Trembling so hard, she almost dropped to her knees.
No more, no more, no more!
End it all, Dana!
Right now!
Here!
At this moment!
No more running!
No more hiding!
No more fear!
Skidding to a stop, she swung around on her heels, gun grasped in a professional two-handed hold.
Shouting, “Freeze, you filthy bastard!”
But he didn’t freeze!
Immediately, the air spewed forth hot white lights. Like bursts from firecrackers, except it wasn’t the Fourth of July. Deafening shots ringing in the air, exploding in her head!
Still, the bastard kept coming at her!
Falling at her!
His mouth open—frozen into a horrific silent scream.
Blood pouring from his gullet.
Crying out as he lunged helplessly toward her, hitting her chest, knocking her backward. A dull thud as he hit the ground facedown. Dana could hear the crunch of facial bones smashing against the hard pavement.
Dana screamed—a helpless siren that was heard by no one. Staggering to keep her balance, seeing tiny pinpoints of light.
Don’t faint, she pleaded with herself. Don’t faint!
Breathing hard and deeply, eyes intently focused on the corpse lying at her feet. Her fingers were still gripped around a trigger.
A simple death wasn’t enough for the years of abuse he had inflicted on her.
Aiming the barrel toward the crumpled body.
Pressing the trigger harder and harder.
Take that, you slimy bastard!
Take that, and that, and that!
But the gun refused to spit fire.
Jammed!
But how could that . . .
Then her brain spun into overdrive as her eyes noticed the reason why.
The safety catch was still on.
The gun hadn’t jammed.
The gun never went off!
Then how did she . . . how could . . .
Eyes drifting upward from the body to the erect figure in front of her.
Julian!
A smoking gun at his side. An evil smirk on his face.
In the still midnight mist, his soft-spoken words screamed derision inside her head.
“Just can’t survive without me, can you, Dana?”
He started walking toward her.
“Gun can’t help you if you don’t have the guts to use it. And you don’t have the guts, do you?”
His mocking smile widening as he came closer.
“Lucky for you, I was around. Otherwise, you’d have been turned into hamburger by Mr. Shit over there.”
Julian kicked the body, moved another step closer to her.
“Speak, my love,” he crooned. “A simple thank-you would be sufficient.”
Tears pouring from her eyes, streaming down her face, Dana whispered out a sob-choked thank-you.
Julian’s expression softened, but his smug smile remained.
“I’ll always be around for you, Dana,” he whispered. “Always. Because I love you. I can’t escape you, Dana. And you can’t escape me, either.”
She nodded.
Julian fell to his knees. “It’s never too late, my beautiful lover. Come back to me. Come back to where you belong.”
He stood, then raised his arms, ready to accept her embrace.
She raised her arms.
Unlocking the safety, she pumped six rounds of fiery lead into his body.
He died with the smirk still on his face.
At the eulogy, Dana spoke of his extraordinary valor. How he had saved her from a sick and deranged man with evil on his mind. Through molten gunshots and powder-choked air, in a moment’s flash of unthinking selflessness, he had risked his life to save hers. Managing to squeeze off enough rounds to end her attacker’s life before succumbing to his own mortal wounds. And because of his superhuman act, her life was spared while his own life had ended. His years . . . cut short . . . in his prime . . . just because of one man’s treacherous deeds.
The funeral was crowded. His mother cried bitterly. His sisters wept and wept. It seemed that all the neighbors had come out to pay their last respects. Everyone attending the ceremony knew his history. Yet they were all more than a little puzzled by Dana’s flowery words, her effusive commendations and praises.
And so it came to pass that Eugene Hart, a twenty-two-year-old felon with a long and notorious history of brutal violence and rape, was put to rest with a hero’s burial.
MUMMY
and JACK
with Jesse Kellerman
“Mummy and Jack”—an acid fable
centered on a peculiar mother and
son—is the product of my first
collaboration with my son, Jesse. A
novelist as well as a playwright, Jesse
has infused the story with his own
unique brand of dark humor, a trait
shared by his father and mother. This
just goes to show that a twisted mind
can be a genetic endowment.
WHEN I WAS SMALL, MUMMY WOULD SAY, IF ye’re a good boy, then I will tell ye a bedtime story. But now she cannot because she is too sick. The time has come now that I must take care of her and not the other way around. I must do things for Mummy. I must get Mummy her medicine and buy her spirits. I must bring Mummy her supper every night. Yet she is not yet so sick and old that she cannot tell me what to do. She has her opinions.
Lately, this has become more of a problem because I want (and she wants me to also, I think) to court a lass or two, and I must bring the lass home to have a proper introduction. Sometimes Mummy makes this very difficult. Her opinions. They are very strong opinions. I am, however, a proper-raised gentleman, and I have been educated in the way that makes me respect Mummy even if her opinions are extremely particular and particularly strong. I always do my best to make her happy.
Sometimes I do wish for a bedtime story, though.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go out for a stroll at night. I groomed my mustache. Mummy likes my mustache, and she tells me that I look very right and handsome. I like it when I please her. I straightened my freshly starched waistcoat, then I took my cane, my cloak, and some other things. I did not think it was late in the evening, but Mummy heard me opening the door.
Jack! she called to me.
Yes, Mummy? I said like a good boy says.
Jack, where are y’goin’?
I am goin’ for a walk, I said.
It’s too late in the night, Jack, she said.
It’s not so late, Mummy. I thought of mebbe gettin’ a bit of air . . .
Don’t go, Jack! she said. She was almost screaming at me from the other room, and her voice was like a very sharp knife. Don’t leave me here, Jackie!
Her voice made me hurt quite bad. I thought that maybe she was going to die if I left her alone. All of a sudden I got frightened. So I went to her room to make sure that she was well. When I peeked my head through the door, I could see that she was surrounded by a big pile of pillows (pillows I bought with money that I had earned for her) looking like a fat white man hugging her tight. She was sitting up in bed and maybe even crying a little. It hurts me when she cries with her voice so little and full of pain. Especially because she looks so weak, with her thin bones and white hair.
Please don’t go, Jack! she begged.
I will come back soon, Mummy, I said. I am goin’ to bring some spirits. I’ll bring y’ back a pint. (I knew that Mummy likes an occasional pint and she would be happy if I offered to bring her one.)
Oh, would ye, Jack? That would be so nice . . . so nice.
I will come back soon and bring ye a pint, Mummy, I promised.
Oh, but not a pint. Bring us some red wine, Jack, she said. Port, if you will, Jackie. That makes me bones very warm.
Right, then, Mummy, I answered. Some old red port.
/> Thankee, Jackie, said she, gratefully.
I left the house and walked around for a bit. After some time, I was very far from where we lived. I was not certain where I was, although I thought I might be in Whitechapel. I wanted to hear my mummy’s voice telling me a bedtime story, and feel her giving me wet kisses on my forehead. There was a big clock striking the late hour, and I thought that I would get Mummy her wine and maybe a pint for myself. (Because it was a very soggy night and I wanted to warm my bones.) Afterward, I would go home and go to bed.
Instead, I came upon a lass out walking. She was very short and stout, and she had an ugly smile, but she looked like she wanted to be my friend. I thought that because she walked up to me and said, Allo, sir, how are ye?
I said, I’m fine, thankee. Why are you here so late at night?
She began to laugh, like a horse throwing its head back and sniffing the air. I could see tiny blue lines in her fat neck where her blood was. It was not a pretty neck, although I have seen pretty necks: long, stretchy white necks, like swans gliding in the lake in the park. I touched the stiff edge of my collar and waited for her to talk again. Her face was dirty, and the sleeve of her dress was ragged, like it had been chewed.
I know ye want to buy me a nip o’ gin, sir, she said. Will ye buy me a nip?
Since I had to go get some wine for Mummy, and the lass seemed nice enough, I told her I could buy her a nip.
Oh, you’re a good boy! said the lass.
(Of course, I know I am a good boy, because Mummy tells me that all the time. I try very hard to be a good boy for her.)
What’s your name, sir? she asked.
Jack, I said.
You’re a good boy, Jack, said the lass. My name is Annie.
It is an honor to meet you, Annie, I said. Lasses like that, when I talk courtly. Annie liked it, and she laughed again.
Come on, then, she said. Let’s get us a drop!
I went with Annie to a pub and bought Mummy’s port. Annie wanted a gin, and so I bought her a nip. She was thirsty, and she took the whole glass at once. I thought her gulping a bit common and lower-class, but when she asked me for another, I bought it for her. Then she asked for a third.
I’ve not got any more money, Annie, I said.
Oh, my! she said. Well, then, I shall have to find another man to buy me a nip. Because it is a cold, damp night.
No, Annie, I said. Don’t go. (Because I was starting to fancy her.)
Well, sir, I don’t want to go because ye have been so nice to me. But I am very thirsty. Then she laughed again.
I thought that Mummy would be very thirsty by this time, so I decided that I should go home. But I still fancied Annie.
I said, Annie, can I ask ye to supper? I can give you a bit of gin that I’ve got back at home.
Annie smiled at me with a big brown rotted smile. It’s too late for supper, but I can give ye a bite if you want, sir.
No, thankee, I said for I was not hungry. Why don’t ye come for supper on Friday, then?
Oh, sir, said Annie, that would be quite nice.
I shall come to get ye, Annie.
Thankee, luv, she said. Come to get me here.
Cheers, I said, then left and headed toward home. The whole walk home, I tripped over rats running beneath me in the fog. The misty air was like a big fish swallowing the street. I wanted to be home and to hear a bedtime story before I went to sleep. But when I did get home, Mummy was asleep. I put the wine in the cupboard and went to bed with no bedtime story (which made me feel quite lonely).
The next morning I told Mummy that I had invited a guest for supper for next week.
Who’s that? she asked.
A lass, said I.
Jack! Why are ye bringing lassies home? she scolded me.
She wanted to meet ye, Mummy.
It’s not proper to bring lassies home! she yelled. Not proper at all!
Then I remembered the port and brought it from the cupboard. While I poured her drink, I said, She is nice, Mummy.
Mummy drank a bit. Then she drank a wee bit more and smiled. She said to me, Well, I must meet her if ye think she is nice, my Jackie.
She is nice, Mummy, I said.
She had another nip and said, Mummy can tell ye if she is a proper lass or not.
I said that was why I wanted Mummy to meet her.
Good boy, that y’think of your mummy. You were raised a proper gentleman, my Jack.
I was very happy when she said this. There are times that Mummy makes me very happy. Even if she has her sharp opinions.
The following week I walked out again and found the pub where Annie was supposed to be. She was not there, and I waited for her. The barman tried to give me drinks, but I did not want to drink anything.
Get out if you’re not goin’ to be buying somethin’! he yelled. You’re in a pub, you fool.
I am waiting for a lass, I answered.
Who, then, are ye waitin’ for? he asked me.
Annie, said I.
What Annie? said the man.
Jest Annie is her name.
Ye can wait outside, then, said the man.
I waited outside near the door. Annie came, but she was late. She almost did not see me. She almost walked through the door without saying hello. But I took her on the elbow, and that got her to turn around.
Allo, Annie, I said.
Allo, mate, she said. Buy me a slug, will ye?
I looked at her, and she stared back as if she did not know my face.
Ye are coming for supper, then? I asked.
Supper? Why would I come with ye to supper? she asked.
I thought she was playing a game. Annie, ye said ye’d come the night to supper with me, I explained.
Buy me a nip o’ gin, and I’ll come to supper with ye, she said.
All right, then, Annie. I’ll buy you a nip.
We went inside. I bought her a gin and then a few more. She was soon very happy to come to supper, although I was no longer so certain she should come. She was tipsy, and Mummy does not think it proper for a lass to be tipsy.
I tried to tell her that, but she laughed in my face. Still, she followed me all the way to home. I opened the door, and Annie walked in behind me. Annie, said I, do ye know any bedtime stories?
Aye, she answered. I know every story every man wants to hear. But first I want a nip o’ gin.
I told her soon, after supper. Mummy could not lay the table, being so sick. So I put the cutlery out. Then I took dishes and gave them to Annie.
Lay the dishes, please, Annie, for I must go to see how Mummy is getting on. Then I went to see Mummy.
She was waiting for me. Is that lass here? she asked.
Yes, Mummy, she’s here, I replied. Do ye want to eat with us, or shall I bring ye something in bed?
I think I’ll eat with ye, Mummy said. Bring me to the table, my Jackie.
I lifted her up and brought her to the table, and Annie was sitting there. She had not yet laid any dishes.
Did ye not lay the table, girl? asked Mummy.
Annie looked at Mummy with bleary eyes and did not say anything, which I thought was very rude.
I brought to the table a piece of cold beef, bread, and water.
Ye said you’d give me a nip, Annie said.
Annie was not behaving the way I thought she would with Mummy present, but I gave her a bit of gin anyway. Then she was quiet for a minute. Mummy ate a few bites of beef and bread. Then she said to Annie, What’re y’called, lassie?
Annie Chapman, ma’am.
Annie Chapman, said Mummy. Where did ye meet my Jack?
Annie drank and did not say a word. But my mummy continued, Jack is a good boy, Miss Annie Chapman. Do y’know that?
Aye, ma’am, answered Annie, he’s a good boy.
He was not always such a good boy, said Mummy.
Annie looked up from her nip. How’s that?
Once, when he was a wee lad, he tore up all my linen, Mummy said, coughi
ng and cackling. Do ye remember that, Jack?
Yes, I said. I was a bit embarrassed.
Said Mummy, I was quite cross with him when he was young because he ruined everything. He was a little terror, my Jackie. A terror and a tearer. Jackie the Tearer. But now look how handsome he has grown up to be.
Aye, Annie answered.
Do ye like his mustache? asked Mummy.
I do, said Annie.
Then Mummy et a bit more. Annie did not have any bread or beef, but she took another glass of gin. After a while Mummy turned to me and said, Jackie, take us to bed, will ye?
I carried her to her bedroom once again. Before I left, she whispered loudly to me, Jack, I donna like the lass. She is not for a proper-raised gentleman like you.
Oh, Mummy, I said. I was disappointed, but Mummy was sick, so I tried to hide it.
She does not smile like a young lady. Tonight she did not smile at all, Jack.
I have seen her smile, Mummy. Sometimes she smiles at me.
Mummy shook her head. She does not smile big enough, Jackie. Not big like a bright young lassie is meant to smile!
I listened to her words. They were not nice words, but they were proper. Do ye think so, Mummy?
I do, she replied.
Then what shall I do with her?
I donna care. Just get her away and come back to me, Jack.
I knew she was right. She is right always. Ye are clever, Mummy.
I jest want to save me boy from bad lassies, Jackie.
Ye love me, Mummy?
I do, Jackie, said Mummy. You are my babe.
I was so happy to hear her say that. I knew what could make her happier. I gave her a kiss on her head full of white hair and told her I’d be back soon.
I took the cutlery and the dishes to the cupboard and stowed almost everything away. Come on, then, Annie, said I. It’s time to take ye back home.
Give another nip o’ gin, luv, she cried.
We’ve got nothing to give ye, Annie, and so let’s get a go.
Oh, but for a bit of gin!
Back in the pub, Annie, I said. Let us go back to where I found ye.
Aye, luv! she cheered.
We walked a bit. Then I said, There’s a nice pub over here, Annie.
Where? Annie asked. I donna see nothin’.
It was true, because the street was dark and the place was very still.
The Garden of Eden and Other Criminal Delights Page 12