by Drew Blank
“I don’t know, Willie. He’s got to still be here.” Damon pulled himself up using the counter. With the office’s fluorescents now shining on his face, I could see Damon was no older than fifteen. His skin was as dark as Willie’s, but he had a naive innocence to his expression that made you almost feel sorry for him. He was too young to be involved in this kind of thing. There was no telling what the relationship between the two was, but from their almost identical complexion I felt it would be safe to assume they were related.
As I quietly watched from beneath a batch of low hanging comforters, it occurred to me I had no idea what to do next. This was nothing like what I had been doing the previous nights. Personal gain was an easy motivator for me. When I knew that after delivering a severe beating there would be something in it for me, I could focus on the task at hand. I had impulsively stumbled into hero territory and that was not my gig. The only hope I had was that the two thieves would have more cash on them than what they stole from Mr. Chin and the whole thing would be worth my while. But I was not holding my breath for a large haul.
“Hey Freak!” Willie called out into the store. “Where you at?”
“Willie, let’s just get out of here.” Damon tugged on Willie’s arm, frightened. I enjoyed seeing the effects of my reputation.
“Don’t be such a pussy! Go find him!” Willie shoved the young boy into the dark. Remaining motionless, I waited for one of them to get close.
“Come on out, Freak.” Willie taunted me as he reached into his coat. Surprisingly, he was not brandishing a fire arm, as I had grown accustomed to my adversaries carrying. He pulled out a crowbar. I do not claim to be an expert on crowbars, but it did not seem to be as big as the ones I have encountered in my life. It was a convenient pocket-sized crowbar, maybe maxing out at fourteen to fifteen inches. Regardless of its size, it was obviously strong enough to break the front glass and jimmy open the door to Mr. Chin’s office. The swearing and yelling from earlier made me think it was not strong enough to bust open a safe. It was, however, plenty strong enough to break my skull if I gave Willie the opportunity. The fact that he was not running proved that he was looking for a fight. I would have to be ready.
Slowly, I positioned myself behind the cumbersome blankets into a squatting pose, so I would be ready to pounce. The alarms blaring over our heads made it easier to stay hidden. While I did try to stay quiet, the small rustling noises of me readying an attack were heard only by me. Damon was getting closer.
Damon’s age was a concern to me. I had already crossed a line I didn’t think I could cross by fighting, and eventually killing, a girl. A kid, however, just seemed wrong. I felt sorry for Damon. It seemed he was here because he had to be and Willie was not giving him a choice. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to get out without a fight and that fight would inevitably involve Damon. I slipped my hand into the bag and fished around for the stun gun.
“D’you see him?” Willie called out as if he were half a mile away. His use of Damon as the tester of the waters was despicable. Crowbar or not, it was obvious Willie was just as scared as his young accomplice.
“No!” Damon responded in a yelled whisper. “Maybe he’s gone.”
“Nah. That freak’s here somewhere.”
“I dunno, man…” The only thing between Damon and I at that point was a paisley comforter wrapped in plastic, hanging from the ceiling. This time I had the upper hand and I used it.
Without hesitation, I reached around the suspended comforter, wrapping my left arm around Damon’s torso, holding the now extended baton to his throat. Using my right hand, I jabbed the prongs of the stun gun into his neck and immediately squeezed the trigger. The young boy convulsed for a moment before falling to the floor.
Willie’s reaction time was instantaneous. Before Damon even hit the ground, Willie was on the attack, crowbar above head. The stun gun would do me no good, because this charging bull of a man would never allow me to get close enough to use it. The baton was my only hope. I jumped over Damon’s unconscious body to offensively counter Willie’s building momentum and swung the steel rod directly at his head. Blocking my blow, Willie swiped the crowbar to my forearm, forcing me to drop my weapon and rendering me momentarily frozen with pain. Whether the bone was broken or not, I had no idea, but the pain was unbearable.
I fell back a few steps, trying to distance myself from a now furious Willie, hoping to get a second to pull myself together. I was granted half a second. The crowbar came down again, this time across my ear. I will admit, I do not know much about science or the human body. It was not a subject I excelled in during my stay at Donnelly House. However, I now know that there is a direct link between the eardrum and the stomach. It’s as if the human ear inexplicably has an ON/OFF switch to the digestive system. The ringing in my ear was so intense I hardly noticed the fact that I was vomiting all over Willie, and myself.
“What the fuck?!” Willie recoiled, trying to avoid the spray. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I assumed he was not waiting for an answer, as I was too busy collapsing to process his question. Willie was frantically rubbing vomit off his hands and chest with a shirt he had pulled off the racks, while Damon was groggily getting to his feet.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, D!” Willie yelled to his underage partner, obviously unnerved by the extreme turn their routine break-in had taken.
The sirens from the alarm still echoed through the shop and through my skull. It was becoming increasingly evident to me that I was beaten. Defeated. That was a feeling I was not used to and certainly not happy with.
The best plan would have been for me to let Damon and Willie escape and then limp back home to safety before the police finally showed up. Having never been one to follow the smartest plans, I lunged at Willie’s legs as he tried to sprint past me. Burying my head into the back of his knees, I applied all my weight and brought him down to the floor with me. Damon jumped on my back, pounding me with punches that aggravated, but in no way compared to, the screaming pain coursing through my ear and head. I blindly threw fists, hoping to land a punch anywhere, on anyone.
Willie had hit the concrete floor face first, further mangling his already brutalized face. The red blood pouring from his nose glowed against his dark skin in the light from the office. His intention was to run away and not deal with me any further. I had rekindled his flame. One kick to my jaw knocked me off Willie’s legs, bringing Damon down with me as he still clung to my back. Willie climbed to his feet and loomed over me as Damon and I lay on the ground exchanging punches diminishing in power with every throw.
“You are dead, freak,” Willie threatened as the crimson gusher continued to flow from his nose. “I ain’t goin’ down as easy as those other pussies.” He spit a thick mass on my chest that I was sure consisted mostly of blood.
“But will you go down as easy as your mother?” With a migraine already piercing my brain and an arm that was more than likely fractured, why I chose to anger Willie even more I still have no idea. Anything for a laugh, I suppose.
“You fucking piece of shit!” Willie raised the crowbar over his head and brought it down with both hands in what I am sure was intended to be a finishing blow. If I had not pulled Damon over onto me as a shield at the last moment I would have been able to discover the impact of the strike. I did know it left Damon screaming in pain and unable to get up, so I imagine it would have had an undesirable effect on me and my body, as well.
With Willie momentarily distracted by the misplaced attack on his cohort, I threw Damon off of me and sprinted for the counter.
“You mother fucker,” Willie was now seething with anger as he stalked towards me. “You couldn’t just mind your own fucking business? Now look what you did to my little brother?” As I suspected, they were related.
“I hate to point this out, Willie, but I didn’t do that. You did.” I pointed out glumly.
“Fuck you!” He charged at me again, this time waving the crowbar wildly in my d
irection. With my good arm I pulled myself onto the counter that the cash register sat upon. Although the counter only elevated me four feet in the air, the blow to my ear had left me dizzy and unable to keep steady on my feet. I fell to my right, grabbing for anything to keep me upright. A huge roll of plastic bagging bolted to the wall acted as a good crutch. I feebly kicked my feet out towards Willie, in hopes I could deflect at least one or two of his attacks. The roll I was holding on to was a dispenser for the oversized bags Mr. Chin would wrap the clean garments in. It was firmly affixed to the wall, but unfortunately I was only holding on to one of the bags at the end of the roll. I fell to the ground, with dozens of plastic bags unrolling behind me. Willie easily shifted the direction of his swings and delivered a shot to my shin.
On all fours, I clutched one end of the plastic roll and scrambled behind Willie. He pivoted to keep up with me, so I moved quickly. Being on the ground, I was well shielded by the darkness, keeping my actions a mystery to Willie. He frantically swung the crowbar towards the floor, hoping to get lucky. I had circled Willie’s legs twice with the garment wrap before he could catch on to my plan. Scuttling away allowed me a large enough window of opportunity to pull myself up against the wall. The moment Willie saw me he advanced.
“You just don’t fucking quit, do you asshole?” Willie
boomed over the sirens as he started towards me. With all the energy I had left, which was severely limited, I yanked my end of the plastic bagging, forcing it to tighten around Willie’s ankles. The sudden jerk pulled his legs out from under him, sending his body crashing to the ground once again. This time, as he stumbled back, his head knocked into the counter. More accurately, his head actually bounced off the surface. I heard the smack of bone and flesh against the laminated wood.
Before Willie could shake off his tumble, I lunged forward, relying on my weight to momentarily incapacitate him. With a knee to the groin and a feeble but mildly effective fist to his jaw, I grabbed Willie’s shoulder and spun him to his front side, twisting him further in the bags. It only took seconds for me to have his stunned body captive within a plastic cocoon. As he came to, it was abundantly clear to him that the situation had changed. I was now hovering over him, trying to appear as threatening as possible.
“I will fucking kill you, mother fucker!” Willie frantically screamed.
“You, sir, will do nothing of the sort.” I waved my finger in his face tauntingly. “Now shut up.” I brought the plastic binding to his mouth and circled it around his head. A few more layers of the bags around his body constricted him nicely. His struggling was futile.
My strength was definitely hindered by the potentially broken arm and the weird inner ear thing I was suffering from. The chances of me moving Willie were slim. He would have to stay right where he was. I limped over to Damon, who was on the floor, shaking and crying, nursing what had to be an immense amount of pain. I did feel slight pangs of regret for using the young boy as a shield, but it was him or me. Hopefully it would teach him a valuable lesson. With some remorse, I pulled his temporarily paralyzed frame over to his brother. Leaning Damon up against Willie, back to back, I proceeded to wrap the brothers together in a pliable, yet relatively impenetrable, casing of plastic laundry bags. I felt I should win points for the humiliation factor, but no one was keeping score.
“I’m really going to need you both to apologize to Mr. Chin for me. You have made a mess of his place. Totally un-neighborly of you.” I forced the words out with a chuckle, but it felt more like a cough. “Now you guys be good. I’m sure the police will be here soon.” Before I left, I ran to the office and retrieved a sheet of paper and a big black permanent marker. I quickly fashioned a sign to leave on the two hoodlums.
“Oh, and Willie,” I whispered into the seething criminals ear “Maybe we could just keep the puking thing between us, okay? That’d be great.” I jokingly asked as I taped the message to his chest. “Well, I’ll see ya fellas later. Make sure to tell your friends about me.” I blew a raspberry in their direction, along with a middle finger salute and disappeared through the exit, the cry of police cars in the distance. That sound was quickly becoming the soundtrack to my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The sink in the guest bathroom at Mama Mema’s was pink with watered down blood. I was pretty sure bleeding from the ear is never a good sign, but I convinced myself the blood was coming from an actual abrasion caused by the crowbar and not some sort of internal hemorrhaging. The emergency room was not an option and I had a feeling internal cranial care was outside of Tom’s area of expertise. I simply put my head under the faucet and let the warm water wash away anything that may cause an infection within my eardrum. After flushing out my ear and lifting my head from the sink, I became light headed and collapsed to the cold tile floor. If I didn’t have to get back to Moxie, I probably would have chosen to just stay there for the rest of the night. Instead, I pulled myself to my feet and hobbled out of the bathroom to raid Mema’s first-aid kit for gauze and aspirin.
With my arm tightly wrapped and over-the-counter painkillers coursing through my system, I made it upstairs to get some much needed rest. When I got to my room I discovered Moxie sleeping peacefully, sprawled out on the bed. The note was still under the shoe where I had left it. My absence must not have disturbed her slumber. A glance at my phone revealed I had only been gone for a total of forty-five minutes. I guess time doesn’t fly when you are getting the shit kicked out of you. It felt like I had been at Mr. Chin’s for hours. All I wanted was to lay down in bed with my little girl and fall into a week long coma. Unfortunately, Moxie was going to be up at the crack of dawn, which was fast approaching. I climbed back into bed, careful to not awaken the sleeping angel beside me.
The room would not stop spinning as I lay in bed. I have never been drunk, but I have a feeling that was what a hangover feels like. Why people willingly do that to themselves is an eternal mystery to me. To keep myself from getting motion sickness, I focused on Moxie and her peaceful face. Her lips curled up in a smile as she slept. Her dreams must have been a welcome escape from reality. As I watched her sleep it occurred to me I had to be there for her. Doing what I did at Mr. Chin’s was foolish and I was not only risking my life, but in the long run I was taking away any chance of a life she had as well. I wasn’t sure if it was the tremendous pain I was in or if it was the guilt I was feeling about putting Moxie in jeopardy by leaving her alone while I almost got myself killed, or a fair combination of the two, but I laid in bed and sobbed.
Phil and Jim were hard at work getting me set up for a very profitable business. This thankless vigilante work was just too dangerous. If Cross needed a hero, it was not going to be me. The world be damned, I was in it for the money.
My weeping must have alerted something in Moxie’s subconscious, because she sleepily scooted closer and clutched onto me tightly. She had no idea how much she meant to me. Within minutes, I was asleep.
“Daddy?”
I felt like I had been asleep for exactly seventeen seconds when Moxie woke me up, kneeling over me. “Are you okay, Daddy?” The concern in her face was so genuine. That little girl always made me smile.
“I’m great, sweetheart.” I told her, trying to appear like I wasn’t in excruciating pain. “I think I just slept funny. Someone must have been taking up the bed,” I jokingly accused her as I tried to straighten myself into a sitting position.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She leaned in and hugged me, finishing the embrace with a kiss on my chin.
“How did you sleep, darlin’?” I inquired lovingly, as I wrapped my good arm around her.
“Good. I don’t think I woke up at all. I love your bed.” She beamed as she bounced on the worn old mattress. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t my crappy bed that she could attribute to her good night’s sleep, but rather the absence of her crazy mother.
“Well good.” I wiped the sleep out of my eyes, but couldn’t shake the concussion I was obviousl
y nursing. “What time is it?” A migraine would have been welcome at that point.
“Six-thirty. When are we going to school?” School. Shit. I forgot all about taking her to school. My place was not within her busing routes so I would either have to take the half hour walk or ride her on my bike and cut the time in half. I was in no shape to ride around with her on my handlebars. We’d crash by the time we hit the curb. Walking was out, because even if I got her all the way to the school, I wouldn’t make it home. It was time to call in a favor.
“We’ll leave in an hour. Why don’t you get cleaned up and ready, then we’ll grab some breakfast.” She loved breakfasts in Mema’s kitchen. Occasionally Mema would even prepare something special for us. However, the kitchen sounded calm that morning, so it looked like it might be a cereal day. While Moxie began digging in her bag for school clothes, I pulled out my phone and made a call.
After several rings I was greeted with a sleepy, but pleasant hello.
Why the hell are you calling me this early, you jackass? Twisty was always so sweet in the mornings.
“Need a favor.” I quickly got to the point.
And it can’t wait until at least nine, when normal people wake up?
“Sweetheart, normal people are usually at work by nine.” I corrected her.
Whatever. What do you need? She asked in mid-yawn.
“I need you to drive me and Moxie to school.”
What? Is it raining? Why can’t you walk? Or put her on your bike? She was obviously confused.
“I can’t. Long story. I’ll explain later. Can you please pick us up? I’ll buy you a donut and coffee.” I pleaded with a bit of bribery.
Fine. She said after an even longer and louder yawn. When do you need me there?
“Half hour too soon?” I asked.
No. I can be there in a half hour. You’re lucky I’m crazy about that kid, cuz I would leave your punk ass on the curb. Twisty was terrible at sounding tough.