The World in Reverse

by Latrivia Nelson

  “According to your father, we do,” Gabriel answered. He hid his downright disdain for the attack on a policeman and his family for fear that it might just push Anatoly to do the wrong thing. “No one knows your father’s mind like you do. He obviously has plans for the man. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be helping him in the first place.”

  Anatoly rolled his eyes. As usual, Gabriel had a point. Putting the phone back to his ear and pushing unmute, he gave his answer. “Stop them,” he said, looking up into his cousin’s pensive stare.

  “Then what, boss? He doesn’t know that we’re even here,” Marat said, nodding at Nestor.

  “Well, I guess that he’ll know after, won’t he?” Anatoly responded sarcastically. With a huff, he turned from Gabriel who watched his every move and shook his head. “Fine, bring them here and put them in the guest wing. We’ll figure out what to do with them once you arrive. For now just fucking handle it, da. You’re ruining my evening.”

  “Yes, boss,” Marat answered.

  “There, are you happy?” Anatoly asked Gabriel as he hung up the phone.

  “Very.” Gabriel opened the door for his cousin to enter back into the dining hall. “You should be happy. It’s not often that you get to save lives with a phone call. Most often you’re ending them.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Anatoly asked completely missing Gabriel’s point. Agosto was a cop and not just any cop - the biggest thorn in his side on the Memphis Police Department.

  “Nothing,” Gabriel chuckled. “My point is that you’re doing the right thing for once.” He patted him on the back.

  “Glad to know that I have your approval,” Anatoly said, sucking his teeth.

  ***

  The night’s air was still and silent on the quiet street of Peabody. Luxury homes were illuminated with landscape lighting, protected by complex security systems, high gates and fences and prowling, vicious dogs. The ornate streetlights lit up the rows of foreign cars parked up and down the sidewalk behind the many rows of oak and magnolia trees. In all, it was a picturesque view of a upper-middle income southern community ill prepared for what was about to happen.

  Sammy and his men were packed in their van like sardines, ready to unleash hell on the Agosto family right in the comfort of their plantation-style home. His orders while grotesquely savage were simple. Kill the entire family. Sammy found it even more disgusting that Cane knew that Ivy Agosto was pregnant and still chose to hit her. They had all listened to the conversations between her and her husband, heard the audio of them making love and fighting, cringed at the wild children running about and playing, snickered at the remarks. In essence, they had gotten to know this family, just to kill them better.

  “Boss, I can kill the cop. No problem, but I don’t know how I feel about popping four kids,” one of the men in the back said, cocking his gun.

  “There are six of them. There are six of us. I don’t care how we do it. Just do it,” Sammy ordered. “Or the next family to be killed could be your own.”

  The men stiffened at the threat.

  “I’ll do it,” one of the other men in the back said, wiping his running nose. “The way I see it, a kid is just an adult in training.” His green eyes were ice cold.

  Sammy tried not to cut his eyes at the man. After all, only a true sociopath should get into their line of work. “Sounds like we have a fucking volunteer then.” Looking at his watch, he swallowed down his disdain and thought of his own two children. When it came down to it was either Agosto’s family or his own. “Are we clear on what we’re doing? I don’t want any fuck ups. If this doesn’t go down, you might as well just put a bullet in your own head.”

  The men answered in unison.

  Still, Sammy went over the details again. He’d rather be safe than sorry. “The back of the house is fortified by the fence, the lights and the damn dog. So, we go through the front door. It’s going to be risky, but even if he has a weapon, he won’t be able to get to us all. Three go upstairs, three down. Check every room, kill everyone on sight. I don't care if it takes five bullets a piece to put these people down, Cane wants one bullet in the back of each head. Once the job is done, drop the cocktails, burn the bitch down and get out. We have exactly ten minutes to do it all.” He turned and looked at the men. “Are we clear?”

  The men nodded again.

  Turning back around, Sammy opened his passenger door. The other men quickly followed. With black ski masks on and guns pointed, they came up the drive quickly, moving across the lawn in a two-by-two flank formation. As soon as they got to mid-point on the plush lawn, the security lights came on. Without pause, they continued advancing towards the house, anticipating every possible move that Agosto could make.

  Marat got out of the Land Rover undetected by the crew right down the street and made his way to the back of the truck. While Cane’s men were armed with sawed off shotguns, a new order of AA-12 fully automatic shot guns had just arrived and Dmitry had stocked each car with several for his “runs” around the region. Spitting out 300 round per minute with a range of up to 575 feet, he was certain that when he did fire his stainless steel new-age tommy gun, everyone on the street would know it. Grabbing one for himself with a full magazine and one for Nestor, he closed the trunk quietly.

  Nestor threw his cigarette out of the passenger window and scooted across to the driver’s seat. Letting down the window, he pulled the large weapon inside from Marat and laid it across his lap.

  Quickly Marat, put his black boot on the foot rail of the truck, slung the strap of the gun over his wide shoulder and slipped his tattooed hand inside the handrail to ride the side of the truck up to the front of the house.

  ***

  Nicola had a bad feeling after the call from Moss. It wouldn’t be likely that Johnson and Steele had found out anymore than he already knew in such a short time. Whoever was cleaning house, wouldn’t just stop at them. He gathered the most important things, social security cards, birth certificates, credit cards, identification, etc. and threw them in a bag. Slipping on his gym shoes, he screamed out of the bedroom door to Ivy.

  “Baby, just get some clothes on them,” he said, hair suddenly standing on his arms.

  “Don’t I need to get them some clothes and toothbrushes,” Ivy screamed back from the oldest twins’ room.”

  “No,” Nicola said, looking at his watch. “We’re leaving this house in five minutes. We can buy what we need.”

  Urgency boiled in his veins with each and every passing minute.

  Hearing the strain in his voice, Ivy hurried. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she pushed back tears and fear to focus. Bending down to put on Adamo’s shoes, she realized that he didn’t have on socks.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, sensing her worry.

  Running a hand through his curly hair, she tried to smile. “We’re going to see grandma and grandpa. You love it there. Don’t you?”

  “But it’s late,” he said, wiping his tired eyes. I want to go to sleep, mama.” He looked up at her with a pouty mouth that made her feel guilty.

  Ivy finished tying his shoes and stood up. Feeling dizzy, she braced herself on the nightstand. “You can sleep in the car, baby. I promise.”

  Turning around, she saw Nicola at the door with the two smallest boys in his arms. “Let’s go,” he said more of an urging than an order.

  With protest, she grabbed her boys by the hands and hurried out of the room. They walked quickly down the long hall. More silent than they’d ever been both she and Nicola contemplated what their next move would be.

  “I need my purse,” she said as they passed the master bedroom. She looked into the inviting warmth of the tranquil room and suddenly felt like she’d never see it again.

  “I’ll grab it,” Nicola said, walking into the room with the kids. “Where is it?” He looked around quickly.

  “On the doorknob of the bathroom.”

  Walking to the bathroom door, he grabbed the purse and headed back o
ut. “Got it. Let’s go.” This time his voice was more of an order.

  As soon as they headed down the long stairwell together with Ivy and the boys leading, a large boom came from downstairs startling everyone. The wooden front door flew off the hinges and two men came quickly inside with shotguns. Both sets of twins and Ivy screamed, falling back onto the stairs.

  Quickly Nicola snatched them up the stairs. Pulling behind them to shield them, he heard guns shots ring out right by their head. Blowing a hole into the wall beside his head and knocking down a large painting, he threw everyone on the floor.

  Covering their heads, he pushed them back up into the hallway. Grabbing Ivy’s face as she screamed frantically, he looked her in the eyes. “Get them to the back bedroom!” Pulling a gun from the back of his jeans, he gave it to her. “Get in the corner of the room and turn the lights off. Shoot anyone who comes through the door.”

  “Nicky!” she screamed. Shaking, she took the gun.

  “Go!” he said, pulling the other gun from under his arm. “Go now!” he pushed her.

  As soon as he saw Ivy and the children crawling out of the path of the mad gunfire, he dove over into the doorway of the master bedroom where he could get a clear view of the stairwell. He counted at least four.

  Returning fire with his large Desert Eagle, he pointed at the man coming up the stairs and pulled the trigger. The bullet went straight through his head and exited out the back. Blood splattered against the wall and stairs and the man fell backwards down the stairs. But another was right behind him, shooting directly at Nicola.

  Shards of wood and drywall exploded as the man unloaded towards Nicola, trying with all his might to kill him quickly. Diving back behind the doorway out of the path of the bullets, Nicola looked down the hallway at Ivy and the kids as they went into the back bedroom and closed the door.

  He knew one thing and one thing only. He could not under any circumstances let anyone up the stairs.

  The sound of the bullets impacting into the walls from every direction was deafening. Taking another glance out, he lowered his body and shot again, this time, hitting the man behind the one that he had just killed in the leg. The man fell but returned fire again, this time sending a bullet that barely missed Nicola by only centimeters.

  Hiding behind the mangled wall for a second, he took a breath and then stuck his body halfway out of the room to send another round into the man’s chest as he tried to stand.

  Suddenly, a large glass bottle with a dirty rag was launched from downstairs up to the door, exploding with fire. It quickly fed on the paint, burning the walls and entryway.

  Nicola dove out of the door and into the path of fire toward the other side of the hallway to keep a view of the stairwell. Returning another couple of shots, he felt the heat of the flames as they grew.

  Another man determined to fix the mistake of his departed, advanced up the stairs past the dead bodies shooting as cover, but Nicola stood up with the bullets whizzing past him only half covered by the balcony low wall and made one good shot that sent the man diving back down the stairs to safety.

  Panic started to rip through Nicola at the thought of running out of bullets before every man in there was dead. In his head, he counted his shots. He had to protect his family. He was the only thing that stood between them and death.

  Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Heart pumping, mouth dry, he crouched back down behind the balcony wall as bullets and fire surrounded him in death.

  “Please God,” Nicola said aloud, praying as he returned fire again. “Help me.” All he could think of was the five people hidden down the hall who were depending on him. Nothing else mattered.

  Boris pulled up quickly to the front door in the BMW, shredding the immaculate lawn under the tread of his tires. With his hand on the trigger of his weapon, he popped out of the car, leaving the door open. It sounded like a full-on war inside, just his type of party. Gunfire rang out in rapid bursts from at least three different directions. He could also hear Nicola returning fire from the top of the stairwell on the second floor with an distinctively loud cannon of a weapon. He guessed it to be a Desert Eagle.

  All the men were now inside and completely oblivious to the fact that Nicola had re-enforcements. Without bothering to look behind them, they fired up the stairwell at Nicola as black smoke started to billow out of the front door and filled the house. It gave Boris perfect cover and distracted the men inside.

  Making sure not to get in full view of the open door, he quickly mapped out their locations inside of the house. One was in the living room, using the door entry as cover. One was in the dining room doing the same. Each was on opposite sides of the foyer. In between shooting, they also launched more handmade firebombs up the stairs. It was only a matter of time before the smoke and fire consumed the upstairs and his goal of getting Agosto out safely. He had to move quickly.

  When he was certain that he wouldn’t get Agosto or his family in the crosshairs, Boris stepped back a few feet from the porch light, cocked his weapon and unloaded without prejudice. Before he could drop one magazine on the ground and slide in another, Marat was already beside him, shooting at the house.

  The quiet night had suddenly been interrupted. From a far neighbors, afraid for their lives watched on from their windows while they waited for the police as Marat and Boris emptied round after explosive round into the house.

  The bullets were so powerful until they knocked off chunks of brick from the exterior of the house, went through windows and pierced straight through several walls, furniture, and paintings inside of the house all while lighting up the night’s sky.

  Shells hit the ground by their feet as they advanced.

  Both Marat and Boris had extensive experience in professional hits. In synchronization with their powerful weapons, they strategically covered every inch of the front of the house. Large bullet holes covered the entire first floor. Glass shards hung from the busted windows. The piano in the parlor leaned over on the floor missing two legs. The furniture was blown to bits. Glass vases with flowers lay cracked on the rugs, family photos were destroyed and the distinctive smell of gas came from the kitchen.

  And among all the rubble as they advanced inside of the house flanking each other and clearing the area, they found the two men riddled with bullets.

  Laying in bloody pools full of bullet holes, Cane’s men never knew what hit them. Marat stepped over one of them, kicking away his guns as he examined the body. The boss didn’t like leaving witnesses. Stepping back to prevent getting splatter on his clothes, he shot the dead man in the head again, just to make sure.

  “That was easy,” he said, nodding across the foyer at Boris. He didn’t see why it took three of them to kill two amateur hitters. And it looked like from the bodies lining the staircase that Agosto was capable of handling himself.

  “Da, that’s the thing about these Southern American boys,” Marat said, walking into the room with him after he had done the same thing to the man on the other side of the house. “They’re all soft…like…girls,” he chuckled as he looked at the mess that Boris had made.

  While Boris and Marat were securing the front of the house, Nestor had driven the Land Rover straight through the back gate and pulled up to the back of the house. Getting out of the truck, he was met by a huge dog barking and trying to bite him.

  He pointed the gun but thought twice. He was a serious dog lover and if his boss, Anatoly, found out that he had shot a dog in the midst of the battle, he might just shoot him. He would have done better to accidently shoot one of the people he was in charge of saving.

  Shooting over the dog’s head, he scared him off, shot the doorknob off the back of the house and entered carefully. The thick fog smelled of smoke greeted him. Bullets from Dmitry’s powerful guns had found their way all the way to the mudroom and blew out some of the windows in the sunroom.

  As he turned the corner to check the bathroom, he found Sammy inside the shower taking cover.
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br />   “Don’t fucking move,” Nestor said with a grin. He motioned for his new captor to step towards him. “Slow,” he ordered in a low voice. “Who is with you?”

  “No one,” Sammy said, more frustrated than afraid. He raised his hands and dropped his gun, knowing that he was completely outnumbered.

  “If you’re lying to me, I’ll make your death very painful,” Nestor promised.

  “I’m not lying. No one is with me,” Sammy repeated.

  Boris and Marat continued checking each room in the back and came to the restroom where Nestor was holding Sammy.

  “We’ve got to get to the cop and get him out of here now,” Marat said, hitting his watch. “I’m surprised the pigs aren’t already here, considering he’s one of their own.”

  Pushing Sammy in front of them, they headed back toward the stairwell. Nicola had already gone to get his family. Running as fast as he could, he screamed for Ivy. “Baby,” he said, hearing his children crying.

  “In here!” Ivy screamed back. Her heart lifted when she heard her husband’s voice. Wiping tears, she stood up out of the corner.

  As he opened the door, Ivy put down the gun and ran towards him. Never before had she seen a better sight. Hugging him tightly, she cried. “Are we safe?” she asked, reaching for her children.

  Nicola picked up his youngest two boys and Ivy held Adamo and Madison’s small hands. “I don’t know,” he answered. “We’ve got to go. This place is going to go up in smoke.”