by Zuko, Joseph
Jacob could do nothing but listen to Arthur ramble on. He wanted so badly to silence the man. He needed a few miles of peace. All of this talk was boiling Jacob’s brain. He ached to open an artery, but no matter the thrill he would never take out Arthur. There was nothing to gain from it. Only healthy vibrant lives could be reckoned. A hunter wouldn’t take credit if a sick bear stumbled into camp and died next to the fire. That would be cheating. Effort had to be involved. It must take skill and a level of patience. Otherwise, what was the point?
“-I left fingerprints on the glass. Jizz in a towel and hair in the sink. Two weeks later I was arrested,” Arthur said as he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He noticed he had lost Jacob’s interest. “I heard Zarren took out an entire mining town in northern Idaho. Can you believe it? Every man, woman and child.” Arthur leaned forward and bowed his head. He stretched his shackled hands up toward his face so he could itch his nose. He glanced at Jacob and saw he had the man’s attention again.
Jacob looked over the inmates and found the prisoner Arthur was discussing. Zarren Torros was a full head taller than any other inmate. He sat alone at the very front of the bus. The big man needed two seats. He sported a lion’s mane of raven black hair and a matching beard.
“No survivors.” Arthur cleared his throat. “It was like forty people. He did it all in one night. The bodies were almost impossible to identify.” Arthur mimed swinging a hammer down between his legs. He struck an invisible skull and then his mangled hands become the skull blowing apart. He made an explosion sound with his mouth. Arthur’s fingers became chunks of the skull that landed in his lap. He pretended to shake them off in disgust. Arthur nodded at Zarren, “That boy’s a crusher.”
Jacob scanned the entire bus. It was only a quarter full with a headcount of twelve convicts. Only the two guards and the driver were healthy enough to count towards his masterpiece. The other inmates were just a waste of time. Their diseased and dying bodies were nothing but empty husks to Jacob. They sat around in chains and waited for Death to pluck them from their miserable existences. Jacob wasn’t going to do Death’s job for him. On top of that, every one of the men here was at one time or another a colleague in the murder game. This fact also gave them a pass. It was common courtesy to not snuff out a peer.
Jacob looked at the back of his hands. Rough and jagged scars crisscrossed his skin. One of his favorite scars was in the shape of a scythe. It curved around his thumb and down his wrist. Looking at it conjured up the image of “Death” as portrayed in the movies and on TV. He enjoyed this concept of a black robed, scythe toting Grim Reaper. The entertainment business made Death out to be a working man. Close to a plumber or a garbage truck driver, as if Death worked in a union. Jacob imagined Old Bones wearing a t-shirt on the weekends that read, Local Chapter of Soul Collectors number 666. His pay was good but Grimmy hated the long hours. The endless job of collecting souls must have been a dirty, disgusting grind that no one ever appreciated him for, but some asshole had to do the nasty work.
Reckoning never felt like a job to Jacob. It was often exhausting and troublesome, but never work. The hours zipped by when he stalked his victims. Running his knife through human flesh was better than any other high in the world.
The bus made fresh tracks in the snow as it wound its way up the highway. The sun crept behind the mountain as it headed west.
A guard moved slowly down the aisle as he checked the convicts. He tugged at their cuffs. The bus sped around a tight corner and climbed the switchback when a family of deer bound across the highway. The animals stopped in their tracks when the headlight of the bus illuminated them.
The driver stomped on the brakes and cranked the wheel. He yelled out, “Shit! Hold on!” There was an enormous crunch as the bus plowed through the deer. Blood and gore splashed across the windshield. Antlers exploded through the glass, impaling the driver. The bus slid out of control, hit the guardrail, rolled over the embankment and down the steep tree-lined ravine.
Jacob could feel the pressure of his restraints against his body, but there was no pain. It looked like his month was about to be cut short. The bus tumbled over and over. Tree branches pierced the windows, killing several of the men in chains and both guards. Heads smashed against reinforced metal.
The bus came to a stop on its side. Fluids and smoke poured out of the engine block. It was total carnage inside the bus. Only a few inmates remained alive. The guard laid across Jacob’s lap. A set of keys dangled next to the convict’s hand.
Chapter 2
Two men circled each other. A fury of punches were exchanged. Drops of sweat spattered onto the mat. Mumbled words poured out over a mouth guard, “Move faster. I hit you with the jab every time.” The man giving the advice fired another quick left. His opponent blocked it this time. “That’s it. Keep your feet moving. Your enemy won’t tell you when he’s about to kick you in the nuts.” A padded shin and foot launched from the mat. Its destination? The groin of his sparring partner. The devastating kick was blocked in the nick of time.
Another round of punches were thrown. Each man made contact with his intended target. The fists moved faster. The hits were harder. Some of the blows were thrown in anger. The friendly competition suddenly became strained when the man giving the lesson landed too many painful and accurate strikes in a row. A mouth guard flew across the mat. The sparring ended with a powerful hook. A body fell to the floor. The man’s arms and legs went limp for a few ticks, his chest heaving.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Ben. Are you alright?”
Ben breathed heavily, his sweat soaked t-shirt clung to his chiseled body. He pulled at the Velcro that held his boxing gloves tight and then tugged at the strap to get his protective headgear off. He laid exhausted on his back and rubbed his sore jaw, “I’m fine. That’ll teach me to block next time.” Ben’s vision snapped into focus as his friend, Dominic, knelt down beside him.
He quickly pulled off his gear and examined Ben’s pupils. The two of them were clean shaven, healthy men in their forties with strong, muscular builds.
Dominic steadied his breath as he spoke, “You want to keep going? Or call it a day?”
“Do I want to keep getting my ass handed to me or go get an ice pack from the fridge? Let me see. Yeah, I think I’m done with today’s lesson.”
Dominic extended his hand and helped Ben to his feet. He threw an arm around Ben’s shoulder and gave him a friendly pat. “You’re picking it up fast, man. I promise in a few months you’ll be right there with me and I’ll be the one getting my ass kicked.”
“This is one hell of a deal you talked me into,” Ben said as he reached down to pick up his spit covered mouth guard. He continued, “Hey Ben, let me workout in your gym for free and I’ll beat the shit out of you a few times a week in exchange. Does that sound good?” He stepped over to a bench and plopped his tired butt down on the black vinyl. “It’s like I’m paying a bully to give me wedgies and flick boogers at me.”
Dominic took a seat next to him, “That’s not how I see it. I’m giving you lifesaving lessons that would cost the average consumer a hundred and fifteen dollars a month in exchange for a gym membership that you only charge thirty dollars a month for.”
Ben swallowed a swig from his water bottle, “Oh, really?”
“My math says you should be giving me eighty-five bucks a month on top of the free gym membership. So let’s see, eighty-five divided by four lessons a week,” he paused as he crunched the numbers, “I should be getting seven dollars a beating and I haven’t even got one damn nickel off you.”
“Deputy Dominic Spence you are a true friend.”
They bump fists.
“How’s business been?” Dominic asked as he ran a towel over his forehead.
Ben scanned the nearly empty gym.
One man, in his late sixties, walked slowly on a treadmill in the corner of the room. All of his workout gear was clearly from the 80’s. From his bright orange foam covered headphones t
o his hot pink shorts. The man was positively retro.
“Business is booming.”
“It’s the end of the year. Next week you’ll get all those suckers signing back up as they try to stick to their resolutions. You’ll be fine.”
Ben mulled it over as he pulled off his shin guards.
“How’ve you and Lisa been?” Dominic inquired as he peeled off the rest of his gear.
Ben tossed his stuff off to the side and got up from the bench. “Have you tried this new post workout drink I got?” He headed for the front counter.
Company t-shirts hung from the wall. In bold font they read Sweat and Tears Gym. Colorful containers of protein powder, vitamins, creatine, amino acids and fish oils were stacked neatly on shelves that covered every inch of wall space behind the counter.
Dominic followed him. Ben pulled out two yellow packets from a box that sat under the counter. He pinched them between his fingers as he swung the packets back and forth to work the powder into one end.
“If you need to talk. I’m always here to listen.”
Ben raised his eyebrows and shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tore the packets open and emptied the contents into his bottle on the counter. “Things are going really, really, really great.”
A bell chimed above the front door as it opened. An arctic like blast hit both men. Snow fell onto the door mat as a gentleman in his sixties stepped through and quickly closed the frozen door behind himself.
He carried a yoga mat and wore a gray knitted stocking cap. A black eyepatch covered his right eye and a deep scar ran from under the patch to the middle of his cheek. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. His voice was rough as gravel as he spoke. “Hello, fellas. It’s a tidbit nipply out there.” He wiped the melting snow off his thick and amazingly well-groomed goatee.
Ben smiled at his gym patron and gave him a nod, “Hello, Duke. I didn’t think I’d see you here today. Please put out the cigarette.”
Duke’s good eye floated down to the burning white stick tucked between his lips. He acted as if he forgot it was there. “Gadzooks, how long has this cancer stick been there?” Duke inhaled deeply. The red tip burned bright. In a matter of seconds he had it down to the filter. He stepped back to the door, cracked it open, exhaled the large cloud of smoke and tossed the butt out into a snow drift. “There we are. I’m never one to be wasteful.”
Dominic rolled his eyes, “Why come to the gym everyday if you can’t stop smoking?”
“Deputy, I don’t trust a man if he doesn’t have a few vices, and at my age quitting is for losers.” Duke stepped from the door and over to the coat rack. “I come to the gym to burn calories in Lisa’s yoga class. If I don’t, I won’t feel like I earned my six pack of brew tonight. I can’t spend New Year’s Eve sober, can I?” Duke asked as he dusted off the last flakes of snow that had fallen onto his broad shoulders. He pulled off his heavy coat and hung it up. His body was trim and it looked like it belonged to a much younger man.
“I think you’ll be the only one in her class today,” Ben poured the powder into Dominic’s water bottle.
“That makes me teacher’s pet, I guess.” Duke noticed Dominic staring at his eyepatch. “Can I help you with something, officer?”
Dominic replaced the cap on his bottle and gave it a gentle shake. He stared out the gym’s front window unable to look at the man as he asked his question, “Why are you still wearing the eyepatch?”
Ben came to Duke’s rescue. “Come on, man.”
“Doctor Evens says your eye is totally fine. You only had to wear the patch for the first couple of weeks. It’s been a year since your accident.” Dominic fought his growing smile.
Duke raised his voice, “It wasn’t an accident.” He caught himself. Paused and allowed the anger to pass. “It was an attack.”
“Evans says you have 20-20 vision, and wearing that patch is just your way of begging for attention. What do you think?”
“Well, I’ll have to have a chat with the good Doctor about his patient confidentiality practices then, won’t I?” Duke pulled off his cap as he stepped closer to Dominic. Shoulder length salt and pepper hair escaped from its wool prison. The hair, goatee, eyepatch and scar made Duke look like he just stepped out of a Lucky Strike magazine advertisement from the 1970’s. Rugged and handsome.
Dominic narrowed his brow and kicked on his Super-Cop voice, “So, why are you still wearing that patch, Duke?”
“We’re just wondering, that’s all. It has been a year since you went on that hunting trip,” Ben said with a friendly smile, trying his best to de-escalate the situation.
Duke lowered his voice and bass resonated from his chest as he spoke, “Well boys, isn’t it obvious?”
Dominic pondered what he could possible mean. He looked to Ben for any clues.
“It clearly goes with my motif.” Duke nabbed a hairband out of his pocket. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me. I don’t want to be late for Mrs. Williams’ class.” Duke pulled his long hair out of his face and back into a bun. He secured the band and made sure the bun was tight enough to survive Lisa’s fierce yoga instruction. He walked away with all the confidence in the world.
“What. A. Kook.” Dominic took a swig from his bottle. The second the post workout drink hit his tongue he did a spit take. “This tastes like shit,” he said as he wiped the tainted water from his mouth.
“I know.” Ben gritted his teeth and choked down a sip. He coughed out the words, “I’m never gonna sell it all.”
Duke entered the locker room, stowed his clothes and boots. The other sixty-year-old man in the retro gear entered the locker room.
“Sheldon, you sexy old beast. How was your walk today?” Duke held out his hand and the two of them engaged in one of the manliest handshakes of all time.
“Excellent, sir, excellent. I see you’re here to work on your chakras and drink some snake oil.” Sheldon teased as he opened his locker and fished out his gym bag.
“That’s it, that’s it. You nailed it. Hey, how did that date go, with um, what was her name?” Duke asked, not letting the light ribbing faze him.
“Morgan. Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Sheldon placed his Walkman and headphones into his bag. “The date started well. Her face was a five, but her body was a solid ten. She laughed at my jokes. Sexual innuendos. Hand on my thigh. I felt like it’s locked up and in the bag.”
Duke nodded at Sheldon, “Nice.”
Sheldon continued, “I go to drown a urinal cake and when I got back a biker is taking a whisky shot out of her cleavage.”
“Damn.” Duke dropped his head.
“Turns out she was his old lady back in the day.” Sheldon pulled a fresh shirt from his bag.
“So that was that?”
Sheldon changed out his top. “I was in my going out clothes, so I figured I’d stick around. He ended up being pretty cool and we all headed back to her place.”
“Please tell me that’s the end of the story.”
“I wish I could, Duke.” Sheldon took a deep breath before he kept going. “Let me ask you something, really personal.”
“Nope.”
Sheldon was no longer listening, only telling. His mind had left the locker room. He was back at the date night, like a Vet telling a horrifying story about his time in Nam. “You ever choke a man? Sexually?”
Duke’s upper lip snarled, “Excuse me?”
“It got dark at the end. Real dark.” Sheldon looked drained. The memory was too much.
Silence.
Duke’s visible eye was opened as wide as it could go as was the one hidden under the patch. He could no longer bear the silence anymore and he said, “A man’s gotta find release. I guess.”
More silence.
Sheldon raised his head. His face was beaming.
“Oh, you, joking son-of-a-bitch. You got me good,” Duke said as he laughed out the awkward feeling that had crawled into his body.
Sheldon�
��s face went flat, “We did have a three way, but he choked me.”
Duke’s laugh was cut short. He paused and squinted at the man across from him.
“Oh, you got me again. Damn you’re good.”
Sheldon pointed to the faint bruises on his neck. “I mean it Duke. It was the best damn orgasm I’d ever had in my life.” Sheldon sported half a smile.
Duke swallowed hard and scratched at the hairs on his chin. He searched and searched for something to say. Finally he landed on, “Cool.”
Duke exited the locker room and headed for a room at the back of the gym. The lights were out, but he could hear the sound of worldly trance music creeping out from under the closed door. He turned the knob and flipped on the lights.
A beautiful woman with dirty blonde hair lay flat on her back with both hands pressed against her stomach. A stylish mat was her only comfort from the hardwood floor. She wore a skin-tight black outfit that showed off her perfect yogi body.
“I’m sorry, Lisa, am I early?” Duke paused and waited for her response before he closed the door behind himself.
Her voice was smooth and calm. She spoke without opening her eyes, “I didn’t think I was going to have anyone in class today.”
“No blizzard or holiday would keep me from perfecting my downward dog,” Duke said as he laid out his mat.
Lisa glided up to a sitting position. She looked like Dracula floating out of a crypt. When she got upright her lids popped open. The whites of her eyes were streaked with bright red blood vessels. Wet tracks led past her temples and the tears had pooled in her ears.
Duke blurted out, “I usually cry after the hard workout.”
Lisa huffed out a smile as she rubbed at her eyes and wiped away the tears. “Thank you.”
