“You might not be close enough to the danger,” I said. “Try going down a couple more steps and see if that does anything.”
Lula crept halfway down the stairs and stopped.
“Now what?” I asked her.
“I hear something,” Lula whispered. “It’s like someone’s singing the Snow White song. Hi ho hi ho, it’s off to work we go. Only it’s muffled so I can barely hear it, and it doesn’t sound like there’s a lot of dwarfs singing it. I think I’m only hearing one dwarf.”
I moved next to Lula and listened. “You’re right,” I said. “Someone’s singing the Seven Dwarfs’ song. It’s coming from somewhere in the basement.”
I squeezed past Lula and went to the bottom of the stairs. The singing was coming from somewhere deep in the bowels of the basement room. The lighting was dim, and I had to weave my way around discarded hotel furniture, crates of plumbing fixtures, storage tanks filled with God-knows-what, water heaters, a furnace that looked like it belonged in a crematorium, and bales of what I’m pretty sure was weed. I inched around a stack of boxes labeled EXPLOSIVES. No other information given. A small area had been cleared beyond the explosives. The floor of the area was littered with empty bags of chips, what looked like crushed Cheetos, crumpled fast-food burger wrappers, and french fry containers. A card table and a folding chair had been set in the middle of the area. The table was lit by a single, bare, overhead lightbulb. A man was hunched over the table. His back was to me, and he was singing the Seven Dwarfs’ song, oblivious to the fact that I was standing a short distance behind him.
The man was Lou Salgusta, and he was laboring over his torture tools, oiling and sharpening blades and adjusting tension on pliers and clippers. I’d seen those tools not so long ago when he’d kidnapped Grandma and me.
I had an instant gut reaction of revulsion so strong it sickened my stomach. I heard Lula suck in air behind me, and I suspected she was in a similar state. My mind was telling me to bolt and run, but my body was frozen in place by the horror in front of me.
Salgusta obviously sensed our presence because he turned in his chair and calmly stared at us.
“Unexpected visitors,” he said. “How convenient. I have a new knife that I believe will be superior at flaying the skin off a human being. Who would like to be my first test case? It might be uncomfortable in the beginning, but eventually I believe the brain will shut down from the trauma.”
Lula gagged and vomited up a half-digested Boston creme donut.
I jumped away in time to miss most of the splatter and worked at mustering some bravado.
“I thought you were retired,” I said to Salgusta. “Have you decided to take on another job?”
“I’m getting these ready for you and your granny,” he said. “As you know, she has something I want.”
“We’ve already been through this,” I said. “Grandma doesn’t have what you want.”
“Then she knows where to find it. And if she’s forgotten, I’m going to help her remember.”
“I need a wet wipe,” Lula said, searching through her purse. “I know I got one in here somewhere.”
Salgusta grabbed one of his knives, and before I could react, he threw it at Lula and impaled her purse.
“Hey!” Lula said. “What the heck is wrong with you? You stuck a knife in my handbag. This here’s
an original Louis Vuitton knockoff.”
“Sorry,” Salgusta said. “I was aiming at your heart, but you moved at the last minute.” He picked up another knife. “Let’s see if I can be more accurate this time.”
Lula hauled her gun out of her purse and aimed it at Salgusta. Her eyes were practically popping out of her head and her gun hand was shaking. “Put the knife down, or I’ll blow a hole in your head,” she said.
Salgusta threw the knife at Lula, and Lula fired off a bunch of shots at Salgusta. The knife missed Lula’s head but sliced into her massive puff ball of curls. All of her shots missed Salgusta.
I didn’t have a knife or a gun, so I ducked behind a couple of bales of weed. “Everyone stop!” I yelled. “Just stop!”
Salgusta grabbed a flamethrower he had leaning against the card table and blasted a stream of fire at me. It missed me but it hit the stack of weed, and whoooosh, the weed went up in flames. The burning bales crackled and popped, and sparks shot out, setting off satellite fires. A line of fire licked along the floor toward Salgusta. I grabbed Lula by her purse strap and yanked her toward the stairs.
“Time to go!” I yelled.
“Fuckin’ A,” Lula said, scrambling after me.
We reached the stairs and there was a series of small explosions. We were halfway up the stairs when the big one blew, shaking the building. KABLAAAAM!
We stumbled into the hall and saw that smoke and flames were billowing out of the small lobby area. I opened the nearest bedroom door, and Lula and I ran in, climbed out the window, and dropped to the sidewalk.
Andy, two naked old men, and three women in ho clothes were standing in the middle of the road, mouths open, eyes wide. One of the men had blood streaming from a gash in his forehead. Sirens were wailing a couple blocks away and a Trenton PD car angled to a stop at the curb. A second car followed.