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.”
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