Danny runs the sink on his cigarette. “That part doesn’t matter. The old man’s cornered. I told you, your uncle was a smart bastard. He moved on from the IRA and built a business elsewhere with any partners willing to suspend common decency in the name of a dollar. He maintained, hell, increased his clout and sway.” He walks over to one of the smaller fridges near the sinks and fetches two beers. Pops the bottle tops off with his belt buckle and hands one over. “You should have kept away from any of this bullshit. You stirred the pot enough back home.”
I sip my beer. Swallow. Scratch my chin. “How many of those hits you think were ex-IRA business?”
Danny shrugs. “Does it matter?”
Yes, it matters. The people I struck down, if they were all connected to Sean, well, maybe that didn’t make them the victims I thought they were. There’s a huge difference between popping a fella who owes a few grand and ending someone who car bombed a school or helped fund other wackiness overseas.
“I feel like an asshole.” I kick the wall—hard. Dishes rattle near me. Danny’s right. It doesn’t matter what any of those people did or knew. I can’t rationalize what I’ve done anymore. The time for that is long past.
I point to the door that leads out to the dining area. “And what the hell is up with the PLO sisters and the goon?”
Danny frowns. “Did them all a solid. They do me the occasional solid back. I don’t pull your lone-wolf bullshit.”
“Can I trust them?” I look into his eyes. “Shit, Danny, can I trust you?”
“Not sure how asking that repeatedly is gonna make my answer any true. Maybe?” He reads my face. “Yes?”
He’s right. No use in asking. “Wonderful.”
“Get used to the girls, though. I paid them to help you get out of the fire before you found yourself in a military jail waiting on your day of judgment.”
“Why? What do you owe me?”
“I remember us as friends. I got other reasons, sure. Rest assured I ain’t working any side here save my own.”
“I get no background on that?”
“Is it gonna inspire a sudden rush of trust from you?”
“Probably not.”
We stand there for a few silent seconds. I decide to break it. “So, what’s the catch, what do you need from me?”
Danny squints and pulls his cigarette from his mouth. “No pussyfooting around, then. I got a gig for you.” He points at my chest with the glowing red cherry. Nearly catches me with it.
I watch him. Check for tics, anything that could mean he’s playing me. I take in my surroundings. There’s a drawer filled with knives directly to my left. A few pots and pans to the right. Behind me and around the corner from the industrial fridge is a door that leads to the basement. Down there is a cellar door that leads to a parking lot in the rear. No guarantee of getting there, but if there’s a time to book it, it’s now.
He grins. Slips his cigarette back between his lips, but at the corner so it hangs limp. “You’re making the planning face.” He jabs two fingers toward me. “I remember that face. You’d make it whenever you was about to do something bad or stupid or both. I seem to recall nursing many a wound after seeing that face.”
“You might be right.” I edge to my left—slow.
Danny draws what looks to be a Luger. It’s gold and covered in ornate patterns. The handle’s a black lacquer finish. There’s a word inscribed along the barrel. I think it says “Jackal” or maybe “Jackie.” Any other time, I’d admire the thing—it’s beautiful. Should have waited longer to try this crap with him.
“Be easy, Mutters.” He gives me a roguish wink and clicks his tongue.
I raise my hands. Drop my smoke, but not my beer. “How is this supposed to keep me at ease?”
“It keeps me at ease, you horse’s arse. Hear me out before you go straight to your normal plan of blood and guts. And honestly, I get it: it’s hard to trust anyone right now. But ask yourself: why the hell would I go out of my way to see you in person? Those girls could have ended this without effort. Hell, it’s not as if you made it difficult—the trail of bodies is what we followed.”
“They were shooting at me. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Fuck rationalization, Bryan. You’re about the most violent fella ever walked the green earth. No, take a breath, hear me out, and I promise you can get right back to bullets and blades—all the stuff you love.”
“It ain’t like that.” He’s right. The path to here’s been bloody. Shit, it’s so bad, I could have swum here. After what I had to do to Liam, though. No. Something needs changing.
“…street whore…” Liam’s standing at the corner. The shadows swelling behind him. His eyes have gone white and he’s chewing on his tongue. Globs of black meat fall from his mouth and smack at his bare feet.
I look away and finish off my beer. I’d rather stare at the gun, to be honest.
“I’ve had time to think.” Danny leans against the sink. The gun remains trained on me. He aims the gun at my chest and then my head—more pointing than threatening. “You always liked it. Wasn’t the guilt from doing the deeds that made you sick, nuh-uh, you fucking liked it.”
I look at my feet. The air’s feeling thick—hot. That shadow at the edge of my sight swells. There’s a buzzing inside of it. “Can we get to the point? You can analyze my ass another time.” The dark feels closer. It’s like I’m covered in a hot, wet towel. The kind a barber wraps your face in before a straight razor shave.
“One last gig. You take out Paulie. Peg him as the rat. That should clear shit up with Sean—hopefully. Make him feel safe again enough to poke his head out. Maybe we can get the heat off your ass long enough to send you into exile somewhere sunny.”
“What do you get out of all this?”
“When your uncle pokes his head back out, I get to be there to put a hammer between his eyes.” Danny pretends to fire his gun at the wall. “We keep this business, and maybe we can even get along.”
That’s a complete surprise to me. “What beef do you have with Sean?”
“Personal matters is all. None of your concern.” The gun is brought back my way. If he wasn’t so damn nonchalant about it, maybe it wouldn’t piss me off so much.
I grind my teeth. Side-eye the shadowed mass now beside me. I feel pinpricks at the back of my head. An insistent presence goading me on, telling me to act out, take care of everyone in here and walk away. All too familiar of a feeling. I find myself doing the math on whether I could take more than one bullet and still deliver a killing stroke with a paring knife. The odds are obviously against me, but it’s a better option than standing around and being looped into yet another screwed-up situation.
“You okay?” Danny leans in.
I nod. “Yeah, I was wondering why you’d think I’d be okay with setting up my family.”
“Come on, now. Sean Shea? What love have you got for that rat bastard?” He counts his fingers with the Luger’s barrel. “He exploited you, your mum, and your fucking brother. You said yourself that he and your grandpa despised each other.”
“Bullshit. You’re tossing this all on me to get my buy in.”
“Believe what you want, Mutters. I can put a bullet in your skull and get the same results. Figure this other option’s good karma and just as easy on me.”
“Baby killer.” Liam’s voice is crystal-fucking-clear.
Liam’s cold, weighty hand clings to the back of my neck. He leans into my view, blank faced, eyes closed. As if he was still on that damn hospital bed. My thoughts drift to those days where I talked at him for hours. Where the only sounds between us were the hisses and beeps of machines. This close, I can see something lives in the creases of Liam’s faded flesh. His skin ripples like water struck by a heavy stone. I hear the clank of metal against metal. A low-pitched whine mixed with the buzz of the gnats.
I rub my eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” I tell them.
“Make a choice.” Danny’s not jovial anymore. He moves to me and grits his teeth. “Make the right one.” He stops short. “Wait. What is that?”
I step back. Feel a little relieved; maybe I’m not crazy after all. “You hear it too?”
Danny raises a hand to shut me up as he concentrates on the noise. His eyes go wide. “Fucking hell.” He tackles me right when the earth shakes.
Then I go deaf, dumb, and blind.
21
I’m no expert, but I can say that in my experience, being in the other room when small-scale demolitions go off tends to hit like a sledge hammer. My ribs and back ache. Ears ring. It takes a few blinks for my vision to stop fraying white at the edge. I feel Danny’s weight on top of me. He’s not slack—thank God. I punch his back a few times. Go at it a little harder than I should, but hey, he had a gun on me. “Danny? Danny, get up.”
He groans. “Right, right.” Danny rises and rests on his knees. Dips a pinky into his ear and inspects it. Relief washes over his face. “Was expecting blood.” Looks to me. “You all in one piece?”
I run my hands down my pants legs. Glad to find I haven’t pissed myself. It’s happened before. Shockwaves from an explosion have a habit of messing a person up in more ways than the movies show. The walls near the door leading back into the dining room are torn up bad. Cracks and holes scatter along what was fresh sheetrock only seconds ago. There’s a layer of fog in both rooms. We lucked out—whatever popped went off in the dining room. I notice Danny’s unarmed now. His Luger’s next to me. I scoop it up and offer it to him handle first—like a gentleman.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Here’s your piece.”
Danny eyes the gun. “Really?” His eyes dart up to read my face, then head back to the gun.
I thrust the stupid thing at him. “I ain’t about to fuck with you when I think we have other problems.”
“You’ve got a better head on you than I do about now.” He takes the pistol and slips it into the holster at his waist.
“Think this is Paulie?”
“I know it’s fucking Paulie.”
“How did he know where we were?”
“Your cunt of a mum, pardon the insult, wasn’t thrilled about the meet-up. Probably called your uncle to confirm I was here on his say-so.”
Danny and his revelations. “Hold on a sec. She’s got a direct line to him?”
“It’s a pet theory.”
My brain’s still too shook up to do any kind of math or gymnastics. “Whatever, to be continued.” I reach out to him. “Give me a hand.” Funny how an explosion can build a bond. This level of security with each other has a short shelf life, though. If I see opening, I should take it. I’d be better off alone.
Danny gets to his feet and helps me up to mine. I walk to the drawer nearest me. Find myself the biggest knife available. The walls nearest the rear exit are blown to hell as well. I motion to Danny. “They might try to jump us from the back.”
Three shots pop in the dining area. I try to run toward the ruckus, but I nearly flop to the ground when a dizzy spell hits. As the world stops spinning, I see Liam sitting on the stove with his legs crossed and his chest puffed out. His eyes are hollowed, but he’s smiling. The shadows and walls are breathing. He seems to be enjoying the show.
“Fucking hell. Stay here. Make sure nobody catches us off guard.” Danny barges through the door. Another volley of shots comes after. I hear the scattering of plaster and drywall on the tile floors.
While he’s off playing O.K. Corral, I make my way to the basement to check and see how bad the damage is on this side. I stumble down the stairs. The cellar door’s blown off its hinges. The sun’s pouring into the room. It makes the dust in the air fog my vision. Scattered pieces of wood and metal litter the floor. Most of the inventory for the kitchen’s been wrecked, spilled into the corners. My nose stings from the smell of pepper and tomato sauce in the air. The daylight’s tempting, but there’s a lack of any movement and noise—I ain’t stupid enough to poke my head out without a piece. I turn on a heel and get back upstairs. Lock the door to the basement for now, but I have a feeling it’s getting used again real soon.
“Figured you beat feet.” Danny’s back in the kitchen. The gorilla’s sitting on the floor nursing a bullet to the left arm. His face is covered in plaster dust and scratches. Danny’s got an arm around Ayah’s waist and she’s fighting like a drowning rat to get back to the dining room. She shakes her head and screams—the dust clumping on her cheeks from mixing with her tears. I don’t see Hannah.
I don’t know these girls, but I can’t stand here and let Ayah lose her sister. Not because of me. They were dragged into this because of me—just like Liam. Just like anyone else that’s suffered because of my shit life decisions. If I move now, maybe I can save a life for a change. It won’t change anything I’ve already done, but that doesn’t matter.
I march over to the gorilla and snatch his piece from his waistband. I shove him aside. He doesn’t put up a fight. I make a dash through the door back to the dining room. Danny yells, but I’m not sure if it’s at me or Ayah.
I burst into the dining area and something whizzes by my uninjured ear before I dive behind a booth. No pain or heat. Double-check and get no blood when I bring my hand back. Win—no injury. I move slowly to the edge of the booth. Try to avoid errant slivers of glass from shredding my hands apart. I feel something slide into my left shin, but I can bear that for now. I poke my head out a second and spot Hannah’s shoes at the other end—six booths away—right by the blown out front door. I see an RPG launcher sitting on the floor near Hannah. What kind of psycho outfit does Sean have working for him that brings an arsenal to a random street in Yonkers?
I pop a few blind shots above cover and make a break for it. Manage to get myself over to the opposite set of booths. I can see her clearly. She’s not moving. There’s someone hunched next to her with his back to me. I take aim and squeeze the trigger three times. The bullets find their target and he falls forward. I buckle back down. Liam pokes his head from the opposite side of the bench I’m cowering near. He’s smiling like we’re sharing drinks. Brilliant. His fingers beat against the upholstery and leave little black spots behind.
I look up to my brother. “You need to figure out if you’re my comic relief or if you’re something from a Japanese horror flick.”
“…coward…” Liam’s grin gets wider. I wish he would speak his damn mind. Wonder what it would take to get him saying more than the bullshit he did before I beat his face in. Maybe that’s what’s frustrating. I can’t fight back. The words will be repeated, and they’ll burn as bad the originally did.
I go to reload the gun. Realize it’s gorilla’s piece. Just my luck. “Not much of a choice right now. Safe to say this is self-defense.” More bullets explode the cheap wood and upholstery above me. Stuffing blooms from each hole.
Liam eyes my gun.
“Little more than half the clip left.” I have no idea why I bother talking to him. Probably keeps me feeling less crazy than I am.
“…whore…” And he’s gone.
Ain’t much I’m going to accomplish talking to myself while waiting to get shot, so I may as well charge out all Butch and Sundance. I position myself and take a deep breath. Never fun to mentally prepare yourself for a bullet. It doesn’t work out quite the way you expect it to because, well, bullets.
I hear a scream behind me and Ayah darts by. Her coat’s gone. I can see her scars are worse on her face. They discolor the area around her right eye. What I thought was a leather gun strap is some kind of harness that crosses over her left shoulder and runs down the arm. At the end, where her stump is, I see an angry-looking piece of metal slide out of a leather holster when she flexes her forearm. The blade that pops out looks like the end of a fancy fountain pen. Only much, much bigger.
Ayah hops over a display stand that once housed ancient baked goods. The first of the two remaining gunmen makes the
mistake of popping out from cover and Ayah springs forward, driving her blade into his throat. He shakes like a leaf. Tries to bring a hand up to free himself from the blade, but it’s a lost cause. Ayah plucks the gun from his hand as his partner comes up to take a shot at her. He catches two to the chest and one to the head for his efforts. She pulls her blade from the first corpse. The room’s silent. If there’s anyone waiting outside, they’re taking a break before hell starts all over again.
Ayah runs to her sister. Leans over her and looks to me. “Help me,” she says.
I bound over to them. Hand Ayah the gorilla’s gun and scoop her sister up in my arms like a child. She’s covered in burn marks—severe. Patches of her are opened and raw. Bits of glass, concrete, and metal pepper her from head to toe. The skin on her arms is loose—heat must have near degloved her left arm from elbow to wrist. The way she hangs slack—rag doll—gives me no hope for a happy ending. Ayah nods me toward the kitchen door and covers us as we walk over. I kick the two-way door open and lay Hannah down on the cold, tile floor.
Danny rushes over to Hannah. Checks her pulse and parts her lips. “She ain’t breathing.” He tries to deliver CPR. Compresses her chest a few times. No mouth to mouth. He keeps the cycle going. Ayah paces behind us like a jungle cat, her breathing heavy.
I feel useless, so I wander over to check on the gorilla. I place a hand on his good shoulder. “You need any help?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good.”
“You got a name?”
“Yeah, Ian.”
“All right, Ian. Sorry we all had to meet like this.” I turn to Ayah. Motion for Ian’s gun. She tosses it over and goes back to her pacing. I turn back to Ian and hand him his piece. “You keep an eye on the basement door. There has to be more of ’em.”
Ian straightens up and nods. “What about you?”
I stand and walk back to the door leading to the dining area. “Salvage. Danny, scream if ya need me.”
Danny ignores me. The CPR’s getting frantic and I can see Ayah’s beginning to crack. There’s no room for me here. Out I go. Make a quick run. I grab a gun from one of the dead—Smith and Wesson. Again, with the sirens in the distance. I need to watch it before I get used to that. I grab a few clips to keep myself from getting in another ammo situation. A cold chill runs up my back and into my neck. I stop short and scan the room with my eyes. Hear myself breathing. I can feel the shadows watch me.
Hell Chose Me Page 14