Helmet Head by Mike Baron Read Free Book Online Page B

“That motherfucker killed Larry and took the ice! He killed Fred. Likely killed Terrell and took our twenty grand. He’s got our ice, our cash, and he’s killed two of our friends.”
    Creases radiated from the bridge of Curtis’s nose. “Terrell should have been here by now. Terrell is one punctual cat.”
    Mad Dog stared at Fagan. “Maybe the pig took the ice, you ever think of that?”
    Wild Bill snorted. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me. Look at him! Do you think he’d drag his sorry ass in here holding our ice? Well here’s your chance, pig. Ride with us—help us get that Fred killer.”
    Macy looked up with red eyes.
    Fagan measured his words carefully. “Guys, that’s tornado weather outside. I advise you to stay inside until the power comes back on and we get an all-clear from the state highway patrol.”
    “Yeah, right,” Wild Bill sneered.
    “Pussyyyyyyyy,” Mad Dog hissed. He laid lines out on the table top. “I told you not to trust no jigs.”
    “Shut the fuck up, Dog,” Wild Bill said, bending to the table and hoovering a line. He looked up energized. “How about you, Macy. Want a bump?”
    “No thanks.”
    “Come on. Maybe it might uncrank your ass.”
    “No, thank you.”
    “Jesus, Macy. You used to be fun.”
    Macy got up and went behind the bar where she drew a glass of water and sat on a stool. Curtis set down his tape measure and followed her. The rest of the Dogs could care less except for Doc who watched warily.
    Fagan leaned on the bar. Curtis knelt next to Macy and said just loud enough for Fagan to hear, “Does Wild Bill know?”
    Macy shook her head. “And don’t tell him.”
    “How long have you known?”
    “A week.”
    “You need something for cramps or nausea?”
    Macy looked up. “What have you got?”
    Went unsaid were, do you plan to tell Bill, and what do you plan to do with the baby?
    “Please don’t make a fuss, Curtis. I don’t want anyone to know.”
    Curtis turned his soulful eyes on Fagan. Macy looked up.
    “Please don’t tell anyone,” she said.
    “I won’t.”
    Wild Bill snorked and bellowed, “Saddle up, boys!”
    “Not before we get that window sealed,” Curtis said. “You ain’t gonna leave your woman open to the elements, are ya?”
    Wild Bill looked from Curtis to Macy with little pig eyes.
    “Go a lot quicker if you guys chip in,” Curtis said.
    Chainsaw sprang to his feet. “I’ll help you measure those plywood sheets. How we gonna cut ’em?”
    “Fred’s got a table saw in the shed.”
    Curtis called off measurements. Chainsaw wrote them down. He, Curtis and Mad Dog returned to the shed. Soon Fagan could hear the shriek of the table saw. Even Wild Bill helped mount and seal the window. Chainsaw’s measurements and cuts were spot on. The replacement sheet was exactly the size of the plate glass window. Mad Dog found a tube of window putty in the shed and squeezed the whole thing out around the frame so the wind couldn’t get through.
    He stood back, hands on hips, proud of his handiwork. “Got any spray paint?”
    “All right?” Wild Bill said. “Everybody happy?”
    “That’ll do ’er,” Curtis said.
    “Lock and load, boys.”
    Mad Dog pulled out his nine, Chainsaw the magnum, Wild Bill the double .45, Doc a Taurus Judge five-shot revolver chambered for .410 shotgun shells.
    Curtis looked at Doc. “What the fuck, Doc?”
    “Curtis, we took an oath. You saw what he did to Fred.”
    Wild Bill stood. “Let’s roll.” He looked pointedly at Fagan. “You coming?”
    Fagan backed away with his hands up, palms forward as if to say, “I don’t have a thing to do with this.”
    “Don’t be here when we get back. Macy darling, make yourself beautiful for me.”
    The quintet trooped out of the bar shaking the floor. Fagan remained standing at the bar, Macy seated at a table with her face in her hands. Seconds later the Road Dogs’ bikes exploded into five kinds of thunder, revved, gassed, goosed and shredded down