Tim Marquitz: Armageddon Bound

I fought back the urge to vomit and stumbled around the back of the van. Meinie sat in the street shaking his head to clear it while Eenie circled around the hood of the van to approach me from the driver’s side. Meanwhile, Meenie timed his advance so he and Eenie could come at me from both sides at the same time. Unarmed and wounded, things didn’t look good for me. I looked down the deserted business street, but there was no way I could make it around the corner before they were on me.

The two longhairs closed in as my mind scrambled to think of a way out. I stared straight at the van’s double doors as I watched the two in my peripheral vision. Just then, an idea sprang to mind. As they reached the back of the van, I leaned forward and grabbed the latch of the back door. Fortunately for me, it was unlocked. I popped it open and swung it to my left with all my might. The door slammed into Eenie with a resounding thud. He crumpled. One down. I spun to face Meenie, but he was faster. I heard the whistle of the short sword right before it struck me. I bit back my scream as the blade cut a quarter-inch deep groove down the length of my spine. I was lucky. Had Meenie been an experienced swordsman instead of just some Dungeons and Dragons wannabe, I’d have been dead.

Not interested in giving him another chance to get it right, I spun on him. I locked up his sword arm and used my weight to swing him around and slam him into the closed back door of the van. In tight, I managed to get one of my hands on his neck, my fingers locking around his throat. I kicked his feet out from underneath him and rode his skull into the bumper, putting all two hundred fifty pounds of my weight into it. It hit with a sickening thump. I saw his eyes roll back in his head as his body went limp.

Before I had a chance to grab the sword, Meinie charged at me. I stepped out of the way and matadored him past me, using his own momentum against him. He tumbled into a roll and got to his feet. I chose the better part of valor as I heard Eenie moaning behind me as he crept to his feet. I bolted around the open back door, past the slow-rising Eenie, and ran to the front of the van. Meinie realized what I intended and let out a string of creative curses as he raced after me. Not waiting for him to catch up, I slipped into the driver’s seat and let out a hysterical laugh when I found the keys still in the ignition. I turned it over and the van roared to life. I popped it into gear and stomped the gas. The wheels dug in with a squeal and the van shot down the road. It just wasn’t quick enough for a clean getaway.

Meinie caught the edge of the sliding door and managed to get his feet onto the small step below it, coming along for the ride. I could see his deranged grin in the passenger side mirror, his feral eyes locked on the reflection of mine.

I swerved the van back and forth, making him focus on hanging on rather than climbing inside. I kept my foot on the gas and hurtled down the street getting as far away from the other two as I could. Once I felt confident they couldn’t catch up, I swung the van around a corner as sharply as I dared. The wheels screeched in complaint and the van shuddered, but I’d accomplished what I wanted. The side door slid shut, catching Meinie’s hands in between it and the frame. He shrieked in agony as the door locked with a metallic click, crushing his fingers. His feet slipped from the step and bounced along the asphalt as I dragged him along. After a few spiteful seconds, I slowed the van and turned into an alley. I rode alongside a dumpster and turned the van into it, pressing Meinie into its metal side, wedging him between it and the van. I could hear his ribs snap inside his chest. He gurgled in complaint, Page 41 nearly unconscious. That’s when I stopped. Ignoring my own pain, my wounds still burning, I climbed out and walked around to have a chat with Meinie, his head angled toward the front of the van. I lifted his chin so we could see eye to eye. “Who sent you?”

His eyes rolled around in their sockets, not quite coherent. I growled and asked him again, digging my fingers into the soft spots under his chin. His eyes came into focus, but just barely. I could see him debating whether or not to tell me. Self-preservation won out.

“Veronica. It was Veronica,” he gasped, his voice giving out at the end.

Her name hit me like a gunshot to the gut. I stumbled back, the urge to vomit rearing up once again. I steadied myself against the hood. “Are you serious?”

He nodded as best he could.

I hadn’t expected that. I figured Baalth had set me up with his taking my gun and all. I would never have suspected Veronica, seeing how I hadn’t heard from her in twenty years. I know we’d split on some pretty acrimonious terms, but I certainly didn’t think she’d try to kill me. I guess you never truly know a person until they come gunning for you. This was really turning out to be a shitty day. Numb, I turned to leave.

“Wait,” Meinie choked. “You can’t leave me here.”

I didn’t even turn to look at him. “You made your bed…now wallow in the wet spot.” I stormed out of the alley, my thoughts whirling a million miles a minute. Around the corner, I looked to make sure Eenie and Meenie hadn’t found me before hurrying as fast as I could toward downtown. I made it there in decent time, despite my oozing, aching wounds. At the car, I dug my keys from my pocket and unlocked the door. I slipped, inside stifling a moan. Motivated by adrenaline and a good dose of pain, I started it up right away and rolled out of the lot, heading for home. I had a lot of thinking to do.

I drove the long way home, making random turns here and there to throw off any tails I might have picked up. However paranoid that may sound, it’s a habit, which has kept grief from my doorstep so many times in the past I’ve lost count. It was often enough to make the extra gas spent worth it. Once I felt comfortable, I aimed the car toward the east side of town, and home. Stiff and sore from the long drive, my wounds screaming the entire way, I pulled onto my block at last. I hit the automatic garage door opener and pulled inside. Out of the car, I went to the inner door and felt the familiar tingle of the scanning mechanism as it washed over me. Identification complete, I stepped into my kitchen. Home sweet home.

My first stop was the fridge. I pulled it open and snatched a cold beer. I twisted off the top and took a deep swig as I went into the living room, moaning in satisfaction at the first swallow. I’d needed a drink.

“Rough day?”

I shrieked like a little girl when I heard the willowy soft voice, but if anyone asks, I’ll lie about it. I fumbled my beer and it fell to the floor, splashing out onto the carpet like a foamy volcano. I ignored it as it certainly wasn’t the first to end up there, and looked to see who’d spoken. Rachelle Knight sat on the couch.

“Jesus, woman! You can call, you know? What’s the point of having telepaths if you’re gonna pop in uninvited?”

“I wanted to speak to you in person,” she replied. After a moment’s hesitation, her wide hazel eyes appraising me, she commented, “You look horrible.”

“Thanks. You too.” That wasn’t actually true. She looked pretty good even though I prefer women with a little more meat on their bones, not to mention a few decades younger. Though not my usual type, Rachelle carried all the grace of a super-model minus the revealing clothes, much to my regret. With no visible flesh of any perverse value to focus on, I dropped into my old recliner and stared at the spreading puddle on my carpet. This day just kept getting worse. Spilled beer and zero cleavage. Was there no mercy? As always, Rachelle seemed a bit lost, vapid. I used to believe it was a side effect of her connection to the supernatural world. Recently, however, I’d come to believe she’d just been a little too experimental back in the sixties. I could picture her at Woodstock, flowers painted on her face, offering the goods up to Jimi Hendrix, looking for an experience.