Monsters

by Matt Rogers

  Then King and Frankie smashed into the trio and sent all five of them over the edge.

  70

  Pain and blood.

  Broken bones.

  The world spinning.

  A night sky full of stars, then moss and concrete.

  Repeat.

  King tumbled and rolled, out of control, unable to slow his descent or find purchase on the slick slope. He bounced off a hip, then a shoulder, then his ribcage, then the small of his back. His vision turned hot and agonising when his face grazed the concrete. When you’re falling there’s an element of pure shock, no matter how braced you are. You freeze up, each bolt of pain as unbelievable as the last. You think to yourself, Is this it?

  But it was a slope, not a mountain.

  They all spilled across the dry creek bed mere seconds after falling into the channel. The tumble had seemed an eternity. There were undiscovered injuries, unknown pain, that horrific pause that comes after you know you’re injured but aren’t sure how bad it is yet.

  King didn’t have time to figure out how hurt he was.

  He sprung to his feet with his Glock in his hand, hoping to take advantage of the chaos and confusion.

  But everyone else had the same idea.

  71

  The flood control channel was gargantuan in comparison to their small silhouettes.

  Against the backdrop of the sloped concrete walls that ran for hundreds of feet into the distance, narrowing to a dark point on the horizon, their problems seemed infinitesimal, unimportant.

  But they were real.

  They were important.

  King and Alexis formed the lower half of a square. Frankie and Heidi faced them. They’d all risen and aimed their weapons simultaneously, and each of them had apparently registered that if one of them fired, they were all dead. So no one had.

  And here they were.

  In the sudden and tense stillness, King got a better look at their injuries. None of them — he and Alexis included — had been blessed with a gentle fall. His ribs ached and something burned in his left hip. He hadn’t tried taking a step forward, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to unimpeded. A torn hip flexor would be debilitating, and ensure that whatever happened between them, it had to be finished here. Any prolonging would put him at a huge disadvantage. He could feel blood running down his spine from where the concrete had shredded his shirt and torn the skin across his upper back. For now his aim was steady, but there was no telling what it’d be like in five, ten minutes when the shock wore off and the pain set in. Whatever he wanted to do, it had to be done quickly.

  Frankie and Heidi were in no better shape. King didn’t dare turn his head to check on Alexis — he could only hope she was lucid and focused — so he rotated his gaze between the two in front of him. Frankie’s face was a mess, nose misshapen, scalp scratched and bloodied. His eyes were clear with adrenaline and the raised arm holding his gun was steady, but he kept his other arm pinned to his side. He might have torn a rotator cuff, ripped a bicep. Whatever the case, there was no doubt the arm was useless. Heidi’s wide eyes had lost none of their shine, but the rest of her face was similarly marked up, swelling already beginning to bloom. She hunched involuntarily, like something in her abdomen was torn, or her ribs were broken.

  All four of them were broken. Five, if you counted Danny, who lay off to the side of the channel in a hunched heap. He was useless in the standoff, out of the picture.

  None of the four who were standing would falter.

  For better or worse, each of them was relentless in their own way.

  Heidi, of course, got in first. She had the smooth tongue, all that high-stress business negotiation experience coming in handy. She had to keep her voice small so she didn’t betray the extent of her internal injuries, but she still got the verbal jump on them. ‘I think we can all see how this is going to go.’

  King said, ‘Can we?’

  ‘I’m happy to wait it out.’

  ‘Are you? I’m double your weight. That’s a thin arm, Heidi. Not enough muscle. Looks like you’re already starting to shake.’

  She wasn’t, but doubt doesn’t need to be grounded in reality to exist. Heidi blinked for what seemed like the first time ever, those owl-like eyes closing momentarily, but she composed herself. ‘Same goes for your girlfriend.’

  King didn’t see the need to correct her. ‘She’s stronger than you, Heidi. You’re slim but you’re weak.’

  ‘Yes,’ Heidi said. ‘But your lady’s hurt worse than me.’

  King couldn’t turn his head, but the silence coming from Alexis’ direction confirmed it.

  No one spoke for at least thirty seconds.

  To all of them, it felt like thirty hours.

  Each moment was painstaking.

  King would never admit it, but Heidi impressed him. Frankie Booth was a mobster, a serious piece of shit, and had no doubt been on the bad end of a gun before. At some point in his criminal career he must’ve looked death in the eyes. Alexis had, too, and King had done this too many times to count. To him it was almost normal. Heidi, on the other hand, was a novice. She’d ordered hits, obviously, and she’d forged a ruthless career in the most competitive business arena in the country, but that was nothing compared to being in the thick of it, having a gun in your face, having to aim one at an enemy, searching for a chink in their armour. And to her credit she stayed disciplined, almost unbelievably so. She didn’t let the emotions get to her. Sure, she was a sociopath, but even sociopaths fear for their own lives. Heidi seemed to understand that the slightest weakness right now would spell the end.

  No one budged.

  Out of sight, Alexis said, ‘Look at me, Heidi.’

  Her voice was weak but she kept her tone consistent, didn’t let it waver. Holding onto strength in the face of what might be permanent injuries.

  Heidi said, ‘No.’

  Didn’t take those wide eyes off King.

  Didn’t dare.

  Alexis said, ‘Okay. Then listen.’

  Heidi said nothing.

  Alexis said, ‘I’m sure you can see where this is going. By some miracle you kill us both — which won’t happen — you’re still fucked. Your company’s going up in flames. You’re going down for paying for murders. It’s inevitable.’

  No answer.

  Alexis said, ‘You know what I’m capable of. Me and my friend here. You’ve seen the bodies. All those men you sent.’

  King stared into Heidi’s eyes, watched her listening.

  Alexis said, ‘We can help you get out of the country, start fresh. We have those resources, that knowledge.’

  ‘Bullshit you’d do that.’

  ‘I’m willing to. But only if you help us. Only if you turn and shoot this bastard in the head in the next ten seconds.’

  Frankie visibly stiffened. He tried to laugh but it came out hollow. ‘Right. That’ll work.’

  Heidi said nothing.

  King watched frantic calculations taking place.

  Frankie’s laugh was gone, replaced by revealing nothingness.

  Alexis said, ‘Five seconds. Or the deal’s off.’

  Heidi said, ‘You’re not going to help me.’

  ‘Three seconds.’

  No options.

  No hope.

  Except, maybe, one chance…

  When Frankie spoke it came out panicked. ‘Heidi, don’t be a fuckin’—’

  A flash of movement as Frankie turned first. Bringing his gun around to his left. King hadn’t considered that. That as grim as Heidi’s future looked, Frankie’s looked worse. He was going down, too. Guaranteed. Which only left the same offer. Maybe, if he killed her for them, they’d give him the same opportunity.

  Heidi spun faster.

  She shot Frankie through the left side of his temple as he finished his turn.

  He fired too.

  72

  Frankie collapsed back, a hole in his head, his eyes glassed over.

  Heidi didn’
t.

  King watched her freeze, shoulders forward, mouth open, like a movie’s freeze frame. She seemed in sudden, hideous shock, and although he couldn’t see a bullet wound he was sure she’d go down any second, joining Frankie in the peace of death.

  But she stayed on her feet.

  Untouched.

  Frankie’s shot had missed.

  Which meant the shock was about something else. King knew, just from the way she reacted, that she’d never killed anyone before. Ordering it over the phone or via an encrypted text isn’t quite the same.

  She squawked a sound that was a mixture of surprise, relief, and disbelief, then slowly turned to face them, her gun lowered.

  She said, ‘Did you see—?’

  Alexis shot her twice in the face.

  73

  Finally King could turn to Alexis.

  He braced himself for what he might see.

  When he saw her, he breathed out, full of relief, which you wouldn’t expect from the way she looked, but he knew the difference between superficial injuries and life-threatening ones. Her forehead was bloodied and the skin was raw on one cheek, grazed off by her face crushing the concrete on the fall. It’d bleed a lot more, but it’d heal, and it sure wouldn’t kill her. The other hideous sight was the pinky finger of her gun hand, bent at a complete right angle away from the rest of her fingers, dislocated. Heidi would’ve seen that first and assumed Alexis was terribly injured, but beyond the scratches and cuts and bruises and swelling she seemed composed enough.

  That’s what he thought.

  Then she put the gun down, relocated her finger with a quick snap, and sat down with a moan from the pain.

  Heidi had been right.

  She wouldn’t have lasted much longer in a standoff. The sight of her right-angled pinky in her peripheral vision would’ve made her falter, aim swimming, and either Frankie or Heidi would’ve capitalised.

  Would’ve. Should’ve. Could’ve.

  Didn’t matter.

  They were dead.

  At the edge of the flood control channel, Danny finally got to his feet. He’d been cowering in the dark, hurt but not crippled like King had initially thought. Made sense. He didn’t have a gun. Involving himself in the standoff couldn’t have led to anything productive or beneficial.

  Danny limped over to meet them. He couldn’t take his eyes off Frankie. King noticed the confusion in the young man’s gaze. He barely glanced at Heidi — she obviously meant nothing to him — but the dynamic seemed intimate with the man who’d taken him under his wing, served as a coach and a mentor. For better or worse, Frankie had shaped his young life. Danny must know he was a monster, but humans are infinitely complicated creatures. As much as Frankie was scum, he’d let Danny live with him for over a year. He’d taught him everything he knew about martial arts. That couldn’t be easily put aside.

  King understood. He gave Danny space, kept his voice hushed as he faced Alexis. ‘You okay?’

  She nodded, but didn’t get up. Underneath the grazed skin and swelling, her face was pale. ‘Yeah. Think so.’

  ‘That was a brutal fall.’

  ‘Worse for them.’

  He wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the tumble down the embankment or something else, but as he watched her gaze at the soulless bodies of Frankie and Heidi, it didn’t take long to put it together.

  She said, ‘The news is going to have a field day with this. Heidi’s still the flavour of the month.’

  ‘And her death will be the flavour of next month,’ King agreed. ‘But the month after that there’ll be some other outrage. Something else to distract people from their lives. That’s the way it goes.’

  ‘We should get back to Boston as fast as we can.’

  ‘Yeah,’ King said. ‘There’s only one thing I’ve got to take care of.’

  She didn’t need to ask what that might be. The answer was obvious. King left her cradling her relocated finger and turned and walked over to Danny.

  He hadn’t taken his eyes off Frankie. It was like the dead man had a spell over him. All he needed to do was look away to break free.

  King said, ‘I think perspective is important here.’

  Danny shook his head, his posture deflated. ‘This is crazy, man. This is so crazy.’

  ‘It could have been far worse. If I’d come along later, who knows what might’ve happened? Who knows where you’d be?’

  Danny didn’t answer.

  King said, ‘If I hadn’t been there to get you removed from the murder crew, would you have done it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  It sounded like the truth. There was really no way to know. You can’t predict how you’ll react to external influences until you make the decision in the moment. If King was honest with himself, he knew deep down that Danny would’ve complied. Would’ve gone along, maybe even participated, not just watched.

  There’s no point dwelling on what might’ve been. King had forced him away, and maybe saved his soul in the process.

  King said, ‘It’s normal to grieve someone who was part of your life, for better or worse. So don’t blame yourself for that. You know what Frankie did. You know what he was capable of. But you were close to him. There’s no denying that.’

  Danny nodded slowly.

  King said, ‘I can’t stay. We’ll be gone by the end of the night. Me, Will, Alexis here.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Danny said. ‘Figured.’

  ‘I’ll give you a phone number. If you ever find yourself in a bad spot, in the darkness, I want you to call. I get that might seem odd after what just happened, but will you do that for me?’

  A pause, then, ‘Yeah.’

  King didn’t interpret Danny’s lack of talkativeness as anything other than shock. Why wouldn’t he be quiet? The kid had a ton to process. King honestly thought it was done. The weight was already off his shoulders when he turned from the scene, went to put a hand on Danny’s shoulder and walk him away.

  Danny stepped back, out of reach.

  He was trembling.

  King stared at him. ‘What?’

  Indecision tore at the young man. King could read it plain as day on his face. Danny’s eyes darted left and right, mouth opening and closing, his cheeks collapsing.

  Again, King said, ‘What?’

  ‘B-before,’ Danny stuttered, his eyes wide like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. ‘When you sent me away from the gym last night. It…it wasn’t my first time. I lied to you.’

  Now it was King’s turn for his face to fall.

  Danny said, ‘I killed someone for Frankie.’

  74

  King could see the look in Alexis’ eyes as she stood off to the side.

  Mild discomfort, but beyond that a sense that this wasn’t her conversation to hear, wasn’t her judgment to make. She didn’t know Danny, didn’t seem to deem herself capable of passing down justice. She looked at King and made a face. He nodded. She turned and walked and receded into the background.

  He watched her disappear with a surreal filter over his vision, like Danny’s revelation had separated him from his emotions and perceptions, made him go somewhere else so he didn’t outwardly react.

  Beside the bodies of Heidi and Frankie, King faced Danny. Kept himself composed, because letting anything out would jeopardise the flow of information. ‘How many times?’

  Danny trembled. ‘Just the once.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me.’

  ‘I’m not. Not anymore.’

  Hot wind blew down the channel’s concrete slope, tousling their hair. Neither of them spoke.

  Danny said, ‘I chickened out twice. Frankie said, if I didn’t make the third one happen, I was gone.’

  ‘Gone how?’

  ‘That’s all he said.’ A deep breath. ‘“You’re gone.”’

  ‘What do you think it meant?’

  ‘I don’t know. Does it matter?’

  Silence. King had to admit to himself that it didn’t. He
was hoping, praying, for some way to sweep it under the rug. Like, If Frankie had a gun to your head, then you had no choice.

  There’d been no gun to Danny’s head.

  Coercion, maybe. Manipulation. Threats. All of it provides important context, but none of it offers an excuse.

  King said, ‘Who were they?’

  ‘He was a board member.’ Danny glanced at Heidi’s body. ‘For her company. His name was Jack. Frankie and Heidi did all the leg work, put me in position with…’ He trailed off, took another breath to pull himself together. ‘With a cover story. I was an investigative journalist or something. I didn’t know the full details ’cause I didn’t have to. Just had to tell him my name was Finn so I could get him in the door. Then I put on gloves to protect my hands and…’

  He hunched over.

  ‘Oh, God,’ he whispered.

  King said, ‘I thought Carter was the one who went by Finn.’

  ‘We all did. Heidi kept falling back on the name, re-using it. Don’t ask me why.’

  King couldn’t stay still any longer. He paced back and forth across the channel, sidestepping the corpses, raising his hands and placing them behind his head. He looked up at the stars. His thoughts spiralled, passing through his conscious awareness too fast to latch onto.

  Danny didn’t move. Didn’t even rock back and forth on his heels, or shuffle side to side. He just stood there, the gravity of his revelation setting in.

  King stopped in front of him, looked him in the eyes. ‘You could have kept your mouth shut. I never would’ve known.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why’d you tell me?’

  ‘Because, like, you’re not doing this for money. Everyone I ever met only ever did anything for money. Maybe I got unlucky, but that’s the way it is. That’s all I ever learned. Do anything to get ahead. Dad taught me that when he wasn’t thrashing me, and I saw it first-hand. He lied, he stole, he cheated. And he’s still in that trailer park. Frankie taught me it, too, and Frankie’s—’ Danny turned and regarded the coach’s glassy-eyed stare ‘—well, Frankie’s right there. Then you come in and you don’t seem to be doing this for money. I don’t think anyone’s paying you, because why would they? For this?’