Nomad: A Story from The Reels

by Brian Ewing

  Ama noticed his attention diverting, “What is it?”

  “I think Super Dave started making good on his promises. Pearl looks great. Look at the rims. She looks good as new.”

  “She looks like she was in the Gulf War.” Ama corrected him.

  The two walked in to see Dave sweating like he just finished a marathon, atop a twelve-foot ladder. It looked like Fred Corden had given Dave a new task of decorating the lobby for the upcoming event.

  “Dave, you got my keys? Pearl looks great, thanks for that.”

  Extended to where he only had one foot on the ladder, the gangly fellow with sweat stains was contorted at an angle so he could get the hooked nail into the drywall to hold up the huge Grand Re-opening banner.

  “Who the fuck is Pearl?” He exuded, not taking his eyes off the pushpin.

  “Nevermind, you got my keys?”

  Super Dave moved his body out of a scoliotic state and resumed a normal posture with both feet on the ladder. He reached in his pocket and threw Sisto his keys back.

  “I will get the rest done in the next day or two. Fred has me doing this bullshit all day. The man is trying to fucking kill me.”

  “Giving a superintendent of a building a list of things to do, is not an attempt at trying to kill you. You’re just a lazy prick.”

  “Fuck you too, Sisto.”

  Ama and Sisto made their way to the stairwell and walked up to the third floor.

  “Have fun on your date with Rip Van Winkle tonight. I will text you when we get to Flashy Jack’s if you want to come. I am sure they can warm some milk up for the old man when you get there.”

  An arch rose on Ama’s brow, indicating to Sisto to lay off. He got the signal and rose his hands in mock surrender.

  “Talk to you in a bit, Sisto.”

  Sisto continued up two more flights of stairs and entered his apartment. He threw his keys and wallet on the small kitchen table and proceeded to grab a beer before sitting on the couch. He grabbed the notepad he left on the coffee table and resumed his homework of assessing people by their faces.

  CHAPTER 16

  The last of the equipment was loaded into the back of the news van and Andrick viewed from afar the reporter shaking the hand of some of the men. Andrick nursed a beer with Mason and the crew, waiting eagerly for his obstacle to drive off in the sunset. Looking around, there had been a ton of conversations occurring. The campground was scattered with hundreds of people. Hundreds more would be joining along with the next few stops. Andrick was happy to see the turnout.

  Easier to get lost in the crowd when the crowd is a herd of drunken bikers, Andrick said to himself.

  “Dart tournament starts in ten minutes,” a voice boomed over the huge speakers from the makeshift DJ area.

  The rustling of people gathering their drinks and starting to head to the far side of the campground had begun. People muttered and groaned as they stood out of their camping chairs, heading down to the four trees that had dartboards hung on each one. Still perched atop the area that Mason claimed for himself and his crew, Freddy looked at Mason unsure if he should proceed with what he wanted to ask.

  Mason, able to read the loyal biker, cut him a break, “You boys got an hour, meet back here to talk about business. Freddy tried to withhold his excitement but about twenty feet away from their claimed spot, Andrick could see a pep arise in the man’s step.

  “Oh, Christ,” Rug stated, in a raspy tone. “Freddy won the tournament last year, so you know he is going to lose his shit if he doesn’t get there in time for the first round.”

  Mole, in a rarity, laughed. Andrick allowed Rug and Mole to stand and start to head down the path before he stood up himself.

  “Andrick,” Mason said softly.

  Andrick looked back to see Mason hadn’t risen out of his camping chair. It looked like the man had no intention of joining them. At that moment, Mason nodded his head for Andrick to fall back and sit with him.

  “I was wondering if I could have a word with you?”

  “Of course, Mason. What can I assist you with?”

  “I appreciate you willing to talk to Púca tomorrow. We will be in Mustain for two nights, so there will be a lot to go over.”

  Mason looked over his shoulder, which seemed odd since he had been perched at the furthest and highest spot in the campground. There had been no way that anybody could creep up behind him and listen in on the conversation. Andrick assumed it had just been years of the man’s muscle memory at work.

  Mason continued, “What would you say if I asked you to join my team? Spokane chapter.”

  Andrick had not expected the offer. “I thought you had everyone you needed in Spokane? Isn’t that why I am having a sit down with Púca? Because you need someone in Saratoga City?”

  “I needed the boys to believe you weren’t a threat. I have a problem and I need someone from the outside that I can trust to be discreet about a situation.”

  Boy howdy, Christmas is coming early, Andrick told himself.

  “Well, I am happy to reciprocate the hospitality you have shown me, Mason. Spokane is much closer to where I live and know, too. What exactly is the situation?”

  Please say you need someone dead! Pretty please!

  “I found out a few weeks back, right before we left, that one of my guys has been doing shit that ain’t too good for the club.”

  Please tell me you want me to kill that gum on my shoe, Mole!

  “What kind of things?” Andrick asked, trying not to jump out of his seat in delight.

  “I found out Mole has been skimming on the side.”

  Hahahahahaha, yes! Glory Days!

  “He also,” Mason paused, “was caught in Little China back home, buying little girls.”

  “Oh, my,” Andrick refrained himself.

  “Seeing how you took care of business and stood up for yourself yesterday, makes me think maybe you wouldn’t be opposed to cleaning out the trash?”

  Andrick was a soulless prick, but he never fucked kids. He despised someone that could steal the innocence of a child, consent, or not.

  “Mason, from what you have told me, it would be obscene to let this go on any further. I will help you. I will help you tonight, as long as you are sure this is what you want?”

  Mason looked like had an internal battle for almost a full minute, then simply nodded.

  “Consider it done.” Andrick comforted Mason’s choice.

  Andrick couldn’t believe his luck. He was given free reign to take out Mole, even revered for doing it. Andrick looked over to the crowd to see a bunch of drunk & disorderly strangers woven by the invisible brotherhood of an idea to live outside the law. In a few hours, Andrick would indeed be living outside the law, to his fullest potential. In the distance, he saw Rug and Mole cheering on Freddy as he was focusing on his first set of throws. Mole had a dumb grin on his face, a dumb face Andrick couldn’t wait to see disappear as he extinguished the light from his dark, gray eyes.

  The next two hours had been pure torture for Andrick. He felt like a starving dog staring at a steak that was just out of reach. Luckily, it got darker earlier in the elevated national park where they were staying. He had told Mason to order Mole and Andrick to go somewhere in an adjacent town, so nothing would fall back on the club. Mason agreed it made sense to keep the publicity and the club out of the mix. If Mole had been killed and the body found near the premises, it would have been a federal case since it is a national park. The men had sat after some brief housecleaning business, followed by a buffet-style dinner around the small campfire that Rug had set up by their group’s tents, per Mason’s request.

  “Listen, I got a call from a contact in Proctor that owes us money and is ready to pay. Proctor is only fifteen miles away from here. I need two of you to take the truck one of the prospects, Joe or Jim, had driven up here and go get our money.”

  Astutely, Andrick rose his hand. “I would be happy to do that for you Mason if you want to give me the di
rections.”

  “Fuck that,” Mole scoffed. “Mason, you don’t even know this motherfucker. You can’t trust him with the club’s money, your money.”

  The plan worked perfectly. While the dart tournament had occurred below, Andrick and Mason devised how they would get Mole and Andrick away from the park together. Andrick knew if he had offered to pick up money, Mole would object, inadvertently volunteering himself for the task. Mason agreed.

  “Andrick,” Mason put on a concerned front, “I appreciate the offer, but Mole is right. You are new to the group and you have proved yourself pretty well, but we aren’t there yet.”

  Mole smirked as the crackling flames accentuated the wrinkles from years of a weathered lifestyle.

  “Mole, you’re going. Andrick is riding shotgun.”

  “Boss, what the fuck? I don’t need that asshole coming along. I can do a pickup myself. I’m not some prospect.”

  “I need someone to show Andrick the ropes and help him get his hands dirty. It’s not up for debate. They are expecting you in a half-hour. You two better get going.”

  Mole huffed and wanted to dispute the decision but second-guessed from pushing further. He stood up, not looking at any of them, and headed off towards a beat up burnt-sienna colored pick-up truck, leaving Andrick to trail behind. Andrick looked at Mason from across the campfire and nodded before getting out of his chair to follow. He gave Rug and Freddy a friendly gesture as he followed the dark path down towards the truck. Mole had already started the truck, lights kicked on, and the engine revved. The revving of the engine was an extension of Mole trying to tell Andrick to fuck off and die. Andrick held back a smirk as he opened the passenger door and sat on the worn leather seat. Before he could fully shut the door, Mole was already speeding off.

  “Don’t speak unless fucking spoken to.” Mole demanded.

  “That will work for me just fine,” Andrick acknowledged.

  The drive had been quick and just inside the city of Proctor, Mole had followed the directions from the GPS. It led to an open field, about one-hundred yards from a clothing factory. Nothing to be seen in the immediate area as the night swept over the sky. Both men got out of the car and looked around the dark and desolated field.

  “This is where the directions lead. I don’t fucking see anyone waiting for a drop-off.” Mole spoke, mainly talking to himself.

  Andrick preferred not to get bloody if it was not necessary. He usually preferred to suffocate, drug, or stun a victim. Blood always seemed messier and a bigger hassle than he desired. In Mole’s case, two factors came into play. First, Andrick wanted this kill to look more savage than his signature kills, so it would not be easily connected to him. That was a fraction of the reasoning, as he knew his urges were overtaking him and if he kept on the track he was on, it would not matter if he was safe on this kill or not. His lust for murder would be his downfall and he had come to accept that over the last forty-eight hours. The second reason, more pertinent reason to use the knife, was because he just plain didn’t like Mole.

  “Fucking bullshit,” Mole said from leaning against the open door of the vehicle while half-standing and looking around, one leg back in the car. “Ten minutes and we are out of here.”

  One of us, anyhow.

  Andrick, also half out of the car standing on the passenger side, sat back in the seat and closed the door. Mole sighed and did the same. As Mole grabbed the handle to the driver’s side door and pulled it shut, he felt a sharp pierce run through his body. He couldn’t move as his body seized up from the chilling pain. His eyes widened as he heard a slight giggle from his right side. Mole stared forward at the empty field, visible only by the headlights, as his left hand started to tremble.

  He heard the passenger door open, then shut, then saw the man he grew to despise cross the front of the truck and over to his driver side door. Mole was paralyzed from the sharp tingle that ran through his entire body. Mole heard the mechanism unlatch as the door opened, and Andrick grabbed Mole gently and heaved him out of the truck and onto the dirt floor.

  “Mole, I am very sorry to say but your boss knew for a while about your misdoings and was very disappointed in you,” Andrick spoke calmly as if the two were having a healthy debate over lunch at a restaurant.

  Mole tried to curse at the man but felt pressure on the right side of his neck. The taste of batteries filled his mouth and instead of an insult, sadly a viscous dark-red blood bubble escaped his lips.

  Andrick looked over the man and had a mixed feeling of satisfaction and admiration for his work. He had plunged the six-inch blade that Mason had given him, through two rag towels that he hid in the passenger door, into the visible vein that ran up Mole’s filthy neck. Andrick was always trying to be as careful as possible and by placing the knife through the rags first, any spurting of blood would soak into the cloth, avoiding a big clean-up for Andrick within the vehicle itself.

  “Mole, Mole, Mole. I wish I could tell you this was all my idea, but to be honest, you served yourself up on a silver platter.”

  The gurgle from the man on the ground gave Andrick the warmest of sensations in his heart.

  “You see, I was going to kill you anyway, but this is much cleaner for me. I didn’t want to have to hide the body and pretend you and I didn’t have an issue. Lying is not my favorite thing. Lying to Mason would have been vital but because you are a thief and a pedophile, I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  Mole was turning a shade paler than his usual pigment. The rag at his neck was completely saturated in a crimson, wet sheen. Mole’s eyes started to flutter, indicating to Andrick that he hadn’t long before the end of existence for Mole’s life light.

  “Mole…what a stupid name. What is your real name? Oh well, names are for the living. You are already a dead man.” Andrick spoke as he knelt to Mole, grabbing his face to ensure that he was the last thing the man ever saw on this Earth.

  “The knife in your neck was provided by your brother, Mason. How ironic life can be sometimes. Mole, I have to let you in on a secret.”

  Mole’s body started to slowly heave as he had started to drown in his own blood.

  “I consider myself a messenger of death. I am helping you, even though you don’t really deserve it. You are also helping me quench my urge. I always thought it was Tappy that drove me to kill, but this week I have learned a few things. Tappy was my subconscious trying to keep me in check. He would notify me, sometimes softly, sometimes with force, when my urges came to the surface. I thought he steered the path I took in life. Tappy was never the Captain of my ship, I know that now. I was my own navigator down this dark road. For that realization, I can only thank you, Mole. I thank that you were willing to be such an inconvenience to everyone you were in contact with, that they fed you to my darkness.”

  Hand still on Mole’s jaw, keeping the man staring into his eyes, Andrick slowly withdrew the blade to show Mole he was not lying about getting permission to end his life. The blade had an insignia of the 3S logo in the blade handle. Mason had given the knife to Andrick because it had been a gift one year ago from Mole to Mason. Mason wanted Mole to know that he was smarter than Mole had suspected. The rags, heavily saturated, did start to purge a consistent flow of warm blood, rushing Mole to the end of his time. Andrick stared into Mole’s beady eyes, which were full of fear until they no longer held any emotion at all.

  The ride back to the campground was calm and enjoyable. Andrick kept the windows down and embraced the breeze of fresh air, paired with the beauty of the night sky. He pulled into the campgrounds, parking the truck in the same spot he had seen Mole start the engine, and happily approached the top of the claimed areas, where Mason, Rug, and Freddy had been laughing over their small fire. Telling stories and drinking beers, all eyes appeared on Andrick as he approached.

  “Hello, all.”

  “Back already? That was quick. Did everything go alright?” Mason asked, conveying Andrick to read between the lines of the question
.

  “Absolutely,” Andrick stated, pulling out an envelope full of cash, handing it to Mason in front of the other two.

  Unbeknownst to Freddy and Rug, Mason had supplied Andrick with the blade and the envelope of cash before his departure to the empty field. Mason didn’t want to tell Freddy and Rug about Mole’s betrayal until they met up with the Saratoga City chapter the following night.

  “Where is Mole?” Rug asked, in his signature raspy voice.

  “He texted me and said he got a call from his old lady. Guess his kid broke their leg on a bicycle or something. I had my contact from the drop drive him to the airport. Did Mole take the cash for the plane ticket out of the envelope like I told him?”

  “Indeed, he asked if I could relay his gratitude as well. He said he would call you once he was assured his child was alright.”

  The story seemed to apease the two men around the campfire. Andrick looked to see Mason nod his head slightly in an act of gratitude, as well as confirmation that Andrick was as good as in the Spokane chapter of 3S.

  CHAPTER 17

  Sisto dialed Bell’s cell as he exited his apartment. He had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up to see it was already past the time he told Culpepper that he would reach out.

  “Douchebag.”

  “I’m sorry, Bell. I fell asleep. Listen, I am supposed to meet up with Mitchell and Wallace for drinks at Flashy Jack’s. You want to meet up and go over stuff in person there?”

  Bell hesitated, thinking about it a moment, but decided against it. “No, Kid. I can go over it with you now, I guess.”

  “Alright, what’s up?” Sisto asked, opening the stairwell door to head down to the lobby.