The Big Bad

by Phil Beloin Jr.

He knew my position so I said, "What, you bastard?"

  "This ain’t your fight, bud."

  "Is now."

  "Are you helping these people with their photography?" he said.

  "Hell, yea!"

  "Never would have thought it."

  "I think I’m in love," I said.

  "Huh?"

  "Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m in love."

  "That’s nothing to me."

  "For the first time."

  "With Irv’s girl?"

  "Yeah, Pamela."

  "She’s on my list."

  "No doubt."

  "Tell you what."

  "Forget it."

  "Back off right now and I’ll pretend you didn’t take your gun to me. I’ll even let you go—never saw you here, man."

  I didn’t believe him for a nanosecond. He couldn’t let a witness live. And I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him complete his contract on Pam.

  "Yeah, right, Tom Boy."

  "Then I’ll have to kill you, too."

  "Give it your best shot."

  "I’m gonna, mutherfucker. I already got you once."

  And he fired again, peppering the rock. He had more ammo than I did, coming to pick a fight, and so he could shoot almost at will. From how the bullets were striking the rock, he was still over by the side of the cabin. He couldn’t get around me from there—too much empty ground by the driveway and stretching to the right before the woods began. I figured he’d have to come back to the front yard, work his way in from that direction. Unless Big Mama was doing that right now. I didn’t see a sign of her, but it was said for a fat woman, she could glide like a stealth bomber.

  All right, Nick, time to fight back before you run out of blood. I fired at all the shrubbery by the front of the cabin, laying down a hot masking fire, hoping to get lucky. I emptied my weapon—not getting any return fire—and reloaded with another clip, red steaming down my arm while I did it. Nausea rippled my stomach and my limbs shook. I was chilled in ninety-degree weather.

  Losing too much juice, I thought. Couldn’t do a damn thing about it now. The stone chipped around me again, chunks cutting my face. Tom Boy was on the sly, heading towards the side of the cabin, trying to get on my flank. I slid around the rock, keeping behind cover.

  I stuck my head out again, spotting a figure in the backyard. It was Teddy sprinting for the barn, head down, taking awkward strides. Tom Boy didn’t see him, and I thought Teddy was going to make it, when a shell ripped into one of the barn doors, tearing it loose. Teddy leapt over the sudden obstacle like a high hurdler and dashed into the shadows.

  Thanks, kid. Big Mama had missed you, and now I knew she was back there and not an immediate threat to me.

  But Tom Boy still was. More rounds flew into the rock. I knew what he was doing, forcing my head down as he moved in for the kill. My shoulder burned bad, blood flowing like water from a tap. I was getting dizzy on top of everything else. If I lost consciousness, I was meat for sure.

  Motion to my left. I held the gun over the rock, and pulled the trigger. Tom Boy fired back. Then I heard more barking, a base guttural snapping, before I saw the crazed Rottweiler racing from the barn. Teddy had released him at Big Mama, the dog moving as fast as he had at me earlier in the day. He didn’t get very far though, his head disintegrating into a billion wet chunks while his torso flopped to the ground in a quivering heap. Big Mama had stepped into the open and put a stop to his threat, one round being all she needed.

  Eddie kicked open the door to the basement, facing the front yard, his shotgun held low in his arms. The barrel burst and shook. Tom Boy flew through two tall spruces, his body spinning towards my position, his shirt torn and bloody, gut shot bad. His face frozen in shock, Tom Boy buckled over like a chopped tree, his lifeless body bouncing once off the ground and disappearing in the tall grass.

  Big Mama turned towards the new threat. "HA! PORNOGRAPHER!" she said.

  But Eddie was waiting for her, down on a knee, shotgun cradled in his shoulder. His second barrel winged her and she fell, her rifle lost. I stood, raising my .45 as she reached at a pistol in the front of her jeans. My vision was hazy, legs trembling, the gun fluttering while I took aim at her squirming figure. Eddie put another shell into the shotgun and snapped back the stock. He took a step closer and fired without hesitation. Big Mama went out like the Rottweiler.

  Eddie noticed me down by the driveway. "It’s okay, Nick," he said. "I got’em both."

  "And I got you, asshole," I said.

  I sighted the .45 on him. He looked dumbfounded, the shotgun by his side.

  "Nick, what the...!"

  I squeezed my index finger and a bullet thudded into Eddie’s chest. I don’t know who hit the ground first—Eddie or me.

  3 1

  When I came to, a bright light shined in my face. I turned from the overhead glare, staring at a cement wall. Turning my head the other way, I saw a wooden staircase leading up. I wasn’t in a hospital or a jail cell, but rather the basement of the cabin. I was stretched out on the bed, thinking that I had been strapped to it again, that Pam and Teddy knew I had gunned down Eddie. They had left me here for the cops. Or to bleed to death.

  I had a pleasant buzz going—not unlike being high—though, I had never smoked much dope, trying it a few times as a teenager. Pot had left me stupid and weak. I had always preferred the booze rush, which gave my aggression some direction.

  I tried to lift my foot—it rose an inch then two—before I lost strength to hold it up. My other foot was loose, too. When I moved my left arm, my shoulder complained with a dull throb. I thought it would hurt more—like when I had gotten plugged. The left sleeve to my shirt had been cut off, exposing a white bandage taped over the wound. A blackish blue circle a little bigger than the diameter of a bullet stained the bandage dead center.

  I heard soft steps coming from the stairs, and looking that way, I saw Pam limping down. She saw that I was awake, and hobbled over.

  "Oh my God, Nick!" she said, throwing her arms around me.

  "Watch the shoulder, baby."

  She pulled back. "Eddie’s dead," she said, tears welling up.

  "I saw them get him."

  "What the hell happened?"

  "Calm down."

  "I can’t. Eddie’s dead, god damn it! And I can’t find Teddy at all!"

  "Yeah, they were shooting at all of us."

  She wiped at the tears rolling from the corner of her eyes. "Who’s they?"

  I told her Irv must have stumbled across some of her photos.

  "But Eddie keep them locked in his office," she said.

  "And Eddie owed Irv money."

  "Oh, my God, I never thought..."

  So, I told her, Irv went looking for Eddie to get his money. One of those places would be Eddie’s place of business. Then, like me, Irv had heard Pam’s message on the answering machine and since Pam had mentioned the cabin during their prison blab sessions, here we were.

  "Damn it," she said after I was finished. "I should have never left that message. But I thought … shit!"

  "Eddie didn’t want you worrying about his debt, that’s all."

  "No, no, it’s my fault Eddie’s dead, Nick. I fucking killed him."

  "You didn’t do nothing, baby."

  "And I looked everywhere for Teddy and he’s nowhere around."

  "The last I saw him," I said, "he was running into the barn."

  "Well, he isn’t in there now."

  "Then he might be okay."

  "Or he got hit, made it to the woods and is…," she said.

  It was a possibility.

  "I heard the gunfire from the car," she said, "and I got up here as fast as I could with my knee hurting."

  "Better that you weren’t so quick," I said. "It was a hot fight."

  "How do you feel?" she said. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

  "I need a beer to go with my buzz."

  "No beer now, Nick."

  "Just one baby."

>   "Nick, I gave you a tranquilizer for the pain. I don’t think it mixes with alcohol."

  That explained my high.

  "Listen, you were bleeding real bad when I found you. The bullet went right through you—you got a hole in the back of your shoulder, too. I dragged you inside, that’s when I saw Eddie, I knew he was dead by the way he was lying there, I still haven’t moved him yet, I don’t know what to do with his body and there’s a headless woman nearby, and I nearly threw up."

  "You’re rambling, baby."

  "I’m sorry."

  "You were dragging me inside."

  "I got you on the bed, you were mumbling and screaming the entire time, I gave you the pill—it’s Eddie’s, supposed to help with his stomach issues—knocked you right out. I cleaned the wound with rubbing alcohol, the bleeding had almost stopped, stitched you up as best I could with some sewing thread, put that bandage on."

  "You did good, kid. How long was I out?"

  "Couple hours tops."

  "That means nobody heard the shots. The cops would have swarmed this place by now."

  "Oh, Nickie, what are we going to do?" she said.

  "Irv ain’t gonna stop until you’re dead."

  She took my hand in hers. "But you’ll protect me, won’t you?"

  "That’s what I’ve been doing."

  "You love me, Nick?"

  I looked her square in the eyes. The words came easily. "I love you, Pam. And I’m staying with you."

  She pecked my cheek and I felt a little warmth on that spot.

  "I gotta use a phone pronto," I said.

  "My cell doesn’t have service up here," she said, "and you’re not well enough to travel into town."

  "Check the bodies of the assassins."

  "I don’t think I can."

  "You got, too, baby. They might have cell phones with different service than yours."

  "Why do you need a phone right away?"

  "I gotta call Irv."

  3 2

  Irv was lying down on the round bed in the fuck pad when the extension went off. He grabbed the phone without looking at it.

  "Talk to me," he said.

  "It’s Nick."

  Irv sat up, running a hand through his afro-like hair. "Well, Nick Constantine, how goes it?"

  "I found her."

  "I knew you would."

  "She’s in a cabin here in Stitchfield County. Her brother Teddy told me about it."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. I just got around to checking on it today. Didn’t think it would pan out, but it did."

  "What was she doing up there?"

  "I think you know," Nick said.

  "How’s that?"

  "I got up here just as the fireworks were going off."

  "Ain’t the fourth of July, Nick."

  "I’m assuming you know about the pictures she was doing or you wouldn’t have sent Tom Boy and Big Mama."

  "And how do you know about the pictures?"

  "I got an album on my lap right now," Nick said. "Jesus, Irv, Pam ain’t very pure, you dumb ass. Christ, I’m getting hard looking at this shit."

  "Watch it, Nick. I still have that tape."

  "Hey, I’m holding up my end, Irv."

  "Where’s my team?"

  "They’re dead."

  "How’s that?"

  "I told you. I got up here as the guns were going off. Tom Boy turned on me so I had to put him down."

  Irv figured that to be right. No matter how good Tom Boy was, Nick always came out on top. "Who else got it?" he asked Nick.

  "Some dude with a bushy beard." Irv, thinking, good, that scum Eddie’s done with. "Big Mama’s lying next to him in a pile of mush."

  Irv didn’t care about that woman at all. "What about Pam?"

  "Well, that’s a problem."

  "She got away?"

  "Not exactly."

  "Then what happened to her?"

  "I didn’t have any choice. I had to."

  "Had to what, mutherfucker?"

  "She winged me in the shoulder with a .22."

  The line was silent. Irv waited then said. "And what?"

  "I killed her," Nick said. "It was self-defense."

  Irv’s chest started shaking. He had felt something for the girl and now it was coming out of him.

  "Irv?" Nick said. "Did you hear me?"

  Irv took in a deep lungful of air. "Either you or the team," he said. "Don’t matter who killed her."

  "So we’re cool?"

  "I need you to come in, Nick."

  "So we’re cool?" Nick said again.

  "Yeah, Nick, we’re cool."

  "Then give me some time. The mess up here could be linked back to me. I need to tidy it up, first."

  "You got till Friday. I don’t want you running on me.”

  "All right," Nick said. "See you then."

  "And Nick?"

  "What?"

  "You did good killing that bitch."

  3 3

  Pam and I watched the sunset from the deck holding hands like some happy couple on their honeymoon. Except I was still oozing blood because of her fiancé, and she had gotten pretty drunk, trying to blot out the images of the carnage all around us. I drank a couple of beers too, lying back in the chaise lounge, my head light and airy. Fucked up as I was on booze and Eddie’s muscle relaxers, I was having trouble putting thoughts together. She stared at the colors in the sky, an ice bag on her sore knee, which was propped on a chair.

  Well, I was gonna need some time to recover and clean up. Irv buying my bullshit was perfect. We wouldn’t have to hurry, could do the thing right.

  I watched some blurry crows fighting over the good stuff on Tom Boy, big chunks of meat snagged in their beaks. Even Van Gogh got into the act, bringing back a hunk to the deck, dropping it by my side, real proud of himself, talking at me.

  "What’s the cat licking at?" Pam said.

  "Forget it, baby," I said.

  She finished her can in a hard swallow. "You want another one?"

  "Yea, bring two more."

  She swayed inside, came back with more replacements. I gave her a smoke and she gave me a can.

  Taking a draw on the cigarette, she said, "How’s your shoulder?"

  "Can’t feel a thing."

  "That’s good."

  "How’s your knee?"

  "Can’t feel a thing."

  "That’s good."

  We didn’t say anything else until darkness came on, the toy boats way down on the lake docked for the night. The birds quit their fighting over the fresh meat—replaced now by the nocturnal creatures, which started the pushing and shoving all over again. I’d bet Tom Boy had never seen so much attention.

  "I’m still scared, Nick," she said.

  "You’ve seen some shit today you’ve never seen before. It’ll wear off and you’ll be fine."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "Look at me," I said. "I’m doing okay."

  "You got a hole in and out of your shoulder, your wrist looks like popcorn cooking in the microwave, and that bruise on your face is getting bigger. And with that grin on your face, I’d say you’re pretty fucking high."

  "I’m alive and so are you."

  She leaned into my good shoulder. "I’m drunk. Don’t take me seriously."

  "It’s okay, baby."

  She yawned and a beer burp came out. "I need to lie down."

  "Me, too."

  And with that, the happy couple limped inside and lay down next to each other for the first time.

  34

  Irv couldn’t go back to the house in Nova. There were little touches of Pam everywhere, pictures she had hung on the walls, trinkets on the end tables, organic foods in fridge, the rearrangement of furniture in the living room. He didn’t want to see any of her things. Later, he would ask Michelle to clean out her room upstairs.

  Lying on the fuck pad’s bed, he thought about having a drink. Scotch on the rocks sounded real sweet, could hear the malt crackling ove
r the ice cubes. But, no, that would lead to coke, and then more coke, and so on, get your ticket for the rollercoaster ride into despair.

  He’d keep his head clean, had to. But he couldn’t get Pam out of there. Her face. Her body. He grabbed a slide that was next to him.

  God, she had it all.

  And I took it away, he thought.

  He tossed the slide across the room. It landed next to several others.

  But she had to die, and thanks to Nick it had happened. She had asked for her own death. Hadn’t she? Begged him really, and now, Irv hated to admit it, he missed her.

  Christ, what’s wrong with me? I’m getting soft, he thought.

  For Irv, sleep wouldn’t come that night.

  35

  Sunlight streamed through an open window, bringing me back to life. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for living just yet. Neither was Van Gogh, snoozing down there between a gap in my legs.

  I had slept like the dead—by taking out Eddie, I had sated Mona and Lisa’s spirits and maybe all the other images attacking me in the night. I thought of Eddie’s death as a rebirth, a retribution for all the bad I had done.

  But I couldn’t roll off the bed. Some rebirth, Nick. My body was a disaster area that should have been cordoned off with yellow tape. I had a mouth as parched as the moon, a head pounding like a jackhammer, and a shoulder smoldering worse than a landfill. I decided moving wasn’t a good idea.

  I was on my back, Pam gone. Had she left me during the night? Taken my car and left me to wither? I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had. I remembered that she and I had gotten into bed fully clothed. I put my arm across her. She moaned and took my hand and rested it on a breast. We fell asleep like that.

  "Baby?" I called, my voice trembling.

  "Coming," she said, her honey tone drifting in the open door. "I’m in the kitchen."

  "I’m awake."

  "Hold on, I’ll be right there."

  And she was, carrying a tray holding a couple of mugs, two little containers and a spoon. She wore that bathrobe I had tried to untie—what?—a million years ago.

  "Good morning, Nickie."

  "Hey, baby."