Run With Me

by Shorter, L. A.

  Colt

  The final words are still repeating over and over in my head as I watch Kitty reading the page. That name is Michael Carmine.

  As she reads I see her eyes grow more and more with confusion, until they open wide at the final revelation. She quickly turns to me, a look of shock on her face. “Carmine? It was him all along?”

  I nod, and she returns to the book once more to re-read it. I can understand that. I've re-read it several times already, but the words stay the same, revealing no more of the story. But what more is there to tell? What more do I need to know? Suddenly, everything makes sense in my head. Now, as Pullman said, someone has put the pieces together.

  Kitty lifts her head from the book again, and starts trying to figure things out. “But didn't you tell me Carmine said it was a guy called Teddy Klein? Why would he say that?”

  It's the first question I asked myself as well. And there's only one explanation.

  “Because he's been playing me for a fool,” I say. “Because Klein and he have always been rivals, and now Carmine wants him dead. Why bother using one of your own guys when you can just manipulate someone like me into doing your dirty work for you? They were all lies, Kitty. Lies to keep me off his back and get me to do the job for him.”

  I remember how he looked when I asked him who the man who ordered the arson attack was. I remember his mouth briefly curling into a smile as he spoke the name of Teddy Klein, knowing that all I'd want from then on was revenge against him. I remember how he suddenly relented, suddenly became willing to give Kitty up, all for the greater prize of having me kill Klein. I didn't question the turnaround then. All I wanted was for Kitty to be safe. Now, though, it all makes perfect sense. He manipulated me, twisted me into seeking revenge against Klein, when it was him all along. Him who ordered the murder of my family. And it wasn't an accident. It was murder, revenge.

  “But why would he do it,” asks Kitty. “Why would he kill you family? Because Sophie owed him money?”

  This is what's lingered in my mind for the last hour. Why did he do it. It can't have been just the money. No, it must have been more personal than that.

  “I think he wanted her,” I say, my hands gripping hard at the wooden table at the thought. “He gave her a way out of paying back the money, and she said no. So, he took revenge in his own way. She rejected him, so he killed her....and my little girl.” My voice grows weak as I finish the sentence, my thoughts once again consumed by images of that night.

  I drop my head and feel Kitty wrapping her arms around me from behind. But my sorrow is brief, pushed to the back of my mind quickly. I don't linger in mourning. Instead a burning desire for revenge consumes everything. All my hurt, all my grief and suffering is numbed by my hatred, my fury. And now, now it's even more intense than ever. For years I've yearned for vengeance against a nameless killer, a ghost of my past who I'd begun to believe I'd never catch up with. Now I know for sure who's been behind everything. Not only the murder of my family, but of Tara, of Kitty's aunt and uncle, of Dale. It's all been one big web of lies, but this small confession has unraveled them.

  Despite his part in it, I say a silent thank you to Robert Pullman. He may have started the fire, but he was always being controlled by a puppet master. Now, the veil has been removed and I know my true target. He managed to evade me once before, knowing I was coming for Kitty. But not this time. This time I'll see him pay for everything he's done. For me. For Kitty. For all the lives he's destroyed. I'll finally get vengeance for all of us.

  Kitty's voice once again brings me back as I slowly lift up my head. “So, what now?”

  I stand up and feel her backing away slightly behind me, her arms falling off me. Then I turn to her and tell her what she already knows. “I'm going to kill him.”

  “And Rugger too?” Kitty's eyes are glowing with a flame just like mine. A flame of fury and vengeance. Of bloodlust.

  “Rugger too,” I say coldly, our eyes locked together.

  She nods as she moves towards me, then hugs me. She's not the type to wish death on anyone, but this is different. Rugger killed people she cares deeply about. He tried to kill her several times, tried to kill me. He deserves to die just as much as Carmine, and I'll happily see it done.

  “What time is it?” Kitty asks, her head still locked against my shoulder.

  I know what she's asking. She's asking whether I want to leave right now. Jump inside the car and start back south towards LA. “Time to sleep,” I say, knowing that my mind will be too active this evening to get much rest.

  A loud burst of thunder shakes the foundations of the cabin once more, and with it comes a fresh deluge of rain. It wouldn't be nice trying to reach the car in this anyway, nor would driving in it be particularly pleasant. By morning, hopefully the storm will have passed and we'll be able to get back on the road. For tonight, however, we're stuck here.

  The bed in the corner of the room is small, only a single. I walk Kitty over towards it and lay her down. I can't help but think she looks great in my shirt. She's a natural beauty, and looks great even without any make up on and with her hair messed up by the earlier storm.

  “I'll take the sofa,” I whisper, but her hand reaches up to me. She pulls me down onto the bed and I curl up behind her, the both of us hardly fitting on the small mattress.

  “Stay with me,” she says quietly. “I don't want to wake up alone.”

  I remember that she spent several nights alone here, in fear. They can't have been the nicest, and she probably doesn't want to repeat that experience.

  I settle onto the bed behind her, my arm wrapped over her chest and clung to her hand, as she quickly falls back asleep. There's no sleep for me, though. I'll take no rest here. I lie and listen to the raging storm, weather which mimics my feelings. Thunder crashes and lightning sparks down from the heavens, each strike bringing flashes of fire and burning bodies into my mind. With them comes the sight of Carmine, sitting behind his desk smoking a cigar and clasping a glass of whiskey. Laughing at me from afar. For manipulating me so easily. Just waiting for the news that Teddy Klein has been shot dead. That he will have gotten away with murder once more.

  The hours pass, and my eyes soon begin to grow heavy. Eventually, I tumble into a nightmare. Or is it a dream. I see Carmine, sitting at that same desk. The smile is gone. The whiskey glass is no longer in his hand, because they're raised. Raised above his head in submission. He's pleading, trying to explain, telling me I've got it wrong. He turns his head away, shutting his eyes, but I don't speak. Then, a loud bang and a cloud of smoke, and I wake up.

  I sit up quickly, in a sweat. Kitty is already awake, wiping my forehead. “Nightmare?” she asks me. Between heavy breaths I answer. “No. A fantasy.”

  When I stand I see that it's light outside now, and that the rain has finally relented. I move to the door and hitch it open, feeling the cooling breeze flow over my body. The skies are blue now, but the trees still sprinkle the residue of the storm down through their branches and leaves. It's time to go.

  Kitty clearly knows this, because she's already beside me, ready to move. We walk towards the car and Kitty climbs into the passenger seat. I move to the trunk and pick up a plastic gas canister, then return to the cabin. I take one final look around before dousing the entire place in gasoline. Then I walk out, light a match, and flick it inside. Within seconds the entire shack is burning bright in the center of the clearing.

  When I return to the car I can see Kitty's eyes set in a deep frown. I don't know if it's confusion or pleasure at seeing the place go up in flames. “Why are you burning it down?” she asks as I step inside.

  “We need to cover our tracks. Our DNA will be all over it, and I don't have time to fine comb it right now. In any case, Dale won't be needing to use it any more, so no one's going to lose out.”

  She nods in understanding, but something in her eyes tells me she's sad to see her refuge, if only for a short period of time, be destroyed.

  Wit
h the flames still climbing up the walls, however, I turn the car around and begin driving back down the track. Kitty continues to look in the wing mirror until the cabin is out of sight, before staring dull eyed down the road.

  The next day and a half go by without much incident. After a long day's driving my lack of sleep catches up with me, and we spend a familiar night in a motel off the freeway. The following morning, we get back on the road, always wary of any police cars and officers nearby. Kitty is no longer being shown on the news, but the newspapers are still reporting that the investigation into the deaths of Tara and her aunt and uncle are ongoing, and that no leads as to Kitty's whereabouts have been found.

  She's going to have to keep her head down until I've finished the job. Then, and only then, can we look to the future. My apartment should be safe for her. Even if Carmine knows about it, he certainly won't be expecting me to come after him again. This time, I have the element of surprise on my side, and I intend to use it.

  When we return to LA, I drive her straight to my place. I give her a key, but tell her not to leave, unless in an extreme emergency. She needs to keep her head down until I return, and stay out of sight. She hugs and kisses me before I go, but they're only abbreviated moments of affection. There are no lingering looks, no final words. Her eyes tell me she trusts me, that she holds no fear that I'll fail. So she just looks at me one last time and nods. A nod that says 'do it for all of us'.

  Half an hour later I'm parked down from Carmine's club once more. I've already changed out the number plates, just as a precaution in case one of Carmine's men recognizes my vehicle. But I'm far enough away here to be inconspicuous, sitting and waiting inside with a pair of binoculars. I've kept vigil here twice already, and hopefully this will make it third time lucky. Hopefully, now that the dust has settled and Carmine thinks everything has been resolved between us, he'll have dropped his guard and returned to business.

  It's grows quickly dark as I watch, but I see no sign of my target. As before, I'm not privy to other locations for Carmine's offices or residences. I begin to wonder if he's still in safety mode. Still paranoid that I'll come after him to cover my back. Is he holed up somewhere, waiting for news of Klein's murder?

  Then I see a familiar shadow lurking down the alley. Tall, moving slightly more awkwardly than I'm used to seeing. All those injuries he's suffered, from being shot by me in the motel to attacked by the bear in the woods, have slowed him down. It's amazing he kept on coming after us, after Kitty. I guess he must have just got lucky each time, like me with my shoulder. I have regained almost full movement already, although it still hurts like hell.

  I watch as Rugger ambles out to the edge of the alley and lights up a cigarette. The light burns in the darkness of the alley and partially illuminates his face. Even from this distance, I can make out those cold, craggy eyes. Emotionless and black, like a shark. And just as lethal. I briefly wonder what made him into such a person. Perhaps if I'd continued down the same path as before I'd have ended up just like him. A merciless killer. Nothing more.

  He quickly sucks up the last of the smoke and drops the cigarette to the ground. Then he paces forward, grumbles a few words to the bouncers on the door, and steps into a car. It moves off now, down the street away from me, and I quickly spring to action, following behind him, but keeping my distance.

  I've tailed people in the past a hundred times, but most people aren't looking for someone following. Most people are so oblivious to it, in fact, that I could literally sit behind them for miles without them being any the wiser. Rugger isn't just anyone, however, so I stay back and out of sight. It's late, and there aren't too many cars out right now, making it ever harder to blend into the background. An obvious pair of headlights following behind him will almost certainly set off a red flag in Rugger's head.

  I have my tricks though. I put on my pair of night vision goggles, just like when I tailed Kitty, and turn off my headlights. It's not like being out in the country, though, with a thick blanket of cloud to hide under. Here, in the city, even without headlights you're going to be illuminated by street lamps. But it still helps.

  I tail Rugger for about 20 minutes through the city, and not once does he show signs that he knows I'm there. Eventually he pulls up outside a rough apartment building and steps from the car. He looks tired and weary as he moves towards the door, enters a code, and disappears from sight.

  For about 10 minutes I sit and wait down the street, expecting him to reappear. Then it dawns on me that this is where he lives – a grimy apartment block full of crack addicts and meth dealers. I don't know why I expected any different. He'd fit in quite nicely here. I suppose it's the thought that Carmine pays him well enough to live somewhere nicer. Or, maybe, this is where he feels he belongs.

  It's past 3 in the morning when I creep through the night towards Rugger's car. I know there's little I can do now. As much as I want to, breaking in and killing him now isn't an option. For one, I don't know which apartment is his, and secondly, his death would quickly get back to Carmine. Despite Rugger's hand in this, Carmine is still the ultimate goal, and he has to come first.

  I have one move. I retrieve the small tracking device from my pocket and place it secretively on the underside of the car. Now Rugger's working for me.

  Chapter 24 - Kitty

  Kitty

  Colt's apartment is bare. It feels cold and unwelcoming, like a hotel room without any character. In a strange way, it reminds me of the room I was kept in by Carmine only a few day ago. Empty, desolate, lonely.

  There are no paintings on the wall, no pictures, no color. The furniture is sparse. A sofa in the living room, an unplugged television opposite it. It's still got a thin plastic film over the screen, and looks like it's never been used. Dust gathers on the top edge, and I wonder how long it's been sat there for. Months. Maybe even years.

  The kitchen is spotless. Brand new pans and cooking utensils hang, sparkling a shiny silver. The cupboards are mainly bare. The refrigerator is all but empty. It looks like an apartment that someone's only just bought, but haven't yet begun to flesh out. I suspect, however, that Colt's owned this place for a while.

  I finish my tour in the bedroom. The bed is made, the duvet perfectly tucked in. I don't know when Colt was last here, but I'd imagine he'd make the bed just right every morning. It's that perfectionist quality he seems to have. Slightly OCD even. I've noticed it in the motels we've stayed in. The way he orders things and straightens things out, even though the cleaners are going to come in and do it anyway. I know, too, that he takes the same quality into his work. I hope it pays off, one last time.

  In the bedroom is a built in wardrobe. I open it to see lines of suits and dark clothing hanging along a rail. He certainly favors the more sombre colors. At the bottom, sitting on the floor, is a box. I pull it out and open it up. Sitting at the top is a picture. A beautiful woman, medium length blonde hair and gleaming white smile. Holding her hand is a toddler. She has shiny blonde hair, like her mother, and bright blue eyes, like her father. Then my eyes turn to Colt, standing in his military uniform. His eyes sparkle with pride and happiness, his face is tanned and lean and cleanly shaven. They look like the perfect family.

  A tear rolls down my cheek as I step back to the bed and place the box beside me. I remove the top picture and find another, one of Colt smiling as Ellie, his daughter, kisses him on the cheek. Then one of Colt and Sophie kissing as Ellie plays with a toy in the grass. There are others, stacks of them. Hundreds of pictures of Sophie and Ellie and Colt. Of the two of them in high school. Young and blissfully happy. Of their wedding. It looks like a small affair, with only a handful of guests. Of Sophie, pregnant with their child. Baby pictures of Ellie in her mother's arms. Hundreds of memories. A box of pain.

  There are letters, too. Letters between Sophie and Colt from when he was away on tour. Love letters from their youth when they were first dating. The first words of Ellie as she learns to write. 'I love you daddy' is written a
t the bottom of many of Sophie's more recent notes. I can't stop now as I sift through cards – for birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries – and drawings done by Ellie. One is of a man in army gear, standing next to a woman in a blue dress with blonde hair. 'Mommy and daddy' it reads, with a line of x's underneath.

  I don't know how much time passes as I look through the box, examining every picture, reading every letter. I must sit there for hours, digging deeper into Colt's past, into the life that was taken from him. I think of the man now. His entire world bent on revenge. His life mimicking his apartment. Cold and efficient. No pleasure, no joy. Just one job after the next to keep him occupied, keep him numb from his pain.

  I know I'm being nosy, that this is none of my business, Colt's personal things that no one is ever intended to see. Yet I can't stop. I'm drawn to it, sucked in by images of a younger Colt, a happier Colt. I begin to hope that the man smiling with a wide grin will re-appear one day. That with everything that's happened, he'll be able to fully move on. I've seen him in glimpses, perhaps. A smile her, a touch there. But for the most part he's consumed and unable to fight his way out. Maybe now that will change.

  I'm so invested in his past that I don't notice when he appears for real, standing in the doorway in silence. In the corner of my eye I see a shadow, watching me, and quickly turn my head up towards him. He's staring at me, an expression I can't place on his face.

  “Colt,” I say with a start, quickly placing pictures and letters back into the box. “I'm sorry....I...how long have you been there.” I fumble my words, like a naughty child caught doing something they shouldn't.

  “A few moments,” he says, still staring at me. It's like he's refusing to arch his eyes down to the box and its contents, keeping his gaze fixed on me.

  “I was just...looking at some of your old pictures,” I say. “I'm sorry. It's not my place.” I place the lid back on the box and move back towards the closet, placing the box back on the floor inside. When I stand, I find that Colt is close to me, right behind me. It startles me slightly, how quietly he can move.