Whack A Mole

“Gus, please be so kind as to bring your vessel around to my stern.”

“Ceepak?” Gus calls out.

“Do as he says.”

“That's the good boy, Johnny. I'll meet you fellows around back. I have work to do.”

The radio goes dead.

Gus eases the throttles forward, turns the wheel, brings us around the Reel Fun's port side, pivots our bow left, takes us dead astern to its aft end.

I can't see much. Just the reflection of the flaming crosses dancing on the waxed floorboards on either side of my hiding place.

“Cut your engines!” I hear Pete scream from directly in front of our boat.

“Aye, aye,” Gus grumbles.

“Drop your anchor!”

“All right, all right!” Gus moves away from the control console. He goes the long way: to the left and then around the front of the wide podium. He doesn't want to step on me on his way out.

“Hurry up, Gus!” yells Pete. “I'm on a very tight schedule.”

I hear Gus clank slowly down the ladder.

“Don't worry, Johnny,” says Pete. “Rita is heavily sedated. Won't feel a thing. She was a fighter. Very scrappy. Typically, I like to have my girls wide awake for the cleansing.”

Ceepak still doesn't say anything.

I sidle to my right. Peek around the podium.

“I imagined the Coast Guard would spot me first,” Cap'n Pete calls out across the span of water separating the butt of his boat from the front of ours. I'm guessing it's only about ten feet. “I assumed they would fly over in one of their search planes or perhaps read the heat signature once my little inferno really starts roiling. But this is better. Much better.”

“I want you to untie Rita,” says Ceepak.

“Of course you do, Johnny. Tell me-does it pain you to see her like this? To know that I have seen her naked flesh?”

“Please cover her body with a blanket.”

“How old is Rita? Thirty? Thirty-five? Still quite attractive. You know, I knew her back in the day. Saw her in a bikini. Firm, full breasts. Still has them, doesn't she? Yes, indeedy….”

“Cover her. Now!”

“No, Johnny. I can't do that. Rita Lapczynski defied the Lord's Commandments. She was promiscuous. She slept with men outside the sanctity of holy matrimony. Not once, but twice. Maybe more often. How many men do you think have had her, Johnny? Did she tell you? Was it a dozen? Two dozen? More?”

“I'll ask you once more, Mullen. Kindly cover her.”

“No! I will not obey your commands! I only listen to Him! Is that clear? You're like my goddamn mother. Nag, nag, nag. Vicious cunt. She was so disappointed in me, Johnny. So disappointed. Of course, I understand why now. I let her down. I truly did. That's why I have not yet had sex with your girlfriend. Oh, I was tempted. Sorely tested. They all tempted me. Their flesh cold and soft, making me strong and rigid.”

I have the Glock in my hand.

I have sixteen bullets. Probably one chance.

“When Mother passed, I thought this was finished. Thought I was done. I no longer felt the urge, Johnny. Not for a full fifteen years. I was content with Mary. Kept my marital vows for a decade and a half. But then, Mother came back to me. Told me I had been selfish. Lustful. Greedy. It's true, of course. I know it. I coveted my souvenirs. I pleasured myself with their flesh. Over and over. Out here. All alone. I did not do as Ezekiel commanded. I admit that, now, Johnny. I confess my sins, here in your presence. And this is why I am so delighted to have you with us tonight. Everyone in town knows Johnny Ceepak cannot and will not tell a lie. You'll tell Reverend Billy and my Mary the truth. You'll tell them all that Peter Paul Mullen kept the Lord's Commandments. He obeyed every single word!”

I hear feet pinging on the ladder rungs again. Gus is climbing back up. I crane my neck, see his head bob into view.

We make eye contact.

He gives me the slightest nod. He hauls himself up and retakes his position behind the wheel.

“Oh, by the way, Johnny,” Cap'n Pete chuckles, “please forgive me for misleading you. I buried that snapshot under false pretenses. The redhead was never my intended target.”

“I know.”

“Of course you do, Johnny. You're very clever that way. Very clever, indeedy. But can you forgive me? Please? I know you can not tolerate liars, but surely you understand my need to temporarily distract you.”

“Put that down,” says Ceepak.

“I can't.”

I hear a small electric motor. Chugging.

“We must do this precisely at midnight. Just like the electric chair or the gas chamber.”

The motor's purr is coupled with a pulsing click. It reminds me of something.

Thanksgiving.

The electric carving knife.

“You don't need to do that, Mullen,” says Ceepak. “Not tonight.”

“Oh, but I do, Johnny. It says so in Scripture. Ezekiel's wording is quite explicit. First the ears, then the nose, then the remnant must fall by the sword and the residue must be devoured by fire!”

I spring up into a kneeling stance. Aim.

Cap'n Pete sees me. Looks shocked. Holds a huge electric knife stiffly at his side.

“Daniel?”

Now he glares at Ceepak.

“You lied!”

Gives me time to line up a shot.

“Freeze!” I scream. “Drop the knife! Drop it now!”

He does. I hear it clatter to the deck. The motor keeps running, the blades clicking.

“Put your hands above your head!” shouts Ceepak.

Cap'n Pete does.

Gus guns up the engines. Pushes us forward, tugging against the anchor line. The boat rocks. So do I.

For a second, I lose my line of fire. Stumble forward. Have to reach out with my left hand, brace myself against a railing.

When I look up, I see Cap'n Pete holding a red gas canister.

“Drop it!” I call out, lining up my shot again, aiming for the middle of his chest.

He smiles.

He dips to his right and swings to his left-sending up a liquid line of diesel fuel to the starboard cross.

The vapor explodes into a fireball.

“Take him out, Danny!” Gus screams.

“Now!” yells Ceepak.

I squeeze the trigger.

My first shot misses, thwacks into the gas can, pierces the plastic, sprays flammable liquid everywhere. The fire spreads.

“Ram him!” Ceepak orders.

Gus jams the throttles full speed ahead. We lunge forward, as far as the anchor will allow.

I take a second shot.

My firing stance is shaky but I hit Cap'n Pete in the chest.

I hear a hard smack.

He stumbles backward.

My third shot whacks him in the chest again. Our bow smashes into his stern.