Copyright © Lee Casebolt, 1996. This work may be transmitted electronically or by other means at will, provided there is no money involved.
By Lee Casebolt.
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It was well past dark when we found the cabin. Ever driven through mountain roads (and I use that term loosely) in the dark? Not an experience for the faint of heart. I think there's still a vertebrae lodged in my skull.
The truck rumbled to a halt in front of the cabin. Five armed men were out to greet us before she even shut the lights off. Fortunately, I recognized four of them. One, a huge bear of a man, shouldered his M-16 and stepped forward.
"That you, Chris?"
"D? How the hell are ya!" I stepped forward, and we embraced. I hadn't seen Andy "Big D" Davis in four years. It seemed like longer.
"Well, all things considered, I'd rather be back in Guatemala, but..." He grinned, and looked for all the world like a big kid out on his first Boy Scout trip.
He turned and led me towards the group, and I greeted each of my former comrades - Dan Wyse, Jimmy Sikes, and Ron Williams. The fifth man I didn't know, but he could only be one person.
"Paul Burke? Chris Bennett." I introduced myself, and offered my hand. He took it. Firm grip; not hard like some insecure, bullying bastards who want to show how strong they are, just solid. Like his brother. I sized him up, sure he was doing the same to me. Bruce Lee was the first thing that came to my mind - he was short, maybe five eight, and slender, but every ounce of him was muscle. He had the right eyes, too. Watchful, without being paranoid. He was a predator, either by nature or by training. He fit right in.
"Come on in, Chris. It's poker night; we'll deal you in," Ron offered. Wonderful. A poker game with guys who defined "cutthroat". This was gonna be a hell of a night.
Two hand in and I was down fifteen bucks. This just wasn't my day.
"Andy, toss me a beer." If I was gonna lose, intoxication was as good an excuse as any.
A beer can whipped through the air at a speed that would have made Nolan Ryan jealous, then came to a virtual halt less than an inch from my hand. Old trick of Andy's; he could manipulate kinetic energy in a number of ways, and Big D was not one to let such talents be wasted. Even after all the times he did it, it still bugged me. Of course, that's probably why he did it.
More cards. Three dueces, a nine, and a six. Shit. Paul raised. He'd been raising all night, by the look of the pile of cash in front of him.
"Call. Two cards. So, what do we know so far?" Figured I ought to get caught up.
"Two for the loser," Dan taunted as he dealt me my cards. "Not a damn thing, really. We're mostly guessing. Jack got offed without a mark on him, no drugs or anything, either. Probably powers."
Ron asked for a card, then added, "I only caught part of a voice when I bugged out. Couldn't do a positive ID off of it." Which probably meant that no one else would've even heard anything. Ron's the best point man in the world in part because he hears thing no one else can.
After a moment I realized I hadn't even picked up my cards yet. A four and a five. Jesus. "No marks. Anybody heard about Andrea?" Andrea had been one of our best hitters. She could kill you with just a touch, and no medical exam in the world would reveal a thing. Being a conscience-free bitch probably helped, too.
Dan threw a pile of money on the pot before responding. "Yeah. She's doing contract work in LA. Called me up last year, asking if I wanted a spot on the team. Showed up later at my door to repeat the offer. Looked downright put out when I broke her nose." We all laughed. Dan was the one guy Andrea couldn't hurt. Just too damn tough. "Oh, and I raise..." He paused to try and count the money. "I raise a whole shitload. Anybody wanna try?"
We all folded, and felt like pussies when he dropped an ace-high hand of nothing. Dan just grinned as he raked in the money.
Paul stood up as Jimmy was dealing the next hand. "I'm going to check on Wendy." She'd gone upstairs, probably feeling less than comfortable around all the old soldier-boys. Couldn't blame her, I guess.
As soon as he was gone, I dropped my voice a bit. Not whispering, just quiet, so the sound wouldn't carry. "So, what do they do?" I asked.
"Not sure," Jimmy answered. "Paul's got boosted reflexes, I'm pretty sure. Nobody moves like that naturally. Might be an overall boosted metabolism, but I'm guessing." Good guess. It's what Jack had, and his were natural mutations, not engineered like Ron's, for example. "She's a norm as far as I can tell."
"Twenty says she's fireproof, maybe more."
"Why?"
"Pulled me out of a burning house and didn't even get ash in her hair."
"Good reason..."
Dan was grinning again. I looked at my cards - deuce through six straight. What the hell. He threw a big pile of money down, I answered. He dropped four queens. I hate this game.
Copyright © Lee Casebolt, 1996. This work may be transmitted electronically or by other means at will, provided there is no money involved.
By Lee Casebolt.
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