Chapter 21 #5
“Well, I can either ride my bike around the block and try to sneak up on him from the back, which will be difficult without some sort of distraction, or I can go back to where we parked the bikes, cross there, and go through the woods on the other side of the street. Just surprise him at his fuckin’ window.
When I’ve got him secured, I’ll signal you, and we can go in together. ”
“This will facilitate your plan,” Legion’s creepy voice coming out of fucking nowhere startles both of us. He drops the duffel bag at our feet with a significantly heavier-sounding thud, before crouching to unzip it. He reaches inside and pulls out some rope and zip-ties.
“That’ll work,” Viking says. “Boatyard. Good thinking .”
Legion scoffs at the comment. He shoves the items back inside and zips the bag closed, then stands and exchanges it with Viking for the binoculars.
“Alright, show time,” Viking says while slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder. Then he heads back in the direction of our bikes.
Legion and I wait silently for his signal, and though I’m glad he’s not taking the opportunity to piss me off in private, I can’t help but note the way his expression shifts from neutral to evilly amused.
I’m probably going to regret this, but… “You have that devious look in your eyes… What are you thinking about?”
“Double penetration.”
Yup. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“I’d wager you’re about to be.” Legion chuckles darkly.
“Unless you’re talking about the two of us taking this place and leaving Viking outside to keep watch, I don’t want to hear it.”
“You do realize I never left Bermuda County, don’t you?” I wasn’t expecting those words, and my expression must convey as much, because his evil grin broadens. “Speaking metaphorically , of course.”
“Why wouldn’t you be?” I sigh with regret.
“I’m curious whether you’d admit I’ve been living rent-free in your minds, and therefore by proxy, in your home, the entire duration of my absence?”
“I’m not playing this game with you.”
“You’re haunted by me, aren’t you? Admit it. I’ve been dwelling within the walls of your home for years, haven’t I? Tell me, do you ever wonder if I’ve been in your bed as well? How often have we both been inside her, simultaneously ?”
Every molecule of my being wants to fucking kill him.
“ Metaphorically ,” he adds.
I want to slug that fucking grin off his face. “Keep it up, and there won’t be anything metaphorical about me plugging a bullet in your fucking kneecap.”
“And will you spin her a tale of friendly fire?”
“There won’t be anything friendly about it.” I shove the binoculars hard against his chest. “Occupy yourself with waiting for the signal.”
Legion turns from me and lifts the binoculars to his eyes. “Perhaps my love language really is taking bullets for her.”
“Do you want to die?”
Legion shrugs with an indifference I almost believe. “We have unfinished business and promises to keep. I plan to stick around at least long enough to see those through… Besides, I blow shit up better than you.”
“Is that what your brother told you?”
He lowers the binoculars to scowl at me. “The only thing you blow up better than me is shit out of proportion.” He tucks the binoculars into his jacket pocket. “Your kid calls me Legend… How does that make you feel?”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply this time.
Legion knowingly grins. “Viking is ready. Let’s go.”
“ T he two cooks inside only have a walkie. I took this prick’s cell,” Viking informs us. He grabs the bound and gagged guy and shoves him inside the back of the van, then slams the doors shut.
Legion doesn’t seem at all surprised. “They’re here to cook, not get distracted. Distractions slow down production and potentially lead to dire mishaps. Did our lookout happen to have a key?”
“Can’t pick a lock?” I’m unable to refrain from digging at him now that he’s pissed me off.
Legion shoots me a scornful glare as if genuinely insulted. “ Please .”
Viking tosses a small key to him, and Legion moves swiftly to unlock and remove the chain on the gate. “After you, gentlemen.” He gestures with a mocking bow for us to proceed.
The meth lab is surrounded by junked vehicles that have been picked over for parts and is situated against the back cinderblock wall separating the scrapyard from the storage facility on the other side.
“I sure hope whoever’s got shit in those units took out insurance,” Viking jokes as we take cover behind a row of rusty old cars.
“We need to get them to come out,” I say.
“Dealers are a dime a dozen. Cooks hold a significantly higher value,” Legion says. “You already let the guy at the motel go to report back. Killing these guys would reinforce the message. Besides, the most effective way to resolve an infestation is extermination.”
“We’re not murdering anyone tonight. Unlike you, Legion, if I go to prison, people I love will be affected. I realize this is all a foreign concept to you, being unloved and unwanted .” Viking chuckles while I go on, “ Alone …nobody counting on you for anything.”
“Fuck. I get it ,” Legion growls.
“I’m just gonna go knock,” Viking says with a shrug.
“Fuck it. This doesn’t need to be complicated.
One will open the door, I’ll grab him, and one of you guys can bum rush the other and drag him out.
We’ll tie them up and put them in the van, then come back and blow this fucking trailer sky high.
Someone will call it in, and the cops will find them practically gift-wrapped. ”
“Unless they just open the door and shoot you.” I sigh. “Or one of us gets shot by the guy inside.”
“Or one of them will come outside to see why their industrial fan stopped working,” Legion casually says. “I just unplugged it.”
“ Jesus fuck , I didn’t even hear you step away.”
Legion continues without commenting, “When one of them steps out to inspect the problem, grab him and instruct him to call for the other to give him a hand.”
Before either of us can say anything, Legion sprints with an eerie silence toward the trailer, then crawls behind the aluminum stairs by the door. He practically disappears within the darkness, like some kind of sinister trapdoor spider waiting to strike its unsuspecting prey.
“Is it just me, or…” Viking begins.
“No, he’s definitely a disturbing individual.”
The trailer door opens, and one of the cooks emerges. He glances around but doesn’t spot us. Legion left the power cord where he’d see it unplugged, and the guy heads straight for it. As soon as he bends to pick it up, Viking strikes, grabbing him and pressing the Beretta to his head.
“You make a sound and I’ll snap your fuckin’ neck,” Viking warns him. The guy is frozen in panic but manages to nod. “Call your buddy. Tell him you need a hand and sound fucking convincing about it. Calm and casual, or you’re both dead.”
The guy does as he’s told, at least convincingly enough, and the cook inside comes to the door.
He descends the couple of steps slowly, obviously leery of the situation.
He can see his friend, but not us, crouched low, holding the gun on him.
I half expect Legion to wait until the guy descends the steps all the way, then rise from the darkness like some omnipotent shadow being.
Instead, he grabs the guy’s ankle from behind the steps and trips him.
By the time the guy realizes he just kissed the fucking dirt, Legion is on his back, holding him down with a knife against the side of his neck.
The three of us make quick work of zip-tying their hands behind their backs. Viking grabs the duffel bag and removes the rope Legion stole from somebody’s boat, then steps closer to the trailer, about to toss the bag inside to burn with it.
“Wait,” Legion says, “If we leave the bag with them in the van, it will further solidify another charge of intent to distribute.”
“He’s right,” I concur. “Something else for the cops to pressure them with to get them to flip on this network.”
Once we’ve got them bound nicely together in the back of the van with their guard and duffle bag of intent, Viking shuts the door on them and turns to face Legion and me.
“Should we go get the bikes before we blow this thing up?” he asks. “You and I can hoof it easily, but I don’t know if the Marlboro Man here can run that distance.”
I can’t help but grin at Legion. “How is your stamina , Legion?”
He scowls at me. “I haven’t gotten any complaints.”
“We’ll fuckin’ sprint it then. Let’s get this over with,” I say, heading back into the scrapyard.
“I’m sure there’s something we can light on fire and toss in there,” Viking says, scanning the remnants of old cars surrounding the trailer.
“I’ve got it covered.” Legion removes a bright orange object from within his jacket.
“Is that a fucking flare gun ?” Viking laughs.
“Yes, it is! They’re particularly common among boaters. Maritime regulations state they are to be carried onboard in case the need for a distress signal arises.” Legion grins and shifts his gaze to the cook trailer, raising his arm to take aim. “I thoroughly enjoy saying this.”
“Saying what?” Viking asks.
“ Fire in the hole!” Legion shouts and squeezes the trigger.
A loud bang accompanies a burst of orange and red light as the flare rockets into the trailer, leaving a trail of smoke lingering in the air.
The interior glows an angry red. We turn and run like hell before the fucking thing explodes.
Just as our boots hit the pavement beyond the gate, the meth lab explodes in a thunderous roar that seems to linger.
Debris and shrapnel clatter against surfaces in the scrapyard, raining down on the hood and roof of the van as well.
We continue to haul ass down the street, Viking laughing, Legion wheezing, but so far, he’s keeping a decent enough pace with us.
We reach our motorcycles and quickly mount, firing them up.