No Happy Endings

by Angel Luis Colón

  Fantine couldn’t answer. She kept squeezing the trigger, but nothing happened. She’d fed the rest of the ammo to Mr. Black. Still, she held her aim at Aleksei as if she could will bullets back into the gun and into him.

  Aleksei stood up and looked down at the bodies in his bedroom. He looked back to Fantine with a hard frown. “Are you done?” He pulled the cigar from his mouth and spit. “It was not supposed to be this way. You were supposed to give up, Peter said you would. You would offer us what remained from Empire City.” He laughed. “I knew there was too much of your mother in you. I was a fool to allow this to continue.”

  No talking. No drama. Fantine swallowed the ice at the back of her throat and quickly crossed the room to Aleksei. Turned the gun in her hand—ignored the scalding heat of the barrel against her palm—and buried the grip into Aleksei’s nose as hard as she could.

  Aleksei lost his footing, but managed to recuperate. He grabbed his face and moaned.

  Fantine brought the grip back up and down again. This time striking his temple. Aleksei squat a little and raised a hand. It managed to get a hold of her shoulder. He was strong, but a pistol-whipping seemed to be his kryptonite. Another strike and he was down.

  “All this shit.” She kicked him across the chin. “All these threats on my father’s life. My life. Pete’s. Fucking Pete.” The last words came out in a choke.

  Aleksei curled up on the floor. He was nearly on top of Mr. Brown’s body. Fantine ignored the mess. She aimed her foot at his head and brought it down repeatedly until he stopped making noise. Content with his silence, she reloaded the gun and aimed down at Aleksei.

  He stared back up at her. Twitching. Bleeding. “What about Peter?” he whispered.

  “He’s dead.” Fantine felt tears on her cheeks. “Made me a fucking thief again and now a killer.”

  “You chose...”

  “Fuck you, Aleksei. Yeah, I chose a lot of stupid shit, but I also chose to retire.” She sobbed. “And you assholes knew I had the money. Couldn’t just threaten me for it, no? Had to play games. Try to manipulate me when you can barely get your goddamn head around properly setting a keypad password.” She felt her cheeks go wet. Must have been tears—didn’t matter. “You were propped up by the people you bullied into working for you and now look at you.”

  Aleksei coughed. Nodded slow. “Yes, we all fall, young lady. We all fall.”

  “So, was everything a fix? Pete offering me a room, all of that? Were you chasing my take even then?”

  “No, you moving in made the opportunity.” He was out of breath. “When it became unlikely that you would not quit this job, I assumed maybe you could get the product. The investment would triple.”

  “Anything for the money, huh?” Fantine reloaded the .22. She regretted ignoring her father’s advice to rent an apartment in some rat-hole out in Astoria. “And you had no idea who you were fucking with? That this Leiteiro, Placido, was a fucking psycho with some kind of set-up that makes us look like toddlers? That looping him into this ridiculous con would get us all killed?” She crouched down and shoved the business end of the gun against Aleksei’s temple. “Was everything in this house? The money and whatever dirt you have on the idiots who deal with you?”

  “Yes.” Aleksei licked his lips. “I can get you more money, though.”

  “Fuck the money.” Fantine wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I should put a bullet in your head, but I won’t. I want you to know you lost all of this—the money, the clout, and your son.” She stood up. “And when the time comes, we’ll see each other in hell.” One last kick across the chin—it made her feel better—and Fantine walked out.

  She’d go there now, dump all of the info and take Jae. There was no guarantee Placido hadn’t already killed Jae, but his demeanor dictated otherwise. Sure, the guy was a psychotic, mad scientist, rage monster, but he told her that he wasn’t interested in killing Jae if he could avoid it. Something about that seemed true. Fan didn’t have much faith in things working out in her favor, but she had to try. Not only for her father, but for herself. If she was going to them all killed, it would at least be on her own terms.

  Of course there were train delays at the LIRR station. Of fucking course.

  13

  With a near hour-long delay before a train was scheduled to show up, Fantine figured the first step was to call the cops. Using the only payphone at the station, she pulled up a list of the head detectives of multiple units via her phone to play it safe. Left a voicemail for each—detailed who she was, what was happening, and cited her robbery of Empire City. There were bits and pieces she divulged about Aleksei and her mother’s history with him that were sure to get a reaction.

  Fantine felt like she was awake, but there was a haze over her eyes that made her question whether she had the faculties to make it through the night. She expected to nod off at any moment, but something willed her to stay conscious. Was this the guilt of her actions? Or was this what dread actually felt like? She tried like hell to avoid thinking back to the Twins. She wasn’t ready to face what she did to them—not yet.

  Fantine wished she could slam her head into a wall. The jolt would help her get back from this auto-pilot mode she felt stuck in. The train finally arrived when she was only moments away from going through with it. She opted to nap for the duration of the trip—she needed it. Her tickets secured to the little metal clip in front of her seat, Fantine curled up and used her back pack as a pillow. She set an alarm on her phone for a half an hour from then—she couldn’t risk sleeping when the train pulled into Penn Station.

  She hoped for no nightmares.

  The city seemed busy enough. People were darting around—making stops at grocery stores and arguing. Everyone kept staring overhead at the grey, ceaseless sky. Fantine ignored it and kept moving. She imagined there’d be a lot of angry commuters come Tuesday morning when things fizzled out. Still, better to be prepared than sorry. It was worth her time to snatch up some light provisions.

  A few blocks from the clinic, Fantine managed to find a Mom & Pop store that was stocked with light provisions—water, batteries, flashlights—but packed enough to allow her unfettered shoplifting. Things went so well, she nearly walked out of the place with a shopping basket, but opted to get everything into her extra backpack. She kept it light—Jae would need to carry this one. That was wishful thinking, but it helped dull that shadow lingering behind her. It was so easy to doubt her own skills and she wondered if her mother had felt like that—if before a job, she’d be fighting against thoughts of being caught, of ruining everything for her loved ones, or of losing her life over something so dumb as a cheap thrill and a big payday.

  She should have told Aleksei to fuck himself. Pete would be okay. Her father would too. She could have found a way to run, to get them someplace safe. Only now, with hindsight on her side, could she see that Aleksei was a completely hollow threat.

  Fantine ran through all those should-haves while she called her job and left messages on her phone, her boss’ phone, and his boss’ phone. There’d be no risks. If a person ever associated with her, they got a voicemail. In the worst-case scenario, someone would get caught for what they did to her and her father. Best case: she’d be long gone before anyone found her. There were plenty of other outcomes—including a long stay in a cold cell—but Fantine wasn’t going to allow Placido to get away with any of this. She owed Pete that much, even if she couldn’t properly grieve him.

  The Twins. Fantine closed her eyes and rested on the third payphone in as many blocks that she used to leave messages—this time her father’s nursing home. She thought she’d see their bodies every time she closed her eyes, but she found the details gone already—just like with Pete. The bullets were fired, the bodies bled, and the breathing stopped. That much she remembered, but what they wore or whether they even said anything before their impromptu lead ventilation was long gone. She swore Mr. Brown—or was it Mr. Black—said something. There was noise, but no for
m to it. What she’d done to Aleksei was also murky—it felt like it was weeks ago. She left him alive—a final insurance plan. If everything else went tits up, she figured maybe his need for vengeance would lead him to Placido. Were there Hail Mary saves in life? Today, Fantine found herself hoping more than anything there could be. It would probably be smarter for her to walk over to a precinct and confess her sins in person. They’d arrest her and go save her father. Then again, Placido may have already had the reach to end her in the precinct and make sure her father never saw the light of day again.

  When all her calls were made, Fantine made one last check of her bags. Snuck a peek at the gun in her inside jacket pocket. She kept that pen knife under her bra strap on her back. The Taser was in her bag, but she couldn’t figure out how it would be of any use to her. Placido’s stud farm had plenty of employees milling around. If she had to make a move, the gun was her best bet. Hopefully, Jae would keep up with her. The poor old bastard. She almost laughed imagining how loud he would complain when she stuck him on a bus to who-knew-where. This was done for love, though. He’d understand. Fantine wouldn’t have to explain it—he would know. Jae was a good father. She owed it to him to at the very least to pull his ass form the fire she’d lit.

  There was no way she’d be leaving that place without him and if she had to add a few more notches to her belt, so be it. She’d save trying to live with herself for another day.

  14

  It was almost nine p.m. when Fantine finally arrived at the clinic. She couldn’t control the New York City subway and she was relying—heavily—on Placido’s general sense of honor to preserve her father’s life. They hadn’t set a predetermined time and she assumed that Placido had to understand that as far as normal New Yorkers saw it; the sky was in the process of falling. Besides, he wouldn’t let her wander around without a tail. If Aleksei kept the Twins on her ass—and he was about as well put together as a two-legged dog—then a man with an operation on this scale would as well.

  The streets were nearly empty aside from the stragglers racing to get home with all the bread, eggs, and milk they could find. Apparently, French toast would be the hot commodity when the apocalypse finally happened. Fantine walked behind a couple with Trader Joe’s bags as they argued over whether it was wise to buy the tandoori chicken that was a day ahead of its expiration date. The temptation to pull the gun from her jacket was almost too much to bear. Fortunately, she wasn’t a remorseless killer just yet and the couple turned the corner to continue their conversation down the street.

  The wind was picking up and the rain was coming down hard. Fantine jogged up the stairs and saw the lights of the clinic were off. She tried to open the doors, but they were locked. Not that locked doors would be much of a problem. It took less than thirty seconds—she counted—to open the lock and enter the clinic. If the downstairs set up was anything to go by, she assumed a silent alarm notified everyone there was an intruder. The lack of light made it feel more comfortable. It looked almost lived in, not so cold and distant like when the fluorescent lights were on.

  “You set an alarm off. Not a very good thief.” Placido stood by the doors leading into the rooms where young, desperate men would normally be staring at a screen and trying not to stare into the abyss that was masturbating into a cup for money. “You could have knocked. We were waiting.”

  She stood her ground. Hands in pockets. Assumptions confirmed. “I’ve got half of what you requested with me. The rest will be sent to you once I can walk out of here with my father.” It was a bluff. She had everything. If Placido called her bluff, she’d hand everything over. If not, then she could potentially make some extra money. That line of thinking came so naturally it scared Fantine.

  Placido watched her a moment. “Do you expect me to bring him up here, or were you going to get him yourself?”

  Something wasn’t right. Fantine wrapped her hand over her pistol’s grip. Too late. Someone grabbed her from behind—the Tail. Yanked her arm behind her and rifled through her pockets. They got the gun, but didn’t bother to look around for more. She had no idea if or how she could use it, but at least she still had her pen knife tucked away under her bra strap. There was a pang of regret at leaving the Taser in her bag. The physical violence was still new to her, but she figured she wouldn’t have won the fight even if she had it on her. At least she was right about Placido having someone follow her. While slightly proud of herself for figuring out Placido’s plan of action, it was an incredibly hollow win as she was still in no way prepared to deal with this extra threat to her life.

  Placido approached her, a broad smile on his face. “We both know this ends on my terms, Miss Park.” He turned and motioned to her captor. “Bring her along. We’ll...discuss what’s next downstairs.”

  They made their way to the back where a service elevator waited for them. There were another two nurses—a man and a woman—with no weapons, but definitely some grumpy looks on their faces.

  Fantine heard the wind howling outside as she stepped onto the elevator car. She figured there must be something open above them—a vent or a door. Made a mental note to avoid going anywhere above the main floor if she managed to get out of this.

  “You people aren’t worried about this storm?” Fantine asked.

  “They always blow these things out of proportion,” Placido answer.

  The female nurse shrugged. “I don’t know, they had like an evacuation order or something.”

  Her tail, a broad fella with a deep tan, waved the comment off. “They only do that shit so nobody can sue them if things go really bad. They know it won’t be as bad as they say, but you know how people are, always covering their asses.”

  The conversation died there and everyone stood in wait as the elevator went down to the farm. Fantine wondered how many floors below they were. Hell, who could be fronting the money for an organization like this? Could the Chinese be this desperate?

  The elevator opened into a hallway that wasn’t familiar. The nurses and Fantine’s tail stepped out. The tail handed Fantine’s .22 to Placido.

  Placido nodded and tucked the pistol into his waist strap. “Get everything out. I’ll call once we’ve finished up here.”

  The elevator doors closed again. Further down they went, but this time the trip wasn’t as long.

  Fantine stared at the ceiling of the elevator car. “I’m sort of amazed at all of this; it’s like a secret lair. I didn’t even notice when I left before. How many floors down are you guys?” She knew damn well, but her nerves were fried. Talking was a better choice than screaming.

  Placido rolled his eyes. “Old elevator only seems that way. Moves like a fucking caracol.”

  “You have your people moving product,” Fantine said as the elevator doors slid open again. “I thought you weren’t worried.”

  “I am cautious. Maybe overly so.” Placido pushed her out to the familiar hall. “To ignore any outside variables would be foolish.”

  “That why you killed Pete?” her voice cracked when she said his name.

  “I killed your friend because he was an outside variable and because it served to make you understand the gravity of your situation.” Placido cocked his head to the side. “It didn’t hurt that he was Aleksei Uryevich’s boy too.” He nearly spat Aleksei’s name out.

  Fantine felt like an idiot. There was potential history there. No wonder Placido was so quick to accept her terms. No use in asking questions about it, though. Her business with Aleksei was finished. Hopefully, the end of her business with Placido would be more civil.

  “I understand that you seem to be selling cheap sperm to people who want top flight product,” Fantine said, “Like giving Jack Daniel’s to a blind guy who wants single malt, but never tasted it.”

  Placido laughed. “It is a little like that, yes, but I also like to think of myself as a patriot. I undercut a known enemy. Can you imagine the generation to come from these samples? The idiots that these people will be raising? In two
generations, China would be the same as America. I’m doing us all a favor.”

  “That’s setting the bar a little high, no? Or are you giving yourself too much credit?”

  Placido shrugged. “How you see this doesn’t matter, Miss Park.” He led her down the hall and back to a different office. Snatched her bag from her shoulder and then took the backpack as well. There were still screams coming from other closed doors. They must have been working overtime to literally milk whatever they could before bailing. Placido opened the door and shoved Fantine inside. “I’ll be back. I hope what is in these bags proves to be useful.”

  Jae was seated on the couch, awake and seemingly unharmed. He tried to stand up. “Fan...”

  Fantine helped her father to his feet. ‘Easy, easy.” She looked over her shoulder and reached under her shirt producing the pen knife.

  “Fan,” Jae said, “Are you insane? They have guns here.”

  She frowned and slipped the knife back under her bra strap. He was right. Fantine threw her arms into the air. “There’s no way they’re going to let us leave this place, Dad. We need to do something.”

  “We need to wait.”

  Fantine stared at her father. “For what?”

  Jae shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t think we should risk our lives trying to run.”

  “I risked our lives saying yes to this entire fucking mess, Dad. We’re well past worrying about whether the next move is dangerous. This is all dangerous.”

  “You didn’t have a choice.”

  “Stop making excuses for me, Dad. You did that for Mom and it never changed a damn thing.” Fantine rubbed her eyes and face. “Sorry, that’s talk for another time.”

  Jae nodded his eyes lowered. “It’s okay, Fan”

  Fantine went to the door and pressed her ear against it. The only thing audible was the hum of multiple machines, but no footsteps or voices. She moved her hand over the door knob and turned.