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Authors: Jeff Strand
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know.”
More silence. The man shrugged, and then patted his partner on the arm. “Let’s get them out of here.”
The people who’d been listening to my story moved out of the way as his partner walked through them and pulled Roger to his feet. Without thinking, I quickly stood up. I glanced over at Nail Board. He gave me a slight nod, which I hoped meant, “Give me the signal, and I’ll whup ‘em.”
The two men exchanged a confused look. Then the second man shoved Roger aside and pointed his rifle at me. The first man took a pistol out of his jacket pocket and also pointed it at me. I raised my hands in the air.
“You’ve got about two seconds to explain this,” asked the first man. “Where’s the guy who brought you here?”
“It’s simple,” I said, trying to subtly wink at Nail Board. He shook his head, set down his board, and stepped back out of the way.
“Then let’s hear it.”
I said the only thing I could think of. “I’m Andrew Mayhem, also known as the Headhunter.”
Chapter 8
“I BEG your pardon?”
“You heard me,” I said.
“No, I’m pretty sure I missed something.”
“I’m the Headhunter. I promised to bring you Andrew Mayhem, and I did. Just not the way you expected.”
The man appeared completely flabbergasted. “So, what, you’re saying that you’re...him?”
“I’m him. He’s me. We’re we.”
Yes, the “we’re we” part was pushing it, but I had two guns in my face disrupting my concentration.
He shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. That’s completely ridiculous. There’s just no way.”
“I showed up for the meeting, didn’t I?” I gave him my broadest smile. “Surprise!”
The man gestured at me with his gun. “I do believe we need to go somewhere to talk. Let’s go.”
I shrugged and headed for the door. The other man grabbed Roger by the back of the neck and roughly led him to the door as well. As we left the apartment building, I noticed that Thomas’ rental car was still there. We walked along the sidewalk for a few feet, until the first man shoved me against the building (which miraculously didn’t come crashing down) and pressed the barrel of his gun to my throat.
“Now, what do you mean, you’re the Headhunter?”
“I mean, I’m the Headhunter. Fourteen victims in three years, the last dozen all killed by decapitation, and all by the same scimitar. I was going to call myself the Buccaneer, but that didn’t sound quite as menacing. The highlight of my life was killing off all five of those decrepit partiers at once. My turn-ons include women with pierced tongues, the scent of vanilla, and road kill. My turn-offs include law enforcement officials, asparagus, and shallow people.”
The man stared at me in disbelief. Then his expression changed to pure delight. “That is the coolest thing I have ever heard in my life ! What a fantastic fake-out! Oh, wow, we have got some serious stuff to talk about, my friend.” He removed the gun from my neck and extended his hand. “Daniel Rankin.”
I shook it, which was a bit difficult since my hand was numb from the cold. “Nice to meet you.”
Daniel pointed to the other man, who was still holding Roger. “That’s Curtwood Foster.” Curtwood didn’t react to the introduction.
“And what’s up with Roger here?” asked Daniel. “He didn’t know about you, did he?”
I hurriedly tried to come up with a way to get Roger out of this, but how could I explain away the handcuffs? “Not a thing.”
“That is so cool! Foster, put him in the van.”
I avoided looking at Roger while Foster dragged him toward a parked black van. If I was going to be the Headhunter, I couldn’t let any guilt show in my eyes. As it was, I could feel my legs trembling a bit, and my stomach acids were flowing like Niagara Falls. Things were without a doubt getting out of control, but any heroics at this point would just get both of us shot. I had to keep playing this out
More silence. The man shrugged, and then patted his partner on the arm. “Let’s get them out of here.”
The people who’d been listening to my story moved out of the way as his partner walked through them and pulled Roger to his feet. Without thinking, I quickly stood up. I glanced over at Nail Board. He gave me a slight nod, which I hoped meant, “Give me the signal, and I’ll whup ‘em.”
The two men exchanged a confused look. Then the second man shoved Roger aside and pointed his rifle at me. The first man took a pistol out of his jacket pocket and also pointed it at me. I raised my hands in the air.
“You’ve got about two seconds to explain this,” asked the first man. “Where’s the guy who brought you here?”
“It’s simple,” I said, trying to subtly wink at Nail Board. He shook his head, set down his board, and stepped back out of the way.
“Then let’s hear it.”
I said the only thing I could think of. “I’m Andrew Mayhem, also known as the Headhunter.”
Chapter 8
“I BEG your pardon?”
“You heard me,” I said.
“No, I’m pretty sure I missed something.”
“I’m the Headhunter. I promised to bring you Andrew Mayhem, and I did. Just not the way you expected.”
The man appeared completely flabbergasted. “So, what, you’re saying that you’re...him?”
“I’m him. He’s me. We’re we.”
Yes, the “we’re we” part was pushing it, but I had two guns in my face disrupting my concentration.
He shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. That’s completely ridiculous. There’s just no way.”
“I showed up for the meeting, didn’t I?” I gave him my broadest smile. “Surprise!”
The man gestured at me with his gun. “I do believe we need to go somewhere to talk. Let’s go.”
I shrugged and headed for the door. The other man grabbed Roger by the back of the neck and roughly led him to the door as well. As we left the apartment building, I noticed that Thomas’ rental car was still there. We walked along the sidewalk for a few feet, until the first man shoved me against the building (which miraculously didn’t come crashing down) and pressed the barrel of his gun to my throat.
“Now, what do you mean, you’re the Headhunter?”
“I mean, I’m the Headhunter. Fourteen victims in three years, the last dozen all killed by decapitation, and all by the same scimitar. I was going to call myself the Buccaneer, but that didn’t sound quite as menacing. The highlight of my life was killing off all five of those decrepit partiers at once. My turn-ons include women with pierced tongues, the scent of vanilla, and road kill. My turn-offs include law enforcement officials, asparagus, and shallow people.”
The man stared at me in disbelief. Then his expression changed to pure delight. “That is the coolest thing I have ever heard in my life ! What a fantastic fake-out! Oh, wow, we have got some serious stuff to talk about, my friend.” He removed the gun from my neck and extended his hand. “Daniel Rankin.”
I shook it, which was a bit difficult since my hand was numb from the cold. “Nice to meet you.”
Daniel pointed to the other man, who was still holding Roger. “That’s Curtwood Foster.” Curtwood didn’t react to the introduction.
“And what’s up with Roger here?” asked Daniel. “He didn’t know about you, did he?”
I hurriedly tried to come up with a way to get Roger out of this, but how could I explain away the handcuffs? “Not a thing.”
“That is so cool! Foster, put him in the van.”
I avoided looking at Roger while Foster dragged him toward a parked black van. If I was going to be the Headhunter, I couldn’t let any guilt show in my eyes. As it was, I could feel my legs trembling a bit, and my stomach acids were flowing like Niagara Falls. Things were without a doubt getting out of control, but any heroics at this point would just get both of us shot. I had to keep playing this out
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