Hard Case VI: The Killer Inside (John Harding Book 6) (6 page)

“You can stop gushing about his name, Cheese.” Lora porked me with my less cool nickname. “He’s beaten every one of his opponents by brutal knockout or the referee stopping the fight to prevent a killing.”

“We’ve been through all this before. I’m in the heavyweight division of UFC. My opponents are going to be big. I’m big. Maybe he’s at home with his significant other, and she’s ragging him about how brutal I am. Has the Viking killed anyone in the octagon?”

“No… but-”

“No but nothing,” I replied with logic. “It’s not a fight to the death. We’ll be fighting in front of thousands at the Mandalay Bay, and millions on TV. We could enjoy all this together instead of making the match into a journey to the Afghan mountains. I’ve been to the Afghan mountains. A fight at the Mandalay Bay arena is absolutely not the Afghan mountains.”

That shut them up. I pulled the Recon Marine Vet card on them. Heh… heh. After the airing of our grievances, the chill in the air went away for a time. Al did a blow by blow description for me of her soccer goals scored earlier in the day. Lora chimed in with the boys really played rough. Al pointed out when she couldn’t play with the boys anymore because of size, she’d have to switch to an all-girls league. At least we weren’t talking about Vikings.

We made the Ferry with a few minutes to spare, because of parking. It was crowded in spite of the cool evening. The Giants weren’t playing, so the baseball fans usually packing the Ferry for AT&T Park weren’t traveling to the game by Ferry tonight. It’s fun though when the Ferry has a good crowd on board. Al and Lora wanted to stay below deck by the fantail because the wind on the upper deck would cut right through regular outer clothing. We watched the sights as we moved away from the pier. Steaming next to the port where the huge container ships docked was an awe inspiring sight. I didn’t notice over the engine and wind noise at first, but Al started yanking on my arm.

“Hey, Dark Lord, there’s a guy at the back of the boat fighting with a woman.” Al pointed at the rearmost section of the fantail across from us, where a middle thirties guy sporting a wild looking beard argued heatedly with a young woman who looked to be barely in her twenties.

“Sometimes, men and women don’t get along, Al. I try not to presume to know another couple’s relationship. Your Mom and I have it out now and then too. Maybe she’s his daughter, and she’s calling him disrespectful nicknames.”

Al giggled, but Lora had taken an interest in the couple too, along with others nearer the action. They were really going at it by then, complete with waving hands, and invective best used in a private sound proofed room.

“I think Al may be right, John. Those two sound ready to start beating on each other.”

They did, but I couldn’t think of anything I could do about it. Even the cops hate intervening between warring couples. Usually the participants stop screaming at each other, and turn on the intervening party, be it cops, neighbors, or friends – especially strangers. I couldn’t make out much of the wording other than the profanity, so I was clueless as to what they were arguing about. Admittedly, I didn’t give the situation much thought. Being on the Ferry with Monday’s Bay shark training sessions starting gave me enough to consider, such as the possibility zombies had broken into my house and ate my brain. I doubted though that the Ferry service had security guards. They probably figured it was enough to have a visible crew presence. I listened more closely, but we were on the other side of the boat. Then the unthinkable happened.

The young woman began slapping the bearded guy. He looked around while covering his head with hands and arms. Not being able to get through his defenses as the Beard backed against the railing, she tried launching some knees for his man parts. The Beard saw that coming and twisted so the woman banged her knee into the railing. She backed off feeling the pain, while the Beard began making placating gestures. His young lady friend stopped rubbing her damaged knee, shouted ‘you bastard!’ and ran at him, claws out. The Beard’s eyes widened, and he hit the deck. Unfortunately for his companion her momentum caused her to flip right over the railing with a scream. The Beard looked up, and found out he was alone. He started yelling ‘Sue!’ repeating her name in a mantra as he danced helplessly at the railing.

“Dad!” Al screamed out, jerking on my arm. “Do something!”

Like what I was wondering as I stripped off my nice warm coat - dive in, and get swept under the aft propellers. I met Lora’s worried eyes with my reluctant ones before kicking off my shoes as the boat slowed. I glimpsed a thrashing splash in the darkness. After swinging my legs over the railing, I used my feet to propel me as far away from the boat’s side as I could get. I struck the damn ice cold Bay water with a gasp of human shock as it enveloped me in what felt like a thousand needles of icy torture. Stroking full tilt toward the weakening splash ahead in the now pitch darkness, I hoped to get near her before she lost her battle with buoyancy. Searchlights from the boat were flashing in a light show around us, but I could tell their operators had no idea where we were.

Luckily, I could hear her hyperventilating gasps for air as she flopped every appendage in all directions with survival the only thought lancing through her head. I figured it would keep her somewhat warm, because hypothermia would come quickly in those frigid waters. People think the Bay Area water must be warm because after all it is California. Wrong. Middle fifties to low fifties is as warm as it gets. It’s not polar bear ice floe temperature, but it will cramp a person quickly, especially one panicking for every breath. My head had already started aching from the cold water as I slowed my approach.

“Hey! I’m right here! Calm down and I’ll help you!”

Yeah, that worked well. She squealed, and launched at me like a nautilus missile. I went under, grabbed her feet, and pulled her under. Then I grabbed her hair, and struck out for the Ferry, dragging and straightening her out as I side stroked. She gulped air while I told her to relax. As she calmed to only mild panic, I switched hands, gripping her chin instead of her hair. By then we were nearing the fantail where the crew had put a boat in the water. They took hold of my waterlogged package. The young woman was quickly heaved upwards to the deck as I waited until they maneuvered her to the waiting arms above before pulling myself aboard the smaller boat.

One of the crewmembers, a salty looking middle-aged character with a three day growth of beard peered into my face with a grin. “Hey, sharky, how you doin’. Was that as refreshing as it looked?”

“Yeah… I’m all cooled off now, Salt.”

He chuckled. “Want to climb aboard, or would you rather row alongside?”

“I think if I stay here, my teeth will start chattering so badly I might break a few. Maybe I better climb aboard.”

“Good choice.” He gave me a steadying hand as I righted myself in soaking wet clothing. “Damn… you’re a big one. It was a miracle she didn’t end up in the screw. We couldn’t see shit. We didn’t know what direction to launch the skiff.”

“Say… you wouldn’t have anything to make an Irish coffee with would you?”

“I believe so, my friend.”

On deck, the applause for the frozen Cheeseburger was heartfelt. The Beard hugged me, soaking wet clothing and all. The Salt put a large Irish coffee in my hand after I stripped out of my shirt, and donned the blanket I was given. Lora and Al hovered around me, relieved and happy. I smiled while sucking down that Irish coffee with gusto. Salt came alongside and tilted a flask again into my cup.

“Thanks, brother.”

“It’s the least we can do. Once we land, we can take you back with us.”

“I’ll find a clothing store, and get some new duds. We’ll get some hot clam chowder in a bread bowl as planned. I’m thinking of maybe taking a taxi back to Oakland though.”

Salt and the people within hearing enjoyed my alternate transportation declaration.

“I don’t blame you,” Salt replied, walking off.

“That was scary, Dad.”

“It was cold. I can tell you that much. What’s the name of that clothing place on Pier 39 that sells jeans and everything, Hon?”

“SF City Wear. You’ll need the works, Dark Lord. Just between us, would you have gone in the water if Al and I hadn’t been with you?”

“Sure,” I lied. I don’t know. Sometimes I have a mean streak going, especially when it comes to an application of Darwin’s Law. “Well… at least a firm maybe.”

“We really don’t have to stay,” Lora said after some amusement at my qualification remark. “I bet you’re uncomfortable as hell.”

“The Irish coffee is helping, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I’m okay with saltwater in every pore.”

“Why don’t we buy your clothes, and then go check in at the Peir 2620 Hotel for the night? You can take a quick shower, get changed, and then we’ll have dinner.”

Yes! “That sounds lovely. It sure will feel better after a shower. We’ll get a two room suite, so we can lock Beeper girl in for the night.”

“Not funny. We’re staying in San Francisco. It’s party time for Beeper girl. I feel like some 7D Experience killing zombies.”

“I hate that ride,” Lora said. “Those damn zombie things are scary.”

“You are such a girl, Mom. It’s really fun. I’m going by myself. Every time the Dark Lord goes with me, he sets a new zombie killing record. You’re just mad because they put the pictures of how the people score at the end. You get the last place and the joke picture whenever you ride.”

“Just for that, I’m going in there and kick your Beeper ass,” Lora said. “I’m going to teach you some respect for your old Mom.”

“Game on,” Al said with pumping fist. “What’ll you do while I guide Mom to her usual humiliating last place picture, Dad?”

“I’m going to stay out of trouble. I think I’m on an unfortunate streak of being a bad event magnet. It happens occasionally, and tonight’s dip in the Bay has me thinking I may be in the midst of one now.”

“We’ll take care of you,” Al replied. “Once I embarrass Mom killing zombies, you can go in and set your usual record by yourself while Mom and I go look in that holiday store they have with all the seasonal trinkets.”

“Okay. Maybe I can bleed this swim in the Bay for a ticket off the training voyage on Monday. I’ll let you two tell Tommy what a hero I was, and that he should give me a reward by training inside.”

“We saw the Viking, DL,” Lora said with a negative shake of her head. “You’re training, and that’s final. You need all the prep work you can get. I hope Dev and Jess can find some weakness he has, or your Vegas vacation will be very painful.”

Damn it! I thought I’d get a sympathy vote for a delay in Bay boating on Monday. Instead, I get the Viking lecture. I keep my mouth shut while thinking about ways I could make Tommy aware of my heroic act tonight without saying anything. Maybe I could get Jafar to say he saw a YouTube video and news report outlining my rescue of a damsel in distress. Even that cold hearted prick Tommy would possibly tell me to train inside. As I drain the last dregs of my cup of Irish, I notice the grinning stares from Lora and Al. They’ve decided to pork me. I can tell. That’s just wrong, considering it was their idea for me to dive off a boat on our night out in San Francisco.

“Get your mind in the game, DL. You’re going into the Bay on Monday.”

“I find your lack of sympathy disturbing to say the least. If T sees a newspaper report of my selfless act, I bet he’d insist on me taking Monday off.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Now, you’re just being mean.”

Chapter Three

Man Down

The shower was amazing after sitting and walking in my salt encrusted garments while shopping for my new jeans, pullover shirt, undergarments, and tennis shoes. Luckily for me, I had all my ID’s and money in the leather jacket I shed on the way to the railing. After dressing, my female companions awaited me with hunger pangs of epic proportions, and complaining to match. First, I had to listen to their insights on my rescuer image, slightly tarnished as I left the Ferry boat.

“You should have Gronked that ungrateful-”

“Language,” I cautioned Al as she used her special description of my less civilized physical response to unruly people. “Forget it, Al. If I want a pat on the back, I’ll take a couple of Advil and do it myself. She was right. I did yank the lady under the surface for a moment, and then dragged her along by her hair until she calmed down. Besides, the Beard guided his less than thankful companion away from us. Let’s eat.”

“I don’t think rearranging her face would have helped in any way, but it would have been a satisfying response,” Lora said. “It reinforces the ‘No good deed goes unpunished’ cliché.”

“After my unexpected swim, I’d like a drink. Let’s go to Scoma’s. I like it there as long as we don’t order anything exotic.”

“The short walk there would be neat too,” Lora agreed. “I hope we don’t have any other surprises ahead of us. I’ve had enough excitement for one night watching you go over the side of a boat into the pitch dark ocean.”

My iPhone rang as we walked out the door. It was Denny, nicknamed the Spawn of Satan, for many reasons, including his timing. “We’re on our way to dinner, Spawn.”

“I had you on GPS. I’m heading across the bridge now with Lieutenant Commander Tom Wilders. Can we meet with you for a few minutes?"

Tom led a Seal Team charged with backing our mission play at times on the high seas. We had a rough first meeting when Lieutenant Commander Tom found out we were the Monsters responsible for all the dead bodies. Since then, we’ve come to an understanding. Tom knew he and his Seal Team had their jobs, and my Monster Squad had ours. “Sure, Denny. We’re on our way to Scoma’s. Do you have one of the guys driving you?”