Dead Man Walking

by David Carter

  “I got it,” Scarface replied through clenched teeth.

  Blaze released his grip on the brotherhood’s general and stormed out of the bar. Jimmy came out from the storeroom with a loaded rifle. “Clear off, both of you, now!” his voice boomed.

  Scarface dragged Lucky up by the hand and rushed him outside. “I’m sorry,” Lucky said and they stepped out onto the street to see Blaze marching off in a huff. “What do we do now?”

  Scarface literally threw Lucky into his pickup and revved the engine hard. “We follow Blaze and make him suffer,” he replied.

  Blaze heard the screeching of tyres and saw Scarface giving chase. Blaze bolted along the pavement, trying to avoid the early morning swarms of people beginning to clog the sidewalks. He checked over his shoulder as he rounded a street corner. Scarface was right on his tail. He kept sprinting at full speed until he saw the alleyway he was looking for. He bolted down the grimy lane between the high-rise buildings, dodging grease barrels and numerous homeless people sleeping under large strips of cardboard until he came out the other side of the block. The street was quiet. Blaze looked left and right, and when he was sure no one was looking, lifted the grill over a subway ventilation shaft on the sidewalk and disappeared into the darkness below.

  Scarface slammed on the brakes as he pulled up outside the alleyway from which Blaze had burst out moments earlier. He shook all the homeless people awake to make sure Blaze wasn’t hiding among them. “Shit!” he snarled as he returned to his pickup. He anxiously scratched the scar tissue on his neck until it bled.

  His formidable prize had slipped through his fingers yet again.

  Chapter 14

  “You didn’t tell me you and Commissioner Marshall had history; you seriously saved my ass back there,” Ryan said to Hampton as they left Milton City for Brighton Airport.

  They were on their way to meet Spider, Ace and Trigger. Ryan had arranged their transfers and all the necessary documents required to leave to country. He still had no idea where they were headed. Spider had made it clear that he wouldn’t reveal Blaze’s location until they were safely in the airport terminal and their security detail had taken their leave. Only then would they purchase tickets and reveal their travel plans. Spider wouldn’t risk a double-cross.

  Hampton gave Ryan a solemn look. “It’s not so much what I told him about you that made him agree to this absurd adventure,” he replied.

  Ryan was taken aback. “Are you saying it wasn’t my brilliant solve-rate and undeniable charm that won him over?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Hampton scoffed. “Let’s just say I threw a giant Hail Mary that, fortunately for you, came up trumps.”

  “Care to elaborate on that?” Ryan said.

  Hampton cleared his throat. “Well, it’s like this. Some thirty-odd years ago, long before either one of us decided to take different career paths, Jerry and I served on the force together. Jerry was going places, too. Everyone knew he was destined for great things. But there was something about him that always bothered me, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was always so bright-eyed and full of energy, pulling double shifts, and in general, a likeable guy. He was legendary for getting the inside scoop on drug deals and pulling off successful raids. Everyone up the ladder liked him. He was a model officer in their eyes. But to me it all seemed like a charade. So I betrayed my partner and started tailing him whenever possible, until one day I discovered his secret.” He paused to take a sip of water.

  Ryan waited patiently with bated breath.

  Hampton continued. “I was always suspicious of how he knew when and where a drug deal was going down. And it turns out he’d made a deal with the devil. He’d gotten into bed with some of the biggest drug lords on the street at the time, and promised to keep the police away from their business in return for large sums of cash, drugs for his own personal use, and information on rival dealers.”

  “That’s how he got the inside scoop?”

  “Yes. And it worked. He was rushed up the ranks in quick-time.”

  “Wait. You mean no one ever found out about his dealings?”

  “That’s right. To this day I’m the only person who knows.” He paused, then said, “One night I tailed him to a meeting with two thugs behind an old pub after he declined to go out for a beer with me. And it’s just as well I did. The thugs had decided to terminate their agreement with him and were going to use his head for a soccer ball after they beat him to a pulp. I was off duty, but as I was a bit of a cowboy in my youth, I had my own personal firearm on me. So I pulled my weapon and shot both of them dead.”

  “You did what!”

  “It’s the only time I’ve ever fired a weapon outside of a range. And to tell you the truth, I never got over it, so I left the force to become a detective.”

  “But you saved his life!”

  “And took two others in the process.”

  “They bloody-well deserved it.”

  “That may be so. But God tells us very clearly in his commandments not to kill. I’ve known that ever since I was a five-year-old in Sunday school.”

  Ryan sighed in frustration. “Just because you’re Catholic doesn’t mean you broke a commandment, old timer. You saved the life of your friend—and you never ratted him out. Not many people would do that.”

  “And for that he promised he would always owe me one. And right now I can’t think of any better time to finally call in that favour.”

  “You did that for me? Why?”

  “Because there’s a lot of good in you. Yes, you’ve made mistakes, but you’re like the son I never had. And I want you to make things right with Sharon. You both deserve to be happy.”

  Ryan reeled from Hampton’s words. “I don’t know what to say,” he said.

  “Just say you’ll do the right thing this time. Even if it means Blaze goes to prison for the rest of his life. Do you understand me?”

  “But–”

  “No buts!” Hampton cut him off. “He murdered the commissioner! And no matter how bad the circumstances were, it still doesn’t make it right. And if you can’t see that then I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  Ryan took a deep breath. “I won’t let you down,” he replied. “I’ll bring him home and let Commissioner Marshall decide what to do with him. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  They drove in silence until Hampton finally said, “So did you and Sharon leave on speaking terms?”

  Ryan gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white. “She said not to call her until I’ve ‘sorted my shit out’.”

  “Oh, I see. What about Elizabeth? No one’s told her or any of her family that Blaze is still alive. What gives there?”

  Ryan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Steve. I couldn’t do it. I asked Sharon if she would gently break the news while I was away so that Elizabeth didn’t come after me with a rolling pin.”

  Hampton nodded like a wise old owl as he said, “I’d say that’s probably for the best.”

  Chapter 15

  Blaze clambered down a series of large tubes and steel ladders fixed to concrete slab walls until he dropped down into his reclusive hideout. He’d discovered the now-abandoned section of subway by accident after punching out a group of homies who’d mouthed-off at him on a street corner. In the end there was so many of them he had to make a break for it, and hid in the basement of a high-rise parking lot after sprinting away.

  He’d discovered a door that was dead-bolted shut with a sign fastened to it that read: DANGER, KEEP OUT. Of course, the first thing he did was acquire a set of bolt cutters to see what apparent dangers lay beyond. What he found was the ultimate playground: an undiscovered piece of New York—home only to spiders, damp walls, and eerie-solitude.

  The subway system ran for miles underground. Blaze had trudged along the derelict tracks many times over, feeling at one with the forgotten platforms—scattered with trash, cobwebs, and thick layers of dust. Belongings left behind by
the homeless who’d once taken refuge in the tunnels was all that remained of human life; they had long since moved on after the city locked down the system.

  After many nights of scaling the underground concrete framework, Blaze had found more than a dozen different entrances to the subway system. There were many ventilation shafts that came right up on the sidewalks of Downtown Manhattan; he’d committed each one of them to memory. He’d had a gut-feeling he’d rely on them some day.

  Blaze sprinted to the top of a multi-level stairwell and casually swung himself over the steel handrail, holding onto the lowest bar and letting his legs dangle freely over the tracks beneath. He always kept himself in top shape. His love for alcohol was always balanced out with a gruelling workout. The veins on his biceps popped out as he started counting off a set of pull-ups. As his arms began to tire, he contemplated going beyond his physical capability—till he couldn’t pull himself up any further, knowing that if he did he would fall to his death, reasoning that he’d welcome it. But he could never bring himself to let go. The image of his best friend committing suicide by sticking his handgun in his mouth and blowing his brains out in front of him would forever haunt his mind. To top it off the love of his life had been murdered only days later. Losing his girl was the tipping point; revenge was all that mattered. He’d plotted the death of the commissioner and his daughter and fled to New York under a false identity, then chose to fight for Skinny-Jay; it was the ultimate release; fighting was his only coping mechanism.

  Blaze pulled himself up and over the handrail to the safety of the stairwell. He couldn’t come up with a single positive thought about his current situation. Not only was he on the run in a foreign country, but now he was starting to make enemies—enemies with the worst reputations. He thought about the asshole he’d stopped from beating Jane in her apartment. He knew it was likely he’d be going to prison, as Jane’s husband had only been released on parole two months before. He hoped Jane had found the stash of money he’d left her. He almost wished he’d settled things with her husband in his usual violent way. Prison is hardly a punishment for what he did to her, he thought.

  The tiniest grin appeared on Blaze’s face as he thought about Jane’s son, his tiny, innocent hand waving at him from behind the sofa as he left their apartment. He thought Jane was so brave to raise Benji on her own in a rough neighbourhood. At least her husband had arranged for the brotherhood to send her money while he’d been previously locked up. That was when he realised he’d made a terrible mistake. As fast as the grin had appeared on his face, it vanished. He sprinted down the stairwell and along the tracks to his sleeping quarters. He approached the corner of a concrete stairwell and saw his small stash of belongs exactly as he’d left them: a couple of blankets, a duffel bag stuffed full of clothes and rolls of cash, bottles of water and power bars, with an ever-growing pile of empty whisky bottles. He rummaged around inside his bag and reached for his switchblade knife. It was one of his favourite weapons: small, easy to conceal, and when used appropriately, deadly.

  Blaze made his way up the stairwell to the door that opened into the basement of the high-rise parking lot. There was nobody around. There never was. He sprinted to the nearest subway station and made his way to the lower-east Manhattan district. After departing the train, he sprinted through the decrepit neighbourhoods, ignoring the steady stream of crack-whores and rabid dogs, with only one thought on his mind: I hope I’m not too fucking late.

  Chapter 16

  Spider, Ace, and Trigger were released from their cuffs as Ryan and Hampton approached the huddle of bikers inside the airport terminal. Ryan had had a devil of a time convincing Spider to go abroad with only two other members of the MC. But in the end an all-expenses-paid trip around the world was too good to pass up. Spider rubbed his wrists as he said to Ryan, “If you hurry we can make the next flight outta here in the next thirty minutes. You got cash?”

  Ryan waved a gold credit card he’d received from Commissioner Marshall. “Where we headed?” he demanded.

  “Not so fast,” Spider said abruptly. He motioned his head towards the security detail.

  Ryan waved them off. “Thanks for your assistance. I can take it from here,” he called out.

  After Spider was sure the security detail had left the terminal, he revealed their destination.

  “New York!” Ryan spluttered. “Are you bloody serious?”

  “If you wanna find our boy, that’s where we gotta go.”

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “I don’t see what difference it makes. Whether he’s in the U.S. or Australia, he ain’t in the country. And I’m getting on that fucking plane, regardless.” He eyeballed him.

  Jesus Christ, thought Ryan. This is getting out of hand already. “Fine,” he replied, exasperated.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Hampton said to Ryan as they approached the counter to purchase their tickets. Ryan ignored his comment as he ordered five first-class seats direct to New York and checked in his luggage. Hampton continued. “You do know those boys will show loyalty to Blaze over you when the time comes, right?”

  “I know, I know,” Ryan answered. “I’ve been given instructions on how to deal with such matters,” he replied. “Ideally I’ll find some wriggle-room to make everyone happy.”

  “You know the commissioner won’t let that happen.”

  “Then I’ll have to change his mind.”

  “I don’t see how you’re–” Hampton suddenly grimaced as he clutched at his chest, wheezing in agony.

  “Steve? Are you all right?” Ryan gently sat him down and yelled to the lady behind the desk, “Call a bloody paramedic!”

  Within minutes, two paramedics had Hampton strapped to a gurney and hooked up to an oxygen tank in the back of an ambulance. His pain had subsided and he demanded to be released. But Ryan wouldn’t have it. “You’re not coming, Steve,” he said curtly.

  While Ryan was dealing with Hampton, Spider said to Ace and Trigger, “With the old geezer down our plan should be a cake-walk.”

  “Never assume anything,” said Ace. He pulled his dark sunglasses up from his ruggedly handsome face, resting them on top of his shoulder-length black hair. “You know how smart the detective is, not to mention how highly Blaze regards him. So even without his partner, we’ll need to be careful.”

  “I thought we’d already discussed this: we just play along until we don’t need him anymore?” said Trigger.

  “He’ll be expecting a double-cross. He’ll have planned for it,” said Ace. “From now on it’s best we sleep with one eye open.”

  “Both of you, calm the fuck down,” Spider muttered. “We use him until we find Blaze. With all our assets frozen and no money in our pockets, we need him. For the moment, let’s just enjoy our freedom and whatever perks come with it.”

  Trigger, who looked much like Ace’s twin, said, “I can’t wait to get my hands on some American firearms. I hope Blaze has made some contacts over there.”

  “I bet they got some top-shelf shit on the streets,” Ace agreed.

  “How about we worry about getting on the goddamn plane before it leaves,” Ryan said as he returned to the group. “And if all goes well, we won’t need any of the things I didn’t just hear you talking about.”

  “I take it the old geezer ain’t coming?” Spider asked.

  “No. He’s heading back to Milton City. It would seem he ain’t fit to fly.”

  “He’d have just slowed us down anyway,” Spider sniggered.

  “Show some goddamn respect,” Ryan snapped, throwing Spider a filthy glance. “You don’t know the first bloody thing about him. He could run rings around you lot in his prime. And if any of you have got anything else to say about it, you can hitch a ride back to Brighton Penitentiary!” He sharply turned around and stormed off to the boarding lounge. What in God’s name have I got myself into? he thought.

  Chapter 17

  Blaze sprinted up the street
towards Jane’s apartment. His heart sank when he opened the door and saw the trail of blood smeared across the floor. He knew exactly what had happened. And it was all his fault. He should’ve killed her asshole-husband when he’d had the chance.

  He followed the trail of coagulating blood into the small kitchenette. There, lying on her side beneath the table was Jane. Her face was unrecognisable. Her faded blonde hair was stained dark-red from the blood smudged around her head. One of her eyes was completely swollen shut. She lay still. Blaze thought she was dead. He frantically got down on his hands and knees and listened to her faint drawing of breath; she was still alive but her pulse was weak. He reached for his burner phone and dialled an ambulance. They assured him they would be there within minutes.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he held her hand. He felt the slightest movement of her fingers against his. “Benji,” she crackled faintly.

  He laid her hand down gently and checked every nook and cranny in the apartment. He couldn’t find him. Until he spotted the perfect hiding place.

  Blaze was standing in the kitchenette, staring at a set of bi-fold doors on the other side of the room. Sometimes the most obvious place is the least obvious place, he thought. He opened the doors that concealed an old washing machine, dryer, and an enormous weave-basket full of dirty linen. He lifted the top few layers of damp towels and saw Benji’s strands of blond hair beneath. “It’s okay, Benji, it’s Blaze. Do you remember me?”

  “Are the bad men gone?” he heard Benji’s scared, muffled reply.

  “Yes. And they’re not coming back. I promise you.”

  The basket fell forward as Benji crawled out and ran to his mother. He stared at her quietly, then looked at Blaze and said, “Is my mum dead?”

  Startled at his bluntness, Blaze replied, “No, she’s going to be okay. She’s a bit banged up, though. Perhaps you could hold her hand while we wait for the ambulance?”