Kobe (22 page)

              "Look, the chances of us gettin' close enough to tag this nigga is 'bout one in a muthafuckin' million," Roc says, "if that's bein' a pussy then get me some cover from Victoria's Secret, cause I ain't gettin' locked up for
almost
shootin' a nigga. They gonna send us to bookins for holdin' heat. Too much bacon in the pan, ya heard?"

              "Come on Roc, we're outta here," Billy and Roc jump down into the creek bed careful not to get their Jordans wet. They follow the creek back to Bayside Commons.

              Jaybird shakes his head, "are you still down, Quinn?"

              "He killed my mom, Jay," Quinn says with a quivering lip. He grips the pistol tightly with his palm. "I don't care about going to jail, or prison, or getting shot anymore. I just want him dead."

              "Good, that's what makes you a man. It ain't about winning every fight, or throwing your fists up against every bully. It's about having heart when it counts."

* * * * *

              Zed stirs a pot of BBQ sauce, specifically for Travis. The Boesh family's strong. With Curt out of the picture, there'll be no holding them back. Travis is a nice fella, but according to Judd he's a talker. If one whiff of Travis' bullshit gets to Columbus, all of Kobe will be a target, if it isn't already.

              Zed scoops a fresh helping of moist Grinder meat on two hoagie buns. He pours a bit more Azalea honey into the sauce to give it a deadly, sweet, flavor, the same sweet Azalea honey that put his baby brother to sleep.

Chapter XXVII

Styrofoam Plates

As told by Quinn

              I was six when my Dad went away. Skaggs was still Rupert back then, named after the dead Grandpa we never met, by a cowardice father that was too weak to raise us.

              We weren't always poor. We had a decent life, in a decent house. It all changed when the tire factory burned down. There were too many workers that depended on that job to be compensated correctly.

              The old man couldn't find employment to save his soul, so he drank to feel better. By Thanksgiving he was a full blown alcoholic. The same man that threw me up in the air, and taught me how to swim, became a shell of a human being with callus behavior.

              I remember Mom cooked a huge Thanksgiving dinner that year, courtesy of Uncle Sam's food stamps. We had turkey, stuffing with sausage and cranberries, sweet potato casserole, the works.

              During dinner Dad was halfway sober, just drinking wine, and he was fun to be around. Mom told him to slow down, but he never listened. He started talking about work, and what they were going to do for Christmas. She couldn't hear it anymore.

              "I've cried too many tears over money to let it ruin my Thanksgiving!" she screamed at him. It was the first and only time I ever heard my mother lash out at my father. She let so much go before then, it amazes me. She stood by all of his drunkenness and self loathing.

              Before my dad could even muster up the anger to yell back, Mom took me and Skaggs to the park.

              My Dad had this brown recliner. It was ugly as sin. When he lost his job he started sleeping in it, more like passing out. Every so often the old man would get so drunk he'd wet himself.

              After my dad deserted us, Skaggs and I had to carry that God-awful thing to the dumpster, it stunk like stale piss and Febreeze fucked and had a baby. Hell, I remember that chair better than the man that sat in it. The smell still haunts me.

              When we got back from the park he was in that recliner, but he wasn't passed out. He had a shotgun against his chest, and his brains were scattered across the living room.

              I know they say those who commit suicide go to hell, but I hope both my parents are headless in heaven.

              Despite his shortcomings, he was still my father and I remember the man that used to run that house.

              Skaggs held it in and never let go of the hate. He blamed my mom every second until the day he ripped her head off.

              Skaggs may be able to kick my ass, but he sure as hell can't beat a bullet.

Chapter XXVIII

The Mouth of Madness

            
 
Judd stands at the front of the cave, facing a team of ten officers. "Alright," he says, "we got two sets of prints on them pornos and paraphernalia, the lab ain't came back with a positive yet, but due to the circumstances, we gotta believe it's our killer and his two-bit junkie friend, Leroy Brown.

              "I'm willin' to bet barmaids to biscuits them cocksucker's are hidin' in these caverns. I know it splits up quite a bit, so find yourself a buddy and stick with 'em.

              "Now in some of these caverns the radios won't work, so ya'll got whistles as a backup, ya see somethin', blow." Judd looks out into the crowd and sees Bert the Rookie dressed in camouflage. "Damn Bert, workin' on yer day off? Were ya out huntin' and crossed our path?"

              "No sir, the only thing I'm huntin' is that junkie that killed his mama," Bert says.

              "That's a good man," Judd says, "all you slackers could learn a few things from this newbie."

              Bert Gleams, "thanks, boss."

              "No problem son," Judd smiles at Bert and then redirects his attention back to the crowd. "So this is how we're doin' it, we only got ten officers but we got the ten
best
officers on the force for close hand-to-hand combat. That's why you're in here instead of combin' the forest. We got cops surrounding the caves, and we got 'em posted at each of the major entrances. Now if for some reason he gets out, there's an all-points bulletin for both Rupert McDermott and Leroy Brown.

              "We got the police force in Champaign county watchin' out near the opening of the Ohio caverns, the police chief in Pickaway told me personally he's setting up checkpoints throughout Circleville and Chillicothe.

              "Even the cops in Columbus are lookin' to nab this fella. National news kiddos, but we wanna end it right here in Kobe.

              "We might be dealin' with two strung out tweakers, but there ain't no tellin' if they got any other assholes with em', so proceed with caution.

              "I'd like to extend some appreciation to Detective's Marley and Daniels for trackin' this sumbitch. You two are like bloodhounds."

              "We try to be, I wish we could have caught him already." Daniels says.

              "Don't beat yourself up, even bloodhounds lose a scent from time to time," Judd says, "where should we start, boys?"

              "We lost track of him about a hundred yards from here," Marley says, "he may have gone deeper into the cave or he coulda went to the river and followed it, shit, as far as Hocking. If we don't stop him soon he could make it all the way to Kentucky."

              "We better get movin' then. Marley and Daniels check out near the underground river, take Underwood and Struttsworth with you. I'll take the rest of the team deeper into the caverns. Marley, you call me if anything happens. Yer radio's working?"

              "For now," Marley says, "but there's no tellin' what'll happen in twenty minutes."

* * * * *

              As the crew splits up Denise Struttsworth grows anxious, not scared but definitely nervous. The young blonde has been on the force long enough to learn how to follow orders. Right or wrong, you get in line.

              She hasn't made detective yet, but depending on her actions during this mission, it could happen for her. No other female has been detective in this town, not because Kobe is against women, just that it hasn't produced someone like Struttsworth before.

              Her knife is sharp enough to shave a fruit fly. In this narrow space having a gun is about as much use as having a blender, you can't use either of them. One shot will ricochet and kill all four of them.

              Marley leads the four officers toward the sound of water. Denise brings up the rear, but she stays close behind her partner, Underwood. A good guy to have on her side, loyal, strong, but he doesn't have too much going on under the hood. 

              The cave opens up and the ceilings are covered in stalactites. Denise Struttsworth points her flashlight towards the top of the cavern. She sees something, but can't make it out. The ancy officer stops and looks around with her flashlight.

              "You okay back there Struttsworth?" Marley yells.

              "I'm fine, just thought I saw something at the top of the cave," she yells back. The shine of the flashlights illuminates the large stone room.

              "Want us to slow down?" Marley asks. "We don't wanna to lose you."

              "I said I'm fine," Denise says sternly. They always think she's the damsel.

              The three other cops walk through a narrow crevice as Denise Struttsworth takes one more look at the ceiling.

              Legs scurry across the ground, Denise follows the sound with her flashlight. A spider the size of her fist escapes the glow at first, but eventually stops to look at the armored police officer.

              "Damn, that's a big spider."

* * * * *

              Judd leads the other team of officers. "Alright boys," his mouth runs on autopilot as the seasoned senior focuses on every aspect of the cave, "we're gonna be gettin' up close and personal with this scum-sucker.

              "Make sure you got yer batons and knives ready. Try not to use guns, they're loud and in close quarters you might wound yerself."

              Washington slides his machine gun to his back and unsheathes a hunting knife with brass knuckles and a skull crusher on the bottom.

              Judd looks at Washington's weapon with admiration."That's a damn fine knife, Washington, hope ya get to introduce that blade to some junkie blood today," Judd walks slowly, checking both the high and low points of the cavern around him.

              Washington smirks, "who says I haven't already, Boss?"

              Judd chuckles, "I forgot you're from the Bay, you probably know more than I do about these stick-pin dolls."

              "I know a bit," Washington grins.

              "Have you met Skaggs? You ever detain him?" Judd turns away from Washington and shines his light forward.

              "I've picked him up once or twice," Washington says, "but every time he's clean. He ain't a dummy when it comes to gettin' caught."

              "Well he ain't escapin' today, ain't that right boys?" Judd asks.

              "He sure ain't," Bert nervously fidgets, mouse-like.

              Judd watches fear take hold of the boy, "you alright, Bert?"

              "Sha- sure. Just a little cold in here," Burt responds with rattling teeth.

              "Keep yer wits, it's only one guy, maybe two, and we gotta mess of soldiers with us. Let that fear wash off ya, and focus. The only thing you should be worrying about is whether to shoot him in the leg or the shoulder. Don't kill 'em, just wound 'em."

              "Yes, sir," Bert says with a bit more confidence.

* * * * *

              Skaggs hangs on to a stalactite and looks down at the hot yellow haired officer. He remembers her from English class back before he dropped out of high school, though she probably doesn't remember him.

              He's think about her while he jerked off, her perfect tits, that tight little ass, but the stuck up bitch never gave him the time of day. Not that he ever had the stones to ask her out.

             
I bet that cunt'll remember me now.
Skaggs thinks to himself.

              Denise stares at the spider, the scout ready to call on his comrades. It's cute that she fears his fuzzy friends.

              The grimy psycho-killer smells the terror secreting in her sweat. Skaggs enjoys the show, patiently waiting for the opportunity to strike.

              The tiny needles that stick out from beneath his arms and legs grip the limestone. The baby spiders were born in this cave. They have the area memorized. Thankfully they passed that knowledge to their prodigy, along with his heightened senses. His whole body is a reaction to his environment.

              Once unable to read more than a chapter in a kid's book without getting sidetracked, now he can focus his entire mind on one target.

* * * * *

              Marley continues to lead Daniels and Officer Underwood through the open space into a narrow passageway. He moves slowly, paying attention to clues.

              The junkie has been in these tight fitting areas, no doubt about it. The fresh scratches in the clay prove that there was some sort of recent activity.

              No normal person is squeezing this tight for any reason besides escape.

* * * * *

              The spider's two top eyes turn a soft, hollow white. They reflect the glow of Denise's flashlight. The spider's eyes entrance her, like headlights before a collision.

              The creepy creature freezes.

              Is it afraid of the light, or just playing possum?

              Denise can't be sure. Her natural instinct is to fear spiders, especially Brown Recluses, and Kobe has a ton of those.

              In her frightened state, she can't tell what breed it is. She just knows it's big, and fucking scary.

             
Denise's phobic paralysis keeps her at a standstill. The scar on her leg is a constant reminder of a run-in with a spider when she was a little girl.

              Denise was throwing out old paint cans in her Grandma's basement when a Brown Recluse crawled up her skirt and bit her. She thought the damn thing was dead until its fangs sunk in.

              Denise cried to her Grandma, but the old coot dismissed it as just a regular house spider. She became sick a few days later, almost like the flu.

              By the time she went to the doctor, the bite looked like a cigar burn with pink and white jelly in the middle.

              She can't remember what she wore to dinner last night, but the pain of having that wound drained is crystal clear.

              She focuses on the here and now, never taking her eyes off the eight legged freak. The hydraulic motion of the spider makes its legs pop.

              Slow.

              Quick-slow.

              Stop motion, like an old super eight camera. The creature reveals long, tusk-like, fangs.

              She wants to scream, but terror seizes her vocal cords.

* * * * *

              Judd and his team arrive at a split. "We got us a choice for going deeper in right here," Judd motions to a set of stone steps, "or we could keep moving straight and look for him on the higher ground."

              "Lets split up," Washington says, "we can cover more ground that way."

              "Took the words right outta my mouth," Judd smiles, "okay, we'll go three and three. Bert you and Ellington are with me. Washington, take Dwight and Kessler straight ahead. Holler if ya see or hear somethin'. Check yer radio, make sure that sucker's workin'."

              Washington turns it on, but all he hears is static. He pushes the talk button. Judd tries to listen to his walkie talkie, but nothing comes out.

              "Alright," Judd instructs, "just use the whistles."

              "Or gunfire," Washington says.

              "Only in the clearings, Washington, we don't wanna lose someone to friendly fire."

* * * * *

              Denise's muscle memory reacts and she douses the spider with pepper spray. The arachnid's high pitch screech bounces off the cave walls.

              It doesn't run away in fear, or curl up in a ball like some spiders do when poisoned. It spreads the clay, and burrows into the ground, slowly, as if taunting the blonde police officer.

              She dashes to catch up with Underwood, but the ground begins to shake. Denise kneels down to control her balance. Stalactites fall from the ceiling crashing one by one on the ground around her.