I looked at all of the faces in turn. Gripper looking dour and ready for immediate action as befitted his enforcer patch. Twenty looking mean and ready to kill. Sonar looking the least angry of them all, but still regarding me impassively, as if I were a bug waiting to be squashed. Gunner eyeballing me from the side of his face while he chewed on his unlit cigar. And then Dealer, fierce and intent, something wild in his eyes bespeaking something normal citizens should never see.
None of them said things I had come to expect as usual. It was as if they were judging me by my silence.
Dealer said, "The man is to die. You are to do it."
The immensity of my situation crashed into me like a freight train doing a hundred miles an hour. "Me?"
"The man has set a course to eliminate certain of us to facilitate the CIA's entry into Keystone and then further down into the city. All for money."
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
Dealer was in my face, his grizzled gray stubble a badge of integrity I couldn't deny. "If he completes his contract, many of us might be dead. After that, drugs will flow. People will die. A meth'd up addict might kill Angela. Might murder your wife for five bucks. Children will die, hooked on the poison fed into the community."
I knew it to be true – every agonizing detail. Drugs gave nothing but promise of pain.
Sonar said. "We can't allow that." He held up a folder. "Here are his targets and his plans to remove those who would resist new drugs into Keystone and beyond. Not just us, but Sheriff Jefferson, Deputy Davies, and several Bandidos. Included are plans to work with the Surenos." He dropped the folder onto the table.
Dealer was still in my face. "Will you allow that? Jimmy?"
I knew what he wanted then, in all the horror of a normal person confronting the jarring reality of the violent: he wanted me to kill Thomas.
Visions of my childhood, so simple, skittered through my mind. What had happened to my second grade teacher who had taken pity on me as a loner? What was her name? Mrs. Livingston? What had happened to the crush I had in sixth grade? What was the name of the girl who had been oblivious? Cheryl Watson? What was the name of the male driving agent who had ridden with me on my first driving test? I wasn't sure I had ever known. I just remember feeling good that I had passed.
Pitiful memories assaulted me.
I gritted my teeth. What would Kristy do? What would she expect me to do? I felt a jittering in my legs as nerves overtook me.
Dealer pulled back a little, giving me a clear view of Thomas Green.
I felt certain I would never forget his name. His eyes were glassy, bright, and his head shaking in little fearful negations.
Did the man have a family? Children? Any loved ones at all?
But he would bring death to innocents. He would pave the way for real criminals to take over. Would resisting him make me a criminal? Any of us? Are we criminals to fight crime, even if by unlawful means? I reached behind me and pulled my Beretta Nano. The smooth gun in my hand felt strange being held for a purpose I had hoped to never face. But I had never thought I would pull my gun in deliberate focus of taking someone's life who was not threatening my own. For a moment, the gun felt wrong in my hand. The entire situation, wrong.
Could I shoot everyone and free the good guy? Free the agent and be congratulated by President Obama and be a hero on TV? But that felt very wrong. Thomas Green had a plan to kill innocents. To kill those who would safeguard the public interest. Whose side am I on?
Gunner's grizzled face thrust towards me as his hand held down my gun arm. "Not with that. Put it away."
I complied, feeling relieved. Maybe I wasn't supposed to kill him after all.
He gripped my arm when it was done holstering my Beretta. A cold, steel weapon was slapped down into my hand: a revolver. "Use that. No ejected shell casings running around unaccounted for." His eyes held doubt. He took two steps backward to my side.
I knew he was covering me. I knew he was fast. I hefted the revolver. It felt full. I opened the cylinder and saw all the shiny brass rims and silver primers of a fully loaded cylinder.
I looked up at Thomas Green. He was shaking his head frantically. He began mumbling something behind the gag. I tried to make it out, to no avail. I realized I was standing there, open revolver in my hand.
The Iron Crows were watching.
I could shoot them all and free the agent. I could be a hero. No one defies the government. No one fights against the CIA. I would be lauded as the man who saved the government from failure.
I felt my heart beating, but it was measured and steady, if hard.
The bikers were quiet.
If I go the government route, I consign innocents to die. Lives will be shattered. Unless I murder. I breathed in and out, staring at the gun. What would Jesus do? Really? Would the Almighty approve of me killing? Or approve of me saving lives?
I thought of Kristy sleeping back home and became choked up. I thought of children exposed not just to child molesters the government purposely settled across from the school, but also endangered by drugs pushed on them from CIA sources.
My lip curled.
Gunner's leather belt creaked as he flexed.
I snapped the revolver shut and raised it in one smooth motion.
Eyes were all over me, crawling like searching worms.
With a reflexive pull of the trigger, I shot Thomas Green through his forehead.
EPILOGUE
My arm went limp, the gun dropping down to my side with my hand.
Twenty breathed, "Fuckin' A."
Dealer was all action. "Twenty, Gripper, get him up and to Morningside. Teeth out, fingers off and grind them. Burn his hair off."
Gunner gently took the revolver from my hand. "You did great, son." His soft words felt like a salve on a wound that might never heal.
I was busy staring at the blood that had shot forward and back from the bullet wound.
Dealer came into my face. "Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy! Are you with us?"
I brought my gun hand up to my face. I felt so very out of it. I mumbled something.
Dealer shook me. "You have one more job to do. Follow Twenty and Gripper in the van. You're going to help get rid of the body."
"Get rid?"
"There are two graves freshly dug at Morningside."
"Graves?" I felt that I sounded stupid; I was stunned.
"Best way to dispose of bodies. You're going to help dig. Tomorrow, a coffin will be placed over the body and it's done."
"All right." It sounded better than standing here in the cabin of death.
~ ~ ~
I helped dig a shallow trench at the bottom of a freshly dug grave at the cemetery. Thomas Green's plastic-wrapped body was laid to rest in the trench. We covered over the body and packed down the earth on top. The excess was added to the pile under the AstroTurf top.
I asked as we finished up, "Doesn't anyone watch the grounds?"
Twenty panted, exhausted from the exertion, "Sure, Billy Nickles. But he's drunk and passed out by this time."
I wanted to ask and felt little stopping me. "How many... bodies... are buried here?"
Twenty grinned that crazy-eyed smile of his. "This makes eleven."
A numbness like death settled over me.
Thank you for reading Learning Couple, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. All reviews are so very greatly appreciated.
If you liked this story, be sure to check out my other books! Laran Mithras can be found on GoodReads.
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Learning Couple Page 7
