The rain ran thickly down the windshield, reducing the view of the diner across the road to a splotch of glowing colors. A strong gust of wind drove a few heavy drops through the open side window and onto his lap and Carlton threw a glance at his partner. �Hey, Davis, when were you going to quit smoking again?�
The rail-thin woman in the dark business suit and dishwater blonde hair looked at him with an arched eyebrow. �When you stop reading those weird Japanese comic books.� She took a deep drag from the cigarillo and then turned her face toward the window and blew the smoke out into the rain-filled darkness. �We all have our quirks and vices.�
Carlton grinned and twitched the knob for the windshield wipers. The diner became visible again, the neon letters, �Pete�s Coffee Stop,� glowing brightly on the roof against the black forest. The windows along the building�s front were blurred by condensation created by the difference between the cozy temperature inside and the chill of the late winter night outside. �I could use a cup of mob-sponsored coffee. Why do we have to sit out here again?�
�You�re just a million lame questions a minute this evening,� Davis replied with a grin. The witty comment that was to follow died on her lips, however, as she stiffened in her seat. �Do you hear that? Did Hal start up the car?�
Carlton leaned forward across the steering wheel and twitched the windshield wipers again. The black Lexus they had trailed here an hour ago was still stilling between the gray Lincoln Pathfinder and the green Land Rover. The expensive vehicles stood out next to the battered Cheveys and old Hondas of the diner�s other customers, but �Little Joe� Albano had simple tastes and liked to meet new potential business associates in simple surroundings.
�It sounds like a chainsaw,� Carlton replied. He rolled down the window on his side of the car. The sound was coming from the direction of the diner. It was muted, but it was definitely some sort of power tool. �Or maybe a hedge-trimmer. What kind of nut would be working in the forest in weather like this?�
There was a flurry of movement behind the misted diner windows. Then, there was the sound of another power tool starting up. A truck drove by, momentarily hiding the diner from view. When Carlton could again see the structure, a dark slash had appeared on the diner windows, like if mud had been spattered across them. Shrieks mingled with the sound of the power tools, followed by a single gunshot.
�Shit!� Davis threw open her door and starting running for the diner. Carlton was a few steps behind her, splashing through the puddles on the highway. Hal, �Little Joe�s� massive driver and bodyguard was already out of the Lexus and bounding toward the front of the diner, his chrome-plated .45 in hand.
�Federal agent!� Carlton shouted, drawing his own 9mm automatic. �Drop your weapon!�
Hal ignored the command, tearing open the door to the diner instead, but then stumbled back away from the opening as he fired repeatedly into the room beyond. Carlton cursed as he and Davis both took cover behind one of the parked cars. Davis flicked her pistol off safety and aimed it at Hal, as the man stumbled back another few steps. He turned toward them, lowing his gun.
Davis gasped. �Jesus Christ.�
A hedge-trimmer was imbedded in Hal�s chest. Blood was gushing from the wound and his mouth. His head started to loll and his knees buckled as his body realized it was dead.
�Jesus fucking Christ!� Davis leapt up and ran toward the diner.
�Davis,� Carlton cried, following. �Wait! We should��
One of the windows shattered as a body came flying through it, arms flailing wildly. Davis and Carlton both froze in their tracks, both noticing to their horror that the body had neither head nor pelvis. Carlton struggled to resist his body�s and mind�s desire to purge the content of his stomach in response to the gory image filling his vision and the smell of death assaulting his nose, as he and Davis simultaneously looked toward the diner.
There, looming in the widow-frame was a massive hulk of a man that stood at least seven feet tall. A strangely lopsided head�one side seemed flatter than the other, and the man-beast�s bulging eyes seemed off-center in his twisted face--sat atop a bullish neck that rose from broad shoulders. Arms roped with massive muscles and pulsing blood veins, arms thicker than Carlton�s thighs, stretched toward broad hands. In one was a gore-covered chainsaw that revved in response to twitches of the massive fingers on its handle, and in the other dangled a severed leg from which blood was still spurting. He was dressed in a blood-soaked white cotton tank top that was stretched to the point of tearing by his massive chest and black trousers.
�Federal,� Davis whispered, �agent. Freeze.�
�There�s a new sheriff in town!� the giant roared�or did he? Carlton didn�t notice his lips move, yet his words seemed to slam against the eardrums as though they were being bellowed from an inch away and on both sides of his head. There was also a pounding inside his skull, a pounding like Carlton hadn�t experienced since the last drinking binge, the one that had caused him to give up booze once and for all. He staggered a few steps under this strange aural assault and then irrevocably lost control of his insides and started to vomit. The roar continued: �Tell them all. Tell them all that they will leave or forfeit their lives as these have!�
Carlton dropped to his knees, vomiting uncontrollably. He heard Davis gagging next to him, and then he heard her gun fire once, twice.
�Tell them there�s a new sheriff in town!� the giant roared.
All Carlton could do was puke his guts out onto the rain-slicked pavement. Even after his stomach was empty, he continued to dry-heave and occasionally cough up some bile. The smell, the taste, and pounding in his head were making it impossible for him to regain control. Part of his mind was racing with panic, fearing for Davis and his own safety�there was a chainsaw-wielding freak who looked like he�d just stepped out of a B-movie not fifteen feet away and here he was completely defenseless. Was Davis even still alive?! She had fired her gun and was now gone from his peripheral vision! Whenever he tried turning his head or calling out, his insides cramped again and he was wracked with another series of gag reflexes and attempts at vomiting.
After what seemed like an eternity, he felt a hand on his shoulder and another on one of his arms. �Wash your mouth out,� he heard Davis say as she pressed a bottle of water into his hand.
Carlton took the bottle, but then started throwing up again. Davis started rubbing his neck and shoulders while supporting his forehead with her other hand. He finally managed to gulp some water and spit it out. After another couple of swigs and spits, he groaned, �The perp?�
�Gone. I hit him square between the eyes and he still kept yelling. Then he faded.�
�Is he still in there?�
�Hell if I know. I�m not going into check it out. I called the locals for back-up AND our people.�
Carlton glanced toward the diner, trying to avoid taking notice of the mangled torso. The only sounds he heard were that of the rain splashing on the pavement ad drumming on the cars. Further away, he could hear the traffic of the city, and, beyond that, approaching sirens. Using Davis for support, he got shakily to his feet. �If he�s still in there, he�s put the saw away.�
�I shot him in the FACE, Carlton. And it didn�t register.� Davis looked toward the broken window. �And he wasn�t alone. There was�is?�another huge fucker in there.�
Carlton looked at her. She was also shaking. Her face appeared to be as white as a sheet and her eyes were big as saucers. In the seven years they had been partners, he couldn�t remember her ever looking that scared. He drank and spit again. �Okay. We�ll wait for back-up.�
�And what�s more,� Davis said, softly, �when I called Central, they told me that this isn�t the only massacre tonight. A stakeout team said a visiting Yakuza man and his entourage were butchered in their condo around the same time Little Joe and the gang-bangers were getting whacked. Same M.O. Same level of carnage.�
Carlton felt his stomach lurch. He must have wobbled visibly, because Davis quickly put an arm around his waist and leaned against him to offer stability. �There�s a new sheriff in town,� he whispered.
Davis nodded.