by Dan Lawton
Back outside, I walk past George as he sits on the steps and head for the van. I hop in and move it to the end of the driveway to block the scene. The pool of blood is crusted to the pavement and neighboring lawn, and the side of the van has some splatter on it too. The side without any blood faces the road. Without saying anything to Alicia, who stands speechless near the van, I make my way back to the front steps where George is sitting. He points me in the direction of the shed behind the house, so that’s where I go to look for a hose.
The shed is just steps from the back door that I poured the grout compound out of, and I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t notice it before. The grass around the door is crusty, and the roots of the blades are already beginning to turn yellow from the lack of oxygen. I push the door to the shed open and it squeaks loudly. I see the hose almost immediately as it hangs on the wall next to the lawn equipment, and I nearly trip on something as I make way toward it. On the floor to the left of the door are three seemingly loose wooden planks, and one red nail specifically catches my attention. I step on the planks with both feet, and their flex springs me up and down. I step off and kneel beside them, and pull up on the corner. The three floorboards all pull up together, as they are somehow stuck together with an adhesive. I pull them up just enough so I can see what lies beneath.
A cold black hole stares me in the face and I wonder how deep it is. I’ve heard of people having these before, but I’ve never actually known someone to have one until now. If it’s what I think it is, it’s perfect. A thick plate of steel lines the underside of the floorboards and an oval steel brace is welded to it. I suspect there is a chain down there somewhere that attaches to a similar setup at the bottom of the hole. One end of the chain would connect to the brace on the underside of the floorboards, and the other end would connect to the brace down in the hole to keep it closed. No human could open it from inside the shed, and it may just be strong enough to outlast a tornado. It’s a nice setup. I drop the clump of connected planks and they snap back into place, covering the hole.
I find the water hookup near the back door and attach the open end of the hose to it. I unravel it as I walk back around the house. It stretches all the way to the end of the driveway, so I hand it to Alicia. I give her some brief instructions to use the hose like a pressure washer and to try to clean the area the best she can. She begins and I head back up the driveway and up to the front stoop where George still sits. He’s still quite pale, but his color is slowly coming back. I can’t imagine he’ll react well if he catches a whiff of the odor that seeps from under the bathroom door.
He confirms my suspicion of what I think is inside the shed, and I know right away how we can utilize it. It’s an underground bunker, which isn’t uncommon in this area of the country, and it’s absolutely perfect for what we need. I’m surprised that someone like him is paranoid enough to invest in a bunker, but I’ll take it. He can grab the money and hide out in the bunker while I eliminate the intruders. This may work out better than I thought, and I’m suddenly reenergized, realizing that tonight is the night the Zved’s are finally going down.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
GEORGE
Deep inside the bunker under the shed, I sit impatiently with the bag of cash in my lap. I sent Billy a message three minutes ago now, but he still hasn’t responded yet. He said to give him five, but I’m starting to worry. I don’t think they saw me, I don’t know how they could have, but I don’t know that for sure. The perspiration is covering my face and neck and the knot of anxiety is heavy in my chest. The phone vibrates in my hand and startles me, but I flip it open almost immediately and read the message: Billy’s here, finally.
Now I wait.
I slow my breathing and try to listen to the activity above ground. If I hear two gunshots, everything went to plan. If I hear more than two, well, hopefully I don’t. Billy’s going to sneak in the house and ambush the two guys from the Zved’s by planting a single bullet in each of their skulls. By the time the second guy figures out what’s going on after his partner falls to the floor, it’ll be too late. It sounds simple enough, but there is no alternative plan if something goes wrong. Billy will be obliterated and they’ll come find me, one way or another. I close my eyes and hold my breath, hoping I’ll hear something. Or hoping I don’t, I’m not too sure.
It’s been two minutes, and I’ve heard no gunshots. The bunker is lined with concrete, so much of the outside sound is muffled. Above my head I hear the squeak of the shed door opening. My heart falls into my stomach and my hands start to shake. Footsteps shuffle above and I can tell the loose floor panels are being pulled up. There is only one guy for sure, so either it’s Billy, or something went terribly wrong. If it’s Billy, why didn’t he just send me a message? The thought of this sends a chill through my spine, as something doesn’t feel right. I have no weapon and nowhere to hide. This is it.
The final nail pops out of the floorboard and I can feel the air rush down the shallow tunnel. It brushes against my arm and cools me instantly. The goose bumps crawl from under my skin and I shiver. The air is not cold, but the shock of it makes me feel otherwise. Maybe this is my body starting to shut down and preparing for death. A familiar voice echoes through the tunnel.
“George, are you down there?”
“Billy, is that you?” I yell back.
“Come on out, let’s get out of here.”
I exhale and a sense of relief takes over me. I grab the bag of cash and push it up the tunnel, then I crawl my way out to freedom. Billy greets me as I pull myself onto the wooden floor of the shed. His hands are covered in blood. We make eye contact as I rise to my feet.
“It’s over,” he says. “It’s finally over.”
“I want to see them,” I say.
Billy cocks his head, surprised at my request.
“I need to see for myself, just to be sure.”
Billy shakes his head in agreement. “Fine.”
He grabs the bag and tosses it over his shoulder, then he exits the shed. I follow closely behind him. We enter the downstairs through the back door and make our way across the room to the staircase. The removed tile rests tilted on the hole in the floor with the broken grout scattered across the area. I had thought I left it looking cleaner than that, although I did leave in a rush. We go up the stairs, head down the hallway, and into the living room.
Two bodies are face down on the carpet with blood pooling around them. Both men were shot execution style and have wide holes exploding from the back of their skulls.
Okay, I believe him now, they’re dead.
I push my hand to my face to stop myself from vomiting, then I rush past the bodies and slide out the front door. I get out just in time, as the fresh air keeps me from puking. Billy walks out and closes the door behind him shortly after.
“Who are they?” I say, turning to face him.
Billy brushes the question away. “I’m not sure.”
“I thought you said before that you recognized them?”
“I was wrong.”
Billy looks away and I can tell that something is bothering him, but I don’t press further. We stand beside one another as the sun continues to fall and the moon begins to rise. The sunset is a vast array of autumn colors, and it pulls me away for a moment. A feeling of relief comes over me, and I can’t resist the desire to smile. It’s kind of twisted, I realize, that I am grinning like a boy as three dead men are inside my house and I’m partially responsible for two thirds of it. The thought brings me down a bit, as I now realize that I’m forced to move away and start over somewhere new. I turn to face Billy.
“So, what, we leave them and we go? Just like that?” I say.
Billy hesitates. “Not exactly.”
His response causes me concern. “What do you mean? That’s what we talked about.”
“We’ll leave in just a minute. You can go wait in the van, I’ll be there in a second.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“Now? Can’t it wait?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Billy continues to stare at me and I can see there is no convincing him otherwise, so I have no choice but to do as he says.
I walk over to the van and slide in the passenger’s side. I watch as Billy makes a phone call. The discussion is heated and I can tell Billy is getting some satisfaction from it all. The call lasts for more than five minutes, and when he’s finished he throws the phone to the driveway and smashes it with his foot. I turn away as he approaches me and the van. The door opens and Billy slides in next to me. He slams the door before starting the engine with the keys that were already dangling from the ignition.
“Who were you talking to?” I ask.
“The cops.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
BILLY
The ride back to the old police station is tense. Alicia and George are in their customary places in the back of the van, sitting across from one another while I drive. We review the plan one final time before we drop Alicia off. She’ll stay behind and clean up the place. Truthfully, I think she’d be a liability if she’s with us during the action, so I had convinced her to stay behind. She didn’t offer even the slightest resistance, as I’m sure she’s doesn’t mind being out of harm’s way.
She has instructions to leave by 10:00 P.M. if we’re not back. It shouldn’t take very long once the guys show up, so if we’re not back by then, something has gone very wrong. I don’t care what she does if and when she has to leave, as I’ll probably be dead. George too.
In the garage, I open the back doors and help Alicia out. “I’ll see you soon,” I whisper in her ear as she steps out. “We’ll hit the road as soon as I get back.”
She nods, but seems distant, anxious I assume. She walks slowly to the door of the station and goes inside without looking back.
George joins me in the front seat at my request, and I confess to him. I share with him in few details that it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. What he takes from it, I don’t know, but I just want him to know that this part wasn’t supposed to happen. If I would have known that the Zved’s were going to be on to us so soon, I would have figured out a way to eliminate them well before this. I act out my best sympathetic self, but I’m not sure he buys it. The real reason for my sympathy though isn’t because I feel bad for his involvement, because I don’t. We picked him strategically as we thought he would be just dumb enough to follow along, and we were right. I’m playing games with him, and it’s all just part of the master plan.
My next move is clever, I think, and it protects me. I tell him I want to give him some of the money when we’re done. His eyes widen with excitement, but he tells me he doesn’t want the money. I insist and he does eventually agree, just like I knew he would. George is going to be all alone with the bag of cash, the cash that I worked so hard to find, just sitting in the bunker under the shed. An intelligent person would take the money and run and leave me inside to fend for myself. He could even take the van and leave me stranded with three dead bodies, but he won’t. Not anymore. I don’t think he would have anyway, but he has surprised me before, so I can take no chances with him. By offering him some of the money upfront, he won’t have the temptation.
I smile to myself, impressed with my own wit, as we head to the store to pick up a couple of pay-as-you-go disposable wireless phones.
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Back at George’s house, I wake up from a nap at 7:30 P.M. but stay on the couch for another fifteen minutes without moving. I go over the plan in my head one more time, as the repetition helps to keep my mind active. The smell of Frank’s decomposing body is becoming repulsive, although I can hardly tell it’s there anymore. I head down the hallway to find George, but he’s not in his bedroom. With nowhere else he could be, I head downstairs, where I find him pacing.
The new grout on the tile in the middle of the floor is dry on the outside, and it looks almost natural. It will take another day or so to dry at its core, so George will be able to break through it pretty easily when the time comes. The toolbox is under the stairs with the needed tools inside, and everything is in place. George doesn’t want to discuss the plan again, so I don’t press. We’ve been over it four or five times now, and there is nothing further I can say at this point. He has his role and I have mine, we just need the Zved’s to show up so we can put the plan into action. I give George one of the two phones that we had picked up at the store earlier this afternoon, and head back upstairs.
I walk out the front door and close it behind me. I hop in the van and move it up over the hill. I park off the road behind a cottonwood tree and turn off the ignition. I manually roll down the window with the crank handle and I light a cigarette. I smoke it slowly with long drags and flip on the radio for some company. I lightly hum the tune as I wait for the alert from George.
It’s been nearly thirty minutes and I’m out of smokes already. I stare at the digital clock on the radio and wait for the number to change. The cottonwood behind me completely blocks my view of the road, so I’m unable to tell when someone drives by. I hear a humming engine as the clock switches to 8:27 P.M., and I suspect it’s them. I spit my gum out the window and crank it back up before starting the engine. Less than a minute later, my phone vibrates.
It’s go time.
I wait thirty seconds before pulling out into the road, and I leave the lights off when I finally do. I ride the brakes down the hill and slowly creep into the driveway. The Zved’s are in a luxury sedan this time, a Cadillac, and it shines with fresh wax. I send George a quick text, confirming that I’ve arrived. I check that my gun is fully loaded before stepping out of the van. I spin the chamber and watch the bullets revolve around like a Ferris wheel. I’m nervous now, and I do what I can to keep my hands steady. I’m finally about to get my chance at revenge.
I think about my father and all of the memories we’ve had. I think about all the good times and all the struggles, and I think about the night that Adrian and his men took him from me. I’ve dreamt about how things would be if he were still around, and I’ve dreamt about this moment right now. In my dreams, I always come out on top. I check my gun again, cock it, and prepare to make my dreams come true.
I take a few steps along the side of the house and peek at the shed. The door is swaying slightly on its hinges, which means George must already be inside. He moved quickly, and I’m proud of him. Now it’s my turn.
The sun has almost fallen completely behind the trees, but it doesn’t stop me from sweating profusely. My mouth is dry and my crack is swampy, but I make my way back around the front of the house and approach the front door anyway. The door is pushed open completely, but there is no sign of our guys. I shuffle my feet across the carpet and crouch down next to the couch. The power in the house has been killed, just as we discussed, so the room is dark and shadowy.
The gun is in my right hand and my finger is on the trigger. Down the hall, I can hear footsteps approaching. There are two male voices, and they seem to be arguing about something. The voices become clearer as they make their way back into the open living room.
“Where the hell are they? I thought you said you saw him through the window,” the first voice is deep and unfamiliar, and I’m guessing he’s the one in charge.
“I did see him, and he saw me. We made eye contact,” the second voice is also unfamiliar and not nearly as deep as the first. He sounds young.
“Where they fuck are they then? Huh?”
“I don’t know. I saw that guy though, I know I did. They must be around here somewhere. They couldn’t have gone far.”
There is a brief pause and I’m concerned they can hear my heart beating out of my chest. They apparently cannot, as the first one with the deep voice continues, “You better hope you saw him. We can’t go back without the bodies.”
“What do we do?�
��
My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I can see the outlines of the two men standing just feet from me. I’m just waiting for the perfect moment to make my move.
“We’ll wait them out,” the man with the deep voice says.
“What about the other guy? The big guy?”
“We can put him in the trunk. It’s already lined with plastic. Let’s go.”
The bigger of the two guys takes a step toward the hall and heads for the bathroom. The smaller guy turns too, so both of their backs are to me.
Now’s my chance.
I push myself to my feet and tiptoe behind the two men. I raise the gun and aim it at the big guy’s head, the one with the deep voice, and pull the trigger. He falls face first to the floor as the bullet tears through his brain. I load the next bullet into the chamber by flipping my thumb on the hammer and point it at the smaller guy’s head. I pull the trigger before he can turn around, and he too falls to his face.
Just like that, in less than two seconds, both intruders are dead, and the blood is already soaking into the carpet. I lower my gun and briefly observe my work for any movement, even though I know there is no way they’re alive. I crouch down next to them and flip them over individually. The smaller of the two guys, the young one, is unrecognizable. He has a full beard that is nicely trimmed and he can’t be much more than twenty. He must have been a new recruit. I slide over to the second guy, the bigger one who appeared to be in charge, and look at his face. I recognize him immediately.
His name is, was, Bruno Sanchez, aged forty-six and a veteran of the Zved’s. He must have been a mentor for the new guy. He was one of Snake’s right-hand men and one of the few that my father could never put away. I’d remember that face anywhere. My father had his photo hanging up next to three others besides Snake on a bulletin board in his office. Bruno was one of my father’s main targets, and many think he was the last person to see my father alive.