Chapter 3: James
Chapter 3
James
James heard the crash from within the hotel as he dressed for the day. His slacks, shirt, and tie were already on, perfectly pressed without a single crease. He reached for the dark blue blazer that hung on the back of the chair when the unmistakable sound of metal colliding with metal diverted his attention towards the closed window. He casually slipped the blazer on as he headed towards the window.
“That's not good,” he muttered to himself as he peeked between the curtains towards the scene of the crash. This would be the first day of his latest job, and incidents like a random car crash, even though it had nothing to do with him, usually indicated a bad omen of how the rest of the job was going to go. James was a professional, but he also tended to be superstitious.
James quickly left the room to get his partner, Mac, in his room a couple doors down, but the young man was already exiting. It never ceased to amaze James how young the kid looked. He had been a teenager when they met, a mousy bookworm and computer nerd with no social skills. Now in his mid twenties, he truly shone as an adult. Not just in his height or stubble, but in stature. He walked tall and proud, exuding confidence instead of slouching and shying away from others; a byproduct of spending far too much time in front of a computer terminal. Being nearly twice the young mans age, and never having children of his own, James couldn't help but feel like a fatherly figure towards him.
However, Mac still dressed like he did when they met. He never wandered far from his usual wardrobe of jeans and a t-shirt, usually blazoning some sort of humorous comment or pop culture reference. The kid had such a wide variety of shirts that James swore he subscribed to some sort of shirt-of-the-day club. Today's displayed knights getting mutilated by cartoon bunnies in reference to Monty Python's Holy Grail movie. Both the shirt and the movie were one of Mac's favorites. He always wore it on the first day of a new job. James had no doubt that the movie was likely playing somewhere in the room Mac just exited.
They met at the elevator directly in between their rooms, and went downstairs. “Cell phones are down,” Mac commented casually the same way most people would say 'we're out of milk'.
“What do you mean down?” James asked.
“No signal,” he shrugged as he pulled a granola bar out of his pocket, taking a massive bite that consumed half of the food. He quickly chewed and swallowed before speaking again as the elevator reached the main floor. “I was just looking into it when the crash hit. I'll figure it out when we get back.” He wolfed down the rest of the granola bar, dropping the wrapper in the trash can just out side of the elevator.
By the time they reached the lobby of the shabby old hotel, the unearthly sound of the Charger could be heard making its way up the street. With one look out the lobby windows at the source of the noise, James could tell that a crash was imminent. He quickly stepped back through the lobby towards the east hallway, taking his jacket off as he did. He wrapped the jacket around his right hand and smashed the glass to the case guarding the fire extinguisher set into the wall only a few feet in, and snatched up the extinguisher, leaving the jacket where it lay. He returned to the lobby just before the point of impact.
The Charger slammed into the passengers side of the Delta 88, pushing it aside until the drivers side crashed up against the back of the second police car. The runaway Charger continued on its kamikaze course until it came to a sudden and instantaneous stop when it collided with a tree on the opposite side of the street. The tree trunk didn’t so much as budge when the car wrapped its front end around it. The branches shuddered and the colorful fall leaves rained down on the smoking wreck like confetti commemorating some sort of bizarre demolition derby ritual.
James ran across the hotel parking lot with Mac following close behind. By the time they got there, everyone was out of their vehicles, visibly stunned. A woman in blue medical scrubs shook uncontrollably as she stepped out of her vehicle, barely able to stand. She collapsed on the cement next to the door, trying desperately to catch her breath and calm her nerves. She looked about ready to vomit right there in the street, but waged a war against her body to prevent it from happening. In the bright red convertible behind her, a young man in Ray Ban sunglasses and hunters green vest over top of a white shirt and red tie stepped out of his car, crossing himself, blessing the miracle that he was still alive. In the car in front of her a young couple stepped out of the vehicle for a momentary reprieve of their bickering, but promptly returned to arguing about whose fault it was. A man stepped out of the drivers side of the van that had been in front of the Delta. Instead of being grateful, he looked furious.
James called out to see if everyone was all right. Nobody else said a word, but a few nodded in acknowledgment. Too many tragic things happened in such a short amount of time. None of them registered any of it into their minds yet, not even the police officer who was trained to handle these sorts of situations. She seemed to be completely disoriented by the experience, dazed, and lost in her own little world more so than any of the others. The man in the passenger seat of the police cruiser got out, clinging to the dog for dear life, his eyes still vacant and staring off into space, but finally a bit more aware of his surroundings. He eventually wandered off in the direction of the hotel, and nobody made any motion to stop him.
A woman got out of the van with her two kids and looked them over to make sure they were all right. James went over to the other three kids at the side of the road, set down the fire extinguisher, and knelt in front of them.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The girl put her arms around the younger boy and turned him away from the strange man, shielding him.
“We’re just fine,” she blurted out in a voice far too defiant for an 8 year old. “We don’t need your help”, at which he sneezed out loud, almost as if in response. She turned and gave him a slight scowl.
James looked back and forth between the pair, not entirely sure what to make of them. They looked enough alike that they were definitely siblings, unlike the other boy who bore no resemblance to them. The younger boy appeared to be about 6years old, and wouldn’t look at James. The girl, however, looked him directly in the eye, staring him down.
“We're not hurt.” The older boy was the first to break the awkward silence. “I'm Nate. This is Abby and Max.” Abby's stone cold stare instantly diverted towards Nate, and James was grateful. A look of such serious defiance and determination didn't sit well on someone so young.
“Where are your parents?” James asked.
Without even thinking about it, the three looked in the direction of the crumpled scrap of metal that looked like a station wagon mere minutes before. They turned back in unison, their eyes downcast. James immediately regretted asking the question.
Behind him he heard a repeated thud. James turned to see the young goth girl in the crashed Delta trying to get out through the passengers side door only to find that it had been damaged enough in the collision that it wouldn’t budge. Mac sprung to her aid.
'Of course,' James thought to himself, smirking. 'He would go to the aid of the cute girl first.'
“Are you alright?” Mac yelled to be heard through the glass.
“Yeah, I’m just spiffy,” she replied. James couldn't tell how much of it was sarcasm, or if she was still woozy from the collision.
James felt confident that Mac would take care of the young woman, and diverted his attention back towards the children.
Two young children walked up to James from the nearby van, a boy and girl about seven years old who looked to be fraternal twins.
“Hi,” the little girl said.
“That was awesome!” The boy called out, looking back towards the Charger.
“Shh. There is nothing cool,” she said in a thick Ukranian accent that made the word sound like 'cole', “about people getting hurt.”
“Yes, Ursula.” His eyes were suddenly downcast at being scolded.
“Kiev?” James asked the woman, identifying her accent.
“Yes, how...” but she didn't get the chance to finish the sentence.
Mac called out, “James! Fire!” The words immediately got everyone's attention. Before he even finished saying it, the trunk of the vehicle erupted into flames.
James burst into action and told Ursula to take all the kids over to the hotel. “What about Richard?” She gestured towards the man who had exited from the drivers side of the van who was now running full sprint away from the scene.
“Later,” James called back over his shoulder as he snatched up the fire extinguisher and ran towards the flames. Officer Jamison let the prisoner out of the back of the squad car. She scowled a bit when she saw that his hands were no longer behind his back, but released him anyway and they ran for cover towards the Charger.
Mac yelled to the girl to take cover as he banged on the window with his elbow. She quickly turned away to avoid getting showered with shards of glass. After the third try the glass shattered and Mac winced in pain. He ignored his damaged elbow, brushed away some of the remaining glass, and reached in to pull her out through the gaping hole in the window. He hadn’t cleared away the opening completely, but they didn’t have the time. The flames were already bursting forth like a ravenous beast ready to consume them.
The remaining glass fell to the ground as he pulled her through the opening. They were both ready to hit the ground running, but her legs were still shaky from the collision and sheer panicked terror. He ended up having to hold one side of her and help her limp along as he shouted at everyone else to get clear, not that there was a need to since they had already taken off running.
The handcuffed prisoner dove into the grass for cover, expecting the inevitable explosion, but it never came. James nonchalantly walked up to the flaming car and doused it with the fire extinguisher thoroughly until the fire was no more, completely draining the extinguisher to make absolutely certain.
As James walked towards the group of scared people he passed by the prisoner lying in the grass. “What’s your name?”
“Bruce,” the prisoner admitted reluctantly with a faint Texas accent.
“Well Bruce, cars don’t really explode when they catch fire.” He looked up towards the dumbfounded group of onlookers. “You all watch too many movies.” With that he offered Bruce his free hand and helped him up to his feet before joining the others. Bruce accepted it, his face turning beet red from embarrassment, and possibly anger.
“How come you know so much about car fires?”
James smirked, eying the handcuffs, “A curious mind and an abandoned junkyard are a fun way to spend a youth.” In truth, James had set his fair share of car fires, both in his youth and as an adult, but this stranger didn’t need to know that.
The wired up and frightened group of people took a moment to get their bearings. Ursula continued towards the direction of the hotel with the children in tow. The man with the dog wandered off in the general direction of the hotel, but didn’t seem that he was headed anywhere in particular, still dazed. Mac and his new found female acquaintance took a seat in the grass near the wrecked Charger. Still woozy from the crash, she was having difficulty standing.
The bickering couple remained in their car on reprieve from their disagreements. The woman in medical scrubs in the car behind them sat in the drivers side with the door open rocking back and forth in the seat with nervous anxiety. Richard checked out the Charger that embraced the tree. James eyed him cautiously. The man had abandoned his family in an instant to save his own hide. Extreme situations always brought a persons true character to light, and Richard was clearly a coward. James didn't like him already.
Richard was joined by the young man from the convertible. As James got a closer look he could see the name tag. Manager: Ned, followed by the stores slogan “Shop smart, shop S-mart”. Their curiosity about the Charger peaked, distracting them from the smoking wreckage in the other direction. For some reason being in a fire, or at least the potential of being burned, instills so much fear in people that the possibility of other types of injuries are completely dismissed. Everyone looked on the wrecked Charger with awe, seemingly forgetting the fact that it caused the fire in the first place.
Officer Jamison dragged Bruce towards the wreckage with her, not letting him out of her sight. Oddly enough, she seemed more in shock than anyone. There was still no sign of the first police officer or the driver of the Hummer, nor did she give any indication that there would be anyone coming.
“Are you all right?” James asked her, seriously concerned.
“No,” she replied vacantly.
“I appreciate your honesty. What's your name?”
“Julia,” was all she said, not even looking at him. James looked her over carefully. A shootout had clearly occurred between her and someone else behind the Hummer, possibly the other officer. The fact that she holstered her pistol indicated that she still some of her faculty.
“This is a pretty messed up morning,” Ned said to nobody at all, more to break the awkward silence than anything.
“That’s nothing, wait until you see this,” Richard called out as he stood by the driver’s door.
James moved in closer to examine the driver. He appeared to be quite young, but it was hard to tell since his face from the nose down was smashed against the steering wheel like a melon dropped from the roof onto the sidewalk. His head had been lifted back from when someone had attempted to check his pulse to no avail. Much like the driver of the station wagon, there was no surviving a crash of this magnitude. The steering column of the charger was pushed up against his chest, crushing it.
Two things in particular stood out about the young driver. First, that he had absolutely no hair. The entire top of his head had been shaven clean, as well as all of his eyebrows. The other peculiar thing was that the word ‘CHEATER’ had been written in black marker across his forehead. Not only did it cover the span of his entire forehead, but it was also written backwards.
“What’s that all about?” Ned commented. James licked his finger then rubbed it on the corpse’s forehead, and nothing came off.
“Permanent marker,” he said. “It’s written backwards so that he can read it clearly whenever he looks in the mirror. Poor guy.”
“Poor guy?” Richard burst out in anger. “What do you mean poor guy? This dumb ass on a kamikaze run just about killed us.”
James ignored him and swiped his hand down the dead mans eyes to close them. “You must have done something to really piss off the wrong person.”
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Bruce finally chimed in. That finally brought Julia out of her stupor.
“All right, that’s enough,” she declared in an authoritative tone. She started grabbing the prisoner and pulled him away from the vehicle. “This is the scene of an accident, so you all need to back away.”
“I rest my case,” Bruce muttered under his breath just loud enough that everyone could hear. She gave him an extra hard shove, enough that he almost lost his balance.
Richard started sniffing in the air and wrinkled his nose. He leaned in towards the driver and sniffed again. “Jeez, did this guy crap himself?”
Sure enough, the driver positively reeked. James knew that when a person died they lost all bowel control because the muscles are no longer functioning to hold anything in. But it wasn’t this instantaneous, despite what they repeatedly showed on South Park episodes. This smelled like old feces, like the man had been wallowing in it.
“Jesus!” Ned burst out loud. “Look at those tires.” Everyone looked to see what he was talking about. The front tire was hard to see because it hugged the tree and was partially obscured by scrap metal, but the back tire was as flat as could be. “No wonder the poor kid couldn’t control the vehicle, he was going at top speed on flat tires.”
James looked back in awe, recalling the terrible grinding noise that accompanied the Chargers arrival. While everyone else was dumbstruck by this new bit of information, Ned went around to the other side of the vehicle.
“This side too,” he called out from the other side of the wreckage. “Both of them.” He crouched down to examine them closer, yelling out to the others “it looks like the rims are worn down and the tires are partly shredded. The tire over here is completely shredded. He must have been driving like that for several blocks. This thing must have one hell of an engine to get that much speed while driving on four flats.”
“You mean it had one hell of an engine,” Bruce chimed in, seemingly unable to help himself. “It’s a shame to see such a thing of beauty die like this.” He crossed himself like a Catholic saying grace, kissed his palms, and placed them on the car.
Suddenly out of nowhere, a woman jumped out of the bushes on the other side of the Charger and began pummeling Ned with a thick piece of wood from a tree branch. The crazed woman didn’t say a word, and just kept swinging at Ned without abandon again and again. Ned was knocked unconscious with the first blow, not even knowing what hit him. It took a few moments for the others to really grasp what was going on.
Bruce was the closest and leaped on the woman’s back as she knelt over Ned’s prone body, continuing to pummel him with the makeshift club. Even with Bruce on her back she continued her assault unheeded, letting out a horrifying primal screeching and growling sound that sent shivers down James' spine. He swore it sounded like some sort of vicious wild animal, and not a person.
Bruce put his hands over the crazed woman’s head and pulled back with all his might pressing the handcuff chain tight against her throat. Julia came around the Charger, pistol drawn, but couldn’t get a clear shot without possibly hitting Bruce or Ned. She yelled at the woman to stop, but it didn’t do any good. The assault on Ned continued with the crazed woman seemingly oblivious to the fact that someone was on her back choking her. The only change to her assault was that her frenzied screaming became a sick gurgling sound. She continued to pummel Ned ruthlessly with the bit of wood like they were mortal enemies.
She proceeded to wail on Ned with such force that the club snapped. With the next swing, the club broke in two, and the head of the club flew into the air and barely missing Julia. After a few more swings the crazed woman began to slow down. Not because she was getting tired or finished with her attack, but due to lack of oxygen from Bruce crushing her windpipe. There was a sickening wet crunching sound as she eventually stopped entirely and collapsed into a crumpled heap on the ground. The entire duration of the attack, from the moment she appeared through the bushes until she dropped dead was less than two minutes.
James and Julia helped Bruce get his cuffed wrists from around the woman’s neck and rolled her off of Ned, but it was too late. He wasn’t moving, he wasn’t breathing, and there was no pulse. Ned was dead before they even had the chance to learn his full name. His name tag was now covered in so much blood that it was indiscernible.
As soon as they were aware that Ned was actually dead, there was no time to check and see if the woman who attacked him was still alive. Another woman suddenly leaped through the bushes and pounced on Richard’s back, putting all her weight onto him. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him, with her nails digging into his body. She let out a feral ‘Aagkh’ that didn’t sound like any sort of real word, nor did it sound like she was attempting to speak. Instead she growled and yelled in a fit of rage.
Richard screamed out in surprise and jumped around trying to dislodge the crazy lady like a bronco trying to buck its rider. Julia whirled around from the body of the first assailant with gun in hand ready to fire, but once again couldn’t get a clear shot without hitting Richard. The crazed woman bit down hard on Richard’s shoulder at the base of his neck, causing blood to pour out. He stopped jumping around and screamed out in pain, falling to his knees. James took the opportunity and smacked her as hard as he could in the side of the temple with base of the fire extinguisher. There was a sickening thud with a slight crunching sound, like a hard-boiled egg being thrown against a brick wall, and the woman went completely limp, falling to the ground.
Julia quickly pulled the woman off of Richard while James threw down the extinguisher, ripped open his dress shirt, and used the fabric to keep pressure on Richards’s neck wound as it bled profusely. With this much blood it looked like she had punctured his carotid artery. If that was the case, then he was a doomed man and would be dead in minutes. But there was no time to worry about that.
“We have to get him inside,” James declared as he tried to hold the wound shut. Just then there was another yell of ‘Aagkh’ from beyond the bushes. This time from a deeper voice.
“Better make it quick,” Bruce declared.
“Can you walk?” Julia said to Richard as he lay on the ground in pain. He started to get up while holding the gaping wound on his neck, but he was wobbly and had trouble standing, eventually collapsing back to the ground. He had lost too much blood already and was losing consciousness.
A strange man emerged from the bushes. He appeared disheveled with his hair and clothes in disarray, a crazed look in his eye, and was covered in blood. He didn’t show any signs of injury or torn clothes. The blood apparently wasn’t his. The stranger muttered to himself in a conversation that only he seemed to be a part of. He was so absorbed in his own ranting that he seemed oblivious to the group’s presence, and they were hoping it stayed that way. James gave Mac a hand signal without a word and the younger man came running over with the girl in tow, taking James' place in keeping pressure on Richards wound.
Julia aimed her pistol at the strange man, “Sir, are you ok?” She called out to him, but there was no response.
He was lost in his own little world muttering something that only he could understand. He seemed completely oblivious to their presence, but still wandered in their direction. While his words were indiscernible, his tone was clearly agitated. The more he ranted on, the more agitated he became. His arms started waving about in furious gestures, further looking like a heated conversation with an unknown party. He obviously wasn’t aware of them, but still continued on a heading directly towards them, like a derelict ship drifting towards a rocky shore.
“Sir, I’m going to need to ask you to back away,” Julia called out, not taking her pistol off of him. James picked the fire extinguisher back up, readying it as a weapon. Julia fired a warning shot into the ground near the man. The goth girl let out a startled squeal at the report, but the man didn’t even flinch, and continuing to ramble on unheeded.
“Sir, you need to back away now or I will shoot,” she warned. When there was still no response Julia fired again, this time grazing his right thigh. The man continued on as if nothing happened, the only indication being a slight limp to his gait. He was getting more and more upset, downright screaming in frustration, yet still oblivious to his injury.
James called out behind him, but not daring to take his eyes off the strange man for more than a second, “all of you drag him back to the hotel, pronto. Try to stop the bleeding, and get ready to barricade the doors.”
All three of them nodded without a word. Bruce grabbed Richard by the ankles, Mac grabbed one arm, and the girl the other. Together they dragged him towards the hotel as quickly as they could. James could hear the screeching of tires and the strain of an engine. He could only assume it was one of the other cars caught in the mini-traffic jam trying to force another vehicle out of the way, but he wasn't in a position to give it any of his attention.
Julia and James slowly backed away from the crazed man while maintaining defensive positions, making certain to stay at least five feet away from him. His heart pounded in his ears. Adrenaline pumped through his veins with the anticipation of when the man will attack them. Instincts screamed loud and clear that this man was dangerous and would attack them at any moment, it was just a matter of when.
“Have you ever encountered a dangerous wild animal?” He whispered over to Julia without taking his eyes off the man.
“Got it,” she said. He hoped that she understood. Whenever coming across a dangerous animal, your best bet of walking away without injury is to carefully back away without making any sudden moves. Eventually they may not see you as a threat, or as prey, anymore. If they do, however, you have the distance you need to get away.
They gradually increased their distance between the man. Fight or flight responses kick in as they teetered on the edge of which impulse would take over.
The man’s anger and rage intensified, climbing higher and higher like a mercury thermometer on a hot summer day. Out of the corner of his eye James could see the woman he hit with the fire extinguisher regaining consciousness. He tapped Julia on the shoulder and pointed in that direction.
“I think we need to make a break for it,” he whispered, even though there was no need for it at this point. She nodded in agreement. They continued stepping backwards, but with bigger steps this time.
Flight it is.
As the crazed woman rose to her feet, the strange man’s rage fueled ramblings reached its crescendo and he lunged towards them like a feral beast. Julia instinctively fired three times, connecting with the man on each shot; once in the left leg and twice in the right shoulder. James had a fraction of a second to register in his mind that the man wasn’t even fazed by getting shot except for the inertia of the high speed slugs of metal slamming into him. Whether the bullets stopped him in his tracks or not didn’t matter, because flight had already taken over.
James sprinted with all his might in the direction of the hotel, secretly praying that they could reach safety in time. The urgency was so great that he neglected to think, for several steps, that this wasn’t the same as calling sanctuary in a church. Just because they make it to the doors wouldn’t mean they would be safe. But for now just making it to the hotel, even if it meant surviving for a few minutes longer, would give him enough time to figure something else out.
His mind raced of all the possibilities; what he would do if one of them tripped along the way, if the crazies in pursuit caught up to them, if they couldn’t get the doors secure behind them, how long it would take them to break the doors down if they did secure them, how long it would take them to give up pursuit, and a multitude of other possibilities.
He started plotting the probabilities he had calculated while they were slowly backing away moments before, figuring the most likely possible outcome. As soon as he saw how quickly these people moved when they started pursuit, James could already tell the outcome with 91 percent accuracy.
Short of a miracle, they weren’t going to make it to the hotel in time.