WALKABOUT 2 - The Back of Beyond (Part 14)

Affiliate Disclosure
Some of the links on this blog are affiliate links. This means that if you click on a link and make a purchase, I may earn a commission at no additional cost to you. I only recommend products and services I genuinely believe in. Thank you for your support!

76

The beating of the Mulligan imposter, Hamilton, was nothing Simone hadn’t seen dozens of times before. He knew nothing, could tell Flynn nothing that would jeopardize her plans. She leaned in, whispered into Flynn’s ear. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Flynn nodded, not the least bit curious.

Jared Mulligan

I’ve been roughed up a few times. Mostly in the past few weeks. But I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Archer finally got to take his anger out on me when Flynn gave him the nod. With two other Death Adders holding me, Archer punched me in the stomach, the face, my ribs. He kicked my shins and he kicked my balls. I could do nothing about it. When Simone left the room, I presumed it was because she had no stomach for the brutality.

Outside, in the parking lot, Simone made a call. “Jocko,” Simone said. “Flynn’s on to you.”

“Then we’re done with this caper,” Jocko replied. “Looks like we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“No,” she said. “I have a better plan.”

By the time Simone rejoined us, my situation had gone from bad to worse. They probably would have continued until I gave them a name, or until they killed me, had Simone not announced, “It was Jocko. I’ve traced calls. And emails. Jocko hired him.”

With a wave of the hand, Flynn signaled to the men holding me, and they dropped me like a bag of cement.

77

Page County, Indiana

One email practically jumped off the screen, demanding Sheriff Bridges’ attention.

Sherif bridges shelby

in danger hangar

page airport tyh

Bridges was no stranger to prank leads from crackpots, or from anonymous tipsters wanting the police to investigate someone with whom they had a dispute. The sheriff was skeptical, to say the least. His niece, Shelby, being held in a hangar at the local airport? Come on. No. Still, he had to run down every lead until they found her or she came home on her own.

And who or what was tyh?

He googled it. Nothing much came up. To Your Health. Trust Your Heart. Doubtful there was any kind of useful clue to be found there.

So, could it be a typo? Possibly, but there was no way knowing what it was supposed to have been, so chasing it would lead nowhere.

All that left was what if it was a person. Someone with initials T.Y.H. Someone who cared about Shelby. Then it came to him. Tyler Hamilton. But that was crazy. He and Hamilton had each done their best to kill one another a few weeks back. Now the sheriff was left with a crushed larynx and a raspy voice. Hamilton? Who knew where he was? And why would he get involved in helping to find Shelby?

Sheriff Bridges strapped on his duty belt. For a moment, he considered calling for another officer to meet him at the airport, then decided against it.

78

Coober Pedy

“Where’s Jocko?” Flynn asked Simone.

“He and a few others are gone.” Simone replied. “No one’s seen them since the day of the funeral. I think he intends to jack the shipment. Use it against us.”

“Then let’s get moving,” Flynn said. He paused, looked at me, lying there on the floor. “You should have given him up, mate. Your little girl might have lived.” He said to Simone, “Take them out to the fields, with the others,”

“You got what you wanted, Flynn,” I croaked “You know who hired Mulligan. You know I had nothing to do with it. Now let my daughter go.”

Archer grabbed me by my right arm, yanked me up. “I still say he’s Mulligan,” he said to Flynn. “Let me do him, boss. I’ll do Jocko as well. Son of a bitch, betrayin’ you.”

“MY DAUGHTER, FLYNN!” I shouted.

Flynn grunted, nodded toward the door. To Simone he said, “See to it they’re taken care of.”

“Looks like you couldn’t save your little girl, Daddy,” Archer laughed as he shoved me toward the door.

“ALRIGHT!” I shouted again as Flynn walked away. “You want him dead. I’ll kill him.”

“Too late,” Archer said, pushing me again, harder this time. “You had your chance. Flynn’s done with you, you’re mine now.”

I smacked into the door frame, braced myself against it, preventing Archer from pushing me out

“I SAID I’LL DO IT, FLYNN!”

Flynn stopped, turned and said to me, “Archer’s right. It’s too late.”

79

Jasmine and I were shackled with zip ties, with our hands in front, and taken out the back side of the clubhouse. Archer and Peter, along with Simone, and another tough-looking biker escorted Jasmine and me toward a dirty, dented pickup truck. As Simone got in the driver’s side of the cab, Archer and one of the other bikers grabbed me and hoisted me into the bed like I used to toss a bale of hay back on the farm in Indiana. I fell next to the body of the guy who was killed by the snake, Billy Thorn.

Peter and Archer, joined me. The remaining biker reached for Jasmine to place her in the truck bed with us. She offered some resistance, but he was strong, and scooped her up at the waist, hoisted her over a shoulder, then deposited her next to me.

The ride in the truck was rough. We bounced through the desert, hitting rocks, eroded ditches, and the occasional scrub brush.

We came upon an area covered by large mounds of sand and rock, reminding me of prairie dog towns I’d seen in Wyoming, but on a much larger scale. The prairie dog mounds were no more than a foot or so in height. These were anywhere from five to twenty feet tall. “Opal mines,” Archer said. “The end of the road for you, Mulligan.”

Simone braked to a stop, opened the door, and stepped out. Archer slid over the tailgate and climbed down, reached into his waistband for his gun and said, “Get out.” Jasmine and I, along with Peter and the other biker, joined him on the ground.

“You two get rid of Billy,” Simone ordered Archer and the other biker. Without a word, the two men pulled the body from the truck bed and drug it to the base of a mound and dumped it into a mineshaft.

That’s when things started happening faster than I could process, but it went something like this:

Jasmine rushed Simone, caught her off balance, tackled her to the ground. Action is always quicker than reaction, and Simone was totally defensive as Jasmine began pounding on her, hitting her hard, fast, and often.

80

Peter turned his attention away from me as his sister and Jasmine grappled on the ground. I reached over his head, hooked my arms around his neck as best I could with the zip ties restricting my mobility. I fit his neck into the crook of my arm, then put my hands up against the side of my head. It wasn’t a classic sleeper hold, but it seemed to be working.

Simone clawed Jasmine’s face, drawing blood. A moment later, she grabbed Jasmine’s waist, pulled herself into her, then pivoted to the left and shifted enough to allow her to reach for her knife.

Peter and I struggled, rising to our feet, only to topple over and fall back to the ground. I landed on my back, striking a rock just below my left shoulder blade. The pain caused me to loosen my grip. Peter was quick to take advantage, slipping out of my grasp to straddle me in a mount position and begin flailing away. He landed several blows before I managed to grab one of his wrists, pull it close, and bite down on his hand.

Peter howled and cursed, yanked his hand away. He reached instinctively for his gun with his other hand. Fortunately for me, it was back in the burned-out Holden. I attempted a double-palm thrust to his nose, but he turned his head, and the blow grazed his cheek, accomplishing nothing other than to piss him off even more.

Peter leaned forward, reached across to grab the collar of my shirt and pull it tight against my neck, while at the same time pressing the blade of his forearm against my throat I could feel my eyes bulging, and breathing was nearly impossible. I wouldn’t last long.

I grabbed his elbow with both hands, looped my left leg over his right foot, and twisted to my left, flipping him off me.

With my hands still bound together, my options were limited. I crawled away, struggling to get to my feet, but came down hard again when Peter grabbed me by the pants leg.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he grunted he jumped on me once again. I leaned into him, grabbed his collar with both hands, and sunk my teeth into his nose.

Jasmine saw the knife, executed a back roll, coming up on her feet. Simone was quick to her feet as well, lunging forward, slashing at Jasmine’s throat. Jasmine moved back, avoiding the blade, parried a punch from Simone’s empty hand. Simone grabbed Jasmine’s arm, pulled her close, and brought the blade up for what would be the first of a series of killing thrusts.

Peter twisted away, freeing his nose from my teeth just as Archer and his helper returned. I immediately went for his neck, attacking like a famished wolf. Biting, twisting, tearing flesh, going for his jugular vein or carotid artery, anything to kill him.

“Archer!” Peter screamed. “Help! Shoot the son of a bitch!”

“My pleasure, mate!” Archer said as he raised his gun.

Jasmine side-stepped, attempted to deflect the thrust, felt the blade slice into her outer left forearm. She delivered an elbow to Simone’s head just as the gunshot pierced the air.