Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) (39 page)

“Thanks.”

As Everett ambled amid the large machinery, men and women wearing hard hats and goggles steered forklifts stacked with flyers and brochures. Others climbed on loud, churning printing presses, adjusting controls and watching huge white sheets of paper feed into the mouths of sophisticated equipment.

Looks innocent enough.

His nose burned from the smell of chemicals. It must have been more than a hundred yards to the old, varnished wooden door the kid had pointed to. As Everett reached for the black metal knob, he took one last glimpse behind him. The eyes of half the workers in the place were glued to him.
Do they recognize me or what?
He opened the door.

The stairwell was dim and musty. He took several steps down and shut the door, closing off the noise behind him. But his ears were ringing. One dingy lightbulb, covered in cobwebs, lit the way. The place smelled like urine.

Could I have taken the wrong door? No. There were no others.

He stared down at the concrete block walls. “Lord, protect me,” he whispered, starting down the steps.

He got to the landing and faced a long hallway with doors along the left and right, all sealed up, dark, and quiet.
Never used
. Bulbs hung every ten feet overhead, but only two were lit. Everett took a deep breath and began the march.

The smell of rotten eggs engulfed him as he approached the end of the hall. There, a lone door was open. He peered in. It was an enormous rectangular room with low ceilings, flickering overhead lights, and a dark concrete floor.

He passed through the doorway. The portion of the room he stepped into was empty, except for several dozen propane tanks that sat precariously around the border. As he walked toward the massive jumble of equipment, ceiling-high windows, and people at the far end of the room, Everett’s throat became irritated, as if something was caught in it. He coughed hard but couldn’t dislodge anything. His eyes watered at the pungent odor. Removing a blue bandana from his pocket, he covered his nose and mouth and walked farther.

As the scene seventy yards away came into focus, a rush of heat swept over him.

This is trouble.

He stopped and turned around. His exit was still clear. He swiveled back to face the enormous operation at the other end of the cavernous room.

Seven men, wearing dark rubber aprons, miniature gas masks, and elbow-high elastic gloves, worked test tubes, hoses, vats, pressure gauges, stoves, and propane tanks like MIT grads conducting breakthrough scientific research.

Several glanced up at him but continued their intensive work.

On four long tables, Everett saw coffee filters—hundreds of them—some containing a white, pasty substance; others, a dark red sludge. Beyond the tables were six to eight wooden pallets, lined up side by side on the floor, each piled shoulder-high with dozens of shrink-wrapped squares—eight by eight inches each—containing what Everett assumed was methamphetamine.

A bright red light danced on the floor in front of him. It darted to his legs, shrinking to the size of a dime. Then to his stomach. Looking up, Everett was temporarily blinded by a blaze of red from the far end of the room. He covered his eyes with both hands, the bandana still in one.

“Quite an operation, ain’t it?” A young voice yelled from inside the lab. “You’re lookin’ at the biggest meth operation in the eastern United States…”

But all Everett could see were flashes of red coming from the laser beam attached to Badino’s gun and occasional glimpses of the backlit lab and its occupants at the far end of the room.

“These gentlemen are cookin’ ammonium nitrate. Soon it’ll be anhydrous ammonia. And with that, we make the best meth in the whole dang country.” He cackled. “Don’t suppose you’d like to try a sample…”

Why are you telling me that? Fact is, you wouldn’t if you thought I was gonna live very long.

“Where’s Wesley?” Everett yelled, hoisting his arms up in front of him to block the laser.

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced—”

“I know who you are, Badino. I said, where’s Wesley?”

“He just so happens to be right here.” Finally, Tony lowered the gun.

Everett made out Wesley’s silhouette as he entered through a door near the meth lab. The workers stopped what they were doing and watched.

“Are you all right, Wes?” Everett took several more steps forward.

“You stay right there, Jesus Man!” Tony screamed. “You try anything and I’ll rip you to shreds with this forty-five. You know what forty-five hollow points will do, don’t you?”

“I’m here for Wesley—that’s all.” Everett could barely breathe, he was so overcome by the stench of the chemicals. He wiped his eyes again with the bandana, taking several steps forward. “Just let me take him, and we’ll be out of your way—”

“You shut your face!” Tony snarled. “We play by
my
rules.” He lowered the red dot to Everett’s stomach. “Here’s how it’s gonna work, rock star. I’m gonna ask you right here and now—in front of all these witnesses—if you believe in God,” Tony mocked, “if you believe Jesus Christ died for everybody, to forgive their sins and save ’em from hell. If you say you believe—and you insist on coddling your meaningless spiritual pipe dreams—then you’ll die right here and now.” Tony racked the slide of the gun, locking it back.

Everett shot a glance at the men standing frozen in and around the meth equipment.

“This is nothin’ they haven’t seen!” Tony blazed. “You say yes to God right now and at least one of these fat police bullets is gonna rip your chest open. And then you’re gonna see how wrong you were about sweet baby Jesus.”

The laser found Everett’s face again, and his eyes teared and stung. He cupped his hands at his face, trying to see his nephew. “Wes, listen to me—”

“No! You listen to me,” Wesley shouted. “Ever since David died, I’ve hated you and Aunt Karen. He worshiped you, and you couldn’t care less about him.”

Tony dropped the arm with the gun. “You tell it, Lester.”

“I hated Aunt Karen ’cause she changed you from David’s hero to a Jesus freak. I resented her for it.”

Tony took several steps toward Everett, laughing hideously. “See all the good you did? You be sure to enjoy these last few words of honor, rock star. They’re probably gonna be the last words you ever hear.”

“Wes, I’m sorry I let you down—”

“Not me! David!”

“It was both of you. And it’s my fault. Maybe you can try to understand, knowing what the drugs do. I was a mess. I didn’t think of anyone but me. And I didn’t remember anything. I’d give anything to go back in time.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Wesley swayed, waving his arms. “I was at Twin Steams the night your dog died—”

“Yeah, but I slit her fat throat!” Tony roared.

“I didn’t turf the place, either.” Wesley shook both hands in the air. “Badino jumped into the driver’s seat—”

Tony clobbered Wesley with the fist that held the gun.

Whack.

Everett heard Wesley’s head crack and watched his nephew crumple to the ground, hands to his head, rolling back and forth.

“Leave him alone!” Everett yelled.

“Before this party ends.” Tony caught his breath. “You should know, Lester, I delivered the brick—and the bloody sign.”

“You’re goin’ to hell, Badino. You know that? It may not be today—”

“Shut up!” Tony lifted the gun with both hands and locked its sights on Everett’s face. “They should have called it the Farewell Tour, because your ride is over. And your life with your lovely little bride is finished, too, just like mine ended when my Erica died believing in your pitiful concept of a God!”

Wesley muttered something while on all fours, trying to get back on his feet.

“Shut up!” Tony screamed. “You’re weak, Wesley! It’s time for this martyr to fish or cut bait.”

“Leave him alone.” Wesley made it to his feet. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. Here, take your money back!”

Wesley flung something at Tony. It was bills. They fluttered like confetti. Tony took a savage swing at Wesley, gun in hand. He missed, and the red light flashed across the room.

Everett was leaning toward Tony, a hairbreadth away from charging, but he was too far away.

“He’s innocent!” Wesley cried, falling to his knees.

“What’s that to me?” Tony booted him in the shoulder with a flying kick.

“Let him go,” Wesley wailed.

“No! Since you think he’s so innocent, let’s make this more interesting.” Tony spun around, letting out a chilling laugh.

He waved the piece at Everett, the red light zigzagging off the walls. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You say you believe and you’re dead meat, Lester. But here’s the kicker. If you
deny
Christ, you get to live. Free pass. Your whole family lives. You go on with your little dog and pony show, happily ever after.”

“Where is my brother?” Everett demanded.

“You don’t want to go there, Mr. DeathStroke.”

“Where?”

“You’ll never see him again! That good enough for you? Now I’m not finished.” He grabbed Wesley by the coat collar, dragging him five feet and glaring at Everett. “If you deny Christ to save yourself, there’s one hitch.” Tony mashed the barrel of the gun in the back of Wesley’s skull. “Your nephew here takes two behind the ear…and you watch the whole thing.”

Tony shoved Wesley to the floor and examined his watch. “You got one minute!”

Everett raised his arms, blocked the light, and tried to see his nephew for what he knew would be the last time. “Wes—”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Everett!”

“Wes, if he kills me now, I want us to be together—”

“Gimme a break!” Tony boiled, steadying the .45 in front of him.

“I love you, Wes! I’m sorry about David. I wanted to make it right…” He caught a glimpse of movement in the lab. Several workers were talking, beginning to argue.

“I set you up!” Wesley screamed.

“I know.” Everett nodded. “It’s okay. I’m going to be fine. You tell Karen and Madison and everyone, I’m fine. Tell them, at the last minute God came near and that, even now, I can praise Him—’cause I’m goin’ home.”

“Time’s up!” Tony bellowed. “What’s it gonna be?”

Everett took an enormous breath and closed his eyes. “Jesus Christ is alive. He is my Lord and Savior—”

“Nooo!” Wesley screamed. “How can you do this?”

Everett’s arms were outstretched at his sides. “He’s in heaven, preparing a place for me…” Chills engulfed him, as did the sensation that he was floating. “He’s right here with me, walking through this fire with me! Comforting me. Giving me—”

Poof.

Everett flinched, thinking it was Tony’s gun. He opened his eyes in time to see a small mushroom cloud rolling toward the ceiling.

Is that normal?

Murmuring in the lab.

Poof!
A bright yellow flash.

Then yelling.

Something’s wrong.

And a blue flame creeping…racing…

There’s confusion. Maybe I can—

Whiteout.

BOOM!

The gust of heat blew Everett backward twenty feet, the seat of his pants burning from the friction of the slide.

A firestorm of metal and glass pelted him like a hurricane. His soul quaked at the horrifying shrieks.

Gotta find Wesley.
He tried to lift himself.
No way.
He collapsed amid the carnage.

“Heeeelp!”

He rolled his throbbing head toward the terror-pierced screams.

On fire.

People were on fire!

40

WHEREVER HE WAS, EVERETT
felt like he could sleep forever. Eyes closed, he winced at the sharpness in his throat and the riveting pain that squeezed his neck and back like a vice. His elbows burned.

Cold water.

But not now…just sleep.

He drifted.

Wesley was screaming. Tony pulled the trigger. Everything exploded…

“Get out!” His eyes flicked open. His body was drenched, and he was panting. He felt a cool washcloth ease his forehead back down on the pillow and wipe the perspiration away.

“It’s okay, baby.” Karen. Lovely Karen. They were together again. “It’s okay.”

Thank God.

He let his eyes close and his body go limp.

“Rest, sweetheart,” he heard her whisper. “I’ll be here.”

And he hoped it wasn’t a dream.

The next time he awoke, he squirmed on the same warm, matted sheets. It felt much later. Was it? He opened his eyes, and Karen’s lovely face came into focus. Her long, shiny hair was combed perfectly. She wore glossy lipstick and a gleaming smile.

“Hey, honey,” she whispered. “How do you feel?”

In the low light, he took in the dark wood of the hospital room, then found his wife’s smile again. “Okay, now that I see you.” His voice cracked.

Sitting beside the bed, she lifted a drink to his mouth. He sipped, cringed a bit as the water ran over what felt like glass in his throat, then drank some more.

“You’ve been out for quite a while.” She set the cup aside. “We’re at Mercy Hospital in Pittsburgh. There was an explosion—”

“And a fire.”

She nodded. “You’ve got a concussion and inhaled a lot of smoke, but you’re going to be fine. No broken bones.”

“Wesley…”

“He’s going to be fine, too. He had surgery in the burn unit, and everything’s looking real good.”

“Are you sure?” He tried to lean forward, but she eased him back down. “It looked bad…”

“I’ve been over there. His leg got the worst of it, but he’s had some incredible doctors working on him. God’s good.”

“What about Tony?”

Her head tilted and the smile faded. “He’s dead.”

Everett frowned, looked away, and shook his head.

Eternal torment
. He tried to picture hell but couldn’t.

She reached for his hands and brought them close. Their faces were within inches of each other, and he drank in the smell of her perfume. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She kissed him warmly on the cheek. “I talked to Wesley.”