Among the Dead and Dreaming

by Samuel Ligon

  I told her how much I loved her earlier, when we was making love, told her all the time how much I loved her, did everything I could to prove my love.

  What I got in return was a knife in the back.

  But she’d had a change of heart and come to me in the fog—her, the one I loved—the two of us watching each other through halos of hate and whiskey and love like ropes around us. Here and then gone. The sting of coming awake. Her worried face looking down on me as I looked up at her as trusting as a newborn baby.

  Everything passed between us then, this love we shared, and then the halos had me by the throat, my hand dripping blood down my wrist, leaking from a wound she was ministering to. A halo around my finger. I forgave her everything as she bandaged me up. I knew she finally understood how much I loved her. Even in spite of all my fuck ups, my jealousy and whatnot, me forcing myself on her or whatever it was, I knew how much she loved me, too—how deep our love was for one another, binding us together for here and eternity, me and Nikki, the only one I would ever love.

  Burke

  It takes everything I’ve got not to blow a hole in her standing there by her closet door. She’s older, sure, but still nice looking. Maybe not as nice as Cinnamon, but she shows me her lean belly over her panties over her long smooth legs as she pulls that dress over her head like a whore and pretends she didn’t hear me coming—doing everything she can to hold me with herself, changing her clothes and showing all that skin, trying to tease me and take me out of my right mind with her whorish way, everything my brother had and should have kept having all them years since the bitch murdered him. And me fighting to keep my head and get what I came for.

  When I tell her to go on and pull the dress back over her head to show me what’s mine, she acts like she don’t hear me. Or that she’s the one in charge.

  “Where’s Alina. Where’s Alina.” Like a goddamn parrot.

  “I told you to take that dress off.”

  “Where’s Alina?”

  I walk toward her slow and gentle, then move quick and pop her in the jaw.

  “Alina’s fine,” I tell her.

  I can see how hard she’s holding herself, wanting to spring like a cat. Not even touching the spot I popped her, already red and rising.

  “Take off your dress,” I tell her. “And show me my money.”

  “Where’s Alina?” Anchored to her spot on the floor. But trembling.

  “You’re shaking, ain’t you, Nikki?” I say. “I bet Cash never shook like that.”

  Looking me in the eye like we’re in a staring contest.

  “You think I’m going to hurt my own blood?”

  Stone faced and rooted to the floor. But that electricity running through her.

  “Where’s—”

  “My own daughter?”

  I jerk my hand and she flinches.

  “I told you she’s fine.”

  Like a statue shaking, staring at me with all that hate.

  “Take off your dress, Nikki. Show me what Cash died for. What Kyle died for.”

  That gets her a little—Kyle—her lips twitching, but trying to hide it.

  “Alina told me about Kyle. I don’t think Cash would appreciate that. Do you, Nikki? You fucking old Kyle after killing my brother.”

  “I need to see Alina,” she says. “Then the money.”

  I hang my head for a second, then slap her in the same spot I popped her before.

  She holds herself from fighting back.

  I slap her again, but she puts her arms up to cover her face.

  I punch her hard in the belly, and she doubles over, her arms around her middle.

  I slap her again.

  Grab a fistful of hair down by the scalp and pull her up by it. Smack her mouth with my mother’s gun. Whap! And get my voice close to her ear, still holding her by her hair. “You do what I say, Nikki, and you’ll see Alina. You don’t do what I say, and I’ll kill you and take her.”

  I jerk her by the ball of hair in my fist and dump her to the floor. Crouch over her with my knee on her neck.

  “I never wanted it to be like this,” I tell her.

  Her breathing on the floor under my knee.

  “You brought this on yourself.”

  I reach down her body for the bottom of her dress and she starts to wriggle. I put more weight into her neck. Punch her ribs. Hard. “You can take it off or I can take it off,” I tell her. I put the gun against her cheek, pushing it into the mess of blood that’s running there. “You wanna see Alina?”

  She nods, spits out blood.

  “You can see her if you want to. It’s all up to you.”

  More nodding, but looking straight ahead, under the bed.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good. I’m going to lift myself up real gentle. But I don’t want you to move. Okay, Nikki? Then when I tell you, I want you to stand up and take off your dress. Then I want you to show me my money. Okay, Nikki? And once we’re clear on that, we’ll go get Alina and go out for a reunion dinner. And then maybe you and me can pick up where we left off all them years ago, before everything turned to shit. Maybe rediscover our love. Does that sound good, Nikki?”

  I raise myself slow with the gun on her.

  She doesn’t move.

  “You can get up now,” I say. “I’m sorry I had to hit you, but you have to learn. Go on and pull that dress over your head.”

  She watches me as she lifts the dress over herself, never taking her eyes from my face.

  “I know Cash could be a handful,” I say. “I do know that. But you can too, can’t you, Nikki. Why don’t you turn around and show me yourself.”

  She turns, but her face is fucked up, half ruined by what she made me do to her. Her ass is good, though, filling her panties, her back smooth and strong. I’ve got half a mind to take her now, but then realize that’s what she wants, the whore, so she can get me in a compromising position and kill me like she killed Cash.

  I have to calm myself and keep focused.

  Make myself an instrument of the hand.

  Her face is all fucked up anyway. Blood smeared. A couple of wobbly front teeth she can’t stop running her tongue over.

  Hardly worth a man’s life now.

  “Now you’re going to show me the money, Nikki. And then we’re gonna get Alina. Doesn’t that sound good?”

  “It’s downstairs,” she says. Talking like a zombie.

  “Why don’t you lead me to it.”

  She starts for the door and I follow.

  “Stop for just a minute and turn around,” I tell her.

  She turns.

  “I’m going to keep this gun on your back, Nikki. If I shoot you—if I kill you, like you killed Cash—you’ll never see Alina again. And while that might be fine with me, would have been fine with me, now we have Alina to consider. A girl needs her mama, Nikki.”

  She stands in front of me, blood running down her neck, speckling her bra. Blood smeared all over her fucked up face.

  I heft one of her tits in my hand. Drop it and take the other. Her looking past me. Holding herself tight. Shaking a little. All mine.

  And if she makes one move toward me, I’ll blow a hole in her.

  Her sensing that.

  Knowing I want to kill her.

  Hoping the hand lets me.

  Hoping it keeps her alive for years of payoff.

  Payoff and everything growing between us.

  Everything she denied Cash. Denied me.

  Killing her later. After the payoff.

  Trying to make myself an instrument. To surrender to the hand.

  “You can take me to the money now,” I tell her.

  She turns and I follow.

  “Why don’t you just pull
down your panties and show me your ass, Nikki,” I say, knowing I can test myself like this, take one look and then get the business done. Prime myself for what will follow, tying her down like she tied Cash and taking something worth more than a finger.

  She stands like a statue, then rolls down her panties in front of me, her ass sticking out like a whore’s.

  “That’s good, Nikki,” I say. “Now let’s get my money.”

  Trying to hold myself as tight as she is.

  Nikki

  I should have hid the money. I should have kept the money hidden until I had Alina safe with me. My only card sitting out on the kitchen table, not that it’s enough. Light pouring through the windows all over it. He doesn’t know he can’t hurt me though. My other card. He doesn’t know he can’t do anything to me. Except through her.

  I walk down the stairs in front of him, my eyes on the potted plant and the kitchen knife. But she could be tied up in a hole somewhere. She could starve to death, tied up in a hole somewhere if I kill him.

  My face and head throbbing where he hit me. My broken teeth.

  Blood tickling my chest far away under this throbbing of my face, my mouth.

  My ass hanging out of my underwear as I walk and him never shutting up. All these words from him. All this noise.

  I don’t have a single card to play.

  Except that he can’t hurt me.

  I’ll kill two brothers, some cunt mother’s sons, but maybe she has others.

  I’ll kill them too.

  I stop in the middle of the living room.

  “Whoa,” he says. “What are we stopping for?”

  But not until I know where Alina is.

  Grabbing my bare ass and pushing the gun into my back.

  “Where’s it at?”

  “All this blood,” I say, smearing my hands and holding them up so he can see.

  Waiting for Mark. Because if the money’s not enough, he’ll kill me and take Alina. If she’s—

  But if he sees Mark. If he kills Mark and then me. . . .

  “I think I’m going to pass out.”

  Not sure I said it.

  “Not now you ain’t.”

  He pushes the gun into my back again.

  But I can’t kill him now.

  “Get me my money.”

  My hatred a tiny walnut in my chest compressed and contained.

  “Aspirin,” I say, walking toward the bathroom. “Let me just clean myself up.”

  “Not until you get my money you ain’t.”

  The gun cracks against my skull.

  I fall to the living room floor.

  Any delay is good.

  Mark will be here with the money, but that’s—

  He grabs me by my hair again, pulling me up.

  I unlock my knees, hanging limp by my hair, the sound of it tearing from my scalp.

  Bend and be strong.

  He lets go and I drop.

  I grunt for him.

  He can’t hurt me through my body.

  The money out on the kitchen table. In broad daylight.

  Why he’ll never find it.

  But not enough.

  “I’ll drag you by your fucking hair,” he says, grabbing and pulling.

  And then I think I will pass out.

  “No,” I say, grabbing at his wrists.

  A kind of lightning through my body and eyes as he drops me.

  “I’ll show you,” I say, sitting up.

  Because I can’t pass out.

  He’ll take it and kill me and take Alina and kill her.

  If she’s alive.

  I run my hand over the soft spots of my skull. Through the blood on my face. “You know I always loved you,” I say. “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry!” Crying. “It was an accident! I love you.”

  “Just shut up,” he says. “We can talk about that later. After you show me my money.”

  I reach back and unclip my bra.

  “Oh, no,” he says. “It ain’t gonna be like that. Not until I see my money.”

  “The bathroom’s right there,” I say, dropping my bra to the floor at his feet, and not looking at him.

  “Can’t I just get cleaned up and take some aspirin? I can’t see through this blood.”

  “Well—”

  “I know I was wrong!” I say. “I think about him every day. About you!”

  I reach for his leg, not touching it.

  I feel his eyes on me. The gun on me.

  “I don’t want to look like this for you. I don’t want to pass out.”

  He reaches down and takes my breast in his hand, and I put my hand over his, pushing it against me.

  His lover. His fucking mother.

  I’ll kill her too. For bringing him to life. For bringing both of them to life.

  And all the others.

  “Please?” I say. “Baby? It’ll just take a second.”

  “You think I want to hurt you? Is that what you think?”

  “I know you want what’s best for me. For Alina.”

  “You couldn’t even give her my name?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, bringing my other hand to my face to wipe the tears away. “I know I was wrong. You don’t know how much I’ve hurt for him. For you.”

  Snot mixing with tears and blood as he keeps palming my tit.

  “Please forgive me,” I say. “That’s all I want. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything if you’ll forgive me.”

  “You’re just a whore,” he says, and I say, “I want us to be together. You and me and Alina.”

  He takes me by the hair again, and I lift myself under his pulling hand, the gun jamming against what must be a broken rib, sending flashes of light across my vision.

  “Get cleaned up, Nikki,” he says. “But we ain’t making love till you show me my money.”

  “Okay,” I say, trying to see through the lightning. “Whatever you want, Daddy.”

  “Killer. Liar. Whore,” he says. “Don’t think I’ll forget.”

  “But if you could teach me—”

  “Shut up.”

  He slaps me, but I don’t fall to the floor this time, hanging my head instead, meek, beaten. His beaten little doll. Stronger every time he hits me.

  Not knowing what I’m supposed to do. Because if the money’s not enough and he kills me, and then Alina will—

  “Clean your face,” he says, pushing me toward the bathroom. “Take your pills.”

  I run water in the sink, him in the mirror behind my back over my bloody face, pushing himself against me. I need to stop time here.

  “Maybe you can learn,” he says. “Maybe be forgiven.”

  I need time to stop.

  “It ain’t up to me, though. It’s all the hand.”

  “But she’s okay, right?”

  “Goddammit,” he says grabbing my hair again. “Why you always got to talk about her?”

  “I—”

  “You never loved me.”

  “No. I do. I love you!”

  He yanks me by the hair and turns me, pushing me out of the bathroom, the gun against my back.

  “Get me my money right now,” he says. “It’s not even up to me. None of it is. You brought this on yourself. Just do it. Or I swear to god I will kill you here and now.”

  And I believe him and won’t be able to do a thing, won’t be able to find her if he kills me, and I say, “The kitchen,” leading him there by my hair in his hand. “But Alina—”

  “Shut up about Alina, you goddamn—always bringing her between us. She’s already dead! Okay? Just like Cash. Just like you. I told you that! My own fucking blood. Everything you’ve done. She’s dead!”

  I can hardly
see through the blood and lightning and knowing what I knew all along, Alina, but no, Alina, but no, knowing what I knew but not knowing and knowing what I knew, Alina. I hear a thump and him falling and Mark’s there with a gun and a hammer as I spin around, Burke on the floor, holding his head and thrashing. I reach for Mark’s gun, for Mark’s arm holding the gun, directing it at the fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking, saying through my broken mouth, in my head, through my whole body, “Shoot him. Kill him! Give me that. Kill him. Let me have it,” Mark getting an arm around me and pulling me in, the gun still pointing at Burke on the floor, Mark trying to contain me, saying, “No. Nikki. Stop. I’ve got it. Just stop. I’ve got it. Stop.”

  But I cannot stop.

  Alina.

  Fuck.

  Alina.

  Fuck

  Noises coming out of me as I thrash for the gun. Because there’s no reason not to kill him now, all of it erupting out of me, Mark screaming in my ear around the noises coming from inside as he keeps trying to pull me in: “No, Nikki. Stop. Stop!”

  But I will never be able to stop.

  Mark

  I see them in the living room through the screen door, him with a gun on her pushing her toward the bathroom. Blood runs down her beat up face and over her breasts, the left side of her face like raw meat, bruised and bloody and swollen. He pushes her toward the bathroom, telling her to take her pills, and I run around the side of the house under the bathroom window—him above me telling her she can maybe be forgiven—to the back door, closing it silently as I ease into the house, shaking and trying to get up my nerve, knowing I can kill him after what I’ve seen. But still shaking.

  I hide myself against the kitchen wall by the entrance to the living room.

  A slamming from the bathroom.

  I look at the gun in my hand shaking.

  The safety’s still on.

  I push it off, the red dot showing.