(No "action" in this one, FYI)
Another naked guy, wandering down the road...
They'd checked every deserted building they knew about, Tucker and the other deputies. But here we go again, he thought sourly. Third freak in as many years.
He went out to pick up the weirdo. Wait, maybe that was a little harsh. The first one had been sorta sad. But Tucker went by the book. He was a pro. That poor nerd ended up in the state mental hospital... and later word came back that he "escaped" after a couple days. But the second guy was an ex-con - he seemed like a cool guy. Levelheaded enough, under less bizarre circumstances. He told the same bizarre story.
Months of forced fun.
It was on the cool side to be wandering around without any clothes. Tucker scanned the side of the road, in the same general area where the last -
A-ha.
He pulled alongside. It took the guy a while to look over. Frat boy gone bad, Tucker thought. Maybe five years younger than me. Serious muscles - but even the geek, that first one, had been cut - and tattoos everywhere. Glassy eyes, just plodding along slowly.
Tucker rolled down the window. Still no reaction from the whack-job.
"Hey," he barked.
After a couple seconds, the kid's head finally turned. Yup. He was scrambled...
"Stop," Tucker said, finding it hard to conceal his impatience. He threw the car into "park" and popped the trunk release. The naked guy finally stopped moving. Recognition was starting to break through the fog, there.
Tucker snagged a blanket and walked around to where the guy was standing.
"Are you a cop?" the freak whispered.
Uniform, cop car - big clues in sight. But something in that lost-little-kid tone sorta melted Tucker. The dude didn't ask for this shit. "I am. County sheriff," he said, draping the blanket over the other guy's shoulders. "And I'm real, to answer your next question."
That took a few seconds to sink in. Then the guy's eyes widened. "You know? About... what happens th-"
"Whoa, there. Yeah. You're not the first - We don't know, uh, how it happens," he said quickly, "or why, exactly." Tucker opened the passenger-side door of his cruiser. The front one. With the new rifle-locks there wasn't much a head-case could fuck up before Tucker could stop 'em, and anyway the other guys he'd found like this were too dazed and worn out to put up any kind of a fight.
"Son of a bitch," the kid sighed, turning toward the car.
"Yeah."
As soon as they were rolling, Tucker called in and said he made contact, no EMS needed. The he pulled out his smokes and handed 'em over. Technically it was against the rules to smoke in the car, but the sheriff allowed 'em some leeway - especially in cases like this. So he got the little thrill of taking the cigarettes back after the guy had one going and firing up one himself, right there, even though it wasn't really allowed.
These dudes always needed a smoke something fierce. Every time. The first one babbled about how he'd never smoked a whole cigarette until "it" caught him. This kid took another determined drag and nodded slowly.
"You up for some food?" Tucker said kindly.
The other guy squinted over at him. Tears were filling his eyes.
Before Tucker could reach for the little pack of tissues that were shoved somewhere in the seat-back pouch, his passenger rocked back... and toughened up. Apparently he preferred to do his crying later. That gave Tucker a vague sense of admiration. No doubt he'd gone through a lot.
"Uh... yeah," the dude said.
"I know this diner, just down the road. If you promise to behave yourself I'll park around the side and go in, pick up a burger. Or ham and eggs. But only if you don't touch anything while I'm in there," Tucker said seriously.
"Alright. I promise."
"Good."
"A cheeseburger would be... great," the kid rasped. His voice was already showing signs of coming back - if you knew what to listen for. Hell of a thing, Tucker thought.
He got his cell phone out and called in to Bev's, two cheeseburgers, two coffees. Looking over at the guy, who sat there shaking, Tucker added a large milk and a piece of apple pie. They were only about three miles away from the restaurant, and instead of forcing more conversation they just smoked.
Pulling in, Tucker shut off the car and took the keys out. Looking over at his passenger, he gave him a stare and jabbed his index finger toward him.
The kid knew exactly what that meant. "I won't touch anything," he said, leaning back.
"And don't run off, neither. I mean it."
He talked to Bev's middle daughter for a couple minutes until the order was ready. Then, with a cardboard drink-holder in one hand and the bag in the other, Tucker hurried back outside. The kid hadn't moved - except to pull the blanket a little tighter. Tucker set the drinks on the car roof and jingled his gear-belt, on purpose, because that ex-con sure hadn't liked any surprises. But this boy didn't seem as jumpy. Tucker got in and closed the door, set the drinks on the dash and pulled out a cheeseburger...
Before long, the dude's appetite returned. As he plowed through both burgers, Tucker just drank his coffee and idly watched the parking lot. Sun was going down.
They didn't talk until the pie was gone and both had another smoke going.
"Now what?" the guy said.
"I'm supposed to take you into the station," Tucker drawled. Then he waited.
"But?"
He took a drag, mainly so he wouldn't sigh out loud. "You broke the law. Indecent exposure. That won't stick, of course, so don't worry about it. We gotta make sure you're not mentally ill. Nuts. A danger to yourself or others, y'know?" The kid nodded slowly. "If you're indigent - means, you don't have any money - I can set you up with the church in town."
"I got money," the guy said quickly. "My sister. All it'll take is a phone call."
After a couple seconds Tucker handed over his cell phone.
The dude was in luck - his sister was home, and apparently she recognized him despite the hoarse voice. When the call reached a certain point, Tucker wasn't surprised to see the guy look over at him. "Uh..."
"This diner is a Western Union pickup point," he told the kid quietly. "Bev's Diner, in Portertown."
Nodding, the guy relayed the information to his sister...
Tucker made a decision and started the car. His passenger looked over at him with curiosity. "Clothes," Tucker whispered... and after a second the guy nodded.
A couple of the churches had - naaah, screw it. They were only about six miles from Tucker's house.
The phone call was over within a couple more minutes, and the guy handed the cell phone back. "I owe you bigtime," he said.
"Aaaah," Tucker replied. "You've been through a rough patch. It's over now."
"I wanna pay you for the, uh, clothes. The burgers."
"Okay," Tucker grinned. "If the money shows up, you got a deal."
The kid was studying him. "Do you really know... what happened?"
"To you?"
"Yeah."
"The other guys I've picked up talked about... tickling. Nonstop," Tucker said quietly, making sure not to look over.
The kid shivered real big. Yeah. "Gettin' jerked off, tattooed. Aw, this is fuckin' insane!"
"You're free now," the deputy said. "I didn't really believe the first guy. Who would? But the second one was as steady as they come. Tough son of a bitch, too. He told the same story. Said they worked him over for fourteen, fifteen months... So the sheriff had us look all over for the damn place. Really."
"It's clever."
That was another thing - these freaks always talked about "it", never "they" or "he". Tucker nodded silently.
Neither of 'em said anything more until the engine was shut off. The bushes really needed trimming, but the only time he ever thought about 'em was when he got home from work...
"Out," he ordered the smelly dude.
"Okay."
He followed Tucker inside, and leaned against the bedroom wall.
"This shirt's too small for me," Tucker said, digging in his dresser. He grabbed a pair of jeans that were old, and socks, a pair of boxers with hearts all over 'em from way back when Denise was still around - and decided to give up the yuppie deck-shoes he never wore anyway. Oh, yeah, and that hoodie with the big rip alongside the hood...
Tossing everything on the bed, he cocked his thumb toward the bathroom. "Go."
"You're really a lifesaver."
"Spare towels are under the sink. Just don't dawdle in the shower. The hot water tank's pretty small."
"I won't -"
"What's your name?" Tucker interrupted.
"Isaac."
"Shoulda asked that a lot earlier," he muttered. "Isaac, you need to take a shower. Trust me."
"Oh. Okay."
"I'm gonna stand right out here, nothing personal."
Nodding, Isaac picked up the boxers and went into the bathroom.
When he came back out - hair all wet, smelling a whole lot better - there was less of that spacey weirdness in his face. Isaac even moved... well, normally. He didn't waste any time getting dressed. Tucker didn't watch or anything, but he did catch a glimpse. Fuckin' shitload of tattoos. Gloves, feathers, flames. Just like the other nature-boys.
Tying the last shoelace, he looked up at Tucker and gave him a nod. Much more alert, and ready to get the hell out of here. Away. That made sense.
The kid smoked nonstop as they drove back to Bev's.
The money was there, waiting for him, because he came back out the door shoving a couple packs of cigarettes into his pockets. Testing a disposable lighter, Isaac walked around to the passenger-side door again.
Tucker shook his head and got out. They met around back, near the trunk.
Isaac handed Tucker a twenty-dollar bill. After a second of studying the kid, he took it... "You got enough, right? Money?"
"One-sixty left," Isaac nodded.
"Okay. Here's the deal." Tucker looked around again, enjoying the power a little bit. The dude was hanging on his next word - but Deputy Tucker had done right by him, dammit. "I don't get the impression that you're gonna go off on anybody. Or hurt yourself. Am I right?"
"Absolutely right," the kid answered. "Unless it was about to grab me again, right now."
Tucker nodded and shook a cigarette out of his pack. "Makes sense to me. I got some latitude, here, because of what happened to the first guy like you. A geek. I mean, he was buffed out after - Well, we went by the book and he got shipped off to Merris. That's the... uh, booby hatch. State-run. Just for observation, they told us - but he disappeared. Escaped right out from under their noses. Second or third day, and poof." He paused to light up. "I sorta wondered if he didn't, uh, end up back in a place like you just g-"
"Fuckin' hell," Isaac whispered.
"Yeah. You got it. And the sheriff's got leeway in cases like this. He don't believe everything he hears... but there's something weird goin' on. If you got money, you're not a vagrant." Tucker peeked at his cell phone. "And it just so happens that there's a Greyhound stopping here in a little under an hour."
"West?"
"Does it matter?"
The kid grinned. Sort of a sour expression. "Good point."
"Headin' for Pueblo, actually." Isaac figured out that was indeed west of where they stood, and it seemed to cheer him up some. "If you're not needing medical attention, and you're not gonna do anything stupid and get me in trouble -"
"I can't thank you enough," the dude said, nodding. He stuck his hand out.
Tucker shook it. "Congrats. On getting away, or whatever."
"I've been waiting for this night," and then he choked up, getting all teary-eyed again.
"Well, it got here. Whup," and the deputy fished out one of his business cards. "You can have this. Just for... whatever."
"I really appreciate it."
"Get on home, now," Tucker said, sliding back into his car.
He went to the station and told Hace and Weasel all about it. Hace was in charge, and he just shook his head. Didn't buy it - never had.
"You're a fuckin' pushover. Still," he told Tucker.
"Yeah, well..."
He filled out his reports and sat around with Weasel for a half-hour, shooting the shit until he was off-duty. Weasel wasn't all skeptical. Then he gave Bev's daughter a shout, just to make sure Isaac had gotten on the bus okay.
Tucker changed into his civvies and drove home.
Firing up a new smoke, he walked toward the cellar - caught himself, mumbled "aw, shit..." and headed for his spare bedroom instead.
It was quiet in there, and dark. Cleaned up and ready for him. Other than some faint odors, there was no sign of anybody spending a long fuckin' time in there... until just a few hours before.
"Did I do alright?" he said.
A light clicked on - illuminating the leather sling. Brushes and those little bowls of oil were already set. Oh, fuck, he thought weakly. Not the brushes right off!
Behind him, the door slammed. One lock after another sealed his fate...
But the first leather glove gave him a thumbs-up, so Tucker relaxed - and even started to smile as the magic hands started pulling his clothes off. He was used to this dungeon, alright. He hated having to crawl upstairs when it was time to get his act together and go on-duty.
Some of the brushes were floating off the table already. That one gag which looked sorta like a horse's bit and bridle was floating up to his mouth, so he hurried to get in one last drag while he still could.
21mar2006