Of Violence and Cliché

by Joudrey, M. C.

  Had I looked back though, I might had seen a glowing white lynx kneeling steadfastly, its soft blue eyes watching my flight with earnest, and what looked like a smile across its jowls as each bullet failed to meet its mark. I would have seen the death of my first white. I would have seen what hope looked like. I didn’t though. I just kept running.

  CHAPTER 26

  Haste and Prudence

  I had no time for finesse, so I put a rock through the driver’s side window. I unlocked the door, swept off the seat, found the rock and threw it away. I popped the trunk to see if I’d get lucky and find a tool worth using in the spare tire kit, and I did. I sat in the driver’s seat and forced the casing free beneath the steering column. Within seconds, the engine was running. I put the car into first gear, released the clutch and was gone. I instinctively looked into the rear view to see if anyone was following me.

  The cold night air felt soothing against my hot flesh. As it blew in through the smashed window, it dried the sweat all over my body. I had stolen a 1992 Toyota Tercel because people on the run steal old cars. Old cars are unsophisticated and easy to hotwire. People only steal a Benz in the movies.

  My hastily made plan required two stops. The first was to go by Karen’s. I hadn’t figured out what I would tell her, I just knew I needed to see her. When I finally arrived at her place, the front door had been forced open. The door hadn’t been shattered or kicked in and I could see it was a professional job. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I gently pushed the door open and crept through quietly, but once inside I knew I was already too late. Whatever had happened had happened a while ago.

  There were obvious signs of struggle. Chairs had been overturned and there was glass everywhere. A knife was on the floor, but no blood. That was the only good sign. I did a complete walkthrough just in case, but she wasn’t there. Someone had taken her. Arnie’s letter on the counter confirmed my worst fears. He had known about Karen all along and after tonight’s performance had decided to get his revenge on me in the worst possible way. He couldn’t have gotten to her before me, which meant he had taken her before the meeting tonight. This also meant he had me followed and watched.

  I grabbed an overturned chair and sat down. I had made a lot of mistakes. I leaned forward in the chair and put my face in my hands. I felt a massive weight of fatigue overcome me. I was weary, beaten, cut, bleeding, but worst of all I couldn’t think because I was just so damn tired.

  I knew I had some time. Karen was alive, I was sure of that because after Danika, Arnie would know I wouldn’t come for a corpse. Arnie was also the kind of animal who liked to watch another man’s pain and suffering, so he wouldn’t do anything to Karen until I was there. I needed to use the little bit of time I had to check my wounds and get some rest, if I was going to be able to help anyone. There was only place I knew I could do that, a place even Arnie didn’t know about. I was going home.

  I looked at the clock on the stove, which read 4:47. It was almost dawn. I went to the window and carefully moved the drapes aside and peered out. The night’s ink had choked the stars. I could tell it was going to rain hard.

  I took one last look at the place that had become my last refuge of grace. I was wrong to have believed I could have something like this for myself. It was selfish of me to have ever come to this place and put Karen in danger. I would do whatever I could to get her back to her life no matter what the cost, but first I needed to rest and get a clear head.

  I quickly wiped my prints clean and left Karen’s condo as it was. I returned the chair to its overturned position. Outside, I tried to start the old Tercel again but the damn thing would not turn over. I pounded my fists into the steering wheel and cursed. I cased the parking lot for another option but there was none.

  I checked my pockets to see if I had any cash. I found a crumpled twenty. I cursed again. A twenty wouldn’t get me very far and who knows what I might need it for. I put the bill back in my pocket. I would have to press my luck and hitch a ride. I was already exhausted. For a moment, I thought about crashing on a park bench but I waved that idea off. It was too dangerous; I needed to get out of sight.

  I needed to get rid of the Tercel as well. I put the car in neutral and put one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the frame of the broken window. I began to push. It only took a moment to wheel the car out of sight. I then wiped the car free of my fingerprints as well.

  I looked up at the tumultuous sky. It was going to piss down any second. The air was cold and the sweat had dried on me in a bad way. I needed to get moving. It was a long way to my mother’s place.

  CHAPTER 27

  May 30th 2006 - Running on Fumes

  I had devoured the apple my mother gave me. I was starving and it took the edge off.

  My mother lived in Barrie. I walked to a nearby fuel station and used a payphone to call a cab. I hadn’t been waiting long when the taxi pulled up. I got in and told the cabby the direction I was headed and he put the transmission into drive. Out the window, I watched the last of the houses slowly fade away until there was only countryside. I leaned forward and told the driver to pull over. I paid him with the last twenty bucks I had been saving and he drove off, kicking up dust behind him as he made his way down the dirt road.

  I started walking. There were a few scattered fragments of clouds in the sky but they would soon evaporate as the morning sun burned them off. I threw the gnawed apple core away. I was standing in a field that was nothing but open space, except for one lone elm tree. It was 150 feet tall and the trunk about 20 feet in diameter. The tree was easily over 200 years old, in perfect health and was one of the most magnificent living things I had ever seen.

  I picked up the spade shovel I had stolen from the farmhouse where the cab driver had let me off. I drove it into the earth beneath the tree and started to dig. I dug about two feet deep until I struck steel. I got down on my hands and knees and cleared the soil away from the object. I braced myself and pulled it free from the ground. I looked down at the small steel safe. I had purchased it years ago and lugged it all the way out here. It was my back-up plan, my safety net. I rotated the combination dial. I heard a soft click, turned the handle and the door swung open. I reached inside and took out a Smith and Wesson Sigma 9 mm and set it on the ground beside me. I reached back inside and took out five bundles of cash. I flicked through one of the bundles with my thumb and remembered there was two grand in each bundle. I reached back inside and took out the last item, a Kershaw flick knife. I pushed the release button on the handle and a 6-inch blade shot forth.

  I took one bundle of money and folded the stack of hundred dollar bills into my pocket. I put the other four bundles of the money into a brown paper bag and wrote a short note on the outside of it with a black marker.

  I picked up the Smith and Wesson and pulled the clip from the housing. It was full. I clamped it back into the pistol’s handle and put it back in the safe. I closed the door and spun the combination dial. The weapon would be useless to me in this type of caper. The knife on the other hand was ideal. I picked up the flick knife and put it in my pocket.

  I slid the safe back into the hole and took the shovel and buried it again. I patted the earth down and leaned the shovel against the tree. I followed its beautiful limbs with my eyes, all the way to the sky.

  I started walking back towards the farmhouse with the filled paper bag and shovel. My stomach howled at me. I realized the apple had done the best it could and it was time I got something substantial in my stomach. I knew just the place.

  When I finally got to the farmhouse I walked up the gravel driveway. I climbed the steps and laid the shovel beside the door and then I set the brown paper bag in front of the doorway. I turned and walked back down the steps. Moments later I was at the end of the driveway and then an hour later I was in a cab heading for the city.

  That evening a man in his late sixties opened his porch door and stepped into the cool night air, with a pipe filled with fresh
tobacco in his mouth and a book of matches in his hand. He kicked something over at his feet and looked down. He picked up a brown paper bag and read the words written in black marker across the front of it.

  “For the use of the shovel.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Ride the Rocket

  “Is there a bottle in the house that someone would order if they were trying to impress a friend?”

  “Yes sir, it is the 1988 Latour.”

  “Is there a bottle in the house that a man would order if he were trying to impress a woman?”

  The waiter smiled almost imperceptibly.

  “That sir would be the Château Mouton Rothschild 1982. It was considered a monumental year. The price of the bottle…”

  I cut him off. “That so?”

  He corrected himself. “Well sir, I might tell you that a patron once said it is the bottle you would order for your last night on earth.”

  I fished in my jean pocket and pulled out a bundle of pallid Robbie Bordens and handed them to the waiter.

  “If there’s not enough you let me know, if there’s too much, keep it.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  The New York strip loin had been cooked medium rare to perfection. It would be in a place like this. The first morsel was just shy of nirvana. Whatever few steps to heaven were missing, the ‘82 Rothschild built with ease.

  I rolled the wine over my tongue, allowing my taste buds to become accustomed to its subtleties. I decided the best thing to do at this time was to have myself an agreeable meal.

  I sat in Bardi’s Steakhouse after spending the day amongst the city’s human traffic. If you’ve ever played ‘Hide the Thimble’ then you know the hardest place to find what you’re looking for is in plain sight.

  My meeting with Arnie wasn’t until midnight, as his letter had instructed. What kind of person fawns over a $65.00 piece of flesh, swallows $900.00 worth of crushed grapes and then smokes $35.00 of Cuban tobacco while an innocent woman is in the hands of the devil? A man like me, that’s who. Worry is a pitiful human condition and yields no positive results. Better to focus on primal human sensibilities, like a full stomach. A man thinks well on a full stomach.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  She was the last person I wanted to see right now.

  “I’d give anything to wipe the ever-present smirk off your face.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything, you crazy bitch.”

  “Your soul?”

  I said nothing. She had me again.

  “Thought not. You act so tough, Willie.” She dipped a finger in my wine glass and slid it between her lips. “I was in the Château when they were bottling this vintage.”

  “What do you want, Lamia?”

  “No time for pleasantries, always business with you.” She put the backside of her slender hand over her mouth as she yawned. I hated this creature. “I know what you’re up to, Willie.”

  “Do you?”

  “Oh yes. You’re going to pursue that tired platitude all men love so much. You’re off to play hero and rescue the damsel in distress. What a bore.”

  “It’s my fault she’s in trouble.”

  “Maybe, but no more yours than it is hers. She could have rejected your advances. She wanted it as much as you did, maybe more, in fact.”

  “I don’t expect a creature like you to understand.”

  “No need to be mean, Willie. All I’m saying is it’s not all on you.”

  I put down my fork and knife. I took a sip of wine to try and clear the bile that was shooting up my throat.

  “Give me my supper, won’t you?”

  The grin left her face and a look that could almost be mistaken for benevolence replaced it.

  “A little advice then. I’d take the subway.”

  “I don’t want your advice.”

  “Suit yourself. Don’t waste the wine.”

  She got up and left the restaurant through the front door like a normal person would do. She also had a point. The subway was the best and most discreet route. I got up from the table, threw a few more Robbies down and walked out. Outside, I lit a Bolivar and started walking in the direction of the subway.

  You can get lost in the sway and shift of the subway as it moves along. The train picks up speed and the platform runs away from you. Deep in the tunnels, the grey concrete races past as quickly as everyday life. I caught the train at St. Andrew, transferred at St. George and was now on my way to Jane station. From there, I’d walk. In the meantime, I sat and collected my thoughts. It was one of those rare occasions where I had the entire car to myself. It only lasted three stations though. A lone man got on at Spadina and sat down on the bench across from me as though it were the only seat left in the car. He smiled at me and I, for some inconceivable reason, smiled right back at him.

  “Feels like you’re off to war.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Sorry for being bold. I can see you’d prefer your space. I can certainly appreciate that. I didn’t mean to be rude or pry.”

  As he spoke, I caught a glimpse of his white wolverine Form. I had never seen a Form like that before. I leaned forward on the bench and sized him up.

  “You’ve got an accent.”

  “I do?”

  “Where you from?”

  “America, but I’m Canadian.”

  “Been there a while?”

  “I guess I have.”

  “What brings you up this way?”

  “Business.”

  “Oh yeah, what kind?”

  “Music.”

  I didn’t care and the man could tell. I had a sudden compulsion to be direct. I felt something strange, like I had known this person in another life.

  “What did you mean about going to war?”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.”

  “Apology accepted, but humour me with an answer.”

  “You looked like you were weighed down with some heavy introspection. I know the feeling all too well.”

  “That so?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what’d you do about it?”

  “Found a woman.” He didn’t laugh or smile like it was a joke, but rather just stared at me intently. “You married?”

  “No. Marriage wasn’t in the cards. You?”

  “Yes, recently actually.”

  “Kids?”

  “A daughter and we just had a son, Jack.”

  I smiled at him. This was so far from anything I knew or would ever know and yet I felt a rapport of some sort with this man that was undeniable. I visually interrogated the man without restraint. I found nothing, not even a modicum of untrustworthy characteristics.

  “If you are going to war, remember that the real enemy is the one you can’t see.”

  “How so?”

  “Fear.”

  I laughed a little inside at his bullshit, and played into it for the amusement.

  “And how do you defeat fear?”

  “With a will stronger than that which inflicts the fear.”

  “If it’s all the same, I’ll stick with these.” I held up my dukes.

  The man looked at the two horribly scarred fists. They were battered and tired. He smiled a sad smile and his right hand subconsciously rubbed his left hand. It was brutally scarred and mangled. I hadn’t noticed, having been so self-absorbed in my own thoughts.

  The subway came to a stop and the automated voice announced High Park Station. The man started through the opened doors and then turned back around outside on the platform.

  “Take care.” He waved at me.

  “Will do, um…”

  “Oh sorry, my name’s…” The subway doors closed before he could finish and the train rolled on.

  I looked out the window beside me. In the tunnel, the concrete walls streaked by and suddenly gave way to a wide opening in the subway tunnel. I looked out into the void and an uncontrollable shudder riveted through my
body. I thought I saw Shrikun enshrouded in darkness, although I couldn’t be sure, as it seemed impossible. I could have sworn I saw hundreds of them, waiting.

  CHAPTER 29

  A Reprisal (Of Sorts)

  The house was in ruin. Hell, the entire block was destitute. Even after all my years on the street, it amazed me that Third World neighbourhoods like this exist right here in this city. The windows were boarded up and there were blackened char stains from previous fires, most likely the results of an old meth lab.

  I didn’t see any easy entry points. I had a feeling they knew I was already there, so there was no real need in trying to be discrete. The front door was ajar, so I let myself in. Rusty was waiting on the other side with a 9 mm pointed in my general direction. He appeared to be alone.

  “You always were weak,” I said, and spat on the floor.

  Rusty lowered his weapon and set it on a table. A faint smile broke across his face.

  “Pound for pound and man to man?” he asked as he cracked his knuckles loudly.

  “Suit yourself.”

  He smiled again and then exposed that black raccoon Form of his. Three Shrikun came from the kitchen, although they kept their distance and observed silently. Despite their stench, I did what I could to ignore them.

  “You waiting for an award, or what?” I said, trying to antagonize him.

  My tactic had worked and he came at me. He threw a hard right and I let it connect to some extent. In doing so, I lost my footing and we both fell to the floor. Rusty put a fist in my stomach but I was ready for it. It still hurt, though. I managed to get my hands around his throat, which is where I wanted them to be. He struggled for air and put a fist in the side of my neck, which made me lose my grip. He stole my idea and put his hands around my throat. The struggle on the floor continued. I was shocked that no one else came to his aid and then I realized this was what Rusty wanted. He wanted the opportunity to have me all to himself. He wanted to fight me, one on one.

  As I thought about this, I struggled to stay alive and gasped for air. I saw something catch the light on the floor and I tried to reach for it. I didn’t have a lot of time before I would start to lose consciousness. He had an iron grip and I felt my eyes watering from the pressure. By this time, the Shrikun had surrounded us and salivated as they watched our struggle. I edged my fingers along the floor until I finally felt the shiny object and I had it in my hand. I wrapped my fingers around it and then I drove Stentinowski’s tooth and the silver hilt that it was attached to into Rusty’s left eye. He released my throat and I sucked air greedily back into my lungs.