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.
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