Public Enemy Zero (20 page)

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Authors: Andrew Mayne

BOOK: Public Enemy Zero
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A few tense moments later, he heard the sound of a key going into the lock on the gate. It opened and then closed. Mitchell waited another minute to see if he could hear any other footsteps. The dock sounded empty.
He lowered himself into the boat and looked around. The gas tank felt at least half full. That would give him a couple hours. He made a note to find an extra gas tank and fill it up when he could so he could avoid having to go ashore whenever possible.
Mitch examined the cable lock. There was no way he was going to be able to just pry it open. The ladder it went through was made from aluminum and was bolted to the dock. It was doubtful he’d be able to rip it free and just take it with him.
He looked around the boat for a likely spot to hide a key. He reached under the wooden center console and tried to find a hook or a peg where the key might be hanging. Nothing. He looked under the console and saw a few cables and a beer cozy. Still nothing. He looked around the floor. Other than two oars, there was nothing that said “key.”
Mitchell checked the gas tank and the outboard motor. The motor was also locked to the boat. There wasn’t anything that looked like it hid a key.
Mitchell moved to the front of the boat and opened up the small compartment at the bow. Inside was the legally required life vest, some cushions, a rope and anchor and more beer cozies. He was about to close the hatch when he got the urge to stick his hand underneath the back edge. He slid it along the smooth inside and then felt something in the space between the hull and where the top of the compartment connected. It was a plastic hook with a small key ring.
Mitchell pulled it out. There were two keys. One for the cable lock and one for the outboard motor lock. Mitchell unlocked the cable and stowed it in the compartment.
There was still something else he needed. First, he had to make sure the boat would run. He figured it would be better to start the boat farther away from the dock and just glide in when he spotted the right boat.
Mitchell pushed off on the pylon and the boat gently glided away from the dock. When he was twenty feet away, he pumped some gas into the engine using the hand bulb on the fuel line and then pulled the starter cord. He was expecting a small battle with the engine but it started right up.
Mitchell steered the boat in a giant arc and went around the front of the marina. He wanted to get one more thing. He knew it was silly, but it would make him feel a little safer.
He spotted the type of boat he was looking for and aimed his little boat toward it. Mitchell killed the engine and drifted toward the boat. He moved to the bow of the boat and caught the other boat with his hands.
Trying to keep the boats from hitting, Mitchell moved the boat toward a dive platform at the stern of the large boat. He tied the smaller boat and then peered into the back of the boat. There were two large gear boxes.
Feeling like a pirate, he climbed aboard the boat with his tire iron.
Fuck
, he told himself,
he was a pirate at this point
. Mitch pushed the flat edge near the lock of one and pried it. The fiberglass around the lock snapped and the lid opened. Inside was a pile of life vests and cushions.
He closed the lid and pried open the other box. This time the lid made a much louder crack as it opened. Inside there was a flare gun, an emergency radio, diving masks and some other gear. He took the flare gun and a few other things and dropped them into his boat.
Mitchell was about to climb in when he heard footsteps again. Still in the back of the larger boat, he squatted down behind the box he had just opened. He waited for the footsteps to pass him by.
Only they didn’t.  
 

 

29
Mitchell stayed down as low as he could, trying to keep his body out of sight of the person on the dock above him. Did they stop because they saw or heard something? Or did they stop because they sensed something like everyone else who attacked him?
He decided to try to wait the person out. Rather than attract their attention and leap into his boat and make a getaway, he wanted to avoid having anybody know he stole the boat at least until morning. And even then he hoped nobody would make the connection right away between him and the boat.
Mitchell waited. He heard shifting feet, but the person wasn’t moving. This was bad. If it had been a security guard, or at least one that didn’t have the rage, he’d probably see a flashlight beam poking around.
This person was using his more basic senses to try to find him. Mitchell could hear a snort as the man took in more air.
How did it work
, Mitchell wondered? Did they get a small amount of his scent and try to zero in on him? Just one more question to add to the list.
Frustrated, Mitchell poked his head around the edge of the box and looked up on the dock. He saw a black man with a beard in a windbreaker who looked to be in his mid-fifties standing there. His face was curled into a snarl as he twisted his head around, smelling the air. The man’s head jerked toward Mitchell.
Damn!
Mitchell cursed himself for not pulling his head away sooner. The man leaped from the dock and into the boat. The floor made a huge crack sound as the man landed.
Mitch shot up and threw himself over the stern and onto the dive platform below. He felt hands reach out and grab at his neck. The man was trying to choke him.
He tried to use his fingers to pull apart the man’s fingers but couldn’t get them to budge. Black spots began to form at the corner of his vision as his brain was cut off from blood. He felt something hot near his right ear as the man opened his mouth to bite it off.
Mitch pulled his knees into his chest, putting his full weight on the man’s hands. The man’s grip didn’t let go as he was pulled farther over the edge. Mitch kicked out against the platform and brought the back of his head against the man’s nose. He heard it crack and could feel the warm trickle of blood on the back of his neck.
The fingers slackened. Mitch wrenched his neck free and collapsed into his stolen boat. Blood returned to his head and the spots faded. He could hear the man behind him climbing over the edge of the larger boat.
Mitch’s hand was on one of the oars. He gripped it like a baseball bat and turned around swinging. The narrow edge of the paddle hit the man in the side of the head. The oar made a loud thwack as it connected.
Mitchell’s attacker slumped and fell over the edge of the boat and into the water. Mitchell leaned out and looked at the man as he lay face down in the water. Unconscious, he was about to drown.
Damn it!
Self-defense was one thing, but leaving a man to drown was another. Especially a man that apparently had no control over his actions.
Mitchell set down the oar and grabbed the back of the man’s shirt. He pulled him toward the dive platform. Mitchell stepped out of his boat and dragged him out of the water and onto the platform.
He felt for a pulse. His hands trembled at the thought of the man regaining consciousness at any moment and biting off his fingers or face. Not any expert by a long shot, he felt something he thought was a pulse. That would have to do.
Mitchell pulled him into the back of the larger boat. He was tempted to try to lift him onto the dock in the hope that when the man awoke no one would notice that Mitchell had broken open the boxes. The risk of having the man come around didn’t seem worthwhile.
Mitchell climbed back into his little boat and shoved off. He started the engine and drove away. He wished he could just head off into the night and drive until dawn, but there was one more thing he needed to do.
 

 

30
Detective Rios parked his police car in back of an evidence van near the car lot. He’d just finished taking statements at the diner and come to take a look at the mayhem. Firefighters had cordoned off an area around the downed power line while workers tried to get power back on.
Mobile work lights hooked up to generators illuminated the damage the out-of-control tractor-trailer truck had caused. Lying on its side on top of a row of crushed cars, it looked like a giant sea creature that had been beached. The shadows of balloons and waving flags on the building behind made it look like one of the accidents his son would stage with his toys.
Rios walked over to the cab of the truck where Simmons was kneeling. “What the hell did the kid do now?” he asked.
“
The people at the diner confirm it was him?” asked Simmons.
“
The ones inside did. The ones outside that chased him away are a little confused.”
“
Like the people back at the mall?” she asked.
“
Yeah.” Rios stood back and looked at the lot from a different angle. He looked at where the trailer had ripped open. There was another row of smashed cars in front of it not visible from the street. A utility worker in a bucket at the end of a crane arm worked to unhook the power cables from the broken pole.
Simmons stood up. “Any idea what he was doing at the truck stop, besides planning the world’s worst joy ride?”
Rios shook his head. “I don’t think he was after the truck. One of the other rigs was broken into. It didn’t look like he was trying to steal it, though. The driver is a bit disoriented right now and can’t tell if anything is missing.”
Simmons waved an arm at the rig. “If all he was after was petty theft, then why go through the trouble of stealing a tractor-trailer truck, driving it a quarter mile and then causing a million dollars worth of property damage?”
“
He’s a one-man doomsday machine. It’s what he does,” said Rios.
Simmons shook her head. “I don’t buy it. The kid’s got no priors. No history of domestic abuse. Nothing even marginal. Unless some Facebook photos pop up of him wearing women’s underwear while reading ‘Soldier of Fortune,’ I think we’re dealing with a person who is just reacting to everything that happened today.”
“
Sometimes people just snap,” said Rios.
“
I don’t buy that. People with erratic behavior sometimes go way out of line and do something horrific, but there’s almost always signs there before.”
“
The breakup with the girlfriend,” replied Rios.
“
What about it? Everybody goes through breakups. I think we’re just looking at it as a convenient explanation.” Simmons paused for a moment. “I saw his girlfriend’s face, but I also saw the boyfriend, too. I don’t know if it’s what it looks like. We’ve been so focused on the mall, we haven’t even done any proper forensics.”
Rios folded his arms. “What about the parking officer?”
“
I don’t know. We just don’t know yet. When you talked to the people at the diner, the ones inside, did they say anything different than what other witnesses have said?” asked Simmons.
“
They could identify him. Not much else.”
Simmons bit the edge of a nail as she thought. “What did they say about the people who chased after him?”
Rios pulled a notebook from his back pocket and looked at it. “They said it looked like they wanted to kill him, which is understandable.”
“
Did they say ‘kill’ specifically?”
Rios looked back at his notes. “One of them said ‘murder.’ Another said ‘tear apart.’”
“
Those are some pretty harsh words for someone doing a smash-and-grab.”
“
I think after what happened at the mall today half this city would like to murder him.”
Simmons held up a finger. Something just came to her. “You said the people chasing him didn’t know who he was?”
“
Yeah, but they saw the other man chasing after him.”
“
The trucker with the gun? They didn’t know him, either?” asked Simmons.
“
Yeah, he was the one who caught him breaking into the other truck.”
“
Wait a second.” Simmons looked down the street toward the truck stop. “If you hear a gun go off and look out the window and see a man running away from another man with a gun, who do you think the victim is, assuming the guy with the gun isn’t a cop?”
Rios arched an eyebrow.
Simmons continued. “The men in the diner who went outside, automatically, without hesitation, go into vigilante mode and decide to chase after Mitchell Roberts? They ignore the man with the gun and decide they have to murder the guy trying to run away? That’s messed up. It doesn’t make sense.”
Simmons walked over to the hood of the truck. She kneeled down to look at a bloody smear near the driver’s side door. “Did the men who chased him have any injuries?”
“
A few. I saw some cuts on their faces and a lot of bloody knuckles.”
“
From what?” asked Simmons.
“
Trying to get him out of the cab, according to the people in the diner.”
“
Who uses their forehead to try to smash open a window?” She pointed to a bloody print on the metal bracing around the windshield. “Or beats their hands into a pulp smashing a steel frame?”

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