Ken Douglas - Dead Ringer

“Shit,” Gay said as the smell of human excrement filled the enclosed space.

“Exactly,” Maggie whispered. Ponytail’s bowels had cut loose. The body jerked for a few seconds, then stopped. Maggie crouched, felt for a carotid, sought a pulse, found nothing. “He’s dead.”

“We gotta go,” Gay said.

“Just a second.” Maggie ran her hands around the ground, found Ponytail’s gun. It was a revolver. She shoved it between pants and back as she got up. “Okay, let’s get the F out of here.”

She stepped over the body.

Another siren ripped up the night.

“The streets must be crawling with cops,” Gay said.

“We’ll go over the fences till we get to the end of the block where we left Jonas’ car. There can’t be that many more.”

“Okay.” Gay gave Maggie’s arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry about him. You did good here. Better than I could’ve. Now, let’s move.”

Maggie sprinted across the yard, Gay on her heels, the collies howling in the background. When she reached the fence, she climbed over, then she was up and running to still another, then another, then another.

“Miserable is how I feel.” Horace closed the door after himself, stepped into Sadie’s small apartment. “Rain’s coming down like it was the Everglades.”

“You gonna leave the car in front? I like it in back, it’s not such a good neighborhood.” Sadie toked on a joint, held it out to Horace.

“I don’t do that stuff.” Horace waved it away. He wanted to take off his wet jacket, stay awhile, but he still had work to do.

“Might make you feel better.”

“I gotta go back out. I just wanted to check, make sure you were alright.”

“I’m okay, babe. Why wouldn’t I be?” She took another hit. It bothered Horace. He didn’t hold with drugs. He’d have to talk to her about that, but not now. Not tonight.

“I didn’t want you worrying about the car, so I brought it back. I can use the van for the rest of what I gotta do.”

“You sure you have ta go?” She draped arms over his shoulders, pulled him in for a languid kiss.

“I got someone in the car. He’s the impatient type, Japanese. I’ll take care of business and get back quick as I can.”

“You do that.” She reached between his legs, grabbed his crotch and squeezed. Pleasure rippled through him. “Sure you don’t want a toke?”

“What the hell.” He took the joint, sucked in deep. It had been years, but he still knew how. He took a second toke as she lowered herself to her knees and pulled down his zipper and a third as she took him into her mouth. He held the joint in one hand, with the other on her head for balance. He sucked in deep, held his breath and let go, shaking on quivering legs as she swallowed.

“That’s a reminder, so you come back quick.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The look in her eyes told of a thousand more delights.

“I’ll be as quick as I can.” He zipped up, glad he’d insisted on taking his car and not the Jap’s. And doubly glad he’d made the asshole wait outside while he came inside to swap keys. The fucker didn’t want to come by Sadie’s. He wanted to go straight to the Shore and get the faggot, but Horace had put his foot down. He’d wanted his van. It was souped up and built for speed. Besides, you had to show his kind who was boss or you never got any respect.

“I parked your van ’round back. You can drive mine around and park next to it.” Sadie was still on her knees, hadn’t bothered to get up.

“Thanks, Sadie,” Horace said, then he was out the door.

Maggie came over the fence after Gay to the sound of automatic gunfire drowning out the yapping dogs four yards back. Whoever lived in this house-the corner house and the last yard the women had to cross-was playing some kind of war movie through a mega sound system with the volume cranked up loud.

Gay put her mouth to Maggie’s ear. “Only one more fence.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” Maggie sprinted across the yard, attacked the side fence, pulled herself over it as if she’d been doing it all her life.

A wet wind blew her hair as she hit the grass. It was going to rain again. She sighed when she saw Jonas’ red Volkswagen parked across the street where they’d left it.

Gay came over, squatted on the ground next to her, huffing like she was out of breath.

“You okay?” Maggie was breathing hard herself, but the adrenaline sparking through her made her high. Even her arm didn’t hurt any more.

“Yeah.” The rain came down, sheeting cold. “We’re safe now.”

“No we’re not. Nighthyde and that Scarface character are on their way to Jonas’. They’re going to kill the girls, Jonas and Gordon, too. Then Scarface is gonna shoot Nighthyde in the head and make it look like suicide.”

“How do you know this?” Gay sounded stunned.

“It’s what they were talking about when they didn’t think I understood them.” Maggie shivered.

“You speak Japanese?”

“Yeah.” Maggie wiped water from her eyes.

“Let’s go!” Gay got up and started for the car, went to the passenger side.

Maggie fished the key out of her pocket, had it in the driver’s door when a Sheriff’s cruiser came around the corner, tires hissing. It stopped as Maggie was getting in the car. A window came down.

“What are you ladies doing out in the rain?” The deputy was young, maybe twenty-two or three.

“Going for pizza,” Maggie said.

“In this?” The deputy pointed to the sky.

“Kids don’t care about the rain,” Maggie said. “Not when they can send the moms out for the pepperoni and Pepsi.”

“Where are these kids?” the cop said.

“There.” Maggie pointed to the corner house, the one they’d just walked away from. “You can go annoy my husband if you want,” she said. “My kids would love that, but we’re getting wet, so we’re outta here.” Maggie started to get in the car.

“You know about the trouble up the street?”

“Mister,” Maggie said, “the only reason I’m talking to you is because I thought the neighbors called because the kids got the TV up in the stratosphere. If you have other business, I’d appreciate it if you’d go about it and let us be on our way.”

“Kinda late for kids to be eating pizza,” the deputy said.

“And they’re gonna get it a lot later if you don’t stop hassling us.”

The cop looked to the house. Saw the flickering light from the television. He couldn’t help but hear the sounds of movie gunfire. It sounded like a war was going on over there. “Okay, sorry to have bothered you.” He rolled up his window and drove away, turning left onto Daneland, Nighthyde’s street.

“That was close,” Gay said.

“Yeah.” Maggie pulled away from the curb.

“Uh oh,” Gay said. The Sheriff’s car turned its lights on, pulled into a driveway, backed out again. “Guy with that German Shepherd must have seen us, told the cops about the two woman in his backyard.”

“Could they have got it over their radio that quick?”

“Only takes a second once they know,” Gay said.

Maggie jerked the wheel to the right and the VW climbed up the curb.

“What are you doing?”

“No way can this thing out run that cop car.” Maggie felt the bump as the rear tires thumped over.

“So, we should pull over and tell them what’s going on.”

“Like they’re gonna believe us.” Maggie shifted into second, pushed the accelerator to the floor. The rear wheels spun on the park’s wet grass, the car slipped to the left, Maggie, in her element now, turned into the slide as the wheels found traction and the little red car scooted forward as the police cruiser turned on its siren.