Collateral Damage Part 7
Parked on a litter-strewn street the Escape's engine purred softly, vibrating against Heero's hands clutched firmly around the steering wheel. Spurred by restless impatience his fingers drummed then his watch was checked for the third or fourth time.
The sleazy sector of Midville didn't bother Heero and certainly not the Satan's Slaves loitering outside a shabby boarding house with peeling paint and rusted gutters as the skilled gunman could've easily handled the not-so-tough punks. Likewise the prospect of Green Dragon henchmen delivering him, not necessarily in pristine condition, to face brutal chastisement wasn't responsible for his constant glances up and down the street. It was Duo's caught-in-the-middle status that fueled the rogue agent's anxiousness.
Five days ago Heero Yuy hadn't been afraid of anyone or anything. Maybe stupidity or cocksureness or some dormant death wish were the contributing factors for his lack of dread, perhaps he just didn't give a damn. But now needing Duo so badly had sealed both their fates and he knew, without a doubt, the deadly consequences should they be found together.
Unexpectedly that once latent fear slithered up his spine in a sturdy shiver. "Come on, Fredrick, where the hell are you?" hissed under his breath.
In the passenger seat Duo ignored the gang; instead he studied a teenage girl huddled on the crumbling concrete steps. Multiply piercing spearing her face and spiked blond hair dyed blue on the tips were obvious signs of rebellion. Her too thin frame cocooned in a ratty cloth coat, persistent sniffles and dark circles underscoring lackluster eyes offered outward testimony to the probable abuse of addictive substances.
As his sight lingered on the petite female's pallid countenance past memories of another girl standing on another front pouch resurfaced with stark clarity. In the resurrected recollections she wiped tears from sad eyes then waved her hand.
Beside an older model van a younger Duo swallowed hard to suppress his urge to cry and copied the gesture of farewell. A man, four years older, walked around the van. "Is this everything?" was asked as two duffle bags bursting at the seams with personal belongings Duo couldn't bear to leave behind were stowed beside Solo's meager possessions.
"Yeah, Hilde can go through the rest of my stuff and see what she can use." replayed as Duo recalled the Westover Apartments where unit 204 had been his home since running away from the church orphanage at age twelve.
With no strings attached Solo had shared his room, saved Duo from pangs of hungry, cold nights and endless days wandering through the city's unforgiving hell. After two years they were starting a new life. Six months later Solo getting caught in the crossfire of a drug war broke his promise to never leave Duo alone.
"Will history be repeated?" Duo wondered lowly.
Hearing the mumble question Heero query, "What?"
"Just thinkin' 'bout someone."
"Someone special?" was wondered as Heero realized he knew nothing of Duo's friends or enemies.
Refocusing misty eyes, Duo sighed, "The first person who made me believe I was worth something. You're the second person."
Once more, besieged by damnable doubt, Heero sought to ensure Duo's safety. "Are you absolutely certain about staying with me?"
"Never been surer about anything. Like I said before I ain't going nowhere."
"All right." was agreed, this time, without qualms. "Now if Fredrick gets his shit in gear we'll be one step closer to Nassau."
As if on cue a tall man, mid-thirties with broad shoulders, wavy brown hair and a noticeable limp, crossed the street. Heero rolled down the side window and snorted a curt greeting, "About time."
"Sorry for the delay." Fredrick Weisman apologized with a German-laden accent. "Been waiting long?"
"Long enough to get antsy."
"Doesn't take much." was commented from experience. Weisman leaned over to better see Duo. "So this is your friend?"
Duo's smile imparted a more civil salutation. "Hey."
Scanning the area yet again Heero frowned, "Can we get chummy inside?"
The German nodded in the Satan's Slaves' direction, "This way."
Driver and passenger doors opened then slammed hollowly. Displaying no-nonsense attitudes the trio of street-harden men strolled through the gang like a walk in the park.
*********
Best description for Fredrick's "base of operations" was organized confusion. Clothes, newspapers, Lucky Seven scratch-off lottery tickets and empty beer bottles "decorated" the single unmade bed. A well-traveled suitcase, contents in a jumble, spoke of his transient existence.
The chaos continued with tangles of cables snaking across the floor. In the same confused fashion a table was besieged by various tools for detailed work, a laptop computer, compact desktop printer/scanner and a specialized digital camera.
"Want beer?" Fredrick asked as he rummaged inside a mini refrigerator.
Heero glanced at Duo who nodded affirmatively. "Yeah."
A muted clink. Three bottles of Samuel Adams Lager were extracted with the slight-of-hand flourish of pulling a rabbit from a top hat.
The counterfeiter extraordinaire swallowed a long gulp of fermented brew then pushed aside enough tabletop clutter to set down his bottle, repositioned a metal chair and settled before the tools of his trade.
An activated power strip triggered an electronic flurry. Lights flashed. Servomotors purred. The laptop cast a bluish glow on Fredrick's face as he logged in a series of encrypted passwords. Perfect facsimiles of blank applications and specific passport pages, with sections for inserting information and a square box to border the photo, filled the screen.
Like a concert pianist preparing to perform an intricate concerto, the keyboard virtuoso flexed his fingers with theatrical flare. "Let's get down to business. Got a birth certificate?"
"Nope."
"Any valid form of ID? Social Security Number?"
"Nope and nope."
Fredrick shrugged. "No matter. I'll cook up some fucking credible credentials. "First, middle and last name?"
Beer in hand, Duo wiggled to get comfortable on the rumpled bedspread. "Made up my own name, Duo Maxwell", he informed, "but didn't think 'bout fillin' in the middle."
"What would you prefer?" Heero asked.
Moments passed while preferences were pondered. Several choices were muttered lowly to test sounds and syllables. Finally "Shawn" was said aloud. "Yeah, I like Shawn."
Surname "Maxwell" was entered on the appropriate line. Mouse realigned the cursor, "Duo" then "Shawn" was typed in subsequent spaces.
Over Fredrick's shoulder Heero studied the entries before pivoting to face his fellow fugitive. The smile flickering over his lips prompted Duo to wonder, "What?"
"I just realized until this moment I didn't know your full name."
Duo mulled over the noteworthy revelation. "That gives ya one up on me 'cause I still don't know ya last name."
Heero closed the gap to the braided Irishman and extended his hand. "Heero Yuy. Pleased to meet you."
*********
Forty-five minutes ticked by while Fredrick fabricated Duo's identity. Street address, city and zip code were concocted. A family history was also invented to further perpetuate the ruse. To finish the falsified documents Duo poised with a persuasive demeanor for his picture which was transferred from camera to computer and cropped to fit.
Fredrick took fifteen minutes to examine the birth certificate, an additional ten minutes to review each passport entry and inspect the expertly framed image. Document-grade paper was loaded into the printer. A cheeky Cheshire Cat grin in force he depressed "Enter".
Laser copier clicked and clacked. Birth certificate slid into the tray. Fredrick's notary seal embossed in the lower right corner made it authentic enough to pass at face value.
Smaller paper followed to produce passport pages which were affixed inside their official blue jacket. Lastly, a Social Security card established the newly cyber-birthed persona known as Duo Shawn Maxwell.
Duo studied his new, at least on paper, life with a mixture of awe and amazement. "This makes me legitimate?"
Obviously proud of his handiwork, Fredrick confirmed, "Yeah, act like you got nothing to hide and there'll no trouble with Customs."
Social Security card was slipped into Duo's wallet. Secure in a plain manila envelope, birth certificate and passport would be hidden away in his duffle.
Heero paid his German colleague both complimentary and, in cash, monetarily for the proficient forgery job. "Thanks. Watch your ass out there."
"Always." Fredrick assured with a cocky grin. "After all an ass is a terrible thing to waste."
After accepting heartfelt gratitude and a firm handshake from Duo, Fredrick surveyed the hall sporting water-blotched wallpaper, chipped floor tiles and a trail of dark burgundy discolorations that were most likely old bloodstains.
"Take care of yourselves." he wished both men an uneventful journey.
Heero reciprocated the goodwill. "Once we're settled in Nassau I'll insist you come for an extended visit."
*********
Seventy miles were traveled before stopping at the Junction South Travel Plaza for lunch.
Like freighter ships in an asphalt harbor, tractor-trailer trucks (aka 18 wheelers) were moored in extra long slips. Idling engines droned across the parking lot. Diesel fumes wafted on the warm noontime air.
Gears grinning and air brakes hissing, arriving and departing trucks navigated a horseshoe driveway around the combination fuel depot, diner and store. Passenger cars, vans, pickup trucks, SUVs and RVs huddled together in a segregated lot a safe distance from the restless leviathans.
Heero chose a spot easily observed through the diner's large plate glass windows. Inside they stopped in the toilet for a much needed pee and washing up. The hostess with overly bleached blond hair seated them a booth.
Their college student waitress in stonewashed jeans, a tee shirt bearing the slogan, "Junction South: Best Burgers and Coldest Beer" and "Mandy" printed on her nametag handed out menus.
"Today's special is honey ham and Cheddar cheese on a Keiser bun with a side of fries for $5.50." Mandy informed in a mono-tone voice that had repeated the special too many times. "What you want to drink?" was inquired with the same lethargic indifference.
"Large sweetened iced tea." Heero replied.
Duo nodded. "I'll have the same."
Mandy scribbled on an order pad then shuffled off to fetch the drinks.
Menus were perused in silence. Since parting company with Fredrick in Midville Duo's lack of chatter had been noted. Now the atypical quiet was becoming a source of concern.
For an unhindered view across the table Heero lowered his menu, "What's wrong? Don't say nothing 'cause I'll know you're lying."
Duo sighed, "Just been figuring things out. Ain't had much time to think since all hell broke loose." he answered honestly.
Despite Heero's maddening impulses to arrange his state of affairs in perfect order, to view every situation in black and white with no shades of gray to muddle the analysis or confuse the outcome, he'd learned one practical lesson from his carefree partner about going-with-the-flow.
As he also had a myriad of thoughts vying for proper placement in his methodical brain, "I'm here if you want to talk." was offered without any pressure for conversation.
Mandy delivered two clammy glasses filled with ice cubes swimming in tawny liquid and two paper-protected plastic straws. Scrawled handwriting recorded Heero's order of salad with Ranch dressing, baked chicken breast and green beans. Duo chose a turkey and Swiss sandwich with spicy mustard on whole wheat and fries.
Ten minutes later food was dispensed. Smidgens of dialogue mingled amongst chewing and slurping. Where to stop for the night was discussed. Miles verses the need to sleep was debated.
Drowning the fries in ketchup, Duo expressed regret over not having his license. "Wish I could share the driving."
Heero paused to scrutinize his partner's plate which bore an eerie likeness to a battlefield littered with bloody potato corpses. "Until we're more secure, I'd rather do the driving."
With a trace of disquiet resurfacing, Duo crinkled the edge of his paper napkin. "Would you teach me how to handle a gun?"
There it was-the inevitable request. For four years guns had been the ex-assassin's constant companions. Even more bizarre, a pistol shot had been his and Duo's violent introduction. As much as Heero wanted to shield his lover from every menace and hazard, the reality of being on the run couldn't be avoided. Duo deserved to be empowered to protect himself.
"When we're somewhere suitable I'll teach you to shoot."
To any other customer in the Junction South Travel Plaza the young men sharing a mundane meal in the burgundy booth by the window would likely go unnoticed. However, two males sitting outside in a black Range Rover were keenly interested, especially the pony-tailed Asian in surveillance mode watching through amber-tinted binoculars.
*********
Afternoon dwindled into early evening. Shadows stretched to mimic the landscape.
Duo had been a bit more talkative but the tête-à-tête, accompanied by twangy country music, didn't dwell on serious subjects. Instead his sporadic commentary rambled on about the rustic vistas of pristine creeks, green pastureland speckled with wild flowers and vintage barns, grazing cattle and horses lazily swishing their tails to shoo flies.
Throughout their trek along lesser traveled rural roads few vehicles were encountered. Now Heero was habitually checking the rearview mirror to monitor a motorcycle that had materialized behind the Escape. For ten miles the division remained constant. Twice he'd slowed down to encourage the bike to pass and each time the persistent stalker adjusted his speed to maintain the measured distance.
A black and white Border Collie dozing on a log cabin's porch prompted Duo to inquire, "Do you like dogs?" Realizing his partner's attention was focused elsewhere, "Hey! Earth to Heero." was teased with amplified volume.
Instincts on full alert, Heero's street-honed radar kicked into gear. "We're being tailed."
Duo dared a discreet look through the rear window. All he could see was the motorcycle's headlight and handlebars, the rider's torso encased in a red leather jacket, black helmet and a smoky gray face shield staring blankly back.
"Ya sure?"
"Yeah." was growled menacingly. "Let's see how good the bastard plays fox and geese."
The rules for fox and geese were simple. Wait until a remote location provided privacy. Stop suddenly, brandish the Glock then use the "talk or shoot" method of interrogation to ferret out the truth.
Alas the gambit strategy was abruptly altered when the Escape rounded a curve and blinding light flooded the windshield.
Parked side by side, a hard-top Jeep and Range Rover impeded further advancement. Forming a defense line, three men armed with assault rifles bolstered the blockade and the rude rider, revving the engine for dramatic effect, thwarted any opportunity for retreat.
Haloed by the backwash of headlights, a fourth man, pistol in hand, paced with predatory grace. His face didn't need to be discerned as fluid forward movements left no doubt regarding the Green Dragon Lieutenant's identity.
Blue eyes fixed in a resolute glare, Heero's fingers ghosted over the Glock holstered beside his seat before his hand settled atop Duo's hand in a wordless vow that no matter what happened they'd face the perils together.
Side window slid down eliminating the last tenuous barrier. Chang took up a precautionary position beyond the driver's limited reach and, fancying himself a cowboy gunslinger, rested a .357 Magnum against his hip.
For a fleeting moment Heero considered grabbing the Glock. If he'd been on his own he might have chanced the challenge, counting that his reaction time was faster, but he wasn't alone.
Chang tilted his head to scrutinize the AWOL apprentice and the braided man who was undoubtedly a bad influence, "So you did betray me for your whore." was stated crossly.
Responding to the less-than-flattering remark, Duo aimed his own fierce glower, illustrated his insolence with a middle finger salute and mouthed, "Fuck you."
A sneer tugged at Chang's lips. For now, anyway, he'd opt to ignore the disrespectful gesture. "You've caused a lot of inconvenience, Yuy. What should I do about that?"
"I don't give a damn about your problems." Heero declared fearlessly. "Find someone else to be your hunting dog."
Not wanting to waste a value asset, Chang offered an alternative to immediate termination. "How about a compromise? Come back and I'll let you keep your whore or," the Magnum twitched, "a bullet in the brain and I take the pretty boy for myself."
In the dwindling seconds allowed for an answer, Heero ran strategies in his mind, deliberated risk factors; studied every angle, every conclusion.
As twilight's purple gloom accentuated his and Duo's dire prospects for survival, options were reevaluated. Plowing through the vehicular barricade wasn't feasible. Shifting into reverse and ramming the motorcycle was a viable alternative, however, if the bike became wedged beneath the Escape their probability of beating the odds would drop to zero.
Impatient time ticking away, Heero struggled to salvage what appeared to be a hopeless situation. Amid the onset of panic for his failure to safeguard Duo, Odin Lowe's advice, imparted after too many Jose Cuervo Tequila shots, fluttered around his brain like an inebriated moth. "Don't fret about the closed door when you should be looking for the door that's open."
*Can't go forward or backward.* was mentally figured.
Scanning the landscape he noted an overgrown embankment. In an effortless inconspicuous motion his hand slipped from Duo's hand and fingers encircled the stick shift.
"Hold on." was the hissed warning before gears engaged and the steering wheel jerked to the left. With a jolt that made Duo thankful he was secured by his seatbelt, the Escape scaled the earthen mound and skipped into twin furrowed tracks.
The trio of dumbfounded lackeys gawked.
Also momentarily caught off guard Chang recovering his wits then sprinted for the Rover. Sliding into the driver's seat, "MOVE OUT!" was ordered.
One man joined Chang. The remaining twosome scrambled for the Jeep. The rider slapped down his face shield and, with a spray of grit and gravel, bounced over the rocky knoll.
Lighter and more maneuverable, the motorcycle quickly closed the gap. Yet again a single light reflected in the rearview mirror. Heero floored the gas pedal. The tachometer's gauge quivered in the red zone.
Skeletal stalks of fox grass crinkled under the Escape's tires. Thorny brambles grazed the sides. Although headlights cut a passable swath, tangled vegetation deflected most of the beam.
It suddenly occurred to Heero the elevated lane might eventually dissolve into the forest or be swallowed up by a night-shrouded chasm. In either case the term "Dead End" would apply to both driver and passenger.
These unknown factors plus plumes of expelled dust and the motorcycle's intensifying thunderous throbbing offered few choices. Heero studied the way ahead then the parallel road below, calculated the cross distance, made a gut decision, hoped for the best and anticipated the worse.
To the bi-wheeled purser's surprise the Escape skidded right, threaded the needle between a pair of white pines, launched off the knoll, sailed over the Jeep and Rover below and rebounded off the opposite bank with a bone-jarring thud.
Utterly focused on the chase, the motorcyclist copied the aerial route. Only after the bike was airborne did the ride realize his error in judgment then learned a brutal lesson in aerodynamics as man and machine flew squarely into a cluster of massive oaks. Acute snapping of tree limbs, clamorous crunches of metal and a ball of fire attested to the lethal conclusion to the rider's ill-fated flight.
Meanwhile dangerous acceleration levels were woefully inadequate to expand the separation gap between the Escape and the vehicles transporting Chang and his doggedly determined henchmen.
Rifle fire flared in the darkness.
PING! A taillight shattered.
Even though speed and erratic weaving over irregular terrain were prime factors for the shooter missing his target, sooner rather than later luck would run out and the Escape would take a direct hit.
Exasperation reaching the boiling point, Heero growled angrily, "Hand me the Glock."
"How can you manage to drive and shoot?" Duo wondered as all of his partner's dexterous multi-tasking skills were already being put to the test.
"Just give me the gun."
Heero chanced taking one hand off the steering wheel so the Glock could be slapped in his sweaty palm. Brake and clutch were applied in unison. The Escape fishtailed, momentum rotating it crossways until the driver's side faced the rapidly approaching Range Rover and Jeep.
Estimating variances to keep Duo out of harm's way, he aimed thought the still lowered side window. The din of whining engines and whistling wind muted his conclusive declaration.
"I've had enough of this damn bullshit!"
Whether the triple volley merely wounded Chang Wufei or dispatched him to the Grim Reaper, Heero knew his goal had been achieved when the Rover's windshield erupted into a confusion of spider web cracks and jagged lines.
Lurching fitfully, the Rover clipped a limestone outcrop and skittered sideways. Frame warped and bowed windows hurling splinted shards of glassy shrapnel, it flipped twice before coming to rest with tires spinning towards the stars.
In less than a heartbeat the unstoppable Jeep plowed into the inverted mass of mangled metal. Friction generated blue-white starbursts. Sparks lapped hungrily at leaking gas.
WHOOSH
Superheated air belched out an engulfing fireball to transform the fusion of twisted steel into a crude crematorium.
Heero steered clear of the carnage then, fortitude forsaken, collapsed against his seat. Glock slithering from lax fingers, it didn't matter if wind-whipped smoke irritated his eyes or the stench of hot metal rankled in his nose, all he cared about was he and Duo could finally stop running.
As red-orange flames clawed at the night to conjecture up visions of Dante's Inferno, Duo sucked in a shaky breath. "Holy fuckin' hell."
Heero released his seatbelt, reached across to free Duo from his woven restraint then clung to his lover like the world would end if their embrace was severed. "I was scared." was admitted for his sake, "Duo, I was scared."
"We're all right." Duo reassured. "And pity the fools who messes with us."
TBC...
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