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Going Dark(13)

By:James W. Hall


Marcus felt the slime on his hands and held up his right palm, puzzled.

“Up there to your left. Pull that branch to the side, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

As Marcus reached for the branch, Claude pulled his yellow insulated gloves from his pocket, put them on, and stooped for the jumper cables. “See what I’m telling you?”

“I don’t see anything.”

“You’re looking in the wrong direction.”

“Where?”

“Try down here, peckerhead.”

Marcus looked over his shoulder as Claude moved the clamps to the ladder, smiling up at the kid, enjoying this. Most fun he’d had in a while.

“You fucker. What’re you doing?”

“I see you’re packing your car, you and your girl are going to split.”

“What do you care what I do?”

“Oh, I care.”

“Who are you?” The kid was looking around for a clear path to jump, but the branches blocked him on every side.

“You took the feds’ offer, got out of jail free, now you’re sneaking off without completing your side of the bargain.”

“You’re with the feds?”

“Something like that.”

Claude squeezed open the jaws of the clamps, moved toward the ladder.

“Wait, wait. I can give you something. We can deal. Just let me down.”

“Yeah? What the hell could you give me, turd ball?”

“There’s somebody else.”

Claude held the jumper cables close to the ladder. He could feel the throb of voltage. “What’s that mean, somebody else?”

“Out on Prince Key. Somebody you don’t know about.”

“Another snitch?”

“That’s right. Let me down, I’ll tell you everything.”

“You’re lying.”

“He’s got a cell phone, he’s hidden it out there on the island. He calls some guy he knows at the FBI. Now let me go.”

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“It’s the truth. I swear.”

“What’s his name, this snitch? Which one is it?”

Bendell’s mouth was half-open, face slack. “You’ll let me down?”

“Sure, kid. Tell me the fucker’s name and you’re free to go.”

“Put those things away. Come on, man. Don’t do that.”

“What’s his name, this other spy? You’re two seconds from going dark.”

“The FBI guy he calls, his name is Sheffield. Frank, I think.”

“And the spy’s name?”

“I caught him talking on his phone and he admitted it. That’s why I’m bailing. This whole thing is fucked. The FBI is gonna crash the party big-time.”

“Who is it? Who was talking to the feds? His name, goddamn it.”

“I’m coming down now.”

“Not until I have a name.”

Bendell lurched, tried to shove the branches aside and jump. But, fuck that, Claude was too quick. He clamped one end of the jumper cable high up on one side of the ladder, the other clamp on the opposite side.

Some people had the wrong idea about aluminum. They thought it didn’t conduct electricity. But, no, aluminum was more conductive than copper compared by unit weight. True, it did tend to create an electrically resistive oxide inside certain connections, which could lead to heat cycling. Still, all in all, it was one of the most common metals used in high-voltage transmission lines, along with steel for reinforcement.

Up on the backyard pole the transformer flashed blue like a giant lightbulb exploding, and Marcus Bendell and his ponytail turned into a galvanic smoke bomb.

Not a pretty sight. His hands clutching the ladder, unable to let go, the current gripping him in place while his body bucked, and Claude guessed the kid’s internal organs were already starting to melt. The kid had turned into a giant human resistor making the amps skyrocket, the voltage trying to flow, all of it mingling in a perfect brew to poach Marcus from the inside out.

The young man was completing the circuit, helping the sizzle of current find its way to the ground the way all electricity ultimately wanted. A simple wish, to return to the earth. Everyone completed that circuit sooner or later.

In another two seconds, Bendell’s body broke loose from the aluminum and blew backward from the ladder in a dark, gagging cloud. The kid was dead quicker than if he’d taken a gunshot to the temple.

Claude stepped around the smoking remains and unclipped the cables from the ladder and dropped them in the grass. At this moment a light would be blinking on a control panel at the west Miami substation. In a few minutes phone calls from the neighbors would start coming in. They heard a loud pop. Their lights went off, TVs shut down, toaster won’t work.