152 (12)

Michelle kept her eyes on Mokoto as she continued to fumble with the rope that kept her arms at her sides.  Mokoto still had her head on her knees, where it had been for a few minutes.  Michelle had her fingers around the end of the rope, and the next step was to figure out what kind of knot it was.  Mokoto’s head slowly looked up as Michelle’s face had a look of stern determination.  “Have you been staring at me this whole time?”  Mokoto said, as she unwrapped her arms and stretched out her legs.

“It’s not like you have a TV here.”

“Hmm” Mokoto grunted.  She reached up and slowly pulled her gun out of her holster.  She sat it on the ground, with the barrel pointing right at Michelle.  She then reached inside her holster and pulled out a small picture.  “Let me ask you a question.”

“I take it I have to answer.”

“I’d prefer you did.”

“Okay, shoot…” Michelle winced at her statement, but Mokoto actually had to stop herself from giggling.  “…well, not literally please.”

“Fair enough” Mokoto said, as her smile slowly faded over the course of around half a minute of silence.  “Do you believe in random chance, or that everything happens for a reason?”

Oh great, I’m tied up and being forced to have a philosophical discussion Michelle thought.  “Well, I’ve never really thought about it.  In my life, I’ve seen a lot of stuff that suggests random chance.”

“But, that isn’t your answer.”

“I met Phil in circumstances I’d call random chance, but at times it felt like it was meant to be, today notwithstanding.”

“Hmm” Mokoto said, her eyes still on the small photograph.  Michelle had felt around enough to get a good feel of the knot, and she was slowly trying to untie it without moving her arms too much.

“Why do you ask, may I ask?” Michelle was desperate to keep Mokoto’s mind off her and on whatever she was looking at.

“Some little girl in Sioux Falls told me I had a good tama.”

“Tama?”

“Spirit.  Soul.  Whatever.”

“Did you get her kitten out of a tree or something?”

Mokoto laughed under her breath.  “Hardly.  I was on my motorcycle, and I was seconds away from holstering my gun.  She just rode up behind me on her pink Hello Kitty bike with training wheels and started talking to me.”

“Why do you think she said it then?”

“I have no idea.”

“It is bothering you, because of what you’ve done in the past.”

“What I’ve done is done.  It’s what I do.  It’s who I am.”

“What you do shouldn’t be who you are.”

“In this business, at a certain point, what you do and what you are fuse together.  I’m too far gone to separate the two.”

“Really?  What about that talk about letting us go if you find what you want?”

Mokoto didn’t answer right away.  She just stared at the picture.  Michelle had the knot coming apart, but she suddenly realized something she hadn’t thought of yet.

What the hell am I going to do when I get untied?

71 (15)

 ”I’ve got it, we’ll call a lawyer first.”  Phil said, showing the first signs of a smile that Bob had seen in hours.

“A lawyer?  Why”

“Because, we’re obviously going to need one.  They’ll want somebody to take the fall for a fallen officer.  I’m sure Mojito or whatever her name was is long gone.”

“Mokoto.”

“Again, why are you correcting me?”

“We need to keep our stories straight and consistent.”  Bob looked at the passing scenery.  A grove of trees flew by as he heard Phil start to snicker.

“Admit it Bob, you’ve got a thing for her.”

“EXCUSE ME?  The woman who was stalking us, shot a cop and tried to shoot us.  Yeah, she’s way my type.”

“Hell, I agree, but I can’t argue that she’s well put together, and I’m not big into Asian girls.”

“And I am?”

“Let’s see” said Phil as he folded his legs and started counting on his hand.  “First off, you bought Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon the day it came out, and you kept raving about how great Zhang Ziyi was in it.”

“IT WAS A GOOD MOVIE.”

“Second, every MySpace survey you fill out that has the question ‘favorite actress’ you put Lucy Liu.”

“I like Lucy Liu.  Is that a crime?”

“Finally, the first bookmark on your browser’s bookmarks toolbar is 3DBooru.”

Bob’s face turned red.  “Hey, how did you know that?”

Phil shook his head.  “A guy can only get called into a room for so many funny YouTube clips before he starts noticing things on that computer’s Firefox bar.”

Bob put his head on his hands, slouching in a way that reflected defeat and dejection.  Suddenly, his head popped up and looked at Phil.  “How do you know what 3DBooru is?”

Phil rolled his eyes.  “Maybe it was that time you emailed the link to me and said ‘check this site’ perhaps?”

Bob put his head back on his hands, and returned to his regularly scheduled dejection.

***

The slow creaking of a door was last heard a minute ago.  There was no sound of running water, no noise from the stalls, and no zipping or unzipping.  Geoff was still breathing heavily, but he was keeping it as quiet as he could.  He was in a locked stall, in a catcher’s crouch while he kept dialing numbers in his phone that Jer might pick up.  Geoff dialed number after number, only to hear the familiar “mailbox full” refrain.  Geoff then started focusing on the cell numbers in his list of contacts.  Jer had at least two of those, and a few more Geoff knew he used to have.  His fingers started typing hastily and in all caps:

R U ALIVE?  J AND J KNOW YOU MIGHT BE.  WE NEED 2 TALK.  WHERE TH F R U?

Geoff hit send on the last number, when he heard the door open again.  He froze in place as he heard the footsteps of someone wearing boots walk in.  Geoff waited while he heard the familiar zipping noise.  What heard next was something he hadn’t heard yet.

“TYLER, WHERE ARE YOU, OVER” came the voice from a handset, the kind security kept attached to their shoulder.

“I’m in the bathroom, over”

“YOU CAN’T LEAVE YOUR POST LIKE THAT, OVER.”

“Relax, I have Thompson covering for me.  Besides, Mr. F.B.I. and that prick from the S.F.P.D. can handle things now, over.”

“TYLER, GET BACK TO YOUR POST.  WE HAVE IMAGES OF A PERSON OF INTEREST WHO MIGHT STILL BE AT THE AIRPORT.  ONE GEOFF PRYBLINSKI, OVER.”

“Roger, over and out.”  There was a quick zipping noise and the sounds of those same booted feet running out the door while the auto-flush kicked in.  Geoff knew that the police would be on his trail eventually, but he didn’t know they’d be after him already.  Geoff didn’t want to race both Jeremiah and Jebediah, along with the Sioux Falls police.  Plus, now that he knew the F.B.I. was in town, his margin of error was suddenly a negative number.  I wish I’d studied the airport layout better he thought as he got down from the toilet.  He exited the stall and began washing his hands, ignoring the sound of the door opening.  

44 (16)

Hand over hand.

Mokoto looked up, then back down. The waves crashed against the vessel, and her speedboat rose and fell in the choppy water. She gritted her teeth as she looked up. The sun was directly overhead, and the light caught her silver grappling hook and reflected near blinding streaks of light as she continued.

Hand over hand.

She pulled herself onto the deck. There were two men with AK-47s with their back turned. Mokoto saw three scientists lying dead on the deck before her. She reached into her hip holster and drew her Glock.

*BLAM* *BLAM*

The two men crumpled to the deck. She had to move fast now, as the pirates would soon overwhelm her if she didn’t hurry. She heard boots impacting the stairway from the lower deck. She ran towards the doorway and leaped parallel to the opening, her pistol cracking off several shots towards the pirates on their way to the commotion, who were instead sent to their deaths. She tucked and rolled back up. She crouched as she reloaded her pistol. She ran towards the first two men she killed, and grabbed a rifle. She spun to look down the stairs, but only two corpses greeted her. She slowly crept down the stairs. She knew there were three more. One came around a corner and he was dead before he could even call out for the others. She then ducked around the same corner after she heard a door open. Gunfire rang out across the deck as one of the pirates emptied their rifle towards the corner she was hiding around. She made sure the AK she had appropriated was set for full auto, and she timed her spin. The rifle roared in her arms, peppering the corner with bullets. She gritted her teeth as she ran forward. She slid on the wet deck on her side as if it was a slip and slide, and the startled pirate saw her slide by, then he saw nothing as his life drained away from five direct hits.

Mokoto pressed herself up and ditched the rifle. She was about to kick down a door when another set of arms grabbed her from behind. One arm went around her neck, and another slipped away for just a moment. She felt a knife in her back as she struggled to breathe. The wound was in a bad place, but she would live. She kicked, clawed and bit like a ravenous wolverine until the man let go. She had dropped her pistol, but she had a knife tucked away in her boot. She pulled the knife as the pirate slashed at her arm. She didn’t even feel the blade pierce her skin, and she didn’t notice the blood dripping down her wet-suit. She screamed a primal growl of rage as she hacked her knife in wild, uncontrolled slashes. Before the pirate could counter, Mokoto’s blade found its mark. The pirate dropped over backwards as blood poured from the knife jammed through his neck.

She stumbled forward into the room the pirate was in, and there were two more scientists lying dead on the floor. Mokoto dropped to her knees, as the pain in her wounds melted away to another kind of pain. She began crying, screaming “NOT AGAIN! OH GOD, NOT AGAIN!!!” as she sobbed. She curled into a fetal position, crying in an expanding pool of blood as the boat rose and fell.

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have saved them.”

Mokoto opened her eyes. A young girl looked at her from inside a closet door that was now open. The sun shot through a window as the girl walked towards her. The sunbeams danced around. Mokoto closed her eyes tightly. She could almost feel the girl comforting her…

Mokoto’s eyes opened, and she saw two flashlight beams hitting her now destroyed jacket that was still in a tree, now blowing in the South Dakota breeze.

27

Old Man B straightened in his seat and grabbed his chest. Slowly, his hand went inside his jacket, and pulled out a phone. He flipped open the phone. “What? No. No. Oh for Pete’s sake! No. Uh-uh. Forget it! Maybe? Nah. What on earth? Are you a moron? No! Okay, see you tomorrow Clarence.” Old Man B tossed the phone into the passenger seat.

***

Jeremiah started the car. The black Cadillac rolled away from the apartment complex. Jebediah sat the stack of discs on the dash. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a laptop computer. “This shouldn’t take too long, we only found about 75 discs.  What if the disc is in the car?”

“We’ll worry about that later. There’s no use in worrying about what we can’t control. When can you check their hard drives?”

“I didn’t lift their hard drives. I turned their computers on before we left. I can hack in from outside. Besides, the odds are that Gerrard wouldn’t have tried to put the data on a computer like theirs. One didn’t even have a virus program.”

Jeremiah opened his mouth as if to talk, but stopped. He reached into his jacket and produced a vibrating Nokia. The two exchanged glances, and then Jeremiah answered the call. “Hello?”

“Where are you two?”

“Mokoto? So nice to hear from you.”

“Can it. How did the trip to the CD store go?”

“We got everything we wanted, except we didn’t see any releases from Grand Prix.”

“I was going to pick that one up, but I decided to get an album by the Police.”

***

For a Friday night, it was slow going at the 66 Station. Francis turned another page, and looked up. A tall woman was walking in from the gas pumps, and she was talking on a cell phone. Her long black hair blew in the evening breeze. Francis stared as she walked in and headed right for the beverage cooler. She was easily the best looking customer of the night, or the week, or even the month.  She didn’t notice him staring, as she was still talking on her phone.

“Well, I don’t know.  No, you can’t burn my Police.  Look, just check what you have.  No, I’ll call.  J…J…no, you listen…”  She stood with her hand on her hip.  Francis was still staring.  His glance happened to wander from her body to her head, and off to the side he saw her face reflected in the glass.  She was staring at him in the reflection.  He quickly went back to his magazine.  Great, my chance went from infinitesimal to zero he thought.  The cooler opened and quickly slammed.  He kept looking down as the slow sound of boots came towards the counter.  “No.  No.  We do this my way.  I’m not the boss of you, but today I am the boss in this town.  We don’t need to make that call.  Just…just do what you’re doing and keep your eyes open.  Dammit!  Don’t even go there.”  He heard a button being pushed quite angrily and the sound of a phone going into a pocket. 

“Hmm-mm.”

Francis glanced up.  The woman was standing at his counter, with her arms crossed and a stoic look on her face.  He tried to think of any of a dozen smooth lines, but she spoke first.

“Gas on number three.  And this.”  She put a bottle of the cheap bottled water on the counter.  Francis tried to think of a snappy comeback, but he was again interrupted as another customer came in.  Except it wasn’t a customer.  It was a man in a ski mask, waving a gun at his face.

“No heroics.  Just empty the register.”

22

Mokoto froze and shot her gaze towards her shoulder.  It was a pretty average looking hand, connected to an arm sleeved in a jean jacket.  She spun around so her back was to the truck.  She was now face to face with two college-age looking men, one with a jean jacket and a cap with an interlocking “TC.”  The other wore a shirt with a skull and some jibberish about someone called Austin and the number 3:16.  They both wore blue jeans and work boots.  The man with the hat started laughing.

“Hey now, just caught you admiring my truck and I thought I’d say hello.”  Mokoto didn’t say a word.  “Don’t talk much, eh?  Well, let me introduce myself.  My name is Ray, and this is my pal Zach.  We’re just gearing up for the party after the party, if you know what I’m sayin’.  It’s Friday night after all.”

“Yeah” Zach chimed in.  “I’m going to get so wasted tonight, and we’re always looking for a new drinking buddy.  Are you in?”  Mokoto still said nothing. 

“Why were you looking at my truck anyway?” Ray asked.  Mokoto still said nothing. 

“Maybe she doesn’t speak English.”

“Shee-it Zach.  Maybe you’re right.  Hold my beer.”  Ray handed a brown bag to Zach, who set his down on the pavement.  Ray moved in closer, and gestured with his hands as he spoke.  “So, do you know any English?  How about ‘me love you long time?”  Zach bust out laughing.  Ray started snickering.  Mokoto didn’t laugh.

She frowned, furled her brow. and clenched her fists.

***

Officer Jonas Bernard looked at his radar gun readout.  Yet another car was going a good ten miles over the limit, but speeders weren’t his job right now.  He had orders to proceed north on Minnesota Avenue to find a red Grand Prix, license number 1A 3693.  The police had received a few calls from angry motorists who reported a red Grand Prix running a busy intersection.  One of those calls knew the plate number, and it happened to be the plate number of a few guys the Captain wanted for questioning.  Guys he really wanted for questioning.  Guys he wanted so bad he told Jonas to find the car, and ignore anything short of gunfire or someone screaming for help.  Jonas kept looking to the left and right, but he didn’t see any red Pontiac.  There were a ton of intersections here, and finding one car that was probably still on the move would not be easy.  He looked to the left again, and to the right.  He did a double take to the right.  There was a red Pontiac parked on the street.  He hit the brakes and merged to the right, then he turned onto the street where the car was parked.  He saw a spot on the street behind the car, and he pulled in behind the Pontiac, which he now noticed had a license plate of 1A 3693.  He got out of the car, and squinted his eyes as he walked towards the door.  The glare from the setting sun reflected off the back glass and almost blinded him until he was past it.  He put a hand on his gun and knocked on the window.

16

“…and i was your silver lining as the story goes…”

The Rilo Kiley blared out of Bob’s Grand Prix.  His smile was almost ear to ear.  Phil just shook his head, and reached out to turn down the music for a spell.  “I have to hand it to you.  I didn’t think that would work.”

“Hey, if she’s going to be busy shooting at a hi-po, I’m taking the first exit.  Thank goodness the Minnesota Avenue exit comes up so quick on 229.”

“Do you think this will make the news on KELO?”

“KELO, KSFY, KDLT…I think in this town a gunned down officer and a pile up on 229 will make the lead story.  Hopefully we can stay out of the news for a while, if not for a long while.”

Phil took his eyes off the mirror as the car came to a stop at a red light.  He rolled down his window and put his elbow outside.  “How are you doing for gas?”

“I’ve still got 3/4 a tank, so we’re good for part of the night.”

“Well, hit the next gas station anyway.  I never did get to use the bathroom at Jer’s.”  Phil chuckled for a second.  Bob didn’t join in.  “Oh…man, I’m sorry.  In all the excitement I forgot about Jer.”

Bob shook his head as the light turned green.  “What in the world would Jer have that so many people would want?  He was a shift manager at the coffee shop in the mall, and a part time DJ at Buck’s.”

“Maybe we’re being chased by the RIAA?  He did like to download songs.”

“Dammit Phil, I’m being serious for once.  What is so fucking important that people are breaking into his apartment, chasing us, and maybe murdering him?”

Phil paused a moment.  “I never thought that maybe he was murdered.  I thought you said it was a heart condition?”

“That was what they said they thought it was, or at least what the owner of the coffee shop told me was told to her.”  Bob cocked his head to one side.  “Did that make sense?”

“More or less.  Hey, pull into HyVee gas.”

Bob flipped on his blinker and pulled the car into the gas station parking lot.  “Grab me a Vault will ya?”

“I don’t know why you drink that stuff.  It’s hella nasty.  But yeah, no problem.”  Phil shut the car door and walked hurriedly into the convenience store.  Bob was alone for the first time since Phil got back from work.  He slowly took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes vigorously.  He set the glasses on the dash, and readjusted his rear view mirror into a position that works better for traffic as opposed to pursuit.  He saw himself in it briefly, and his reflection revealed a tired upper face, and eyes that were watery.  He folded his arms across the steering wheel and put his head down.  Guys don’t cry he kept telling himself, but soon he was unable to stop, and he began sobbing as the music kept playing.

“…hooray hooray i’m your silver lining…”

***

Phil, fresh from relieving at least some pressure from his life, grabbed a Vault and a G2 from the beverage case.  He walked up to the counter.  The 40-something female cashier looked up from her small TV that was on the small shelf near the window.  “Did you have gas?”

“Nope.  Just the drinks.”

As she scanned the Vault, Phil looked over her shoulder.  KELO was airing footage from the accidents on 229.  The screen then went to a graphic of names wanted for questioning.

The screen read:

Phillip Anderton, 27, Sioux Falls
Robert Fulton, 27, Sioux Falls

3

“Are you nuts? You want to go to Jer’s place?”

Bob already had grabbed his keys, and was now tying his boots. He inhaled deeply, and sighed. “Phil, I know it’s weird, but I’ve had those sunglasses for a long time, and the way bills are, I don’t want to buy another Halo 3.”

“Bob, Jer DIED today.” Phil said as he stood up quickly. “I can’t believe you’d want to break into his place for a video game, some Pearl Jam albums and a pair of sunglasses. It’s just crazy!”

Bob sighed again. He lifted his arms a bit, motioning to Phil to relax. “Just relax, okay? Jeez, do you really think I plan to break into somebody’s apartment? I have a key. We’ll just key in, grab my stuff, and we’ll be back in no time.”

Phil put his hands on his head. He paced a bit in their small living room. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about this right now. For fuck’s sake, your best pal just died. You two have hung out and played Xbox, and then gone drinking every Friday night for what seems like a year or two now. And you’re just worried abo-”

“JUST SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE!” Bob yelled, before he walked into the kitchen. He stood in front of the sink, with his back to Phil. He reached for a red cup, and filled it with water. Bob stared into his reflection in the glass, and saw he had a tear running down his left cheek. He started gulping the water, and when he finished he looked down into the sink. “Phil, Jer gave me those sunglasses. I just want them back. I…I don’t know. Part of me thinks seeing his place one last time will make it easier. Part of me wants to make sure it isn’t some kind of elaborate joke…I don’t know. I…I can’t explain it. I’ll just go without you.”

Bob looked up to his right, and Phil was suddenly standing right by him. Phil patted him on the back, then started putting on his jacket. “C’mon Bob, let’s go. You’re driving.”

“Thanks man.”

Bob sprinted down the stairs while Phil locked the door. Phil took his time on the stairs, and he could hear the speakers in Bob’s Pontiac by the time he was at the back door of their complex. As he opened the door, Phil had to yell to get Bob’s attention “DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOUR STEREO SO LOUD?” Bob frowned as he spun the volume knob to the left.

“Dude, Nirvana demands to be heard by everyone.”

“Yeah, maybe fifteen years ago.”

“Maybe if you listened to something that could be cranked. Shit, you can’t really crank out The National or Band of Horses on a Friday” Bob sneered as he backed out of their space.

“I think you need to move your music forward a bit. You’d really like Band of Horses if you gave them a chance.”

“Maybe.” Bob’s eyes got wide. “How the hell did you get Old Man B’s spot?”

“Beats me” Phil said, with a smug look.

“Isn’t it the tournament of champions on Wheel of Fortune this week? I can’t believe he’d miss that.”

“I know, right? I’m sure I’ll hear it from him if I see him in the hallway.”

“I hope the traffic isn’t too bad today.” Bob eased the Pontiac onto the street, and then turned up the stereo. Nirvana blared for about six songs as they drove all the way across town. Phil just stared out the window the whole way. It had been a long day, but the last half hour had been the longest half hour in his recent memory. The long series of red lights didn’t help.

Finally, Bob pulled into the spot where Jer’s car was usually parked. Phil started to unbuckle his seat belt, but he heard a quick slam. Bob was already walking towards the apartment. Phil swung open his door and ran after him. When he caught up, he saw why Bob had ran over to the door.

It had been kicked in.