“You know what I did before I joined the NYPD?”
“You were in the Army right?”
“Marines.”
Erection looked at the bartender and slapped a twenty spot on the bar. “Thanks,” he said. He picked up the two pints of beer. “Let’s take that booth over there.”
Winter nodded his head and followed his partner over to a secluded section of O’Donovan’s, a tavern near 34th Street and 7th Avenue. At this moment, after the lunch crowd and before the after work groups, the bar was dead, silent except for the sound of Bono crooning about the place where the streets have no name.
They slid across from one another. Erection placed his beer in front of him, while Winter took a large gulp of his, nearly taking it to the half way mark. Erection cleared his throat and folded his hands in front of him.
“Yeah,” Erection said, “I went into the Marines right out of high school. I wasn’t much of a student, and I figured that joining the armed forces would be a responsible thing to do. You know, like I could go in there, stay for a tour, and I’d…I don’t know, maybe get a career or something.”
Winter wiped away his beer mustache with the back of his hand.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Just wait,” Erection said, holding up a hand. “Just wait.” He took a sip of his beer. “There are things out there…things you have no clue about.”
“You mean like why little midget body parts are spread across 14th street?”
Erection nodded. “Yeah, that’s a part of it.”
“Freddy,” Winter sighed, “You’re a real good kid. I mean that, and I’m not—what they call it? I’m not condescending you—you’re a real sweet kid. Honest, kind, responsible, you’re an all around Boy Scout.”
Erection snorted. “Dude, you have no idea.”
“Regardless, you’re aces in my book. I’ll tell you, when they assigned you to me—after Lou died—,” Winter raised his beer, “Rest in piece Lou.” He took a gulp, “but when Lou died and they put you with me, well I wasn’t too happy.”
Erection chuckled, “No shit.”
“Guess I didn’t hide it that well. When you get old like me Fred, you’ll learn that you stop giving a fuck about a lot of shit, starting with people liking you. When I came into the force I had dreams of becoming commissioner. You believe that shit? Commissioner? Me? I wanted to wear a nice suit, have meetings with the mayor, take up golf, and have the respect of all the force. Man I was going to be the Head Mick in Charge…” He shook his head and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Looking back on it now I gotta laugh.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The bartender gave a warning yell, but Winter flashed him his tin and took a long drag. “Then I got married, and Lucy pushed out a few puppies, and I had to start figuring out how to put food on the table, and how to keep the pups in school so they wouldn’t have to schlep the streets like their old man. Before I was thinking about golf, nowadays if I look forward to bowling night with the guys. You see what I’m saying? When you’re a kid you got big dreams, you wanna be number one with a fucking bullet. It’s not that you lose those dreams; it’s that they stop mattering any more. You become content. Are you content Freddy?”
“I…I don’t know Wint.” Erection said, looking into his beer. “Things happened a bit differently with me.”
“What you mean?”
“No offense,” Erection said, reaching over and pulling out a cigarette from Winter’s pack, “but you talk about how you wanted to be great—I never wanted to be great, but they wanted to make me great. The Marines that was.”
Winter lit Erection’s cigarette.
“Thanks. When I came through boot camp it turned out.” He sighed deeply.
“What?”
“Turned out I was very good at things no one should be good at. Like tracking people down and killing them.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I scored perfect in firearms, hand to hand combat, infiltration, everything that would make a great killer. They told me they hadn’t seen marks like that in twenty years.”
“So what? You was like—what’s that movie with that kid…you know, that Matthew Damon?”
“Yeah, yeah, a regular Jackson Bourne.” Erection smirked and exhaled a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. Anyway, they sent me off to the CIA for a new program they had. And here’s where the midgets come in.”
“Right…midgets.”
“Ever heard of The Guild?” Erection said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The who?”
“The Guild of Assassins.”
“Sounds like some shit on TV.”
“Well, they’re real. Turns out there’s this, like union of people across the globe, maybe 500 or so—at least they were about 500 when I was active—who do freelance assassinations.”
“Like Hit Men?”
Erection snorted. “No, not quite. They’re the cream of the crop. People who can take down anyone, they have the best training, the best equipment, the best talent, and they are beyond the law. Governments hire them. Get my drift. And they pay very well for their services.”
“Go on.” Winters said, taking another sip of his beer.
“Anyway, the problem with having a service that good is that eventually you stop using it and it starts using you. The US had no defense for The Guild.”
“And then they got you right?”
“Bingo. I was the first member of the CIA’s anti-assassination program. I was there to assassinate assassins.”
“Try saying that five times fast.”
“Wint…”
“Listen boyo, you gotta keep a sense of humor about things. Anyway go ahead.”
“Right…my test run went perfectly—well, not so perfectly. I was supposed to kill the assassin, but instead I choked him out. Turned out I did the right thing, but I discovered that in real world situations I couldn’t kill.”
“Told you, you were a good boy.” Winter chuckled.
“Yeah good. My handlers at the CIA were pissed, but I was the only thing they had at the time. So they kept me on. My next case was watching a suspected target in Israel—Haifa—her name was Elizabeth…”
“Yeah?”
“I—I, er, sorry, this is a bit hard…”
“What happened?”
“I…” Erection took a drag of his cigarette. “I came in under cover as a Marine on shore leave. I was supposed to get in tight with her and then wait for them to come. Since I refused to kill I was supposed to take the assassin hostage, and bring them in for rendition. And everything went…I fell in love with her.” Erection waited a moment, and when Winter remained silent he opened his mouth and closed it again. He rubbed his face. “Fuck it—don’t matter. Anyway, her and I, we stayed by each other side just about all the time, except when she went into the hospital and then I ghosted her. At night I would get her flowers, but that was just an excuse to make a perimeter. I…I didn’t see anything Wint, I mean I would have bet it was a false alarm.
“And I was blinded by love. I was love sick. I didn’t tell her what I did, but I was going to marry her, and take her away from everything. And on the fourth day they hit. I was a second too late. Just one second.”
“You find them?”
Erection shook his head. “No. A second late for that too. Just found the rifle, and it was still hot…” He remained frozen, his eyes fixed in the past. The memory closed in on him like a bear trap, and for a moment, like the smell of morning dew in the spring he could smell Liddy’s perfume…
“But that’s neither here nor there.” Erection said.
“Fred…”
“Seriously, I didn’t even need to go there. So lame!”
“It’s alright.”
“No, no—you wanted to know about the midgets right?”
“Yeah, midgets...”
“Well you saw that thing they were wearing?”
“The Skin Block? That’s what you called it right?”
“Yeah.” Erection said, snuffing out the cigarette on the counter top. “Thin as silk, stronger than Kevlar. Well that’s Guild material.”
“You’re telling me that those…midgets were assassins?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Think about it. Who would suspect they would be killers?”
“But…”
“Put it out of your mind. All your biases and feelings. In my time with the CIA I saw Guild members who were blind, in wheelchairs, black, white, Asian…” Erection’s jaw went slack and he stared off into space.
“Freddy?”
“Nothing.”
“Fred.” Winter leaned over the table. “You gotta trust me here. I’m your partner. I always got your back.”
Erection looked up and took a deep breath.
What if I’m wrong, he thought. What if that wasn’t him?
Then he remembered:
Where’d you learn to shoot like that?
And he knew then that was Knight Rider in that car. He is a member of the Guild.
But what was Dolomite and Lo Mein doing in that car? And why the hell would he be running from the Guild? They never turn on each other. Not since the Silent.
“You gotta trust me Fred. It’s only a matter of time before some civilians get killed.”
Erection nodded his head. He’d made an oath. He’d made several oaths actually. One to maintain the brotherhood, one to defend the constitution, one to protect and serve. Which one comes before the other? At the end of the day, who do you stay loyal to?
“Wint, you gotta trust me here. We’re going to figure this out, together, but I gotta leave you in the dark for a while. I gotta figure the picture out first before I start pointing fingers. You understand?”
Winter rolled his neck around his shoulders. “No,” he coughed, “I don’t understand most of this. I ought to bring you in to psych, but I’m just an old fool.” He sighed. “But go on, take the lead—I’ll follow.”
“Good.” Erection stood up and pulled his cell phone from his belt. “Now gimme a second, I gotta step outside and make a phone call.”
“And I don’t need no hook for dis shit!”
“Knight?”
“I’m so fo real it’s no façade—”
“Knight!”
“Stay outta trouble, momma said as momma—”
“Mother—” Dolomite got out of his chair, and walked over to the empty DJ booth. He reached over and hit the off switch on the turntable. Jay-Z shut up about his momma, and Knight slowly turned towards his brother. Dolomite gulped as he looked at himself in Knight’s dark sunglasses.
“You done fucked up now nigga.” Knight said.
“Who stopped the music?” A young black woman asked as she walked over to the DIKs table, her serving tray holding three bottles of Red Stripe.
“Dis nigga here!” Knight said, waving over to Dolomite.
“Way to dime a nigga out.” Dolomite muttered, sitting back down.
The woman sat the bottles on the table; one in front of Knight and Dolomite and the other in front of Lo Mein, who sat, tie loosened around his neck, head in his hands. With one hand on his forehead he reached over and chugged his beer. He belched, and looked at the waitress. “One more please.” He said. The girl shook her head and looked at Knight.
“What shit are you up to now Knight?” She said.
“Nuttin to worry yo pretty head about Maddie.”
“Yeah, well, just don’t blow the place up.” She said, turning back to the bar. “Least not with me in it.”
“Thanks for letting us crash here.” Dolomite said.
“Don’t thank me.” Maddy said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder towards Knight. “He’s the boss man.”
Lo Mein and Dolomite turned to Knight. “You own this place?” Lo Mein asked.
Knight shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Hey you know how I do.”
“No I fucking don’t!” Lo Mein yelled, his voice cracking under stress. “I have NO IDEA how you roll. Killing people--!”
“Shut up nigga!” Knight hissed, his head tilting in Maddie’s direction.
“Killing people,” Lo Mein continued, whispering, “owning bars—who the fuck are you?”
“Apparently I’m dat nigga saving yo two bitch asses, so mind your fucking manners.”
They sat for a moment, drinking in silence. Then Knight groaned.
“Sorry…I’m not used to this whole truth thing.”
“Yeah?” Lo Mein muttered. “Well I’m not used to this whole mass murder thing.”
“Here we go again.” Knight sighed.
“Yeah, here we go again. Do you have any idea how twisted you are?”
“And do you have any idea how pompous you are?” Knight said. “See, the problem you have is that you think that how you live is common place. Living with both parents in a nice three story house in Queens, middle class, working for a MBA so you can get married and have a wife spit out a couple of niglets of your own. For you murder, suffering, misery, those are all just stories on CNN—news at 11, and when you wanna you just click over to Seinfeld. But the rest of the world, you know, the “fucked up world,” dis shit happens day in and day out. That’s normal. You know why Israel and Palestine will never get along till fucking Judgment Day? and I don’t mean book of Revelations I mean book of Sara Connor, it’s because killing each other is normal for them. Both sides live in a fucking lake of blood, with the dead pushing them towards the abyss, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that people want to live. So they kill.” He leaned into Lo Mein, tilting his beer bottle into his face. “Nigga you look down on me because you have the luxury—let me repeat that word—luxury to live in peace. But two days ago that luxury just got revoked.” He leaned back and took another sip of his beer. “Now you get to see what you really got underneath your skin.”
“And you think that’s right?”
“Nigga!” Knight shouted. “What the fuck is right? Is right getting chased by hitmen hired by your frat to off you cause they took your charter away in the first place? Is right getting gunned down cause you wear little caps on your heads and call God by a different name? Is right getting your house blown up cause someone who looks like you decided to cross the globe to do something bad to someone else? Think about this: What is right is when those that do wrong fuck up.” He looked up and smiled. “Jesus, I feel like I’m talking to Snatch all over again.”
“Huh?” Dolomite said.
Knight wanly smiled. “Back in the days, this place—Grace (rest her sexy soul, heh heh) and I found this place and there was like a summer that her, I and Snatch, and sometimes the Senator, Grizzly, and Erection came down here, and we partied. But usually it was just the three of us. We’d get drunk, and being the dick that I am, Grace and I would allude to what we did just to get a rise outta Snatch. He’s a petey-pureheart like you Lo. Those…those were good times.
“When the bar was going to close down I bought it. It usually loses money, but I don’t care. I keep it around to remind me of those days.”
“What was so good about those days?” Lo Mein asked.
“Ain’t it obvious nigga?” Knight grunted. Lo Mein shook his head. “It was one of the few times when I had your luxury. It was a time of peace.” Lo Mein lifted his bottle. “A toast to peace before the war.”
As if on cue Maddy placed a bottle in front of Lo Mein. He picked it up and, along with Dolomite, clinked it against Knight’s bottle.
“To peace.” Lo Mein said.
“To peace.” Dolomite said.
“To Grace.” Knight whispered.
They drank, and Knight cleared his throat. “Well you better open up that case now Dol. And let’s see if we can’t make a deal with the Devil.”
“This is it.”
“You ready?”
“Yep.”
Grizzly shut the door of his broken van and walked over to Snatch. In front of them was a modest two story home. It was idyllic, white picket fence, green lawn, American flag waving in the breeze.
“Always thought I’d have a place like this someday.” Snatch said, opening the gate that led to a brick road to the front door.
“You?”
“What? Thought I wanted to be in the city forever?”
Grizzly shook his head wanly. “Place like this would bore a guy like you to tears.”
“Maybe,” Snatch said, his hand brushing against the bulge in his pocket, “but it’s a good place to raise a family, and have kids. Don’t have to worry about pushers on the corner. Random violence…”
“There’s something to worry about everywhere you go.” Grizzly muttered. “Right now I’d rather have beef with the Grays and Greens than DIK national.”
Snatch shrugged. Grizzly rang the doorbell.
“What are we going to say?” Snatch asked.
“Don’t know. I’m making this shit up as we go.”
“DIK way I suppose.” Snatch said. He heard the rumbling of footsteps behind the door.
“Hello?” Asked a woman’s voice.
“Yeah, hi,” said Grizzly. “We’re looking for Chad Nuget?”
“Oh…ah, I think you have the wrong house.”
“Isn’t this 15-15 Mockingbird lane?” Snatch said.
“Oh…ah…”
Snatch heard some commotion inside of the house, and then small stamp of feet.
“We’re not here to hurt anyone.” Grizzly said. “We’re DIKs.”
“Isn’t that a contradiction?” The voice said. Snatch smiled.
“No. We’re from Delta Iota Kappa. Chad’s fraturn—”
The door opened revealing a short, plump but not unattractive woman with rosy cheeks and youthful eyes. She wore a floral print house dress, a white dishrag in her hand. Like the house she looked idyllic as well, as if she fell from a cover of a Good Housemaker magazine.
“I know what a DIK is.” She sighed. “I married one.”
“Mrs. Nuget?” Grizzly asked. She nodded her head.
“That’s me. Every day.”
“I’m Grizzly and this is Snatch.”
The woman chuckled. “Still using frat names. Aren’t you guys a bit old for that?”
“Well—ah…”
“Forget about it.” She said, cutting Grizzly off and waving them inside. “Just don’t call me Moll Flanders. The name is Dorothy.”
The brothers walked into the house. The interior of the home was as cozy as the outside. Sofas covered in a white and blue knitted scarf, fresh flowers on the coffee table, a fireplace, pictures on top of that—a shadow out of the corner of Snatch’s eyes running up the stairs—a grandfather clock in the corner its pendulum going back and forth, back and forth.
Dorothy waved the DIKs over to a sofa. Snatch looked at her and noticed her left hand was plucking the fabric of her dress. He nodded and sat down.
“Would you all like something to drink?” She asked.
“Coffee please.” Both Grizzly and Snatch said simultaneously. They laughed.
“Been a sorta long day.” Grizzly chuckled.
“I see.” Dorothy said. “No decaf I suppose.”
“No please.” Grizzly responded. She nodded and walked into the kitchen. Grizzly waited until she was gone and then turned to Snatch and whispered, “You saw that?”
“Yeah? A dog?”
“Big F’ing dog then. She’s hiding something.”
Snatch nodded. “And she doesn’t want us here. She’s nervous.”
“But about what?”
“Think she got a call?”
“Maybe.”
“Poisoning the drinks?”
“You think?”
They looked at other as Dorothy walked back in the room.
“Here’s the coffee fellas.” She said. They turned to her and looked at the cups in her outstretched hands. They pondered them for a moment and, slowly, took them from her.
“Ah, thanks.” Snatch said.
“You need milk or—”
“That’s ok.” Grizzly said, sitting his on the table. “So where’s Chad?”
“Chad’s at work.” Dorothy said sitting across from them in a plush blue love seat. “He’ll be home later.”
Snatch sat his coffee next to Grizzly’s. “You know how long he’ll be?”
Dorothy looked Snatch in the eyes. “No idea.” She turned to Grizzly. “He works long hours.”
“I can see that.” Grizzly said, looking around the room. “He must to be able to afford such a nice home. It’s wonderful.”
“Thank you. Don’t you want your coffee?”
“Huh?” Snatch said. He looked back at his coffee. “Oh. um, I’m just waiting for it to cool.”
Dorothy nodded. “Sure.”
“What does Chad do?” Grizzly asked.
“Computer programming. He’s the CEO of a consulting firm.”
“Impressive.” Snatch said. “His own firm?”
“Yes.”
Snatch looked at Grizzly, “Guess DIK do, do big things.”
“Guess so.”
“And what are you guys here for?”
“Alumni visit.” Grizzly said. “Just collecting contact data.”
Snatch placed the back of his hand vertical to his mouth. “Asking for money.”
“Well…” Grizzly laughed, “that and trying to reestablish relations.”
“Really?” Dorothy said. “Didn’t know you guys did that.”
“It’s a new thing.” Grizzly said. “We’ve lost touch.”
“Ah huh.” Dorothy looked at Snatch. “And what chapter are you guys from?”
“Queens.” Snatch said.
“UPenn.” Grizzly said. They looked at each other. Snatch laughed.
“Well, I’m from Queens and he’s from UPenn.”
“Ah ha.”
“We’re working together.”
“I see.”
“It’s part of a national know-your-alumni effort.” Grizzly said. “To bring everyone back into the fold.”
“Must keep you busy.” Dorothy said.
“Very.” Snatch said.
“I’m sure your coffee has cooled by now.”
“What?” Snatch said.
“Your coffee.” Dorothy said, waving to the two cups. “Remember, you don’t want coffee too cold either.” She rested her hands in her lap. “Personally, I don’t believe in that whole iced coffee thing. Coffee is meant to be drunk hot, or warm. But cold coffee…” She shook her head. “Awful.”
Snatch looked at Grizzly, who looked back at him. Dorothy tittered.
“What? You don’t think I poisoned it do you?”
“Poison you say!” Grizzly laughed.
“Ha, ha ha!” Snatch said. “Of course not! Thought never crossed our minds.”
“That would be pretty nuts.” Dorothy said. “I mean do I look like a girl who would poison her guests.”
They looked at the middle aged woman, her hair tinged in gray, the tiny laugh lines around her mouth, her bright green eyes, her puffy yellow slippers…
“No maam.” Grizzly said, picking up his glass. “No you don’t.”
“I should hope so.” She chuckled. Snatch lifted his glass, looked at Grizzly, they drank.
Snatch closed his eyes and waited a moment. It was delicious.
“This is delicious.” He said.
“It’s Folgers.”
“Well there you go.” Grizzly said, taking a second, long gulp.
“Do you own a dog?” Snatch asked. Dorothy’s grin vanished, her eyes darting for a moment to the left.
“No.”
“Oh shit.” Snatch said, and tossed the cup on the floor. “Grizzly!”
Grizzly looked up at Snatch, his eyes half shut, a lazy grin on his face. The coffee cup dropped from his hands and its contents poured on his lap.
“Sleepy now.” He sighed and passed out, his jaw on his chest.
“Grizzly!” Snatch shouted. He looked up and found Dorothy over him with the fireplace shovel in her hands.
“Chad’s the president of the alumni association liar!”
He tried to duck away but the little poison he drank had sapped his strength. There was a great pressure against the side of his face and then black.
“You believe this shit?” Knight said to Lo Mein, and Dolomite. Lo still had his hand plastered to his forehead, his face flushed from the six beers empty in front of him.
“What?” Dolomite said.
Knight sat his Iphone in front of them and turned on the speaker phone.
“…here at DIK national your phone call matters. Please wait on the line and one of our representatives will speak with you shortly. In the meantime enjoy the soothing sounds of Kenny B…”
“They have you on hold?” Lo Mein muttered.
Dolomite looked at the files laid on the table and fingered an invoice from the government to DIK National for three quarters of a billion dollars for Chronologic Transportative Technology. “Figures.” He said.
The Iphone beeped.
“Got another call.” Knight said, picking up the phone. He saw the number and sighed deeply. “Knew this was coming.” He clicked the call waiting button and held the phone to his ear.
“My nigga!”
“Hey Knight.” Erection said into his cell phone on 34th street.
Ah shit, Knight thought.
“What’s up?” Knight said.
“Dude, were you riding around 20th street today?”
“Today? Might have been nigga.”
“With Dolomite and Lo Mein?”
“Yeah, yeah I was.”
“What were you guys doing down there?”
“Hey bro, what’s up with the 18 questions?”
“Thought I saw you.”
“Might have.” Knight said. “Didn’t see you.”
“You sure?”
“Nigga, if I said it I meant it!”
“Just a lot of stuff went down there today.”
“Really? Didn’t notice.”
“Didn’t notice a pack of midgets with guns chasing after you?”
“Ha, that’s funny nigga.”
“What were you guys doing down there?”
“Christmas shopping.”
“Why are you lying to me?”
“Nigga…” Knight groaned, looking at Dolomite and Lo Mein behind him, “come on B.”
“Come on nothing Knight. I need to know.”
“Know what?”
“So is that how you’re playing it?”
“Playing what? Listen, I picked up Lo Mein and Dolomite up from breakfast and was driving them downtown.”
“Picked them up from a diner?”
Knight ran his fingers through his hair, and grunted.
“What’s this about?” He asked.
“What’s this about?” Erection mimicked. “You know what it’s about.”
“Nigga! I have no clue. Look I have another—”
“Stop it!” Erection screamed. “Stop playing these games with me. Can’t you just be honest for one fucking moment?”
“Honestly dude…I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Erection placed his hand over his phone and looked at it. He looked back inside of the bar and saw Winter lighting a cigarette. He shook his head.
He’s lying. He’s fucking lying to me. To me! His brother.
He thought of all the times they’d hung out, the laughs, the smiles. Were they as hollow as this conversation? In the end did even their brotherhood matter? He raised the phone to his lips.
“I’m trying to help you out.” He said.
“I…” Knight stumbled over his next words. “I…I don’t need any help E. I do just fine solo.”
“So it’s like that?”
“Yeah.” Knight said somberly. “Yeah, it’s like that.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you at the finish line.”
Knight opened his mouth to say something, but then lowered his phone and hit the call button. A voice said, “Hello? Hello? Who the fuck is this?”
Knight chuckled.
“Hello Douchebag.”
Theo Prey locked the stall in JFK International airport, sat his duffel bag on the floor next to him, pulled his sweat pants down and sat on the toilet. As the first turd fell out he thought that shitting was the difference between reality and fiction. Books never showed a guy taking a shit, or if they did they always ended up dead, usually from some zombie hand coming out of the toilet to drag them down to the shitty depths of the sewers.
Slowly, he looked between his legs into the bowl. Then he wanly chuckled.
No way, he thought. No way is something bad going to happen. In a few minutes I’ll be on my way to Mexico, an insurance check waiting for me in Mexico City and tomorrow I’ll be in a beach town so small it doesn’t even have a name. And then I’ll get on with my life.
My life. My life? Jesus, when was the last time I had a life? I feel like all I’ve ever done is live someone else’s life, follow someone else’s plan. He thought of Chantel again. How that bitch used me, he thought. If it had of been just sex…I could have gotten used to that, but carrying my little bro’s son…no I couldn’t deal. I wouldn’t deal.
But he still had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he should of. He shouldn’t have left her. He still had a feeling that she would have taken him to greatness.
“Fuck that.” He grunted. “Fuck that, fuck her, fuck all of it.”
That’s right, he thought. Fuck them. By this time tomorrow I’m going to be sitting on a beach, drinking margaritas, looking for a new wife, and this time, I’ll have the power to hold on to her. I won’t be Theo Prey, but Christian St. Christian, dot com retiree. I’m sick of Theo. I’m done with this life. Like the old cliché: I’m sick and tired of being—
Suddenly the door slammed open, and a man in jeans and a beige jacket loomed over him. A silenced pistol was jammed in his face. Theo closed his eyes, and shook his head.
“Man.” He sighed. “So close.”
The man cocked the pistol. Theo opened his eyes and looked down the barrel of the gun.
“Hold on a second.” He said. He tensed his lips and there was a watery plop beneath him. He exhaled and smiled.
“Ok, go ahead.”
The man pulled the trigger, and that nagging feeling in the back of Theo’s head disappeared forever.
Grizzly groaned, took a deep breath and flittered his eye lids. He tried to move but his body was stuck. Everything around his was dark, but then his he saw shapes and tones of gray. He made out a workbench, construction tools, a hacksaw.
“Snatch!” He whispered. “Snatch!”
“Right here.” Came a groggy voice from behind him. “Oh man my head is pumping.”
“You stuck?”
“Yeah, I’m tied down. You?”
Grizzly studied his body. His hands, torso, and feet were bound in heavy rope. He groaned, “Yeah.”
“I think she tied us together in the basement.”
“Like Indiana Jones and his dad?”
“Yeah. Like that.”
“Cool!”
Snatch shook his head. “What is the matter with you?”
“Come on, when you’re getting tied up that means you made it.”
“Made what?”
“Hero status.”
“You read too many comics. You see anything to free us?”
“Some tools. A hacksaw.”
“A hacksaw? Oh shit. That bitch is going to torture us!”
“No she’s not.” Grizzly said.
“Nigga! She drugged us, brained me, we’re tied up in the basement, and you see a hacksaw. I’ve saw this movie when it was based in Texas.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Maybe she’s a serial killer.”
“Dude, women aren’t serial killers.”
“Yeah dude, and there’s no such thing as Vampires.”
“Touche.”
Snatch grunted. “Touche my dick. We gotta get outta here.”
“Can you slide your body?”
Snatch tried grinding his hips into the chair. It bounced a bit but there was no movement.
“No she tied me up too tight.”
“What about a lighter? Isn’t that how Indiana got free?”
“There’s one in my pocket.”
“Let me see if I can reach it.”
Grizzly bent his wrist and flexed his fingers. He could touch Snatch’s shirt but that was about it.
“Can’t reach it.”
“Well it’s in my pants pocket anyway. You’d probably grab my dick.”
“Dude, you are so homophobic.”
“Am not!”
“Are too.”
“Har!” Snatch grunted. “This coming from the guy who used to molest Bobby!”
“Oh that again. Since when can’t a brother horseplay with another brother?”
“Dude, you bit his nipple. That’s gay!”
“Homophobia.” Grizzly sighed. “So sad.”
“So gay.”
“Wait, I have an idea.” Grizzly said. “Hold on for a second.”
“Wait, what are…?”
The chairs began to rock back and forth. Snatch yelled as the chairs wobbled and fell to the side.
“Oh shit! I fell right where she hit me!”
“Yes!” Grizzly shouted. “Your lighter fell out of your pants right?”
With his face pressed against the ground Snatch sighed. “No Grizzly. It didn’t.”
“Oh guess that...hey did you hear that?”
“Dude, I can barely hear you with one ear pressed to the ground.”
Grizzly tilted his head up. He couldn’t make out any words but—
“Some one is arguing upstairs.” He said.
“Who?”
“I can tell a woman’s voice. And a guy.”
“Wow, so much information I don’t know where to begin. Thanks Dan Rather.”
“Sarcasm isn’t going to get us out of here you know.”
“Neither is turning the chair over!”
“Wait, I have another idea.”
Snatch sighed, “I’m one ear.”
“Try using your shoulder to push us over to the table. Then I can knock it over and get a tool.”
Snatch thought about it for a moment and shrugged. “That might work.” He said.
“Come on.” Grizzly said.
For the next five minutes or so, with the hushed yet agitated voices coming from upstairs, the two DIKs snaked their way over to the table, grunting with exertion.
“Ok,” Grizzly sighed. “My foot is next to it. I’m going to kick.”
“Ok.” Snatch said, “Just be careful—”
Grizzly pushed out with his foot against the leg of the table. It must have been precariously balanced because it easily fell over them. Grizzly managed to miss the brunt of it, being so close to the bottom of the legs, but the contents of the table dropped on Snatch’s head, including a hammer that dropped squarely on the side of his skull, knocking him out.
“Sweet!” Grizzly said. “Now see if you can grab something. Snatch? Snatch? You there Snatch?”
Knight hit the speaker on his Iphone and sat it down on the table. Dolomite and Lo huddled around it as Knight took a sip of his Red Stripe.
“So you’re the one causing me all the trouble?”
Knight snorted, “I get by with a little help from my friends. Say hi guys.”
“You fuck.” Dolomite hissed.
“You piece of shit.” Lo Mein grunted.
“Man,” Knight laughed, “people just love you don’t they?”
Chuck Down cleared his throat, only barely containing his rage.
“You won’t get through the night.” He said. “You know that don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Knight said, “The score is like—” He raised a hand and counted on his fingers. “Like 5 million to zero against you. Personally, I can keep this shit up all year.”
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Actually I think we do.” Knight coughed, pulling the file in front of him. He pulled an invoice out at random. “5 million for energy weapons, 750 million for chrono...something technology—I don’t even know what that is—but I bet someone at the Times might, or the Journal…Tell me Douche, are you ready to have a platoon of media surrounding your little fancy skyscraper in the middle of nowhere?”
“I’m totally shivering in my pants.”
“And those are some big ass pants.”
Lo Mein coughed and leaned over the phone. “Chuck? This is Lo Mein, you remember?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Look, I’m going to be the voice of reason here since this is going no where. Obviously, you want these papers back, right?”
“Right.” The First Brother said.
“And all we wanted was our charter—that’s it. So how about we make a trade? The charter for the papers.”
“You just hand over the papers, just like that?”
“You’re not really giving us any outs are you Dou—Chuck.” Dolomite said. “What’s the choices here? A) We run for our lives—forever. B) We go to the press and tear the whole thing down—and that defeats the whole purpose of getting our charter back. Or C) We make a deal.
There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally the First Brother said, “How do I know you won’t make copies?”
“You’ll have to trust us.” Dolomite said. Chuck laughed.
“Trust you? Do I have sucker written on my forehead?”
Dolomite bit his lips.
“Look,” Lo Mein said, “we just said it was in our self-interest not to bring down the frat. No one wants the exposure, but no one wants to die either. We just want this shit to end.”
“And let’s just say,” Knight cut in, “that we did make a copy. It would only be to protect our asses. After all, I think you now know not to fuck with this chapter.”
“And Queens—” Lo Mein cut in. Knight sighed.
“Yeah them too.”
“So what now?” Chuck asked. “You want to be dues free?”
“No.” Lo Mein said. “All we’ve ever wanted was a fair shake from you guys.”
“Like you know what a fair shake is. Maybe I was harsh—but I was just. You didn’t pay your dues, I took your charter.”
“But you didn’t enforce the rules fairly and you know it!” Lo Mein exploded. “Nor did you deal with us in good faith—Jesus Christ Chuck, you’re trying to kill us!”
“Ok,” Knight said, picking up the Iphone, “this is over. We’re going to the media.”
“Wait!” Chuck yelled.
“What is it?” Knight snapped, placing the Iphone back on the table. With one hand he pointed to his crouch, with his other he mimed someone sucking a cock.
“The papers for your charter right?”
“And an agreement that you won’t pull it for the next two years.” Dolomite said. “To give us time to catch up with paying dues.”
“Fine, fine.”
“And, of course, you’ll pull the hitmen off our back.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Forever.” Lo Mein said.
“Right, right.” He paused and then chuckled. “Well I can give you and the tall, dark, nasty one that. But your other brother…well he’s got problems of his own.”
“Gee, I didn’t know you cared.” Knight laughed.
“You guys better steer clear of that one.” The first brother chuckled. “He’s persona-non-grata with his friends.”
“What do you—?”
“Never you mind.” Knight said, cutting Lo Mein off. “Were do you want to do the meet?”
“I suppose you want to do it somewhere public?”
“No I want to meet you in your office, or in the middle of a fucking forest so you can kill me with no one around.”
“Oh lovely, hit man humor. So where should we meet?”
“Grand Central.” Knight said. “9 am. Middle of the plaza.”
“Most crowded place on Earth.” Chuck said.
“No that’s your mom’s twat.” Knight laughed.
“Tell me,” the First Brother said, “when the Guild kills you—sorry I mean when they capture you, and torture you, do you think they’ll let me take a crack?”
“You can tickle my nuts Douchey.” Knight said, his mouth a thin straight line. “Any time.”
There was a pause and then laughter across the line. “I tell you guys—stay away from this one. He’s murder.” He laughed again. “Get it? Murder? Oh I kill me.”
Knight took a breath and thought, No, please, allow me.
“9 am Chuck.” Dolomite said. “Come alone, and no guns.”
“Yeah knucklehead. I’m going to shoot it out in front of all those National Guard troops around. Really smart.”
“See you then.” Knight coughed, and hung up the phone.
Then DIKs leaned back in their seats and picked up their beers.
“Do we trust him?” Lo Mein asked.
“Can’t see how we have much of a choice.” Dolomite grunted. “Not unless we want to run for our lives for the rest of our lives.”
“I could go after him.” Knight shrugged. Lo Mein slammed down his beer.
“Dude! What the fuck is the matter with you?”
“Wha?” Knight said. Lo stared straight into Knight’s mirrored glasses, and his own furious eyes stared back at him.
“I mean who are you? Like Jackson Borne or something?”
“Nah kid.” Knight laughed. “I’m better.”
“Unbelievable. You just think that you can kill everyone. At some point someone is going to kill you, I mean, you do know that right? I mean you’re not going to die of old age, surrounded by grandchildren and a loving wife and friends. You’re going to die, alone, with your throat slit, your balls stuffed in your mouth, your body filled with bullets!”
Knight looked at Dolomite and poked a thumb at Lo Mein. “That’s pretty gay—”
Lo Mein slammed his hand on the table and the bottles jumped into the air. Madeline, sitting behind the bar in the back shouted something and Dolomite gave her a weak smile.
“I’m not fucking with you Knight! This is not a joke!”
“Lower your Godamned voice!” Knight hissed.
“Lo,” Dolomite said, “you’re hysterical. Chill the fuck out.”
Lo Mein took a deep breath and took an angry sip of his beer. He swallowed and said to Knight, “You know I’m right. Deep down you know it.”
“Shut up.” Dolomite said.
“No, it’s alright.” Knight chuckled. He took off his glasses, and looked at Lo Mein. Lo Mein recoiled.
“Let me tell you about the difference between you and me. It’s not the fact that I kill people for a living and you don’t. Or that you’re in school or that I dropped out. Or how we dress, or who we date, or any of that shit. You know the real difference? The real difference is that I just don’t give a fuck and you do. You care about the future and I care about the present. Right here, right now, this beer, this conversation. You scheme, you plan, but I break schemes, I explode plans. I’ve seen the dreams of men vanish as the light goes out of their eyes. Poof. Like snuffing out a candle. And just like that I’m free. Freedom to you is a word, a thought, a fucking vote, an Obama pin, but for me it’s life. Since I began this life I’ve done what I wanted to do, said what I wanted to say, and I’ve been unafraid. Can you say that? Are you unafraid? I know you’re not. You stink of fear. You ooze it. I don’t. So I’m free. Heh, I’ll die alone?” He placed his glasses back on and picked up his beer. “Maybe, but I still don’t give a fuck. And if you start this bullshit again, I will break your legs, dump you in a ditch in the middle of nowhere, and make you walk home.”
“You wouldn’t.” Lo Mein gasped. Knight smirked and looked at Dolomite.
“Who is this nigga?”
“I don’t know man,” Dolomite shrugged, and turned to Maddy. “Hey, could I get one more?”
Erection sat back in the booth.
“You ok?” Winter asked.
“Huh?” Erection said.
“Hey man, come back to earth.”
“I’m here. I’m here.”
“So what’s the word?” Winter said. He leaned forwards and pressed his hands together.
“Well…” Erection began to speak, and then his words became caught in his throat.
Wait, he thought. Freeze frame.
His eyes wandered to Winter’s hands. He noticed his thumbs busily rubbing together. Something is wrong. He looked in his partner’s face. An expression glanced across it, flashing only for a microsecond, but Erection, trained in interrogation, picked it up. Greed? Expectation? No, he thought, it was amusement. He’s amused. Amused? Why?
Erection knew where Knight and the rest of the DIKs were. He heard the music in the background, the airbrakes of a city bus, and then blare of classical music behind that. He knew it was Rob’s. Knight had taken him there too many nights for him not to know. A hip hop bar, by a bus stop next to the city’s only exclusively classical music store. Erection had wanted to run down there, pick them up and bring them in, if only for their own safety.
But now…
“What is it?” Winter said.
Erection frowned and looked at his beer.
“Nothing.” He looked back at Winter, his face flat. “Thought I saw something, but I was wrong.”
“Oh.” Winter sniffed, leaning back in his seat. He lit a cigarette. “So what now? I mean I have no problems staying here and getting my Irish on, but we are supposed to be on duty…”
“Yeah.” Erection said. “Guess we head back to the scene and see what we can dig up there.”
“We are detectives after all, we should be detecting.”
“Right.” Erection said. He tossed back his beer and stood up. Winter followed suit, pulled out his wallet.
“I got this.”
“You sure?”
“Hey can’t an old cop buy his partner a drink?”
“Thanks man.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Winter walked over to the bar and dropped a twenty on it. “Keep the change.” He said. The bartender nodded back, and Winter followed Erection outside.
“Hey,” he said. Erection turned around and Winter put a strong hand on his shoulder. “You know kid, you’re a dammed good cop. You know that right?”
Erection shyly lowered his head.
“Wint…”
“No seriously, you are. But—hey look at me.” Erection picked up his eyes and looked down into Winter’s icy blue eyes. “Hey, you gotta learn to trust your partner. You can’t go it alone, you got me? I’m here to get your back. That’s what we do. Got me?”
Erection weakly smiled. He though again about telling Winter about Rob’s, but he couldn’t get the image of Winter’s thumbs rubbing together out of his head.
What was that all about? He thought.
“I got you bro. Everything is cool.”
“You sure?” Winter said. He cocked his head to the side as if he needed to get a new perspective on Erection’s face. He stayed like that for a second, smiled, and playfully smacked him on his cheek. “Yeah, you’re gravy.” He walked around to the driver’s seat.
“Picking up midgets off the pavement.” He grunted. “What a fucking job.”
Snatch blinked and opened his eyes.
“Snatch!” Grizzly whispered. “Snatch!”
“Jesus,” Snatch groaned, feeling the cold concrete against the left side of his face, “I need a cigarette.”
“Something’s going on upstairs!”
Snatch tilted his head upwards. Sure enough the voices above grew in pitch. There was the slamming of doors, a window breaking. He attempted to reach for the box in his pocket, but his hands were firmly fixed against his waist.
“What is it?” Snatch asked.
“I have no—”
Grizzly’s voice was cut off by the sound of gunfire. There were a few shots at first and then there was the unique sound of a shotgun screaming, and a woman’s cry.
“Holy shit!” Grizzly yelled. “Help! Help!”
“Yeah, that’ll help.” Snatch grunted. He really wanted a cigarette.
The gunfire went on for a minute more and then with one punctuating report. The room went silent, except for footsteps above.
“Someone’s coming.” Grizzly said.
The basement door opened, and someone came down the stairs. Snatch saw a woman’s legs step off the bottom stair and came to rest at his eyes.
“What did you guys do?” Dorothy asked. The barrel of a smoking shotgun entered Snatch’s frame, pointed to the ground. He gulped.
“Who’s there?” Grizzly asked.
“We have to get out of here.” Dorothy said, placing the shotgun at her feet. She untied their bonds, and, when he was free, Snatch rolled to the side around her, grabbed up the shotgun, and pointed it at her.
“Ok, get away from him.” He said.
“No, you get away from her.”
Snatch looked above him and found a white man standing above him dressed in a suit. He was holding an M-16 in his hands, the barrel pointed Snatch. Behind the man, in silhouette, was either a tiny man or a boy dressed in baggy clothes.
“What the fuck!” Snatch yelled. Grizzly stood up and rubbed the ache of the rope out of his wrists.
“Drop the gun Snatch,” Grizzly said. “Chad I presume.”
The man lowered his weapon, walked past Snatch, and placed his arm around his wife.
“That’s me.” He said, extending his hand to Grizzly. They shook. “We have to go.”
“What’s going on?” Grizzly said.
“I’ll explain it as we go.” He turned to Dorothy. “Ready?” She held out her hand to Snatch.
“Yeah.” She said. “I’ll need that back.” Snatch shook his head.
“How do I know you won’t blow me away? You already brained me once!”
“I didn’t know who you were.” She said. “I thought you were TEPs.”
“Huh?” Snatch said.
“We don’t have time for this.” Chad groaned. “More will be coming soon and we need to get to our safe house.”
“Safe—?”
“Snatch!” Grizzly yelled. “Give her the gun.”
“You sure?”
“Do it.”
Snatch looked at the weapon in his hands and then passed it to Dorothy. He shrugged, “Don’t know how to use it anyway."
“Don’t worry, you’ll learn.” She said.
“Let’s roll.” Chad said, and they marched up the stairs.
At the top of the rise, Dorothy grabbed the boy’s hand, and when Grizzly and Snatch saw him they froze.
“What the hell is he?” Grizzly asked. The boy/ man thing smiled and opened his mouth.
“Who are you?” He said, but neither his lips nor throat moved. It was as if there was a speaker in his stomach that emanated through his mouth. He wore a baseball hat over a hairless head. His skin was perfectly smooth, and taut like a balloon. His eyes were a brilliant green, the color of spring, and bright. Snatch could swear that they glowed. Dorothy pulled him along behind her towards the back door.
“He’s Emissary, but you can call him Em.”
“Em.” Emissary said in a perfect replication of Dorothy’s voice.
Ahead of them, Chad slid open the glass doors to the patio and stuck his head out. He looked both ways and shouted, “Clear. Come on.”
“Is he—oh shit!” Grizzly shouted. “They’re coming from the front!”
Snatch looked into the front room and marching across the lawn, ignoring the bodies splayed on the grass, were about six stormtroopers dressed in purple SWAT uniforms.
“TEPs! Move!” Dorothy screamed. She fired a blast over her shoulder and dragged Em out of the house. Grizzly and Snatch ran at her heels, and as a group they scattered across the back yard.
“Sorry Marty.” Chad groaned as he kicked over the back wicket fence. The wood shattered beneath the sole of his leather shoe, and he pushed the group through the hole. Then he took a knee and opened fire towards the Stormtroopers who were trying to take chase. They retreated back into the house.
“Go!” He shouted to Dorothy. “I’ll meet you there.”
Dorothy nodded her head and waved Grizzly and Snatch forward. “Come on!” She screamed.
“Wait,” Snatch said, looking at Chad unload his clip, “What about—?”
“We have a plan!” Dorothy screamed, already across the next yard. “Just move!”
“Go!” Chad said, dropping his M-16, sprinting across the yard away from Dorothy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.
Grizzly and Snatch looked at each other and they took off after Dorothy. They jumped through some bushes into another yard. They just managed to see Dorothy throw Em over her shoulder and run into another side street. Grizzly and Snatch followed her, and around the corner they found her opening the door to a small red hatchback. “Move!” She screamed. The DIKs piled into the car as she revved the engine and looked behind her.
“Come on.” She muttered as she put the car into drive.
“What?” Grizzly asked.
She groaned, “buckle up,” and took off down the street.
Chad paused from the bushes and watched as the Stormtroopers carefully crept out of his house into his backyard.
That’s right you fucks, he thought. Come out, come out, where ever you are.
He waited five more seconds and looked at the box in his hand. On its side was a red switch. He sighed deeply. So many years, decades of work…all up in smoke.
He flicked the switch.
In the car Grizzly and Snatch shouted as the world went bright behind them, and Dorothy could see the fireball that was her home fill up the rearview mirror. She gulped and then looked at Em. Em looked back at her and smiled his dumb, innocent smile.
“Fire bad!” He said, replicating Phil Hartmann’s Frankenstein imitation made famous on Saturday Night Live.
“Yeah,” she said sadly, “fire bad.”