A Dash of Madness: A Thriller Anthology

Copyright

Reformation copyright © 2013 by M. Irish Gardner

Mouse and Cat copyright © 2013 by Elizabeth Gilliland

Stunner copyright © 2013 by Sarah Hunter Hyatt

Five Humvees copyright © 2013 by Breck LeSueur

Morningside copyright © 2013 by F.M. Longo

Kissed a Snake copyright © 2013 by Ben Ireland

Fogo copyright © 2013 by David MacIver

Proxy copyright © 2013 by Tim Andrew

Published by Xchyler Publishing at Smashwords

ISBN (EPUB Version): 0989303551

ISBN-13 (EPUB Version): 978-0-9893035-5-2

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This is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in this story are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.

Xchyler Publishing

an imprint of Hamilton Springs Press, LLC

Penny Freeman, Editor-in-chief

www.xchylerpublishing.com

1st Edition: July, 2013

Cover and Interior Design by D. Robert Pease, walkingstickbooks.com

Edited by McKenna Gardner and Jessica Shen

Published in the United States of America

Xchyler Publishing

Anomaly. Abnormality. Deviation. Words that cause us to look outside ourselves and point fingers elsewhere. Them. They. Certainly, not us.

We define the average, the ordinary. We have lived within our respective minds for our entire lives; what a person says and does are the most natural things in the world. For that individual. But no two people are alike. That raises the question: what forms the foundation for a standardized normal?

Scientists were often ridiculed—condemned, even—for believing and defending such fallacies as a globular earth. The verity of their minds was then left in doubt. Until the proven truth became generally known, humanity walked a dangerous path of closed-mindedness, going so far as to call such scientific observations and calculations a creation of marvelous fiction.

Within the pages of this book are eight works of similar fiction—but could they possibly portray reality? They simply show examples of ambition, goodwill, duty, and reconciliation. However, when those with gnarled modes of reason and shattered paradigms strive for their commonplace goals, the results are often horrific, and disturb the rest of us. Yet, the shift from walking the worn and familiar path to wandering through the wilderness of mayhem can happen in an instant, and suddenly we become they.

It’s an easy, slippery slope, but not to worry. It’s one helluva fun ride.

You here to kill me? Todd asked, squinting against the harsh Arizona sun.

Whatever the burly, bearded man’s response, spoken from a few yards away, it went unheard as the prison guards swung the squawky chain-link gate back in place.

Todd clutched his belongings to his chest and waited, half tempted to ask the uniformed correctional officers for a get-in-jail-free card.

The brawny man cleared his throat. Are you Todd Jefferson?

Loud and clear that time.

Yes, but I’ll have you know—your brother, or cousin, or whoever he was to you, had it comin’.

I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, but if you want a ride outta here, I’m not gonna wait around for you to make up your mind. The man ambled away in his black leather boots, across Butte Avenue toward a vibrant-green Prius with the words Discount Cab printed across the side.

Hesitating for only a fraction of a second, Todd stepped off the curb to follow—right into oncoming traffic. A truck slammed on its breaks. The driver blared his horn and shouted muted obscenities from within the confines of his vehicle before zooming off.

Todd took a steadying breath. Time to wake up. You’re in the real world again, buddy.  He looked both ways, and joined the cabbie in his car, noting the slogan on the door, Green cabs for blue skies.

An environmentally conscious hatchet man. Great.

The driver turned around in his seat. Todd flinched but resisted blocking his face with his hands.

All right, the cabbie said, yesterday, some guy handed me enough fare to get you to his place, and said to give you this. Tossing an envelope to Todd, who fumbled to catch it, he added, I gotta say, you guys sure look a lot alike.

Todd nodded distractedly and slid his finger gently along the flap as the driver pulled onto the road.

Hey Bro,

Wish we could be together during your newfound freedom, but you know how life likes to throw curveballs. Here’s a big one for you. Some pretty major things have come up for me. I need to take care of them before I can get back to normal life, but I can’t let the most important things fall by the wayside while I’m gone.

You gotta fill in for me. As me. You remember all those games we used to play as kids, messing with people by switching places—teachers, Mom and Dad, and especially our friends, even our girlfriends later on.

I have my reasons for needing you to keep things on the down-low about it. You gotta trust me—I’m older . . . and those extra ten minutes do count. You’ve got tunnel vision from your stretch, so just play along. I won’t be gone long. If you try to explain things, it’s only gonna get messy. My letters have kept you in the loop—it’s all you’ll need to know. You can manage. You always do. Catch ya on the flip side.

Shawn

Todd dropped his hands to his lap and peered out the windows as the last residences of Florence flew by. Seven years had been a long time away, but he only had twenty-six years under his belt. The thought of his new life ahead made him smile.

What a weird way to get it started.

He ran his hand through his recently cut, sandy hair. It’d be tough to know what to expect when he reached Shawn’s house in Chandler, an hour away.

After eyeing the driver for the eighth time, Todd concluded he was safe. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the spring sun on the back of his head, and the air conditioner aimed at his face.

When the cabbie pulled into a long driveway, Todd did a double-take at the house—if it could even be called that. Shawn’s implications that he and Katie had done well for themselves were quite the understatement. Mature mesquites lined the stone drive, shading the approach to a vast, southwestern spread.

The driver jolted to a stop at the front entryway. Todd stepped out with his cinch-bag, felt for his wallet, and realized he wasn’t carrying one. He rolled his eyes—old habits die hard.

The hefty chauffeur shook his head. No worries. Your buddy included a tip. He scanned Todd from head to toe. Good luck, man.

Todd watched as the hybrid pulled away, unsure what to do next. A bead of sweat formed at his temple. Rubbing his shirt sleeve over it, he walked up the steps, pushed the little pearl-colored button surrounded by burnt-orange stucco, and wished his brother had been at the gates to pick him up.

A short Latina woman opened the door, peering at him in confusion.

Mr. Jefferson, what are you doing out here? Why did you ring the doorbell?

Todd smiled, scratching the back of his neck where another drop of sweat tickled his skin. You must think I’m my brother—happens all the time. I’m Todd. Has Shawn returned yet?

She blinked twice. Why don’t you come inside? I’ll get you a drink. And Mrs. Jefferson.

Oh. Great. Yeah, that’d be fine. Todd wiped off his shoes on the oversized mat and entered the massive house. The maid took his bag and started to walk away. 

From around a decorative column came the tick-tack of high heels upon tile. Rita? Why is Shawn’s car still in the gar—

Katie Jefferson stopped at the edge of the entry hall. What are you still doing home? Her spiraled, brown curls danced with her movement to check her watch. Your meeting is in forty-five minutes. I thought you’d already left this morning!

Todd stared at his sister-in-law. It was the first time they had met. She’d never visited him in prison, but the details he received from Shawn’s letters had forced a great number of pleasant images into his mind. In person, she was more than a sight for sore eyes. He felt his jaw go slack while her crystal-blue, perplexed gaze stared at his lack of response.

Hello? She closed the gap between them and gripped his upper arms. An involuntary twitch shot through his right bicep. Shawn, are you okay? Where have you been?

Todd inhaled her scent, and, immediately regretting the action, stepped back. Sorry, I— His stomach felt on fire with sudden nerves. Sorry. I’m Todd, Shawn’s brother. He mentioned I would be stopping by today, right? You must be Katie.

Her eyelids lowered to half-mast and the sides of her cheeks tightened. I must be, mustn’t I? She glanced at the hall console table beside them, went and grabbed a sleek briefcase, and gently shoved it against Todd’s chest. She smiled a wicked grin. It’s a dirty job, being me, but somebody’s gotta do it. She leaned forward, and pressed her pouty lips seductively against his.

Todd’s eyes bulged and he dropped the case between them. The little maid discreetly disappeared from the room. Katie took a step back, twisted sideways, and bent over to pick up his briefcase, purposefully providing an eyeful on the way down. She slowly straightened up. A very dirty job. With her hair flipped back over her shoulder, she held out her offering.

Todd, still wide-eyed, cautiously wrapped his hand around its handle.

You’ll need to pick up the dry cleaning on your way in, his sister-in-law said, eyeing his jeans and t-shirt. I have an initial client evaluation in ten minutes, so I gotta scoot. Have a nice day, honey! She turned and disappeared down the corridor.

His feet felt like boulders cemented to the tile floor. What the hell kind of sick joke is this? After a minute, the maid returned. She surveyed him warily, gently tucked a set of keys into the briefcase’s side pocket, and handed Todd two fingers of whiskey. He snapped out of his trance at the cool touch of glass against his hand. Without moving his head, he glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow.

It’s Rita, right?

She nodded. You gonna be okay today, Mr. Jefferson?

Todd breathed in deep. He certainly hoped so. He tossed back the drink, holding the burn as it cascaded down his throat. Finally, he exhaled. And coughed. It’d been a while.

I will now, Rita. I will now. He turned toward the door, but spun back around in one smooth movement. Sorry, where’s the garage?

~*~

Nothing . . . worse . . . than . . . getting dressed, Todd grunted, yanking on his brother’s suit pants, in a damn car!

Shawn’s GPS had shown his work location as a frequented spot in the metropolitan monstrosity. Todd shoved his shirttails into the waist and zipped up. At least they were still the same size, he and his brother. Marriage must have him burning the same amount of calories as incarceration. Todd’s mind flashed with a sudden image of marital exercise with Katie. Son of a—

Shawn? The muffled sound accompanied a light tapping on the window of his brother’s Bimmer M6 Gran Coupe. Todd jumped at the noise, then powered down the darkly tinted window to see a petite blonde in business attire standing a few steps away.

I thought I saw someone in there. You coming in? The young woman leaned forward, peering into the darkness augmented by the parking garage. Todd scrambled to button his pants.

I’ll be right in. Go ahead, I’ll . . . be right in. You are such an idiot!

She smirked and smoothly walked away, her pencil skirt accenting her curves.

What is wrong with me? Todd hit his palms against his head. He growled and finished dressing, grateful that he’d entered prison wearing decent black loafers with his jeans seven years prior. They’d certainly be out of date, but they were better than a pair of white sneakers with a charcoal, pinstripe—he checked the tags—Italian-made suit. Seriously, Shawn?

He jumped out of the car, slammed the door shut, which made a delicious thud as it closed, and marched toward the elevators.

He knew Shawn worked for a company called The Coalition, a financial consulting firm in Tempe, which had found an insane amount of success over the four years Shawn had slaved away as its CFO.

Todd prayed he’d find his brother inside the faceless, four-story building, holding a Welcome Home banner.

He didn’t.

But Shawn’s name at the top of the lobby directory at least confirmed he had the right place. The elevator rocketed up, leaving Todd with a woozy stomach and a need to steady himself on the rail. Perhaps it was the whiskey finally taking hold . . . or one too many thoughts about what the hell Shawn was up to.

As soon as Todd stepped through the glass double doors on the fourth floor, he was bombarded by an array of people. First, the secretary, with her list of missed calls, missed meetings, and missed gift baskets. Then, Shawn’s right-hand man, Benny, with his report of that morning’s success stories.

Todd remembered Shawn’s description of Benny’s workload. Basically, he’d said in one of his letters, Benny does all the legwork. I just sign the contracts. Most of the time, I don’t have a clue of what he’s talking about, but he loves it. He’s one of those guys that hates the limelight, but gets off on seeing the numbers rise.

Todd followed Benny down the hallway, offices on one side, and chatter-filled cubicles on the other. Everything had a gray undertone—except Shawn’s office.

Todd spotted the name etched into the fogged glass, the lettering the only see-through area, and opened the door to a dark room. Flipping on the lights, he was startled to see the radical décor dominating the prime real estate—a corner office with wide windows overlooking the populated valley.

He tried to pull his eyes away from the chaotic colors to talk to Benny. Hey, uh, when was the last time you saw Sh—

He paused. His brother had warned him about trying to explain. The encounter with both wife and maid that morning had proven beyond awkward. Maybe playing along would be simpler. And result in fewer make-out sessions. When did you and I talk last?

Are you asking about the Santiago case? Because I finished up with the report and it’s on your desk.

Todd stared at Benny, knowing he unsuccessfully hid a blank expression.

 . . . Which you asked me to do last night.

Todd nodded. Right. That’s what I was looking for. I . . . couldn’t remember. Thanks.

Shawn’s coworker cocked his head to the side. Good luck at the meeting, Mr. Jefferson.

Todd closed the door behind Benny as he left the office. He wanted to get a good look around, but according to his sister-in-law, and his brother’s coworkers, he was about to receive company. Nothing would be worse than looking a fool when they arrived.

Shawn’s desk, with its assortment of Rubik’s cubes surrounding the edges, created a protective wall around the single file sitting on top. Picking it up gingerly with thumb and forefinger, Todd figured he may as well take a peek. Page after page contained hundreds of numbers, percentages, acronyms, and red and black font.

Rubbing his temples, he groaned. The few accounting classes he had taken had been through a prison program or something. He couldn’t remember the name of the educational distance learning courses; most of his prison time was a blur anyway. Just like the figures in the file.

He took a deep breath. A gentle knock sounded at the office door, the only neutral element in a sea of vibrancy. Mr. Jefferson, Miguel Santiago and his associates are here to see you.

Fantastic, he mumbled. Come in!

The door opened; Santiago and two other men in suits walked straight for him. Welcome, Mr. Santiago! Nice to see you . . . again? Moron! He shook their hands and gestured for them to sit down in the fuchsia chairs opposite his desk.

Santiago took a seat and stared daggers at the secretary until she closed the door behind her. Santiago’s associates had remained standing, their hands clasped behind their backs. One had a black ponytail, the other, acne scars visible from across the room.

Let’s get to business, Mr. Jefferson. Time is not something I am willing to waste. Do you know why I am here?

Ah, safe question. Why don’t you fill me in?

Santiago sneered. "How ‘bout I tell you what I’ll fill you with if you don’t tell me what I wanna hear. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. He put both fists on the edge of the desk as he leaned toward Todd, knocking a few cubes aside. I’m gonna take the bones of all your family and friends, and shove them down your throat until they poke out the other side. Then I’m gonna toss you over the side of the Santa Lucia when I am far into international waters. That way, if they find your remains, they won’t know what the hell to do with your sorry carcass."

Todd swallowed. So far, it had been a terrific day. Why— his voice cracked. Seriously? He cleared his throat. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll discuss whatever it is that seems to be bothering you.

Santiago’s dark eyes narrowed as he disregarded the advice and placed his thumbs in his jacket pockets. Someone is stealing from me, Mr. Jefferson, and I think it’s you.

Todd took a deep breath. Oh.

The man approached the window and stared out at the bustle below. Without meeting Todd’s eye, he gestured over his shoulder to Ponytail, who looked more and more like an actual hatchet man every second. This is Jesus, he said, the ‘j’ sounding like a guttural ‘h.’ He’s a prophet, just like Jerusalem’s Jesus, and knows, just like God above, whether an imbecile is lying or not.

Ponytail stepped forward, and with one swift move, grabbed Todd by the back of the neck and slammed the side of his face down onto the desk. Todd’s eyes clamped shut on impact—struggling for a second before realizing it was hopeless. Oh, this is happening . . .

Santiago sauntered across to the other side of the office and pulled out his cell phone. "What have you done with my money, manito muerto?"

The urge to swallow was overpowering, but Todd’s throat felt so dry and useless. He lost sight of Santiago as he paced back to the window.

Have you taken even one peso from my pocket and jammed it in your greedy wallet? he asked calmly. The phone beeped and dinged. Then a quiet flow of music began. Is that Angry Birds?

Santiago quickly turned down the sound and returned within Todd’s view. "Tell me now, Mr. Jefferson, why am I missing six million dollars?"

Todd whimpered and tried to pull in a breath, but Ponytail was heavy against his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pockface’s silhouette near the door, keeping watch through the letters in Shawn’s name.

I— Todd struggled to speak. Santiago nodded once at Ponytail, who let up just an inch. "I can tell you that I never once thought of taking your money. Never. Not once, he grunted. I swear I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m sure your records will . . . ergh . . . reflect everything that has happened with your accounts."

Santiago glanced up at Ponytail’s face. Whatever showed there must have communicated that Todd’s statement rang true.

Santiago walked away, Ponytail released him, and Todd fell back into his chair. Without meeting any glares aimed his way, he clasped his chest with one hand to calm his wildly pounding heart, and clung to the blue, spiraled tips of the arm rest with the other. Finally, he plastered on a grimace, straightened his tie, and took a few grateful breaths that he hadn’t pissed himself. Prison had toughened him up.

I’m sorry this meeting had to go down that way, Santiago said as he settled back into his chair. I’m sure you understand why I needed to figure out who I could trust, and who I should truss. I’m glad, for your sake, that Jesus has confirmed the truth. His smirk shifted into a smile. Now, let’s go over my report and find that six million.

Todd finagled his way through the rest of the meeting, showing the influx of income and source of expenses, and where the losses could be accounted for . . . he thought. They all acted as if the first five minutes of the encounter hadn’t even happened. He hardly knew what flowed from his mouth, but it felt more natural toward the end. His ability to adapt fed his will to make it through the meeting without breaking down in tears.

At the end, he shook hands with the men and held the door open while they exited. He slammed it shut and leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the hostile, but meticulously-spaced, abstract artwork hanging on the office wall. I’m gonna kill you, Shawn.

A second later, the door opened again, without a knock. A slender hand reached through the gap and flipped the light switch off next to Todd’s shoulder, leaving him in the natural light filtering through the tinted windows.

Wha—?

Shhh, a silky voice sounded as long, shapely legs, slipped into the room, followed by the rest of the smoking hot blonde Todd had seen earlier in the parking garage. He took a step back to put some distance between the two of them. She closed the gap instantly, trapping him between her and the wall.

How did your meeting go? she asked, her voice more sultry than before. She leaned in, using the tips of her fake nails against his chest to tip him back. He furrowed his eyebrows. Really, Shawn? This garbage?

It sounded a bit rough in here . . . and I know you like it rough. Her nails turned into claws as she dug into both trapezius muscles to pull him closer.

Disgusted, he yanked his head away from her searching lips. He had a wife at home! No, Shawn did! Who is this tramp?

He slipped sideways, and the blonde stumbled clumsily.

Hey! What’s your problem? she whined. I just wanted to check on you!

Yeah, I’ll bet! Get out. No. Better yet, I’ll get out. He grabbed Shawn’s briefcase and flung open the door, leaving the temptress behind in a state of disbelief.

He kept his head down as he barreled toward the elevator. Treating the button like it was his only lifeline, he jabbed it until the arrow at the top finally dinged. Hopping in, he waited to breathe until the doors had closed, shutting out the faces of stunned employees.

Todd glared at his reflection in the brass interior. Time for answers, Shawn.

~*~

Shawn’s master bedroom was tidy, but that was likely because of Rita. Todd remembered how messy their room had been when they were young. Neither had really overcome it. The only reason for Todd’s current state of cleanliness was due to a lack of personal belongings, which reminded him of his own bag. He couldn’t remember what he’d had with him when he was locked up, so, finding it hanging in Shawn’s closet, he brought it to the elevated California King and dumped the contents onto the white duvet.

Half a box of Hot Tamales. A wristwatch with a dead battery. A generic, hooded sweatshirt and a wallet chain with no wallet. Where was his wallet? He surveyed the room and spotted an assortment of items on top of a tall, cherry wood dresser. Some earrings of Katie’s, a few pictures of Shawn and Katie on vacation—somewhere in Tuscany by the looks of it—a prescription bottle, and a wallet. His own wallet.

Hey, he mused. He opened the brown, leather sides and stared at Shawn’s name and DMV picture on the license. It was crazy how easily they could tell each other apart, given that not even a spouse could. Some of it was expression. Some of it was gut instinct. Mostly, it was the difference of looking at your face in the mirror versus a photograph. You always see the reflected image of yourself in the mirror, so when you see a photograph, it tends to look a little different.

It was a bit endearing for Shawn to miss Todd enough to use his wallet as a constant reminder. He smiled, then saw that the cash section held several hundred dollar bills, a couple twenties, and a few fives and ones. The smile left. Man, how would it be?

He put his wallet back. Why would Shawn leave without a wallet or identification? Todd hoped he wasn’t in serious trouble. The letter had indicated he could take care of everything in a short amount of time. He’d probably be back later that evening—and boy, would Todd have some questions for him.

Todd walked out of the room, down the hallway to peek around. A guest bedroom—make that two, with a Jack-and-Jill bath between—a few decorated wall recesses; an empty nursery with only pastel yellow paint to identify it; a craft room, where piles of pictures lay scattered around a half completed scrapbook project; and a laundry room—and he had only covered a quarter of the upstairs.

He returned to the craft room and leaned over to inspect some of the pictures. Shawn and Katie’s wedding. Three years ago. Todd would’ve given anything to be there. They looked so happy, so excited about the possibilities of life.

Hey, you’re home early!

Todd jumped and spun around. Katie leaned against the doorway, sweat beading on her forehead and neck. Her workout top and spandex shorts were tight, leaving very little to the imagination of her natural figure. Todd looked away, embarrassed about the direction his thoughts galloped.

The room grew uncomfortably warm. "Uh, yeah. The meeting was interesting. I sure like my clients. They’ll keep me feeling young. Hey, I was wondering if maybe . . . we should renew . . . our vows, this time with my brother there so he can feel involved in everything."

Still at it from this morning, huh? C’mere, honey. She walked in, grabbed his hand and pulled his head down to her glistening chest, wrapped snugly in a push-up sports bra. Todd knew there was something he should do to stop her, but nothing came to mind. Nothing at all, once she began petting his head. You must be feeling a little left out. Need some attention? Some lovin’? Come help me stretch. He could hear the grin in her voice but found very little humor in the situation.

She vanished from beneath his head and he had to catch himself from falling forward. He followed her like a zombie toward their bedroom, until she stripped off the tank top and sports bra in one fluid movement. His legs suddenly carried him downstairs.

With a little searching, he found a dark den, where he poured himself a drink from the corner home bar. An oversized leather recliner next to a bookshelf wall looked inviting. He sat and pondered, with perhaps too tight a grip on the snifter of bourbon.

How many more hours can I take of this? He heard Katie calling for him upstairs. Well, not him. His brother. How many more minutes? None of this makes any sense. If I was that woman’s husband, I wouldn’t let another man within fifty feet of her, let alone invite my brother to take my place at her side for a while! Is he testing me? Is he crazy? Am I?

The hum of a distant vacuum echoed through the house. Rita. She could give him answers. House staff were supposed to keep things secret, right? And, they always knew more than they let on. At least, he thought so. He’d never met a real maid in his life until that morning. Shawn had built a life completely opposite to the one in which they’d been raised.

Todd and Shawn had grown up with parents who both worked and were rarely seen. They were put in daycare at an early age, and government-funded after-school programs that would take them all the way until bedtime. Sometimes a friend of the family or neighbor would pick them up and put them to bed. Sometimes, they didn’t even recognize the drivers. They’d just call out that they were there for Todd or Shawn and they’d head home with them.

Now, Shawn had a stunning home and wife, possibly a risky career but a well-paying one, and seemed to have all his ducks in a row—until this point. What had gone wrong?

Todd wandered around the downstairs until he found Rita vacuuming a plush rug in a sitting room. He didn’t want to startle her, so he simply unplugged the source of the noise. Rita flipped the switch and then looked back at the cord in Todd’s hand. She still jumped.

Oh, Mr. Jefferson! You scared me! What can I do for you? Ah, your color has returned from this morning. Actually, you look a little flushed. Are you okay?

Todd grinned. Yep. She was astute. Who wouldn’t be flushed after an encounter with Mrs. Jefferson?

Rita, did you see me leave this morning?

Yes, sir. Why?

Uh. Well, what did you see?

Did I do something wrong, Mr. Jefferson?

No, no! I just . . . misplaced something and am trying to retrace my steps.

Oh! You walked out this morning at five o’clock. I don’t know where you went. Just walked off!

And then I showed up again later this morning, with no phone calls, no messages, no nothing?

That’s right. What did you lose?

Maybe my mind, but that is yet to be determined.

Rita gave him a funny look. You are a strange man, Mr. Jefferson.

He turned and headed out the front door. You have no idea, he grumbled under his breath. He walked down the long driveway, appreciating the mesquites as the sun began