Chapter 19: Death Becomes Him

It is like standing on a fireworks boat on the fourth of July.  All four men shooting in rapid succession and completely out of sink with each other.  Albert’s body jerks violently with every shell that passes with ease through his garments and shred’s through just about every organ in his body.  The bonds around Albert’s legs, arms and body loosen by misguided pieces of shrapnel that miss their mark.  To Andy and his mother the gunfire never ended.  A cloud of smoke grows between the firing squad and Albert coming from the shotguns with every round that is pumped into Albert’s huge frame.  Albert’s head drops dead into his chest. 

The sound of clicking tells all four gunmen that their guns are empty.  From behind the curtain of smoke a crash is heard which could only mean that in his now lifeless state, Albert’s weight shifted in a way that caused him to fall over and the chair to break.

            The gun smoke in the immediate area clears slowly and what is left of Albert is revealed.  Albert, the man they called “Jawbreaker” is lying on the ground dead in an outline of his own blood.  He is now jawless and still wearing his long trench coat over a once white shirt.  Albert is covered with bullet holes and blood across just about every inch of his body.  He has fallen on his side.  The bounds of rope lay strewn and smoking all around him.  The steel chair he was on has been shot up so bad that it broke to pieces when he fell over.

“Wow!  Nice work boys.  Too bad we can’t get Albert to get ride of the body.” Mel says while smiling at Albert’s lifeless body.  Mel then turns to Andy and his mother. 

“Now on to you two.”

            Fear grips Andy like never before.  The man who said he would protect him now lay dead on the cold concrete.  Andy and his Mother don’t whether or not the tears fall from unrelenting hopelessness or the smoke.  Probably both.

“Walter,” Mel says. “Grab what you need from the table and take the kid upstairs.”

“Thanks Mel.” Walter looks like a kid in a candy store as he makes his way to the table and begins to fill his pockets with a couple terrible tools.  Walter takes a small knife and cuts the bonds that unite Andy to his mother.  The mother jerks violently as though trying to free herself, but the gun smoke rushing up her nostrils causes unbearable fatigue.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa little lady.  Not so fast,” Mel cruelly coos, “You’re going to give the boys here a bit of fun before you die.”

Walter throws the now free (and anything but free) Andy over his shoulder.  Andy can move his feet, but his hands are still tied in front of him and his mouth is still gagged.  So naturally, Andy tries to kick Walter wherever he can but it’s no use.  Mel walks away from the bound mother and the boys after Walter.

“And keep it down Walter, I’ll be in the office on the phone talking to our informant, finding out from the Mac who else was in the room when Jawbreaker here…

Mel gestures towards Albert’s slain and motionless body.

… or ‘Jawless’ I should say, spilled his guts.”  Mel said while following Walter up a set of steel stairs towards an elevated office area.

            Left with the mother in the warehouse are Joe, Tala, Reid and David.  David stands like he has no interest in what is about to happen.  Joe turns to Tala and Reid and demands, “Cut the girl free hold her down to the table.”  Joe then turns to Mel’s driver and says, “You can just watch, homo.”  David says nothing.

            Within seconds the mother is pinned to the table by Tala holding down her left arm and Reid hold down the right arm.  Since not having her son tied to her lap, what she is wearing can be seen much more clearly.  She is wearing a sleeveless, white button down shirt and a long white skirt, both stained with sweat and dirt from being captured.  Most of the tools now lay on the ground behind her head, except for a few big items and a couple knifes.  Her butt half hangs off the edge of the table as Joe positions himself between her legs by forcing them to part.  The mother lets out shrieks of pain and anger from behind the gag in her mouth.

“Oh, come on now.  I’m a romantic sweet-heart.” Joe says coldly. “I believe in foreplay.”

Joe reach’s to the top button of her shirt with both hands and unbuttons it.  From behind them the three gunmen can here David cough heavily but no one turns their eyes from the table.

Joe slowly moves his hands to the second button and unbuttons it.  All three gunmen smile devilishly down at her frightened face.  Joe parts her top as much as he can.  Her breasts remain unseen despite the obvious fact that she is not wearing a bra.  Joe undoes the third button, then the fourth button.  Behind them a sound like David just dropped his gun is heard, but again, no one looks.  One more button left.  Joe undoes the fifth button and places both his hands at the bass of the mother’s stomach.  She lets out another painful groan.  Blood from the bite Albert gave Joe is hardened on his hand as Joe slowly moves his hands up the mothers belly towards her breasts, exposing them more and more as he goes.  All three men can almost see her… blood!

The mothers’ entire mid-section becomes covered in someone’s blood.  Joe’s arms go rigid.  His fingers twitch like he is playing an invisible piano.  More blood spills out from between Joe’s arms and his arms shoot outwards like he has wings.

            So much blood just seemed to come out of nowhere and spill upon the mothers once white shirt.  She begins to shriek with her eyes even wider then before.  For a moment she forgets her son is upstairs at the mercy of a fat old lunatic.  Tala and Reid instantly release the mother’s arms.  Joe takes a step back from between the mother’s knees and looks down at his chest.  There is a steel square shaped object covered in his blood protruding from the center of his chest.  A large blood-covered hand grip’s Joe’s left shoulder like a vice.  Tala and Reid stand shocked at the sight that stands behind bloodied leader.  

            “How?” Tala whimpers.

Standing behind Joe holding the r-shaped chair handle in his right hand is a very big man wearing a black hood over what’s left of the top portion of his head.

Note from the Author.

Thank you everyone both followers and bookmarkers for reading Jawless so faithfully.  I have told people that I love the zombie genre and writing these stories for me is very joyful.  As I type and rewrite this series I feel like I am a child playing with toys on Christmas morning.

I welcome your comments and questions concerning the characters and the direction that I am taking them into.  Interpretations of the metaphors within the story are especially cool.  Thus far Jawless is riddled with clues as to the outcome.  I am leaving on a little trip and will be laptop-less and unable to post the story further for a while.  But, I welcome you to review past chapters in the comments and please invite more followers as well.

Thanks again and stay undead,


INSERT PEN NAME HERE.

PS:  I will post as much as possible before I go.

Chapter 18: Jawless

Albert sits tied to the chair while everyone, but Andy, waits for him to open his eyes.  But Albert couldn’t open his eyes.  So tired and fatigued, Albert feels his engine beginning to choke and stall. 

            “Albert.” A sweet young woman’s voice says to him from inside his own head.

            The touch of the hand around his chin begins to feel soft and feminine.

            “Albert, honey.  Open your mouth.”  She has an English accent.

            Her image is blurry but beautiful.  She comforts Albert.  For a moment he feels free.  Albert is a little baby and he sits in a high chair.  This young woman has a spoon full of food in one hand and Albert’s chin in the other.  She is trying to feed him, but Albert is not hungry.  Albert wants out of the chair so he can play.

            “You have to eat Albert.”  She says sweetly.  But Albert instantly realizes that he is tied to the high chair.  Baby Albert begins to cry.

            Adult Albert lets out a moan of pain sending tiny vibrations into Joe’s hand.  The mom tied up struggles against Raptor but has absolutely no luck.  Andy struggles against Walter but also has no luck.  Walter moves the spoon towards Andy’s left eye with intent on removing the frightened orb from its socket. 

            “You have to eat your solids, Albert.  You’re teething you are.”  His mother says to him.

            Baby Albert struggles a little in the high chair.  He wants to play.  His mom can read his mind.

            “You can play later honey.  I’ll look after you my precious.  But you need your strength.  You have to eat something, Albert.”  She said before disappearing. 

Albert decides to be a good boy.  He opens his mouth as wide as he can and bites down on the spoon.  The spoon turns into the base of the Joe’s thumb.  A small salty chunk of meat separates into Albert’s mouth.  Albert opens his mouth and lets the chunk fall from his lips as his chin hits his chest again and he closes his eyes.  His mom and every memory of her is gone. The black hood falls back over his head.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST,” Joe recoils examining his bloodied hand.

“AAGGHHHHH!  WHAT THE FUCK!  WHAT THE FUCK!  FUCKIN’ BIT ME.  STUPID LIMEY MOTHERFUCKER BIT MEEEEE!”  The anger and pain in Joe’s voice is startling to everybody but Albert and Walter. 

  “What are you in grade school Albert?” Walter said looking up at the two men unintentionally stopping himself from what he was about to do to Andy.  Joes’ anger pushes him instantly into that zone that always made him look stupid.

“JAWBREAKER HUH!  JAWBREAKER…I’LL TEACH YOU TO FUCKING BITE ME.  YOU WANNA BITE ME?!?!?”  Joe yells angrily. 

Joe pumps his shotgun and points it down at Albert’s head.

            “No, DON’T!” Walter screams.

KA-BOOM!

Blood, bone and shell fragments paint the cold concrete floor like a canvas turned to art in half a second.  Albert didn’t make a sound.  Walter drops the spoon to the ground, releases Andy from his grip and walks towards Albert’s chair.  Raptor releases the girl and simply stands next to the Tala.  Joe “The Head” backs away from what he just did.  Walter kneels down to get a better look at what is left of Albert’s face.  It appears as though the shell entered the right cheek just below the upper-jaw line.  The bottom lip, the tongue and the lower jawbone are gone.  The upper-jaw is visible under the now half-shredded black hood.  Walter can see without any trouble the roof of Albert’s mouth all the way back to his tonsils.  The scraped up skin of Albert’s large neck is only intact just above his Adam’s apple.  The rest is gone and his upper-lip has retracted like a curtain, leaving his top row of teeth visible at all times.

            “Jeez, Head.” Walter looks to the Joe with a mixture of surprise and praise.  “You fucked him right up.  Bitch can’t even scream properly.  Creative!”

“It was an accident,” Joe replies.  “I meant to blow the fuckers head off, ya know?  Look at my hand.” Joe holds out his left hand.  “He took off the flesh from right under my thumb.  My thumb and trigger finger have gone numb.”

“Don’t you mean your picker finger?”  Walter jokes.  “That’s not the hand you choke your chicken with is it?”

“Funny!” Joe replaces his Godfather impersonation with sarcasm.  “Sorry, Wally.”

“It’s all right, Joe.”  Walter assures straightening up over the profusely bleeding Albert.

“What the hell is going on in here?  Don’t you guys know the city is at war with itself?”  A commanding and degrading voice booms from behind Albert and instantly causes all who are not bound already, to become rigid with fear.  Two men let their footsteps be heard by all in the warehouse as they walk ever so much closer to what must be the center of the place.  Walter stares past Albert and appears to be the only one that is not afraid.  When it is apparent that the two men are close enough to hear him, Walter speaks.

“Picked him up like you told ‘em to, Mel…” Before Walter can finish Mel has already rounded Albert’s chair and can see what has happened.  Mel interrupts.

“Fuck!  What the hell you’d guy’s do to his face?” Mel demands looking from Walter to Joe down to Joe’s smoking shotgun barrel to Joe and then back to Walter with a look of angered bewilderment.  Melvin Maroni holds out his arms in his expensive grey suit as if to say, well? 

Mel is not as tall or strong looking as the gunmen in the room or the gunman who has silently accompanied him into the warehouse.  Mel pulls his dark sunglasses off his face.  His hair a short, black business arrangement with graying on both sides of his forehead.  Melvin’s tan is a little lighter then his nephew, but his demeanor is all too threatening.  His capabilities as a businessman and executioner proceed him.  He has a thin dark moustache, which drapes around his lips straight down to his chin in the shape of a giant staple.  Mel bends over by Albert’s right side and examines the missing half of Albert’s face more closely.  About two seconds go by before Mel recoils to an upright position.

“Well Joey?  Unless Albert here cut himself shaving or something I’m going to assume the mess on the floor is your doing.”

“Yeah, boss.” Joe replies like a child caught with his hand in the cookie-jar.

“So, didn’t I say keep him alive so I could talk to him.” Mel asks.

“He is still alive, boss.” Joe foolishly responds gesturing to the low groan coming from Albert’s exposed and bleeding gullet.  Walter hangs his head in disappointment as if he knows what Melvin is about to say.

“HE CAN’T FUCKING TALK YOU ASSHOLE.  HIS TONGUE IS ON THE FLOOR.”  Mel screams so close to Joe’s face, Joe recoils nervously.  Mel lowers his voice and continues, “So unless you know how to reattach the lower half of Albert’s face, I’d say our chances of discussing the weather are pretty fucking slim.  Agree?

“Yeah boss.  Sorry…he bit me and I…I over-reacted, you know?” Joe says in the same ‘poor me’ tone.

“Oh poor baby,” Mel says unsympathetically like a parent trying to embarrass a child searching for sympathy.  “Get yourself a band-aid and some ‘ouch-free’ ointment and that will make it all better.  And if that don’t dry your eyes then we might have to chop it off…starting at your pecker.”

Everyone still standing laughs loudly, except Joe and Mel.

            Mel walks over to Andy, bound to his mother, bound to the steel chair.  He stares into both of their frightened eyes.  He then looks to Reid and Tala just standing there in front of the table of arms.

“This the hooker and her son?” Mel asks already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” Walter replies walking towards them.  “Informant handed them over on a silver platter.  Free of charge.”

“That right?” Mel says in a tone that implies something is disappointing him.

“What was the plan then, Wally?”  Mel asks rhetorically while picking up the spoon from the floor.  “Torture the boy in his mother’s arms while Albert there, watches?”  Mel’s guess is right on the money and Walter can’t deny it. 

Mel knows Walter better than anyone else in the room.  Mel turns his back to Andy and his mom and faces Albert with an irritated expression on his face.  Albert’s head hangs so low now that his jaw is gone that his hood almost slides off his head.  His long buttoned trench coat is stained badly with his own blood.

“Finish him.” Mel demands.  Reid and Tala grab their shotguns off the table and move around Mel, Andy and the girl.  Joe, bitten, embarrassed and angry, moves next to them and holds the pump to his shotgun in his unharmed right hand.  The man they call Casper, moves around Albert and stands to Joe’s left.   David pulls out his custom Desert Eagle and takes aim at Albert’s body.  Walter moves aside to Albert’s right, he is unarmed.  In his last moment of strength Albert lifts his head and stares blindly, his eyes still covered by the black cloth.  Reid, Tala, Joe and David otherwise known as Raptor, Wolf, Head and Casper click the bullets into the chamber of their guns…

Ca-click!  Ca-click!  Ca-click!  Click!

…And…

“I SAID FINISH HIM!” 

Chapter 17: Drifting Away

If not for the gag over his mouth, Andy’s screams could shatter glass.  Walter inhales proudly like Andy’s terrified noisemaking is the scent of gourmet cooking.

Albert just stares ahead.  His eyes open, then shut, and open again.  Every movement on the inside is an uphill struggle for his body to keep him alive.  Coupled with the pins and needles sensation that accompanies his remaining still for so long and it won’t be long before Albert is dead.

“I can’t…remember,” Albert breaths.  “I…can’t…move at all.”  These words gain no sympathy from the other four men in the room. 

“It wasn’t easy to tie you up like that,” one of the other voices laughs.

“I can’t…”  Albert lets his chin smack into his chest from exhaustion.  The black hood falls back down over his face.

“You can’t…what, Albert?”  Walter asks rhetorically.  “Be a hero?  Little Andy told me about how you said you’d protect him.  About how I’m the boogieman.  Well Andy…” Walter turns to the little boy still bound and crying in his mothers lap, “…Al was wrong.”

Walter moves in closer to Andy’s face.  In Andy’s field of vision Walters wrinkled old white face is like that of a retired clown that no one would hire.  Walters gives Andy a crooked smile of rotting yellow teeth.

“I’m not the boogieman,” Walter whispers to the boy, “I’m much, much worse… let me show you.”

            Walter stands up straight from facing Andy and walks to the table behind the firing squad.  There on the table lay the instruments of a sadist’s wet dream.  Knifes of every size, two whips, one has rusted nails on the end, cuffs, straps, a handheld chainsaw, a screw driver, three axes of varying sizes, sharpened steaks and operating utensils of every kind as well.  There is even a spear, which looks like a silver pool cue.  The gunmen gave each other uneasy stares.  Nobody wants to see this.  Walter reaches for the last thing any one of the three, armed men expected: a small, ordinary, silver tee-spoon.

“You, hold the girl.” Walter demands of Raptor who promptly sighs and then places his shotgun on the table.  Raptor holds the girls head back like he’s about to wash her hair whether she likes it or not.  The girl can’t move from the restraints and the muscular arms around her small neck. 

“You, make him watch this.” Walter gestures to a second gunman.  The second gunman, Joe, hesitates.

“Come on boss, what’re going to do?”  Joe says trying to sound more tough than concerned.

“JUST PULL HIS FUCKING HOOD UP AND MAKE HIM WATCH THIS YOU STUPID FUCK!”  Walter yells furiously before breathing heavily.   Joe moves to the other side of the chair, opposite the girl and her son.  Walter places his left hand under the neck and pins Andy’s head against his mothers’ chest.  Joe walks to Albert and lifts his hood up.  Joe puts his shotgun in his right hand and grips Albert under the chin with his left.  He shakes Albert awake and lifts his head so that the four people in front of him can be seen.  The image of the girl, Andy, the black gunman, Walter and the Native gunman watching from behind them is very blurry.  Albert gives no resistance what so ever unless making no effort to hold his own head up counts.  Joe notices Albert is resting the weight of his head in Joe’s hand.  Joe’s arm starts to get tired.

Raptor watches as Walter brings the small silver spoon close to Andy’s face.  Tearful and fearful eyes of the mother look right into Raptors eyes.  Raptor begins to feel sick at what is about to happen.  He closes his eyes tight like a child at a scary movie.

Behind Raptor stands the one they call Tala.  His long flowing black hair brushes over his shoulders as he lowers his head as though in prayer.  Hands together with the shotgun in his right hand pointed straight down between his feet.  Tala has butchered many a men and women like they were cattle.  But what’s coming will give him no pleasure.  Tala doesn’t want to see this either, so he takes in a less disturbing view of jet-black hair dangling towards the floor.

Joe stands with Albert’s chin in his hand.  Joe begins to understand why no one was ever with Walter when he “worked.”  This child, Andy, is about to go to hell on Earth with the Devil, Walter, as his guide.  Joe begins to wonder why it is that Walter is allowed to do what it is that he does.  Investigating Mel’s motivation for employing Walter would have to wait.  For now Joe, like the others, finds a spot on the wall to focus on.

Walter wants to indulge again.  The pleasure he feels at the sight of fear in Andy’s eyes… just an appetizer.  Walter thinks about how digging out Andy’s eyes will make him feel alive.  It will also make his anger go away.

“Enjoy looking at your hero Andy.” Walter slobbers angrily. “Cause it’s the last thing your going to see boy.”

            Albert inhaled a slow drawl of breath that took his last bit of strength.  Before Walter looked away from Albert and back to Andy Albert catches a scent. 

            This… hand… Albert thinks as he slowly opens his mouth.

Chapter 16: Sometime Later.

If Albert was in his right mind, he might have decided to play possum as he woke up to discover that he’s been bound to a steel chair and blinded.  Albert is not in his right mind.  His head feels like it’s being crushed slowly.  His memory of what happened yesterday is gone.  Albert doesn’t even know that he is about to be tortured and killed.  Albert feels like he is a drunk being born again.

“Hey, he’s awake,” a voice calls out and Albert foolishly turns his head in the direction the voice came from.  Several other voices mutter about to this news and Albert has no deductive ability to count out how many people are watching him awaken.  Albert tries to string together a thought.

I… I’m tied up, is all he can tell himself.  Albert’s face is wet with sweat that causes the black cloth over his head to cling to his face.  He is in anguish for losing his thoughts before he can use them.  He is weakened by something he does not know.  Albert’s mouth is dry like sand and his eyes and nose are useless.  His ears however, pick up the heavy nasal breathing of someone behind him, but he is too lost for it to be anything other then just a sound.

I’m tied up.  I shouldn’t be tied up.  Albert thinks with difficulty.

His body is so weak that he can’t move at all.  His captors used thick rope in fear that anything less and there would be a chance that Albert’s huge frame would break free.  If his captors knew of Albert’s physical condition they would have been perfectly comfortable to tie him to a bean bag chair using a sewing thread.  Albert remains motionless for what seems like an eternity behind the black cloth hood.

Like the movie to the last moments of his life is about to start, Albert’s hood is removed.  He takes a slow dizzying look around at his environment.

Where am I?  I’ve never been here.  But the office upstairs and the dried up vomit outside the old meat locker begs to argue with Albert.

There are four people in what appears to be the very large and vacant warehouse.  Albert sits facing them, who stand in front of table of unknown contents.  They are blurry to his sight now.  They are all of Melvin ‘s enforcers.  All of them are tall and mean looking, dressed completely in black except for the one to Albert’s far right who is wearing a heavy white lab coat over his now black clothes and judging from his fat frame and red top, could be none other than Walter.

“Gone to the police have you Albert?  You know, of all the people Mel could have guessed would have betrayed him…well, he was right on the money when he picked you.  We always knew you were a big softy.  Greased your drawers when I took care of the younglings didn’t you Albert?”  The old voice echoes off the walls of the warehouse.

“Think there’s no cops on Mel’s payroll?  Guy like you walking into the Police station kind of sticks out like a sore thumb don’t ya think?”  The voice chuckles cruelly.

Albert stares straight ahead of himself at the four blurry men who stand before him like a firing squad.  He is able to focus his eyes for just a moment.  Albert doesn’t recognize any of these guys.  He does recognize that they are armed with shotguns.  Except for the fat one on the right.

“I thought you were trying to save a life yesterday.  Turns out you’re more clever than I thought.” The voice is coming from the fat one, Walter.

Walter walks towards Albert and bends over to face Albert eye to eye.  He lifts Albert’s square, sweaty chin and speaks in a low voice now, “thought you were pretty smart hiding the brat under the bed, eh?  What you trying to do Al?  Buy your way into Heaven?  Save a brat or two.  Well guess who’s here to thank you?”

At these words Walter lets go of Albert’s chin and reaches behind the chair he is bound to.  Squealing steel is heard like nails on a chalkboard.  Through his blurred eyes Albert can see that Walter is dragging something large at a sixty-degree angle until it is directly in front of the three-man firing squad.  The large item is another steel chair.  Bound to the chair is a young, skinny, blonde woman who could be no more than twenty-five.  Bound to her lap is a young boy with unkempt brown hair and blue pajamas on.  Both of them have their mouths covered.

Perhaps Albert would beg for their lives.  Say things like, ‘leave them out of this,’ or ‘he’s just a boy.’  But Albert has no idea who this girl and boy are.  Albert’s memory is almost completely faded.  Walter and the others have no idea why Albert is giving no reaction to this second encounter.

“That’s right Al!  Found us the bitch too.  Imagine our surprise: we go back to the apartment to find a panic stricken blonde girl trying to run for it out of the apartment with a little boy.  OH!  And to top it off she can’t move so good, like she’s running through four feet of water is what she looked like.”

Laughter is heard from the other three men behind the bound woman and her child.
“Who…who are they?”  Albert says like a man having a slow asthma attack.

“Who are they?” Walter laughs, “Why it’s Tony’s gift to the boys here.”

Walter sneers while running his wrinkled hand slowly over the young girls blonde hair.  The firing squad let out a few jeers and laughs again.  The blonde girl whimpers and shrieks through her gag and allows a tear to roll off her cheek and down on to the top of her son, Andy’s, head.

“And this…” Walter gestures to Andy.  The firing squad falls silent, “…is Tony’s last gift to me.”

Chapter 15: The Fall Of Albert

Albert lets out a brutes bellow of pain.  The little girl releases her bloody teeth from Albert’s thumb as he rapidly yet carefully, places her on the asphalt.

“Ah, why’d you bite me?” Albert asks the girl, who looks as if the concrete is her bed and she just passed out.  Her eyes remain shut.

“The hospital…monsters…people…monst…” The girl falls unconscious completely.  The sounds like that of a violent riot draws closer and all around Albert and this small child lay slain by the unknown on the sidewalk.  Albert can hear gunshots, screams and tires squealing.  Albert can now see smoke rising and people attacking other people in the distance.  Albert feels he has to make another decision.  Before he can even clarify what that decision is, his world goes dark.  A black cloth hood is placed over Albert’s head.  He brings his arms up to remove the cloth, but his arms are seized by enough people that his large muscles count for very little.  In the dark Albert is dragged on his heels away from the little girl, whom he imagines can’t see what is happening. 

But then if she could see, what could she do? 

It is quite obvious to Albert who is handling him, but he suddenly feels dizzy.  His calf muscles hurtfully collide with a hard straight force that doesn’t cut him, the base of a large vehicle opening.  Albert is thrown on to the cold steel floor, all he can hear in his head is his own voice telling him the same four words over and over…

I’m a dead man.  Albert has no idea.

“Night, night you big snitching bitch!” A familiar voice yells as squealing tires are heard before-

Wham!

It felt like being hit in the head with a cannon ball.  The force of the vehicle he is in going zero – eighty takes all balance away and Albert skull smacks into the floor.  Albert goes completely unconscious.

            The unmarked white van peels away leaving the little girl unconscious before the chaos spreading towards her.  Suddenly as though never injured to begin with the girl rises to her feet.  She stands in place with her head hanging down.  Her disheveled hair covers her face.  Albert’s blood rolls down upon her chin.  She stands and lets out a moan of unknown wanting and pays no attention to her injured arm.  Soft, yet disturbing and still, the girl finally gets reacquainted with her legs and stumbles forward.  Strangely she heads in the same direction as the van that took Albert.

Chapter 14: Mistaken Redemption

Albert didn’t even have to venture a guess as to why the head of Tony had stopped.  The head lay protruding just a little bit from under the bed.   Walter sat where he was staring right at it.  The moment that had passed so quickly somehow was slower in retrospect.  Albert’s gut wrenched like it was being twisted by vise grips.  Walter looked at Albert and than back at the head.  Walter slowly changed from being seated cross-legged to crawling towards the foot of the bed on all fours.  Albert raised the axe in the air ready to strike Walter in the back of the neck if he gave any indication that he had found Andy.

“Oh look what we’ve found here,” just say it once Walter and I’ll send you back to the devil that made you.  Albert thought. 

Images of what could happen ran before Albert’s waking eyes in a fraction of a second.  To his horror Walter could pull little Andy out from under the bed and in one swift move kill him right then and there.  Walter could take a small, but very sharp, knife he carries out from his coat pocket and start stabbing at the back of Andy’s neck.  Or Albert could bring the axe down upon the back of Walter’s head.

            But just as all was about to be revealed and Walter’s reaching for the white plastic bag, Albert changed the plan.  Albert threw the axe down onto the bed and grabbed the white bag himself.   Albert then held the plastic bag in Walter’s face so that it completely filled Walter’s line of vision.  The head was so close to Walter that it ‘invaded his space’ and he retreated to a standing position with his back to the dresser.  He never caught sight of Andy, Thank God!

“You should be more careful Walter.  That’s no way to get ahead.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny.” Walter said.

“We’re leaving.  I’ll finish with the bird tonight.”

            “Mel says to finish them today.” Walter responds while reaching for the axe in Albert’s hand.  Albert grabbed the axe from Walter in his left hand and held Walter at arms length with his right hand, which still carried Tony’s head.  Albert made to put the head back in the case while talking. 

“They’re not going anywhere and I’m tired.  I need a pint and some rest.  I’ll come back with the rest of me tools and finish the job tonight.  No shots fired and the blinds are down, which means nobody knows what’s going on here.  Like anyone would talk anyway.  Let’s go.”  Albert shuffled Walter out of the room and turns back towards the bed, “In the now, let’s hope none of the neighbors have to use the lou before I come back.” 

Whether or not Andy heard the words that were directed at him, Albert could not know.

* * * * *

Everything should work out al right now, Albert tells himself.  In a murder case you need a body and a witness. 

Andy, his mom and Tony… Done! Albert stops replaying the past days incidents in his mind and rises from the bus stop bench.  For now he walks as a free man but when Mel and Walter and the rest of the crew are taken down Albert will be taken down with them.  Albert knows that when he brought the police back with him to the apartment just a little over an hour after him and Walter left, he had also brought Christmas to the D.A.  Enough evidence in that apartment coupled with the evidence that was just waiting to be found at the warehouse in the form of Tony’s head.  Little Andy taken to the station, protected, cared for, until he can be placed in a nice foster home.  The police just have to follow their lead, and all involved will have their names immortalized for bringing down the biggest and meanest mob boss this country has ever known.

All’s in order, Albert thinks to himself.  So, why the mind-numbing aches?  Why the terrible feeling?  That old line about how nothing ever goes according to plan playing over and over in my mind.  Why the need for more (pain) killers?  Shouldn’t need ‘em.  Should feel like I’m on top of the world.  But I don’t… why?

            The street Albert is walking down is now thick with scared people running past him.  People of all ages and types and walks of life running like there is an impromptu marathon.  Some running, some screaming, some doing both, some doing neither but just slowly walking past Albert and anyone else who happens in his direction.  Many of these people appear injured.  Bleeding from the arm, neck or chest.  Some even limp with redness showing on their legs.  Some let out moans of agony and others let out a slow, cold, raspy drawl of breath, like that of a cold wind passing through a rusting sewage pipe.

            For a moment it occurs to Albert that by the result of some election or sport, that he isn’t aware of, a riot has broken out.  In the distance he can see fires and smoke rising to the sky.  He can hear gunshots.  Just as Albert slows his step and decides that perhaps he should turn around something small catches his sight.  A little girl, who could be no older then eight, runs through the crowd towards Albert.  She has sandy-blonde hair in sweaty-wet pigtails and is wearing a yellow dress with pink flowers on it. 

For brief moment through foggy vision and rememberance Albert imagines she is the High School girl he had encountered on the terrible night with Walter.  But she is not.  She is a lot younger.  As she quickly stumbles closer to Albert and falls down, Albert drops his paper cup and catches the young girl in his arms.  The first thing Albert notices as he lowers his huge frame towards the ground is that the little girl has a nasty cut on her left shoulder.  Blood has spilt from the injury and drawn an ugly red line down the length of the girls yellow dress.  Her eyes drift open and shut and open again as she struggles to stay conscious.

“Can’t remem… remember… I can’t remember where I… live.”  The little girl trailed off and her eyes shut again.

“Little girl, stay awake.  I’m going to carry you to the hospital, all right?”  Albert says as he lifts her off the ground.  At these words the little girls eyes widen in fear.

“NO!  Not the hospital,” she cries.

“You’re hurt all right?” Albert tries to calm her.

“No…not the hospital…there’s…monsters…” The little girl passes out in his arms her head resting against Albert’s left hand.  Albert quickens pace towards the hospital.  He does not notice that the little girls lips pressed against his large thumb for only a moment before she bares her teeth.  With might like that of a closing car door the little girl bites down on Albert’s left hand between his pointer-finger and thumb.  Albert stops dead in his tracks. 

Chapter 13: One way to make a Japanese flag.

Just as Walter turned into the bedroom, Albert pulled his axe out from his coat and like lumberjack brought the blade down upon the neck of Tony.  The head separated from the body in one slice.  Blood sprayed up towards Albert and he instantly realized that he forgot to put on his apron.

“Dogs fucking bollocks!” Albert sighed aloud.

 Blood sprayed from the side of the cut as well.  On the right side of Tony’s neck there is now a severed artery.  Blood from that artery continues on as it always has but now is met by the shiny steel of Albert’s axe.  From there the physics of this world determines that the blood must fly towards the doorway where Walter would stand.  Walter took a few steps back.

“Jesus, Albert, be careful man.” Walter whined.

The head rolled a little to the center of the bed and began to soak in the rising pool of blood coming from Tony’s open neck.  Albert leaned the bloody axe blade-down against the side of the dresser and pulled a small white plastic bag out of the case to put Tony’s head inside of.

“Didn’t he put up a fight at all?” Walter asks.

“Nothing the butt of a gun can’t handle.” Albert lied while letting the head fall into the case with a sickening thud.

“No need to rush Albert.  Just got off the phone with Casper.  Seems Mel has some urgent business outside of town tonight.  He won’t be expecting anything now until early afternoon tomorrow.  Plenty of time to get your shirt and coat to the cleaner’s.”

Casper, Wolf, Raptor and Jawbreaker… are cold hearted killers or power rangers?  Albert thought.

This news didn’t matter to Albert.  Mel was always out of town on the nights his enemies would ‘disappear.’  It was Mel’s favorite alibi, a plane ticket.  Albert stopped in front of the dresser at this, like a man deep in thought.  He looked down at his shirt the stream of blood caught his shirt collar, the inside of his coat and neck.  Albert grabbed a cloth out of the bag and whipped Tony’s battery juice off his Adam’s apple.

“You want to finish the girl, Walter?”  Please say ‘no.’

Walter let out a high-pitched little chuckle at this question.  He looked around and then asked, “What little girl?”

Albert walked over to the bed where Tony’s headless body lay.  He threw the sheets on the right side of the bed over Tony’s body.  Then Albert grasped the sheets on the left side of the bed and as Tony became completely covered, the girl was shown now completely naked.

“Nice!”  Walter stated with an approving nod, “but a little old for me.”

The blood from Tony’s neck had created an almost perfect circle of red in the middle of the white bed sheet that covered him.  It looked like a large Japanese flag with a naked blonde girl on the left side.  Her left hip smeared a little from the blood.
Albert picked up Tony’s wrapped-in-white body and carried the mummy into the bathroom.  He then let the body drop into the bathtub.

DONG

The impact of Tony’s body colliding into the ceramic tub echoed like the bells of St. Mary’s.  Albert returned to the adjoining bedroom.  Albert was only gone from the room for a second.  When he returned he found Walter sitting crossed-legged in front of the dresser facing the bed and tossing the white plastic bag, that has Tony’s head concealed inside, playfully in the air like it was volleyball.  The first thought that occured to Albert is for Andy.  If Walter just hunched forward a little he’d see the top of Andy’s little brown-haired head complete with two tiny un-severed hands over two tiny ears.  It is at this moment that something changes in Albert.

Tony is our last victim, aw-right?  Albert told himself.

There he stood in the doorway to the bedroom, Albert knew that one more person in this room was going to die, and it is not going to be little Andy.

Albert grabbed the axe from the side of the dresser and walked to the left side of the bed.  “Sure, you don’t want to do her, Walter?” he asked.

“I’m sure.  Knock yourself out Al.” Walter replied letting the head shaped plastic bag fall into his open hands before tossing it up again.  Albert raised the axe behind his head and gripped close to the blade with his right hand. Blood from the axe-head and Albert’s plastic gloves blended.

“How come she’s already dead?” Walter asked.  Albert was wondering how come he hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Tony loaded her up with sleeping pills.  Quite the gent isn’t he?”  Albert responds while letting the axe to his side. The lie was as simple as Tony’s intentions.


“So…she’s dead?” Walter asked.

Albert hoped Andy couldn’t hear him.  For a moment he considered simply nodding at Walter, but Walter’s eyes were fixed on the head he’d been tossing up.

Yes.

Nothing happened as the news of the girl’s condition filled the room.  Albert raised the axe into the air again.  In one fast motion he brings the axe down towards her soft neck, until a familiar…

THUD

Albert stopped himself just a fraction of an inch from below her chin.  He turned his head towards Walter and was instantly horrified.  Walter missed catching the head.  As though in slow motion, the head rolled towards the bottom of the bed.  Both men stay to their positions until the head hit something underneath the bed and stopped.  Albert knew what the head had run into, Walter didn’t.  And if Walter found out…

* * * * *

For several long and quiet moments, ever since Albert had spoken to him and shoved him under the bed, Andy, who had never considered what it would mean to die, had been lying under Tony’s bed face down, eyes-shut and ears covered.  Not until the bass drum-like sounds of movement stopped, would Andy even consider moving.  It was quite boring, but the sounds didn’t stop, so still is how Andy stayed as though part of the ultimate hide and seek game.  The stakes couldn’t be higher.  Suddenly he sensed something hard hit the ground, something rolled into the top of Andy’s head and stopped.  To Andy it felt like a bowling ball.

Ouch!  What was that?

A child’s curiousity took hold of Andy and he raised his head slowly to see what hit him.  The iris’ of Andy’s baby green eyes shrunk in terrified focus at the sight of a nose, mouth, chin and a large circular red stump of a man’s neck just visible through the foggy white plastic.  Andy’s hands instantly move to muffle his instinct to shriek.  Beyond the bag Andy could see nothing.  He doesn’t want to put his head back down and have the top of his head rubbing the plastic sealed chin.  All Andy could do was keep his mouth covered, close his eyes and pray.