Reckoning ~ Indian Hill 2 ~ A Michael Talbot Adventure (43 page)

“Listen! If it’s money, I’ve got some stashed!” he said excitedly, hoping for a possible escape from this dilemma.

“Hush, son, I never said nothing ‘bout no money. I asked you a direct question. I expect a direct answer." The sergeant’s hope quickly deflated.

“She didn’t make it,” he said with grim resignation.

“Pity,” the old man said as he began the long, drawn-out process of constricting his brittle body into the confines of the ancient vehicle.

***

“Five of them, Frank! They’re going to blow the lid off this place!” Major Salazar sat across from Paul, far removed from the dirt and dust that choked his lungs and sullied his skin. He had cuts, scrapes and bruises covering most of his body, everything hurt, yet he tried not to show it.

“I take it, then, we haven’t heard anything from our long range scouts?”

“Nothing.”

Paul sat back down, a dejected look on his face. “All that we’ve gained here is going to be lost in a matter of days.”

Major Salazar could only nod his head; he didn’t have any answers either.

***

Bennett had fully prepared to surrender when he looked up from his pillaged sleeping bag to see the five uniformed men looking down on him. “I was just getting ready to come back to face my justice,” he sniveled. The expressions on the men’s faces changed to bewilderment. Bennett smelled hope.

“You’re n-n-n-not looking for me?”

“We don’t even know who you are,” one of the dirtier fellows answered. “We just need a place to stay for a day or two and some food, if you have any extra.”

Bennett was so relieved that, for a moment, he actually forgot how small and greedy he was. He showed his guests to the enormous pantry of wares he had been stealing from anywhere and everywhere.

Chapter 47 – Mike Journal Entry Twelve
             

The days melted away as I prepared for the upcoming bout. I was now running ten miles in the morning before I even began my daily workout. Durgan had not come to visit me in over two days. I think my rapid improvement was unnerving him somewhat, probably not enough for him to physically register, maybe on a subconscious level though. Or maybe I never took enough psych classes and he really just didn’t give a shit about me. I chose to believe the former as opposed to the latter. It felt better.

The sheer hatred I felt for the man bubbled to the surface with every waking moment. I relived every murder I’d seen him commit. Along with the “vitamins,” this was what impelled me to win. I once vowed to avenge those women’s murders and now it was time to collect.

There was only a day and a half ‘til D-Day and the three hundred and seventy-five pounds wasn’t going to lift itself. I had nearly wrapped up my routine when I heard the familiar sound of the shield to my abode being lowered. Durgan walked in, as if he owned the place.

“Did you know I stayed here while you were gone?” he said conversationally. I didn’t know how to respond and he wasn’t looking for that anyway. “I wanted to see how the great champion lived,” he added mockingly as he spread out his arms and twirled once around.

I sat up from my workout bench, keeping a wary eye on him. The man was psychotic; and I couldn’t afford a sucker-punch right now, any injury might hinder any abilities I would need. He advanced a step or two; when he realized I wasn’t going to let him approach unnoticed, he seemed to lose interest in that endeavor.

“Did you know that I had a 4.0 GPA in Chemical Engineering at C.U. when I went to that concert? Did you?” I guess now he was looking for some sort of answer from me.

“I…I didn’t know that.” This great ape was almost a rocket scientist! I guess that made sense. They say that the most brilliant geniuses are a hair’s breadth away from insanity. This ship had been the catalyst that triggered his journey into the abyss.

I thought that maybe if I kept talking to him, quite possibly, he might open up to me. Who knows? Crazier things had happened. “Chemical Engineering, huh?” I sounded lame but I didn’t know how else to approach the guy. He had, thus far, never shown a human side. I didn’t think he was even capable. “What made you decide on that major?”

“Listen, Mike, I’m not trying to get all touchy-feely with you. I just wanted to let you know that I have an incredible brain to go with this near perfect body, that’s all. So don’t go trying to psychoanalyze me. I was always an outcast on Earth. Let’s just say my people skills were for shit. I found my true calling up here.” A light began to shine in his eyes as he began to recount all his victories.

“This place was made for me. When I killed my first opponent, it was the first time I ever truly felt alive. It was nothing like the cats I used to kill when I was a kid. Sure, that was enjoyable and all, but nothing compared to the rush of my blade hitting home. That shudder of the knife as it scraped against his bones… The way his eyes first bulged in shock and terror and then began to dim with the realization of the inevitable. I thought I was going to burst out in tears with the sheer joy of it all.”

“Durgan I knew you were sick before you opened your mouth, but I had no idea of the depth to which your insanity had plunged,” I answered. Horror invaded me like no other time before in my life. The men in the ring were, for the most part maniacal but that was probably because of the situation they found themselves in. This bastard actually relished the idea of the competitions. My words did little, if anything, to curb his rant; he continued as if I weren’t even there. I think his speech was more for his own benefit than mine, anyway. He was, without a doubt, an egomaniac.

“I think my parents suspected something about me, after our third cat ‘disappeared.’ We stopped getting animals. We did get a couple of fish but they weren’t nearly as fun to fillet live. Their mouths would just gape open for a few seconds and that was about it. No screaming or howling. I don’t even think they knew they were dying, not like the cats anyway. The cats would put up one hell of a struggle.” He snorted.

“This one time I had to keep my stomach covered for a full week. Our second cat, Bonanza, scratched me real good. I’ve still got the scar.” He proceeded to raise his shirt to show me a razor thin mark that started a few inches below his right nipple, crossed over his belly button and dropped down another inch. “Yeah, that got me good.”

“I think you got him a little better.”

“Yeah, you’re right!” He laughed as he smacked my back. “Good one.” Apparently this brainiac wasn’t accustomed to sarcasm. “I’m glad to see that you’re looking a little bit more competitive-ready. I want my Earthly debut to be a grand event. I’ll be a star back home.”

“What makes you think that killing me on global television is going to make you a hero?” I intoned.

“Mike, don’t you get it? People love this crap. Why do you think that the news was so popular? Nobody wants to hear about the good Samaritan that helped some homeless man. Which, by the way, they always run at the very end of the newscast, if at all. They want to hear about the lead story. You know the one, where some sicko is stalking college girls and disposing of their used-up bodies by the side of the road. That’s what people tune in for. Sure, they’ll be shaking their heads when our event starts and lying to each other about how wrong and terrible it is. But nobody will turn it off. Oh no, my friend,” he said as he clasped my shoulder.

His eyes were focused a thousand yards down range. “Once the first drop of blood from you shoots out, they’ll be animals. Their heart rates will increase and their chests will rise and fall as adrenaline pumps through their muscles. More than likely, they’ll start rooting for you to kill that ‘bastard’. It will be amazing! I’ll bet they have odds going just like our friends here do. There may be a few ‘tree-huggers’ out there, who truly think this is an archaic display of barbarism. I can guarantee you one thing, they will be rare.”

“And when the cameras close in on your twitching and near lifeless body, people will almost be foaming at the mouth from the sheer thrill of it all. They’ll want more and more and I’ll promise them that. And for delivering that promise, they will hold parades for me. They’ll give me keys to cities. They’ll probably give me cities.”

“Durgan, you have lost it. They’re not going to love you for killing me. They are going to loathe you.”

“Loathe, love. They are almost interchangeable. Don’t you know that some of the biggest villains are the most revered people? Look at J.R. Ewing. People loved to hate him. Mike, look at Hitler. He slaughtered millions of people and they still write books about him. Countless people are still trying to start the Fourth Reich. Does that sound like lunacy? Think on that for a while, don’t dwell too long though,” Durgan said as he stood up and headed for the door. “You really shouldn’t spend too much of what little time you have left, pondering.” He laughed a small chuckle. He was almost through the beamed door when I yelled out to him.

“Durgan!” He turned. “I am going to kill you,” I stated as surely as if I told him the sky was blue. His face faltered for a millisecond, if that. I might have even imagined it.

“Yeah, right,” he answered as he passed through the door and the familiar humming of the force field around the door resumed.

Chapter 48

“Where are you taking us?” Beth wailed. Fear had reddened her eyes.

“Oh dearie,” the old crone said as she turned around. “Do be quiet, I think that your sergeant friend here already knows the answer. Beth turned towards Grady. She had been so busy wallowing in her own terror that she had not spared the occasion to look over at him. Meanwhile, he had paled to an ashen gray. All his life tones had bled out of his skin. He looked as terrified as she felt.

“Where are they taking us?” Beth said more quietly, trying not to panic and/or possibly push the sergeant over the edge.

“I think these are Corporal Mike Harris’ parents. They’re taking us back to the National Guard Post. That’s my guess,” the sergeant said listlessly.

“I’d kill ya’ myself, laddie,” the old man grumbled as he spared a glance through his rearview mirror. “Luckily for you, I don’t believe much in the vigilante way of life. I figure you’ll get a fair trial and then you’ll get shot for treason.”

The old lady looked back with venom in her eyes. Beth could never imagine the lady baking apple pies for, much less winning, the Belchertown Blue Ribbon twice, if she was to be believed. Right now, she looked as mean as a rattlesnake on meth and probably twice as venomous.

“We’ve lost two sons, Sergeant, before you shot our Mikey in the leg. He’s all the reason we have to live, except of course, for catching the man that maimed him. We figured you’d be too smart to come back into the state the regular ways and we were right, weren’t we, Mary Helen?”

He grinned a wide, mostly toothless smile, but it was humorless. His eyes narrowed as his grin grew. Beth was unsure whether they would make it to their destination or not. Mary Helen cackled at his grin. Beth thought that perhaps Mary Helen was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She didn’t seem to be altogether with it; but perhaps it was the death of two of her sons sending her over the edge. She wouldn’t be the first, nor the last to watch the last shredded remnants of their sanity float off into the breeze like ragweed on a hot summer day.

“Mrs. Harris, I know that I should be tried for my treasonous acts, but the girl had nothing to do with this. Just let her go, and I’ll go peacefully back,” the sergeant pleaded in desperation. A sparkle flashed across Mary Helen’s eyes, like somebody had turned on the lights or at least walked by with a strong flashlight, Beth thought. Mary Helen looked Beth up and down and turned to the sergeant.