John Locke - Lethal Experiment

Like when we were at our best.

That night I left the Norton Community Center building and walked to a nearby diner for a cup of coffee. Then I caught a cab to my hotel and spent an hour sipping whiskey in the hotel bar, watching people come and go.

No Tara.

I paid my bill and loitered in the lobby a few minutes, and caught the elevator to the sixth floor. I stood in front of the door to my room, slipped in the key, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open and ducking to the side.

No gunshots fired by Tara.

I entered the room, checked the phone for messages, checked the room for booby traps, and finally undressed, turned out the lights and climbed into bed.

An hour later I awoke to the sound of a gun being cocked four inches from my face.

Tara said, “100 billion people have died since the dawn of the human race.”

Morbid as it sounds, Tara and I always started our conversations by quoting trivia death facts to each other.

I said, “In Madagascar, families dig up the bones of dead relatives and parade them around the village, along with the shroud their loved ones were buried in. Then they bury the bones with a new shroud.”

“What do they do with the original shroud?” she asked.

“They give it to a young, childless couple.”

“Why?”

“They drape the shroud on their bed and have sex on it every night.”

“Eew.”

“Eew indeed.”

“How’ve you been, Donovan?”

“Good, actually. Mind if I sit up?”

“Actually, I do mind. As you can imagine, I don’t trust you. I think the safest thing would be for me to kill you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you tried.”

“That’s rather unfair, don’t you think?”

“I’m carrying a scar, says I’m right.”

During the time we were together, I’d always suspected that as long as she could kill other people, Tara Siegel wouldn’t have to kill herself. But I was wrong. One night after sharing a bottle of Cakebread with her I awoke to a gurgling sound. I flipped on the light and was horrified to find Tara lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

“Goodbye, Donovan,” she whispered.

I called 911 while rushing to her side. As I flipped her body toward me, she lashed out at my face with her weapon of choice, a 10-inch AGA Camploin Catalana switchblade, causing the scar I’ve worn ever since. Tara has always maintained she wasn’t trying to kill me, just trying to prevent me from saving her life. Either way, it was the defining moment in our relationship, and the one that brought it to an end.

“If I wanted to kill you I would have done it that night,” I said.

“Maybe you came to your decision recently.”

“Actually, I came to ask you a favor.”

“Sorry, Donovan. It’s your own fault. You’re too fucking dangerous.”

I shouted, “Now, Curly!”

Tara was about to laugh at my feeble attempt to distract her, but Curly’s Taser found her thigh before she could get it started. I burst upward from under the covers and pushed Tara backward. Though virtually incapacitated, she managed to squeeze off a shot, and her .45 caliber hollow point cut a hole in the ceiling.

I made a mental note to check if anyone had been sleeping in the bed in the room above me.

The Taser worked its magic, and Tara was unable to maintain her grip on the gun. I climbed out of bed, grabbed her gun, and placed it on the end table. I turned on the light. Curly and I watched her writhe helplessly on the bed a few seconds. I wrapped my belt around her neck and spun her face down and placed my knee in the small of her back.

“Good job, Curly,” I said. “Can you hand me a zip tie?”

He tossed me one of the plastic twist-tie handcuffs with his free hand, and I secured Tara’s wrists behind her. Only then did he remove the Taser barb.

Tara had used a silencer, so we didn’t have to worry about the gunshot waking anyone up. Curly and I got her onto a chair and hooked her arms over the back of it. He fastened her ankles to the chair legs with zip ties while I kept my belt tight around her neck. Then Curly cut the ties around her wrists and re-zipped each of them to the arms of the chair. Then he walked over to the door that connected the adjoining room and opened it. I released the belt and came around to face her.

“Where’d you get the midget?” she said.

“Little person,” I said.

“How long has he been hiding under the bed?”

I looked at Curly. “What, six hours?”

“Give or take,” he said.

To Tara I said, “Who tipped you off I was in town, the lecturer?”

“Doesn’t matter. You going to kill me, or what?”

“I told you. I just want to ask a favor. You look great, by the way.”

“Uh huh. What’s the favor?”

“Have you ever seen your body double?”

“The little gymnast from Atlanta? Eva something?”

“Right.”

“Yeah, I checked her out one time.”

“You think she looks like you?”

“She doesn’t look anything like me. You know how it works. She’s close enough. What’s this got to do with you being here? What’s the favor?”

“I want you to tell Darwin you want a different body double.”

She looked at me a moment before speaking, and something cagey showed in her eyes.

“And if I don’t?” she said.

“You will.”

She laughed. “Why’s that?”

“Because she’s become a talented trapeze artist. She’s about to get her big break in life, and it’s such a small thing to ask of you, and by doing it you and I will be allowing one perfect thing to survive out of all this madness in our lives.”

“Uh huh. So how long have you been fucking her?”

“Hand to God,” I said. “I’ve never even met her.”

“He’s doing it for me,” Callie said, coming in from the adjoining room.

Curly saw her and said, “Jesus, take me now!”

“Ah,” said Tara. “The pretty killer.”

“How are you, Tara?” Callie said.

“I’ve been better. You?”

Callie said, “That sort of depends on you.”

Tara nodded slowly, working it out in her head. “I see. So you’re the one fucking Eva. But more than that, you’re in love with her. How sad.”

Tara didn’t sound sad, but she’d said it, and that was something. Tara sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll tell Darwin.”

“You will?”

“Sure. Why not.”

I turned toward Callie, to see what she thought, but all I saw was the gun in her hand, pointed at Tara’s face. She pumped two rounds into the space between Tara’s eyes, and perhaps a third one into my heart because I felt a stabbing pain. I grabbed my chest and fell to the floor. Callie raced to my side.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Is it your heart?”

Just before losing consciousness I heard Curly ask Callie, “You ever thought about doing it with a guy? ‘Cause if you have, I’m available.”

Chapter 39

Icame to after hearing my voice say, “I’m okay, it’s all psychosomatic.”

I opened my eyes, looking for Callie, but received the shock of my life when the person who came into view was a total stranger in a nurse’s outfit.

“Oh, my God!” she screamed, and pressed the button hanging on the side rail of the hospital bed I was laying in.

Hospital bed?

The nurse raced out of the room, leaving me to wonder what the hell was going on. I tried to figure out what happened. I remembered Callie shooting Tara, and then the pain came. I know why Callie shot her. Tara wasn’t the type to let things go. If we turned her loose she might track Eva down and kill her out of spite. At the very least she’d tell Darwin, and he’d have Eva killed. So Callie’s actions made sense.