by Jonas Saul
There was no other way in. He was out of time. They knew he was here. He had no element of surprise. All he had were two guns, one of their radios and a love for Rosina that gave him more willpower than any man loyal to Fuccini.
Sure, they’d use deadly force, but so would he. The nice Canadian image was over. No more mister nice Canadian.
He twisted the knob, ripped open the door and dropped back down two steps to avoid being hit by anything coming through at him.
The door opened to its farthest point, and then slowly came back to shut.
No bullets hailed down on him. No men standing, waiting. Just dead silence, and Darwin in a stairwell opening doors.
He opened it a crack and peeked in at the corridor. Lights filled the hall. Darwin smiled at life’s little pleasures.
He opened the door even more. The hall was empty all the way to the end.
His gun was ready, the safety off. As carefully as he could, he edged around and looked down the hallway the other way.
No one.
Weren’t they expecting me?
He stepped into the hall, having no idea which way to go.
“In here,” someone said.
He jumped and fired his weapon, the bullet shot through a ceiling tile, bits of dust falling.
“Shit. My fucking nerves.”
“There’s no need for that. I’m unarmed,” the voice said.
“Where, dammit?”
“In here.”
He tracked the voice to the open door about five feet from him.
With every bit of caution he could muster, Darwin started for the door. He pressed himself along the wall, slowly peeked around the corner, using one eye to look in the room.
An old man stood with his hands in front of him, clasped together.
Darwin turned into the room a little farther. Another man, unshaven and disheveled looking, stood off to the side by some kind of electrical generator. He was smiling.
“Come on in,” the disheveled man said. He smiled so wide, Darwin thought he looked mad. It was the smile of a lunatic. “Nothing in here to hurt you. Look, we have no weapons.”
Disheveled man lifted his hands in the air. The old man unclasped his and lifted them up too.
“No weapons,” the old man said.
Darwin looked up and down the hallway to make sure he wasn’t about to be ambushed, and then stepped into the room.
That’s when he saw Rosina.
The urge to shoot and kill had never felt so good.
Darwin lifted his weapon and aimed it at the old man.
“Get her down or you die.”
He felt no pain at that moment. He felt steady, calm and ready to murder ten men. Everything in his mind was clear. Rosina hung suspended on chains, and these men had done that to his wife. Her face pale, eyes closed. Remnants of vomit stuck to her blouse.
What have these people done to you, baby?
“There’s no need for further violence,” the old man said.
He turned to the disheveled man and motioned with his finger. A moment later, Rosina was lowered until her feet rested on the ground.
The old man brought his attention back to Darwin. “She is merely unconscious. As you can see, she is unharmed. I can’t say the same for my son.”
A glint in the old man’s eye told Darwin everything he ever needed to know about how the old man, Vincenzo’a father, felt for him. He could see the old man hated him on every level. Deeper than Darwin hated his stepmother and she was already dead.
His arm grew heavy. It wavered a little and then he lowered the weapon.
“Let her go. My wife and I will walk away. This is over. You’re finished. There is nothing left between you and me.”
The old man stared at him and waited.
“What are you waiting for? Let her down or you’ll have another body murdered here. I’ll start with the asshole with the sick grin over there. What’s your answer?”
The disheveled man laughed, a violent, deep chuckle that spoke volumes of the deeply disturbed.
“We are not finished yet,” the old man said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You and me have business. There is a certain debt that is owed to me. I always collect a debt. It has been the way of my family since the beginning of time. I’m not about to make an exception with you.”
“What debt? What are you talking about?”
Darwin stepped closer to Rosina. If and when she woke from her drugged sleep, or whatever it was these men had done to her, he wanted to be near.
“A blood debt.”
“Blood debt? Are you fucked?”
“Actually no, I can’t say I’m fucked. I’d say you are.”
Darwin raised the gun again, aiming it at the old man in the center of the room. “And how’s that?”
“If you shoot me, it won’t end there. If you shoot my Harvester, it still won’t end there.”
Harvester? What the fuck?
“You’re talking in circles, old man. Start making sense.”
The old man nodded to the one he called the Harvester. “Show him.”
The Harvester raised his right hand and displayed a little box with a button on it. “If I push this button, your wife will be jolted with enough electrical volts to not just kill her instantly, but literally burn her on those chains. Her scorched skin will fall off in pieces, like the burned bark of a tree, seared forever.” He smiled that sick grin again. “Are you aware how horrible that would feel?” He said horrible like a child would ask for cotton candy at the fair: a certain childish glee. It almost made him hop on the spot.
“You’re sick. The both of you are fucking gone. But,” Darwin raised his hand to make a point, “if you did push that button, I would execute the both of you. So who walks out of here? Huh? Ask yourself the real question: do you want to die today?”
The old man shrugged. “I’m old. I’m already dying and since you killed my only boy, I’m dead on the inside. You have killed me, Darwin Athios Kostas.”
“Don’t!” Darwin snapped. “Don’t you ever say my name like that again. Do you hear me? Never, or this ends for all of us.”
His eyes were wild, he breathed in and out between his teeth, every fibre in his body begged him to shoot the old man in the eye. He said Rosina’s name and held the animal urges at bay.
“Fair enough. I will not use your name for the duration of this meeting.”
How the hell does the old man stay so fucking calm. It’s like he knows something. He’s got the look of someone who has already won. That’s it. He thinks he’s won. This is his end game.
“But I want something from you.”
“What?” Darwin asked, his teeth still tight together. He had to think. He had to keep them talking. Rosina’s safety was first. He had to end this on his terms and he had to do it fast.
“I want you to set your weapons down and kick them over to me. I am an honorable man. Do this and I will have your wife released from that machine’s chains. Do we have a deal?”
“Are you fucked?”
“No, I am not. Do we have a deal?”
Darwin tried to clear his head. Could he see any other way out of this? A button push could take place in under a second. If that happened, he couldn’t even touch his wife or he’d be electrocuted with her.
So what then? Shoot both men and hopefully have a perfect shot, each time?
They had him and they knew it.
“You will unhook her? You’ll keep your word?”
“It is all I have. My word.”
Darwin felt he was out of options. He leaned down, set one gun on the floor and then kicked it away.
“The other one too.”
How did he know about the gun in the back of my pants? Cameras in the stairwell?
“No. There’s two chains holding Rosina. Unhook one for one.”
The old man considered this and then turned and nodded to Harvester.
Harvester? What ki
nd of name was that? What an asshole.
Darwin watched as he pushed a switch on a small control panel. Rosina was lowered to the ground. When she was spread out on her back, the Harvester pulled one chain off her arm. He stood, leaving the other connected, the little button held up with his thumb on it.
“If we stop here, you’ll have done worse damage to your wife,” Harvester said. “With only one connection, she’ll still die by electrocution, but it’ll take longer.” He grinned. “There’ll be more agony, more screaming and the smell of melting flesh will be …” he stopped when he looked at the old man.
“Enough. Now, the other weapon.”
Darwin saw the Harvester raise the button to give him a better view of it.
Then did what he hoped he wouldn’t live to regret. He reached into the back of his jeans and produced the weapon. He set it on the floor and then kicked it over to the old man.
He waited for the Harvester to push the button. But he didn’t. He took the mechanism out of his hand, set it down and walked over to Rosina, where he knelt down and unhooked her from the last chain.
“I keep my word, Darwin. Now, we can talk with less tension.”
He was stalling. More men were coming. Somehow, this is a trap.
Darwin started to feel locked in. He needed to get out, run. He needed to take Rosina and run away as far as he could.
For the first time since he was a kid, he wanted to run out into the dark night.
“What could we possibly have to talk about?”
“The debt,” the old man said.
“The debt? What debt?”
“Your blood debt you owe me.”
The old man nodded at Harvester and then Harvester reached behind a small counter that was littered with metal tools of some kind and brought out a machete covered in what looked like blood.
Oh, great, they don’t even clean their tools, was all that went through Darwin’s mind. The familiar stirrings of violence that accompanied the sight of a blade built inside him.
He backed up.
“You will bleed from as many places on your body as we can open. Then I will have you chained up, upside down, your legs spread wide. Two of my men will use a saw to cut you open from the groin down, until the blade hits your heart. In that position, blood rushes to the brain, keeping you alive through most of the cutting. Quite the experience, really.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw the old man picking the guns up. He was defenseless. This mobster had disarmed him, and now they were the ones in power.
All he had was his wits.
At least he did his best for Rosina.
Harvester was really grinning now. He stepped closer, swinging the blade in his hand.
“I love sawing men in half. Only got to do it a couple of times. You’re going to be so much fun.”
To defend himself the best way he knew, with no weapon of any sort, Darwin reached down and slipped out of his brand new jacket and held it to the side. It wasn’t too thick, but it was better than nothing.
“What’s this?” Harvester asked.
“You wanna cut me? Here I am.”
The old man stepped toward the door. “Cut him up, cut him bad. But Harvester, don’t kill him.” And then he stepped out of the room.
Darwin wrapped the jacket around his left forearm. Harvester was four feet away and stepping closer.
“You really are a piece of work. Rarely do I get to meet someone so interesting,” Harvester said.
Darwin didn’t respond.
This was it. He’d held himself together as long as he could. He’d thought of his best response to dealing with the situation at hand, and now, with nothing to lose, Darwin could allow everything to flood through.
All the fury and anger from his childhood, everything he ever hated about his stepmother and all the people who had hurt his wife today, boiled to the surface, hit the top and overflowed into a madness so blinding and all-encompassing, a small part of him worried if he could ever regain normalcy again.
He screamed, grabbed his wounded, bleeding shoulder, and covered his hand in blood. He then wiped it on each cheek as if it were war paint, and said, “Let’s fuck around a little, you piece of fucking rat shit.”
The Harvester hesitated and looked into Darwin’s face. The moment of indecision was over as fast as it showed itself.
Harvester lunged forward, the blade held high.
Darwin threw his covered left arm at the blade and ducked under it, his right hand going for Harvester’s throat.
He clamped on, oblivious of where the blade was now, and squeezed with inhuman strength on Harvester’s windpipe.
In that moment, raw strength pulsed through him, the kind that mothers use to pick cars up off their babies. He tightened his grip so hard and so fast that he dislodged Harvester’s Adam’s apple. He pushed forward and tightened his grip again, screaming in the madness of the moment.
Harvester flailed his arms and lost his balance as he was thrust backwards, dropping the blade and trying to dislodge Darwin’s hand. At that point, nothing but the claw end of a hammer would release the grip.
Even though his eyes bulged from the pressure, the Harvester smiled. Harvester’s sickness fueled Darwin’s rage.
Their forward momentum tossed them to the floor, Darwin landing on top of the Harvester. As he rolled to the side his hand dislodged from the man’s throat. The Harvester was up on his knees in a flash, trying to learn how to breathe again.
Darwin rolled away and bumped into the tool tray. A metal grip lay beside his head. On the other end of the grip was a bar, similar to a police baton, but with long metal spikes. He almost didn’t touch it when he saw the spikes, but knew he needed to be rash here. He needed to use a sharp implement of some kind to end this.
Darwin grabbed the smooth handle and spun around, but he was too late.
Harvester brought his fist down onto Darwin’s wounded shoulder. He screamed and gagged on the phlegm that had collected in his throat.
The Harvester raised his fist again when Darwin, in awe that he held something sharp in his hand, swung it in a clean arc.
The four-inch spikes embedded in the side of the Harvester’s skull, one punching through his left eye, deep inside his head.
Harvester moaned, mumbled something, and sat down. With his good right eye, he found Darwin lying on his back in front of him. It almost looked like he couldn’t figure out who Darwin was.
Then he lost his balance and lay out on the floor, his right eye staring up at the ceiling.
Darwin got to his feet, his shoulder screaming, and looked over at Rosina. She was awake, watching in frightened silence.
Darwin stepped over to the Harvester. The eye met his. Blood dripped out of the four holes in his skull. The Harvester grinned. “That hurts a little,” he said.
“Goodbye,” Darwin said and lifted his foot. He brought it down hard and almost crushed the weakened side of the Harvester’s skull, blood and bits of brain leaking out onto the floor.
Darwin unwrapped the jacket from his forearm and discovered the cut the machete had made. Harvester had gotten in one good hit.
Damn, that’s going to need stitches.
He used his right hand to rewrap his arm and stepped over to his bride.
“How about it?” he asked, trying to put on a cool face, his hand extended to help her up. “You ready to finish our honeymoon?”
She got to her feet and leaned into him, crying.
“Let’s get out of here,” Darwin said and then stopped. “Did you hear that?”
She shook her head.
“Sounds like police.” He eased her off his chest and looked in her eyes. “There was an accident downstairs. A man was killed in the street.”
She nodded. “I know. A man named Paul. I heard them talking about it.”
“I’ve done some bad things today. But it was all in my defense. I didn’t hurt anybody that didn’t have it coming. And I’m sorry for trying to send you
away. You have to know I was trying to protect you.”
“I know,” Rosina said. “They all had it coming. But why are you telling me this?”
“Because there’s cops out front and if more cops are on their way, that means they’re coming for me. I could be in trouble. Once everything is ironed out, I’ll come out looking clean, but understand, that may take time and until then, unless that old man is out of the picture, our lives won’t be worth much.”
