(My Latest Yelp Review Morphs Into a Cyber Punk Serial)
Continued from HERE Goddamit!
We marched the across lawn the lawn, then the parking lot, Steph and Max keeping their heads low. Me? I was just a rolling target covered in a sheet. As we approached a black van which was our getaway vehicle someone stepped out from behind it leveling a mean-looking Glock at our various centers of gravity.
“I can’t let you take him.” He was worried as hell. ”They will kill my sons. Then make borscht out of me. You must give him back to me.”
We slowed to a halt.
“We understand, Jacek.” Steph was being very sincere but was also determined on getting me into the van.
“How…. how you know my name?” Jacek looked from Steph to Max, then stepped forward and peered under the sheet covering me.
“Hey, buddy. You okay. These guys making trouble for you?”
I mumbled “Hello!” as best I could. Stress was setting my recovery back. It came out somewhere between a croak and bark.
He nodded, then addressed Steph.
“Sorry, I tasered you. Was necessary at the time.”
“Understood. Look, Jacek… we haven’t time to explain. But we’re working on setting your sons free and getting them out of the country. Max has major contacts in Moscow. And in Eastern Europe. We’re on it.”
Jacek looked perplexed staring at the two morgue techs and patting my head.
Max nodded. “But we have to go, Jacek. Like right this minute.”
He pondered for a minute, keeping the gun on us. A very tense moment- a Moldavian, stand-off as it were.
Then the real shooting began. Whether the guards Max had subdued had come to, or other Security personnel had been summoned by someone, made little difference. We ran behind the van, bullets flying, leaving Jacek staring, very dumbfounded.
They were loading me in the van as shots pinged and slugged into the van and every which way.
“Whee”, I thought.
Jacek was trying to figure out whose side he was on.
“Jacek. Come on. Now! We will explain everything to you.” Steph was climbing into the back seat, Max already at the wheel cranking the engine into a roar.
When Jacek went down, an expression of amazement on his face.
“Shit,” Steph screamed. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Max had turned the van into a tight curve, shielding Jacek from any further injury. Steph reached out of the doors and grabbed Jacek by his pants yanking him inside the van.
“Got him. Let’s go.”
We shot out of the parking lot, Max glancing in his rear view mirror. He drove to where they had cut the fence earlier and on through.
And out we went drove out into the night.
Mary Gregory thought she had better shower; it wasn’t worth going to bed now. She felt like shit but something kept driving her on; the morgue attendants gone missing, the falsely filed autopsy report, one corpse absconded with. And that asshole, Dr. Avery Clarke III.
As she climbed into bath stall and turned the water she realized she was still smoking.
“Fuck it.” And she had her shower with a cigarette in her mouth. Which somehow stayed lit.
She got out to see that there were like a zillion phone messages and equal number of frantic texts.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
She’d get to them. But first? A few Bloody Mary’s and a stop at her dealer’s. She drove recklessly to his apartment in Venice. And who she had to wake up which she did by pounding on his door repeatedly.
Her dealer, Ramon, flung open the door, wanting to give some junky “what’s for”. But he saw it was her. Detective Mary Whatsername. The cop who had so much on him. So much. She had managed to keep his Case Files- which were like extensive- out of the system. And give him relative freedom.
So he let her in, checking up and down the street as he did so.
Mary was terse.
“Fix me up. I’m on a big case.”
He knew better than argue with her, and Detective Mary Gregory left with a couple ounces of coke and a baggy full of Oxycontin. Or maybe it was Fentanyl. Who cared?
“I’ll pay you later,” she said as flew out the door.
He didn’t have time to protest. The fucking nerve of this woman!
Downstairs, Mary got into police sedan, packed her nose with a gobbet of toot, and headed for work, ready for the day ahead.
It would be a long day, full of compounding mysteries and vexations. But that was just how it went.
Dr. Avery Clarke, III had the two Ukrainian nurses straddled on his desk, naked and terrified, but… he couldn’t concentrate.
There had to be a way to find Steph. He wanted ever so much to bring her into submission, to find out what was going on.
Where had she gone? Why was she pursuing that loathsome cadaver? How did her ministrations on him play into what she was doing? And where she had gone?
The phone rang and he answered it very distractedly.
A nurse on the other line informed him that his current patient was prepped and ready in Operating Room 6.
“My what?” he asked.
“Um, your patient?”
He thought for a minute.
“Yes. Keep him there. I need a minute.”
The nurse asked, with much restraint, if the Doctor remembered that the patient needed a new liver, which was standing by and ready to implant. That it was a matter of some… urgency?
“Oh, okay. Jesus. I’m coming.”
He zipped up his pants and slid into his lab coat when the lab coat when the phone rang again. He grabbed the receiver and shouted,
“I said I’m on my way, Goddammit.”
The Ukranian nurses looked at each other, puzzled… but very grateful.
He started to zip his pants muttering furiously when the phone rang again.
“I told you I’m on my way!” Dr. Avery Clarke, III screamed into phone.
“Doctor? It’s Doctor Dierdre Allison McCaffrey, Chief Medical Examiner, from the Re-Animation Clinic. The Re-Animator needs to talk with. Be here after your surgery.”
She hung up and Dr. Avery Clarke, III stared at the phone for a minute, then walked out of his office in a daze.
Ivana stared at Ruscha.
“Wow. We dodged another bullet, don’t you think?”
Ruscha nodded yes, and began to get dressed, as did Ivana.
“Let’s go to Jack in the Box to celebrate.” And they, too, left the office.