I Have Sinned

by Caimh McDonnell

  “So,” said Smithy, “I get that this Abraham dude has a hard-on for the padre, but why has he taken these two kids hostage?”

  Gabriel spoke before Bunny could formulate a response. “Because he is forcing me to try to save them. He doesn’t just want me dead; he wants everything I became after I left him to truly die. He wants me to kill again, because he wants me to go back to being, in his words, the ‘warrior’ he raised.”

  “Even if who you kill is him?”

  Gabriel nodded. “Yes, although I doubt that is his first choice. He will not be alone – of that I have no doubt. He will have some of the family with him.”

  “That is fucked up.”

  Gabriel nodded. “It is hard to disagree with that assessment. All that matters now is getting Bianca and Emilio back safely. This is nothing to do with them.”

  “How many of the members of this family do you expect to be there?”

  “I don’t know,” said Gabriel. “At a guess, he may have all of the seven with him.”

  “Wait a sec,” said Bunny. “The bowsey in the boot?”

  “The what?” said Smithy.

  “Sorry, the lad in the trunk, trying to kill you. It was his whatchamacallit – initiation?”

  “Yes,” said Gabriel, and then he raised an eyebrow, the closest thing to emotion Smithy had seen from him. “I see your point. That means there is an opening in the seven. So, there’s that.”

  “Yeah,” said Bunny, “so it might only be – what? Six plus Abraham against two?”

  “Three,” said Smithy.

  Bunny shook his head emphatically. “Feck no, Smithy. I mean, I appreciate the offer, but this isn’t your fight.”

  “Since when has that mattered? You’re in this; I am in this.”

  “No way,” said Bunny. “The other times were… This is just different.”

  “We are going in against some of the most skilled killers on the planet,” said Gabriel, “in a situation they have set up and with almost every advantage on their side. This is a suicide mission, and it is one I will undertake alone.”

  “Bollocks!” said Bunny. “I said I was helping with your situation, and I am. End of.”

  “I’m sure Sister Dorothy didn’t mean—”

  “Regardless,” said Bunny, “I know them kids. I can’t walk away now. I’m in this until the bitter end.”

  “And where he goes…” said Smithy.

  “No,” said Gabriel. “Absolutely not. I am not bringing another innocent into this.”

  “He’s right,” said Bunny.

  Smithy pulled the car over to the side of the road, coming to an abrupt enough stop that it skidded on the snow. He turned to face Bunny. “And what am I supposed to do? You’re forgetting” – he jabbed a finger at his own temple – “I have the voice in my head.”

  There was a moment’s pause before Gabriel spoke. “I’m sorry, you have what?”

  Bunny answered. “He hears the voice of God in his head.”

  “Respectfully,” said Gabriel, “no, he doesn’t.”

  TELL HIM HE’S WRONG.

  “Oh God,” said Smithy. “Not now.”

  “Sorry?” said Gabriel.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” said Smithy. “Alright, maybe it is the voice of God, or maybe it’s just some form of really awkward mental illness – whatever. It doesn’t change the facts. How do you think it will feel about me letting an actual priest and one of my best friends go to their deaths?”

  “All we need is a lift,” said Bunny. “That’s already a massive ask.”

  “But—”

  “Besides,” said Gabriel, raising his voice. “I need you to do something else for me.”

  Smithy turned and glared at him. “What?”

  “I need you to live, because I need the boy in the trunk to live. He’s a young man who has known nothing but the family for most of his life, and they have programmed him to feel that his sole purpose is to kill. In particular, to kill me – otherwise he has failed. That’s why we had to take him with us. If we’d released him back in Coopersville, he would have stolen a car and followed us, all in the hope of killing me. If we let him out here – same. If we’d left him in the basement, there was a very real chance he’d kill whoever found him and then attempt to find me. Similarly, if we let him out at our destination, he will endeavour to kill me. There is only one solution: I need you to drop us off and then take him far enough away that he has no chance at killing me and then release him. Please, God, at that point he might see that his only choice is to disappear and start a new life.” Gabriel took a brown envelope out of his coat pocket and raised his voice. “Seeing as he can no doubt hear me, I might as well explain this. This envelope contains four hundred dollars and the name of a man in New Jersey who will get him out of the country, no questions asked. All he has to do is tell him my name.”

  No noise came from the trunk.

  Gabriel pointed at Smithy. “So, you see, I need you to help me give the boy a second chance at life.”

  Smithy and Gabriel locked eyes and looked at each other for a long moment.

  DO WHAT THE PRIEST SAYS.

  “Really?” screamed Smithy, before punching the steering wheel. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, breathing steadily.

  “Is he alright?” asked Gabriel.

  “Just give him a minute,” said Bunny in a soft voice.

  Smithy threw on his signal and pulled back out onto the road. When he finally spoke, it was mainly to himself. “Making me take someone and release them miles away. It’s what Cheryl makes me do with a damn mouse!”

  A frosty silence descended on the car, save for the thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk of the windscreen wipers battling against the never-ending snow.

  After a couple of minutes, Bunny finally spoke. “I don’t know if it’s any comfort, but…” He smiled over at Smithy. “You’re definitely going to win the bet. Whatever happens next, it is going to involve some serious fecking violence.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  It occurred to Emilio that, technically, this was the closest contact he had ever had with a girl in his entire fifteen years on this earth. Technically, he could theoretically claim to have reached second base, not that he ever would – first, because he was a gentleman and second, because there was a very good chance he was going to die before he ever got the chance.

  Emilio laughed.

  Bianca moved her head to look at him. “What is so funny? I’m freezing my ass off here.”

  “S… Sorry.”

  They were sitting in the front car of a rollercoaster, cable ties around their wrists, the safety bar securely locking them into the seat. The term “safety bar” seemed entirely inappropriate though, given the circumstances. Their arms were wrapped around each other because they were in the middle of freezing to death. They had started hugging after Emilio had remembered a documentary he’d seen about surviving in the extreme cold; they were trying to conserve their body heat as efficiently as possible. Also, while Emilio had left this part out, it made him feel slightly less terrified. To be honest, as ways to die went, Emilio didn’t think it was the worst.

  A thought struck him. “Damn!”

  “What?”

  “Th… the pigeons. Who’s gonna look after my pigeons?”

  “Really? We go to a meeting for you to become this hotshot artist only to have some douchebags pull guns on us and now we’re trapped at the top of a rollercoaster, and you’re worried about them damned racist pigeons? If they’re as smart as you say, they’d have rescued us by now.”

  “G… give them time. We a long way from Coopersville.”

  “Yeah,” said Bianca, “like that’s the problem. Where the hell are we anyway?”

  “Dunno,” replied Emilio. “The v… view is kinda cool though. D… don’t you think, B?”

  “Yeah. It’s fantastic. Just a shame it’s gonna kill us.”

  They sat there, arms around each other, while all around them snow fell o
nto the skeletal remains of the abandoned theme park. Emilio thought it looked kinda awesome in a post-apoc sort of way. He would have liked to walk around it. Of course, that would mean getting off this rollercoaster, which didn’t seem too likely.

  It had been one hell of a day. And to think, that morning he had been worried because he had to wear a suit and go to a meeting. He still had the suit on. He laughed again.

  “What’s so funny now?” said Bianca.

  “I was just thinking. I w… wish my cousin Lorenzo was fatter. I’d be warmer now.”

  Bianca shook her head and rubbed her hands up and down his back, inside his coat. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” But she said it in a nice way. You had to know Bianca to understand. Emilio did.

  “Yeah.”

  Bianca lowered her voice to a whisper. “You think we can move this bar? I could climb over and knock this fool out.”

  The fool in question was sitting in a car about five seats back, wearing an all-white camouflage jacket that Emilio thought looked wonderfully warm. He was letting a covering of snow rest on him, which made him look like a snowman with a serious grudge. He wasn’t looking at them. He had his eye to the scope of the sniper rifle he had trained on the amusement park below. From what Emilio had seen of him as they’d been loaded into and then out of the van, the dude was maybe six-three and he had a thick red beard. His right eye was also developing an impressive shiner – Bianca wasn’t the “go quietly” type. He spoke without taking his eye from the scope. “I’d like to see you try, you little bitch. You and the retard aren’t any good at whispering either.”

  Bianca raised her voice. “Fuck you, you Grizzly Adams-wannabe douchebag. How about you put your gun down and we finish what we started?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You gonna make me, you limp-dicked shit-show? Need a gun to make you feel like a man?”

  The limp-dicked shit-show didn’t move his eye from the rifle’s sights, but he pulled a handgun from his holster and pointed it directly at Bianca. “Two guns, actually. I’m pretty sure we only need one living hostage.”

  Emilio, as much as was possible, tried to move his body to cover Bianca while putting his hand over her mouth. “Sh… she’ll be quiet. I promise, sir. I p… p… promise.”

  The snowman placed the handgun back in his holster in one fluid motion and then spoke in a mocking voice, “O… O… OK th… th… th… then.”

  “Ouch,” said Emilio, pulling his hand back. The palm of it had just been bitten.

  “You ever put your hand over my mouth again,” whispered Bianca, “I’ll bite the whole thing off.”

  “Sorry. I was trying to make s… sure you didn’t get shot.”

  “At least I wouldn’t be cold anymore.”

  “Yeah,” said Emilio, “b… but I would. After death, the human body loses 1.5 degrees in temperature an… n… n… hour. And all your muscles would relax, so your hug wouldn’t be as nice.”

  Bianca nodded. “Good to know.”

  “Plus, all those muscles relaxing – you’d probably sh… shit your pants.”

  “Ugh. Well, you sure ruined that moment.”

  Emilio smiled and rubbed his hands up and down Bianca’s back.

  “How come you stutter less when you talk to me?”

  The question came out of nowhere. Emilio guessed she’d wanted to ask it for a while. He attempted a shrug, which didn’t really work in his current circumstance. “I find you easier to t… talk to than anybody else.”

  “Oh. OK.”

  Emilio looked over Bianca’s shoulder and watched the snow falling silently behind her. “I’m sorry a… about all of this,” he said softly.

  “Don’t be. Ain’t your fault. Hell, I’ve no idea what this is about” – she raised her voice– “and seeing as none of these shitnozzles will tell us” – she lowered it again – “I probably never will. But I’m sure it ain’t your fault.”

  “Y… yeah, but if I was braver or s… smarter, maybe I’d…”

  “Hold up,” said Bianca, pushing Emilio away slightly so she could look at the side of his face as she talked. “What the hell are you talking about, E? You have a stutter, an arm that don’t work and a more messed-up start in life than anybody I know, and that’s really saying something. You get shit from everybody and you never back down. Hell, you get shit from life. Most people in your shoes would be bitching and moaning. You just go out and do – and you still found a way to be great. You got your art. After all that, you stood up and said this is me. You are the bravest guy I know. That’s brave. That’s real brave. Brave ain’t being some asshole with a gun.”

  “She d… didn’t mean that.”

  “The fuck I didn’t.”

  Emilio pulled Bianca closer again. “Could you stop trying to g… get shot for one minute, please.”

  Bianca said nothing, clearly not willing to commit to that concept.

  Emilio lowered his voice and tried to summon his courage. “I’m sorry about the oth… other thing too.”

  “What other thing?” asked Bianca.

  “The mural on the wall of you… I’m… I’m sorry you didn’t like it.”

  There was a long pause, and Emilio felt Bianca’s breath on his ear. “What? Who said I didn’t like it?”

  “Well…”

  “I’m…” Bianca’s voice, stripped of all its faux aggression and bravado, was softer now. “I just… It was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I guess… I didn’t know how to react, but… I love it.”

  Emilio took a deep breath and then tried to gather his courage. Aw hell, they were going to die soon anyway. He moved his head back and his lips found hers. The kiss was awkward, with his cap getting in the way and teeth banging against each other, and they had no idea where noses were supposed to fit. It was also, by a considerable distance, the most wonderful moment of his life.

  “Pathetic,” said the ginger-bearded snowman.

  They disengaged from the kiss and Bianca gave Emilio a big smile, then she turned to their chaperone. “I swear you’re going to get your head knocked clean off, you micro-penised, ass-munching—”

  The snowman reached for his handgun again and Emilio all but threw himself on top of Bianca. “She didn’t mean it! She didn’t mean it!”

  “One more word.” He took his hand off the grip of his sidearm.

  Emilio relaxed slightly and spoke in his softest voice. “You t… trying to scar me for life? First girl I kiss, and she gets her head blown off ten sec… seconds later?”

  Bianca smiled at him. “First?”

  “I was holding out for B… Beyoncé, but it’s looking like that might not happen.”

  She slapped him gently on the back of the head and then kissed him again. The second one was even better. The trick with the nose thing was that everyone leaned to their right, apparently.

  Technical second base and one hundred per cent verified first base. This was a big day for Emilio. They disconnected lips and leaned against each other. It felt somehow different now.

  Behind them, Emilio heard a radio beep.

  “Confirmed. Target has arrived.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Smithy pulled the taxi over to the side of the road. At least, he thought he did. Since they’d left the I-95, the roads were so covered in snow it was impossible to see any markings. He was using the GPS as his primary method of figuring out where the road might be, which wasn’t the greatest of driving techniques. He couldn’t see much outside of the snow-filled beams of the car’s headlights, so he knew nothing of the area they were in except that there didn’t appear to be anyone else on the roads. The taxi’s wheels had been ploughing through a crisp covering of unsullied snow that was getting steadily deeper.

  “OK,” said Smithy, “I think this is as far as I can take you and have any realistic shot at getting back onto the interstate. Welcome to sunny Connecticut.”

  “Grand,” said Bunny, “appreciate the effort.”

&
nbsp; “No problem. That’ll be 186 bucks.”

  Bunny gave a sad smile. “Put it on my tab.”

  Father Gabriel was going through the sports bag. “I’m taking the Glock; do you want the Sig and the spare clip?”

  Bunny looked at Smithy and nodded towards the back seat. “He’s not big on goodbyes.”

  “Oh,” said Gabriel, shifting awkwardly. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Yes, the Sig, and I’ll take the baseball bat too.”

  “Really?” said Gabriel.

  “It’s not my sport, but I’m a bit of a demon with a stick. It’s sort of my signature move.”

  Gabriel nodded and then looked at Smithy. “Thank you for the ride and for taking care of our friend in the trunk.”

  Smithy nodded.

  HE IS WELCOME.

  “I will…” Gabriel looked around and then got out of the car. “Take your time.”

  Bunny watched the door close behind him. “I think he thinks we’re going to kiss or something.”