by Jason Kasper
He stabbed the glowing ember of his cigarette into my left bicep .
“FUCK!” I yelled, the sensation a mix of getting stabbed and electrocuted at once. A sudden, searing blast that melted away nerve endings to expose new ones in near-instantaneous succession that ended only when the cigarette extinguished itself on my smoldering muscle. I took several deep breaths, feeling a release of endorphins that replaced the agony with exhilaration .
He tossed the extinguished cigarette to the ground, opened the pack of Marlboros, and tilted it to show me what was inside .
“Now I got nine smokes left in here. That’s nine questions, but you know what? I got another pack in the office. Hell, I got a whole carton. I can keep this going all night, but I won’t have to. You see, putting a smoke out on your arm don’t hurt so bad. The rib, that’s ten times worse. Your nipple, even worse than that. But you know what’ll really get my questions answered ?”
I hissed through gritted teeth, “Free bar tab ?”
“Nah, pal. The eye. They hate that. Takes a couple guys to hold their head still. The cigarette won’t go out until it gets halfway through your eyeball. Now tell me this: you come from across the river ?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, pal. The Hudson. You here from New Yawk ?”
“No.”
“What family you working with ?”
“I don’t work for anyone .”
“Look, I don’t give a fuck why you came to Jersey and picked a fight. I want to know why you came here, to this joint, and hit the guy you did .”
“Trying to impress a cougar at the bar .”
“By getting your fucking ass beat to a pulp ?”
“I thought I could take him .”
“Pal, you’re not taking Viggs, and there’s not a woman upstairs who would’ve taken more than three beers to go home with any guy, much less some pretty boy like you, okay? But you won’t be getting your dick wet anymore. There’s no way your luck is so bad that you came to the capital of organized crime in Jersey, waltzed into a bar run by wise guys, and hit a made man .”
Before I could say anything, footsteps pounded down the stairs. One of the bouncers appeared in the doorway .
“All right, boss, no one else got hit but us. Ran the kid’s address—only thing that comes up is it’s registered under a foster home license .”
“Foster kid? Your parents didn’t want you, David Rivahs ?”
I swallowed. “Hard to imagine, isn’t it, Cancer ?”
The bouncer rubbed a fat hand across the back of his neck. “There’s one more thing, boss. Tanya said he came in here with some Spic with a goatee. Older guy. Said he split when I broke up the fight .”
At this, Cancer swung his eyes to mine .
“Well isn’t that interesting. Looks like you aren’t some lone nutcase after all. Tell me, who was this guy ?”
I shook my head. “Sounds like Tanya is shithouse-hammered, because I came here alone .”
Cancer looked to the bouncer. “Go bring your buddy down here so we can do the eye .”
“You got it, boss.” He turned and left .
“Now until he gets back, let’s entertain ourselves by trying your rib. Or you could just tell me who you came here with.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack, lighting it and blowing a cloud of smoke into my face .
I coughed twice. “I came alone. That’s the truth, whether you believe me or not .”
“You’re a pretty convincing liar .”
He took the cigarette from his mouth, turned it in his hand, and pressed the end between two of my left ribs .
“GODDAMMIT! FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU ! ”
Cancer pressed harder as I thrashed, trying to swing sideways and kick my legs, which were still taped at the ankles. Nothing worked, and it was, without a doubt, the worst pain I’d ever experienced. I shook madly, holding my breath as I tensed until every muscle ached .
For a split second I was back in the basement of the team house—first tied to the chair during Boss’s interrogation of me, and then standing across from it watching Luka being tortured .
The ember burned out and I saw Karma on the porch, producing a cigarette for me and saying, Here, I still owe you one of these .
When I finally inhaled, the air was putrid with smoke and burning flesh .
Cancer sniffed the air. “Smells like pork, don’t it? Not that different from the ribs upstairs .”
Footsteps tumbled down the stairs again, and the two huge bouncers reappeared. Cancer looked at them and then nodded in my direction. Without a word, they walked to either side of me as Cancer stepped closer to my face .
Then he spoke calmly, matter-of-factly. “Now listen here, David Rivahs. You can either tell me who you came here with, or you can tell me which eye you want me to burn out first. Your call .”
I lifted my chin toward him. “I came here alone, so why don’t you pick an eye ?”
“Fair enough. I’m gonna go with the right. Hold him tight now, fellas .”
The bouncers’ hands mashed against my head. My temples, chin, and cheeks were smeared against their thick, sweaty palms .
“FUCK YOU!” I yelled, the words emerging as a muffled roar through the hand covering my mouth. I strained fiercely against their bodies, the handcuffs, whatever I could. Their grip crushed my skull as the glowing, smoldering orb closed in on my face. The smoke stung my eye before the heat did, and I clenched my eyes shut as my lashes began to singe .
“Enough!” a voice shouted from somewhere to my front .
The heat vanished, and I blinked to see Viggs staring back at me in disgust before cutting his eyes to Cancer. “They can hear him upstairs. What’s the matter with you ?”
Cancer said, “I got him this time, I promise you. He’s gonna talk before I get to the second eye .”
“Fucking stop it already. He knows we’re not going to kill him here. Take him to the harbor and get a drum from out back. If he’s going to talk, that’s where he’ll do it. I’ll meet you down there .”
He turned and left. Cancer took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged .
“I was wrong about you, David Rivahs. Looks like you’ll be getting your dick wet tonight after all .”
One of the bouncers pulled a burlap bag over my head, blocking the light from view .
* * *
By the time the car stopped, I was nearly hypothermic .
They had cuffed my hands behind my back, left my ankles tied, and thrown me in the trunk still clad only in pants and shoes. The ensuing drive took the better part of half an hour that may as well have been spent in a meat locker. Within minutes, I’d managed to work my legs between the handcuffs, bringing my wrists to my front and taking the duct tape off my ankles. Then I struggled mightily to kick the trunk open without success. Undeterred, I searched for a way to wriggle into the backseat, found none, and began kicking the trunk again to keep warm as much as anything else .
After I began shaking uncontrollably, I periodically rolled onto my exposed cigarette burns so the agonizing pain would distract me from the sheer cold .
When the trunk finally swung open, the whole crew was looking down at me— Viggs, Cancer, and both bouncers. Shivering violently, and with mucus now streaming from my nose, I closed my eyes and began to whimper .
“Jesus,” Cancer said, “he’s gonna die before we get him in the water .”
The bouncers reached in and grabbed my arms, roughly lifting my trembling body and hoisting me upright as the smell of rotting fish and raw sewage hit me. I saw metal shipping containers stacked behind structures supporting tall cranes. Their pylons were suspended over rippling black water that blended into the glowing maze of the distant New York City skyline. That meant I was standing either beside the Hudson River or some bay offshoot of it .
It would be an iconic end to a dark and troubled existence, I thought with a sense of absurd irony. I was about to die next to the same body of water I used to
cross from West Point to reach Ma Bell, the antenna I jumped off not to defy death but to taunt it .
As Cancer stepped in front of me, I kicked him in the groin with all of my remaining strength. He fell where he stood, and I managed to place a second kick across the bridge of his nose before Viggs drilled me in the face, his fist a dense brick against my cheekbone .
I sagged into the bouncers’ grip as they hoisted me up again for Viggs to deliver a close-range uppercut into my gut. Taking a single wheeze of air, I spat a spray of blood and tried to yell fuck you .
I was only able to rasp the first word of that announcement before they all started beating me at once—first Viggs and the bouncers, and then Cancer when he recovered his composure. I crumpled under the onslaught of sloppy blows. I was pressed against the bumper of the car and then pushed onto the freezing ground as I tried to protect my head from absorbing wild kicks .
Viggs barked, “All right, that’s good for now .”
As soon as the attack stopped, I began involuntarily shivering again. The bitter cold, the countless impacts, and the now-shredded cigarette burns had all blended together into a delirium of agony .
Viggs knelt beside me .
“I appreciate your balls, kid, I really do. But you’re about to go into a fifty-five gallon drum with holes cut in the metal and then thrown into this fucking river. If you’re lucky, you’ll drown before the crabs climb inside and start eating you. Now, if you tell me why you came into that bar, and who was with you, then I’ll let you go with an ass-kicking. You have my word .”
I sniffled and took another shuddering breath. “All right. I’ll talk .”
“Stand him up,” Viggs said .
The bouncers lifted me once again as I continued shivering .
I watched Cancer walk to my front, this time out of kicking range. “Enjoy your next human ashtray chained to a pipe, you sick fuck,” I said. “Viggs, you’re a pussy, and go kill yourself. You two bouncers are just fat, expendable extras in this little drama, so I’m not even going to dignify you with — ”
A punch to the face silenced me as my train of thought was scattered into pieces within my skull. They threw me to the ground and began tying my ankles back together with a narrow rope .
When they jerked my arms downward by the handcuffs, I was able to land a single hard bite on one of the bouncer’s wrists. He recoiled and slapped my head against the ground as the other bouncer made a series of cross-wraps between my ankle and wrist restraints, binding my body into a fixed crouching position .
At this, I was effectively hog-tied and completely fucked. As they rolled the fifty-five gallon steel drum toward me, complete with a few dinner plate-sized holes in the side, just as Viggs had promised, I used what feeling was left in my fingertips to probe for a knot in the rope .
The only other thing I could move was my mouth, so I did .
“I hope you assholes enjoyed this little soirée as much as I did”—they swung the opening of the drum in my direction and began stuffing me in feet-first—“and have fun stealing scrap metal or whatever the fuck the mob actually does in 2008 .”
As I probed without success for a knot in the rope, they stood the drum upright with me inside. I could hear them pressing the lid shut as Viggs’s eyes appeared before one of the holes .
“Do you ever stop talking, kid?” he asked .
“Viggs, you’re lucky these two fat fucks took me down, because this kid would have put you in the hospital by now. Hey, Cancer, you out there ?”
I determined that wherever the knot in my rope was, I couldn’t reach it .
Cancer appeared in front of the hole. “Talk while you still can, David Rivahs. Because you’re about to go in the — ”
“Finish your thought, you dumb fuck! What were you going to say? Rivers is going in the river? Do you finally feel as stupid as you sound to everyone else? Bouncers! Hey, you two fat bouncers! Before you die in botched quadruple bypass surgeries, make sure you tell everyone at your shithole bar how much of a fucking twat your boss is. Rivers in the river? Not exactly Broadway material, you clichéd Guido mobster fuck .”
His face disappeared from view, and I felt the drum being rocked as they looped a wide strap around it from bottom to top. Then I heard a ratchet being tightened as they sealed me inside .
The drum was pushed onto its flank, the clanging metal impact reverberating like a gunshot inside the confined space .
“David,” Viggs said sharply, “tell us what we want to know. This is your last chance .”
I was hyperventilating now, my words becoming erratic as they floated on ragged breaths. “I’d rather take a bath at the bottom of this river than listen to you idiots make threats any longer, so let’s get on with it. And Newark fucking blows .”
At my last word, the drum began rolling before it went into freefall with me inside .
I had just enough time to inhale the biggest gulp of air I could manage before hitting the surface .
Freezing water flooded through the holes, so cold that my exposed skin felt like it was melting off the muscle. The jolting shock almost made me exhale every bit of precious air in my lungs, but before I could, the icy liquid had engulfed my head and I began my descent .
I tried to rotate upside down from my current position so I could kick off the lid. But finding there wasn’t nearly enough room to do so, I planted my feet on the bottom of the drum and began slamming my shoulder blades against the lid over and over again in an adrenaline-fueled rush to survive .
It didn’t budge .
Frantic, I made a final attempt to find a knot in the rope, only realizing after I began that it wouldn’t matter as long as the drum remained sealed. Suddenly I lost all feeling in my hands and feet, and the icy numbness spread to successive joints until my limbs were fully immobilized .
I smashed my shoulder blades upward until my strength faded completely. Peering out of a hole in the thin steel, I saw the distant turquoise lights of the port dimming to blackness as the pressure built in my ears .
My lungs began burning every bit as painfully as the cigarettes did when they seared into my flesh. The drum continued sinking as all else faded to blackness. I lost all control of my body, unable to command even the weakest movement to attempt escape .
My head pulsed with the exertion of maintaining life, and I began swallowing dryly to quell a rising lump in my throat. I felt a curious sense of disbelief, not that I was dying—surely I had come to terms with that over the past years of my life—but that I was dying like this . And, in those final moments, my life didn’t flash before my eyes in a single cosmic flash .
Instead I saw Karma in vivid color, her crystal blue eyes and glowing skin, the pink-streaked blonde hair and the coral shade of her lips. My vision filled with the ornate tapestry of her tattoos, koi fish and cherry blossoms swirling around her face in a psychedelic matrix that soon began darkening .
I was finally getting the end I deserved, not for the million shattered crimes of my existence but for letting Karma and the team die .
When all had gone black, I was transported to one last memory. I was lying in bed with her after my final dinner with the team, the room so dark that I couldn’t even make out her face—only the sound of her voice, the warmth of her body, and her whispered words as we lay there together .
After this is over, come back to Savannah with me .
I opened my mouth and felt the horrifying torrent of cold water rush into my lungs .
Then everything stopped—the pain, the inner resistance, the thoughts—and I entered a state of peaceful tranquility at my life’s end that was more profoundly comfortable than any moment preceding it .
Relaxed and content, I closed my eyes and slipped into the darkness .
* * *
I walked down the hallway with a grim sense of determination, the fabric of my socks scraping on the rust-colored shag carpet as I approached the voices coming from the living room .
“—the ve
ry fine line between revenge and outright murder . ”
“You know the difference, don’t you ? ”
Turning the corner, I came to a stop in the dim lamplight and watched the back of the recliner, its fabric surface smoothed by decades of use. Beyond it, faces shifted as drama unfolded within the confines of a wood grain television set .
“Honor. ”
“As defined by whom ? ”
“The victor . ”
Taking a breath, I announced, “I’m not doing this anymore .”
A hand reached out from the recliner, lifted the glass of whiskey from the end table, and vanished again. I heard the clink of ice cubes before the hand reappeared, setting the glass back down next to the remote control .
Speaking louder this time, I said, “Dad, I’m not doing this anymore .”
The Irish-accented voice called back from the recliner, “You’re not doing what anymore ?”
“Latin. I quit .”
“Oh,” the voice replied. “The Latin .”
The hand appeared again, this time pressing a button on the remote without lifting it. The television screen went silent, the image of a suited actor aiming a revolver from his waist frozen with his mouth open mid-word .
“I see. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me about this decision ?”
Walking around the recliner, I sank onto the overstuffed couch and shifted to the edge of the cushion. Sitting up straight, I put my hands on my knees and spoke firmly .
“I’m going to be an explorer when I grow up, so I need to learn something that people actually speak. If I have to see a tutor after school, I want it to be for a real language .”
My dad nodded thoughtfully, raising his dark eyes to the ceiling as he ran a hand down his cheeks and over his graying beard, sweeping his fingers into a fist at his chin .
This was a good sign. He always combed his beard when he was taking something seriously .
He set his hands on the armrests and shifted his heavyset body to face me .
“So if we change your tutor, what language would you like to learn instead ?”
“Spanish, maybe. Or Chinese .”
“Both fine and beautiful languages. I think you’d do just splendidly at either one. Do you know the first time I heard Chinese ?”