Steady Madness

by Mike McCrary

  The burning starts upon impact.

  An insane amount of pain spreads from my stomach out to the rest of my body. Air escapes my lungs, only to be filled with smoke as I suck in. Looking down, between the smoke, rain and the newly formed white globs I see blood. Mine. A ton of it. I’ve taken a bullet to the gut. I hold my stomach tight as my legs give out, dropping me to my knees into the mud.

  I hear another pop.

  A clump of mud explodes next to me. I raise my gun and scream out into the void, blasting as many shots as I can at the figure up ahead. The shadow gunman spins, stumbles, then falls. Grinding my teeth, I push myself up from the sloppy ground. The pain is like nothing I’ve ever known. Can’t be sure, but the unbearable pain might be the thing that’s keeping the white globs in check.

  My body betrays me.

  I fall back into the mud.

  I feel hands pick me up.

  “Come on,” Sandy says, helping me up. “Let’s finish him.” She gets me to my feet.

  The smoke parts for a second, giving me a clearer view up ahead. Gordo is hauling ass down the driveway toward the lone Yukon parked in the road just off the driveway. I see Jonathan crawling on his hands and knees in the muddy yard toward a gun a few feet from him.

  I feel around.

  Find it.

  Grip my bat.

  “Get Gordo,” I tell Sandy.

  She doesn’t have to be told twice. She takes off, cutting through the storm like the physical specimen she is. I push myself hard toward Jonathan. He’s fighting with everything he has left to get to that gun. Sliding and slipping through the mud and slop. There’s a snail trail of blood behind him. I use my bat as a cane, using it to speed up my stumble-trot toward him.

  I consider shooting him. It would be like popping a fish in a barrel. So easy. I drop my gun.

  This ends only one way.

  White globs rush in. I can make out the crawling Jonathan through the cracks between the closing globs. This is as bad as it’s ever been. The pain from the gunshot tears through every cell of my body. But as much as it hurts, not even that can hold back the globs my brain loves so much.

  I’m almost on top of him.

  He reaches the gun.

  “Jonathan!” I scream out until my vocal cords strain and tear.

  He spins over, flopping to his back with his gun dead on me. I whip my bat around, smacking his gun away. A hear his wrists snap above the crack of lightning. His wails in pain like a wounded animal.

  Monster down.

  Thunder booms.

  The globs have all but taken my vision. I feel myself draining, falling, slipping away. Hard to tell if it’s the globs or the gunshot that has me on the ropes. My energy is limited. My thoughts are even more so. I have only one thought left in my head.

  “Teddy!” he calls out.

  I raise my bat.

  “I love—”

  I bring my bat down. The thump is unmistakable. The vibration hums up through the bat to my arms.

  I think of my parents.

  I raise my bat up then slam it down. Harder this time.

  I think of my parents watching this.

  What would they think?

  Proud? Sad? Indifferent?

  I feel neither pride nor sorrow. I’m running on an emotion undefined.

  I bring my bat down over and over again.

  I think of Mama McCluskey.

  I can see nothing now. My vision has shifted into a screen of complete white. My mind spins out of control. My body goes limp. The cool mud feels nice on the side of my face as the rain showers down on me. I’m truly peeling away from the world again.

  Can’t even feel the bullet in my stomach.

  Everything has become distant, like a TV playing in the back room of the house. I hear thunder roll. I hear the crackle of the flames taking my house away from me. I hear Jonathan cough and gurgle next to me. I hear his last gasp.

  For the second time in my life, my father has died.

  This death, however, I’d like to remember.

  Everything goes black.

  Chapter 43

  The feeling I’m living is one of floating and sinking all at the same time.

  A strange sensation of comfort, but with a complete loss of control. Very hard to explain, but letting go of everything is very freeing in its own way. At least I tell my broken brain that I let it all go.

  I know different.

  I know that it was taken from me.

  I allowed it to be taken from me.

  I was the architect of my demise, and I’ll have to float and sink along knowing that. Have to let that shit go, though. I did what I did and I can’t do a damn thing about it.

  Not now at least.

  Not much going to happen in this sorry ass state.

  Did a lot of good, I think. I had a good run, right? Not all good, but some of it. Looking back, it was a life constructed and jammed together with parts both rough and smooth. Held together by spit and glue, but it was what I had and I made the most of it. There’s things to be thankful for. No doubt.

  I’m thankful for meeting my brother.

  I’m thankful for the good people I found.

  There’s things to be pissed about. No doubt.

  I wish I knew my parents. Wish I knew what having a mom was all about. Nothing against knowing my dad. Would have loved that relationship too. Very much so, but I hear and have read a lot about the mother / daughter thing and it sounds nice. Also read and heard a lot about that relationship being a complete disaster, too.

  I’d take my chances.

  Like to know for myself.

  Think that’s fair. Unfortunately, I think it’s impossible at this point.

  Pretty sure I did know at one time, however. There was evidence to suggest that it was pretty good at one time. I saw it. I saw it on their faces. The faces of those people in that picture in New York. Those people knew about family and how that all works. They were happy and having fun. I realize it was me and my parents in the picture, but it wasn’t at the same time.

  I’m a different person.

  Been reset. Erased.

  This person, me, the one floating and sinking in the black, I have no idea what that family bit is all about. Not having a whole helluva lot of fun at the moment, either. The fear and hate has left, but the wanting is still there. A dull rub at the back of my skull asking for a connection. As I drift in the darkness, completely numb and done with it all, I have not a clue as to the joys or the pain of having a family. Got a taste of it with my brother. I liked it. Like to have more of that family bit. Again, I think that’s fair.

  Maybe I will one day.

  Maybe I won’t.

  No complaints.

  No bitching.

  They call me Steady Teddy. These are the facts, and they are undisputed.

  Chapter 44

  One lid cracks open.

  My mouth feels like a cat crapped in it.

  Not sure what in the hell is going on.

  Not sure what day it is or where I am, but it feels like some time has passed me by. Time I’ve lost. I blacked out, that much I do know. I also know it was brought on by more than the normal horribleness. I was under violence-induced stress. That’s what does it, all right. That’s my trigger. Sprinkle that and serve me up some bodily harm and I drop like a sack of potatoes.

  Feels nice to see the humor in it all again, I guess.

  I must be feeling better.

  As my eye scans images into my jumbled brain, I see that I’m laid out in a room. A room I do not recognize. Looks like a room in a nice home. Not a hotel, and certainly not my house. I’m also not in a hospital, a morgue or a grave, so that’s a good sign at least.

  My sight is blurred, but I can make out earth tones and shades of what seems like things made of wood. Fuzzy, grainy squares hang on the walls. I imagine nice pictures of pleasant things. The sheets smell clean and fresh, and are soft. Each molecule of my being screams out, bitching abo
ut the aching. Every inch of me either tingles with the flutters of healing or hurt.

  Hurts like hell.

  Real bad.

  “How you feelin’?” a woman’s voice asks.

  My head whips to the right. The pain is sharp and immediate, but I couldn’t control it. There sits a woman, late thirties, maybe forty, but not too deep into her forties, if at all.

  She’s pretty. Not by standard definitions I guess, but she has a warmth to her with a dab of Texas grit. Dirty blonde hair hangs over her shoulders. Her eyes are alive, dancing almost. There’s a kind smile across her makeup-free face. Patiently, she’s looking at me, waiting for an answer. She actually wants to hear what I have to say about how I’m feeling. Was not just being polite about it.

  “I’m okay,” I say, smacking my lips. My mouth is dry as a desert. “I’m alive.”

  “Yes, you are,” the woman says, handing me a glass of water with a pink and blue-striped bendy straw in it. “Barely. You’re busted up pretty good, but yes, you are still here.”

  I take a long sip, then pull away. Questions must be all over my face, because the woman doesn’t seem to need anything else from me before she starts talking.

  “You’re Steady Teddy, right?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know the answer. I know damn well she does, but I nod all the same. “I’m Joanne, but everyone calls me Joe. Oh yeah...” She thumbs toward the end of the bed with a wink. “I’m also his mom.”

  I whip my head forward. Hurts even more.

  I don’t bother attempting to mask my surprise.

  My happiness.

  Skinny Drake is sitting at the foot of the bed watching Full House. His back is to me and he’s eating something off a tray, like an old TV dinner tray. I want to kick him and I want to hug him. I want to beat the shit out of him then hug the shit out of him, but I can’t do either. I’m a broken mess, and I’m not sure his mother would appreciate the kicking, the beating or the hugging. I can’t speak. I feel my smile. It’s wide and it’s completely genuine. I feel a scab crack, but I’m so damn happy he’s here that I don’t even care.

  “He tells me you saved him,” Joe says with a crack in her voice.

  “Think we saved each other, is more accurate,” I say with tears forming.

  “That works too.” Joe helps me lean back and adjusts my pillows. “I saw you two were friendly. I thought he’d found himself a girl. Got mixed up with some girl who dropped him into some deep shit. But then I also saw you were kind to him. It was in both your eyes. We were watching for a while. Lost you two on that sex bus fiasco—Jesus, woman, that was a mess—but when I sent my boys into the hotel I told them not to go heavy. Meaning don’t kill you.”

  I smack my lips again. Joe hands me the water once more.

  “That’s why you didn’t die in that room, in case you were wondering,” she says, holding the glass for me. “I didn’t know who you were, but I knew that he liked you, and he doesn’t like too many people, so that means I couldn’t really put an order out on you, right?”

  I nod. Who the hell is this woman?

  “He told me everything. Well, everything according to him. He doesn’t talk much. More than positive that he’s left some stuff out, but I’ve gotten good at digging it out of him.”

  I snicker. She knows her boy all right.

  Skinny Drake turns his head back briefly, but doesn’t make eye contact before turning back to his favorite damn show.

  “We came back after you. Me, him and some friends of mine. Tried to find you after he told me about you being his sister and all. We were about a step or six behind. Didn’t miss you by much, but got to Tahoe too late. Got to your old house almost way too late.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “No need.” She waves my thanks off. “But you’re welcome. You’re his sister, Teddy. That means a whole lot of something to me. That Jonathan was a real piece of work, but I don’t regret my brief time with the man. It gave me that boy, and now you’re here. With that said, I heard what that man did to you. If you hadn’t killed him, I would have done it for you.”

  She leans in, clears her throat, pulls a flask and takes a swig, then continues. “I met Jonathan during a job years ago. The truth is, I had a one-night stand that turned into a kid who stuck around for many, many nights.” She smiles off the look that must be on my face. “You see, I do things too. Not as much as the old days, but as you might imagine, it involves things that are not strictly legal. Neither ashamed nor proud. It simply is.”

  I nod. I do understand. I’ve got a ton of questions, but I let it go for now.

  “I know you get it. From what he tells me, you’re familiar with doing what you gotta do.”

  I nod again.

  I look to my brother.

  I can’t believe he’s just sitting there. Actually, I can. That’s him being him.

  “I know,” she says, noticing me watching him. She leans in closer and lowers her voice. “Kind of unbelievable with that one, but don’t take it personal. He cares so much that he can’t take it, so he avoids it. But don’t think it’s because he doesn’t care. Jesus, he cares.”

  I nod. A tear rolls.

  She wipes it away with her knuckle and flashes me a grin.

  “Come on.” She jerks her head toward the door. “I’ve got something to show you. Besides…” She thumbs again toward my brother. “He’s crying. Let’s give him a sec.”

  Looking over I see his back making quick, uncontrolled movements. His shoulders shake ever so slightly. His head is down. I want to reach over to him. Want to tell him it’s okay, but his mom’s right, and she knows him better than I do. But I feel good that at least I was on the right track with him. Don’t push him. Let him be him and he’ll get there.

  Joe helps me up to my feet.

  Once again, every molecule of my being screams out in pain.

  My toes throb. My thighs quiver. Everything burns. I can feel my blood move through my body as if it were made of tiny razor blades. She puts one of my arms over her shoulder and holds on to my waist. She’s small, but strong. It’s like I’m holding onto a five-foot-nothing piece of iron.

  As I’m coming around more, I can now tell that my initial thoughts were spot-on. This is a very cozy home. Nice and well kept, but there’s a down-home charm to it. It’s warm and inviting and a place you’d like to hang out. A home to spend some time in.

  I’m hurting like hell and it’s hard to walk, but my new strong-as-shit friend has me. She glances toward me, looking for the green light to start moving. I grit my teeth and let her know it’s okay. We pass by the front of the bed. I steal a quick look at Skinny Drake. His head is pointed directly down, refusing to look at us. Joe gives me a pat on the waist, letting me know it’s okay and to let him be.

  We make it out into the hallway.

  My steps are small, microscopic, but Joe’s very patient.

  The house is still projecting warm and cozy, but out here there are two men with shoulder holsters, tats, beards and long hair. Not the polished goons in dark suits who made up Jonathan’s army, but they serve the same purpose, I’m guessing. Muscle is muscle. The wrappers might change, but the product remains the same. Joe gives them a nod with a scrunched-up nose. They smile at me and return Joe’s look with a nod. One gives us a salute before walking away. There’s a casualness in their nonverbal communication, but make no mistake, Joe is running things around here.

  “Oh yeah,” Joe says, remembering something. “Some money probably hit your account. A million hit my son’s yesterday.”

  “That dick,” I say with a snicker. “Was supposed to be two, and a hundred grand in cash.”

  “Lucky you got anything.” Joe chuckles. “Nothing wrong with a million.”

  “True.”

  “Haven’t seen any cash, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

  I wonder if Sandy got ahold of him. I wonder if she got hers. If they struck some kind of deal. The money doesn’t really matter at the moment. I know
it will later, of course it will, but right now I hope I can talk to her at some point down the line. Really, I just hope she’s okay. I could give two shits about Gordo.

  “What did you want to show me?” I ask her as we labor through each painful step.

  “Here,” she says as we reach a doorway. “I think you know these clowns.”

  I look into the room.

  A room much like the one I was just in, only this one has two single beds. Laid out in those two beds are Rosie and Rondo. They look like I feel. Like shit. Like hell. Bandaged. Black and blue with cuts and burns scattered on the exposed skin that I can see. No telling the depth of the wounds that I can’t.

  “They okay?” I ask, holding back my swelling emotions.

  “Doc says they’ll make it. They’re lucky as hell, too. We pulled them out of that raging fireplace in Tahoe. Figure we missed you by a minute or two. Had to work quick, with the cops coming like they were.” She stands me up straight, holding on to me, making sure I have my balance before she lets go. “We let those other sons of bitches burn though.” She holds her hands on either side of me, making sure I don’t topple over. Like a mother with a newborn. “Look, I know you lost your folks’ place.” She moves my chin so I can meet her eyes. She’s got a point to make. “And you don’t know me from a hole in the ground, but you’ve got a home as long as I got one. Get me?”

  I feel a tremor roll through me.

  I wrap my arms around the back of her neck and squeeze tight, hugging her with everything I have left in my body. I try, but I’m not able to fight back what’s been thrown around, suppressed and neglected inside of me, what’s been dying to come out. My feelings are flooding unchecked. Ones that have been buried for a long, long time.

  “Love you,” I tell Joe. Not sure why that came out, but it did.

  “Like I said before, you don’t know me and I save my love yous for when I mean it. Not something I throw around.” She clears her throat then whispers into my ear. “But I’m going out on a limb with you and assume that I’ll get there. Real soon. So, love you too, Steady Teddy.”