Episode 39
(Season 3, Episode
13)
Sometimes, Love is
Throwing Her Out a Window
Afghanistan… Before
“Spaghetti”
Stone heard the word spoken through the headset on his ear
right before the hard slapping noise and then the loud feedback.
He cursed under his breath. The plan had been simple, use this hut and
Stone for bait while Rockwell dropped them all at a distance. They were down to four, which would have been
a cake walk for Rockwell.
One of them, probably Shaky, had gotten wise and tracked
Rockwell’s location. Stone was
officially on his own. He did some
mental math and decided that currently, there were three of them about to
enter, the forth had to be dealing with Rockwell right now.
They would toss a couple of grenades in through the windows
to disorient them and then they would come in the front door. Stone had to hope they would use flash bangs,
and not gas. While flash bangs were
awful and disorienting due to the bright phosphorescence and the loud deafening
shockwave, tear gas was worse. Its title
was a complete understatement. Yes, it
did make you tear up, but anyone would tear up while their lungs and stomach spasmed
uncontrollably wrenching their entire body in pain.
Stone backed himself into a corner, reloading his M-16 carbine
and leveling it at the door.
****
Roman Estate… Now
Mikey’s car pulled up the long drive to the Roman’s estate;
Joe in the front and Macklin in the back, as usual. Mikey would just be happy to get this job over
with. Macklin had turned out to be more
than a little insane. Every minute
lowered Mike’s survival rate.
Mikey’s hopes of a clean and easy last job dwindled and died
at the site of the two back S.U.V’s in the driveway ahead of them and the
profanity scrawled over the front door. He
felt as though he had walked directly into some low budget slasher film.
“This don’t look good.” Joe said and Mikey had to agree.
They pulled to a stop and out stepped Macklin, whose clever
eyes watched everything. He drank in the
scene and tried to sum it up in his head.
Just then, they heard more gunshots from inside. It continued for almost a minute, an eternity
for a gun battle, then silence followed. Mikey had his .38 in this hand instantly. He liked the classic revolvers in place of the
big automatics.
Joe’s gun was in his hand too, a large .45. “What the hell is going on in there?”
“Nothin’ anymore, I’d wager.” Macklin spoke suddenly, his cockney accent
making him hard as ever to understand. They approached the front door and noticed the
body.
A middle aged white man of good health, dressed in loose
jeans and a tee shirt with a tweed sport coat lay on the front steps pointed
away from the door. Blood was everywhere
having rushed out of his abdomen. Mickey
turned and looked into the house. Just
beyond the arch of the door sat a chair, a double barreled sawed off shotgun
that looked old enough to have been used in the Civil War, sat pointing out. Mickey new instantly what had happened.
“Trap door.” Macklin
muttered, beating him to the punch.
“Huh?” Joe said, less quick on the uptake.
Mickey answered his question. “He had the shotgun rigged to the door,
probably with some wire or rope. The
first guy through the door took a double blast to the chest.”
“Poor bastard.” Joe
muttered, looking down at the dead man.
****
Afghanistan… Before
The grenade came in the window and hit the floor. Stone jammed his fingers in his ears and
closed his eyes tightly. If it was a
flash bang, this would lessen the effects on him. If it was tear gas, the men would find him
puking his stomach out in the fetal position and it wouldn’t matter anyway.
The grenade detonated and his vision was filled with white
light, even with them closed. The
detonation rattled the bones in his spine and sucked the wind out of him. Everything on his body hurt at once and for a
second, all we could think about doing was collapsing and resting.
He didn’t, however. As
the door kicked open, he mustered his strength, pulled the M-16 up to his chest
and fired at the door, a long sustained burst.
The ringing in his ears made the gun fire only noticeable
due to the kick against his shoulder and the flash on the muzzle barrel.
The first guy through the door was caught in the burst and
twisted as red mist exploded from his body. As he hit the floor, Stone was pulling
himself to his feet and twisting as the back door was kicked down and the
second guy rushed in. Stone pulled the
trigger again and his remaining clip emptied into the attacker who fell back
against the doorway.
The last attacker came in with his weapon up. Stone had no time to reload. He dove across the room as the machine gun
bullets tore at the inside of the hut. Stone
drew his side arm and fired…
****
Roman Estate… Now
Reno was a good killer. Most other things in life, however,
he was not so good at. He had never been
good with women, given his size and general ugliness, but he was strong. After being so unsuccessful for so long, his
carnal animal needs had taken over and he had started just taking what he
wanted from the presumed weaker sex.
After realizing just how easy it was with his training and
natural strength, he started doing it more and more. This addiction had landed him in trouble with
the law more than once. Nevertheless, he
always managed to get himself out of trouble with his connections and his back
savings of money.
So, when the villain asked him to take care of the girl,
Reno had almost laughed. His old friend
had given him a bonus and he didn’t even know it. Reno had never before committed rape on the
job, but he had never made a rule against it. The opportunity had just never presented
itself, like today.
Reno crept into the room with the girl. It was some kind of large showing room for
Civil War memorabilia. The girl was
wearing just a pair of panties and a white tank top, her bare feet were covered
in blood. The bodies of the other
contractors lay strewn across the floor. The girl seemed bothered by none of this, as
she was moving back and forth between the bodies trying to pick out one of the
guns to take.
It was in this moment
that Reno had a fleeting reservation about his next act. Some small voice said to just kill her now,
that this one was different. That same
voice had advised against his previous acts though, and Reno had never listened
before, so why start now.
She seemed to decide on one of the dead men’s guns, an MP-5.
A small submachine gun with a banana
clip and a front hand grip.
Reno decided to make his move. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed
the girl’s hair, fluidly bringing up his other hand to place the gun to her
temple. She froze when the steel touched
her milky skin.
“Drop it.” He ordered in a whisper.
She did as she was told like the good little bitch that she
was. Then again, they were all good
little bitches with a gun to their heads.
The minute she dropped the gun, he put his into the back of
his pants and shoved her forward into one of the broken display cases. He bent her over and tore at her panties. Reno was now consumed with the need to get
inside the young girl to make her his.
It was this need that made Reno ignore the fact that she
didn’t scream when shoved into the broken glass of the display table. It was also this need which kept him from
noticing the large piece of glass that she wrapped her fingers around.
So, when Reno took his hands off her to undo his pants, the
girl turned and, with perfect accuracy, buried the glass deep into his neck.
He tried to scream but found only a gurgle. He reached for his gun as he stared into her
cold dead eyes.
Reno found his reckoning.
****
Afghanistan… Before
He stood for a second, his eyes filled with shock and surprise
and then he fell backward. Stone didn’t
move, taking deep breaths to settle himself, trying to will his hearing to work
again. He then slowly pulled himself to
his feet, he reminded himself that there was still one out there. Shaky.
Almost on cue, Shaky walked in the back door, Rockwell in
front of him like a shield. Shaky’s
sidearm was to Rockwell’s head.
Stone brought up his own weapon, but didn’t shoot. “Since when do you take hostages?”
“I don’t, I’m going to kill both of you. I just want to make sure you assholes die
together.” Shaky said, angrily.
“Yeah right, you kill him, I kill you. You kill me, he kills you.” Stone laid out the situation.
Shaky laughed. “What
a joke. Your little pet psycho may be
useful with a rifle, but that’s all he’s got going for him.”
“I’m in the room, fucker!” Rockwell said, feeling left out
of the standoff.
Shaky ignored him. “I’m going to blow your head off, then I’m going
to kill this crazy asshole. Then I’m
going to take the gold you tried to take.”
“That gold will by a lot of man-ass,” Rockwell quipped.
Shaky continued to ignore him and Stone lowered his gun and
smiled. It was all so funny and so
stupid.
“You giving up? That
is funny.” Shaky said, trying to mask
his confusion.
Stone had very few moments of pure clarity in his life and
in all honesty, he liked it that way. He
had spent his life fighting and the constant fighting kept him from pondering
the worst parts of life; death, morality, pets. The madness he surrounded himself with was not
an accident. Even so, it was impossible
to completely shield himself from moments of perfect understanding. It came to him now in a wave of pain and he
saw just how stupid this was.
A bunch of terrible people in a foreign country killing each
other over someone else’s gold. Gold
which they had no way of smuggling out of the country, anyway.
“Just so damn stupid.” Stone muttered.
Shaky was confused by this, but Rockwell gave a big toothy
grin. “I know, isn’t it great?!”
The question was rhetorical as Rockwell made his legs into
rubber and put his left palm over the barrel of the gun as he did. The gun went off and blew out Rockwell’s palm
as he fell, but he managed to divert the bullet away from his body.
As Rockwell fell, Stone’s moment of clarity went with him
and all that remained was the fight. Stone
brought up his sidearm and put two bullets into Shaky’s face. The back of his head exploded, sending blood
and brain matter back out the door in which he had come.
Just like that, it was over. No drama, no twist, and just one last dead
body.
****
Roman Estate… Now
Rockwell stared at the scar on his palm from all those years
ago with Shaky and he waited for the mystery man to enter the door.
Rockwell checked the Scolfield. He had one bullet left. He almost regretted not picking up a gun from
the dead men in the show room down the hall but this did make it more
interesting. The door to the office
kicked open and Rockwell swung to fire but he was too late. He heard the shot and felt the sting in his
right shoulder.
“Mother fucker!” Rockwell yelled and dropped the gun.
“Damn Rockwell.” Naplam came into the dim light of the office. “You have slipped.”
Rockwell chuckled. “Napalm? You have got to be fucking me. I knew it wasn’t Shaky, but you?”
Naplam stepped into the room further. He was wearing black cargo pants and a black
jacket. He was lean and still fit, but
he was firing the gun with his left hand. That’s when Rockwell noticed the hook were his
right hand should be.
Naplam nodded at Rockwell’s new shoulder wound. “I just made it even.”
Rockwell stood to face him. “I put a high powered rifle bullet through
your chest.”
Naplam shook his head. “Correction, you put a bullet through the M-16
I had in front of me. The bullet
diverted and took my hand.”
Rockwell shook his head. “You would have bled out.”
Naplam smiled. “You
would be surprised what a belt and a whole lot of hate can get you through.”
Most wouldn’t have accepted that answer. Rockwell did. It made perfect sense to him.
“So, it was never Shaky, and no one hired you to take out
the senator?” Rockwell asked, knowing
the answer.
Naplam smiled. “No, I
knew that if the senator knew Shaky was after him, and I leaked the right
information to him about Rattlesnake, he would find you. Then we could finish it.”
Rockwell smiled. He
was on cloud nine. “I’m sorry, Napalm.”
Naplam was confused. “I think it’s a little late for that.”
Rockwell shook his head. “Not for the hand, for thinking you were just
Shaky’s bitch. You are so much more
exceptional than that.”
Naplam nodded and
walked over to stand next to the desk. He
placed his gun on the desk. “Let’s
finish this dramatically. We seem to
share a flare for that. First to get to
the gun wins.”
Two gun shots sounded from down the hall and both turned for
a second. Naplam smiled. “That would be my man Reno taking care of the
girl. Hope she wasn’t important to you.”
Rockwell darkened and Stone was suddenly next to him. “I warned you, buddy.”
Rockwell turned back to Napalm and moved for the gun.
Napalm had no interest in the gun and left hooked him across
the face. The blow broke Rockwell’s lip
and staggered him. His fedora fell from
his head to the floor. Rockwell tried to
back fist but Napalm was too fast and he trapped the arm with his left and
brought the hook into Rockwell’s forearm. Rockwell screamed in pain.
Napalm kicked Rockwell to the stomach then used his left
hand to drive Rockwell’s face into the sturdy oak of the desk. Rockwell’s nose broke and Rockwell slid to the
floor, the fight draining out of him. Naplam calmly picked up the gun and
pointed at Rockwell.
“That’s it, buddy. Without
Stone, you are just a whole lot of crazy.” Napalm said victoriously.
Rockwell then caught a sight out of his peripherals and
grinned through the blood from his nose and lips. “Well, there was one thing I had that Stone
never did.”
Naplam decided to humor the mad man. “Okay, I’ll bite. What?”
“Good taste in women.”
Napalm heard the racking of the slide on an MP-5 and turned
to see the strange small pale woman in ripped panties and a tank top. Her feet, legs and right arm were covered in
other people’s blood and she was holding a mean looking sub-machine gun.
Naplam turned to fire but Maude held the trigger down and emptied
the gun into Napalm. The last thing he
heard was the laughter.
Rockwell and Maude laughed loud and in harmony. It would haunt Napalm for the rest of his
life, all 2.3 seconds of it.
Maude dropped the gun and walked over to Rockwell as
Rockwell pulled himself to his feet. Maude reached to kiss him but Rockwell stopped
her with a finger. Rockwell then bent
over and picked up his fedora, now soaked in the blood of Napalm. He put it on his head and turned back to her.
“Never kiss a girl without it.” He said, then then two kissed deeply, drinking
in the madness that they shared.
“OY!” The hard cocky voice woke them both up. They turned to see Macklin, Joe and Mikey. Mikey and Joe had guns raised.
Rockwell took a deep breath. “You look different.”
“I am different, mate.” Macklin said with a smile.
“We have business, I’m guessing?” Rockwell asked.
“That we do, mate.” Macklin said again, calmly.
Rockwell nodded then turned to Maude and whispered in her
ear. “Jim Creegan, Patti O’ Shaughnessy”
Maude looked at him confused as Rockwell seemed to move her
backward around the desk.
Rockwell then stopped, smiled and kicked her in the chest
backward through the window he had positioned behind her, sending her spinning
down three stories into the crazed swirling waters below. Rockwell grinned as
he watched the woman hit the waters and vanish. She never screamed.
If the fall did kill her, he thought it would be fitting,
her crashing into the madness of the river that mirrored her.
That mirrored him.
“Well that was interesting,” Macklin said, having watched
the strange spectacle.
Rockwell turned and shrugged. “Love can be weird that way.”
Macklin smiled. “I
can understand that.”
Rockwell grinned. “Yes, I believe you do. Now, can we get on with this shit?”
Macklin smiled and nodded. “Oh yes. Yes we can.”
TO BE CONTINUED IN
SEASON 4
SEASON 3 ENDS HERE
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