Getting Ugly (12 page)

Tension high. Three guns on Leon against his one. Fingers itch on triggers. Then…

A goat walks across the floor.

Big silence.

A strange pause in this Mexican standoff as Big Ugly’s “friend” trots across the bloody floor. The goat clears the room, on its way to the kitchen. Eyes bounce among the four men. Talley looks to Rasnick. “Call it, man.”

Leon knows the answer before it’s said.

“Kill him,” says Rasnick.

A wave of bullets plow toward Leon. He returns fire with his AR, pumping rapid bursts, but the firepower coming from the other side is a monster. Talley sidesteps while firing, getting a new angle. His foot slips on the slick blood that coats the hardwood, causing his legs to fly out from under him. His finger involuntarily squeezes the trigger as his legs fold. As he lands, the stray bullet-spray carves up his neck and face, the barrel landing on his temple for the final kill shot.

Talley’s body flops to the floor.

Rasnick hasn’t noticed and keeps up the pounding fire on Leon, pushing Leon out of the room. Buster’s brain circuits crossfire with overloading emotions, his head a synaptic car fire.

Leon skids into a room filled with a jaw-dropping display of flowers and plants, birds flying above a sanctuary that is complete with a retractable glass roof that is currently closed. The rain pours down through the moonlight, providing a drum solo rhythm on the glass. Leon reloads, limping his way through the massive, Garden of Eden area.

In the elevator lobby, Rasnick lumbers catatonic over to Buster, who stands over their dead brother neither of them knows exactly what happened. Buster is a frantic, mumbling mess. “Fucking shit.”

“You killed Talley?” asks Rasnick.

“What?”

“You were his primary backup and you failed him.”

Buster’s mind scrambles, no idea how to respond to his brother’s analysis of the situation. “I didn’t mean to dog. He was repositioning and I…I…I…”

“You may as well have shot our brother.”

Buster swallows hard. “Oh come on, man…”

“You always hated him.”

“Not true. Take that shit back. Unfucking true…”

“Bullshit! From day one, you never liked him.”

“We had differences for sure, but not like this.”

“The Green Machine incident of 1985?”

Buster’s eyes moisten. “You gonna throw that in my face? Now, asshole, at a time like this?”

A whistle sounds out from across the room. Buster and Rasnick swivel. Rasnick squints at a man cloaked in shadow.

Buster asks, “Who the fuck are you?”

Rasnick knows. He raises his weapon in an attempt to take down the devil.

A second splits in two.

Buster and Rasnick are each met by a single bullet to the brain. They flop in a heap next to their brother.

L
eon scramble-limps though the doors of an indoor water haven that destroys even the best Cancun party pools. That kick-ass cement pond you saw on Cribs a few years ago? Bullshit compared to this. BIG UGLY is etched in gold, centered perfectly under the rippling water of the gargantuan pool. A raging waterfall lies at the far end, with rock cliffs designed for diving. The retractable glass roof that began in the garden room stretches into this room.

Leon holds his seeping knife wound. The blood doesn’t show too badly through his black REI cargos, just looks like he’s pissed himself—perhaps the only time in his life that Leon wishes that was really the case.

He looks up.

The glass roof has begun to retract, opening up and allowing the rain to dump down. The driving rain pounds Leon. The thunder and lightning dance in the moonlight, providing the mood for his perfect little reunion with…

Big Ugly.

In steps the world’s leading producer of misery, the master of disaster.

He stands on the cliff just behind the waterfall, taking a stance like the God of War—at least in his mind. Slightly battered from his battles with his various guests, but he knows he’s still the goods. The waterfall parts like curtains for him as he steps forward. A samurai sword is sheathed behind his back, a Colt tucked into his lizard skin belt.

Leon’s face goes slack. The object of his personal demise stands a mere pool length away. The man who ruined his existence on this planet, who killed his dreams and pissed on his soul. Leon’s very DNA burns. His face darkens, hate pushing the needle to the point of mental implosion.

Big Ugly grins wide. “Leon.”

“Big Ugly.”

“Been awhile.”

“Too long.”

Big Ugly cocks his head birdlike. “You look like shit, buddy.” Leon flashes a fake smile. Big Ugly keeps pushing buttons. “How’s your ass? Heard you needed stitches. Were there stitches?”

Leon drops the smile.

“I get it confused. If you’re sodomized by a guy wearing a strap-on, does that make you gay? Or is the guy wearing the strap-on gay? I don’t feel gay. Do you feel gay, Leon?”

Leon grips his AR.

Big Ugly cracks his knuckles.
Show time.

Leon can’t hold back any longer. He unleashes years worth of hostility, unloading hyper-burst of relentless lead. With Olympic precision, Big Ugly dives into the pool with very little splash. He cuts underwater like a jet-propelled merman.

Leon continues firing round after round into the pool. He pulls back seeing no sign of Big Ugly. He holds his fire, conserving his ammo. The ripples in the water fade. Only the plops of heavy rain churn the pool as the storm continues to pour down from the dark skies above.

Lightning flashes.

Thunder cracks.

From the dark water springs Big Ugly, swiping his sword at Leon’s legs. Leon hops, the blade barely missing as he fights to take aim on Big Ugly. Before he can get a shot off, Big Ugly whips the sword around cutting the AR in half. Leon drops what’s left of weapon to the tile. Big Ugly leaps from the pool, sword poised for mutilation. Leon tosses a deck chair with everything he has, slipping and sliding trying to make his way to an exit.

Big Ugly dodges the chair with minimal effort. Leon grabs another chair, letting it fly. Big Ugly cuts it into a non-threat. Leon trips over a fallen table. Big Ugly’s sword comes slicing down. Leon rolls, the blade sparking off the tile. Leon lands a foot to Big Ugly’s face, giving him enough of an opening to bolt to for the door.

Leon stumbles through, landing outside the house. Squinting through the driving rain, he realizes he’s entered an MLB level batting cage. He gets to his feet and backs away from the door, waiting, anticipating, Big Ugly’s arrival.

Fwoomp.

A baseball tags him square in the ribs. Leon feels an internal crunch of bone which robs the air from his lungs.

Fwoomp.

Another ball nails his thigh, taking his leg out from under him. Big Ugly charges through the door like an insane Apache, plunging the sword at Leon’s face. He dodges hard left; the blade misses his ear by an inch. Leon falls back, his fingers finding a Louisville Slugger. He slams it into Big Ugly’s nuts.

Gut.

Face.

Big Ugly stumbles from side to side, swallowing back the snot and blood. He fights to clear his vision while tremors rocket from his groin to his feet. He staggers toward a cage door that leads back into the house. Fastballs whizz around them. Some miss. Some don’t. Big Ugly swings his sword with one hand, trying to hold back the blood pouring from his nose with his free hand. He cuts a ball in half.

Leon swings his bat. Big Ugly dodges, returning with a quick jab to Leon’s eye. Leon whips his bat around. Big Ugly can’t get a full swipe, but gets in position enough to block the blow with his blade. The sword and bat lock together, sword stuck deep into the wood. They tug and pull, tumbling back through the door into elevator lobby. They’ve entered the now familiar room from the opposite side.

War rages.

Punches rock.

They are engaged in full-on brutality as they fight to free the sword from the bat. Behind their struggle, the heavy coating of blood spreads across the slick floor glistening in the moonlight. The secret door Rasnick found is wide open.

Leon spots the door just over Big Ugly’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of the stairs leading down. He glances down to the Colt still in Big Ugly’s belt. Leon pumps the sword/bat combo hard into Big Ugly’s face.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Big Ugly’s face busts to shit. His eyes glaze over, his equilibrium thrown off. The sword/bat hits the floor. Leon rears back then bull-rushes, ramming a shoulder hard into Big Ugly like a runaway train striking a tackling dummy. The tangled pair hit the blood-soaked marble at ramming speed, gliding along the blood while tracking a straight line directly toward the secret doorway.

They rip through the door and down the stairs like riding a horrific Slip ‘N Slide.

Chester

A
n angry tumbleweed of humanity screams down the stairs.

A shard of light from the open door cuts through the dark, perfectly framing the pile of Big Ugly and Leon. A mutated mess of arms, legs and hate barrels through, skidding to a stop leaving them in an inert lump on the cold floor.

Leon peels off, wobbling to find his balance. “Do not fucking move.” Leon has managed to get his hands on the Colt during the tumble. He holds it dead on Big Ugly.

Big Ugly is laid out on the floor in a somewhat broken, blood-soaked pile. It’s been a damn rough day. Leon wipes blood from his face and feels around for a way to get the lights on.

Leon’s eyes pop. “Son of a bitch.”

As the room lights up he realizes he’s in a room full of money. A vault made for kings. Leon can’t help but think of when Bugs and Daffy found the genie’s treasure. Stacks of hundreds reach for the ceiling. All the money Big Ugly has taken over the years. The sum of all his labor, his big score. Leon takes a moment to drink it all in. On the floor are two cash-stuffed Nike bags—the ones Rasnick never got a chance to come back to. Big Ugly regards the bags. “Movies make people stupid. Million dollars weighs about twenty pounds. You can’t carry two thousand pounds in two fucking bags.”

“Where is it?” Leon asks.

Big Ugly spits out a tooth. “Where’s what, love?”

Leon spins around looking. “Where’s the video, the records, the files. Whatever you have that is keeping you safe?”

“Oh. You mean, Chester.”

Leon looks to him.
Chester?

Big Ugly motions behind him. Just over his right shoulder is a small platform lit with a warm glow. This is what Rasnick saw.

Leon is dumbstruck. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Displayed like the Mona Lisa in a sealed glass case, lit by a beam overhead, is a gargantuan dildo. Big Ugly grins ear-to-ear. “Had some people put the display together. Vacuum sealed to lock in dead hooker DNA and keep fingerprints crystal clear and incriminating as shit, the way God intended them to be.”

Leon’s mind spins trying to piece together what this could possibly mean. His thoughts come together, only to explode into insane theories. He attempts to work this mental Silly Putty into some form logic. “Senators and Supreme Court judges were mixed up with call girls and you had this? That thing?”

“Who?” asks Big Ugly.

Leon starts over. “Senators. Judges. They don’t want you to give that over to the authorities.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Nature Boy?”

A gun clicks.

A familiar voice speaks.

“Love to have that dildo, son.”

L
eon spins around to find Cooper holding a 9mm in each hand, the right one for Leon, the left for Big Ugly.

Leon, mouth agape, struggles to find the best word. “Fucker.”

“All the guns and goodies I gave you were bugged with tracking devices,” says Cooper.

Leon levels a death stare that sears through his onetime hero slash father figure. His current hate object.

“Sorry, kid. I am a lifer, dedicated to God, country and all that. Believe me, I had every intention of brining that son of a bitch to justice when I recruited you. Truly did. But I’ve got weaknesses, like everybody else. I like the hookers.”

“Who doesn’t?” adds Big Ugly. Cooper plants a shoe to his gut and Big Ugly coughs up some blood with a giggle.

Cooper explains, “This prick got to me while you were in Mexico.” Cooper leans down to Big Ugly. “You really didn’t have to kill all the girls.”

“Yeah, kinda did. See, that’s what makes Chester so sweet, like pumpkin pie. He gives the impression you killed the skanks. Get it?”

Cooper kicks him again. Harder.

“You understand,” coughs Big Ugly.

Leon’s mind churns. “You were the lead on his case. You asked me to go after him, and then when he got dirt on you you sold me out, made all the charges, all intelligence just simply go away?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

Leon explodes, “You fucking piece of shit!”

“Be that as it may.”

“You two need a moment?” asks Big Ugly.

“Shut that goddam mouth,” barks Cooper.

Leon’s guts twist like bread ties. An all too familiar feeling to Leon, that same old feeling that can only come from the being the last to know you’ve been completely fucked over. “I wanted to be a good agent—get it right, live a life to be proud of.” Leon’s eyes glaze over. “You people, you fucking people used me up and shit on what was left.”

“Yeah, kid. I’m gonna need that dildo,” says Cooper dismissively.

Big Ugly slow rolls into laughter. Cooper joins the joke with a snicker. He knows it’s not funny, but there’s something about joining in on a joke that’s irresistible, a
thank God I’m not that guy
sort of thing.

Leon is not remotely amused.

Vibrates with anger.

Blam!

Leon fires a single bullet between Cooper’s eyes. A jet of red pulp shoots across the Nike bags as his body drops. Even Big Ugly is surprised. Leon turns the Colt on him.

Big Ugly springs.

Blam!

Leon’s stray shot misses Big Ugly, but shatters the glass case. Chester wiggles free and flops to the concrete.

Big Ugly’s head fires up like a piston, pulverizing Leon’s chin from below. The Colt skips across the floor and Leon falls as Big Ugly bolts for a back door. Big Ugly hauls ass, retreating beyond the stacks of cash.