by Joseph Rubas
After she had picked up a few items, she climbed back in the van and drove back toward home. She drove slowly and took the long way down Randall Road, which led out right behind her house on Oak Street. Approaching the back of her house, she saw that Adam has tacked a black blanket or something over the window to keep the sun out.
She pulled into the driveway and sat for a moment listening to an old Credence Clearwater Revival song.
Killing the engine, she looked at the tall white house before her, and felt happy contentment rise within her. When she was a girl in Blacksburg living in a rundown apartment with two poverty-stricken but loving parents she could never have pictured herself in such a beautiful home. She never thought that she’d be happily married to a good man after the denim-jacket wearing snakes she dated in high school.
The spark of her happiness flickered in the wind of Sarah’s death. Her beautiful life wasn’t so anymore, not with Sarah gone. It never would be again.
Anna choked back hot tears, her hands clasping the wheel so hard they looked bloodless. After a while, a bit of the constriction left her chest, and she got out and carried the groceries into the house.
She glanced out of the window, and saw that a storm was blowing in. Thick dark clouds covered the sun, and at once it looked more like evening.
Even before Jake came home from school at 3:00, Adam was up and taking a shower. It was rare to see him before dark. He was always so tired, reminding her of Jack.
Upstairs the shower cut off, and Anna could hear the sounds of him dressing.
Outside, the heavy rain had begun in earnest, droplets of water now stood on the windows.
Adam rushed down the stairs, humming something like “We’re in the Money.” He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans with holes in the knees and a red Aerosmith band tee shirt.
He was smiling when he entered the kitchen. “Hello, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Anna smiled as she began to cut a head of lettuce. “Hi Adam, how’s life treating you?”
Adam sighed, “Good I guess.” He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, and asked, “How long’s it supposed to rain like this?”
Anna gazed out of the window, and then back at Adam over her shoulder. “I guess it’ll be nasty like this until tomorrow.”
Adam was quiet.
A few moments later the front door swung open, and the sound of Jake’s footfalls entered the house. He was soaking wet. “Thanks for picking me up, mom,” he said, going to the freezer and getting an ice cream cone.
“It’s just rain, Jake, you’ll live.”
Ice cream in hand, Jake rushed off to his X-Box without another word.
Adam sat quietly, while outside the storm raged.
When Jack lumbered down the stairs at half past six, he looked even worse than before. His face was as white as paper and the bags under his eyes had turned an ugly black color. When Anna saw his reflection in the window over the sink, she nearly screamed.
“That bad?” Jack asked in a deep voice that didn’t sound like his own.
Anna turned around, and saw her husband plop into one of the chairs.
“I think I got the flu,” he said in that frightening voice.
“You should go back to bed Jack, you look like crap.”
Jack nodded, “I need sleep like Sid needed Nancy,” he said, and began to rise from the chair.
“I’ll bring you some chicken noodle soup,” she called after him.
“Like hell you will,” he replied. “My mother burnt me out on that shit when I was a kid.”
“She was a smart woman, Jack!”
Jack grunted. “Yeah, she was a real genius.”
With that, he disappeared up the stairs.
In her dream she was in bed, wide awake and staring at the ceiling and watching as headlights from the street washed across it. She was worried. About what she didn’t know. She was under the impression that it wasn’t about Jack or Jake, but…something that wasn’t right in the house, something unnatural, abnormal, wrong. That concern quickly progressed to fear, but when she tried to stand she found herself wracked with a body-wide pins-and-needles sensation. She let out a short, muted groan…
…and heard the bedroom door creak open, slowly, furtively. Her heart exploded in her chest, and terror overwhelmed her.
“Mommy!” Sarah piped, and the terror turned to indescribable horror. Sarah’s dead, Sarah’s dead, Sarah’s dead. This isn’t right! This isn’t right!
“I’m home, Mommy!” Sarah said, and suddenly Anna was free. She turned to face her daughter, and found a skeleton clad in faded, wispy rags, her gaping eye sockets squirming with tangled maggots and her teeth razor-pointed.
“Hi, Mommy!” it said, opening its arms for a cold embrace.
Anna screamed.
Anna sat awake the rest of the night in the living room, watching the television and trying not to think about the dream or about Sarah. She thought too much of her. It wasn’t healthy. In fact, it was downright morbid sometimes.
She couldn’t help it, though. Damn it, how do you not think about your lost child? How do you not feel the agony, the anguish, the guilt, the remorse?
You didn’t. Nothing on earth could ease that sort of pain. Nothing. You just dealt with it, and either overcame it or collapsed under it.
It seemed that dawn took forever to come. One boring infomercial after another crept by before the sky turned a sickly blue over the roofs across the street. She checked in on Jack, who was still feeling awful, and then woke Jake for school. She usually had no trouble from him, but this morning he was feeling a little under the weather.
Great, Anna thought, checking his forehead and finding it hot, two for the price of one.
He still wanted to go, however. Something about a special project they were doing. He was so excited; Anna couldn’t say no to him.
While he was getting ready, she went down into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on. While she was pouring herself a cup, the front door opened and Adam came in.
“Morning, Mrs. M, how’re you?” he chirruped.
“Fine. How’re you, Adam?”
“Never better!”
He looked it, too. In fact, he looked better than Ann could ever remember him looking. He wasn’t so gaunt anymore, and his color was…ruddy. Hmmm. Wonder what he did last night to perk himself up so much. Probably saw a woman.
“You certainly look good.”
“Thank you,” he said, taking a thermos from the ‘fridge, “I think I was feeling kinda sick here lately, but now…like I said, never better.”
“Jack’s really sick, and Jake’s getting there too.” She sighed.
Adam looked worried. “Like how?”
Anna shrugged. “Flu, I think.”
“Hell, I hope I didn’t give it to them.”
“I bet Jake brought it home from school.” She reached into a cabinet and brought out a bowl. She sat it on the table, and put a spoon beside it for Jake’s breakfast. “You know how germy schools are.”
“Yeah,” Adam said. “Well, I’m gonna go to bed. Really tired.”
“Okay,” Anna replied, opening the ‘fridge and taking a gallon of milk out. “Sleep well.”
“I will.”
Once Jake was on the bus, Anna lay down on the couch and dozed, a fitful rest, haunted by disturbing and foreboding images that couldn’t rightly be called dreams. On finally waking fully around noon, Anna couldn’t remember most of them. One she could was one that bothered her the most. Sarah’s room was back to the way it used to be before Adam moved in, and there was dirt on the bed.
The day turned rainy again around one. The school called at half-past for her to come and get Jake. He was too sick to finish the day. She ran out and picked him up, calling the doctor’s office and making an appointment en route.
Jake was in the nurse’s office when she got there, his face white and sweaty, his eyes blurry and unfocused.
“Are you okay, Jake?” she asked, flying to h
is side and kneeling down.
“Yeah,” he weakly replied, “just tired.”
“I’m taking you to Dr. Mainwaring.”
“Aww, mom, come on, I’m okay.”
She signed him out at the front desk and held his hand through the parking lot. Normally he would have squealed and recoiled had she done that, but today he squeezed her hand and shuffled his feet.
“How do you feel?” she worriedly asked as she pulled out of the parking lot.
“Like kaka.”
“Like…how? Queasy? Headachey?”
“Just…really icky. And tired.”
As the doctor examined Jake, Anna sat in a corner, consumed with worry bordering on near-hysteria. This didn’t look like the flu to her. What if it was something awful? She was fighting to breathe normally by the time Manwaring told Jake to put his shirt on, gave him a sucker, and told him to go back to the waiting room.
Sighing, he stiffly sank down onto his stool.
“What’s wrong with him?” Anna blurted.
Manwaring smiled. “Nothing major, just a touch of the flu.”
“The flu? Are you sure?”
“Oh, pretty much so. Plenty of fluids and bed rest. You know the drill.”
Not entirely convinced, Anna drove Jake back home, left him in bed, and ran out for groceries. Jack was awake and getting a cup of coffee when she came back. He looked awful.
She told him about Jake and taking him to the doctor.
“I could have told you that,” he said, “and for free. Stop worrying so much.”
“But…”
“Annie,” he said, hugging her, “Annie, Annie. It’s okay. You’re just overcautious because of Sarah.”
She stiffened in his arms. “Jack, that’s not…”
Was it?
She sighed. “Maybe a little.”
Jack smiled wanly. “What’s for dinner? I could eat a horse or two.”
“Chili and rice.”
Jack smiled again. “You’re too good to me, babe.”
That night another nightmare woke Anna around three. Again, she spent the rest of the night before the television. Jake was too sick to go in to school.
Adam didn’t come in his usual time, which for some reason worried Anna. It was dark and nasty out, the rain falling in droves and the weatherman on FOX saying it’d be like that most of the day.
She was at the sink for almost ten minutes, absorbed in her own thoughts, when suddenly hands were on her hips, and Jack was kissing her neck.
“Jack!” she cried, shocked, though inexplicable desire was rising in her stomach. “Stop! What if Jake…?”
His hands were moving up her stomach, were cupping her breasts, cupping her throat.
“Umm. Jack.”
He was nibbling her ear now, his throbbing penis poking her butt through both their jeans.
She felt her groin begin to moisten and her nipples became erect.
“Like it, don’t you?” asked Adam Carver.
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she turned. There stood Adam, his eyes wide and wild, seemingly yellow.
“Adam!” she screeched. “What are you doing?”
He smiled. “Nothing, Anna, just showing you how I feel about you.”
She opened her mouth, but could not form words.
“Truth is,” Adam went on, “I like you a lot.” He giggled, and it was then that Anna saw his teeth.
“That’s right,” he said. “I’d like to eat you all up.”
He lunged at Anna, but she ducked out of the way, and he slammed into the counter, knocking the drain tray over and spilling its contents onto the floor in a shattering shower.
“Bitch!” he cried as he spun on his heels. Anna, paralyzed with fear, stood as he as came forward, his fangs overhanging his lower lip. “C’mere,” he panted, but she broke and dashed into the living room.
“Jack!” she screamed as she fell back to the sitars, never taking her eyes off of Adam, who was now merrily strolling through the room like a serial killer in one of those nineties movies.
“Jack!” she screamed.
“What?” he asked from behind her, startling her. She turned, and Jack stood on the third to last step, his hand resting on the polished banister.
“Jack, help me! Adam…” she couldn’t finish her thought in words, so she pointed to the young man and shook her finger.
Jack’s face darkened as he looked at Adam. The younger man shrugged and smiled, his canine teeth large and sharp.
“You were going to rape her?” Jack asked sharply as he came down the stairs.
“What are you?” Anna managed to finally scream at Adam.
Adam stood defiantly where he was, grinning. “Nope, I was gonna drank her fucking blood, Jacko.”
From behind her Jack chuckled. “Not if I do first.”
Anna was wrenched back by her hair, screaming, and two points of fiery agony pierced her throat.
In a whirlwind of blind, mindless pain, Anna thrashed against Jack’s strong arms, which were wrapped around her waist. She screamed even louder when Adam approached, smiling. He grabbed her breasts and squeezed as hard as he could, before leaning in for his own taste of her blood.
She balled her fist and flailed weakly at her attackers, but the world was swiftly graying. She began to slacken, and would have fallen if not for vampires holding her.
The last thing she heard as she sank into the echoey chambers of death was Jake’s voice from the stairs. “Save me some, guys!”
81
A lot of people might call me a rat, and, when you get right down to it, I guess I am. The thing is, I didn’t squeal on my own. I loved the mob life. Hell, if I had my way, I’d still be in Ozone Park, busting heads and making book, you know? I only turned state’s because I had a price on my head. It was either that, or wind up stuffed in the trunk of an abandoned car on a street in Maspeth.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: Why was I marked? What did I do? The mafia doesn’t just kill people for no reason; though they have a bad reputation, they’d much rather focus on making money than blowing people away. Long story short, I was gonna be killed because I let the guys in my crew deal.
See, I was a capo in the Mortanno Family, which, put simply, made me equivalent to a manager at McDonalds. I had guys working under me, but I was just a middle man, you know? I had some control, yeah, obviously, and I “misused” it.
The mafia white-collars don’t put up with drug dealing. And it’s not because they’re “men of honor” or any nonsense like that. The reason is, dealing drugs can put a man away for a long time, and that sort of thing promotes ratting, see? Tattle on your buddies and avoid going to prison for fifty years. We blue-collar types still do it, but we have to be secret about it. When I was first promoted to capo in 1979, I toed the family line: Deal and die. That was the motto. Deal and die. But around 1984, I changed my tune. I mean, there’s a lot of money to be made in shit like coke and meth. Not doing it is stupid. You know?
Anyway, one of my guys got caught in ’91, and he ratted. Took a lot of guys down, me included. I was gonna do my time like a man, I was, but then the feds came to me one day and played a tape for me where Don Adolf and a couple of his guys were planning my murder. They were gonna use a stoolie, have him shank me in my cell.
That decided me. I gave these assholes thirty years of my life, made them millions, and they were gonna whack me out like nothing. Fuck ‘em. I turned state’s evidence, and Don Adolf went down, took all of his butt buddies with him. Thirty murder charges. They’ll never get out.
Now, it wasn’t easy. Don Adolf was a very hands-off kinda boss. They couldn’t stick anything to him.
Until I opened up about the ’81 War.
The ’81 War is one of those legendary underworld events, kinda like the St. Valentine’s Massacre. Of all the mob wars ever fought, ’81 was the bloodiest and highest profile. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Dozens of guys dead over the span of a few hours. I didn�
�t kill anyone, but I was there when...
You know, let me back up, give you a little history.
The Mortanno Family was founded by Vinnie Mortanno in 1931 after the Turks Uprising. That’s when a bunch of young, Americanized wiseguys overthrew the older, hardline traditional Sicilians.
Don Mortanno had three sons: Michael, Frank, and Johnny, all of them eventually joining up. Mike was the oldest, born in 1924. Second oldest was his daughter, Marie, in ’26.
In 1945, Marie met this guy named Josef Zimmer, a kraut, born in Brooklyn, and they fell in love. Don Mortanno wasn’t happy about it, but Marie was his little princess, you know, so he bit his lip. They got married in ’46, and Don Mortanno gave Zimmer a little numbers racket to run, but didn’t want him having too much to do with family business. Zimmer understood, and everyone was happy.
In 1954, Don Mortanno had a stroke and died. Michael was set to take over, but, as fate would have it, he wrecked on the causeway and wound up burning to death before they could pull him out.
The next in line was Frankie, but he was a drunk and no one trusted him, so they skipped him over and gave the spot to Johnny.
Around this time, Zimmer (Joey the Kraut, as he was called) started wanting to have more to do with the family. Johnny always kinda liked him, so he let him. Mainly, Joey was Johnny’s personal assistant, bodyguard, that sort of thing.
In 1960, a bunch of guys in the Gino Crew tried to take over the family. They sent a hitman to kill the new Don while he was Christmas shopping for his kids. Long story short, the guy shot Don Mortanno in the middle of fucking Woolworth’s. Joey the Kraut was with him, and chased the guy into the street and put a bullet in his head.
When the police showed up, they took Joey away and charged him with manslaughter and possession of an illegal weapon. Don Mortanno was taken to the hospital and recovered.
Joey the Kraut wound up doing three years; he was set to do a solid six, but Don Mortanno used his connections to get the time cut in half.
When Joey got out, Don Mortanno welcomed him as one of the family. Up until then, he really wasn’t, you know? One of the family, that is. But he proved himself, whacking the shooter out and keeping his mouth shut. Don Mortanno, thereafter, always referred to him as “My brother” and “A friend of mine,” meaning that family business, all family business, could be discussed around him.
