Pursuit of the Apocalypse (14 page)

The crowd cheered at this and others moved forward into the line of CRAP agents. The fears of the crowd were quickly swallowed by hugs and their tears were wicked away by plush animals.

Jerry shook his head at the sight and pulled a woman’s glove from his pocket. He kneeled down next to Chewy and held the glove in front of the dog’s nose. “Are you ready to find Erica, girl?”

The dog barked and sniffed at the glove. Then she began to lick it. She was no scent hound, but he knew that her nose worked better than his, even if she hadn’t been trained for it. “Can you find her, girl?”

Chewy barked and sniffed at the air in all directions. She barked again and started moving toward the crowd.

Jerry tucked the glove back in his pocket and followed.

Even at a walk the mastiff moved quickly on long legs and Chewy was soon well ahead of him. The Librarian kept an eye on the dog but continued to search the people around him. Most had formed in lines as they waited their turn to get a hug from a counselor, but others had begun to wander off. Maybe they had their own stuffed animals at home to console them. Or, maybe not. Not all misery loved company. Or teddy bears.

Chewy barked again and regained his attention. She picked up speed. He began to walk faster. The dog barked again and ran into the marketplace with little regard for anyone following her. He lost her as she disappeared among the tables and booths. Jerry broke into a run and reached the edge of the marketplace. Soon he saw her, head down and tail wagging furiously as she dug her head into a basket of bread.

He couldn’t call after her without drawing attention. He’d have to pull her out of there quietly. He looked around to make sure nobody had noticed the dog. Everyone still seemed focused on the counselors. He looked over his shoulder and saw a figure in white walking along the edge of the square.

He turned and watched the figure disappear around a corner. He knew that hat. Chewy could have the bread.

The Librarian jogged towards the path the figure had taken until he was far enough away from the crowd. Then he ran.

Jerry turned the corner in time to see the man in white take another pathway behind another building. He ran harder. Desperation drove his steps. The man in white knew where Erica was. And he was going to tell him what he knew no matter how many punches to the face it took.

Every turn Jerry took was one behind his target, but he was getting closer. He turned down an alley in time to see the man move behind a brick barrier at the back of a building.

Jerry slowed at the edge of the wall and moved silently along its edge. The man in the white suit stood at the back door of a campus building fumbling in his pockets.

The Librarian charged. He collided with Mr. Christopher and drove him into the steel door. He landed two punches to the man’s right kidney, slammed his head in the door and spun him around while placing a forearm across his throat.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man smiled and chuckled. “Well, if it isn’t the library guy.”

The cut above his eye. The scar above the other one. The laugh. It wasn’t Mr. Christopher. It was one of the cowards from the steakhouse. Jerry raised his fist to strike.

Whatever went over his head was rough and heavy. Canvas probably. It smelled musty and blocked out all of the light. He jumped backwards hoping to collide with the unseen bagman. Instead he tripped over an outstretched leg and stumbled backwards into the side of a dumpster.

The last thing he heard was someone saying, “hithimhithimhithim” before another somebody listened.

EIGHTEEN

“And you said it wouldn’t work.” Coy spat out a glob of blood attached to a tooth and walked over to their bagged prey. He kicked the bag to make sure it wouldn’t move. It didn’t move. So he kicked it again.

“You wanted to use a net,” Willie said as he dropped the shovel he’d used to knock the library guy unconscious. “My idea worked much better.”

“It’s a bag. It’s the same thing as a net. Don’t try and take credit for my plan.”

“A bag is totally different than a net. A net has holes, and if there were holes he would have seen that blow comin’.”

“No he wouldn’t have.”

“Face it, Coy. Your plan, like a net, had a lot of holes in it.”

“Shut up, Willie. We caught him, didn’t we? All because of my plan.”

“We can keep arguing about how my plan was better, or you can pick him up and we can get on our way.” Willie reached for the man’s feet. “Get his arms.”

“They’re in the bag.”

“Just get his arms, Coy!”

Coy shrugged and bent down to grab their catch by the arms. He struggled to get his own arms under the body enough to lift it. He tried to roll the man over for a better grip and ended up twisting the feet out of Willie’s hands.

The feet dropped to the ground, and Willie sighed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get a better grip.” Coy rolled the library guy on his side and worked an arm behind the man’s back. He grabbed an armpit through the bag and lifted.

Willie picked up the feet again and they began to move. They worked their way around the dumpster before Coy started to stumble. “Hold on. Hold on. Waitwaitwaitstopstopstop.” He lowered the library guy back to the ground.

“What now?” Willie was losing his patience. Coy could see it every time they had to stop.

“He’s heavy,” Coy said.

“No he isn’t. You’re being a wimp.”

“You don’t know. You’ve got the feet. The feet are the lightest part of the body.” Coy lifted the man again. They only moved a few more feet before he collapsed under the weight. “Gah,” Coy gasped as the library guy fell on top of him. “He didn’t look this heavy.”

Willie dropped the feet in disgust. “Well, you don’t look that stupid.”

“What the hell, Willie? It was a good idea. You said so yourself.”

“Well I was wrong. A good idea would have had a wheelbarrow in it, now wouldn’t it? Or one of those carts they use to move stacks of beer around on. Or a skateboard, at the very least.”

Coy threw up his arms and shouted, “So now I have to think of everything?”

“Not everything,” Willie said. “Just a wheelbarrow!”

“You’re just mad because I finally came up with a plan that works. Willie the Wonder Thinker finally has some competition and he can’t handle not being the only one with any smartness.”

“I’m mad because we’re stuck here with a body that’s worth a ton of money that we’ll never see because Can’t Lift Shit Coy can’t lift shit.”

Coy tried to make an argument, but an idea got in the way. He smiled and said, “You’re wrong.”

Willie was satisfyingly silent. Coy let it play out for as long as he could before explaining. “The price isn’t on him. It’s on his head.”

“The head is attached to his body, moron.”

Coy stepped around the dumpster. There was bang and a scrape and he returned with Willie’s shovel. “It doesn’t have to be.” Coy raised the shovel above his head like an axe and smiled.

“Whoa,” Willie stopped him. “What are you doing?”

Coy stopped. “Well, he’s really heavy, right? So we’re going to make him easier to carry. We’re going to cut off his head. It’ll make him lighter.”

“It’ll make him deader too, stupid.”

Coy smiles. “So. All we need is his head. You heard that Christoff guy say that, right?”

Willie smiled and nodded. “He did say that.”

“Now, I’m no doctor, but the head has got to weigh less than the whole body. Right? That’s just math.”

Willie laughed. “I do believe you are right, Dr. Coy. Please proceed with the, uh, procedure.”

Coy laughed and handed Willie the shovel. He began to remove the bag from the library guy. “I’ll pull him out of the bag so you can cut off his head better.”

“Wait. Why do I have to cut off his head?” Willie pushed the shovel back at Coy. “It was your idea.”

“Right,” Coy agreed and pushed the shovel back at Willie. “It was my idea for you to cut off his head.”

Willie pushed the shovel back. “No, you do it.”

Coy pushed it back towards Willie. “I don’t want to do it.”

Willie pushed back. “You do it.”

Coy pushed back. “No. It’ll be gross. You do it.”

Back. “It was your idea.”

And forth. “Well, I’m sure you’ll take my plan and make it better. That’s what you do, isn’t it, Mr. Bag?”

Back. “Well, yeah, but you’re better with a shovel than me. So I think to make the plan better, you should do it.”

And forth. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. How am I better at shoveling?”

Back. “You remember that time we borrowed Old Man Weathers’s truck because we thought he died right in front of us and wouldn’t be needing it anymore, but it turned out he was just sleeping because he had that condition that makes you sleep whenever?”

“Oh yeah, what was that called? Started with an ’N.’”

“Necrofeelya.”

“That’s it.”

“So then we had to bury the truck to hide it. And boy, Coy, you did some really great diggin’ that day.”

Coy smiled as the memory came back to him. “I did. Didn’t I?”

“I’ll say. We could have buried two necrofeelyas’ cars in that hole.”

Coy nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it. Get the bag off. We don’t want to get it bloody. It’s a good bag.”

Willie slapped Coy on the back and dropped to the ground. He pulled the bag from the library guy’s head and backed away. He gestured to the body with a bow. “You take the honors, sir.”

“Why, Willie. You’re such a gentleman.” Coy placed the tip of the shovel at the library guy’s throat. “Now, the secret to good shoveling is all in the angle, see? That way when you jump on the shovel it—”

“Just cut the fucker’s head off, Coy.”

“Right.” Coy took a step back and bent at the knees. He figured one good jump should do it. Just one jump and the head would pop right off.

The shriek of a hawk stopped him before he could leave the ground. Coy couldn’t see what had made the noise from behind the dumpster, but he didn’t need to. He knew what it was. Willie was standing back far enough to see what was happening and his face answered the question Coy was about to ask anyway. “What was that, Willie?”

Hawk’s voice filled the alleyway. “You thought you could escape my Talons of Vengeance, but my Wings of Retribution have brought me here to deliver, uh, a Pecking of Revenge.”

Coy grabbed the bag and spread it out over the library guy before sticking his head out from around the corner of the dumpster.

Willie waved at the gang leader. “Oh, hey, Hawk. Uh, how’s it going?”

“Justice has found you. And it has swooped ... swept ... no, swooped down to hold you accountable for your crimes.”

Willie looked at Coy. Coy could only shake his head in confusion, so Willie asked, “Um ... what?”

“You stand accused!” Hawk said as he began to pace the width of the alleyway.

“You are accused of murder for the deaths of several Iron Eagles.” He reached the edge of the alley and turned.

“You are accused of impeding the Iron Eagles whilst in pursuit of their happiness.” This accusation took him near the wall where he turned again.

“You are accused of using nefarious means to lure, seduce, and or entrap the Iron Eagles into a web of deceit and lies.”

He stopped in the middle of the alleyway. “You are accused of being fucking retarded! How do you plead?”

“Really, Hawk.” Coy tried to sound like he wasn’t whining, but he knew he sounded like he was whining. But, that was what happened when you were more scared than you’d ever been before. “We were just trying to help. Honest.”

“Yeah. Coy’s idea was to block the road so you could catch the library guy. He didn’t mean to kill all your men.”

“Shut up, Willie!” Coy took a step forward. “I didn’t mean it, Hawk. I’m really sorry those guys died but—”

“How do you plead?” Hawk fumed as his men spread out across the alley. Falcor shook on his shoulder.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Willie raised his hand. “Shouldn’t we get a lawyer?”

Hawk yelled, “What?”

“Yeah,” Coy said. “If we’re on trial, we should get to have a lawyer. That’s how trials work.”

Hawk rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine.” He turned to his men and pointed to one. “Carson. You were a lawyer, right?”

Carson was balding, small, and there was a hunch to his posture. He shook his head and answered, “Orthodontist.”

“Whatever. Now you’re a lawyer.” Hawk pointed to the two men. “Go be their lawyer.”

Carson shrugged and stood next to the two accused.

“How do you plead?” Hawk shouted once the new lawyer was situated.

Carson whispered, “How do you guys plead?”

“We’re innocent,” Coy whispered.

“Yeah,” Willie agreed. “We plead not guilty.”

“Okay.” Carson nodded and turned back to the Iron Eagles. “They plead guilty, Hawk.”

Hawk nodded. “That’s some good lawyerin’, Carson.”

“You’re a shitty lawyer, Carson,” Willie said.

Coy agreed. “Yeah, Carson. You suck.”

Hawk pulled out a monstrous revolver and raised it above his head.

“Hey. How did you get a gun in here?” Coy asked. “They don’t allow guns in here.”

Carson laughed. “What? Did you morons come in the front door?”

“This court finds you guilty as charged,” Hawk said as he lowered the gun and swung the cylinder open. He pulled two massive cartridges from his vest pocket and dropped them into the cylinder before snapping it shut.

Coy felt a tinge of cold in the back of his knees. He had never seen a gun that big. It was more than a foot long and looked like a section of sewer pipe with a trigger attached. Coy jumped behind the orthodontist and wrapped an arm around his throat.

Willie stepped behind Coy and yelled, “Don’t shoot! We’ve got Carson!”

“Don’t worry.” Hawk raised the gun and closed one eye. “This shoots through Carsons.”

Carson shouted as loud as the arm across his neck would allow. “Hawk! You can’t do this.”

Hawk pulled the hammer back. The click was the loudest Coy had ever heard.

Coy spun Carson around and reached into the orthodontist’s coat. He found the Iron Eagle’s gun under his shoulder and pulled the trigger as fast as he could.