The Damned (25 page)

Three keys hung on the oval piece of metal Karen held in front of her, one as long and as thick as a finger. Karen inserted that one into the lock. Turning it took a great deal of effort, but she managed it, and once the bars slid back, Scott and his cellmates stepped out into the hallway.

Paul, the truck driver, said, “Is there a back way outa here?”

“Just walk out through the lobby,” Karen told him. “There’s a huge party going on in there. Walk out like you belong and nobody’ll even notice. The parking lot’s full of cars and trucks, motorcycles and SUV’s. Keys are left in them so anyone who needs one can just jump in and take off. They’re not worried about people stealing them ‘cause anybody with any sense wouldn’t come within shouting distance of this place. If you’re out there, you’re pretty much with them.”

“Still,” Richard said. “I’d feel a lot better sneaking out the back.” The business man, in his wrinkled grey suit, peered down the long hallway, and Karen said, “Good luck finding a back door. Personally, I’d go out the front—one at a time.”

“Fuck this,” said Paul. “I’m getting outa here.” He took off up the hallway, took a left and disappeared into another long corridor.

Richard shrugged out of his sports jacket and dropped it to the floor. “I doubt I’d fit in wearing that.”

“Good move,” Karen told him, then to Scott, “Turn your head.” She brushed a finger across the dimpled indentation. “You really have come a long way.”

“I’m going now,” said Richard. “Thank you for setting us free.”

Karen wished him well, and he headed up the hallway, following the same path as his truck driving cellmate. Then she turned to Scott and said, “Well, let’s go.”

They had started up the corridor, when somebody said, “What about us?” It was a man in another shadowed cell. When Scott and Karen stepped closer, they saw four people standing behind him. “You’re going to let us out, aren’t you?”

Scott, who had stood silent since stepping out of his cell, said, “No. We can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? There’s a party going on out there, isn’t there? We’ll all walk out, just like she said.”

“We can’t chance it.”

“What the fuck, man?”

“He’s right,” Karen said. “We can’t chance it. I’m sorry—I really am. Somebody sees a bunch of people streaming out that door, next thing you know those bikers’ll be all over us. I’m sorry.”

She and Scott turned their backs to a bevy of shouted curses and slurs that continued as they made their way down the hallway. A left took them down another long corridor, past a stairwell that led to the rooftop. They kept going. Soon they were passing the booking room.

Scott said, “My wife. She’s with them.”

“I know. I’ve seen her.”

“She’s with
him
.”

“I know.”

“He told her we could leave together, that he’d let us go. All she had to do was say yes, but she didn’t. She just watched them drag me away. I watched her stick a needle in her arm—her own arm. And she just let them take me away like I didn’t even matter.”

“It’s the drugs, Scott. The drugs and the fear and everything she’s been through. She came to the clinic every day; every single day she sat by your side, reading to you, talking to you, holding your hand and praying. I don’t know what happened to her, but it must have been pretty bad. She was a good woman, once, but now the drugs have her. And the things she’s been forced to… I don’t know what to say, except, I know she loved you, once, and I’m sorry.”

They continued along the hallway, until Karen stopped and said, “Let’s duck in here a minute. I’ve been caring for this guy and I want to check on him one last time before I leave.”

On their way through the doorway, Scott said, “Where’re you going to go?”

“Like I told you back in front of your cell. There’s a parking lot full of vehicles outside. I’m going to walk through the lobby like I own the place, go out and climb into one of those SUV’s and haul ass away from here. Come along if you like. Or don’t. Either way, I’ve had enough of this shit.”

They crossed the floor, past the nurse’s station to the room where her patient lay sleeping. His eyes were closed, his arms by his side. He was resting peacefully. Karen shook him and his eyes slowly opened. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey, yourself,” she told him, then, “Look, I’m leaving here tonight and I won’t be back. I just wanted to look in on you before I go.”

“You’re… leaving?”

“Yes, I’m leaving, but you’ll be all right. I’m going to replenish your IV fluids. When that runs out, start in on the bottle of antibiotics and pain medication I’ve left on the nightstand. Just read the label and take them as directed. There’s food and water in that bag in the corner. Hold up here for a while. You’ll know when it’s time to leave—you’ll feel it.”

Scott watched as Karen pulled the clear plastic tubing from the needle inserted into her patient’s wrist, unhooked the nearly depleted IV bag and tossed it and the tubing in a waste receptacle. Moments later, new tubing and another bag was in place.

Two days ago he might very well have raped her in the dark alley he had been found staggering from. But now he was a human being in need, and she had done what she’d been trained to do. Two days ago they might have been enemies, but now there was a bond. She could feel it between them. “Well,” she said, and then gave his arm a gentle pat.

“You saved my life, and I’ll never forget it. Thank you… I don’t even know your name.”

“Karen… and you are?”

“Roger.”

Take care, Roger.”

Karen and Scott left Roger behind, retracing their steps past the nurse’s station, then across the floor. The door opened and Steady Teddy stepped into the room, smiling.

“What’s this?” he called out. He shut the door behind him and stepped closer to Scott and Karen.

“Just checking on my patient,” Karen said.

“And this is?”

“Jimmy Jay’s friend.”

“You got a name, Jimmy Jay’s friend?”

“Roger.”

Teddy took another step closer, until he was standing right between them. Still smiling, he said, “How
is
our patient?”

“He’s all—”

A swift elbow to the head sent Scott reeling to the floor. Karen stepped back and Teddy drove a boot into his side, then another savage kick as Scott lay squirming. Then the biker turned to Karen, who had backed all the way across the room.

“The bullet hole gave him away, that and the fact I was about the only one to get a decent look at him this morning. But the bullet hole cinched it. I just wanta know why. Why’d you turn him loose?”

Karen said nothing. She looked at Scott, who lay moaning on the floor, looked back at Teddy and he grabbed her around the throat. His grip tightened; her eyeballs bulged and her mouth flew open. He shoved her against the wall, his hand still tight around her. A croaking rasp escaped her lips as he said, “At least you won’t have to worry about Jet anymore.”

It was over. She’d gone this far but would go no further. Her breath would leave her, and she would take to her grave the cruel image of the monster who stood leering before her. She could feel the crush of his thumb against her windpipe, the hard surface of the wall against her back. Her face went red, then purple. The lights dimmed until she could see only a vague outline of his face. Her eyes fluttered shut, and darkness folded itself around her. Somewhere in the distance came a cry of pain. The pressure left her throat and she dropped to the floor. Her breath began to come back; harsh, painful gasps of air filled her lungs as she swam up from the darkness to see Teddy on the floor beside her, blood seeping from a ragged gash in his side while Roger stood over them, clutching a blood-stained knife in his hand. Now the rasping croak was coming from Teddy, a sound Karen had heard many times before, that last dying gasp before the body shudders and the eyes flutter shut. And then they did: his body tensed, his eyes closed; one final breath rattled across his lips and he lay motionless.

She struggled to her knees, then up to her feet. Roger stood before her, the bloody knife still in his hand, Scott on his knees behind him. He asked if she was all right, and she said, “Yes.” Her throat still hurt, but she knew she would be okay.

Karen took the knife and dropped it to the floor. “Looks like we’re even,” she said. It was supposed to be a humorous quip, like others heard in countless action movies she had seen over the years, where the hero saves the girl and the snappy dialogue begins, the credits roll and the happy couple strolls off into the sunset. But the words came out in a frightened squeak. Death had touched her; she’d felt its cold grip in the darkness, and now she sensed it lingering in the air around her. She had survived its icy embrace, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Teddy had stumbled upon them. For all she knew, Dub or one of his giant sidekicks would be next.

She took Roger by the hand. “C’mon, we need to get you back to bed, get your IV back in place.”

“What about him?” he said.

“We’ll just leave him there. Anybody asks, you act surprised. You’ve been passed out most of the day. You don’t know anything.”

Scott, who had finally made it to his feet, stepped up beside them. Together, he and Karen got Roger back into his bed, the IV reattached. Karen leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said.

“Take care,” he told her.

Then she and Scott went back to the clinic. There was a gun protruding from Teddy’s waistband; Scott grabbed it and slid it into his own. “What do you think?”

“They’re going to know we did it, because we’re both going to be gone. And that’s what we need to do—get in one of those SUV’s and leave this city far behind us.”

“What about…”

“What, your wife?”

“I can’t just leave her there.”

“What’re you going to do, wade into an army of bikers like Bruce Willis or something? You won’t last three seconds.”

Three seconds.

“What?”

“Nothing… let’s just… get out of here.”

They stepped out into the hallway, and down the long corridor they went, until they found themselves standing in front of the door that would lead them into the jailhouse lobby. Loud, raucous music echoed around them as they paused at the entryway. They threw the door open and stepped into the crowded room, and, just like Karen said, passed through their own little valley of death as if they owned the place.

Soon they were standing outside, where the tantalizing smell of grilled meat set a gnawing pang of alarm tripping in Scott’s gut. He wanted to stop and eat, but he didn’t dare. They kept going, down the stairs and through the crowd, past the smoking grills. They were in the middle of the street when a motorcycle roared around the corner. A conical beam of light swept over them and they ran from the street, across the sidewalk to the parking lot’s edge. The bike swerved to a stop and Dub jumped off it.

“The fuck is
this!
” he shouted.

His gun came out as he dragged Sandi along behind him—Scott pulled his and Dub used her for a shield. “She started whining after they took your ass outa the Ambassador, going on about how she loved you,
beggin’
me to let you live. Next thing you know she’s calling me a scumbag. Snorted coke off the end of my dick after I ass-fucked her, and she’s calling
me
a scumbag. Rich, ain’t it?”

Scott said nothing. He followed Karen’s lead, backing further away until they were standing between a light green SUV and a Ford pickup. They were seventy-five yards away from the jailhouse, thirty yards away from Dub.

Dub pressed the barrel of his .9mm against Sandi’s temple. “Where you going?” he called out. “You don’t want me to kill her, do you?”

Scott stood beside the SUV, Karen behind him as he pointed his gun at Dub. The keys were hanging from the ignition. He steadied his hand and aimed at the smiling face of the biker, who laughed and said, “Go ahead, Scotty, if you got the nerve.”

Scott stood frozen in place, the gun wavering in his shaking hand.

“If your gun isn’t on the sidewalk by the time I count to three, your wife’s brains will be.”

He waited a moment before calling out, “One!”

Scott told Karen, “The keys are in the ignition.”

“I know,” she said.

“Two!”

“Jump inside and haul ass when I toss my gun.”

“Scott.”

“I have to—I can’t let him kill her.”

Scott tossed his gun and Dub said, “Three!” The gun bucked in his hand and Sandi’s head rocked sideways, blood and brain and bits of skull painting the asphalt as Dub walked forward, blowing out the driver’s side window when Karen snatched open the door. She hurled herself onto the seat and Dub kept firing, punching holes into the windshield until the gun was emptied and the safety glass torn nearly completely away.

Dub pulled fresh ammo from his pocket, ejected the spent clip and slammed the new one home. He was twenty yards away, smiling and walking slowly forward while Scott ran to the rear of the vehicle and, Karen, still lying across the front seat, twisted the ignition. The SUV purred to life and Scott jerked open the hatch. Dub fired four more times, stitching a line of jagged holes across the grill. Smoke rose from under the hood as Scott stared down at a faded green metal container in the rear compartment, two feet wide and three feet long. Beside it was a hand-held antitank weapon. He fumbled open the container. One side was empty; the other held a missile, its green paint as dull and lifeless as the container housing it.