Desperate Times Three - Revolution Page 4

  “He is,” Paula said.

  “Okay, I suppose I can trust him.” Vetter said, nodding his head.” Just shoot me up.”

  “Oh, please,” Doc said, drilling the tainted syringe into the side of Vetter’s bicep. “Now, give me that finger.”

  “I don’t feel so good,” said Kyle, sheepishly. “I need to go out and get some air.”

  “Paula,” Doc said, pointing at Kyle. “Get him out of here. Take him out through the garage and over to his own people. Do it now.”

  “You’re not the boss of me,” Paula said haughtily. “But I need another beer, so I’ll do it. Come on, Kyle. I hope you’re not going to puke.”

  “I hope your back feels better,” quipped Jimmy, watching Paula as she led the stumbling Kyle around the corner into the shadows to the door that led into the tuck-under garage.

  “I’ll be back in a minute. You’re an asshole, Jimmy,” Paula said before slamming the door.

  “She’s so hot,” Vetter said, dreamily.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Doc. “I’m going to work on that finger now.”

  “What?”

  “Your finger. Are you ready?”

  “Huh?”

  Again Doc gave Jimmy that same cold look that had chilled him just a moment before. Jimmy had watched Doc on several occasions as he had given Bill his daily dose of morphine, and he knew that he had injected both Kyle and Vetter with a whole lot more of the drug than he’d ever given Bill. Vetter’s eyes were glassy, and he was now swaying on his feet. Doc removed a small bone saw from his bag and examined it in the light. The instrument glimmered in the oily light, and Jimmy’s mouth went dry at the sight of it.

  “This man has blood poisoning,” Doc said to Jimmy. “I’m afraid there’s nothing left to do but amputate his hand at the wrist. If we don’t, he’ll die. I’m going to need your help.”

  “No!” gasped Vetter as he tried to wrestle his arm free from Doc’s steel grip.

  “Doc, I don’t know about this.”

  Doc pointed at Jimmy with the saw. “You will help me! Take hold of his other arm. This won’t take long.”

  Jimmy did as he had been ordered and could feel Vetter’s lean muscles slowly turn to jelly because of the morphine. He was now whimpering in his drug-induced stupor. Jimmy turned his head as Doc planted Vetter’s hand on the dirty workbench and began to saw into the wrist, just above the hand. Vetter squealed in pain.

  “You’re lucky you came to me when you did,” Doc grunted over Vetter’s shrieks as he continued to hack away with the bone saw. “Quit moving!”

  The sounds of snapping tendons and sawed bones sang sourly in Jimmy’s ears, and he felt a sudden wave of nausea flood over him as hot blood spattered his bare arms.

  “No…” moaned Vetter, but the fight had completely left his body, and Jimmy found himself holding Doc’s patient up by the armpits.

  “Almost there,” said Doc, as if they were pulling out a bad tooth. “Jimmy, we’re going to need Ken’s torch to cauterize the wrist. Just about there…”

  Jimmy swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as he stared at the butchery in progress. The fingers and thumb of the nearly severed hand were twitching, and spaghetti-like veins jittered as Doc continued to hack away. The smell of blood was thick and nearly enough to make Jimmy gag. He fought with himself over the ethics at work here. He was following a doctor’s orders, but he was also certain that Doc had gone quite mad. The question was if his condition was temporary.

  “There! Quick, Jimmy, hand me that torch over there. He’s losing a lot of blood.”

  “He’s passed out. What do I do with him?”

  “Drop him. He isn’t going to feel it.”

  “I can’t drop him,” Jimmy said, now beginning to feel the anger growing inside of him because of what Doc had made him an accomplice to. With Doc holding a shop rag over the spurting wrist, Jimmy gently lowered Vetter’s prone body out on the concrete. He went for the torch.

  The door from the garage suddenly swung open, and Paula stared at Jimmy with wide eyes. “Oh, my God, Jimmy. What happened to you?”

  A moment later she was screaming loud enough to wake the dead.

  Jimmy tossed Doc the small propane torch, and amid Paula’s wailing screams, Doc twisted the gas valve open and clicked the igniter button three times. Blue flame shot from the tip of the torch, and as if casually soldering a leaky pipe, Doc began to cauterize the bloody stump at the end of Vetter’s pale arm. Vetter suddenly woke up and began to scream at the top of his lungs.

  “He had blood poisoning,” Jimmy shouted at Paula, who was now sobbing into her cupped hands. “Doc had to take the hand off or he was going to die.”

  Ken and Cindy were suddenly standing in the workshop and Cindy gasped as she stared at the grizzly scene in the inky light. She immediately spun on her heels and charged back up the stairs. Ken stood frozen in his tracks, shaking his head and muttering silent curses.

  “Jimmy’s right,” Doc said, his eyes threatening to bulge right out of their sockets. “I had to do it!”

  “You get that kid back to his people and clean this mess up!” Ken shouted, sternly, yet dismissively. Jimmy could see that this new development was too much for him to comprehend right now. Ken stood and stared at Jimmy, open mouthed, before he also spun around and stalked back up the wooden stairs.

  Paula tuned to Jimmy also and stared at him, but the look on her face was one of hatred, as if she blamed him for what had happened down there. Jimmy returned the look with a scowl of his own and followed Ken upstairs. He had seen enough and had no desire to see what happened next. Julie was waiting for him in the kitchen. She had her hands on her hips, and the expression on her face was nearly enough to send Jimmy back into the basement.

  “What in the hell happened down there?”

  “I don’t know,” Jimmy replied, honestly. “Doc said that he had blood poisoning and that if he didn’t amputate his hand, the guy would die.”

  Julie blinked hard as she digested what Jimmy had said. “Are you kidding me?” she asked, her jaw hanging slack and her eyes studying him with incredulity. “So, you just stood by and let him chop off the poor guy’s hand?”

  “What the hell was I supposed to do?”

  “Holy shit!” Julie said, slapping her hand to her forehead. “How do you suppose his friends are going to take this? Somebody has to go tell them.”

  “Don’t look at me. Doc can handle that. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

  From down below, the sound of Paula’s renewed shouting began to reverberate inside the confines of the small kitchen. The words they could decipher were language that was strictly forbidden in the Dahlgren household. Julie groaned and Jimmy closed his eyes and shook his head. Things were coming unhinged, and he felt powerless to stop whatever was to come. There were sounds of banging and thumping, and something crashed hard on the concrete floor. Paula continued to rant and rave, and Jimmy waited for Ken to appear in the kitchen and charge downstairs. But he never did.

  A moment later, the commotion suddenly died away as quickly as it had begun.

  “I don’t like this,” said Julie.

  Jimmy looked at her and covered his face. “I don’t like it, either,” he replied. “This is so bad.”

  “We should go down there.”

  “Let them figure it out. Trust me, we do not want to get in the middle of this.”

  “We don’t know what’s happening down there.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t think we want to know.”

  Julie stared at Jimmy for a minute and then turned and walked away. He followed her into the empty living room that was lit by a single candle and out into the porch. The porch was lit by two lanterns and they found Cindy sitting on her father’s bedside, while Bill snored away in blissful ignorance of the situation brewing in the basement.

  “What are we going to do?” Cindy asked, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks.

 
Julie rushed to her and wrapped her arms around Cindy, who looked completely lost. “There, there,” said Julie. “Everything will work itself out, you’ll see.”

  “What happened down there?” Cindy asked, looking at Jimmy as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Doc looks like a crazy man.”

  “Doc’s in love with Paula,” Jimmy answered, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “I think that says enough,” said Julie. “Jimmy, if you love me you’ll go down there and see what’s going on. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. One of them should have been up here by now.”

  “Maybe they took Vetter back to his people,” Jimmy said, not believing it. “That’s what Ken told him to do.”

  “Fine,” said Julie. “And you’ll know that if you go down there. I’m going to stay here with Cindy and Bill. Run down there quick and check on them. Please?”

  Jimmy stood there for a long moment and said nothing. He knew he had to go, but every fiber in his body told him that he wanted nothing more to do with the nightmare unfolding down in the basement workshop. Finally, Jimmy nodded his head. He had been cornered and knew it. He walked back into the living room and grabbed the holster that contained Ken’s Smith & Wesson. He cinched the belt loosely around his waist and found that the big revolver felt good on his hip.

  He took a deep breath and continued on into the kitchen.

  Jimmy paused at top of the stairs. “Doc?” he called. “Is everything okay down there?”

  The basement was quiet; the silence was enough to make the hair on the back of Jimmy’s neck stand straight up. As a young child, Jimmy had always been afraid of something in the basement of the Dahlgren lake home. The dark shadows surrounding the massive octopus-style furnace had frightened him; coupled with the dungeon-like smells and dingy light, it was a place he rarely visited alone. He slowly took the next step and the wooden stair groaned under his weight. “Paula? Are you two still down there?”

  Jimmy stared down into the faint orange glow of the flickering light and took another two steps down. His nostrils were suddenly assaulted by the smell of cooking meat, and the smell sickened him. Something inside his brain screamed at him to turn around and as it continued to beg him to do so, as he slowly made his way down the stairs. The basement was utterly silent as his feet settled on the concrete floor. “Doc?”

  Jimmy unholstered the Smith & Wesson and drew back the hammer with a loud metallic click. He steeled himself against what lay around the corner and slowly moved forward.

  Nate Vetter would never steal another man’s woman; not in this world. “Oh, shit,” Jimmy hissed, trying not to look at the body. From the looks of it, someone had tried to sever Vetter’s head with Ken’s double-bitted axe. The killer had nearly succeeded as the floor was covered in dark red blood. Beyond Vetter’s body was the wooden door to the small storage room where the other men hid out to smoke their cigarettes. The door was open a few inches.

  “Jimmy!” shouted Ken’s voice from the top of the stairs, sending his pulse skyrocketing. “What’s going on down there?”

  “Stay upstairs,” Jimmy said after taking a deep breath. Ken had nearly given him a heart attack. “You don’t want to see this.”

  The next sound was of Ken’s heavy footsteps clomping down the wooden staircase. A few seconds later, gun in hand, he was standing next to Jimmy. “Son-of-a-bitch,” muttered Ken. “What next?”

  Jimmy had a good idea what was next and pointed toward the open door. “I think Doc and Paula are in there,” he whispered.

  “Doc?” called Ken. “Come on out of there. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” replied Doc’s voice from behind the door.

  Jimmy and Ken exchanged a look and stood their ground. Jimmy’s eyes rested on the white skin of the amputated hand that was still sitting on the workbench. Jimmy quickly looked away, but his stomach rolled at the memory. He should have tried to stop Doc; he now knew it, and his conscience was never going to let him forget that. He was partially to blame for all of this.

  “Open the door,” Ken said, raising his chin as he did so. “I need you to come out of there.”

  “I’m sorry,” Doc whimpered. “I guess I went a little crazy. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

  “We know that, Doc,” Jimmy said. “Come on out and we’ll help you.”

  “You should have warned me about her, kid. She made me do it. She was an evil bitch and I loved her so damn much.”

  Jimmy felt a pang in his heart as he realized that Paula was dead. Somehow, he had hoped that she had escaped out the garage door.

  Sadly, Ken shook his head. “Where is she, Doc? Is she in there with you?”

  “No, she’s out in the garage. You might not want to go in there, I’m afraid she isn’t so pretty, not anymore. I’m sorry… I’m so damn sorry for all of this.”

  “Old-timer, I’m coming in. Don’t do anything foolish, okay? I want to help you.”

  “You can’t help me,” Doc replied in a weak voice. “I’m done for.”

  Jimmy watched as Ken slowly opened the door. There Doc sat, holding his head in his large hands. He was covered from head to toe in bright red blood. Doc looked up at Ken like a guilty child. “I’m sorry, Ken,” he whispered. “She was going to tell Julie everything... She was a bad person, but I loved her.”

  Jimmy was fairly certain what Paula was planning to tell Julie. They had been kidding themselves to think that the others wouldn’t figure out that she was pregnant. Jimmy could see the syringe and the empty vial on the concrete floor, and he knew that Doc wasn’t long for this world. He stifled his tears as he watched Ken set his gun on the workbench and embrace his old friend. Doc wrapped his arms around Ken and wept bitterly. This was the first time that Jimmy had seen Ken hug any man, and the significance of that hit him hard. He turned away and lit up a cigarette.

  By the time he had finished smoking, Doc was dead.

  Ken, his bare arms smeared with blood, picked up his gun and wiped the tears from his eyes as he brushed past Jimmy. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to go tell Dundlemore about this.” He picked up a flashlight and flicked it on. Yellow light shone up into the cobwebs covering the twisted tangle of ductwork.

  “Yeah,” Jimmy replied, hating the thought of it.

  Jimmy groaned as Ken opened the garage door and shone the beam of light inside. Ken’s head suddenly rocked back as if he’d been punched. He quickly closed the door. “Follow me,” he said. “We’ll take the stairs.”

  Julie was waiting for them at the kitchen door as they hit the landing. “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “Don’t go down there,” Ken ordered. “Doc and Paula are dead. Don’t let anyone down there. Do you hear me?”

  Julie put her hand over her mouth and nodded. “Oh, Ken,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

  Julie gave Jimmy a sorrowful look as she closed the back door to the kitchen. This was no time for them to discuss what had happened. Paula’s days of getting under their skin were over, and Jimmy was still adjusting to that reality. Despite everything, he found that he was terribly saddened by what had happened. He needed to come to terms with it, and soon.

  Ken stuffed his handgun, a snub-nosed .38, into the back pocket of his jeans and pointed to Jimmy’s holstered gun. “Conceal that and leave the holster here. I don’t think you’ll need it, but we sure as hell aren’t taking any chances.” Ken spat bitterly into the grass and began to walk, training the flashlight beam in front of them.

  The bonfire next door was bright orange and lit up the night sky. Ted Nugent’s guitar echoed in the trees, and alcohol-fueled voices laughed cheerily from the other side of the wall. The party would soon be over, thought Jimmy.

  He would remember this moment for a long time as the calm before the storm.

  Chapter 6

  "Years ago, it meant someth
ing to be crazy. Now everyone's crazy." ~ Charles Manson

  They were twenty feet from the gate when Ken’s flashlight beam fell upon a dark form lying on the grass. A second passed before Jimmy recognized the form as belonging to Nate Vetter’s tattooed friend. Kyle was flat on his back and didn’t move as they approached. Ken shone the beam into the young man’s face and Jimmy grimaced. Kyle’s vacant eyes were open wide, and white foam bubbled from his yawning mouth.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” mumbled Ken, leaning over and pressing two fingers against the young man’s carotid artery. He pulled his fingers away and shook his head before wiping his hand on the grass. “This is just great,” he growled. “Like I don’t have enough shit to deal with right now. God damn it!”

  Jimmy looked away from the body and followed Ken as he led the way over to the raucous party next door. Ken strode straight over to the source of the music, a battered Dodge Neon and pointed at a young man who was thumbing through a stack of CDs.

  “Shut that off,” Ken said, pointing to the glowing stereo mounted into the dash of the small Dodge. “I’ve got something to say.”

  “Blow it out your ass, old man,” replied the husky kid.

  Ken casually drove his knee into the kid’s stomach with enough force to send him flat on his back. The young man rolled on the grass, moaning as he held his stomach. Ken reached inside the Dodge and shut off the music, and all eyes slowly turned on Jimmy and Ken.

  “Hey, buddy,” Mark Dundlemore said, a confused smile playing at the corner of his lips. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “We’ve got a problem,” Ken said.

  A beer can suddenly hit Ken in the chest and exploded, showering both Jimmy and Ken in cold liquid. A cheer erupted from the crowd of young men that was followed by roaring jackass laughter. Ken slowly wiped the beer from his face and stared coldly at Dundlemore, who looked amused by what had happened.

  “Turn the music back on, Ken,” Dundlemore ordered. “And then go back home.”

  “Not until you hear what I have to say.”

  Another beer can flew by Ken’s ear, and Jimmy could plainly see who had thrown it. Ken’s face was bright red, and the veins in his neck were pulsing with blood.