Kit Crumb - Body Parts

“C’mon, you’re right it leads to the surface,” Crystal said. But Claire didn’t make a move, didn’t say a word. “Claire, c’mon. Claire, what’s wrong?”

Simms didn’t have to wait long for Derrick and Bonnie. He heard them talking as they half jogged, half walked down the trail. Without showing himself, he shot Derrick in the side of the head. Bonnie bolted down the trail toward the clinic. Simms stepped out onto the trail leveling his pistol at her head. He pulled the trigger, but missed, hitting her in the right shoulder. The shot knocked her to the ground, but she was up and running before he could get off another shot. He quickly checked Derrick’s pulse, then stepped around the body. When he reached the grass clearing that led to the clinic, he slowed to a walk. Bonnie was nowhere in sight but he could see blood on the door handle.

Pulling open the door, he found the hall empty. But there was blood on the floor.

“Bonnie, I heard shots. Are you hurt?” he called out.

No answer. Simms imagined her lying unconscious on the floor in one of the clinic rooms. When he stepped around into the first exam room a blur of red came out of nowhere slamming him in the face, breaking his nose and knocking him backwards. He staggered to catch his balance but was struck again by the fire extinguisher, this time in the groin. Tentacles of pain shot into his abdomen driving him to his knees. Bonnie followed him out the door and pushed him over onto his back. Raising the extinguisher high, she plunged it down aiming for his groin, but the move was too obvious and ponderously slow. Raising the gun, extending his arm full length, Simms fired several shots into her at near point blank range knocking her back through the door and onto the floor.

Ignoring the throbbing from his broken nose and the urge to curl up into a fetal position from the pain between his legs, Simms staggered to his feet and stumbled down the path toward the mine.

He cleared the trees and crossed the clearing just as Hubble came out of the mine. Hubble didn’t see the gun until Simms had it leveled at his chest. Neither spoke. Simms fired three shots driving Hubble against a boulder next to the entrance of the mine. He didn’t see the three figures moving through the woods in the direction of the mine. He picked up the flashlight Hubble dropped and began scanning the walls for the C4. Finding all twelve plugs, he discovered the detonator just outside the morgue, picked it up and put it in his pocket.

“Hubble, efficient to the end,” Simms’s said as he limped back to the entrance.

When he was clear of the opening, he turned to face the mine and began walking backwards, finally stopping near the middle of the clearing. His attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of running feet. Before he could turn to see what was happening, someone tackled him around the ankles, knocking him to the ground. His right arm was yanked behind his back urging him to his feet. Two men stepped into view.

“Where’s Rye Anderson?” the taller of the two demanded.

Simms blinked and shook his head, totally confused.

The shorter man stepped forward delivering a savage punch to his stomach. The arm behind his back wouldn’t allow him to bend over, as the convulsions demanded.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Where is Anderson?”

The smaller man stepped forward and spoke to the man holding Simms in an arm lock.

“Turn him loose, Phil.”

Bobby Panther snapped off a right jab to Simms’s already broken nose, but the scream was masked by the blast from a shotgun.

Paul Casey and Bobby Panther whipped around to see a woman standing there, chest-heaving, shotgun pointed directly at them.

The woman chambered another shell. “Peter, get over here.” Simms limped past Bobby Panther. Jamming his hand into his pocket, he pulled out the detonator. Staggering next to Rosie, he held out his hand, thumb poised over a bright red button. He pressed it.

The blast knocked over the Panther brothers and drove Paul Casey up against a tree, driving a huge cloud of dust out of the mouth of the mine that covered nearly the entire clearing. By the time they got to their feet, Rosie and Simms were gone.

“Everyone alright?” Paul said, between coughs.

The brothers looked first to the mine, then the trail.

“Shit, what the hell happened?” Bobby asked.

Paul ignored the question. “Phil, get down the trail after them. Bobby, go back the way we came, on the run, block the gate with the car. I’m staying to search the mine.”

Rye slowed to a jog when he lost his light to the first bend in the tunnel. He would have fallen in the same vertical shaft that trapped Crystal if he hadn’t stopped to listen to the sound of voices. For a moment, he thought he recognized the voice of one of the guys who kidnapped him, but shook it off and shuffled past the shaft. When he heard what he thought were female voices he began to run, dragging one hand against the tunnel wall for guidance. In the dim light of the airshaft, he could just make out the image of a woman. As he neared, it became clear that it was Claire. Just as he reached his wife’s side, an enormous blast rocked him backwards; the concussion that followed caused his ears to pop.

Crystal looked up at Rye from her position in the shaft and extended a hand. As he grabbed Claire by the seat of her pants and collar, he shouted, “Go, go, go,” and threw his wife into the air vent, diving in after her.

“I found Bonnie in the hall, Jesus Christ, Peter,” Rosie said. Then I saw Derrick on the trail. Where’s Hubble?”

“In the mine, but he was dead before the blast.”

Rosie stopped running. “Everything’s turned to shit, Christ, turned to shit. What are we going to do?”

Simms reached over and pulled the shotgun from her grip.

“Keep it together, Rosie. We torch the clinic and the mansion and drive out the front gate like nothing’s happened.”

“Like nothing’s happened? Have you seen yourself? You look like you were hit by a truck, the grounds are littered with bodies… and who were those guys?”

Simms ignored Rosie’s ranting and started walking. “There’s no time for this, honey.”

The two moved on in silence until they reached the clinic.

“I’ll take care of the clinic, you torch the house. There’s gas in storage room. Now get going.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’ve never set a house on fire before.”

“Goddamn it Rosie, use your imagination.”

Bobby Panther sprinted down the dirt road leading to Pericolo Lane, keys in hand before he even reached the car.

With tires spinning, he hung a three-point U-turn and skidded onto the pavement headed for the gate. A man in a blue suit and sunglasses stepped out from behind one of the stone pillars.

The guy was built like a linebacker, and waved for him to stop. Bobby was actually slowing down when his door flew open and someone yanked him out. He’d wrestled for twenty years and was undaunted by the giant of a man who had him by the arm. But it was the .45 leveled at his chest and the sharp pain in his arm that stopped him.

Phil Panther nearly tripped over Derrick’s body. There was no reason to stop; he could see by the twist of the head that the man was dead. When he reached the clinic, fire was billowing out the windows. Phil ran around the wood and stucco building searching for a way in but it was too late; he couldn’t get within ten feet of the structure before being driven back by the heat. When he reached the mansion, he opened the front door and called out, but a collapsing staircase drove him back out. Covering his mouth with his shirttail, he entered a side door but the heat was too intense to go on. Pausing to cough and clear his lungs, Phil circled the mansion, and not finding anybody, headed to the front gate.