Multiples of Six (8 page)

James looked about for something, anything to use in his defense. A light had come on in the nearby house, presumably the owners of the can he had just crashed into. Call 911. Call 911. Wait, do they even have 911 out here? Then Paynter’s voice spoke in his head, “They are the police.” Crap.

“Don’t try and get away, James,” Taylor shouted.

“You’re persistent,” James said, standing and wincing at the pain in his ankle, “I’ll give you that.”

“Paynter isn’t here to rescue you now,” Taylor said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t rule that out,” James said, and he heard the car before Taylor did, “I have a few more friends than you.”

“Oh, I--” Taylor said.

Then, he not only heard the car, but saw the Chrysler 300M slide haphazardly out of the hotel parking lot, tires spinning, and into the road, headed right toward him.

“…shit!”

James watched as Taylor stared at the car in disbelief, grappling with the choices of capturing James or being run over. The car made a bead for him and the man lifted the gun toward it. The engine was gunning, and the tires were furiously fighting with the snow to hurtle down upon the man. He leapt out of the way as the car skidded between James and the man. Both doors opened, and Nicole and Kevin were both screaming something unintelligible. James didn’t need the hint. He threw himself into the back seat and slammed the door behind him. He heard her foot pound the gas pedal. The tail fished in the slush, but the tires found some traction, throwing James back in his seat. He massaged his leg as he tried to sit up. He realized Nicole was crying furiously, wiping her hair from her damp face. She was possessed, turning every few blocks, and gunning the engine along snowy side streets.

“He killed him,” Kevin finally said, his voice low.

“He shot him…in the parking lot…” Nicole blubbed.

“Paynter?” James said, and Nicole nodded, her hair flailing.

“A man in a black coat and hat,” she sobbed between words, “The gun…it didn’t make…a sound. He just raised it and…and shot him…square in the chest and…and then walked away.”

Chapter 17

Taylor watched as the car sped away, fishtailing up the road and violently around a corner. He wiped his cold, damp brow and quietly cursed himself. He rolled onto his side and pushed on the ground to get up. A shove to the back threw him back down into the snow. He tumbled into the slush on the road and pointed the gun in the direction of his would-be assailant. The man in black kicked him again and barked a harsh laugh.

“Use it, ya fool! I don’t know why you even carry the goddamn thing,” he said, the light from the hotel parking lot, casting a shadow under the brim of his cap.

He brushed some snow from his own gun. The silencer barrel gleamed in the light from the street lamp. A window opened on the second floor in the house nearest to them. The owner loudly recommended that they finish their business and move elsewhere or he would have to notify the authorities, only in much more colorful terms. The man in black turned to the crew-cut coifed man leaning out the window. That man had just realized that both of the men in the street were carrying guns. The silenced weapon was brought to level with the second story window.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” said the man in black.

The man in the window cursed and ducked out of view just before two rounds pierced the sill.

“Holy shit,” Taylor said and he moved quickly to his feet and started toward the parking lot.

“Where are you going?” said the man in black, as he strode to catch him up.

“Where’s Paynter?” Taylor said.

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

Taylor spun on his heels, stopping the man in black in his tracks. They were nose to nose, though Taylor gave up at least four inches.

“What’s the matter, Doc? Still have some of those old feelings for your pal?” the man spat.

“He didn’t…need to die,” said Taylor.

“Need. Need? Why does there always have to be a need? He was on the list. There’s your need.”

His smile disappeared. He moved so quickly, that it took a moment for Taylor to realize that he was no longer holding his own gun. The man in black had disarmed him and wrenched him by the collar.

“If I believe there is a need for someone to die, then I will make it so. Paynter was in the way. Those kids become that much less to deal with, without him. They have nothing without him.”

“You sound so sure,” said Taylor, the tip of his lip bleeding down his chin.

“I am, that’s why they sent me,” and the smile returned as he loosened his grip on the doctor’s collar.

“And what of Paynter?” Taylor said.

“What of him?”

“You’re just going to leave him there?” Taylor asked.

“Um…let me think about that one…yeah, let’s go,” the man in black said without really thinking.

They walked like men on a casual stroll back to the parking lot. The man in black handed Taylor back his gun.

“Try not to shoot your dick off,” the man said.

He stopped suddenly and threw a hand against Taylor’s chest to stop him. It knocked the wind out of Taylor for a moment and he rubbed the spot, looking at the man in black with renewed hatred. Just as quickly, the man started moving again, this time with a quicker pace.

“Better get our boogie-shoes on, Doc. The po-leece are on their way.”

Taylor hurried after him into the parking lot and toward the Barracuda that was slowly accumulating a new layer of snow powder. He walked over to the passenger side of the car. He waited for the man in black to enter the car, but he didn’t. He was staring over Taylor’s shoulder. Taylor spun around, but saw nothing. Nothing at all.

“What…?” blurted Taylor, just as he realized what it was. “I thought you said you shot him? Where the hell is he?”

The man in black walked to the front of the car, peering around the parking lot. He could see several sets of tracks. There was no body. And there was barely a sign that the man had been there at all. No pool of blood. No red-streaked snow. The sirens were growing louder. The man in black smacked the hood of his car, then ran back to the driver’s door and jumped in.

“God dammit, how could I be so dumb. God dammit! Must’ve had a vest on or something. God dammit. You stupid mother…God…
dammit
!”

They pulled out of the parking lot just in time to avoid immediate pursuit. The man in black pounded the steering wheel, cursing so furiously that it made Taylor fear for his own life. He imagined asking the man if he was still as sure as he was before. He also imagined the beating he would receive for it. It could wait. His time would come.

Chapter 18

“Where are you headed?” James asked.

“No clue,” Nicole said.

“Maybe you should pull over,” James said.

“No,” Kevin and Nicole said at the same time.

“Okay. Maybe we should at least try and find out where the hell we are.”

“Where’s that map?” Nicole asked.

There was a feeble search for it, but the three seemed comfortable with just getting away from where they were. Nicole continued to drive, though with less emphasis on speed. She gripped the wheel so hard that James thought her hands might go numb. She broke out every so often in a fresh set of tears. Kevin stared out into space, occasionally uttering the same phrase, “Unfuckingbelieveable.” James didn’t know what to say to either of them. He felt stupid. He felt like he’d been shown a set of choices that should have seemed obvious and yet he had chosen poorly anyway. He wasn’t used to that. He had never needed to make the tough decisions. Not these kinds of decisions at least. James had been suddenly ripped out of the comfortable world of easy decisions to one where every decision could turn the course of his life…or what was left of it.

“Turn right!” shouted James, startling Nicole into a turn that nearly ran them into the ditch on the far side of the road.

She struggled with the car, allowing it to come to a complete stop in the middle of the road. The windshield wipers squeaked against the glass, brushing uselessly at the heavy wet flakes still falling. Kevin looked over at Nicole. Then they both looked back at James.

“Next time,” Kevin said, looking back at Nicole, “don’t listen to him. Jesus, James! Could you be a little more…oh, I dunno…timely, with your directions?”

“We’ve got to keep going,” she said.

“I know, but let me drive,” James said.

She nodded and opened the door to get out. James climbed out of the car after her, grasped her hands and was surprised by how cold they were. She was shaking and he couldn’t be certain it was from the cold night air. Tear streaks had dried on her cheeks, but her eyes looked ready to provide fresh ones. The snow was catching in her hair. Everything he had felt in the last few hours seemed to be reflecting back at him in her face. Something had changed. She would never look the same to him, and something that had existed for her inside of him had died. He turned to pull the driver’s seat back for her, afraid that she might see that feeling in his face.

She climbed into the back seat. He looked to her for some sort of response, but she simply curled herself into her jacket and turned her back to them. He looked to Kevin, but he was staring blankly out the front window. Kevin looked like he was ready to cry himself. James told himself that their reaction was natural and completely understandable given the circumstances. But, despite what he tried to think, he felt that they were really turning their backs on
him
and leaving
him
alone when he needed them the most. Then he felt guilty for thinking that. The stress was starting to affect them all. He put the car in drive, but only inched forward a foot before stopping again.

He looked around at the sign that had made him turn. The familiar blue and red shield of the interstate system. The same one that had brought them here in the first place. He assumed this because the snow obscured exactly which interstate highway that it was. Being Pennsylvania, the choices were limited. James considered the situation. There was a state of emergency declared, which made driving a problem. At least on a major highway. He stared back over at the sign. It wasn’t clear from where he sat. He gingerly reversed the car several feet to the corner. Interstate to the left. State highway 44 to the right. He reversed some more, hearing the tires struggling to grip the increasingly snowy road. It hadn’t seen a snow plow in at least an hour if not more.

“Heads or tails?” James asked.

Kevin just shook his head.

“Unbelievable,” he said.

James hunkered down behind the wheel and focused on what he could see of the road. With sunrise still several hours off, it would be a long, dark, and quiet remainder of the night.

Chapter 19

Agent John Norris awoke to the sound of a disturbingly loud telephone placed too close to the head of the bed. An accompanying light flashed along with the ring, in case he was so deaf that he could not hear the ear-splitting bell. Only the cheapest motel in the area could provide this added bonus of discomfort. His rapid attempt to silence the racket was nearly fatal for the phone. His crumpled pants cushioned the three-foot fall that the phone made to the floor. He pressed the receiver to his head and spoke, or at least tried to.

“John?” said a somewhat familiar, though tinny, voice on the other end.

Norris pulled the receiver away and coughed out the night’s congestion. This took several hacks that a chain-smoking emphysema sufferer would have been proud of. He tried again.

“Hello?” he said.

“John? You ok?” came the familiar voice.

“Damn cold. Started coming on last Tuesday. Can’t seem to shake it,” Norris said

This was followed by another round of phlegm-dislodging coughs. He placed the receiver down, went into the bathroom, and proceeded to spit the contents of his lungs into the toilet. He returned to find that the familiar voice had begun talking to the end table.

“Den? Start over.”

“Why’d you turn your cell off?” Dennis asked.

“Because I didn’t want to talk to anyone,” Norris said honestly.

“Well, I had a hell of a time tracking you down, but I have my ways,” Dennis said.

“Careful, Den. That’s misappropriation of…errr…something I’m sure,” Norris said.

“I thought you’d approve,” Dennis said.

“What’s going on, Den?”

“We have something in your area.”

“You gotta be kidding,” Norris said.

“No. Something came in over the wire this morning. ‘Round five. When I found out where you were, well…with the storm and all, it’ll be a bit before they can get someone in from Pittsburgh or Cleveland.”

“Out here?” Norris asked.

“Listen, it’s not far up the road from where you are. A place called Springfield.”

“And the locals can’t handle it?” Norris said.

“Well…according to the police, witnesses saw a man get shot.”

“Wow. A shooting. Go figure,” Norris cracked.

“Point blank in the chest,” said Dennis.

Norris put his glasses on and took two deep swallows from the glass of water at the side of the bed. He knew that the water was clean because it tasted just like chlorine.

“Impressive,” Norris said, picking up the remote and turning the TV on.

“Then he got up and walked away,” Dennis added.

“Nice. Why are they wasting my time with this sort of shit, Den. Just because I got stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere in a snow storm, they gotta go and throw something like this in my lap? I’m supposed to be reporting to the Cleveland office today, remember? You know, Cleveland? Where the real crime happens?”

“John, c’mon, don’t shoot the messenger,” Dennis said.

“Nice pun. I’m sorry, Den. I’m just not in the mood to go looking for a body. Can’t they just follow the blood trail?” Norris said.

He flicked between Headline News and The Weather Channel. Neither seemed to offer any good news.

“There wasn’t one,” Dennis said.

There was a moment while Norris waited for the explanation. There wasn’t one.

“And?” Norris said.

“And, there’s a slim chance it’s our man,” Dennis said.

“How’s that?” Norris said. He turned off the TV.

“Someone spotted a ’69 Barracuda. Could be a coincidence, but--” Dennis said.

“How far am I?” Norris coughed again, the phlegm refusing to cooperate with this sudden burst of conversation.

“Couple miles. Listen, there’s a couple witnesses.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“How many saw the shot?” Norris asked.

“One…from about a hundred and fifty yards…through a thin curtain,” Dennis said.

“That’ll be useful,” Norris said.

“Saw the shot. Saw the victim fall.”

“Didn’t see him get up and mosey on away?” Norris mocked.

“Nope.”

“Of course not. Too busy trying to dial 911 on his rotary phone. Any descriptions?”

“Vague. It was at three this morning. Poorly lit parking lot. The other two who saw
something
gave conflicting reports as to how many people were there.”

“Great.”

“The only solid stuff we have is the description of the vehicles.”

“Who’s the contact?”

“A lieutenant by the name of Fields. Chief’s out of town on vacation or something like that. Sounded like the kind of guy who joined the police force in his home town for the uniform and not the potential gunplay.”

Norris laughed harshly, which then turned into a cough and another fit.

“Great. A small town Buford and a walking dead man. Where’s Mulder and Scully when you need ‘em.”

“And John, keep your head up on this one.”

“Oh?”

“They don’t know I’m calling you on this.”

 “Seemed a little small for bureau work,” said Norris.

“Yeah, so don’t stir the pot too much. A flash of the badge and then in and out. Don’t go pissing ‘em off. You haven’t even checked in yet for Christ’s sake.”

“Alright, Den. I’ll check it out. I’ll call you in a couple of hours. Let you know what’s going on,” Norris said.

“Okay. Keep your nose clean, alright?”

Norris reeled with a volley of chest-splitting coughs.

“And, Jesus, do something about that, will you?”

“Yeah, hey, no problem.”

Norris hung up the phone and placed it back onto the end table. He sat on the edge of the bed, boxers and a t-shirt on from the day before. His pants, shirt, tie and jacket lay in a pile on the floor. He breathed deep and felt the air catch in his lungs. He coughed again, the phlegm deep within his chest. Some cold, he thought.

He stood and walked to the curtains. They were that triple-layered burlap design that managed to block out all possible light no matter what time of day. He pulled back the circa 70s fabric. The light from outside was more snow than sun, but he was pleased to see that the abundance of falling flakes had abated. He was less pleased to look down into the parking lot and see that his car was now beneath three feet of snow along with several others parked right next to him.