Bug Out! Part 11: Motorhomes on the Dark Road (16 page)

They walked through the dusk to Charlie’s rig. He and Hilda were inside, sitting at the dinette. The Sheriff knocked on the door.

“Charlie, could we chat for a moment?”

“Be right out,” Charlie said, getting up. He came out and joined them. “What’s going on?”

“Our friends here want to go nab Sherry. They’re asking for a little experienced police backup. You interested?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll get dressed and get my guns.”

“What’s that?” Hilda asked, coming to the door.

“We’re going to go pick up Sherry,” Charlie told her.

Hilda got a worried look on her face when she saw the others outside. “This sounds dangerous.”

“It’ll be okay,” Charlie said, putting on his holster and slipping his pistol in. “The Sheriff and I are going as backup.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “You bringing her back here?”

“If we can,” Malcolm said. “It’ll be up to her.”

“Why are you doing this?” Hilda asked. “I thought you had a deal with her.”

“We did,” Malcolm said. “We just watched several hours of her torturing and killing young girls with relish. I thought she was coerced into this. Didn’t look like it to me.”

“Hey, what about Ted?” George said. “When does he get here?”

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” Malcolm said. “I’ll call him.”

Malcolm hit Ted’s contact on his phone and put it to his ear.

“Ted?”

“Hey, Malcolm. What’s up?”

“How close are you?”

“Maybe an hour,” he said. “Why?”

“That woman I told you about. The one that was watching Howard’s truck stop.”

“Yeah, Sherry Holcomb,” Ted said.

“You found out her last name?”

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s bad news. I don’t think we can let her get away.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’re thinking after watching about three hours of VHS,” Malcolm said.

“You’re going to get her now?”

“Yep.”

“Give me the address,” Ted said. “I’ll swing by there before I hit the RV Park, unless I hear from you first,” he said. “You still have the Jeep?”

“Yeah, Jeep Unlimited, and we’ll have another Jeep with us. Two door.”

“Address?”

Malcolm read it off to him, along with the car info. “Got it?”

“Yeah, Malcolm. See you soon.”

Malcolm put his phone away. “You mind bringing your Jeep, George?”

“Sure, no problem. Ted’s going to meet us there, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he’s about an hour out,” Malcolm said. “Let’s go.”

***

Howard and Scott sat in the kitchen. Scott was on his laptop. Bailey came in.

“Kerry’s in bed,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“We’ll fill you in later,” Scott said. “We have an immediate task to do.”

“Really? What’s that?”

“We need to go grab that girl who pepper sprayed us.”

“Good,” she said.

“Scotty, you sure this is a good idea? Maybe we should spend our time getting ready for Malcolm and the Spook.”

“Who’s that?” Bailey asked.

“Oh, they’re
serial killer hunters
, or so they fancy themselves,” Scott said.

“Be honest,” Howard said, eyes narrowing. “These guys killed Red Dagger, Jason Beckler, Earl Wilson, and others. Don’t make it sound like we’re not in danger. That won’t help us.”

“Wait, you mean Malcolm Davis?” Bailey asked.

“Yeah,” Howard said. “They were trying to use Sherry against us.”

“She told you that?” Bailey asked.

“Yes, she did,” Scott said. “And I believe her.”

“So why go get the girl?” Bailey asked.

“For fun and revenge,” Scott said. “You in?”

“Of course,” Bailey said. “I want that bitch.”

“Well, I found her,” Scott said. “All these kids and their phone apps. Ever heard of Find My Friends?”

“Yeah, it’s that app that comes on the iPhone.”

“That’s it,” Scott said. “Easy to hack. I just got into her account. She’s in this dorm room right now.” Scott showed his screen to Bailey.

“Whoa,” Bailey said. “So now what? We can’t get her in the dorm. People will see us.”

“We need to get into the area and watch,” Scott said. “You’ve got an iPhone, right?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Good, then I’ll get you set up to monitor her. Hand it over.”

“It’s in my purse,” she said, trotting off to the living room.

“Really, Scotty? I can’t talk you out of this crap?” Howard asked quietly.

“No, you can’t, Howie. Now get with the program.”

“We’ll get pinched as soon as we get my class C out on the roads.”

“What makes you think we’re taking that?” Scott asked, grinning. “We’ll take the car that came with this place.”

“What car?”

“An 85 Chevy station wagon. It’s in the garage. I’ve had the battery on the charger. It’s clean. The old lady quit driving it in about 1995. Didn’t take much to get it running again.”

“We’ll have to kill her on the scene, then,” Howard said. “People will see her in the windows.”

“Let’s decide when we get there,” Scott said.

“Here’s my phone,” Bailey said, handing it over. Scott took it and got her set up to monitor the girl.

“What’s her name?” Howard asked.

“Michelle Hamilton, from Atlanta,” Scott said. “You guys ready?”

“What about Kerry?” Howard asked.

“Does he read?” Bailey asked.

“Good question,” Scott said. “Haven’t gotten around to asking.”

“I’ll leave him a short note,” Bailey said. “Just in case.”

“Okay,” Scott said. He got up, looking at Howard. “Coming?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, standing as Bailey wrote the note.

They went out the back door and walked to the garage. Scott unlocked the padlock and lifted the door.

“It’s dark back here,” Bailey said.

“That’s a good thing,” Howard said. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and shined the flashlight into the garage, at the silver station wagon. The garage was cluttered, with barely enough room to get to the car door. The hood was up. Scott disconnected the battery charger, set the wires next to the charging unit, and unplugged it.

“Keep your fingers crossed,” Scott said as he shut the hood.

“I thought you said it runs,” Howard said.

“It’s been a couple of months,” Scott said as he got behind the wheel. He turned the ignition. The car did a dry grind for over a minute. Scott stopped and waited for a few seconds, then tried again. The car turned over slower, but then caught, starting, spewing black smoke. Bailey and Howard backed up to get away from it. The car sunk to an idle, then backed out slowly.

“Get in,” Scott said. “Put your guns on the floor in front of you.”

“Wait a minute,” Howard said. “The gate. Give me the key.”

“Oh, yeah,” Scott said, passing the keys to Bailey, who was in the front passenger seat. Howard took them and unlocked the gate, sliding it over far enough for the car to get through. When it was in the alley, Howard closed and locked the gate, and got into the back seat.

“How far is it?” Bailey asked.

“She was less than a block from where we saw her before,” Scott said. They headed down the street. “See, this old bird runs good.”

“Looks good too,” Howard said. “That might not be so great. How many mint 1985 station wagons are out there? We won’t exactly blend in.”

“It’ll be okay, Howie. At least it’s dusty.”

“She’s on the move,” Bailey said, looking at her phone.

“Where?” Scott asked.

Bailey laughed. “There’s a park right there. I think she’s jogging.”

“No, seriously?” Scott said. “This will be easy.”

“Yeah, well she probably has her pepper spray,” Howard said.

“I’ll run up behind her and get her into a nelson,” Bailey said. “I’m fast. Ran track in High School. That was only a couple years ago.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Scott said. “Howard, you get in the driver’s seat when we get there, and you can drive getaway.”

“You’re not really going to take her back with us?” Howard asked. “Why don’t you just do her in the park? Shoot her and we’ll split.”

“I want to play with her,” Scott said.

“Me too,” Bailey said, looking back at Howard with a nasty grin.

Howard shook his head.

“Turn there, Scotty. To the right.”

“Okay, Bailey,” he said, making the turn. The park stretched out before them.

“I can’t believe this chick is jogging at night, just a day after an attempted kidnapping,” Howard said. “Doesn’t smell right.”

“You worry too much, Howie,” Scott said. “There, is that her?”

“Looks like it,” Bailey said. “Cute girl.”

Scott parked along the curb, and got out with Bailey, putting his pistol in his back waistband. Bailey trotted over to the path and started running. She saw the girl about fifty yards ahead of her. She sped up, and could hear Scott huffing and puffing behind her.

Howard watched from the driver’s seat of the car, but he could only see them until they made a turn into the wooded section of the park.

Bailey poured on the speed now, catching up to the girl. She didn’t hear Bailey coming because of her ear buds. Bailey leaped, her arm going around the girls neck, crashing her to the ground. The pepper spray flew out of the girls hands. She tried to reach it as Bailey held her down. Scott got there in seconds, picking up the pepper spray and shooting it into the girls face. She cried out in pain, and Bailey punched her several times in the head, knocking her out.

“Freeze!” said a voice behind them. “FBI!”

Scott pulled his pistol and shot the girl.

“Dammit,” the agent said, tackling Scott. “That wasn’t nice.” He got Scott’s gun away from him and tossed it on the grass. Bailey ran, but the Agent shot her square in the back, and she fell.

“No!” Scott yelled. The FBI agent elbowed him in the nose, sending pain radiating all over his face.

“Get up,” the Agent said.

Howard heard the shots and was starting the engine when he saw a gun pointing at him through the driver’s side window. He sighed and shut it off, tossing his pistol into the back seat. A huge man with long black hair smiled in at him.

The agent with Scott put handcuffs on him and stood, picking up Scott’s gun from the grass off to the left.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, his nose bleeding.

“Shut up,” the agent said gruffly. He carried Scott’s gun over to Bailey, wiped it off, and put it into her dead hand.

“What the hell kind of FBI agent are you?” Scott asked, looking at him wide-eyed.

“I said shut up,” the agent said, kicking him in the side, knocking the wind out of him. He pulled Scott to his feet and started towards the station wagon.

“I’ve got this one, Agent Keith,” said the man standing by the car. “His pistol is in the back seat.”

“Nice work, Sy,” Agent Keith said. “You’re going to ride over to their place with me, and then I’ll let you go.”

Sy eyed him with distrust. “How do I know you’ll destroy my file?”

“You’ll just have to trust me,” Agent Keith said. “Hold onto this guy.”

Sy steadied Scott, his gun pointing into his side. “Don’t move, buster.”

Agent Keith grabbed the hand gun out of the back seat and put it in his belt. “Any other guns in here?”

“No,” Howard said.

“Good. Sy, take that guy around the back and slide him in, then get in the back seat and keep your gun on him.”

Sy nodded and yanked Scott roughly towards the back.

“What are you guys gonna do with us?” Howard asked, trembling. “Your friend Sy is no FBI agent.”

“No, he’s just helping me out. I’m getting in the passenger seat. You’ll be driving us back to your hideout.”

“What about Bailey?”

“She’s dead.”

Sy got into the back seat and turned sideways, his gun pointing at Scott.

“Okay, drive,” the Agent said. “And no funny business, or I’ll plug you.”

Howard started the car and pulled away from the curb.

“Hey, Howard, this jerk weed stuck my gun in Bailey’s hand,” Scott said.

“Shut up,” said the agent.

“Now why would you want to do that, Agent?” Howard asked.

“It’ll look like Bailey shot the girl,” Scott said. “But your lead is in Bailey. How are you gonna get around that?”

“I’m not.”

“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Howard asked.

“Agent Keith,” he said.

“Shit, I know who this guy is,” Scott said. “You got humiliated by Malcolm Davis. Twice. Now I’m getting this.”

“You aren’t going use us to trap Davis, are you?” Howard asked, hands sweating around the steering wheel.

“I have no plans to kill Malcolm Davis,” Agent Keith said.

Howard laughed. “Yeah, whatever. Here’s our alley. The gate has a padlock.”

“Who has the keys?” Agent Keith asked.

“I do,” Howard said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled them out, and Agent Keith took them.

“Here, Sy, you can do the honors,” Agent Keith said, handing the keys back to him.

“I can go after that, right?”

“After I get them in the house.”

“There’s the gate,” Howard said. He pulled to a stop and Sy jumped out. He got the gate open in seconds, and waited for the wagon to drive in, then pulled it shut and locked it.

“Anybody else in the house?” Agent Keith asked.

“Just Scotty’s little brother. He’s retarded.”

“Oh, the other twin?” Agent Keith asked.

“How’d you know about that?” Scotty asked.

“I was the first agent on scene at that biker massacre you guys did,” Agent Keith said. “His body was dumped in the barn like trash.”

“Fuck you,” Scott said.

“Whatever. Sy, you take Scott, and I’ll handle this guy. If the kid gets in our way, plug him.”

They started towards the back door.

Malcolm’s Jeep Unlimited
slowed as it cruised down the street.

“That’s it, at the end of the block,” he said. It was a two-story building, with a storefront on the ground floor and a residence on the second.

“Don’t go up any further,” Jackson said. “There’s somebody up on the roof. See him? He’s got a rifle.”

“You’ve got good eyes, Jackson,” Malcolm said as he pulled to the curb. “Wonder if I can get close enough to take him out with the cross bow?