“Oh sh-”
The piercing sound of a handgun firing at close range made Taylor’s ears ring. Blood splattered from Bird Dog’s head and onto her face. It was disgusting and vile, making her gag. Some of it got in her mouth.
It was more than enough for her to stare down deep into the scented blue-watered toilet, throwing up loudly. She cried in between heaves as Bird Dog slumped to the side of the room, pouring blood from his now useless head.
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Owen swiftly awoke into the new world with the sensation of his head emerging from a large ocean. His eyes took a moment to adjust. When they did, the first thing he noticed was how bland and dank his afterlife was. The world looked dark, with little bits of light peeking out of the ceiling. The ground below him felt soft and gritty. It was hot and humid, making him wonder if he was sent to the Christian Hell. He admitted to doing a lot of bad things, but he wasn’t expecting to be punished so severely by the almighty Lord.
His eyes grew heavy again. Why can I not keep them open? So damn sleepy. Seeing no other recourse, he let his eyelids fall.
Until another splash caused him to awaken for good. He rose his upper body upward and examined his surroundings. It was still muggy and a little dark, but he could tell the sun still shined high above the foliage of the trees. He look around in a panic. It was becoming clear as to where he still was. His bloody hand grabbed at his head, realizing that his hair was soaking wet. It wasn’t raining, so his still woozy mind questioned where the hell that water came from.
“So you’re alive.”
Owen turned behind him, then immediately grabbed at his back in pain. Realization set in. He had not died…yet. Behind him was Nicky. Drops of sweat were falling down his face and he was holding an empty bottle of water in one hand and Owen’s gun in the other.
His voice was distorted through the agonizing pain, but Owen managed to get some words out. “Nicky, what…what the hell happened?”
“Well, what do you last remember?”
“Clint holding that rifle to my head.”
“Ah, well, I decided to do you and I guess the whole world a favor. I killed Clint. Used your gun and put a bullet clear through his head.”
Owen couldn’t believe it. “No way. Wasn’t he your friend?”
“Him? Fuck no. I just tolerated him because he was Scar’s brother. Couldn’t stand that little fuck. He had it coming. He’s fucked a lot of shit up.”
Looking around at everything, he just now noticed Clint’s dead body with a hole in the back of his head lying just a couple of feet by him. The sight brought on quiet and relieved joy, though Owen didn’t display it outwardly. “Huh. So…about everything that just happened…you going to fill me in on why you’re here or what?”
“I suppose so. Clint and I came here to kill Scar. Yeah, why the fuck would you do that is what I am sure you are about to ask. The higher ups in the 20’s told me to.”
“Why? Doesn’t seem like an order you’d accept.”
“They threatened my wife and kids.”
“Oh.” Owen could empathize with that. He didn’t know how else to respond.
“I’ll keep it short, man. They didn’t like Scar. They didn’t like that he was an untrustworthy Grayson. They didn’t like that he was a prime candidate to run things when they were gone. They thought he would ruin years and years of bullshit that they created. They fuckin’ acted like they built some fucking museum or something. It’s just a damn drug and gun running ring. But, since I was the closest to Scar, they asked me to take care of it. And they gave me some incentives.”
“What? Money?”
“What else? I deserve it. My family deserves it. They even told me Scar had been shorting me all these years to save money for his beloved nephew. What else could I do?”
“Was he?”
Nicky rubbed at his head and wiped the sweat off of his nose. “I think so, but I’ll never know to what extent.” He took a glance over to the body of Scar. “But it shouldn’t have gone down like this.”
There was something somber in Nicky’s attitude. He never wanted this to happen. Owen could tell. “So, what are you going to do now?”
“The fuck if I know. This is just too much. This is not how this shit was supposed to go. I shouldn’t have asked Clint to help. He fucked everything sky high. I shouldn’t have even accepted. I should’ve said no to that piece of Italian shit Passerini and that old fuck Paxton. They did this! They always hated Scar. All this shit was because of their personal vendettas. This is bullshit. How the hell is Luella…she helped raise me. Now she has to find out all her boys are dead? This is fucked up. So fucked up.”
Groaning in pain, Owen slowly eased his way up to a standing position. Blood was still coming out of the hole in his back. How much blood he had left, he hadn’t a clue. But as dizzy as he was feeling, he had to be running low. The pain in his face was excruciating too. Clint put quite the beating on him. Staring at Nicky, he could see worry and indecisiveness. It appeared he was cracking under all of this pressure. “Well, shit.”
“This is so fucking stupid.” Nicky clutched at his chest.
Owen didn’t want to ask what was wrong. It was visible something was amiss with Nicky, but there was no need to point it out. He had his own problems anyway. Fighting the ability to stay awake was one of them. Time was running out. “You still have my gun?”
Nicky looked at the gun in his hand, then tossed it to him. It hit softly on loose dirt. Owen picked it up, though bending over just made his back hurt worse. With his shirt, he wiped the handle clean, then placed his bare hand back around it to reestablish his fingerprints. He placed it back on the ground and stumbled to Nicky. “Let’s go.”
“You takin’ the wrap?”
“No one’s got to know you were even here.”
“I don’t fucking get it.”
“You don’t need to. See these bodies? It was just a disagreement between the brothers and me. In the end, I’m the one that killed them both. Nicky Suarez was not here. Now…they’re dead and…I’m about to be.”
Nicky grit his teeth. He understood, but everything was still eating at him. “What do you mean? Go get that shit taken care of at a hospital, man.”
Owen shook his head and placed his hands on his hips. “I can be at peace because I finally won. Austin ain’t going to have to worry about anything anymore. Never again will he have to worry about getting beat by his dad or Scar leading him into a life of crime. I’ve won. He’s free. My daughter’s free. I…” Owen almost stumbled and fell. He felt like he was at his most drunk. “Can you help me to the car?”
It took a moment for Nicky to answer, but he nodded and agreed. He wrapped Owen’s arm around his shoulder and supported him on the walk back to Ali’s car. Once in the driver’s seat, Owen tried to fight through his pain and not show it. He looked at Nicky, who was fidgeting and nervous, like he had something to say.
“So it was all worth it, right?” finally asked Nicky. “Doing all this and dying for your family?”
Owen got more comfortable. He silently apologized to his daughter for the blood that would surely stain the back of her seat. “Anything for them…I would do anything.”
Nicky’s eyebrows arched downward. His face looked muddled, but determination lurked deep down inside of it. Something sparked inside of his brain. “Anything for them. She…your girl, Patricia, she said that.”
Owen looked perplexed. “Excuse me?”
“Back then, Roy would usually send someone to collect his cut from her, but sometimes he would want to see her himself, just to see how things were going. I know you hated him. I mean, hell, you killed the guy. But he took care of his own, and even though he knew that she was with you, he still was a good employer. Anyway, it was out in the parking lot of the Dairy Queen, I think. After she gave him the cut that was owed to him, Roy asked her if
she liked what she was doing.”
“And?”
“She said no. But she followed that by saying it was for her family. She’d do anything for them.”
Gazing into the windshield ahead was all that Owen could do. He noticed lots of bugs that found their end from high impact with glass. Emotions of sadness and regret were about to make their presence known. Wanting to leave quickly, his fingers shook on his way to turning the keys to start the ignition. Lifting his head swiftly upward as a sign of acknowledgement to Nicky, Owen thrust the car into reverse and found a small crevice to back in and out of. He was glad he was out of there; the place where fates were decided. He was further elated to see the sky again. A stray cloud dotted the blue of the sky. It was almost too perfect of a day. A choking feeling in his throat and a shaking in his cheeks were overwhelming him, reminding him of every emotion he held back. His eyes watered, but they were contained enough to where no tears fell. Once on the main road, he drove as fast as he could. Time and his consciousness were fleeting. The last thing he wanted was to pass out behind the wheel and screw someone else’s life up with a fatal head-on collision because he passed out from blood loss. But he couldn’t stop. There was somewhere he had to go. He wouldn’t forgive himself in the afterlife if he didn’t do this one thing.
He turned the radio on as loud as he could and kept the windows down, doing anything he could to keep his dizziness and sleepiness from conquering him. The choking feeling had never left, but it felt like it was being replaced by a familiar burning. He knew this feeling all too well. Feeling his chest and throat surge, he pulled over on the side of the road and threw his head out the window, letting loose a great deal of vomit. Most of his body was already hurting. Now he could add his acid filled throat to the list. Lots of drool escaped his lips and down his dirty shirt. He caught himself nodding off with his head still exposed to the outdoors. There wasn’t much time left. He was becoming so damn sleepy. He had to reach his destination.
He did whatever he could to keep himself alert. He pinched his face and arms, slapped himself across his sore face and even bit the skin on his wrist to stay away from slumber. But after minutes of self-imposed torture while driving, he made it to his goal. Above his head as he drove into the entrance was a steel arch that boldly spelled Adrienne Cemetery. It had been so long since he had been here. His mother’s graveside service was the last time he set foot on this land. Before that, it was Patricia’s funeral. This place made him uneasy. He didn’t fear the dead, but it was the finality of death and how everyone ends up here that freaked him out. It seemed ironic that the place he avoided would be his probable resting place.
It was sad that he completely forgot where to go. Despite it being 15 years, the fact that he couldn’t remember only reinforced the reason why he had to come here. He opened his car door and stumbled out, grabbing at his bleeding back, figuring examining each grave and looking at the name would be a better alternative. He dropped to a knee, but quickly willed himself back up. It was becoming difficult to simply walk. He felt like he was wearing bricks for shoes, but he pressed on, noting the last names of the graves he passed by. Stone after stone, he wasn’t finding the one he needed. Where is it? Where the fuck is it? Hope was fading away. Each step came closer to the end of his line.
Across the paved road that separated groups of graves that rested on freshly mowed grass, he noticed a beautiful array of orange, red and blue flowers in front of a lighter gray stone. For some reason, he needed to see whose grave it was. Something about the simple beauty and how it resembled the colors of both sunrises and sunsets appealed to him. He had witnessed both recently; a sunset when Grace ended their relationship and a sunrise this morning. Owen wanted to piece their meanings into some sort of allegorical meaning, but his mind and body were too chaotic to create something so complex. Each step made him weaker. Each breath grew shallower. But he pressed on and made it to the flowers, collapsing to both knees in front of the glass vase that held them. They were a thing of beauty. He wanted to touch them, but he didn’t want to disrespect the person buried beneath them or whoever laid down the flowers. He looked at the name and felt his upper body tighten.
McAdams. Patricia LeAnn McAdams.
The woman he loved was six feet underneath him. Nothing but bones by now, but they were the bones of his fiancé. He was sick of calling her that. She should have been his wife. Another regret he would have to live with. Though, he doubted that would last that much longer. He softly picked up the vase and smelled the flowers. They still had a fairly fresh aroma, although his olfactory sense wasn’t working quite that well, more than likely due to the pounding his nose took earlier. There was only one person who likely visited here, though he wondered how often his daughter came here in between drug binges. When she did visit, she likely spoke and had conversations with her mother. It didn’t seem practical, but Owen was willing to give it a try.
Grabbing the grass below him for leverage, he inched closer to the limestone. His fingertips, soaked with blood, traced the M in McAdams. For a moment, he focused on her date of death. If only he did something differently on that day, or any day before that. Those were opinions he could express out loud to her. His lips shivered as he strained to have his words escape. But they finally came out, though hoarsely.
“He…Hey.”
Owen grasped his hands on the top of the grave. Words weren’t coming with ease. He was so nervous, even to talk to inanimate piece of stone. “15 years. 15 years have passed. Your baby girl, she’s grown up. You know that. She comes to visit you a lot. She has a few problems, but she’s working through them. She’ll get through them. She’s got that Tomkins spirit. You have a grandson. If you were still here, oh my god, that boy would be spoiled rotten. I know you wouldn’t stand for that fucker father of his either, but he’s gone now. All that got settled today. They are free.”
His heart sank once remembering details of how this came to be. “I still remember it, honey. I remember it like it was yesterday. The day that I found you…how you were. Those memories will never leave me. God, I’m sorry. I did horrible things and betrayed you almost every night just so I didn’t have to think of you. No woman mattered to me. Just you.” The choking feeling returned. “God, I miss you.”
He broke down. His forehead rested on the coarse top as tears streamed out of his ducts. “God dammit, please forgive me. It’s my fucking fault you’re down there and not here with me. I miss you. I miss you so much.”
The drowsy sensation once again found itself battling his desire to stay awake. He thought of another memory. “Do you remember when we found out you were pregnant? Hah, you threw the pregnancy test at me. Then you threw a softball at me. Smoked me, right in the shoulder. Had a good sized bruise. You were gonna throw your piggybank at me too. But I had moved in close to you. I didn’t know what to do either. I was cool outside, but inside, I was just as panicked as you were. So I did the only thing I could think of. I wrapped you in my arms and didn’t let go. You fidgeted, calling me an asshole and careless, but you stopped after a while and placed your face on my shoulder. I could feel your warm tears through my shirt. I already knew you were the girl I would spend the rest of my life with, but I really knew it then. Holding you was the best damn feeling I ever had. I want it back so bad. I love you.”
He no longer wanted to fight his sleepiness. It felt beneficial to say those words to her, like he could finally relax. Now, the struggle was over. Rest called out to him. His eyes fluttered as the vicious sun sunk behind the sole cloud in the sky. Owen was sick of suffering, both physically and mentally. A quiet smile made its presence on his face as he tasted the salt of his tear. He felt compelled to say one last thing before sleep took him.
“I’m comin’ home to you.”
He opened his eyes. Owen guessed he wasn’t as sleepy as he believed. In fact, he found himself wide awake, vibrant and full of energy. The pain had completely vanished. He actually felt like a brand new man. His eyes took
a moment to adjust to the beautiful brightness. The sound of running water in a stream was like a perfect symphony and put his soul at ease. Everything smelled fresh and pleasant. Each breath of oxygen felt clean and clear. He looked down to the vivid green grass dotted with white daisies. Picking one from the ground, Owen inhaled deeply. Its fragrance was like a perfume that fascinated his senses. Looking up to the heavens while enjoying the aroma, the sky was cloudless and cerulean. Closing his eyes, he hadn’t experienced such a peaceful feeling in a long time.
Taking a step toward the creek, he planted his knees into the ground and placed his fingers in the stream, letting the sparkling water run around them. It was cool and crisp. It also looked fresh enough to drink. He was considering it, until something white and bright caught his peripheral vision.
Ahead was a woman in a white sundress. Her dirty blonde hair was catching the breeze. The woman turned toward him with an infectious smile on her face. Owen had stood up to approach the lady, but seeing her face made him drop back to his knees. He wanted to say her name so badly, but the woman put her vertical index finger to her ruby red lips. She gracefully walked to him, her smile staying permanent. Back to his feet, he wanted to cry in happiness. She was so beautiful that he didn’t feel worthy to even be in her presence. Remembering the daisy in his hand, he carefully placed it in her hair, making her smile grow even wider, revealing pearly white teeth. Owen eased his lips toward hers. She made no attempt to resist his advance. Her lips tasted like every sweet and enjoyable thing that ever existed. He could feel her smile on his lips. It made him grin like a child.
Owen pulled away to look into her eyes. They were brighter than the sky and he wanted to die in them. Biting his lip, he had to say her name.
“Patricia.”
He guided his lips upon hers again.
And darkness reigned forever.
Comin' Home to You Page 37