He’s being really sneaky these days, Jack reflects as he sips from his drink. Not that it really means much. These old-school cats always kept things close to the cuff. But lately, it’s become more of a thing with Edgar. Jack supposes he has some scam going on that he wants to keep to himself. Something that will pay off big. The New Year will arrive in a week and the Bowl season will start. Big money in that. If that’s what it is, no big deal. As long as that’s what it is.He turns back to the T.V.“No. That won’t do. Call back when you can help us,” Edgar says impatiently and hangs up the phone. He walks over and takes a seat next to Jack.“So? What was that all about?” Jack asks without looking away from the movie.Edgar sighs. “It’s that Alderman. The guy’s a piece of work. He knows we need the stuff. He’s trying to wait it out until we offer more money. ”Jack’s suspicion eases. There has been an ongoing collaboration with the city’s Alderman Darrell Thomas, jig ex-drug dealer su
By nature, he was a pessimist and a profound man of science. The group he was traveling with, locals from the area, told him that to do this would mean certain disaster for everyone involved, and implored him not to do this blasphemous thing. The rumor goes on to say that he ridiculed the peasants and went about deciphering the wall etchings. Confident he had broken the code, Maxwell spoke the unmentionable name himself, and the angel of death appeared to him inside the cavern, killing the group of local trackers he had brought along, in a blaze of fire and ash satiating its ravenous and long-unquenched hunger for human flesh. Once the massacre was complete, the entity gazed upon a terrified Maxwell and granted him his heart’s one desire.Being a man with no real aspirations to supreme power (the tall tale stated that the angel’s patience grew short with Maxwell’s indecisiveness and nearly destroyed him too), Maxwell asked for riches beyond his dreams and was granted the wish.As the
“It can be beat,” she had told him several times, during her sessions. “My mother and brother beat it, and so will I.” And he believed her.She eventually fell into a coma and was not expected to live much longer after that. They did not know how long she could survive in that state, but the prognosis was as grim as it could get.Chris told Amy he went to be by her side everyday, thinking that it would be her last. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and he was there all the while, amazed that she hung on for as long as she had. He was sure that the longer she lingered, the better the chances she could come out of the coma. She never did, but something else happened.One night, as he slept in a chair close to her bedside (he did that a lot after she went under), she began to moan. It was low and raspy at first, and initially, he almost thought he was dreaming it.Soon the moan became louder, and he realized it was coming from his wife. As he sat up in his chair, her eyelids flu
Amy knew then what was about to happen. In that instant, she knew what her father intended to do. Those many nights he left after dark. Those many nights he looked at her as she lay there. It was no secret that many girls in the community had been sinful, letting boys have their way with them, but what was mostly kept under wraps were the pregnancies that occurred. These travesties had to be dealt with. It was about saving face. Appearances meant everything. Reputations had to be kept intact. Her father had been instrumental in keeping the reputations of others intact; now it was time to save his own.“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” her father said tenderly as he attempted to push her to her back. She grudgingly lay back, her eyes darting from her mother to her father.Her mother suddenly jumped onto the bed and began to tear the pants from Amy’s body. Amy allows this to happen, not sure if she should try to stop her. Her father stood and opened his bag and began to pull strange, shiny
The man’s face lights up. He attempts to speak but cannot form the words. Suddenly, his breathing becomes labored and harsh. He lies back and closes his eyes again. The machines connected to his body begin to beep and whir loudly. Finally, flat line.Attendants react to the cries of the machine, rushing into the room to begin life-saving procedures that will have no effect.Slipping past them in a rush is Delano. He is wearing a white medical smock as he makes his way to an open elevator at the end of the hall. No one pays attention to himNo one ever does. He enters the already open lift, his shoulders hunched, his head tucked. As the elevators close and he is alone, his body starts to shudder. He keeps his head down as the lift moves.He cannot hold it back any longer. His resolve is weakening, along with his “gift.” No one can carry out this undertaking without end, he was told by the Exalted. As usual, that foretelling was accurate. Grief grips Delano and he falls to his knees,
Pushing them both to the rear of the building, he draws his gun. He points it at Alex first, then at Lena, who flinches.Dan is agitated now, and he feels that this is going to end badly. There were way too many witnesses on the street this morning, and the memory of his picture being taken has him on edge. He’s not sure if anyone outside the organization knows about the hit, but if the D.A. is asking for him, this cannot be good.“Okay. Recess is definitely over. Who the hell are you?“Hey! It’s not what you think!” Alex says in a whiny, high-pitched voice.Dan steps closer, pressing the barrel of the gun against Alex ’s nose.“Tell me what to think, Mr. Rivera!” he snarls.Lena blurts, “We were told to find you for the D.A.’s office because apparently, this morning, you saved the life of a girl who happens to be related to the Deputy District Attorney!”“And he wants to thank you personally for saving his daughter,” Alex says nasally.Dan ponders this for a moment then lowers his
From outside the room, the sound of other tenants can be heard. The constant chatter of a TV. The steady thump of something against the wall. Somewhere else, someone is laughing way too hard. Accompanying it all is the continual sound of city life outside the dirty, cracked window of the room. Lloyd knows he’s not going to miss this shit. He dodged a proverbial bullet today and wants to put as much distance between himself and this city as he can. He has it all planned out, and if not for the mess today, he would have been well on his way to his final destination. That Mick asshole ain’t smarter than him, and he proved it. He’ll leave and set up shop, and with the money he has, he’ll gain the power he needs. Then he’ll return and wreck Jack and everyone else who crossed him.As Lloyd dreams and waits for his escort to finish in the bathroom, he believes he hears the tarnished brass doorknob of the room slowly begins to turn. He quickly looks toward the door. Nothing unusual.Lloyd aga
She sits for the moment, going over the past few minutes, analyzing every detail. His eyes. The way he knelt in front of her to give her the news. The crying. That’s what has her shaken the most. She has never seen Dan cry in all the years she has known him. The fact that he has chosen tonight to bare this side to her has her a little frightened. And the way he left? He’s protecting her again. She can feel it. She knows that Jack Lawson has something to do with this change in Dan’s demeanor and she is immediately conflicted. It’s good that he wants to change his life, something she’s wanted for years now. But why now? She has a feeling that Dan is in danger. Maybe he’s running, she ponders. She hopes if that is the case that he’s running for the right reasons. Please, God, take care of him.Amy and Dan met on a rainy night in the emergency room at Maxwell ten years before. She had been working there for a few months and was getting used to the city life so far from home. Having been
Feeling his back pockets, Alex told him, “Well come with me, we drops down to Bank of Montreal. I needs a bit of air, and a smoke maybe.”The door to Jimi Jak's opened, sound blowing out to the street for a moment or two and then gone, muffled inside. Alex lit his cigarette while he and Staunch went down the steps, which were now soaked in beer, streaks of blood, and littered with smoked down cigarettes butts from a successful, savage night. The Bank of Montreal only across the road from the bar, they crossed over once cars whizzed past.Nobody was inside the bank's ATM lobby. Alex passed Staunch the rest of his smoke before heading up towards the doors.“Not sure which one'll work,” Alex said thumbing through a handful of stolen debit and credit cards. “Might be a few minutes.”Alex went in to the bank machine and Staunch stood alone, drunk, in the dead of night. Occasionally, a car passed, a sound of laughter from the bar flew on the breeze, and a short time Staunch actual
Inside, the wood stove crackled nice and hot. The evening outside, even in summertime, cooled enough to put a chill in the bones. Brian and tom sat at a medium-sized kitchen table; they'd just finished off a good feed of minced moose burgers and deep-fried home fries. Don cooked a lot of things, but the boys loved their late night lunches – usually the same every time, burgers and fries or moose sausage and fries. As they relaxed in their chairs, Don brought them each a glass of ginger-ale, and a good portion of liquor for himself. The boys drank their pop and Don got his kit: one cigarette rolled, and a joint, as well.“Gimme a smoke,” Brian said, hand out.“Yeah, right,” laughed Don. “I ain't that nice, boy.”Brian laughed and Don lit his smoke.“That was wicked grub, Don,” Tommy told him. “Thanks again. Was friggin' starved.”“Today's been a long one,” said Brian.Between puffs of smoke, Don asked, “What'd you two shits get up to all day?”The boys looked nervous at one another, sl
The majority of the poor girl's murder only came back to him by way of time. Once months went by, the nauseating days of his freedom stretching on, and on, he pieced together several images from the night he first made death; him, the craftsman, making death by hand. Her throat bulged under a tight grip of his clenching fists. She tried to grab him, poke at his eyes, but the force of his hands clamping into her skin and taking the breath out of her heaving lungs kept him safe from any real damage, save a couple scratches. He did not actually orgasm; all the same, his penis shot up erect and stiff like a great monolith against her and he pressed it to her, putting the entire weight of his body down on hers, crushing the clutching bits of life from her flailing, pathetic existence still trying to hold to this world.From the start, he made a fine and thorough killer, an efficient machine created for the sole purpose of killing. Her body would never be found; it still sits buried, rotted
He lived on a decent cul-de-sac in Grand Falls, down near the river. Out back of the house sat a spacious garage separate by a large concrete pad, itself leading up into the long driveway. In the garage he had a nice spot for all his woodworking equipment: table saw, bench, racks of drills, hammers, handsaws, wrenches, and plenty of storage space for fresh wood and the like. At the back of the garage stood a door, behind the door, a room, and in that room were secrets. Locked away with only him and the stale air of the garage's workshop, those secrets grew, multiplied like mould in the dark, and he had a place where his wife would not disturb him; she left him to his business, and without her knowledge his rotten secrets, only coming out when he wanted her there. The man even installed a state-of-the-art security system for the entire property, including the garage, which came with intercoms; often, he would simply call his wife on the intercom to let her know it was fine to bring him
Back over under the Canopy and its branchy cover, Tommy and Brian stopped in an inlet of trees and alder bush. They were scared. Still, the boys were beyond determined to be done with the whole situation. Only trouble was neither of them, with all their heart, wanted to relinquish their hold on the money, those pieces of jewelry, all of that. Even as all the trouble of the world might perilously be wavering only inches above their heads, like one of those cartoons were an anvil hangs on a thread about the coyote's head, all Brian or Tom managed to see were the endless possibilities the contents of that bag could provide them; the images of a future path different than their own dominated them, overthrew those young and impressionable minds.“We could just toss the duffel bag in the woods someplace,” Brian remarked; half sure of himself, half kidding himself.The look gave his friend spoke enough on its own.“This is fucked up.”“We can't just get rid of it – not now,” Tom told him.“Y
Then, Staunch saw the wide birch shooting up near the lake's edge. His heart pumped in short bursts, rapid, and then short, slow again; a combination of nervous fear and the traces of meth still beating around in his brain. Alex stepped ahead of Staunch, who straddled behind wanting to stay but needing to follow. The hole sat only feet away now, closer with each and every stumble. Any minute now they would be right upon it. Stopped for a breath, frozen even in the pulsing rays of daylight, Staunch collected his emotions, his swollen and frayed nerves like wounded and exposed electrical wires, and he caught up to Alex . The two men stepped in around the birch alongside one another, with its hollowed middle, and Alex knelt, no words, at the edge of a roughly bore hole in the muggy earth; a hole where once they deposited all their stolen goods, a hole now empty, void.“Why'd you push me in the fuckin' trees like that?”“I just told ya,” Brian said, “there were people comin' and I di
The car parked a few lengths away from them. Two men got out of the driver and passenger sides; they looked normal mostly. One man – tall, tattooed and fairly muscular, the type who spends his free time lifting weights and self-obsessing over the tone of their muscles, bronzed and starved to death – went to the trunk, as the other – smaller, not much, than the other, and with the look of still being in high school due to his teenage way of dressing, but donning a cane in one hand, limping considerably and aching from an obvious back injury – looked to be moving slowly towards Alex and Staunch. They both walked towards the waiting Firebird.Staunch and Alex each got out and greeted the men.The smaller one extended a hand. “You Alex ?” He shook Alex 's hand. Turning to Staunch he asked, “And that must make you – what's it – Stench?”Alex cackled a dry couching laugh. “It's Staunch, actually.”“Shit, sorry.”Staunch looked calm, but underneath a volcano boiled, bubbled fierce in
Brian understood. He knew now, and along really, what Tommy felt wasn't a mental illness, a real delusion making him paranoid and insane; they both felt it, in different ways. It was the yearning for a new and different life instead of the shit existence they'd both experience up until now. While Brian and Tommy tried to create their own identities and shape the future of their lives, no matter how savagely they fought to do so, they were and always would be inhibited by the families which gave them life, shackled to a dirty destiny. Their parents each were destructive and heartless people; more concerned with their own lives and failed expectations and schemes than bothering to worry about the tiny, lonely humans they created from thin air, leaving them to grow into ungardened plants with no discernible paths ahead of them aside from anguish, despair, torment, and days on this wretched earth long and hard as the road to Hell.This gauntlet of living is what truly made Tommy lie and c
Brian decided it best to save his breath for the walk out from the station, especially considering Tommy planned to dig in three different places all around the area. He kept seeing more money, enough to dive into like Scrooge McDuck, and the thought made everything else fade away.But Brian's conscience, the well of his soul, wouldn't let him rest comfortably. He knew letting Tommy's delusion go on was risky; for days on days now, near a week, Tom has talked of nothing aside from the treasure, pirates, and all the like, and it slowly consumed his sanity, each day that passed. He kept on letting Tom pursue the dream of a legend that most likely was not true, in the slightest, and his spying conscience eyed him, judging, and made him feel as if his entire body were slowly being torn into quarters, drawn by horses, his every fibre wrenched in pain. Yet nothing stopped Brian. He certainly made no real efforts to curb Tommy's lust for treasure hunting.He went on watching Tom, who took hi