Crossing Bedlam (16 page)

“So you’re a negotiator sent by that whiney surgeon,” Angela says, sizing the man up while chewing on her glasses. As an afterthought, she tears apart all but one of the release forms and makes a note to have the guards compete for a single position. “You must be pretty good to convince five of our employees to leave. May I ask how you did it?”

“I stuffed them in their lockers.”

“Doubtful. Those things are too small to fit an adult into.”

“Long ago, I took a class that taught me how to handle such a situation.”

“And what class was that?”

“Woodshop.”

The twins stare at Lloyd in shock, their faces turning pale when they figure out what he means. Derek pops a few pills that settle his stomach, the thought of internal organs and flowing blood making him queasy. Noticing that Tina is still confused, he makes a sawing motion against his elbow. Squeaking in fear, the young woman uses her wheeled chair to move as far away from the serial killer as possible. Only Angela manages to regain her composure and smirk, the beginning of an idea forming in her mind.

“I don’t agree with you,” Derek states, easily guessing what his sister is thinking. He tries to take her to the office for a private discussion, but she yanks her arm free. “Something is off about this guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but he gives me the creeps. Reminds me of how the more vicious test subjects eye everyone like a piece of meat.”

“You worry too much, old man. He’s one person and probably spouting nothing more than empty words,” Angela whispers, fixing a few errant strands of hair. Taking a drink from a flask, she licks her lips and shivers in pleasure. “Think of the charge we’d get from watching them take on this challenge. I’m so bored and uninterested because the only people we find are desperate wanderers and low ranking gang members. Do you know how long it’s been since I was touched after a big thrill?”

“I’m going to guess a while considering you’re squirming like you have to pee,” Lloyd interrupts, surprising the twins. Derek blushes and turns away, the man unable to maintain eye contact like his sister. “I’m not really sure what’s going on here. All I know is that I have a list and it needs to be filled. Preferably today because my friend isn’t doing very well. This is a picture of her if that helps you feel inclined to help.”

“You drew a female stick figure holding a gun and the head of another stick figure,” Angela mutters after a brief glance at the picture. For the first time she notices the paintball gun on the man’s back, the ridiculous weapon making her even more excited. “I believe we can make a deal if you do something special for us. Go tell our spouses to meet us at the village, Tina. My brother and I have a treat for them.”

The secretary nods her head and grabs a headset from the desk before hurrying to a private room. Lloyd can still see her through the slightly tinted window as she talks to somebody that is obviously yelling. The woman’s silhouette repeatedly cringes and pulls the earpiece away from her head. When she jumps from a sudden noise, Tina slips off the headset and returns to her desk, her knuckles massaging her aching temples. Popping an aspirin for her headache, the young woman gives a thumbs up to her boss. The common gesture earns her a look of disdain, which makes her wilt in her chair.

“Mr. Blackwell and Mrs. Jenard will be armed and ready for the contest,” the secretary reports, handing a contract to Angela. From a locked drawer, she takes out an old quill pen and dips it in a plastic inkwell. “Do you want me to cancel all meetings and reroute visitors to the guest quarters? This challenge may take longer than normal.”

“I truly hope so,” the businesswoman coos, punching her brother in the arm when he shakes his head. “Stop worrying or you’ll cause trouble. Please follow us and we’ll explain what you have to do to earn your contract.”

“We want you to fight our spouses and the hospital regains the original deal if you defeat them,” Derek blurts out, refusing to let things draw out any longer. A twitch of the serial killer’s lip makes the scientist grind the worn toe of his shoe into the carpeting. “They test some of our drugs and other medical devices. Unlike my sister and me, they are more interested in combat and this is how they contribute to the company.”

“Now that makes a lot more sense than I expected. For a second there, I thought you had a weirder reason for this. I mean, your sister did mention being touched,” Lloyd says as he follows the twins out of the lobby. Derek’s nervous cough and Angela’s smirk causes the serial killer to laugh so hard that he needs to lean against the door. “You freaky bastards. At least the one who might be on her second orgasm by now. This whole spouse facing death thing is what gets you off. If you haven’t come up with a name for this, I want to suggest assassin-philia. A mouthful, pun intended, but it gets the point across.”

Angela takes a deep breath and pats Lloyd on the cheek, ignoring the way he moves his nose away from her fingers. “I do take some pleasure from watching my husband kill other people and he reaps the benefits of my . . . fetish. Derek is the same way even though he hates admitting it out loud. So think of this as doing us a favor and getting what you want in return. I’ll even send the hospital the medicine if you die. As long as I enjoy the fruits of your labors. Do you have a problem with this, Mr. Lloyd?”

“Just call me the little blue pill . . . or Mr. Tenay.”

*****

Lloyd remains behind the off-white couch, paintball gun in hand and eyes locked on the window. He watches the towering figure of Maxwell Blackwell stagger away from the small house, the barely clothed man shouting for the serial killer to come out of hiding. After being teased about his name and how the muscle enhancing patches have turned his skin a sickly yellow, Angela’s husband is barely able to think through his rage. Having already seen how observant the man can be, Lloyd ducks entirely behind the couch before his opponent can turn around. A previous attempt to sneak up on the cocky Head of Security has already resulted in a machete slash across the black-haired traveler’s upper arm. The brief fight has forced the tense killer to sneak into the house after tossing the other man’s severed ear into the street as a distraction.

Taking stock of his situation, Lloyd realizes that he has not seen Jenny Jenard since they were introduced at the beginning of the match. Having a name as ridiculous as Maxwell, the athletic woman came as friendly and playful in the face of her target’s jokes. The company assassin even showed off her prosthetic arm, her rapid explanation skipping over the vials of poison that Lloyd noticed before she could close the forearm compartment. He silently admits that he would have enjoyed spending more time with her, but it is more because she wears a leather halter top and miniskirt that he is sure could be sold as a belt. Then again, he is now keenly aware that Jenny is nothing more than a predator teasing her prey, which is a trick he is not used to be on the receiving end of. Even though she has not been seen, the assassin’s presence has been felt thanks to small blades and machinegun fire erupting from nowhere and narrowly missing the serial killer.

“This thing is not going to help me,” Lloyd mutters, placing the paintball gun on the wooden floor. Taking a look around the simple structure, he strokes his chin and considers how to use the bizarre battleground to his advantage. “Time to talk this out, voices. I have two trained and enhanced killers lurking around an arena made to look like a town from some Saturday morning educational show. Either that or a throwback to the 1950’s, which seems oddly appropriate for this world. Their freaky spouses are watching from a central tower that’s protected with electrified barbed wire and angry dogs. Wait, maybe the dogs were electrified? Eh, I don’t think that would be a good weapon anyway. Wonder how stocked the kitchen is here.”

Lloyd stands up and immediately hears someone scream, his attention going back to the window. He nervously chuckles at the sight of Maxwell smashing through the door and fumbling to draw a massive handgun. The weapon comes free of the holster, but its target is already firing wildly with his recovered paintball gun. The orbs splatter against the impressive figure, one of the bleach balls exploding against an eye. Maxwell roars in pain and tries to fire blindly, but Lloyd dives over the couch and behind a chair. With a sharp whistle, the serial killer gets his enemy to charge and trips him into a glass table. The painful impact and embedded shards do nothing to slow the enhanced fighter down, the blood seeming to seep from the wounds like thick sap instead of flowing like one would expect. A throwing knife flashes between the two men, the acid-laced blade burning a hole in the sofa.

“How exactly did this whole thing start?” Lloyd asks as he stomps on Maxwell’s face for a few seconds. With a single swipe, the large man sends the slender traveler through the wall and into the front yard. “I mean, one has to wonder how you could even stumble onto this kind of fetish. Did your spouses try to have someone legitimately assassinate you and discovered it rekindled the spark? Maybe you two just stopped an enemy that attacked while you were in the middle of the act? I’d go with the first idea after meeting you.”

“Why is that?” Maxwell practically grunts, his voice gravelly and low. The enhancing drugs have made his throat muscles so thick that they are stifling his vocal chords. “I am impressive and perfect, which intimidates Angela. This reminds her that I am human and that she truly loves me. Besides, I am a beautiful physical specimen.”

The serial killer rolls behind a car in the driveway to avoid a tight gathering of bullets that chew up the lawn. “Except that those tight shorts reveal an area that is not being affected by the steroids. Be honest with me, Mr. Specimen. You’ve got an innie instead of an outie down there, right? Nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure you can compensate by being able to lift a small car over your head or do intricate shadow puppets. This does make me wonder how you pleasure a wife as hot and obviously freaky as your wife. Then again, I can’t really say anything because I might be married to a psychopath. Are you just going to stand in the window while I talk or are you going to come at me? I have a feeling that I should be yelling a word after that questionable line.”

The couch comes soaring out of the house and smashes into the windshield of the car. Still fearing the hidden assassin, Lloyd jumps into the open to wave in her general direction and runs backwards as another toxic knife hits the ground. Ducking around the house, he sprints away and moves faster when he hears Maxwell burst through the wall. The larger man steadily gains on the lanky serial killer, but is repeatedly kept out of reach by paintballs to the face. By the time they reach a long grocery store with merchandise painted onto the shelves, Lloyd has blinded his opponent and ducks to the side as the automatic doors open for the larger man. Maxwell runs headfirst into one of the shelves and swings his machete at a human-shaped display, his blurry vision making him paranoid and reckless. He can barely recognize his location and hunkers down in case his enemy is taking aim, the thought of more paintballs to the face making him growl.

Maxwell is stunned by the sound of a revving engine until he touches his waist and realizes his keys are missing. While not having a key for every car in the fake suburb, he has a universal starter that lets him use all of the vehicles. He rushes for the entrance to avoid getting trapped in the building, stopping when he steps on the missing ring. Crouching to grab the metal circle, he is surprised to find the starter is still attached. A car engine roars in his ears, causing him to stumble away and squint to see someone holding out a strange rectangle that he thinks is a cellphone. Maxwell raises his machete to slash at the approaching figure, yelling when Lloyd darts forward and the blade misses. A searing pain rushes through the large man’s head when the paintball gun’s barrel plunges into his eye socket.

“No idea if this will work,” Lloyd says, rapidly pulling the trigger. He watches Maxwell shudder with every shot and eventually collapse to the ground, a mix of powders and fluids seeping out of the man’s nose. “You’re either dead or . . . well I’ll be nice and pray that you’re dead. Always wanted a machete, so this is mine. Does my other playmate, complete with centerfold outfit, want to come out and play?”

The click of a loading gun gives Lloyd enough of a warning to dive into the store, the sidewalk peppered by gunfire. He keeps running because the flimsy roof gives him no protection from Jenny’s machinegun. A loud crack echoes throughout the building before the assassin falls through and lands on her feet. Her prosthetic arm is identified by the seams around her shoulder and elbows, the limb unnaturally lashing out to hurl a small knife into Lloyd’s shoulder. A wave of nausea drives him to his knees while Jenny gets close enough to put her smoking firearm to the back of his head.

“You were a worthy opponent,” the woman says in a shaky accent. She pulls the trigger to find that the weapon is out of ammunition. “How can you be so lucky?”

“Main character status has its perks,” Lloyd replies in a weak voice. The poison in his veins is already starting to fade as he gets to his feet and leans against an empty deli counter. “Not sure what to do here. I know good guys tend to give their enemies a chance to surrender, but that won’t win this thing. Also I’m not like that. Can you turn around or do something to make you seem more like a helpless victim? I’m feeling uncomfortable with this.”

The crackling of an intercom erupts before Angela screams, “Kill that fucking bastard and bring me his head!”

“I’m worried that she didn’t mention which one.”

Jenny draws a combat knife and uses her prosthetic arm to block Lloyd’s machete, the fake flesh getting sliced off her forearm. She slashes him across the belly, which he sucks in to prevent the blade from going deep. The serial killer backs away and fumbles with a hand in his pocket, pulling the cellphone out again. As Jenny rushes under a swing that cuts off the blue streak in her hair, a bright light goes off in her face. Instead of going past Lloyd, she is hit in the face by an oddly playful hip strike to her chin. The machete slams into her back and kills her immediately, the fake arm flailing for a few seconds.