Kill em Again

Kill Em Again

by Andrew Evich

Copyright 2012 Andrew Evich

Smashwords Edition

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SEATTLE TIMES, October 10th:

SEATTLE MILLIONAIRE CONTRACTOR SENTENCED

Yesterday, October 9th, Steve Crocker, millionaire Seattle contractor and land developer, was sentenced in federal court to thirty years in prison for drug sales and other unrelated crimes.

Judge Elias Brock said, This is the worst case of abuse of power and position I have dealt with during my twenty-five years on the bench. Not only did Mr. Crocker deceive those that know and trust him by selling large quantities of powder cocaine, but he further shamed himself and family when he possessed and sold child pornography, a most heinous crime considering he is a father of an eleven year old son. Therefore, I have no choice but to sentence him to not less than thirty years in federal prison, the maximum allowed under current law. To protect his son from potential abuse, I will continue custody of his son Jamie Crocker to the boy’s uncle, Mark West.

The judge continued, Mr. Crocker, if I weren't bound by law to apply the maximum sentence, I would surely double your sentence to sixty years so that you would never been seen out of prison again in your lifetime.

Those who have followed the case know Mr. Crocker was found guilty by a jury in May, after a long and extensive trial. Originally arrested last December for possessing cocaine discovered in one of his industrial area Seattle warehouses, U.S. Marshalls later requested his bail be revoked when they raided his home and confiscated two computers with many images of child pornography kept in encrypted files. At a hearing in January, Judge Brock remanded custody of Mr. Crocker’s son Jamie, to his uncle Mark West, also a Seattle contractor and developer. Crocker’s wife, the late Lorraine Crocker nee West, died early last year of cancer.

Displaying no remorse, at sentencing, Crocker lunged toward the judge and shouted, I am innocent, you bastards have made a grave mistake here. I will be back, and all of you will be sorry. Mr. Crocker was escorted from the courtroom in chains, by U.S. Marshalls, and will remain in the federal detention center until transfer to a permanent location.

* * *

Chapter One

The Huey gunship roared at ground level to the coastal range of densely forested hills, slid up one side and down the other, slick as could be, at an altitude of fifty feet and a speed of one hundred and ninety miles per hour. Beating blades and rotors scattered any wildlife below. The jungle camouflage had never been totally replaced, but updated and repainted in blues and greens, a style that blended as well with the Oregon evergreens as it had in the jungles of Southeast Asia.

How you doin back there brother? Zack said into the headset as the chopper eased down closer to the lush green fields of seed grass below, the tail rotor damn near slicing off the tops of the plants.

Alright my man, Doddie said from his perch, strapped in a harness and standing behind the fifty caliber machine gun in the open doorway of the bird. He wore black, fingerless, calf-skin gloves.

Doddie stretched his massive arms over his head to relieve the stress of gripping the weapons handles. He nearly had to hunch his back to accommodate his height in the rear of the chopper. He never left his post, kept vigilant and attached to his weapon even in these peaceful environs.

Well we got about five minutes till target, so loosen up and get ready, Zack said. He stripped off the headset and the Oakland Raiders cap beneath, ran a hand through his shoulder length gray hair, and put the hat and headset back on. The fields in front of him looked brown through the wire-frame Ray Bans. They cut the glare of the early morning sun to a minimum, and he would need precision visibility when they came to the target.

Hey Zach-man, Doddie said, tell me again how I can’t kill anyone this time. He scratched his salt and pepper butch-cut hair and laughed.

I repeat, Zach said, no casualties this run. You can’t even kill em once, much less two times, so lighten up and concentrate on blowing shit up without collateral damage, okay?

Roger that big chief, Doddie said.

Zach saw the rise, and the prison through the windshield, And I have a visual, sixty seconds or so to arrival. I’ll put you right on the target. It's a might easier here where they don't run in all directions at once.

A double roger-dodger to that, Doddie said, cocked the big weapon and gripped the handles with a finger lightly near the trigger.

High chain link fences topped with razor wire surrounded the medium security prison. Roving patrols in pickup trucks armed with a Glock 9 mm sidearm and a twelve gauge shotgun, drove routinely around the perimeter. The Feds excavated a fifty foot high hill beside the prison exercise yard, accessed by road from either end. When inmates were in the yard a white pickup truck sat at the top, the guard armed with a 9 mm pistol, a 12 gauge shotgun with double ought buckshot, and a .308 semi-auto rifle. Well armed, but no match for the big fifty in the Huey. Doddie had seen men wet themselves when they heard the fifty caliber fire and spray an area with hot lead.

Zach approached the hill at a steady one-ninety, pulled back at a hundred yards, and the chopper reared up, feathered perfectly and stopped beside the truck. Zach leveled out and eased around in a half-circle until the open doorway with Doddie manning the weapon came even with the pickup. Doddie hit the trigger on single-fire, the slug tore through the rear of the truck bed, and the guard flung open the door, dove out, crawled to the edge of the hill and rolled down towards the bottom. Doddie pulled the trigger four more times and placed slugs into the engine compartment, the cab, and the gas tank. The truck leaped up from the ground and landed in flames as the gas tank exploded. The tires quickly began to melt from the heat of the pooling gasoline.

Okie dokie, Doddie said. Mr. ‘No-collateral damage’ is safely at the bottom of the hill, and his ride is toast. I think his sidearm rolled with him though.

Keep an eye on him, even though we’ll be out of pistol range. We’ll be moving on then, Zach said and sent the bird over the center of the softball field where a lone man stood and waved his arms. I see the boss-man. Make ready to take him aboard.

I’m all big arms and happy teeth, Doddie said.

Don’t kiss him for Christ’s sake.

The prison yard was almost deserted at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning. Under the metal roof shelter a few men pumped iron. Most of the cons were either in bed or getting ready for a weekend visit from family or friends. The Christian crowd went to church later. The chopper dropped straight down and stopped a foot above the ground, the man leaped forward into the waiting arms of Doddie, and he hauled him on board.

Got him, Doddie said. Let’s get the hell out of here before they circle up the wagons. He could see another white pickup coming fast around the perimeter fence, about five hundred yards away.

The engine roared and the big blades bit into the air yanking the bird forward and up. Zach turned and headed back over the smoking truck and accelerated to two hundred, due west towards the hills in the distance.

Doddie handed Steve a set of headphones, he slipped them on and plugged them into the console.

Hey big guy, what’s shakin, he said.

Hey to you boss-man, Zach said. Were we on time?

On time and on a dime, Steve said. I thought our last rescue would be in nineteen seventy-one, but I was wrong again.

Not the first time Boss, Doddie said laughing. But at least this time we didn’t have to dodge bullets to get out. Doddie suddenly looked down towards the bottom of the door and screamed. Holy shit, we got us a fucking Gook coming on board. Look out for grenades.

He leaped to the doorway and began stomping on the brown hands that had appeared, fingertips gripped to the edge of the door. Each time he stomped the hand let go and got out of the way, then gripped again when Doddie went for the other hand.

Steve jumped forward, grabbed the big man by the shoulders and unsuccessfully tried to turn him away from the door.

Stop it Doddie, Steve said, you’re having a flashback. It’s a Chinaman, not a Gook. Jesus Christ, can’t you tell the difference.

Doddie stopped, stepped back and bent at the waist to stare at the man hanging on for dear life with white knuckled fingers to the door edge, while his legs whipped away in the two hundred mile an hour air stream.

Help, he managed to shout. His fingers slid dangerously towards the edge.

Steve pushed Doddie out of the way with his shoulder, dropped to his knees and grabbed the mans wrists, leaned backward and pulled him up into the cabin, where he rolled over from his knees to his back and sighed. He began to talk, Steve motioned with his hand to wait, and Doddie handed him another set of phones, plugged them in, and Steve passed them to the man on the deck.

He put them on and said, Anyone call for Chinese take out?

Who the fuck are you? Doddie said.

What’s going on back there guys, Zach said. I’m in the dark up here.

We got a goddamn Chinese stowaway here Zach, Doddie said.

What do you have against the Chinese? the man said. We own most of the world, and we make damn good noodles. Better than the Italians.

Too goddamn much MSG, Doddie said.

Chin, what the hell are you doing here? Steve said.

Chin rolled onto his knees and stood at ease in front of Steve.

Lookie here Crocker, you sneaking son of a bitch, Chin said, I followed you out into the yard this morning because you never go to yard this early on a Sunday morning. You’re the guy who goes to breakfast and comes back to sleep it off until lunch. ‘So what the fuck,’ I say to myself, ‘is this guy doing going to yard‘. I seen the light when this big bird comes, blows up the watcher on the hill, and when you jumped inside, I was already running as fast as I could to catch up in time to grab a skid and dangle as the chopper jockey shot out of there. Nearly flew off then, but only the true strength of a practicing Buddhist carried me through.

You haven’t been a Buddhist ever, Steve said. Last I heard you were studying to be a Muslim.

Well yeah, Chin said, but the brothers were suspicious of me all the time so I decided to get traditional.

Doddie, meet Chin, Steve said.

Doddie tentatively shook Chin’s hand. First time I ever touched a Gook that wasn’t dead, Doddie said while wiping his hand on his pants.

The pleasure is all mine, Chin said, even though you tried to leave me somewhere in the grass fields.

Hell I didn’t know, Doddie half-apologized. Last major mission I flew we were trained to knock off anyone who grabbed the bird at take-off. You’re lucky I didn’t have a handgun or you’re be fertilizer.

Yes, Chin said. I’m lucky all right.

So who is this guy, Zach said. And tell me quick because we’re coming onto the hills and we’ll be at our destination and rendezvous in five minutes or so.

Chin was the only cellie I had that wasn’t scared to death of me, Steve said, or secretly plotting to murder me in my sleep.

After you pissed off everyone in the unit, Chin said, it’s a wonder even I would live with you.

What’s that mean, Doddie said.

Ain’t got time for bullshitting neighbors, Zach said. You all need to get ready for the drop.

I don’t like the sound of that, Chin said. Drop. I just avoided a drop. What is the drop?

Here, put this on, Doddie said and handed Chin an inflatable vest and a crash helmet.

Why would I want to put these on? Chin said.

God you ask a lot of questions for a guy getting a free ride from the custody of the federal government, Steve said, slipped into a vest and attached the Velcro fasteners across the front and down through his crotch. Look, he said, I’ve got to take off the phones to put on the helmet, so I want to thank you guys for the rescue. I owe you again.

Just keep paying the bills boss, Zach said.

No problem there, Steve said, removed the headset and put on the helmet.

Chin, watching Steve going through the motions, reluctantly followed suit and donned the vest and helmet. Doddie, OCD efficient, took their phones, unplugged them and stowed them in a bin on the cockpit bulkhead.

The chopper zoomed out over the Pacific Ocean about two miles, and feathered to a stop twenty feet above the rolling waves.

Everyone out, Zach said to Doddie.

Doddie gave Steve the thumbs-up sign and put him into a bear hug. Steve broke away with a grin and jumped out through the door towards the blue water below.

I can’t swim, I can’t swim, Chin shouted over the roar of the engine and thud of the blades. Doddie picked him up by the shoulders and flung him out the door.

All clear boss, Doddie said.

All right, Zach said. Heading south and we abandon ship in one minute. You ready?

Ruff and ready, Doddie said, removed his headphone and tossed them onto the deck, then slid into a vest and helmet.

One minute later the chopper plunged into the ocean a few miles south of their previous position.

* * *

I can’t swim, Chin shouted as he hit the water.

Steve swam to his side and waited for him to pop up when the automatic inflator went off in his vest. Chin rose quickly beside him, sputtering and blowing out water.

Keep your mouth closed dummy, Steve said.

Yeah, easy for you to say white boy, Chin said coughing and spitting. So now what do we do?

Look over your right shoulder, Steve said, pulled off the helmet and let it sink.

Chin spun around using his hands and saw the big white sail with a blue boat beneath, bearing their way.

Whose the boat? he said.

Mine, Steve said, and his face grew sad. I haven’t been aboard since Jamie and I went up into the San Juan Islands last summer.

You miss the kid ay, Chin said.

That’s an understatement, Steve said. But I’m going to get him back and fix this madness I’ve gotten myself into. The boat will be here in ten minutes, so take off your clothes and let’s relax and enjoy the swim.

Take off my clothes, Chin said and raised both his eyebrows.

Sure, Steve said. He pulled the straps loose on the vest and removed his shoes, pants and shirt. I want to make love to you before company comes.

No way, Chin said.

Take em off baby, Steve said laughing. "I want the clothes to turn up when they search for us. We’ll put on fresh duds on the boat.

Okay, Chin said and removed the helmet, his clothing and shoes. Say cellie? Chin said.

Yep, Steve said.

Chin‘s face wrinkled in worry, Any sharks out here?

Yeah, but they like big worms, so you got nothing to worry about.

* * *

Chapter Two

The green wool army blanket in the backseat of the altered ‘76’ Cadillac Seville smelled musty, the kind of musty that reminded him of the nest he’d made for himself when he was eight years old, in the far back corner of the dirt underneath the neighbors garage. He kept the bones of small animals there to stir his mind to relive the fantasy of those special times he killed them, dismembered and skinned them, and left their bones to dry in the sun for keepsakes. His daddy told him he could not make them into necklaces to wear with pride. That other kids and adults wouldn’t understand the nature and symbolism of the bones, whatever nature and symbolism meant. He thought it meant the wild beasts in the woods and things like that, but the way Daddy said it, maybe it meant something secret or nasty.

I’m ten years old now, he mused, and almost eleven. No eight year old baby anymore. Daddy says the hair growing around my penis means I’m maturing earlier than my peers. I’m taller than anyone in my class, even the girls, and now tonight, I’m going to become part of the things the men do at my daddy’s cabin in the woods over the mountains.

He dozed beneath the blanket, the material providing security more than warmth, because the temperature stayed around seventy in the summer, even at night on this side of the mountains. The boy came wide awake and alert as the car pitched and yawed along the final quarter mile of the dirt road leading to the cabin, but the car wouldn’t become stuck because Daddy had the body jacked up over the frame, and four wheel drive installed. He said it had been terribly expensive for a car he only used when they went to the cabin, and he kept it locked in a rented garage away from the house so Mom wouldn’t ask questions. Daddy stopped the car in front of the cabin, turned off the engine and lights. The darkness surrounded them cloaking the world outside, and as their eyes became accustomed to it, shapes came barely into view, gray apparitions in scant moonlight.

It’s time to wake up boy, he said to his son.

The boy stirred and sat up, opened the rear door and stepped out into the darkness, a blackness so deep nothing could penetrate it, not even the single bulb glaring from the fixture over the front door of the cabin. He closed the door and began to walk towards the porch.

Not there, his dad said, we have to go to the shed out back. I’ve got a flashlight so follow close to me. There are roots, I don't want you to stumble and fall.

He shined the light down toward the pathway. They passed shapes of other vehicles parked beside the cabin, four wheel drive pickups, then they entered the door of the shed. It had originally been built as a large woodshed, with a tall roof so you could swing an axe to split firewood, but no wood was stored here now. Five wooden, slat-backed chairs were lined along one wall. In the center of the room, a low wooden table, eighteen inches off the floor, the top smooth as glass, seven feet long and four feet wide. Black candles as large as a liter of Coke burned in black wrought iron holders. Twenty candles, the holders standing three feet from the floor in a circle around the wooden table. Four men, their shapes quivering in the flickering candlelight, sat naked on four of the chairs. Fat guy, hairy guy, skinny smooth man, real old guy, all different. The boy’s father immediately began to shed his clothing and pile it under the empty chair.

Take off all your clothes, he said, as he had many times in the past, ever since his eighth birthday. Tonight you will join the group as a man, and we will bring in another chair for you. This is a great honor.

His father finished stripping and sat on the chair watching the boy remove his clothing. He felt different than the times before, when they played with his penis and butt hole, made him feel ever so good inside his body, and tickled spots in his mind he didn’t know he possessed. They gave him sweet stuff to drink that made him feel warm inside. He carefully folded his clothing and placed it beneath the table, his penis instantly erect did not embarrass him because he had done this many times before. One man licked his lips as if hungry.

Now stand upon the sacred altar, the man with the beard to his chest and a stubby penis with a hood said to him.

He climbed onto the table and stood.

Face us, the bald fat man with the diamond earring winking from his left ear said.

He turned to face them.

Say the sacred oath, his father said.

It came easily, the practiced words he learned during the last week, the oath printed in his father’s careful handwriting on a 3x5 index card.

I pledge all my self, my mind, my soul, my body, to the darkest arts. I will complete the rituals during the sacred times denoted by beloved Satan and his followers, make the living sacrifices, drink the blood of my victims, and commit necessary sacrilege upon their human forms. No man or woman outside this group must know of my commitment to the Devil, and death shall befall anyone who interferes.

He felt something stir in the room, like a warm wind blowing through the area, the candle flames leaned with it and nearly went out, then all became still and the men rose from their chairs as one, walked to the table and stood, two on each side of him and his father at the head.

Lie down, his father said, with your head facing my end of the altar.

The boy complied, he felt as if his whole body laughed, nerve endings alive, the tingling ecstasy brought the knowledge that something extraordinary would now occur to him, it rose from his core, deeply cellular, and left him on the verge of mental orgasm, that feeling he knew well where his mind locked up and his body surged with excitement from his testicles, up his spine, and into the top of his brain. He'd waited a long time for this event.

Blindfold him, then apply the salve, his father said.

The man with the pointy goatee placed a black day-shade over his eyes and tied it at the back of his head. He opened an onyx jar the size of a cold cream jar his mother kept on her dresser, dipped a hand encased in a doctors rubber glove into the brown cream inside, and rubbed it into the boy's chest, down over his stomach to just above his penis. He continued to rub it until it was fully absorbed into the boy’s tingling skin, then the tingling grew warm, and soon all the skin on his chest and belly became numb.

His heart slowed, he began to sweat, rivers of water running out of his armpits and down his sides. His stomach suddenly lurched and he turned his head to the side and vomited, his pupils dilated, skin turned a bright red, he felt so weak he could not even open his eyes. His intestines knotted and liquid waste flowed from his anus, he urinated freely. As his conscious mind drifted away, and just before he felt himself tear loose from his body and fly into the sky, he heard one