Carbon 250 - Chapter 18

Sparks

I won't pull the trigger

just to see you die

no remedy to make me come alive

I'm a ticking time bomb

no fuse just guts and gore

The time was twenty minutes to sunset.  The air, unusually warm for that time of year.  The location:  a quarter mile south of the bridge where the anonymous but violent motorcyclist, had, technically in self defense (well maybe thats a stretch) cracked the rear windshield of a car with a chain.  The players:  a tough guy named Frankie, a fat guy named Orville, and a road ninja named Biff.

Orville was at the wheel.  Frankie was in the right seat.  Orville did not like Frankie.  Orville thought Frankie was a hard ass that wouldn't stop talking about his tour in Iraq.  Frankie thought Orville was a fat pussy.  They were both right.  They hated each other.  They loved the salary.  They kept the peace, at least the best they could.  They only had to last to the end of phase one, when they would get new partners in the full roll out.  Frankie wouldn't wait for it;  that's when they would get firearm authorization.

"Would you stop stuffing your face and keep your eyes on the road?"  said Frankie.  It wasn't really a request.  Frankie was busy craning his neck trying to see a motorcyclist that was just barely in his mirror, and every time Orville took a bite the car swerved just a tiny bit, and the rider went completely out of the view.

"I'm fine.  Geez," whined Orville.

Outside, Biff was analyzing the car.  Goverment plates.  Strange.  The SUV-type minivan was mostly black, but had official looking markings that strangely did not identify the vehicle.  Biff pulled a phone out with his left hand to take a picture.

Inside the car, Orville began freaking out.  "Oh fuck.  Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck FUCK!!!!!"

Frankie's head swung left in an instant.  There was no blood, no trauma or oncoming vehicles, no missiles or spaceships or anything else that would warrant such a reaction.  The kid was fine.

Orville was not fine.  "Kill it!"  There was a spider the size of Texas coming down on a thin strand of icky web.  Where did that get this truck?  Really where?  In the back of an icky salvage yard?  In a spiders next.  Orville's hands turned red as he squeezed the life out of the steering wheel.  Then his knuckles turned white.  The spider was coming down fast, descending on its helpless prey.  "Kill it kill it kill it kill it kill it kill it...."  Orville was starting to hyperventilate.

Frankie finally saw the spider and almost lost it.  "Are you kidding me?"  The spider was smaller than his thumb.  He took one look at the kid, though, and realized it was serious.  The kid was going to have a conniption.  Frankie reached for the spider.

The spider got within three inches of Orville's hand.  Orville jerked the wheel, to his hand out of reach.  He jerked it a little too hard.

Thats what she said.

Outside the car, Biff had one picture of the plate and was trying to get one of the side markings.  He raise his phone up, and pressed the button.  Suddenly the SUV-type minivan swerved right, clipping Biff's front tire.  The bike went down and Biff went forward in a high side fall.  Those are the worst kind.

The SUV crossed the lane, the shoulder and layed into the guardrail in a [small] shower of sparks.  Then the brake lights came on, and it slid to a stop on locked wheels.

Biff's world was a blur for a moment, with flying, tumbling, rolling, sliding.  He came to rest.  Many things hurt.  He rolled to his back.  Nothing felt broken--fuck!  he was in the lane.  Biff scrambled to get a look at the lane.  Cars were there, but they had slowed and started changing lanes.  He inventoried himself.  No broken bones.  Whatever he was wearing was damn good armor;  he'd have to buy more of that brand.

Inside the SUV, Frankie was screaming at Orville.  Orville, with one twinkie, had nearly undone the entire operation.  If anyone reported this, they were fucked with their pants down.  Frankie couldn't get out on his side.  "Move!"  He kicked Orville until Orville got the door out and spilled onto the ground.  Frankie was right behind him, and cleared his fat partner with a quick leap.  He looked back, and his hopes were crushed.  First of all the motorcyclist was covered head to toe in thick armor;  he appeared to be unharmed.  Worse, the motorcyclist slowly rose to his feet.  Maybe not slowly, maybe Frankie's mind was racing and he saw in slow motion.  He felt a familiar chill run up his back, the one cause by seeing someone point an AK in his direction: the rider reached up under his chin, grabbed the quick released strap, yanked it.  Then he reached up with both hands, pushing the black full face helmet up and off his face.  Frankie saw his chin, mouth and nose.  His eyes...oh shit...forehead...hair.  One hand closed over the edge of the helmet, finger by finger.  The man's arm swung down, throwing the helmet into the ground, where it smashed and bounced.  Frankie looked down an Orville, who was still getting to his feet, and then at the rider.  The rider stared back.

Biff threw his helmet onto the ground.  It was useless anyway, except as a weapon, but he had a better one on the bike.  He stared at the morons who had just piled out of the minivan.  One guy looked tough.  The other was a...what were these clowns?  Biff looked at his bike.  First things first.  Control your anger.  Get the girl back on her tires so she'll start later.  Biff got her to the side of the road.  This one had a carburetor.  The fairing was was a mess but the frame didn't collapse when he stood it up.  That was a good sign.  Bill deployed the kick stand and turned the key off.  The forks looked ok.  The tires still had air.  Nothing was leaking, yet.  He'd wait a few minutes and try the starter.

"On your feet, kid.  We gotta nip this in the bud."  Frankie led the pair back to the motorcyclist, who was attending to his bike.  On the way, Frankie found a cell phone.  Frankie showed Orville.  Orville's face lit up.  It should have--that phone just saved their asses.  "Excuse me!" Frankie called out when they were a couple meters away.  "Is this your cell phone?"

The rider stopped tinkering with his bike for a second and looked at them, but didn't answer.

"Sir I'm going to need you to step away from the vehicle."

"Do you clowns have badge numbers?" asked Biff.

"No we-"

"Then I'm going to need you to fuck off and die," Biff answered.  They were standing on either side of him, muscling up, even the fat one.  Biff stared at the one that looked like a war vet.

Frankie pulled out the taser.  It had a ten foot range.  He was three feet from Biff.  Biff's chest was all thrust out and stuff, but his arms were dangling at his sides, hands empty.  Frankie aimed the taser at the middle of Biff's chest.  He didn't want any mistakes.  "I'm not going to ask again.  Step away from the bike.  Put your hands behind your head."  Frankie used his other hand to check his back pocket, then looked at Orville.  "You got the handcuffs?"

"Real cops don't like it when assholes run people over," said Biff slowly.  He was still staring at Frankie.  Frankie didn't like it.

"Hey!  Sir.  You were using a cell phone," said Orville.  "That's not allowed.  Its an arrestable offense."  Bullshit.  It was not, and they had no leg to stand on.  Then Orville gave Biff a line he couldn't resist:  "Think of it as a citizens arrest."  Then, Orville saw the socket wrench.  He saw it as Biff turned.  It was the kind you keep in a car for changing a flat.  It was black had a 90 degree curve.  There was a socket on the short end, and a crowbar tip on the other.  It wasn't even in his hand; it looked like the tip was caught in his sleeve.  The movement distracted them from seeing the wrench from sliding into his hand.  This was no ordinary socket wrench.  It was made of hardened steel, and the crowbar tip was sharpened like a knife.  In fact, since its creation it had not fastened nor unfastened a single bolt.

Biff looked back at Orville, "Very well, citizen."

Biff's right arm flashed, swinging the crowbar with his wrist as well as his arm.  It caught Frankie off guard.  Frankie fell to the ground.  Biff swung back around, at the hips, bringing all of his available body weight across to bear on Orville's head.  Orville's head exploded in pain.  He collapsed to the ground, unable to do anything other than wallow in red and stars.

Frankie had been hit by far worse things than tools.  He was back up on one knee and firing the taser while Biff was still turning to face him.  The two metal leads shot out of the device with enough force to shatter an eyeball, and into Biffs midsection.  Biff owned a shirt with a wire mesh intended to safetly divert the electricity.  He wasn't wearing it.  He didn't need it.  The leads didn't even pierce his body armor.  Biff threw wrench end over end to Frankie's face.  It broke Frankies nose.

Biff wasted no time in obtaining the taser and returning the favor.  Frankie was not wearing a wire mesh shirt, or any kind of body armor.  The shock went directly to his flesh.  Biff used another charge.  Then, another.  He pulled an ID clip from Frankie's shirt.  Greywater Security.  They were fucking mercenaries.  Biff shocked the man again.  He glanced back at Orville, and then fired yet another surge of electricity through Frankie.  Frankie spat blood afterwards.  Biff held onto the taser, continuing to fire more charges as he walked back to his bike and tried the starter.  It wasn't working.  Biff briefly wondered is tasing the man was such a good idea since he might need the charge, but then his bike started.  Biff looked down at Frankie.  Frankie wasn't moving.  Biff ripped the leads out, and volleyed the taser over the highway, down into the lanes on the other side of the median.  Time was of the essence:  the sun had not set and people could see him.  A true road ninja does not linger.

Biff ran to the SUV-style minivan and found it with the key on and still running.  Biff did not want to sacrifice the weapon that had just saved him from a [more] bloody battle, so instead he tore off the door of the glove compartment and used that to  wedge the gas pedal to the flow, giving the wheel a bit of a twist as he fell back out.  The minivan lurched into traffic and caused an immediate pileup.  Biff ran back, tossed the helmet away from the road, grabbed the cell phone, hopped on his bike, gunned the engine, spun around, and took off, splitting the lanes against the flow of traffic, going back the way he'd came.  The real police would find small to medium pileup with the mercenaries' minivan in the center.

Orville was rushed to the hospital with a skull fracture, but would not remember much about the incident, except for the parts with the spider that he needed to lie about anyway.  Maggie Pennington was beside herself with worry.  Her people were given the news and started working on a way to turn this to her benefit.

Frankie was still breathing when Biff rolled out, but expired before help arrived.  A representative of the taser company, Marksen Lot, crossed out "taser" on the death report and replaced it with "excited delerium."



/* 49,698 words including chapter titles.  and...there is a lot left to write... */