Michael Langlois - Bad Radio

I put on my best movie villain leer. “Well, we did pay for this bed.”

She laughed. “Eat your apple, old man. We need to be ready in case there’s trouble. I’m sure they know we’re here.”

“I hope so, I did everything except sit in that bag’s lap at the diner. Contact with the enemy will get us leads. Provided we survive it, of course.”

“Of course.”

At around midnight we were flipping channels between infomercials for miracle cleaners and all night fire-and-brimstone sermons when headlights swept past the window, rolling tall shadows briefly across the walls. I killed the TV. Footsteps crunched towards our room.

“Bag?” I whispered.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I’m still trying to get used to the stink here.”

Two loud knuckle raps on the door announced our visitor. I stood up to answer it. “Not a bag.”

“How do you know?”

“They don’t knock.” I opened the door. “Yes?”

Paperback Guy stood in the doorway. “Hi, I need to talk to you. Can I come in? It’s important.” I could see the bulge of a gun under the black hoodie that he wore.

“Sure, come on in.”

As he walked past me I grabbed his arm and swept his feet out from under him. As his feet left the ground, I kept my hold on his arm and pushed him backwards and down with my other hand. Air percussed from his lungs in a long cough as his back slapped forcefully against the thin carpet.

Anne swept neatly past us and closed the door. I removed his gun, a black 9mm Taurus, and tossed it to Anne. She stepped out of reach and pointed it at our guest, who was now trying to raise his hands as well as gasp for breath. His eyes flicked back and forth between me, standing over him with my arms crossed, to Anne’s unsmiling face, to the barrel of his own gun.

“Wait,” he wheezed. “I’m trying to help you.”

“By spying on us in the diner, following us to our hotel, and trying to gain access to our room in the middle of the night with a gun? That doesn’t sound very helpful.”

“Listen to me. If you don’t want to be a missing persons statistic, then you need to move on, right now. Can I get up?”

“Sure. Slowly.”

He heaved himself to his feet. I noticed that he had tattoos on his arms and just peeking out of the neck of his shirt. “You really need to leave. Bad things happen to people who visit Belmont, and that goes double for anyone who stays at this rat-trap hotel. So I risk my ass when fresh meat comes to town, without any thanks by the way, trying to get dumbasses like you clear of trouble. That’s what I do. Can I have my gun back?”

Anne clicked off the safety. “Sure, come get it.”

“Whatever. I did my boy scout routine and now you’re warned. If you get snatched, it’s your own fault.” He turned towards the door.

“Wait. Anne, let’s be friendly.”

He stopped and faced me, arms crossed.

“Okay, but the gun’s mine.” She flicked on the safety and tucked the gun away behind her in her waistband.

“We appreciate the warning, really. Tell me about the kidnappings.”

“It’s complicated, and you wouldn’t get it even if I tried to explain. Let’s just say that some bad people are running this town, and you want to get out before they come for you. Get it?”

“So what do you get out of your lone hero act? Won’t the bad guys kind of frown on that and grab you, too?”

“Oh, they try, but we’re too smart for ‘em. Me and some other people are sticking around, trying to get the folks that we can still save out of town, and keeping new ones from coming in. So take my advice and keep moving.”

“Maybe we want to stay and help.”

“Yeah, right. Just move over to another town, and keep vacationing or whatever. You have no idea what we’re up against.”

“You mean wormy guys that are jumpy and stabby and eat bullets like candy?”

Our visitor froze as thoughts chased themselves plainly across his face. “Shit!” He sprang for the door. He was closer, but I was faster. I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back. He drove one of his elbows into my ribs with surprising strength. It was painful, but also a mistake. It let me hook my arm through his and pin it behind his back. I put my other hand behind his neck and powered him back to the ground, this time face first. He managed to turn his head at the last second and took the impact on his chest and cheek.

He stopped struggling when he realized that no matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t budge me. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Go ahead and take me away, that won’t stop us. It won’t make any difference!” He started struggling again.

“Will you stop? We’re on your side. We tracked Piotr here and we’re going to shut his operation down. It’s my turn to say we’re here to help.”

He went still. “I don’t know who that is, but if you’re on our side, then let me up.”

“I’ll let you up if you promise not to run for it again. Because if I can’t stop you before you reach the door, then the pretty girl over there with the gun is going to do it for me. Understand?” He nodded, so I let go and stood back.

When he stood up, he looked pissed. He also had a rug burn on one cheek and a split lip. “So what’s your deal?”

“Same as you, trying to put an end to all this. I have some history with Piotr, the guy who’s running things. My name’s Abe, and this is Anne.”

“I’m Chuck. Tell me what you know.”

“You said you were part of a group. Why don’t you take us to meet whoever is in charge, and then everybody can swap stories.”

“I’m in charge, so just tell me what you know, and I’ll let everyone else know what they need to know.”

I smiled my most reassuring smile. “No offense, Chuck, but I’m going to want to meet your friends, if they exist. I phrased it as a request to be polite, I wasn’t really asking. I know Piotr uses regular folks from time to time, so as much as I like your sunny personality, you’re not getting out of my sight. If you really are part of some guerilla group, then great. If not …”

Chuck’s eyes rolled to the side and he sighed. “Fine. We’re going to have to drive around for a while to make sure nobody is tailing us, so just follow me, but not too close.”

“Anne will follow, and I’ll ride with you. If anything goes wrong, I promise that’ll it’ll go wrong for you before it goes wrong for me, understand?”

“Yes, I get it already. Let’s just get going.”

Chuck was in a cheap, beat-up sedan. It was a dull green and looked like something you’d buy from a rental car auction. I watched out the windows, trying to get a feel for the town while Chuck drove in sullen silence, for which I was grateful. Anne trailed us by a good block or so, blending into the nearly non-existent traffic as best she could.

After half an hour of circling, we entered a lower middle-class subdivision called Liberty Estates. Cheap but well-tended houses stood shoulder-to-shoulder down narrow roads, with alleys running behind the houses to give access to the rear-facing garages. Every house had a tiny flower bed out front and a tin mailbox on a post in the yard. The same three or four house designs repeated endlessly down the streets.

Chuck stopped on the curb in front of the only house on this particular street with the lights still on and killed the engine. Anne pulled up behind him and did the same.

“Okay,” he said, “let me go in first and introduce you. They’ll trust you more if you don’t go manhandling me in front of them, alright? Just lay off me.”

“Sure thing. I promise to try not to embarrass you in front of anybody.”