by Harper W.
With his weight being thrown backwards with that harpoon of a punch, the boy fell on his back and Ron’s lungs inflated like a life jacket.
“Get off me!” Ron yelled while kicking the boy in his face. By now the first one was all set to jump on Ron, but Ron, was ready for both of them. He knew they worked like a team. “How did it feel, asshole?” Ron yelled as he returned the favour with a headbutt to the first one. With that headbutt, Ron turned back to the second one who was almost back on his feet now and jammed his elbow in his nose with all his strength.
Right then, Ron felt someone behind him and a sharp and cold sensation ran from one end to another on his back. The first one had his knife out and it had Ron’s blood on it.
“Fuck You!” Ron screamed as he punched him. The boy tried to hit him with a knife, but for Ron, knives were nothing more than a toy. He punched the boy in the face and grabbed his knife hand. “Give it to me.” he said and twisted his thumb in the opposite direction of his wrist. The boy dropped the knife in Ron’s other hand like a vending machine dropping candy.
Ron’s muscle memory kicked in and as he grabbed the knife he turned on his heels and slashed the boy’s throat in one swift motion. Throwing blood out all over the carpet and his chest, the boy fell down like a cut down tree. With a tremor in the room, Ron looked at the second boy who saw his brother going down into his own pool of blood. Frozen with shock, he tried to get up to fight Ron.
But Ron knew that he was already dead. “Here, go to your brother.” Ron said as he stabbed the knife right into his chest until its handle. Using his shoulder, Ron pulled the knife out and stabbed the boy several times all over this torso.
With the final stab, the second brother met the first one on the floor and in afterlife.
Holding the knife, Ron felt a sharp pain due to the cut on his back, “Fuck!” he screamed in pain before looking at the room.
The adrenaline started to wear off and Ron could see more clearly now. The blood was all over the room and the carpet was soaking red. For one final time, he looked at Luca, “Fuck you, motherfucker.” Ron said as he quickly left the suit.
Chapter 2 : The Boy Who Cried The Wold
“Hey Emi! Remember this window?” Alfeo asked his brother looking at the cabin window that was a little crooked from its edge. “Of course!” Emilio replied with a nostalgic smile, “you tried to climb it to get to the roof.” Both the brothers laughed remembering the old days, “Remember how I fell?” Alfeo asked.
— “Yeah! You were shitting your pants thinking Dad was going to kill you.” Emilio reminded his brother. “Yup!” Alfeo said looking at the window. Slowly, his smile faded away, “God rest his soul.” he said remembering his father.
“Well, what is for dinner?” Emilio asked trying to ignore his father’s memory, and Alfeo pointed him to a picnic basket that one of the men brought in from the car, “Whatever is inside that.” he said.
“Emilio looked at the basket, “Just like the old days, eh?” — “Oh you will be surprised.” Alfeo replied with a smile.
Emilio sat down in a chair with a bottle of whiskey in his hands. He put it on the table and pulled the glass towards him, “Its nice.” he smiled, “to take break from all the business and .. everything, and to come here. I like this place.” he said looking at the old wooden cabin.
Alfeo looked out of the window.
5 armed men had been positioned around the cabin that was situated in the middle of a forest. The two cars stood outside the main gate of the cabin and were shining in the moonlight.
“How much time has it been?” Alfeo turned to Emilio, “Since we were last here.” his memory was failing him.
“I dont know.” Emilio said pouring themselves some whiskey, “All my hair were black when we came here last time. Thats all I remember.” Both the brothers chuckled.
“You know,” Alfeo broke the warm silence and changing the topic, “its a turbulent time in our business.”
“Its always a turbulent time in our business.” Emilio had a quick reply, “As our old man used to say,” Emilio drank his whiskey, “times, are always hard! Its the men who go soft.” Alfeo felt as if his father was uttering those words, like he used to.
“For our old man.” Alfeo raised his glass, as he saw his brother already drinking his whiskey. “Dad!” Emilio raised a toast for their dead father. Both the brothers sipped their whiskey together after that.
Alfeo was a little uncomfortable, “But seriously. We have a real problem at our hands.” he said staring into his glass.
Emilio waited for him to elucidate — “The Russians.” Alfeo continued, “Are very eager to takeover our territory.”
“Hahahahaha!” Emilio almost spilled his whiskey, “those snow-white goons!” he said while continuing his laughter, “they can not takeover a small pizzeria even if you give them the fucking key and a gun.” — “You are underestimating them, brother.” Alfeo said, “they are very brutal with what they want.”
“Brutal?” Emilio put his glass down and poured himself some more, “Let me tell you who was brutal..” his glass was full to the brim, “Uncle Enzo! He.. was brutal.”
Alfeo looked at his brother who he knew really wanted to retell this story of their uncle. “Remember how many men he killed in Ethiopia with his bear hands?”
“Americans hated him.” Alfeo reminded him.
“Fuck them!” Emilio’s booze has started to show its colours, “thats what he would have said.” Alfeo could not help but chuckle as he nodded in agreement. Emilio finished his glass in one go, “Aah!” exclaimed with pleasure, “this is good whiskey.” and poured more. Alfeo just watched him with his first glass still in his hands.
“Brother,” Alfeo said, “I think its time we make some changes in the leadership.”
Emilio who was finishing another glass, looked at his brother, “Please! I know what you are talking about.”
A little surprised, Alfeo held his glass tighter. “You want me promote Luca. Don’t you?” Emilio said predicting Alfeo’s words and finishing his glass.
The surprise on his face suddenly evaporated, “Hahaha!” Alfeo chuckled, “No brother, I was not talking about Luca.”
Emilio tried to pour himself another drink, but his hands shook, spilling it all over the table. “Here, let me.” Alfeo helped him with the drink, “I was talking about myself.” he said handing the glass to Emilio.
Emilio’s eyes got fixed on Alfeo’s face as he looked straight into his eyes with a cold stare. — “Its time brother,” Alfeo said, “I should be the boss now.”
Alfeo’s intentions became clear to Emilio. He pushed his brother away, threw his glass on the floor and stood up, fuming with anger. “So this is why, you brought me here?”
Listening to the noise, Emilio’s personal guard Pat came in. A big buy with a big gun in his holster. “Everything okay boss?” he asked.
“My brother,” Emilio was drunk now, “wants to be the boss, Pat.” he said mocking Alfeo, “Look at him, would you..” he stumbled a little, “call him BOSS?”
Pat looked into Alfeo’s eyes who blinked gently as if sending out a signal. Pat walked closer to Emilio and held him. “Yes Mr Fersko.” Pat said, looking in Emilio’s eyes, “I will call him Boss.”
Emilio could feel Pat’s gun sticking into his belly. And as he looked at it, Pat pulled the trigger. “Aaaaahhh!” Emilio cried in pain as he was thrown back due to the pressure of the bullet. He crashed into the table and his favourite whiskey spilled all over him.
“You heard brother?” Alfeo said sitting in his chair, “He will call me Boss.” The rest of the armed men came inside. Looking at Emilio, they all looked at Pat who signalled them to relax, “Its done.” he said, “finish him.” moving to Alfeo’s side.
The men pulled out their guns and shot a squirming Emilio. The room went deaf with the gunshots until they all went empty.
“Good then,” Alfeo turned to Pat, “take care of it now, Pat.” Like an obedient stude
nt, Pat followed the order and pulled his gun at his men. One by one, he pierced their heads with a bullet each. “Now” Alfeo said standing up, “Do me.”
Like a rehearsed move, Pat held Alfeo’s arm and placed his gun barrel over it. With a loud bang, the bullet went right through Alfeo’s arm. “FUCK!” the old man cried.
“I am sorry Boss.” Pat said as Alfeo curled into a ball due to the pain. He was feeling guilty after shooting his new boss. But the new Boss turned back holding his own gun.
With a bullet, Pat was lying on the ground with the others.
“Alrighty then,” Alfeo said, holding his arm tightly, “time for some finishing touches.”
He walked to the picnic basket and opened it. From inside, he pulled out an AK47 and went out the door.
The empty cabin fell under the silent spell with the dead bodies still leaking blood.
Suddenly, a rainstorm of bullets barged into the cabin. With the AK47’s deafening sound, everything got destroyed. The windows, walls, furniture, everything was pierced by the time Alfeo stopped.
With a smoking rifle, Alfeo entered the cabin and placed the bodies away from each other with one hand. In the end, he went to his brother and looked at his face.
Tears ran into his eyes, “Emi!” he cried with love and pain of a thousand knives in his guts, “NOOOOO! My brother.” Alfeo held his brother’s dead body in his arms. He then took out his cellphone and called a number, “Luca!” he cried weeping, “The Russians..” his voice mixed with anger —
“The Russians killed your uncle!”
Chapter 3 : The Lottery
Several cars stopped outside the cabin in the woods. A guard got down and opened the door, as Alfeo got out. Dressed in black, like everyone else, he walked into the cabin first.
Alfeo dropped in the chair that was in the spot where his brother used to sit. Surrounded by his men, Alfeo stared into the ground. Jack, the guard who opened the car’s door and followed him like a shadow looked at the men, “Boss!” he asked for permission to speak. Alfeo looked at him with curious eyes, “What?” he asked.
Jack cleared his throat before speaking, “Shouldn’t we go home after the funeral?” Alfeo stared at him as Jack spoke hesitantly, “This place looks .. well.. a little risky.”
“Oh!” Alfeo said realising the gravity of the situation, “You mean we should be in a safe house?”
“Yes Boss.” Jack replied.
“Hmm. You mean the same kind of safe house.” Alfeo said remembering the incident in Springfield, “Where that asshole killed several of our men and my SON?” Alfeo screamed in anger.
Jack had no idea what to say and so he just stood there with his head hung in embarrassment.
“Fucking retard!” Alfeo said looking away.
Nobody decided to speak that moment and so Jack realized that it was time for him to do his job. He started telling his men to spread outside and form a perimeter. The men received their orders and started to walk out of the cabin.
Staring out of the window, Alfeo suddenly turned his head, “One Million Dollars!”
The amount was big enough to fix everybody’s feet in the floor of the cabin. All the men turned around to their boss who was looking at them already.
“I will give One Million Dollars to anybody who will kill Ron.” Alfeo declared, “Spread the word, throughout the gang and other families.” The men were still thinking about the amount.
“And if somebody brings that motherfucker alive to me,” Alfeo added, “I will make them rich beyond their wildest imagination.” The men felt as if there was a genie speaking to them. “One… One Million Dollars, Boss?” Jack confirmed with his shivering voice.
“Yes!” Alfeo asserted, “That is One, followed by six zeroes if you did not know.”
It was clear, somebody from the gang was about to be rich. Because they all had been talking about how Ron was a dead man. Nobody can survive after killing the Boss’ only son. And so, for them it was like a game of lottery. A big prize, that one of them was about to win. The men started looking into each other’s eyes, maybe trying to see the future. Who would be the luck one to kill Ron? For a moment, they all stood still inside the cabin. Alfeo noticed the enchantment.
“What the fuck are you fuckers waiting for?” Alfer screamed, bringing them out of their sweet dreams of riches.
“Sorry Boss.” Jack apologized on behalf of his men and ordered them with his eyes to get back to work. With a dream of riches, the men went out of the cabin.
Alone, Alfeo rested his chin on his hands and looked on the floor. He could see Emilio’s bloody corpse there.
Chapter 4 : The Italians Are Coming
The Garage was empty now as it used to get by the evening. A big Russian guy with tattoos all over his body, entered from the back door wearing greasy overalls. He opened the door of an old car parked inside and went through the dashboard. His hand found a small piece of paper and he walked to the phone in one corner. Looking at the paper, he picked up the phone and dialled a number.
— “Vlaadimir!” another tattooed man came into the garage with similar tattoos and and overalls, and Vladimir signalled him to be quite with his hand. The man stood like a trained dog as Vladidmir listened to the phone.
Somebody picked it up at the other end, “Listen,” Vladimir said in a thick and cold Russian accent, “its 4AB76H9”
“Got it.” the voice said from the other end of the phone in a similar Russian accent and the phone was disconnected. Vladimir then turned to the guy who was waiting for him, “What?” he asked.
“Somebody killed Luca and many other members of the Fersko Gang.” the guy informed Vladimir.
“Huh!” Vladimir got up and walked back into the back door, “Fucking Italians.” cursing the dead.
The guy stood there watching Vladimir go inside. After making sure that the big guy was gone, he took out a music player from his pocket and plugged the earphones in his ears. American Pop Music started busting out of those little earphones, and the guy sat down into a chair placing his leg on the bonnet of a car before him. From his side, he picked up a gossip magazine and began reading.
A shadow entered the garage quietly and stood behind the guy who was certainly deaf to his surroundings. The shadow moved around behind him checking for another soul in sight. Nothing caught his eyes.
The shadow’s hand went under his jacket behind his back and when it came back, there was a shotgun he was holding. Slowly, he aimed the shotgun at he hand of the oblivious Russian who was lost in his music and magazine. But something changed the shadow’s heart and he delivered a strong butt to the back of the poor clueless bastard’s head. He fell off his chair like a crash test dummy.
The shadow then looked at the back door and slowly walked inside with caution.
The guy laid on the floor with his senses off to an unknown land while some noises were heard from inside the backdoor.
“Who are you?” Vladimir yelled from back and in answer, a shotgun sound was heard. A small pool of blood starting to come out from the back of the poor unconscious guy’s head as Vladimir’s grunt was heard, “Aaarrgh!” he was clearly hurt, but still it sounded strong.
Some loud thumps, clanks and bangs were heard with two men grunting loudly. “I will kill you, motherfucker!” Vladimir yelled sounding confident as if he had somebody in his control. With a loud thud, an even louder thud was heard, like a heavy sack of potatoes falling over something. “Too soon, Asshole!” Ron’s voice yelled before the shotgun was heard again. — “Fuck You!” Vladimir screamed in pain. Another shotgun sound was heard.
It was far from over, as Vladimir yelled again, “You are dead, asshole!” followed by another shot and then two more after that.
Silence!
“Phew!” Ron could be heard catching his breath when Vladimir’s voice again shocked him to his core. “Uggghhh!” but these were no words.
“Wait motherfucker!” Ron screamed and then there were sounds of him reloading his s
hotgun. Patiently, he reloaded all 8 shells as Vladimir was heard grunting.
“Here!” Ron cried from inside, cocking his gun. After a brief moment of silence, 8 shotgun shells rocked the garage. “Fuck!” Ron said exasperated.
Tired, Ron walked out of the back door. He was grabbing his back that probably took some beating inside. Here, he looked at the guy he knocked out, still sleeping.
“Hey!” he cried, slapping him really hard, “Wake up Asshole!” a few slaps did the trick and the guy was back in the land of living. He noticed the blood coming from his head and the shotgun Ron was holding. It made him jump back in fright. — “Listen to me.” Ron said putting the shotgun below his chin, “Vladimir is dead!” the guy was about to shit his pants and Ron told him.
“Tell your gang that Alfeo Fersko..” Ron said with a menacing voice, “is coming after them. They will pay for killing his son and brother.”
To ensure that this guy understood what he said, Ron repeated himself again, “Tell them, Alfeo Fersko and all the italians are coming after your Russian Motherfuckers! And we.. will fucking kill you.” Ron finished himself delivering a punch across his face.
The guy was again unconscious.
Ron walked out of the garage.
Chapter 5 : The Big Bad Wolf
It was the same kind of night when Emilio’s blood covered the cabin floor. Alfeo was still sitting inside maybe remembering the same night, or something else. He had a really good poker face.
“Boss.” Jack came inside holding a picnic basket. One look at the basket, sent chills down Alfeo’s spine. “What is that?” he asked.
— “Dinner Boss!” Jack said holding the basket. Alfeo frantically yelled at Jack, “Put that damn thing away.”
Unable to understand what he did wrong, Jack simply put down the basket on the table and stepped back. “Get out!” Alfeo ordered.
