Ken Douglas - Death Glitch

He reached for his phone, touched the button to wake it from sleep, but it didn’t leave it’s slumber. He pushed it again, got no joy. He pushed the reset. Nothing. Like the radio, it was dead. That too made no sense, as he’d been using a car charger. The battery should have been full.

Nothing for it now, but to go back down the mountain till he could find a landline. That’d take about a half hour, maybe a bit longer in these conditions. Maybe he could stop at one of the homes that didn’t have a locked gate in front of its drive. Yeah, that made sense.

He was about to turn around when someone rapped on his window. Startled he went for his weapon when the passenger window exploded with the sound of gunfire, raining him with safety glass.

“ Don’t!” a man in black shouted as he poked a mean looking riot gun through the space where his window once was. “I blew your window out with my handgun. I just as easily could’ve used this and taken your head off.”

Mouledoux pulled his hand away from the shoulder holster.

“ Hands on the wheel!”

Mouledoux did as he was told.

“ Okay, mind and you live. Nod your head if you understand.”

Mouledoux nodded.

“ That’s good. With your left hand, open the door, keeping your right on the wheel.”

Mouledoux opened the door.

And two beefy hands grabbed him by the collar, jerked him out of the car. A giant of a man threw him onto the road, which wasn’t nearly as warm as he’d imagined it to be when he was avoiding all those animals. The giant pulled his hands behind his back and in a flash of a second he’d been handcuffed with cold metal cuffs, the old fashioned kind that unlocked with a key.

The other man was on him now, a knee in his back as he reached into Mouledoux’s jacket and pulled out his weapon, then he frisked him the way only a professional can. The man found and took his shield and creds.

“ He’s a police officer.” He got off Mouledoux’s back.

“ He the one Mr. Wayne is expecting?”

“ How about it mister, is Mr. Wayne expecting you?” the one who’d shot out his window said.

“ Yeah.” Mouledoux figured the less he spoke to these men, the better off he’d be.

The giant pulled him to his feet.

“ Can’t be too careful,” the man who’d shot out his window said. “Weird shit’s been going on.”

“ Like what?” Mouledoux said. Then, “And can you take the cuffs off?”

“ Yeah sure. I’m Weed, they call me Weedy.” He unlocked the cuffs.

“ And him?” Mouledoux nodded to the giant, who stood seven feet, six if he stood an inch. He had lightning bolts tattooed on both sides of his neck, which set off his monster of a chin, but the massive square jaw and the tattoos were understatements, compared to the flattened nose that dominated the middle of the giant’s florid face. And, of course, he was hairless.

“ That’s Lugar.”

“ What do you feed him?”

“ Ha,” Lugar said, “good one.” Then, “Don’t let my looks fool you. I’m plenty smart. I’m also a mean son of a bitch and I don’t feel pain. Born that way. I can be your best friend or one motherfucking horrible nightmare. Better for you if we’re friends.”

“ Got it,” Mouledoux said. “Meanwhile, we’re standing out in the snow.”

“ Yeah,” Weedy said, “let’s get inside.”

“ You wanna give me back my piece?”

“ Not just yet,” Weedy said.

“ So, we’re not really pals yet, are we?” Mouledoux said.

“ Not yet.”

Mouledoux decided to end the conversation and walked with them, Weedy in front, Lugar behind, to the gated drive. The gate wasn’t like the decorative gates guarding the estates he’d seen as he was coming up the mountain. This one was made of sturdy chain link and had razor wire on the top of it, as did the twelve foot fence that surrounded the property. The place looked more like a prison.

“ Fence is electric.” Weedy pulled a remote from his coat pocket, pushed a button and the gate slid open. Mouledoux half expected a gatehouse and a guard but there were none. There were, however, cameras mounted on both sides of the gate.

“ Pretty thorough,” Mouledoux said.

“ But not tonight,” Weedy said. “Cameras are on the fritz. Phones, both landline and cellular, are out. Cable too, so no internet or TV. But what’s really weird is the radios don’t work, either.”

“ But you got electricity?”

“ Yeah,” Weedy said. “Lights, the fence, this, he held up the remote, they all work. But communications, video and audio, between us and the outside, are all out.”

“ That’s impossible,” Mouledoux said, remembering the radio in his car and his phone.

“ Yeah, impossible,” Lugar said.

“ You check the radios in your cars?”

“ All on the fritz,” Weedy said. “So, you can see why we’re just a little nervous about who comes calling tonight. Why we might want to shoot first and ask questions later.”

Mouledoux thought about telling them about his radio and phone, but didn’t. It was his job to ask questions and get information, not to give it.

“ Bobby!” Peeps shouted out from the front porch as they approached the house. Next to his partner were two men, Mansfield and Tucker Wayne. They looked every bit in the flesh liked they did live at 11:00 and in the Reno Gazette.

“ Mr. Mouledoux.” Mansfield Wayne stepped forward, hand outstretched. Mouledoux took it as Wayne said, “Come this way.” Mansfield led him along a covered porch that wrapped around his mansion to the back. “I like my privacy, Mr. Mouledoux, but I like to sit outside as well and I don’t like to look at that awful fence.” He sounded like he did on television, authoritative, in command, in control.

“ Wow!” Mouledoux said when he saw the view. The backyard was football field large and it bordered on a cliff. Off in the distance and far below he could see the lights of Reno. Rich people definitely lived better.

“ You should see it on a clear night,” Wayne said. “The lights below, dark here, more stars above than you can possibly imagine. It’s breathtaking. I thank God I’m alive to enjoy it.”

“ I can understand that,” Mouledoux said.

“ And we want to keep him alive,” Tucker Wayne said, “because he does so much good for his community and he’s got so much more to give. Can you understand that as well, Mr. Mouledoux?”

“ Sure.” Mouledoux couldn’t help but notice that Peeps, Weedy and Lugar hadn’t followed them to the back of the house, weren’t enjoying the view with the three of them. He was alone with the Waynes. He could take them, of that he was sure, but he wasn’t armed, so taking them down now would only get him killed, because he’d never get past Weedy and Lugar, not to mention Peeps and whoever else Wayne had guarding his little mountain fortress.

“ Peeps assures us you are onboard,” Tucker said. “Is that true?”

“ Depends.” Mouledoux hated that he had to play like he was on the take, but there was no other way now.

“ You will be paid handsomely, Mr. Mouledoux.” Tucker said,

“ Call me, Bobby,” Mouledoux said.

“ That fast,” Tucker said, “you’re not going to ask how much?”

“ Bobby’s a smart man,” Mansfield said. “He knows we’re fair.”

“ So, why do you need me?” Mouledoux said.

“ Two reasons, Bobby,” Mansfield said. “One, outside of you, me, Peeps and Lila Booth, nobody else alive knows about Dr. Isadora Eisenhower. And two, Peeps says you’re awfully good with a gun and before this night is through, there’s a better than even chance we might need your services.”

“ It looks like you’ve got the bodyguard business pretty much squared away.”