baffled him. Somehow, the savage gang had managed a vehicle and the gas to propel it. Nobody had access to fuel except the police, the official transportation department, and the administrators themselves.

The gang also had access to drugs. Blondie’s track marks and ugly withdrawal proved that. Where were the drugs coming from and who had the wherewithal to procure them?  It didn’t make sense unless….

“Holy shit!” Ramirez blurted. He grabbed the man sitting next to him. “Mark, stay here. Wait for Paul. If he
’s not back by dawn, get back to the basement. I’ve got to talk to Jeremy.”

“No, man. Can
’t do that. Jeremy would kill me if I stayed out by myself tonight. Paul will find his own way back. I’m coming with you.”

Ramirez nodded. The men rose simultaneously and jogged toward the Gate.

CHAPTER 20

Jeb sat in the passenger
seat, working a pimple on his chin. When he felt it pop, he wiped his fingers and snorted. Lewis would be pleased. They had done well on the hunt. Two of the three quivering bodies in back were young, juicy, and sweet – better than the half-starved hags he usually found.

If he didn
’t think Lewis would want her for himself, he would do the girl right now. That one had some fight in her and she was a looker, but Lewis had been clear. Nobody got touched until he had a chance to look them over. Jeb made sure the orders were followed. Until something else opened up, Lewis was their only gig. He might be an asshole, but he always delivered and his product was the best Jeb had ever had.

Scratching the peeling paint on his sweaty chest, Jeb anticipated the warm bath waiting for him at the crib. He hadn
’t expected to be out this late, but damn if Tic Tac didn’t go disappearing on him. The prick was either back at the crib enjoying a fix or he had gotten into trouble. Either way, Jeb couldn’t wait any longer. He poked the driver with a pudgy finger, telling him to hurry. The man didn’t deign to glance in Jeb’s direction. His eyes, obscured by military style night-vision goggles, focused on the road.

Pulling his hand back, Jeb fidgeted. The chauffeur was dressed entirely in black. Bulging muscles rippled under his tight shirt every time he moved. Though Jeb had tried to engage him on several occasions, the attempt was futile. The chauffeur showed up, delivered his packages, and left as silently as he came. Though Jeb would never admit it, the man frightened him. Twisting his head around, Jeb caught the sullen expression on Pinky
’s face.

“What
’s your problem?” he asked.

“Can
’t believe you left him out there,” Pinky squeaked in his child-like voice.

“What and you wanna stay out there all night? Me, I
’m gonna get my kit and disappear in a nice, hot bath. Tic Tac’s fine. He’s probably waitin’ for us, high and happy and laughin’ his ass off ’bout our loyalty and shit! Hey Pinky, kick the cage and shut dem bitches up.” Pinky turned his head, fathoming the dark recess of the van. Then his foot shot out, rattling the metal cage that held the prisoners. The whimpering ceased.

When the van finally pulled to a stop, Jeb hollered for his boys and waited impatiently while they opened the rear doors. After they hauled the terrified cargo into the building, he climbed up to the crib instead of taking the basement stairs. The itch had become a raging burn. Everything could wait except his fix.

Later, after euphoria had settled into a mellow high, Jeb emerged from the bathroom pink and dripping. He padded to the bedroom he shared with his woman and crawled under the covers. Ignoring the baby sleeping soundly against her breast, he pressed himself against her back, squeezing her buttocks with one hand while fondling himself with the other. She groaned and pushed him away, but Jeb didn’t stop. Instead he ground himself against her until he climaxed. Then he rolled over, put his feet on the floor, and pulled on dirty boxers. Slipping his feet into a pair of old flip-flops, he went to check on his prey.

The boys had done their job well. The fresh catch was ensconced in the oversized, portable dog kennel they had bolted into the floor when Lewis first recruited them. The captives were naked, their heads had been shaved, and they had been hosed down thoroughly. Lewis didn
’t want any of them carrying lice.

Jeb
’s men enjoyed the cleaning protocol, especially when the catch contained women. He didn’t mind if the boys had a little fun, as long as they didn’t go far enough to get Lewis on his back. Judging by the terror on the faces in the kennel, the prisoners had provided plenty of entertainment tonight. He picked up a length of pipe and trailed it along the thick wire as he walked around the cage. The three captives huddled together in the center.

He chuckled as he pushed the pipe through a small opening, prodding at one and then another. Watching them wiggle away was almost as much fun as catching them. When he stuck the girl, she squealed. Delighted, he poked her again. The girl jumped to avoid him. He ran to the other side of the kennel and pushed the pole at her, but this time, instead of backing away, she grabbed it and tugged
hard. The motion caught him off-guard and he laughed uproariously. Lewis was going to be very, very pleased with this one, he thought as she glared at him, her eyes flashing with rage. Jeb gave the cage one last rattle before climbing the stairs.

Ashley seethed, gripping the wire so hard her fingers turned white. Gathering what moisture she could from her dry mouth, she spit at his back. After he had gone, she paced the small enclosure. When they grabbed her, she had fought against them, but was too small to be effective. At first, she had been afraid they would eat her and kept conjuring images from a book she had read about a man and his son after a nuclear war.

She had changed her mind about their objective after the men carried her out of the van and put her through the disgusting ordeal. They had tied her to the cage and taken turns lewdly soaping every inch of her body. Then they had shaved her. They could have raped her, but they didn’t, which didn’t make sense if they were cannibals. Her confusion muted terror. Fury replaced fear. She wanted to kill them, especially the man with the pole.

Grateful he had left the lights on, she examined her jail. Heavy wire panels, framed by thick, metal pipes, fit together to form four walls and a roof. Fastened by a chain and padlock, the door did not budge when she shook it. Several small, steel rings secured the panels to each other. The rings were bolted together with the nuts on the outside of the cage. She wedged her fingers through a gap in the wire, but didn
’t have the leverage to turn them. Frustrated, she sank onto the floor. Escape was impossible.

Ashley
’s two companions did not share her rage. One was an older woman whose bones stuck out against her skin like a chair beneath wet clothes. With her arms crossed over sagging breasts, she stared at the floor and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. The other was a young boy. Ashley guessed him to be about ten. Curled into a ball, his eyes were tightly closed. He sucked his thumb, not making a sound.

She stared at him, enthralled. His dark skin and infantile posture reminded her of something, yet she couldn
’t place it. Then an image of Jeremy popped into her head. Jeremy wouldn’t huddle on the floor. He would have a plan. She hugged herself, fighting off the shivers, and remembered when Jeremy had found her. It had been cold. Her mother had vanished, leaving her young, frightened, and alone. Jeremy had saved her, brought her home, and introduced her to the cell.

Through the years, he had maintained a steady presence in her life. On the days he could, he read to the kids, always stressing the importance of education. Ashley had loved those times, stretched out on the rug after dinner. His voice had carried her away and she had gotten lost in the stories.

Her favorite character was from
Uncle Remus
. Br’er Rabbit was always getting into trouble, but he always got out of it because he was smarter than the other animals. His escapades made her laugh. Jeremy liked the story of
The Wishing
Well
best. She remembered his deep voice repeating, “Some goes up ’n some goes down. Dat’s da way de world goes round.”

Then it struck her. The boy curled up on the floor reminded her of the tar baby. A small smile lit her face as she silently thanked Jeremy for his unintentional gift. Okay, she thought, now I just have to figure out where the briar patch is. Planning possible escapes, she conjured Jeremy
’s expression when she returned to the basement unharmed. The thoughts comforted her and she closed her eyes.

The urge to pee woke her. Was it still night, or had morning dawned?  The lights in the windowless room made it impossible to tell how much time had passed. The boy had rolled from his spot at the center of the cage, revealing a small floor drain. Stiff with cold, Ashley stretched before crouching over it to relieve herself. Her head ached and she ran regretful fingers across its smooth surface. The loss of her hair was worse than the absence of clothes.

Footsteps on the stairs made her jump. Ashley turned as two men descended into the basement. Sluggish and slow, one of the men unlocked the cage. He hefted a pitchfork and poked it toward the captives while the other set the pails he carried inside the opening. They backed out of the kennel, secured the chain, and left the room.

Ashley stepped over her sleeping companions to explore the contents of the offering. One contained water. She cupped her hands and dipped them into the pail. After quenching her thirst, she examined the second. It held three small, plastic containers, each filled with mushy oatmeal. Using the lid as a spoon, Ashley devoured the flavorless food.

As she finished licking the empty container, she heard a noise. Turning, she saw the boy peeing through a gap in the metal wire. The urine splashed on the rough, concrete floor, forming a small puddle. Ashley averted her eyes. When he joined her in front of the buckets, she passed him a container and introduced herself. They chatted briefly, but then he fell silent, sucking his thumb.

The other woman still hadn
’t stirred. Ashley picked up the remaining food and carried it to her. At her gentle shaking, the woman opened her rheumy eyes and glared balefully. “Come on. You’ve got to eat,” Ashley coaxed. The woman remained mute. Eventually, Ashley gave up. Her courage faded and she succumbed to foreboding. Sinking to the floor, she rested her back against the cage, pulled her knees up, and laid her head in her arms.