“But, George, you said that the only way this was going to end was with me being delivered to Tampa.”
“I misspoke.”
“Well, you can’t give up yet. I’m not ready for this to be over. I was bored out of my mind for those two hours in a cage, so you owe me at least two hours of entertainment. You know what I should do? I should murder somebody.”
He leapt off the roof and onto the street, human now. He turned to look at them, then put a finger to his lips and said “Shhhh. Don’t tell.”
Then he began to stroll down the sidewalk. Didn’t even jog. Didn’t look back to see what they were doing.
“I hate that son of a bitch,” said George. “I hate him more than I’ve ever hated another person. Look at that goddamn swagger.”
“Shouldn’t you be less pissed and more grateful to be alive?” Lou asked.
“I will never stop being pissed. He has now created a ‘lifetime of seeking vengeance’ scenario.”
Ivan stopped at a small brown home. An affordable, practical car was in the driveway, and the front yard was littered with toys. Ivan shrugged--an exaggerated shrug, obviously meant for them to see--and then walked up to the front door.
George’s stomach sunk. “Aw, crap. He’s really going to do something.” He hurriedly got out of the van.
“You’re going after him?” Lou asked.
“Of course I’m going after him! Be ready to drive away fast. If you hear sirens, get out of here and don’t worry about me. If I don’t come out in a few minutes...I don’t know, you work it out.”
George ran toward the house as Ivan opened the front door and stepped inside.
CHAPTER NINE
Home Invasion
George had always been prone to extreme perspiration, but he couldn’t remember ever having been this drenched in sweat. He felt hot and sticky and miserable, he reeked of gasoline, and lots of glass chunks were still stuck to his clothes. The dog bite on his chest stung, and his wrist hurt even worse, and overall this had been one spectacularly crappy day.
He didn’t anticipate that it was going to get better in the next few minutes. Revenge or not, he most definitely was not looking forward to going after Ivan without even the safety of being in the van. But he’d be forever haunted if Ivan killed the little kid who owned those toys because of his mistake.
And he did have his gun. Not that bullets had done any good thus far, but it still felt slightly reassuring to have a weapon, even a useless one.
Ivan had left the front door ajar. George pulled it open and stepped inside. The house was messy but not dirty. More toys, mostly action figures, were all over the floor, and a television in the living room blared one of those daytime courtroom shows that George hated in concept but that were surprisingly addictive. The place smelled like air freshener.
A muffled scream.
Gun raised, George ran through the dining room into the kitchen. Ivan had his arm around a blonde in her early thirties, his hand over her mouth and Lou’s pistol pressed against the side of her head. Ivan remained fully human, and looked amused by her efforts to struggle.
“Hey, George, look what I caught!” he said with a smile.
George pointed the gun at him. “Let her go.”
“Sorry, doesn’t scare me at all.” Ivan pulled Lou’s gun away from the woman’s head, removed his hand from her mouth, then bashed her against the counter, hard. He yanked her back to a standing position and put the gun to her head again. “Stop squirming,” he told her.
She let out a sob. “Don’t hurt me...”
“Stop squirming or I’ll smash you against the counter until I break out every tooth in your head.”
“C’mon, Ivan, let her go.” George tried to keep his voice calm and polite, like a hostage negotiator. “She had nothing to do with this.”
“Well, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Innocent people harmed? Collateral damage?” He backed up a few steps, toward the refrigerator and another counter, dragging the woman with him. “I hate guns. Guns are for thugs and cowards.” He tossed the gun onto the counter, slid a butcher knife out of a wooden rack, and immediately pressed it against the woman’s throat. “Oh, yeah. Much better.”
“The cops are on their way,” George said.
“Excellent. Maybe I’ll kill her and let them find you here with her corpse.”
“So what do I need to do to get you to let her go? Just tell me.”
“Hmmmmmm.” Ivan pretended to consider that. “I’m not sure. This is an interesting new side of you, George. All concerned about innocent women and stuff. If I had time I could probably come up with something, but at the moment, nah, nothing springs to mind. I think I’m going to kill her.”
The woman’s entire body shook as she sobbed.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Diane.”
“Diane, huh? I don’t see a ring on your finger, Diane. Are you married?”
“No.”
“Kids, though, right? How many?”
“Two.”
“How old are they?” She didn’t answer, so Ivan pressed the blade harder against her neck. “How old are they?” he repeated, almost growling the words.
“Five and seven.”
“What are their names?”
George stepped forward. “Ivan, don’t--”
“You need to stay exactly where you are and keep your mouth shut!” Ivan lowered his voice and took on a soothing tone as he spoke to Diane. “Ignore the rude man who interrupted our conversation. What are the names of your children?”
“Robin and Gabriel.”
“Robin. Girl or boy?”
“Boy.”
“Two boys, huh? I bet they’re a handful. Where are they now?”
“School.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s Wednesday, so that makes sense. Silly question. It must be a challenge to raise two young boys on your own. You’re not a welfare mother, are you?”
“No.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“Please...”
“Diane, answer my question. Why aren’t you at work?”
“I have the day off.”
“Okay, fair answer. You figured you’d get in some alone time, run a few errands, clean up the house, and take a mental health day, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Things would sure be tough for Robin and Gabriel if they didn’t have a mother, wouldn’t they? I bet they’d cry their little eyes out. I hope you have relatives who would take them in, or else the poor kids may end up bouncing from one foster home to the next. They can’t always keep orphaned siblings together, you know. Oh, they try, they give it their best, but there’s only so much you can do.”
George felt like he was going to vomit. What the hell was he supposed to do? Rush him? Try to shoot him in the face? It was absolutely killing him to stand there helplessly, but what else could he do?
“Hey, George, I’ll make you a deal. You throw that gun over here, toss it into the sink, and I’ll let her go. I won’t even slice off an ear. Maybe I’ll slice off part of an ear, but not the full ear, I promise.”
“No way.”
“Okay, okay, I won’t cut off anything. No mutilation. You won’t get that offer again, and you’ve got five seconds to decide.”
George put on the safety, then tossed the gun across the kitchen into the sink. Bullets didn’t seem to hurt Ivan anyway, so it wasn’t as if he was worse off.
“Nice toss,” said Ivan. “Just for the record, I wasn’t worried about getting shot, but I don’t want you squandering bullets and attracting the cops while we’re having sooooo much fun.”
“I said, the cops are already on their way.”
“And I believe you’re fibbing. I at least know that you didn’t call them. Hey, George, do you know who else in this room likes to lie? I’ll give you a clue. It’s not the woman.”
Oh God...
“That’s right. Well, Diane, it’s been lovely chatting with you, but now I need to create a couple of orphans.”
He slowly slid the blade across her throat. Diane’s eyes widened, her legs buckled, and Ivan let her fall to the floor, clutching at her neck and making horrible choking sounds.