Vengeance Before Virtue

by Tyler Porter

  “So? What did she say?” Andi asked.

  “She isn’t here.”

  “What do you mean she isn’t here? Who were you talking to? Your dad?”

  “I wasn’t talking to anyone.” He was still focused on his findings in the garage.

  “You were gone for a pretty long time to not have been talking to someone.”

  “Andi, I found something alright?” he responded in irritation.

  “You found what?”

  He hesitated, partially because he wasn’t quite sure of what he’d actually found in the garage, and partially because he didn’t want to scare her. Without answering, he pulled away from their parking spot on the curb and started toward the center of town, towards Daryl’s Grocery. Andi had come to know him well in a short amount of time. She knew that it was best to let him be when he was lost in thought.

  However, she was also a creature of habit, and she had developed a habit at a very young age of being curious. Of having a burning need to know what was going on inside someone’s head, especially when they didn’t feel like sharing. Almost as if, subconsciously, she was afraid that she might miss out on some highly important piece of information if she just minded her own business. It wasn’t long before her curiosity got the best of her.

  “Matt, what took you so long if no one was home? What were you doing?”

  “My mom left a note for me to meet her in town.”

  “What? Another note? What is going on? Why is she acting so weird?”

  “I have no idea, but she left a note asking me to meet her in town. So that is what I have to do.”

  “What we have to do,” she corrected.

  “No, just me. I am dropping you and Riley off at the ice cream stand, and I will pick you up after I speak with my mother.”

  “Are you serious? You’re dumping us off again? You know, I’m starting to think you just don’t want to spend time with us.” She studied him, and she could tell there was something he wasn’t saying. “Is that it? You’re bored with us? Or is there something else? Something you aren’t telling me?”

  “Look, I don’t feel good about this, alright? Something doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel safe. The note specifically said for me to come alone. The notes, leading me all over the place, knowing where we were staying, telling me to come alone... something isn’t right here, and I sure as hell don’t want you or Riley caught up in it.”

  “Baby, I know there is some crazy shit going on right now. But your crazy shit is our crazy shit. We are in this together now.”

  Matt didn’t answer for a long time. Then he took a deep breath and began.

  “The day we got here, I watched my father point a loaded gun at your head. I love that man, but everything in me was screaming to tear his throat out. I just don’t know what is happening here. When I said we should come on this trip, this sure as hell is not what I expected. And right now, the only thing that I am certain about is that I need to know that you two are safe. If something happened to you, to Riley...” His voice faltered. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

  Andi felt the old familiar urge to argue, to pursue her point and get what she really wanted, but she had gotten better at sacrificing what she wanted in the moment for what she wanted most. What she wanted most was Matt, and if he felt that strongly that them going with him to see his mother was dangerous to her or her little girl, she would wave the white flag. If the worst thing you could say about the guy was that he was paranoid about them being safe, he must be a pretty good guy. She nodded her head in agreement, and then looked in the rearview mirror back at Riley.

  “I’m feeling chocolate ice cream with sprinkles and fudge. What about you!?” she said brightly.

  “I want vanilla! No! Twist! With a cone too!” Riley squeaked.

  “Alright then, driver,” she said to Matt, “to the ice cream stand!”

  “Yay!!!” Riley screamed.

  Two right turns, then one left, and they were in front of Paradise Ice Cream, the only place to get real, soft-serve ice cream in Council Grove. He gave Andi a kiss and then watched as the two most important people in his life strolled up to the order window. He wished he could stay with them. He wished things could just be normal—just a normal family, having a normal day out together, going to a normal ice cream stand, and enjoying a normal afternoon. Nothing in his life was normal though; it never had been.

  His life had involved getting into trouble and hanging around the wrong people in his early teens, military school when he was a little older, murder, becoming a business mogul through avenues he couldn’t even explain, dealing with Will Chaser. And then there was Claire: his executive assistant; the one he’d put so much trust in; and the person who in the end turned out to be a psychopath, a stalker, a murderer. She was the woman who turned out to be so infatuated with him that she would take several lives just to try and get closer to him in her own delusional world.

  Nothing in his life was normal, and he was confident it may never be. Hell, he’d been so close to giving up on life altogether before he’d met Andi and Riley. Before he’d found his new reason to live, to continue onward. They were worth the abnormality. They were worth the chaos. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for those two, including taking on anything that life had in store for them.

  After one last look at the two women who had completely taken over his world, he pressed the accelerator out and started toward Daryl’s. Although he definitely preferred Council Grove to Alta Vista, even his hometown had changed for the worse. It just seemed a little duller, deader, than he remembered. He kept reminding himself that he was so used to big-city living in Chicago that maybe he had just forgotten what it was like to be in a small town. He parked in the empty lot behind Daryl’s and looked around.

  Not only did he not see his mother, he didn’t see anyone. There was no sign of life anywhere in the area, but that was not all that unusual considering this was not a parking lot. It was just the unused space in the lot that the building happened to be built on, and for whatever reason Daryl Thomson had never decided to expand and use the rest of the property. There was an employee-only entrance/exit door at the back of the building and with no other ideas, he figured it couldn’t hurt to try that.

  As he began walking toward the door, and just as he was beginning to think it possible that his mother had nothing to do with the notes to begin with, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. To his right, there was a narrow alleyway between the grocery store and the barber shop. As he turned his attention to the alley, there she was. His mother, standing a the entrance of the ally with big sunglasses on as though she were trying to hide her face. She gestured with her hand to hurry, then turned and disappeared into the alley.

  Matt changed direction and headed toward entrance of the ally. As he rounded the corner, he saw her further down the alley, closer to the exit out the other side. She was standing in the middle of the passage and facing the opposite direction. He slowly began moving toward her, very conscious of the lurking feeling in his stomach that was becoming so familiar. As he approached, he could see that she had something in her right hand, but the alley was shadowed and he couldn’t make out exactly what the object was. He waited until he arrived just a few paces behind her before speaking.

  “Alright, are you finally going to tell me what is going on? Why all the secrecy?” he asked.

  He did not get words as a response, but an action, and one that would confirm the danger he’d been feeling since he first received the note at the door of the hotel room. The woman, who looked almost identical to his mother, spun around quickly and revealed the object in her hand to him at eye level. The burn from the pepper spray coated his face, nose, mouth, and eyes instantly once she squeezed the trigger. He screamed out loud while launching both hands to his face, wiping viciously trying to get the burning to subside, but he would have no such luck.

  He had heard before that when a person loses one of their senses, the ot
hers become more powerful to compensate for the handicap. In that moment, he was sure the theory was proven correct, as although his sight and smell were both taken, his hearing seemed to be at its peak. He could hear several sets of footsteps all around him, and realized he was being surrounded by several individuals. The footsteps sounded heavy, like thuds. Boots. He decided he was likely being surround by a group of men.

  Muggers? Probably not; why the theatrics? Why the pepper spray? Why not just corner him with a couple of guns and demand his wallet? This was planned. Premeditated. Someone—or in this case, several someones—had carried out and executed a carefully planned and polished operation meant to bring him here to this exact place. What was the reason? Who? Why? These questions were pulsing through his mind, fighting for his focus with the overwhelming pain he was trying to ignore. He was trying like hell to make sense of some piece of this when a familiar voice made things a little more clear.

  “You thought this was over, mother fucker?”

  Matt had heard the voice only once, but it was a confrontation that he was sure would stick with him for a good long while: Bran, the Vice President of the biker club.

  “He took my fucking balls! Both of them! There’s nothing fucking there now, but a scar! Because of you. Because you had to come snooping around in my fucking town,” he spat.

  “Bran, it wasn’t personal. And I didn’t mean for that to happen to you. I was just trying to find my sister. I wasn’t looking to cause problems.” Matt spoke through his running nose and leaking tear ducts. He still couldn’t see Bran, but he could guess by the sound of his voice and where it was coming from that the VP was standing square in front of him.

  “I lost my balls. You think that’s not personal? Well, it is to me! And someone has to fucking pay for it! Take him! Beat this bitch the fuck down and hold him. I want his grapes in a fucking mason jar. Now!”

  The first hit came from behind him. It wasn’t the hardest punch he’d ever taken, but the pepper spray mixed with the fact that the strike hit him right in the soft spot between his neck and skull did make for a disorienting blow. He wobbled forward and moved one hand to the throbbing area on the back of his head. That is when the kick connected with his ribs and forced all the air out of his lungs. He fell to his knees gasping for breath. The next kick hit him between the bottom of his nose and his upper lip. He thought he felt his teeth wiggle slightly.

  He was in no position to effectively defend himself, so he just brought both hands up and covered his head from the onslaught the best he could. His neck, back, shoulders, and ribs suffered the brunt of the attack, which seemed to be coming from all directions. He was trying to sort out the lasting effects of the pepper spray, his current position bent over on the ground. He knew only one thing for certain: if he didn’t move or do something to improve his position and escape, he was going to die in this alley. They were going to beat him to death and take his testicles as a trophy to hang on Bran’s bike.

  He still didn’t have full visibility, but the burning sensation had died down a little, so he was finally able to keep his eyes open for more than a second or two at a time. Even so, his vision was blurred at best. He could see at least one man standing in front of him; he would be the first target. He waited, taking abuse from the sides and back, waiting for the man to make a move.

  He’d timed it perfectly. Right as he’d begun waiting for it, the next kick, intended for his sternum, came plunging toward him. He made his leap of faith and caught the man’s leg before it could strike, pulled it to his chest, and leaped forward from his spot on the ground tackling the man onto his back. He did not fall directly on top of the man, but instead moved with the momentum and rolled over him and onto his feet, moving closer toward the exit onto the main street of town.

  He got five or six steps away before he was tackled from behind. He adjusted on the way down so that he landed on his left shoulder, leaving his right arm fully mobile to swing his elbow back and strike his pursuer. He felt the skin of the man’s face break and heard a shriek come from the same place. The man quickly rolled off of Matt, allowing him to get back to his feet. Before he could take another step though, he was grabbed by the shoulders and flung into the alley wall.

  The blurred shape of his next attacker came into view just as he was cocking his arm back to strike. At the last moment, Matt dodged to the right and felt slight relief as the man yelped. He’d punched the stone, outer wall of the grocery store in place of Matt’s head. There are twenty-seven bones between the hand and the wrist; he guessed that damn near every one of them were shattered by that attempt. He shoved the man to the side and desperately continued toward the exit, but the footsteps closing in behind him quickly snatched his attention.

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, he thought to himself as he counted down the steps between him and the person moving toward him. He counted until he got down to two, and drove his right heel backwards as hard as he could. His foot connected with flesh and bone. This time the pain was expressed by a quiet grunt and the sound of a man crumbling onto pavement.

  He was just beginning to believe he was about to find his way out of this when it happened. Thud. Something heavy and made of cold, hard metal was brought down on him between his shoulder and his neck. This time, it was Matt that crumbled. He didn’t feel much pain; it was more numbness. Like he’d been hit so hard that his nerves hadn’t decided what to do yet. All he knew was that his ability to stand was taken immediately following the strike, and he was seeing tiny sparkles in the blur. He was certain he was on the verge of passing out, but before he closed his eyes, the silhouette of a man holding a long, cylindrical object stood over him.

  Was it a pipe? No... maybe a wrench of some sort? Oddly enough, in this moment his mind went to trying to decipher what the object was that had brought him down with such authority instead of on the man wielding it who was about to end his life. The silhouette raised the object into the air above his head, ready to bring it down and crush Matt’s skull. He didn’t strike though. He stood there with it in the air, and started looking around as if he were confused. Seconds later, it was clear why.

  A second silhouette appeared in his view as it leapt through the air and onto his attacker. Matt didn’t see or hear exactly what was happening, but he did hear yelling, grunting, and sounds of flesh hitting flesh. The flecks of sparkle had not gone away, but now a slight darkness was closing in on the edges of his vision. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but if he was going to die, he sure as hell was not going to die shaking in fear of it. He was going to die in the best way he could think of: picturing Andi and Riley; picturing them smiling, laughing, Riley with a dribble of ice cream on her chin and Andi trying to wipe it with a napkin but missing because she was laughing so hard. He pictured himself next to them, not helping to clean up Riley, just enjoying the fiasco as it happened. He wanted to be with them. Suddenly he didn’t care about his parents anymore. He didn’t care about his sister. He didn’t care about the fight that was still happening all around him. All he cared about were his girls. Just his girls.

  The black overcame him, and as far as he knew, he didn’t dream. It was like no time had passed between the picture he created in his head of Riley and Andi, and the second silhouette waking him up. The silhouette who had come at the very last moment. The silhouette who had saved his life. Slowly the silhouette sprouted a face. He’d seen this man before. No, maybe not. Yes, he was sure he had. Where? Where did he know him from?

  Dirty-blond hair, cropped short and combed to the side in a spikey, messy kind of way. Clean-shaven with a strong jawline and cheek bones. These features reminded him of a drill sergeant. Even kneeling in low light, he could plainly see that the man was well built, with broad shoulders and well-developed muscular characteristics. His eyes were the thing about him that puzzled Matt. He’d always had a talent for eyes. He remembered them. He searched in them. He’d developed an extreme ability to read people by their eyes, and because of that prac
tice, he rarely forgot a pair.

  He’d seen these eyes before—deep, green, and distant. Like eyes in another time looking in on the present. He looked harder, trying with everything he had to remember. Who are you? he thought. His attempt at recollection was disturbed by blunt strength pulling him to his feet. The man was strong—there was no question about it—and although he looked fit, he was lean, almost small. He appeared to be in tremendous shape, but didn’t look as though he possessed the strength of an ox. The nameless man helped him up and leaned him carefully against the wall. He allowed Matt to regain his footing and normal breathing before he finally spoke.

  “That was a close one, friend,” he said. Friend? So he knew this man, but how?

  “Who are you?”

  The man just smiled.

  Chapter 10: New Allies, Hidden Enemies

  The man just stood there smiling, like he was a stranger passing by on the sidewalk waving. Like he was a neighbor just getting home from work and excited to get inside to see what was for dinner. Like they had known each other for a lifetime. Matt stared back at the man, but could not force a smile onto his face. It was like his body was rejecting it. As if intuitively he did not want to return this man’s enthusiasm.

  “Name’s John,” he said without breaking his smirk. “I guess you can call me ‘Johnny on the spot’ though. You were in a pretty rough spot there for a second.” He chuckled as he spoke like Matt’s life coming within inches of being taken was some sort of hilarious one-liner.

  “Yeah, I guess I was. And how did you just stumble into it?”

  Matt was sure this man was familiar for a reason, but that didn’t change that he was a realist. What were the chances that this man just happened to be taking a stroll in the alley at the exact moment he was about to be killed? That mixed with his certainty that he knew this man from somewhere told him that their meeting was not coincidence.