Surviving Stephanie Chapter 25

Note: Okay, so I realized she left her car at the dojo after I wrote this, and I'm too lazy to go back and fix it. If Janet can rename characters and kill them off more than once, I'm allowed. Lol. Sorry it took so long to update here, guys. Real life can get really in the way of fun stuff. Sigh.

Disclaimer: Ranger still belongs to Janet despite my best efforts to kidnap him. So does everyone else, except for Mac who technically belongs to someone else altogether, and maybe Jack who is sort of mine although he has a famous name, and Alyssa who I am not willing to claim b/c I don't want her running around my imagination any longer than necessary.

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No one was up when Ranger dropped me off, but the door wasn't locked so I let myself in and crawled onto the couch to sleep away my sorrows. The kiss Ranger had laid on me before I got out of the truck helped a lot with that, though. I could still feel his lips pressing against mine, and the back of my neck where his hand had rested was still warm. Yeesh. I wouldn't survive an entire night.

I woke up late the next morning, having passed out at some completely atrocious hour, and I'd been so deep in REM I'd even missed the daily live walk-though of Jerry Springer that was the morning bathroom rush. Now the house was quiet and I could hear Mrs. Plum and Grandma moving around upstairs. It sounded like they were arguing about something. Maybe if I was very quiet and didn't make any sudden moves they wouldn't notice I was gone until it was too late…

I grabbed the duffle bag, figuring I could change somewhere else, and started creeping toward the door. I opened it quickly and nearly screamed as someone's head popped into view. I had already stumbled back a step before I realized I was looking at a little old lady.

Mabel, it had to be. I opened the door and let her in.

"I just heard from Evelyn," she said. Yep, hello Mabel. "She's fine; staying with a friend, and she said not to worry." Her hand rested on her heart. "I feel so much better. And I felt better knowing you were looking for her. It gave me piece of mind. Thank you."

It gave me a Napoleonic sociopath. No thank you.

"Any time," I said smiling. One must respect one's elders. "Did she say where she was or who she was with?"

"No, she sounded rushed. There was a lot of background noise, like she was calling from a restaurant or store… why? There isn't anything wrong is there?" she asked, looking worried again.

"Nah, I just need to ask her about her landlord." The homicidal maniac…

"Oh," Mabel brightened. "Are you looking for a house?" Not from him.

"Maybe."

There was a message on my phone from Eddie the Cop, saying that the cleaning crew would be done with the apartment at noon and remarking that Joe was being an ass. I guessed he was still grumpy, and decided that I would probably be better off avoiding him for a good six to eight years. Eh, might as well go to the office and see if there was anything more appealing than Bender to catch.

"What's new?" I asked Connie as I walked in the door.

"Nada." She shrugged. "What about Bender?"

"He's all Vinnie's."

"Vinnie don't want him," Lula chimed in.

"It's not that!" Vinnie yelled from his office. "I got important things to do." I flinched as my evil imagination flashed me pictures of a duck pond.

"He's gotta slap his Johnson around," Lula said. Guh. I think that might have been worse.

"Fine, I guess we better go after the idiot," I sighed.

"Vinnie? He's right in there," Connie said absently, staring at something on her computer screen. I laughed.

"No, Bender."

"Oh. That one."

"Anybody got handcuffs?" I asked the room in general.

"What the hell?" Vinnie's poked his head out of his office. "Do you think they grow on trees? Improvise!" And the door slammed shut again.

"Wanna come with, Lula?" She looked ready to bolt. Hm, bribery… "I'll buy lunch."

"Let me get my purse."

"Right, I have to change anyway," I said walking around Connie's desk to the rest room. "Be right out."

I was just pulling the other spandex-y t-shirt on when Lula's voice drifted through the door. "Hey, check out that car that stopped by Steph's car! Look, it's the red Teletubby and a bear's driving…"

Shit. Merde. Sheit. I buttoned the jeans and dashed out of the bathroom in time to see the CR-V jump into the air and erupt into flames with a deafening boom.

"Holy shit!" Vinnie yelled as he ran out of his office. I sighed and looked over as he came skidding to a stop beside me to stare at the fireball formerly known as a CR-V.

"Steph's car just got firebombed by a Teletubby."

"I hate it when that happens," I said, looking back mournfully at the fireball. It hadn't been so bad for a suv, really. Vinnie nodded and went back into the office.

We girls wandered on outside as assorted squad cars and EMT's came barreling onto the scene.

"Anyone hurt?" asked a cop who had emerged from one of the squad cars. He looked a little like the guy who'd given me a ride home after the spiders.

"Nope."

"Good, then I can enjoy this," he grinned. "I missed the spiders and the guy on the couch."

A larger cop joined the other one. "Way to go Steph. About time you destroyed another one."

"It's been months," the first said, nodding in agreement.

"I live to serve," I said sweetly. Remember I said something about cops spending too much time with people? Gives them a weird sense of humor. They couldn't help it. I was about to say something more when I caught sight of Morelli getting out of a truck parked by one of the fire trucks. I turned to Lula.

"Let's go," I said, ignoring the fact that my own voice wasn't so steady and the amused looks on the cops' faces. They had to know all the lurid details anyway. No time to worry about that now. I'd worry about it tomorrow.

"You ain't got cuffs."

"I'll improvise. Let's just go." I had a stun gun and I still had my Glock, in its little gun belt thing, strapped to my hip. I was in the mood for shooting. No one ever said you couldn't shoot Bender in a non-fatal way, right?

Morelli was on the other side of the crime scene so I hurried Lula into her red Trans-Am. We were gone before he was halfway across the lot. It was a good thing, because I know people get upset if you shoot a cop. And kicking his ass probably wouldn't have gone over so well either.

We pulled up in front of Bender's house and stood looking at it. Trepidation; that was a good word for it. We were full of trepidation.

"Should I call in and see if anyone's home?" I asked.

"I think we should just leave. Bender's got a shoe in with God. Don't do to go foolin' around in God's business. He sent a Teletubby to bomb your car."

"God had nothing to do with that. Eddie Abruzzi just recognizes the inherent evil in those creatures."

"Well I ain't doing it. I ain't going near that house. And once we drop his ass at the station I'm getting one of those gallon-size margaritas at Chevy's…"

I sighed and shook my head. "Wait here. I'm going to go and knock and ask him nicely to come along. And If he doesn't I'm going to kick his ass. Or shoot him in the leg. I'll work that part out later." And I set off across the lawn.

"What about me?" Lula called.

"Stay there!" I yelled back. I was already at the door. I pounded on it and stood off to the side, keeping my hand close to my gun. It was lose in the holster and ready for drawing. The idea of making loud noises and putting nice big holes in things was very, dangerously appealing just then. I hoped Bender wouldn't do anything stupid. I kind of wanted Abruzzi to be the first, last, and only person I had to kill.

I shouldn't have worried. I'd lost my place in the book again.

Bender's wife opened the door and peered out. "Andy's sick."

I blinked at her, dumbfounded. Oh, this was the book… and he was… ew. Okay. Never mind. I turned and left.

Lula met me halfway across the yard. "What's wrong? I—"

There was a resounding crash as Bender's front door swung open. Andy Bender himself lurched out of the house toward us. Lula and I recoiled, instantly horrified. He was the walking dead. Stained khaki work pants and an ancient flannel top gave him the air of someone who'd just climbed out of a freshly dug grave. His hair was a gnarled mess, and his eyes were half closed as he moved down the walk with the jerky, slurring movements of B-movie zombies and the intensely drunk.

"Wait! I'm dying!" he moaned, the words guttural and horrific in their unhuman quality. "Cuff me!" he demanded as he shuffled closer, holding out stained, grubby hands with ragged nails.

My eyes met Lula's and we had an instant accord.

Safely back in the Trans Am, zooming down the street and back to the land of the living, I finally regained the power of speech. "I think you were right about Bender. Except I don't think it was God. I think you had the wrong side pegged for that one."

"You're right," Lula said. "That was Village of the Damned or some shit."

"Lula… did you say something about gallon-size margaritas?"

"Chevy's, Yeah, that's a good idea. The alcohol'll get rid of any germs we might have picked up."

I thought about this for a second. "Do they have strawberry daiquiris?"

"Oh hell yeah. They make a killer daiquiri!"

Sure, I know, I've been going out almost every single night, right? And it's really irresponsible what with me getting chased by killer teletubbies. And that would probably be right. But ask me now, do I care? Do I care really? I mean in the bigger picture does it matter? Maybe I'm just a new breed of schizophrenic. Maybe I'd just been infected with a killer flu virus.

Nah, all that matters is that huge daiquiri sitting in Chevy's calling out my name in a siren song of sweet alcoholic strawberry goodness. 'Alyssa,' it says, 'Alyssa, you deserve me! You will love me! Come, eat drink and be merry!' And I finish the quotation with a cheerful, 'For tomorrow we may all be dead!'

And how do you argue with a point like that?

So yes, I went with Lula to Chevy's because the alcohol would cleanse us of any dastardly germs, and because the strawberry daiquiri told me to. Hey, I figure, if I'm crazy and having paranoid delusions, they might as well feature happy talking drinks.

It was almost midnight when Lula dropped me off out front of the Plum Circus. I climbed out of the Firebird and promptly landed on my butt as I tripped over the curb. Damned but I did a lot of falling when I was drunk…

I giggled and flopped onto my side. "I'm fine," I laughed. "I think I'll stay here tonight. It's grass. Grass is soft. And natural."

The boot that came into my line of sight wasn't. It was black and shiny. I blinked at it. "Combat Boots in Suburbia… hey, that would make a good band name…" A large pair of hands settled around my waist and pulled me to my feet.

Ranger was looking very Rambo… or maybe more Denzel in movies where Denzel kills people and finds it invigorating. Except for the Rambo hair.

"You can go," he said to Lula. I heard squealing tires but my senses had had enough quick motions and I decided it was safer on some levels to remain looking up at Ranger. Of course on other levels it would have been better to look at the moving car and get sick, because I was drunk and being drunk and looking at Ranger made me think bad thoughts.

"I thought only SEALs got to have long hair," my mouth said. I really wished it would consult my brain before it spoke. Ranger's head moved a millimeter to the side.

"I heard about your car."

"I always knew Teletubbies were evil. Not as evil as Veggie Tales, but down there somewhere in that vicinity." He still had a hold of my waist. "I'm not drunk. I only had…" ack. Grr. Numbers! Number the stars, number my drinks… "a daiquiri." He loosened his hold, "or maybe two," his grip tightened again, "and sex on the beach. The sex on the beach wasn't very good, though," I sighed, feeling disappointed just thinking about it.

Ranger smirked. "Sorry to hear it, Babe." I laughed, but unfortunately I was at that point where laughing can cause loss of balance so I ended up leaning against him for support.

"You are not," I said into his shoulder. "So what brings Rambo to the 'Burbs?"

"Needed to talk to you," he said, putting his arms around me. "I checked up on Dotty, got a few names. I tried calling but your phone was off." Aw, he'd been worried.

"I left the phone in the car," I explained. "Drinking and cell phones don't mix. I might get bored and call someone and talk about Smurfs. Like, why is there only one girl Smurf?" I yawned. "You give good hugs… do we need to find people now?" Mmm, and he smelled good too.

Ranger was laughing quietly. "No. Tomorrow. I'll pick you up at eight."

"If you pick me up before nine you aren't going to survive the experience."

"I'll risk it."

I giggled. "Your life. I'll spare it if you can answer my question, though. Why IS there only one girl smurf?"

"Because one is enough."

Huh, I'd never thought about it like that. And he'd just answered the question of drunken college kids everywhere in four words. "Wow, you rock," I told him earnestly and hugged him.

"Come on, Babe, time for bed."

"With you? I think I'm too drunk for that."

Ranger sighed.