I, Undead: Book 2 - Jawless

Preview of "HIGH SCHOOL REUNION."

2010-07-19T06:00:00.000-07:00

As the group of three begins to walk towards the Communications lab the first thing they notice is that all the lights inside the room are on. However, before they get one step into the room Jules stops them again in the same spot she was standing when she first heard that strange sound. She grips Stanley’s arm and Stanley stops to turned and find Jules pointing up the hallway. Jules shrivelled quivering hand and index finger motion for Stanley to look in the same direction and he does. Stanley can see what she is pointing at and immediately his heart begins to race. Stanley grabs the forward moving Vincent by the back of his coat and whispers, “Vincent, look!” Vincent had to take a step back and he follows Jules quivering hand as well. Vincent can see it. So far down the front hallway of the school the three of them could see the tall, slender form of a woman slowly walking as though incredibly drunk. She is walking towards them.

Vincent, Jules and Stanley walk to the center of the hall and now they can all hear the sound the woman’s high heels slowly clapping the white tile floor. The woman was so far from them that the detail of her appearance is a complete mystery, but due to the cut out of herself she makes against her background, Vincent and the others guess that she was wearing a sort of tight sweater and a mini-skirt. She looks really tall, almost eye to eye with Stanley. The slow clip-clopping sound of her heels echoeds across the hall.

“Others are going to hear her.” Vincent says giving little detail as to what he means. Vincent takes the two desk legs he’s holding and claps the two of them together. In his right hand is a weapon now twice as powerful as the one his new-found comrades have. The woman down the hall stops dead in her tracks and appears to be mesmerized by something.

Vincent, Jules and Stanley could not see her eyes, but they all know what she is looking at. They could hear the faint sound of a cold drawl of breath come from the dark casm where the woman’s face should be. Suddenly she begins to run towards the three of them at full speed. The clip-clopping of her heels grows louder and faster as she approaches. This is like watching a runway model run the length of the stage with murderous intent. At half the distance she was before from them it would appear as though her arms are outstretched in front of her. Vincent holds the two desk legs like he’s Babe Ruth. No one takes their eyes off of the running woman. At a quarter of the distance away, Stanley wonders if he’ll recognize this person as well. The woman’s heels disappear from view for a second. She has reached the three stairs. There is a drop of three feet in the hallway. It is a sort of marker for where the old school was and the addition is. The tall woman takes to the three steps at full speed and then just a quickly falls flat on her face. She falls so fast and so suddenly that the sound of her head hitting the ground was a lot like throwing a frozen watermelon on the ground.

The woman lay a ways not far from where the threesome stands. Vincent is half –amused at what he just saw and motions for his shocked compatriots to follow him towards her. Slowly they pass the main entrance of the school and then the offices and now they stand over the motionless woman. Vincent examines her while she lay still and face down. She is taller then Vincent is. She is indeed, wearing a skirt and dirtied brown and red sweater. There are runs in her panty hose as well and a thick and rank black and brown substance that could only mean loss of bowel control. One of her black high heels rests broken on the ground just behind her. Looks like Cinderella lost her balance leaving the ball. There is a lot of blood surrounding her curly red hair. Judging from the upward direction the blood appears to have sprayed, it looks as though the woman forehead split open right through her skull. Vincent kneels down to the woman and Jules takes several steps back. Stanley stands silent and once again appears uncomfortable. Vincent places his desk legs on the ground and rolls the woman onto her back. Their thoughts were correct. A large mass of hair, skin and skull remain in the circle of blood and the woman’s brain sat like a victim of a car crash might rest half out a windshield. Vincent could let her rest now on her back and he looks into her face. Stanley can’t help but want to know so he stares at her half-a-face as well. Her nose is broken, her teeth smashed, crusted blood glazes her jaw and purple blood is oozing from the fist sized opening on her forehead. There’s a large rip in the center of her chest and wide and deep cut between her breasts. In her left arm there is also a large chunk of her bicep missing as though she had been bitten there as well. A once fairly attractive older woman now turned into a bloody mess. Her eyes are wide open like examining those who are examining her. Stanley needs not another moment to recognize her. He had a feeling he knew who she was back when she stood at the other end of the hall. However, Stanley did not want to admit it. If she could be dead along with Wayne and the leg Wayne was holding then what hope was there for anyone else he had known.

“That’s Mrs. Nielson.” Stanley said painfully.

“Teacher?” Vincent ventured.

“Cosmetology.”

“You took cosmetology?” Vincent chuckles to lighten the mood.

“No!” Stanley says a little too loudly.

“Quiet!” Jules calls from her hiding place behind Stanley.

“I just know that she’s the Cosmetology teacher cause…I kind of had a…you know. Lets go back.”

“Wait! Kind of had a what?” Vincent taunts.

Stanley says nothing.

“A crush.” Vincent ventures once again and for the first time since they met, Stanley sees Vincent smile. “You crushing on your teacher, boy?” Vincent shed his Italian accent and spoke in a mock Southern accent, “We don’t take kindly to student/teacher relations round here!”

Stanley and Jules almost laugh after not looking at Ms. Neilson for a while.

“Well look at her,” Stanley gestures to Ms. Neilson’s entire body the way a game-show model would emphasize the beauty of a king-size bed.

Vincent however, refers to her from only the neck up. “She looks pretty gross to me.”

“I mean before she came down with the sickness.” Stanley says as though that should be obvious. “She was the school MILF. Every guy in the school had a crush on her.”

“I guess. I could see that.” Vincent half-heartedly agreed.

Looking just behind where the woman fell there are three descending stairs that the woman clearly and unsuccessfully tried to ascend.

“Looks like the crazy bitch couldn’t get up three little stairs in those shoes.” Vincent deduced before calling to the dead woman, “Don’t wear ‘em till you learn to work ‘em bitch!”

At that moment is when Jules, Stanley and Vincent realize where they are standing. On the other side of the wall to their right is the South Gym. From inside the gym they can all hear the sound of movement and echoes of raspy breath.

"Can we leave now?" Jules begins to back away from Ms. Neilson.

"And go where?" Vincent taunts.

A knock on the other side of the gym door answers his question, anywhere but here.

The knocking sound continues now at both doors to either side of where the three survivors stand.

"Lets go!" Vincent concedes as he stands from over top of Ms. Neilson. Vincent looks down at Ms. Neilson to discover that as he stands over her her eyes are following his every move.

Chapter 25: Last Man Standing

2010-03-25T00:23:00.000-07:00

The three henchmen continued to eat the flesh from the bones on Walter’s arms legs and ribs. Albert seems to be examining what was left of Walter’s head. Walter’s lower jaw was crushed completely. The upper portion of his head sort of popped off when Albert pushed it in. Walter is very dead, but one of his eyes remains open, blood shot and seemingly staring right into Albert black visage. Albert takes his left index finger and thumb and pushes them into Walter’s eye sockets as though fitting his hand into the perfect bowling ball. Albert stands and takes the top portion of Walter’s head with him.

A sound can be heard from somewhere on the second floor of this warehouse. Albert can somehow sense the vibrations. Albert can’t smell or see anything. If his tongue was still there he wouldn’t be able to taste anything either. Somehow Albert can still hear. Out in the hallway Albert begins to move towards the sounds. Direction is the only interpretation he can make. At the balcony over looking the rest of the warehouse Albert stops for a moment, turns left and continues towards Mel’s office. Albert is still wearing a steel chair arm tied to his right arm, and the top of Walter’s head on his left hand. The vibrations grow more and more.

* * * * *

“THIS IS NOT YOUR CITY ANYMORE,” The Commissioner screamed into the phone. “IT BELONGS TO THEM.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Mel threateningly enquired to panic-stricken voice on the other end of Albert’s cellphone.

“We’ve been… judged.” The Commissioner whimpered and then the line went dead. NO SIGNAL

Mel could hear an explosion in the distance followed by the frightened screams of an old man coming from one of the rooms just down the balcony and around the corner from where he is now. Not fazed by the scream a little boy he heard earlier, this old man however sounded very unsettling. That coupled with what the commissioner had had the balls to say made Mel made him feel uneasy.

As Mel got up from his chair he could hear the tiny footsteps of someone hurrying across the warehouse floor. Mel stepped out onto the balcony over looking the floor level of the large warehouse. At the sight of what was left Mel’s skin turned white. There was blood everywhere but it didn’t belong to the girl or her boy. Mel knew this because he was watching that very girl search the pockets of a headless corpse while her son stood by. Mel was more shocked at the sight of the headless corpse. Despite the fact that Joe’s suit was similar in style and color to everyone else’s Mel somehow new that he was looking at the dead body of his only heir.

“Joe?” Mel whimpered aloud. Where is everybody?

A clanging sound from down the hall does not stop Mel. He goes back into his office grabs his 9mm gun and gets back to the balcony. But now there are two people on the balcony. With every intention of shooting the girl and her son from above Mel steps with purpose until he sees him. Albert is standing on the balcony as well. The girl and her son are gone. At the sight of Albert standing in front of the only exit there is, Mel is gripped by a feeling he hasn’t felt since… forever, fear.

Dear God! What is happening here.

Mel was standing there when Albert was killed. Fuck! I gave the order. But now Albert stands overlooking the balcony as well. Dead and somehow alive at the same time. How can this be? What the hell is going on here? Mel slowly steps back through the door of his office. He shuts the door and locks it. Stepping backwards towards his desk Mel’s eyes shrink on the frightening sight. A shadow slowly passes behind the faded windows and stops at the door. Mel takes aim at the head of the shadow and fires.

BANG!

The shot goes through the glass and just pass the head of Albert. Albert doesn’t move. Mel aims again, this time using the little sight of his 9mm and fires again.

BANG! Ting!

The bullet hits its mark. The shot goes through glass and straight towards the centre of Albert’s forehead. Mel lowers his smoking gun. The glass window shatters and falls to reveal Albert’s new form to Mel. Albert stumbles back and forth like a college student the day after St. Patrick’s Day. Then Albert falls forward taking out the wooden door and colliding on top of it on to the office floor. Mel stands over Albert feeling slightly victorious and very confused. But then Mel sees what Albert had brought with him. In Albert’s left hand is the top portion of Walter’s head. Mel drops his gun beside Albert’s head.

* * * * *

Behind the wheel of Joe’s car the mother managed to calm her son down. Andy couldn’t stop rubbing his right eye. It felt like the spoon was still there. The mother turned the car out of the former industrial area towards the city. She was hurt a little but her son needs to get his eye checked.

Then it hits her like a ton of bricks.

What happened back there? The logic and reason that she has grown up and known all her years has become a lie. In this life she has known many things to be false except one thing: Death. But now that is untrue as well. What’s next? She cries behind the wheel, but tries to compose herself for her son’s sake. Foolishly she thinks to herself, I need to get Andy to a Hospital.

* * * * *

A tear swells in Mel’s right eye as the room starts to spin. The loss of Mel’s power and influence is beginning to sink in. He sits back behind his desk and begins to mourn his empire. There suddenly in the doorway are Albert’s other fallen comrades. The former Casper, Wolf and Raptor all with mouths hanging open and flesh on their breath.

“Oh, fuck me!” Mel says aloud. They’re all dead men for as far as appearances go.

Mel stands to give it one last shot. He races around his desk to get his gun. But another dead man stops him. Albert rises to his feet and towers before Mel. Mel stares in disbelief and loses control of his bodily functions. Mel retreats backwards towards his desk chair and sits down. His lower lip quivers as he let out a frightened squeal like that of a pig being gutted alive.

“Fuck me!” Mel says aloud, “I s-suppose your g-g-going to… kill me, r-r-right Al?” The question is not answered by anyone in the room. The sight of Albert’s dismembered face and subsequent silence sends a chill like a jug of ice water down Melvin’s back. The voice of the panic-stricken Commissioner, This city belongs to them, plays in Mel’s head.

Mel looks at the other three former employee’s.

This city belongs to them, Echoes of truth.

Mel looks at the head dangling from Albert’s left hand and instantly begins to sob like a baby.

“D-d-d-daddy?” Mel cries towards the head.

Albert does not react to Mel’s sudden fit of mourning. Mel looks up at Albert.

“You limey fucker,” Mel stands one step from Albert with anger burning through tearful eyes, “I’m g-g-going... to... f-fuck... fucking kill you!”

In one last foolish effort Mel tries to dive over the desk towards the gun. But Casper and Wolf each grab one of his wrists and Albert pins him to the desk by his shoulders. The diamonds cut into his stomach. With his feet still on the ground but his body pressed against the desk Mel watches in horror as Casper moves his mouth towards Mel’s left wrist and Wolf takes a bite out of his right wrist.

“No! FUCK, NOOOAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!, Mel screams in agony so loud it sends a rash down his throat. The cartilage and bone breaks apart with every bite and twist that is made. Finally the two henchmen pull Mel’s hands right off almost at the same time.

The pain of having both hands severed at the wrist causes Mel’s legs to go weak. Casper and Wolf both stand and continue to eat the flesh off of their hand sandwich’s while Raptor looks on and groans to their victory. Albert brings his head down towards the back of Mel’s head, but Mel slumps down on his knees behind the desk. Both the bloody wrist stumps rest a top the desk and Mel hangs his head down between his arms. Albert steps around the desk and looks down towards his old boss. The chair has been pushed back to the wall shelf behind the desk. A man slumped on the floor, both hands severed…

“Oh God, just kill me.” Mel cries.

Albert kneels down and takes Mel into his arms in a reverse bear-hug. Just as he had to Joe, Albert pins Mel’s head to his chest and bites down with his upper jaw. Albert’s teeth sink into the left side of Mel’s head while Albert pushes down on Mel’s shoulders with one hand. Mel grits his teeth so tight that they break and four of them going flying out of his mouth. Mel’s head separates completely from his body. The body quakes and jitters for a moment and then falls dead to the floor.

Albert stands with Mel’s head in his mouth. He shakes his left hand and Walters head falls by the neck of Mel’s body. Albert lifts his head and Mel’s head falls under the desk. There is no noise. No rhythms to indicate there is anything more to be done in this warehouse.

Slowly Albert and other three henchmen wander out of the warehouse. An explosion is heard in the distance. It came from the city again. The other three groan and Albert begins to walk towards the city, the direction the explosion sound came from. It is late afternoon. The four henchmen will reach the city of South Lake Gardens by nightfall. By then the city will belong to them. It won’t be long before the rest of the world does too.

THE END

Note From The Author II

2010-02-08T18:19:00.000-08:00

Well that brings the story of Jawless to a close... almost. If you've been paying attention then you know that there is one more person still alive in the warehouse. I will post the closing chapter very soon. I"m hoping that you are wondering where Jawless and the other three are headed after the close of this story.

Don't worry Jawless' story is not over.

I will also post a teaser chapter from Book 3 of the I, Undead universe.

The plan is to pique interest in the series with this story as the lightning rod. There is also a graphic novel version of a short opening scenario in the works (props to L.E.)

I don't want to give away too much though, but it'll be worth the wait.

Thank you for reading, take care and stay Undead!

Chapter 24: Salvation From a Deadman

2010-02-08T18:01:00.000-08:00

Now the mother is running back towards the center of the warehouse with her son Andy hand in hand and right beside her. As they get closer to the bloody mess surrounding the table the mother slows to a walk.

“Close your eyes sweetheart.” She says to Andy, “Just follow me.”

She walks towards the headless corpse lying near the mangled steel chair and the various splashes of blood, bone and flesh. She kneels down over the body and lets go of Andy’s hand while saying, “Keep you eyes closed honey.”

The mother sticks her hands in the left pants pocket of the headless gunman. Nothing. She leans further over the body and sticks her left hand in the right pants pocket. She grips a steel ring with her index finger and pulls. The clanging sound of little steel objects smacking against each other is a beautiful sound. The mother happily examines the headless gunman’s keys and gives a, “Thank God,” at the sight of one key with the side profile of a galloping horse engraved on it.

The mother stands and grasps Andy’s hand. They walk a short distance and she says, “You can open your eyes honey, but don’t look back, okay. Don’t you dare look back behind us.”

“Okay…(sniff)…mom.” Andy finally says while opening is eyes.

Andy’s vision is blurry. He blinks several times and whips his eyes with the sleeve of his blue pajamas. The corner of his right eye has stopped bleeding but still stings. The sensation reminds Andy of what could have been.

“Don’t look back sweetheart. Mommy’s got you.” She says trying to sooth her child. She knows what’s coming. Andy is so young.

As soon as they are outside the warehouse the mother picks up her son and embraces him. Andy loses it. He cries aloud over her shoulder. Holding his mother so tight with a mixture of relief and fear Andy’s soft, sweet, five-year-old-voice sobs.

“I thought he was going to kill me mommy. He was trying to kill me.”

Andy’s cries over her shoulder bring the mother back to that place where humans know they are human by how they feel. The mother lets out her own tears.

“I know honey,” she says soft and warmly. “But, he is gone now. He can’t hurt you. The boogieman is dead.”

“I was so scared mommy. I thought they hurt you too. Did they hurt you mom?” Andy sobs.

“They didn’t hurt me sweetie, I promise. They tried but the big one with the black hood saved me.”

“He said he would.” Andy cries.

She is taken a back by Andy’s statement.

When? She thinks.

But the mother considers how traumatizing the last day has been for her son. Instead of enquiring about any encounter Andy may have had with the big man they called Albert, she just holds her son tighter. With all that she has been through her son, Andy is going to have nightmares about a greasy, fat, old man holding a spoon. What could she possibly say to him now?

She switches to holding Andy in a way that he can see her eyes.

“Andy?” She asks. Are you okay?

“I’m so scared mom.” Andy says wiping the tears from his eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid. I am going to protect you honey. I’ll always be here to protect you.”

Chapter 23: Mother Vs. Walter

2010-02-08T17:58:00.000-08:00

It is now, as Walter is lost, frightened and astonished in the eyes of Joe’s severed head that he finally notices the loud clatter of many footsteps running up the stairs from the warehouse below. The sight of Joe’s head must have distressed Walter somewhat cause his eyes are beginning to tear. Behind the foggy glass surrounding the room Walter watches as a slim dark silhouette runs for dear life followed closely by a much larger and slower shadow.

The mother passes the window she had broken with Joe’s head and looks in as she passes. She could see Walter for less then a half a second.

You fucker! She thinks to herself as she sprints left around a corner

The mother knows which room her son is in. The slim shadow gets some time and distance from the larger shadow that pursues her. She turns another corner outside the room and bursts through the door of the old staffroom. The mother stops dead in her tracks at the sight of Walter standing opposite of her with a table much like the one downstairs between them. This table, however, has a rabid severed head clicking its’ teeth on it. She stands still for only half a second, blood-covered, ripped-white-shirt-wearing, skinny, young, blonde woman. She is looking for her son Andy, but she is not alone for long.

With the exception of Andy whom is still frightened on the floor, everybody is moving at the same time. The mother rounds to her left around the table towards her son holding the knife in a threatening manner and not taking her eyes of Walter. Anger pumps adrenaline through her veins and feeds the fury that has been built up in her over the last day. She is so close to the finish line, deep breath. Walter returns her stare and walks to his left around the opposite side of the table towards the door. Walter clearly believes that somehow the mother escaped and has been chased into a corner by his allies. Walter is somewhat comforted by his assumption. At the sight of the mother wearing a white tank-top and long skirt now covered in blood, Walter begins to chuckle.

“Been twenty-eight days already?” He laughs.

The mother makes a “fuck you, you’re not funny” smirk at Walter as she now stands a few feet from her son. Walter fails to notice that he now has his back to the door she had come in through. Albert and the others pour into the room so quickly that they knock Walter over and land on top of him like he has the football.

Before Andy could see anything his mother picks him up and lifts him through the open hole she made in the window. As she cuts her hands carelessly trying to get through the window as quickly as possible, she hears Walter say his last words.

“What the hell you guys? I think you sprained my-AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!” Reid bites down hard into the back of Walter’s neck while holding down both of his arms.

Albert gets up and grabs Walter by either side of his head. Albert pushes down on the back of Walter’s head with his left hand and begins to sloppy-punch Walter in the back of the head with his right hand. From the pressure and punching sensation Walter is feeling, which breaks his nose against the floor, it is as though Albert is trying to crush his skull like a cantaloupe. The steel chair-arm clangs on the floor with every slam Albert’s gives with his hand. David and Tala each grabbed one of Walter’s legs. They bite into them first and then pull the two legs right off, almost in unison. The sensation of pain causes Walter’s eyes to widen as he stares directly at dust particles on the floor. Albert stops punching Walter for a moment and brings his teeth down into the back of Walter’s head. Having no bottom row of teeth to bite down with, the loosened flesh is of no use to Albert. He lifts his head up while moaning. Walter only need endure this for two more seconds.

Albert presses both hands down onto the back of Walter’s head. Under the crushing force of Albert’s entire upper body, Walter’s skull cracks sending sharp fragments of bone through every inch of his brain. Albert lets out a moan as if satisfied to have his hands submerged in the blood, brain and boney mess that used to be Walter’s head.

The mother looks back through the open window at the popping sound of Walter’s head being crushed like a watermelon.

“Yeeesh! She says. He’s dead… Sick fucker!

Chapter 22: The Four Henchmen

2010-02-08T17:25:00.000-08:00

Under the table in the center of the warehouse, soaked in her sweat and the blood of almost everyman in the room, the mother thought hard and fast of what she could do to save her son. She tried not to think of what Walter was doing to Andy, she needs to save him. Albert is closest to the Tala and the driver is walking around the table to meet the last gunman’s other side. Tala pumps the handle on the shotgun again, but does not get a chance to choose who he is going to shoot. The mother reaches up from under the table and pulls the barrel of the gun down on top of the table.

KA-BOOM!

The shot hit nothing but the cold steel table that earlier looked like a display from a surgical catalogue for coroners.

“YOU BITC-Ack!” The last gunman didn’t get to finish his sentence.

The mother let her hand off the barrel of the shotgun and wrapped both her hands around his ankles. With all her strength, the mother pulls the pair Gucci shoes and matching black slacks towards her. In less than a heartbeat Tala is knocked out cold by the hard cement floor. The shotgun is resting now on the floor. Tala is approached from both sides, Albert on his left and David on his right. The two men once known as Jawbreaker and Casper knelt down on either side of the unconscious Wolf as if giving worship to their next meal. David lifts the gunman’s black shirt and bites down into his stomach. Then David digs his hands into the hole he made and tears the skins back like he is parting a pair of curtains. Tala awakens quickly from his short slumber and tries to wail in pain, but Albert places his entire right hand into his mouth. The Mother looks away but the sounds of what’s happening tell an equally gruesome tale. Tala’s eyes go blood shot rapidly until both eyes look as black as eight-balls. His jaw cracks as it unhinges from his jaw. Albert’s arm quivers for a second and then with a violent jolt his right arm goes flying back and Tala’s head comes off the ground for a second. Albert throws a bloody mass of flesh on the ground behind him.

The mother looks back at the three men and instantly gasps in horror. Tala’s tongue along with other unknown pieces of his insides now lay on the floor behind Albert. Albert is still over Tala’s head trying to feed his open neck wound yet again. David’s face has disappeared into Tala’s stomach. The mother sits frightened under the table in front of both of Tala’s twitching feet. She knows it could not be long before Albert and the David discover her sitting there. If for some reason they were willing to cannibalize their former friend, than what would they do to her?

What is happening here? She thinks

Something small and shiny makes its presents known to the mother through the corner of her eye. She turns her head towards Reid’s mutilated body and there at his feet lays the knife that she used on him. Carefully she reaches towards the knife and happens on yet another horrific sight. As her right hand grasps the handle of the bloodied blade, the mother watches as Reid raises his entire upper body off the ground like Dracula. She stifles her scream and backs away back under the table. Reid is seated on his butt on the floor not moving. Reid’s dark-black complexion is creepily, contrasted by foggy-white eyes. His white eyes are just staring at her. Albert and David may not see her, but Reid does. The wound on Reid’s neck stopped bleeding but is still very disgusting. His mouth is just hanging open like he is shocked to see the mom moving away from him. The mother inches silently out from the other end of the table towards the head and headless body of Joe. She can hear movement behind her.

Ewww! This is so digusting! She thinks

The mother grabs the head of Joe by his thick black hair. At first, she tries to grip it like she would a dead mouse; two fingers pinching a bit of hair lightly. But Joe’s head is too heavy. She grabs a hand full of hair. The thought of what she is about to do freaks her out.

Oh my God! This is insane!

The mother stands holding a knife in her left hand and Joe’s head in her right. What has become of Mel’s henchmen feeds between her and the stairs. Albert and David feeding on the Tala and Reid is still seated on his ass watching her as if hypnotized by her presence… or daring her to move. The mother takes a wide journey to walk towards the stairs that Mel, Walter and her son, Andy were last seen ascending. She can’t hear anything from the upper level as she walks backwards towards the stairs. The stairs are still quite a ways from her even though she has put considerable distance between herself and her bloodied attackers. She turns her back on Albert and the others and continues towards the stairs. The mother is much closer to the upper floor now and can see nothing through the oxidized glass windows that line the entire upper level. A nashing sound coming from her right hand causes her to stop from fear againShe takes a look back at the crew that had brought her here.

OH SHIT!

All four of the men are standing straight up. With the exception of Albert whom can’t see from under his black hood, but somehow still knows his way around, they are all staring straight at her.

Albert stands in front of the other three. Albert’s appearance is more threatening then ever. His black trench coat is shredded with bloodied bullet holes. His white undershirt is now red. The black hood Albert is wearing stops anyone from seeing what his eyes look like. The hood ends just under his nose and above his upper lip, which has retracted to expose his blood red upper row of teeth. The chair arm still tied to his right arm dangles like a hook.

David stands behind Albert at his left side. His jaw is broken off and his mouth hangs open much like Tala’s does due to his suffering a similar attack at the hand of Albert. It is clear that David can use his jaw but his tongue is also missing. Reid stands beside Tala’s right side. Reid’s has a large rip in his neck. His neck wound is a lot like Albert’s, except Albert’s neck is thicker and Reid still has his lower jaw even though it’s broken. Tala stands slightly behind Albert’s right side. He has had his jaw broken by Albert as well. What makes him stand apart from the rest though is the huge hole in his stomach made effortlessly by David. From under Tala’s shirt every organ below his heart hangs in front of his pants like wind chimes. It would appear that what ever they are now, they have no use for their bodies’ organs.

At her distance away from them, the mother can hear the four men all make a sort of lifeless cold drawl of breath. Sounds like a good breeze hitting a rusted and far-from-in-tune pipe organ. She looks down at the head in her left hand. Startled she drops the head to the floor as she realizes that it is alive.

What in the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck! She thinks.

The moment the head had impacted the floor, the four men started to walk towards her. She picks the head back up. The head of the Joe starts snarling and making nasty biting sounds with its’ mouth. The mother turns as she can hear her son screaming for mercy.

“Andy?!?!?!” She frightfully whispers.

She turns her head back towards the open warehouse and her heart pounds upon her stomach at the sight of the four men running towards her. She turns to run, but as she does she decides to put the head in her left hand to good use. Just like how she used to teach kids when she was in high school. She swings the head around in a big circle twice before releasing it to the air. The head sails through the warehouse up towards the window on the second floor. The mother could hear the head crash through a window just as she reached the base of the steps. She takes a quick look to her right to see that Albert and the others are so close to her that all they need to do is hope she’ll extend her arm towards them. The mother holds up the dress from catching under her feet and takes the steps two at a time. In a flash she has reached the top. The clattering sound of sole on steel tells her that Albert is right behind her and the David, Reid and Tala are right behind him.

Chapter 21: Preying On Innocence

2010-02-05T18:43:00.000-08:00

Since bringing Andy up to one of the old rooms for some “privacy,” Walter at first did nothing more than verbally abuse the child. A blessing by comparison, but to Walter, verbal abuse is like foreplay. The room they are in looks like it used to be a staff room of some kind. It is very large and overlooks the rest of the warehouse through several rectangular windows that line the entire room. In fact, if Walter was interested he could look down and see what the three gunmen are doing to Andy’s mother. Or he would see something else entirely. But that doesn’t interest Walter. Since bringing Andy into the room Walter has clubbed his kneecaps with a small stick of wood and smacked him several times in the face.

“You remind me of me when I was your age Andy,” Walter states. “Except for the brown hair. I was a skinny little runt too.”

Andy didn’t know where this was going and he didn’t care. Fear kind of takes away ones willingness to figure things out.

“See this spoon Andy?” Walter gestures from standing across the room, “It doesn’t know what cereal feels like”

Andy sits with his knees in his chest and sobs at the thought of what that could mean. Now Andy could figure that out.

“Nice pajama’s Andy, hope they don’t stain,” Walter teases as turns away towards a sink and cleans the spoon with a towel.

“So! Think the boys will leave anything left of your mother? Mother! You know I had a mother once. She wanted to have me committed after what I did to the cute little kitten she bought me. You see, Daddy was trying to train me to follow in his footsteps. Mommy didn’t like that. She tried to nurture the softer side of me.”

Walter turns around and looks at Andy. Andy’s face is tucked into his arms.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you Andy.”

Andy doesn’t look or move.

“LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

Andy’s head shot up so fast he hit his head on the wall behind him.

“Ow!” Andy says rubbing the back of his dome.

“Careful, Andy! You should really respect your elders. There are lessons we can teach the generations to come. And the lesson I leave for your generation is…”

Walter crosses the floor and bends down holding the spoon at Andy’s face. Walters grabs Andy by his hair and pins his head to the wall.

“… Some people don’t have a softer side. In fact, I feed off of the hope of you people. I was on death row, you know? But people cried that I was misunderstood. There is still hope for me. Well! This is what I’m doing with hope… with innocence. I’m going to take this spoon and dig out your face with all the sympathy my bitch of a mother gave to me. As I sent her sailing off the balcony of a hotel in Vegas I breathed in her screams. Screams like sweet music. Oh, how I have tried to recreate that perfect soundtrack. Scream for me Andy!”

A shotgun blast echo’s from behind Andy.

Walter lets go of Andy, stands up and back a few steps.

“Geez! I don’t know why, but that scared the crap out of me.” Walter confesses. “Sounds like your mom just got her left tit blown off.”

* * * * *

Melvin Maroni sits in a very elegant and newly finished office. He looks up from the diamonds on his desk at the sound of the shotgun blast.

“Done fucking her already boys?” Mel says to himself. “It’s only been five minutes.”

Mel goes back to jewels on his desk.

“Fucking minute men!”

* * * * *

Andy gives a look of wonderment and fear from the blast. Walter lets a look of puzzlement slip.

Albert’s already dead. What could they be shooting at? There is only the mom… Walter thinks.

Another loud shotgun blast is heard.

“Oh, there goes the right one.” Walters laughs again.

Andy continues to cry and cowards against the wall overlooking the warehouse, Still, Andy is hugging his knees against his chest. Walter stands over Andy holding the spoon in about as threatening a manner as one could hold a spoon. Walter kneels back down on his left leg and grabs Andy by his sweaty hair. Walter holds the spoon close to Andy’s left eye. Andy’s head jerks left and right, with fearful force but does not move enough to avoid what’s coming. Andy needs a miracle. Another shotgun blast is heard but Walter doesn’t even acknowledge it at all.

“Now this is going to happen Andy whether you want it to or not.” Walter says in a cold low voice that is less and less like his usually old man tone.

The scoop of the spoon is so close to Andy’s terrified left eye that Walter is smiling evil upon the reflection of the spoon that now appears across Andy’s eyeball. The edge of the spoon presses slowly and painfully in that small space to the left side of Andy’s left eyeball. Andy’s hands grab Walters forearm and he tries to stop the spoon. His fingers dig into Walters skin but Walter doesn’t slow at all. Andy bites his bottom lip and lets out moan of overwhelming discomfort. Andy tries desperately to keep himself from screaming. Walter pushes the spoon between Andy’s right eye and its’ socket.

“Come on Andy. SCREAM FOR MEEEEE!”

Walter twists the spoon a little but just enough to send a surge of pain coursing though Andy’s little mind. Andy can’t hold it back anymore.

“eeeeeEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” Andy’s painful song echoes into all corners of the building.

Walter takes his hand off the spoon and just stares at Andy. Little Andy has a single tear of blood coming out from underneath the spoon. The spoon rests on its’ side protruding from the right side of Andy’s right eye.

“Please stop! Please stop! I didn’t do anything.” Andy finally speaks to Walter, “Uhh! I want my mommy!”

“Your mommy?” Walters says putting his hand on the spoon, “Your mom is dead. And that was so good that we’re just getting started.”

“NO! PLEASE!” Andy screams aloud again.

Just a moment before Walter was about to press the spoon into Andy’s skull, something happens that stops him yet again. There’s the sound of a lot of glass breaking and Walter’s head, shoulder and back are showered with broken glass. Something thuds onto the table behind him and stops. Walter pulls the spoon out of Andy’s face. Andy has small fragments of glass in his hair too, but the spoon is now a few inches away. Walter is so distracted by this strange happening that he stands straight up to assess the change in his surroundings. Before Walter’s knee’s aligned his legs in the upright position he could see what came crashing through the window over his head. It is a human head. A human head much like the one that belonged to Tony. Walter remembers happily tossing that head about the air in a small apartment just one day ago. But this head had it’s back to Walter and it did not belong to Tony. Walter could tell as he approached the table that the head did not belong to Albert either, the only person, Walter thought, that was dead in the building. Albert’s head is shaved and this head has shaggy black hair. Much like the head gunman, Joe.

Walter places his right hand on the side of the head and spins it like a record almost exactly 180 degrees until the lifeless eyes were looking into his. The face of Joe is staring at Walter. Walter jumps back from the severed head on the table, because what is stranger than a head flying through a window and landing on a table is having that head try to bite you. The lifeless head of Joe on its’ side is looking at Walter with so much hatred in its’ eyes.

“What in the?” Walter says aloud, “What the hell happened down there?”

Chapter 20: 6:10pm

2010-02-05T17:18:00.000-08:00

Mel is seated in his fancy office, which looks like it should be a room in the White House, not a warehouse. As promised he picks up the phone and calls the man who gave him Albert. The direct line to the Commissioner is busy. Hang up. Dial again… busy! The line to the station itself is busy as well. The only option was to call the Commissioner directly on his own private cell-phone. But calling from the land-line in the warehouse is risky. Mel reaches to the end of his desk where all the possessions that were in the pockets of a large, very English, very dead hitman lay. Mel picks up Albert’s cellphone and pushes the” on.” An image that looks like Tahiti appears with time at the bottom, 6:10pm. Mel holds down the button and dials out to the Commissioners cellphone. There is still no answer.

Very strange, Mel thinks to himself.

He places the cellphone back down on the upper right end of his classic antique wooden desk. The Mp3 player next to the car keys catches his eye and curiosity.

Lets see what kind of music the young chap would play.

* * * * *

“What the hell have I…” Joe groans as he looks down at the steel leg protruding from his chest.

It’s Albert! Tala and Reid think.

Albert is exactly as he was when they killed him a few minutes earlier. But now Albert is upright and has enough energy to drive the arm of a steel chair through the heart of a grown man. Albert, it appears, is not done yet though. The steel protrusion disappears through the hole it made and Albert grabs the anguished Joe by his head. Albert turns Joe’s head sideways and hugs it into his chest just under where his lower jaw used to be. Still wearing his black hood, Albert drops his head to his chest pinning Joe’s head under his upper row of teeth.

Joe screams in agony as Albert’s teeth chomp into the side of his skull. For a moment it appears as though Albert is trying to eat Joe’s head in one bite. Albert lifts his head for a second and let’s out a groan that appears to come out of frustration. Then Albert sinks his teeth into the marks he made a moment earlier. Blood trickles down the side of Joe’s face. The rest of Joe’s body jerks as his cries of pain are paused by a cough of blood.

With one hand on each shoulder Albert presses down with all his might. Joe’s screams continue for only a short moment before his neck stretches then rips. The spine breaks like wood and his head is completely severed from his body. Joe’s throat tears as his lungs empty his last breath. The body dangles for a moment by the two major arteries on either side of Joe’s neck. Joe’s eyes widen and his pupils shrink. As the two arteries snap from the weight of his body, Joe’s jaw snaps shut so fast and hard it would take a crow bar to reopen it. The headless body drops to the concrete floor like a sack of fire logs. Albert stands before Tala, Reid and the mother with his head still lowered keeping severed head of Joe held against his chest.

The two men on either side of the table stare frozen. The mother is frozen as well. Fear grips them all, but for her. She knew what Joe was about to do as he stood between her legs. Now Joe’s dead and the man who took his head off is standing pretty close to between her legs.

What the hell is he going to do to me? She thinks.

The mother can think about it no longer. She tries to seize this opportunity to free herself. With both hands freed she searches above her head for anything she can sense by touch. Within seconds she is armed. Finding which side is the handle, she brings a knife forcefully into Reid’s neck. Reid’s neck spews blood onto her chest and neck. As though Albert can hear what is happening he lifts his own head from his chest letting Joe’s head hit the ground like a bowling ball. Albert moves quickly towards Reid. Reid covers his neck with both hands and stumbles backwards. Reid pulls the knife out of his throat and it hits the ground beneath the table by the mother’s right side. Reid’s hands turn red with his own blood. Tala reacts by bringing his shotgun up in the air with the butt pointed at the mother’ face. She turns her head just in time to see Tala.

“You… (spits and coughs) Fucking bitch!” Reid mutters just before he disappears behind Albert’s monstrous form.

SLAM!

The butt of Tala just misses the mother’s head as she rolls off the side of the table away from him. The mother hears the table being hit behind her as she lands on all fours on the floor beneath Reid and Albert. Her hands, feet and knees slam into a floor covered in blood. She looks at the blood on her hands and then to her left. Beyond the struggling Albert and Reid next to the chair she was bound to is the body of David the driver. His mouth has been forced further than it can possibly open. Blood has poured out his open jaw so much that it reaches a round him and into where Reid’s struggle with Albert causes him to bleed out more. The mother is now hunched on the floor staring into his lifeless and completely bloodshot eyes of the driver. There is a huge gash across the drivers exposed cheek as well. From the way his mouth is open it looks as though his attacker jammed a hook or fist down David’s throat and pulled out whatever his hand griped on. The mother can’t see it, but the driver’s tongue is gone.

The mother can hear the Tala reloading his shotgun from the other side of the table. In a foolish bid of hope she recoils to a sitting position hugging her knee’s into her chest under the table. Albert has taken Reid and his horrible neck wound to the ground. Albert straddles Reid’s chest and grabs one of his wrists in each hand, pulling Reid’s hands off of the stab wound on his neck. Blood spurts towards the missing portion of Albert’s face. Having his enemy’s blood pour into his open neck causes Albert to relax for a moment from the struggle and completely numbs Reid from blood loss. Albert releases Reid’s arms and before Reid can react, Albert digs like into the open stab wound with all ten fingers. Reid lets out one last horrible scream as his neck wound is violently widened. Blood sprays in every direction for only a few seconds before Reid’s arms fall limp and he begins to twitch.

Tala watches and fumbles as his shaking hands try to reload his shotgun. A couple of live shells hit the floor in his nervousness and land just near the mother’s feet. Several things happen at once: The mother looks to the driver and watches in complete astonishment as he slowly rises to his feet. His face disappears from her line of sight above the table. The driver his face still dripping with blood slowly approaches the table-side opposite Tala. Albert has killed Reid completely now. Albert is still straddling Reid’s chest and is pulling bits of flesh from Reid’s neck and trying to force-feed himself by shoving the flesh into the exposed esophagus under his upper jaw. The last gunman, Tala, pumps the shotgun and takes aim at Albert’s back.

KA-BOOM!

Albert lurches forward just a little, but gives no reaction of pain to the shot. The shell went right through his back and burst out the center of his chest spraying his blood all over Reid’s lifeless corpse. The mother turns in the direction that the shot was fired to see Albert with a fresh hole in his back and the lower half of Reid’s body sticking out from between Albert’s legs.

The mother is under the table surrounded by three men. The two of them directly in front of her appear to be walking corpses. Behind her, Tala has just noticed David, the driver, is standing.

“NO! Not quiet one, too! NO! What devils’ work.” Tala pleads fearful his time has come.

The mother just stares frightened at the legs and feet that belong to the driver. She is shaking uncontrollably. The mother can’t help but think that she had just killed a man. She wants this nightmare to be over. She hopes foolishly that whatever these men are, that they won’t discover her hiding in plain sight. Again, however, her mind is not completely thinking straight. Directly in front of her and luckily unaware that she’s hiding under the table is Albert. Tala turns his shotgun towards the driver and pumps the handle wrapped around the barrel.

“WHAT DEVILS’ WORK IS THIS?” Tala cries.

KA-BOOM!

The mother watches as the two feet of the driver stumble back just a little and blood sprays on to the floor behind him. Albert stops what he was doing to Reid and begins to stand up.

“THE DEVIL WILL NOT TAKE ME THIS WAY!” The man they used to call Wolf panics aloud.

Albert is standing now with his back to the table. The knife that the mother used to stab Reid lays just between the mother’s and Albert’s feet, still covered in blood. As Albert slowly turns to face Tala, the mother looks past the driver’s feet and sees the severed head of the Joe. She looks in front of herself and sees the knife she used on Reid.

Suddenly a sound comes from the upper level of the warehouse that causes everything that is happening on the ground level to stop. The voice of a little boy is heard screaming so loud that everyone, living and otherwise looks towards the sounds direction as it is happening. It is at this moment, when there seems like there is no chance of her getting out of this warehouse alive and with her son, that the mother thinks up her most insane idea ever.

Chapter 19: Death Becomes Him

2010-01-31T18:37:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-01-31T18:09:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-29T18:14:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-26T21:44:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-01-18T07:32:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-12T18:55:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-07T07:04:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-01-06T21:58:00.000-08:00

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.

Chapter 12: Little Andy

2009-12-29T21:43:00.000-08:00

Albert closed his eyes from frustration and regret. A million thoughts ran through his head. He knew the voice belonged to a small child. Given what the voice had said, Albert also knew that the woman before him was the child’s mother. Albert opened his eyes and stared down at Tony. Tony would be a corpse shortly. Albert grabbed the white bed sheet and pulled it over the young woman. Tony looked past Albert in the direction of the doorway.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Looks like you’re going (hic) to need Walter after all.” Tony said with a cold uncaring tone. If only Tony understood what that would mean for the boy, perhaps Tony wouldn’t have been so cavalier.

BUUURRAAAAP! A belch from Tony to shatter all records.

Nice one, Tony!

Albert shook his head in shame at Tony and turned around to see the child for the first time. The child could only weigh the same amount as one of Albert’s legs. He was five-years-old, at most. The little boy stood wearing navy blue pajamas with some sort of yellow cartoon character that has a rocket for a head patterned all over them. Albert stared for a moment at the boy and wondered, is there any chance that this boy could live?

“Your mother is sleeping. What’s your name?” Albert asked in a tone that showed heart.

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” The boy stated clearly frightened.

“Andy.” Tony slurred to Albert. “His name is Andy.” Tony motions towards the woman, “Her kid. Other then that I don’t know much about the little… (hic).”

Albert turned back and looked at the little boy named Andy.

“This is Albert, Andy. He’s a doctor and he’s come to make a (hic) house call, to fix your mommy up.”

Albert thoughts rolled on like a car stuck in a round about. Going in circles he could not decide which course to take.

What do I do? Return to Mel with money or one head, possibly two, but not a third. Not this boy. Christ! He is only five years olds! That is old enough for Walter to have his twisted fun with. What do I do? Return to Mel…

KNOCK, KNOCK!

“You doing their taxes or something in there, Al? Come on son, boss is waiting!”

The sound of Walters voice on the other side of the unlocked apartment door gave Albert clairvoyance. Now there was no choice as to which course to take. Albert let his reflexes and instincts take over and did several things in about two seconds: First, and before Tony could utter another word, Albert jabbed the needle gun into Tony’s neck and pulled the trigger. The needle came out of Tony’s neck and he dropped instantly on his back against the bed next to the female outline under the white sheets.

Please don’t scream Andy. If you do, your dead! But Andy froze of fright.

Second, and also before Andy could say anything, Albert spun and grabbed Andy holding his mouth shut and lifting his entire body off the ground. Pressed firmly against his chest Andy tried a little to kick himself free, but there was no fighting Albert.

“Al, you need help in there?” The second question of Walters was louder and accompanied by the sound of the apartment door opening.

As Albert carried Andy over to the right side of the bed he let go with one hand to put the needle gun back in the case. He then grabbed the phone cord from the wall next to the dresser and pulled it right out of wall with his right hand. All this happening well being held against his will frightened Andy more then he had ever felt before. If Albert’s skull-palming hand wasn’t over Andy’s mouth, Andy would be heard screaming for miles.

The sound of Walter shutting the door could be heard. Albert had little time now. He said the only words he could think of to calm Andy down.

“I am here to save you Andy. That man coming in here is the boogieman. If he finds you here he will kill you, painfully. I need you to lay flat on your face on this cot, and cover your ears while I slide you under the bed. No matter what you may feel or hear, do not move. If he finds you, I can’t protect you.”

Before Albert finished his whispers he felt the vibrations of Andy’s muted screams against his hand stop. Albert took his hand off Andy’s mouth.

“Protect me? You hurt mommy’s friend.” Andy whispered.

Walter’s footsteps indicated that he was just a few feet from the open bedroom door. Just a few feet, a few seconds and Andy’s worst nightmare would begin.

“Tony?” Albert states crouched over Andy. “I’ve come to take you and your mom away from Tony. I have come to protect you, but the Boogieman is coming. The Boogieman wants Tony and whoever is with Tony so you have to hide now.” As Albert said this he flipped a more relaxed Andy on to his front and pushed the entire mattress under the bed.

“I will protect you from the Boogieman.” Albert whispered under the bed.

Chapter 11: Collecting From Tony

2009-12-23T20:09:00.000-08:00

The morning after Albert had left the Police Station he and Walter pulled up to the building that Tony resided in. Walter was wearing his fat man beach clothing again. His wrinkled freckles and his horseshoe hair is disheveled, looks like a red dust mope wrapped around his head. Walter also appeared tired.

Must have been up late jerking off to the Golden Girls, Albert thought.

At that moment Walter was eating a gyro. It was difficult for Albert to tell whether or not any of the sauce was getting in Walter’s mouth or if it all ended up on his white t-shirt. Even when Walter’s simply eating he manages to completely gross Albert out.

Why is he even here? There’s no kids here.

But Walter called him earlier and insisted that Albert pick him up. Walter said he was hungry for the gyro, but Albert had other suspisions. Ever since Albert had taken that young girls life, Walter had been acting strange… needy, one might say even nervous. Couldn’t tell right now though. He was eating that gyro as joyfully as a kid takes to ice cream on a hot day.

“Stay here,” Albert, said to Walter, “I’ll ring you up if I need you.”

Walter answers Albert by chewing with his mouth open and letting more of his gyro spill on to his shirt. Albert stood with the car door open. Albert gave Walter a ‘you’re so fucking gross’ look and shut the drivers’ door. Albert opened up the trunk of the black sedan and reached in to pick up a gun, folded white garbage bag and a second silver colored gun. Albert tucks his custom axe/scythe under his right arm. He put all the items carefully into a two-handled leather bag that looked like a large bowling ball case, zipped the bag, put it in his right hand and shut the trunk door.

* * * * *

Albert knocked twice on the brown apartment door and put his arm at his side. He then heard a familiar voice from the other side say, “It’s open.”

Albert opened the door and let himself in. The apartment was small and cramped, a few steps up the entrance hall where a large dent in the wall tells the tale of exactly one day earlier and Albert is standing where if he goes left he is in the living room which is adjoined by the kitchen and the dining area. If Albert went right, he’d find himself in the only bedroom there is. Albert went right.

There was Tony, sitting on the edge of the bed in his underwear. Just a small, balding, hairy-bodied Italian guy with a moustache staring at Albert as Albert walked in. Albert placed the case in his right hand on the four-drawer dresser. Daylight was pouring in and reflecting from the buildings outside the four windows in the room.

“Well this is good Tony. You didn’t run so that must mean you had the money all along and now I know what to do with the empty space in the case here,” Albert gestured to the leather case on the dresser. Tony didn’t say anything. “You do have the money right Tony?”

Tony shakes his head, while turning behind himself and grasping a handful of the white bed sheets in his hands. Tony pulls the bed sheet towards Albert like he is unveiling the latest year of a famous automobile. In one fluid motion what is underneath the white bed sheet is revealed: A young woman. Fair and light-skinned, her pretty blonde head and shut eyes resting on a white pillow like she is dreaming her favorite dream. Her skinny, right arm is at her side and her left arm is across her unmoving stomach. Exposed to just underneath her navel, Albert can’t help but notice that her average sized breast aren’t moving… and they’re quite nice.

Is she alive? Albert takes his eyes off the young woman’s fair form to think to himself, Tony, you sic- ass, you been screwing a corpse? Before Albert can ask anything aloud Tony spoke.

“I didn’t do anything yesterday or today to get Mel his fucking money. Could of borrowed, stole and hustled for it, but… All I did was drink and fuck. Though I think she drank more than I did. I tried to feed her enough sleeping pills in her drinks to put her down before you fuckers got here. But she passed out cold couple hours ago well I was working her from behind. I’m a gentleman so (hic) I didn’t finish.”

Albert nods in funny way, of course, very gentlemanly indeed, Tony.

As Tony was talking Albert noticed that there were empty bottles of every sort all over the place. Albert couldn’t help but feel that Tony had did what anyone who was given one day to live would have done, except Tony screwed up.

“She’s still alive (hic) … a bit anyway.” Tony slurred as he turned to look at the unmoving female form.

“She’s kind of…comatose…I guess.” Tony just stares at her before saying quite loudly, “Damn! Would you look at those titties, Al. Are those, (hic) are those not the best looking fucking tits you ever seen?” Tony’s drunkenness is quite apparent to Albert at this point. “If I had a nickel for every tittie…”

Tony’s sentence trailed off as his right hand reached back for the girls left breast.

“You know what this means don’t you Tony?” Albert’s voice stopped Tony from groping the unconscious girl. “See, I brought my case with me and if I’m not putting Mel’s money in the case then I have to put…”

“….Yeah, I know. I know. You have to put my head in the case. I know all about you and your precious fucking case.” Tony bellows indignantly. “You and your sense of simplicity (hic). Your sense of fucking…(hic)…justice or whatever.”

Albert was taken aback by what Tony was saying. Never had anyone had such balls to speak in this way before they die. Some put up a fight sure, but most of them simply begged for their life or mercy. Tony was looking death straight in the eye and saying-

“Go fuck yourself. That’s right (hic). I wanted to stay alive and conscious enough (hic) long enough to tell you, Mel and that twisted fuck Walter…where is Walter? Is he in the hallway?”

“He’s in the car.” Albert replies coolly.

“Yeah and to tell (hic) Walter and all of ya’ll to go fuck yourselves. This last twenty-four hours of my life have been the best twenty-sex hours of my life. I am going to die right now (hic) the happiest fucker on the planet. Mel can’t take that from me, can he Al?”

Albert reached for the lamp on the dresser and turned it on. “No, I guess he can’t Tony.”

“Fuckin’ right he can’t.” Tony finished indignantly as Albert walked to the right side of the bed and pulled the solid white blind all the way down past the base of the window. Albert didn’t even notice the small mattress and white woolen blanket protruding from under the bed.

“I’m not the bad person here Al (hic). Life just kept kicking me in the teeth is all. Should of stayed away from the likes of Mel I guess (hic). Gambling away his money…stupid! Twisted fuck.”

Albert listened and walked silently to the wall opposite the right side of the bed and pulled the blind of that window down as well, then the one above the window next to it. Tony watched Albert and continued to speak.

“You know I am nice guy right Al?”

“Sure Tony.” Albert replied low and sarcastically as he walked to the left side of the bed pulled the blind above the window there down as well. The only light in the room was coming from the lamp on the dresser.

‘I am a nice guy. I don’t have much but I got a… good karma. Do you know what karma (hic) is?” Tony doesn’t wait for a response before he says, “Karma for what I’ve done, I have always been there for people Al. I am always helping people (hic). I am!”

“Sure Tony.” Albert says again, sarcastically. Albert’s back at the dresser and he’s searching inside his case for something.

“I don’t worry either about revenge. About trying to fuck over the people who keep (hic) fucking me over. I know that their lives are going to punish them for me.”

Albert was listening, but he was also removing his large suede trench coat and putting on rubber gloves. He stood before Tony, whom was still seated at the edge of the bed in front of the unconscious girl. Albert reached in case.

“You will be pushed…a…I mean punished by your life Albert (hic). You’re life is going…”

In one move Albert pulled the silver gun-looking thing out of the case and held it to Tony’s neck.

“Shut up Tony or I won’t give you any of this.”

Tony looks at the silver gun down through the corners of his eyes. It’s a needle gun, with a compressed air delivery system.

“You’re going to use that to knock me out.”

“No Tony, this substance is going to kill you. The sunspot being that whatever is done next won’t hurt at all…for obvious reasons.”

“Why? (Hic).” Tony asks with wide eyes.

Albert was seriously annoyed by this question. He pushed Tony by the throat into the bed mattress, pinned Tony down, knelt over him and continued.

“Cause you stupid cunt, I’m not the sick fuck everyone thinks I am. I kill you with out this shit, it’s going to hurt a whole fucking lot. All right?!?!?”

Albert lets Tony up and stands back in front of the dresser.

“Should I shoot her up with this as well?”

“Yeah! You probably (hic) should.” Tony replied after a little thought.

Albert walked to the side of the bed where the young woman lay half exposed and still in a dead sleep. Tony watched as Albert lifted her arm to inject the needle. Albert looked back at Tony and Tony looked away from Albert. Albert pulled the silver trigger. A short popping sound is heard from the quick release of air. Albert pulled the needle back to his side. She didn’t even flinch.

Albert stood facing the girl and asked, “Any famous last words Tony?”

Tony doesn’t answer, he just stares at the floor in front of him, hands entwined between his hairy legs. Albert stares sympathetically at Tony for a moment before the silence is broken.

Albert remained with his back to the doorway. A small innocent voice was heard from the doorway behind Albert.

“Mom?”

Chapter 10: How to Fight Pure Evil

2009-12-20T17:53:00.000-08:00

After the girl lay dead on the floor and Walter began to throw a temper tantrum, Albert slumped frozen. He paid no attention to Walter. With his right hand he pulled back the girls blindfold. Her eyes miraculously seemed to be have said that she was at peace. She did not appear to be afraid like she had for the last few hours. Albert took his index finger and thumb and pulled her eyelids shut. That was when Albert started to feel a rumble in his stomach. His throat felt terrible. As though microscopic organisms were having a trillion-man march up his throat towards his nasal cavity. Albert stumbled out of the locker. He felt weak. Walters rants and screams suddenly had the volume turned down. Maybe it was the gunfire. Once outside the locker Albert grabbed a piece of the wall. Not since the time Albert had to torch his Fifth Avenue had this happened. The toilet was too far. Albert bent over. With an involuntary flex of every muscle from his abdomen to his jaw, Albert threw-up.

Albert lifted his head and whipped his mouth. Suddenly he was not in the warehouse anymore. He was in the Commissioners office sitting in that terrible chair.

“You killed her didn’t you?” The Commissioner said frankly.

Albert realized that while he was telling the story to the Commissioner he at some point stopped talking and only continued to tell the story to himself.

I did kill her, Albert thought. But that was what he was supposed to do. Walter was supposed to kill the girl. Walter always had to kill the younger witnesses or their kin.

Not until that night did Albert realize that Walter wasn’t just killing off the young ones. He was torturing them. The kind of horrors that await the blackest soul in the darkest pit of hell couldn’t hold a torch to the things Walter had been doing.

Had been doing? Christ! How many had there been?

The thought made Albert hang his head in shame. For his blindness there was no redemption.

The Commissioner stared across the desk waiting for an answer that would never come. They both had nowhere to go from here. If the furnace at that warehouse of death could talk it would say, “they were all in here until their ashes were collected and thrown to the wind.” But the furnace at the warehouse can’t talk. Albert could talk, however, if he did right now it would be only him that gets put away for good. The objective was to put away Walter and Mel. But without a sworn statement from Albert himself Mel could not be dragged into court. Albert did not want to put his name out their as a conspirator against his soon-to-be former employer for one second.

I’d become a dead man. Albert ran several senario’s in his head. All but one ended with his own ashes being scattered to the wind. It seems that without a body, a smoking gun or a witness statement you’re trying to catch air in a fish net.

“What’s the solution Albert?” The Commissioner asked. “You’re clearly not going on record for crimes committed at Mel’s request. We have no bloody glove or prints. What do we do that could put away Mel and… (ahem)… Walter?”

Albert thought about it long and hard before hand and the answer hit him like a swift kick to the balls.

Tony, Albert thought. If he can’t pay, and I know he can’t, he has to die. Bring the boss the head, bring the police to the boss, and…

“Tony.” Albert said to the Commissioner.

“Ah, yes! The snitch. What can he do?” The Commissioner asked.

“He can die.”

Chapter 9: Rip the wings off an Angel.

2009-12-16T18:01:00.000-08:00

The panic stricken line of faces momentarily thins around Albert. Smoke rises to the sky in the distance but his eyes go blurry. Something unseen weakens him. It is as though the very earth beneath his feet is trying to fall away from him. There’s a bus stop bench. Albert slumps on the bench. His conscience has weighed him down. Thinking back to the Police Station where he sat and thought back to the sight of those innocent, lifeless eyes. His stomach churns just like it did that night.

Albert had stood in the entrance to the meat locker. Staring at the girl he immediately felt his hand going for his gun. His gun, like an eraser, could clean the sight from the world, but not from his mind.

The blood splattered wall, table and floor. This sweet Angel had every limb free but one. Her right arm, pale as death, was locked tight into a table vice. The vice was bolted to a butchers counter. The rest of her body slumps on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Albert could see her left arm without a hand white from blood loss. A rectangle with tiny diamond indentations permanently pressed into her wrists. A long, grey, plaid skirt, with white stockings and a matching white school shirt. . Her hair was tied back yet appeared disheveled. She was blindfolded with a piece of cloth ripped from the back of her own shirt. Her head hanged low as she sobbed in pain.

Albert took in the sight of her. He took his hand from his gun and knelt next to her. She could sense that he was there.

“Who is that?” She cried words broken. “Please… I can… I can’t… take anymore.”

“You’re not going to.” Albert spoke so softly he surprised even himself.

Walter stood in the doorway. Surprised by the sight before him, though he felt differently about it then Albert. Showing this kid mercy? Why?

Albert spun the crank of the vice and her right arm came free. Stained with the same bruise as the left she leaned into Albert for comfort. Albert lifted his arms in confusion at first but then wrapped his arms around her. His enormous left hand eventually gripped softly her right shoulder and his right hand held her head against his chest. His black trench coat draped the floor behind him like a cape. Walter saw this and couldn’t help himself.

“You want to hold her hand too, Al?”

The girl lifted her head and began to scream aloud. Tears strolled down to her open mouth. Albert turned his head and saw a smile on Walters face.

You’re not human, Albert thought.

The girl let her screams subside from lack of strength to continue and put her head on his chest this time raising her chin a little. Albert turned back to her and looked directly down into the soaked white cloth covering her eyes. She opened her mouth and whispered softly to Albert, “I want my Daddy…. Please.”

I’m afraid I can not…” Albert whispered back. Did she not know shy?

Another single tear came out from under the right side of her blindfold. She knows now.

“Kill me.”

Albert didn’t want to do it. But then he considered that if he didn’t, his employer would have him killed in manner much messier then the young woman in his arms then.

“Kill me please. I… I can’t l-l-l-live like this.”

“…”

Albert looked at the bloody stumps where her hands should be. She’ll never recover from this, He told himself. She’ll be in therapy for years, but every time she does something with a pair of hooks her mind will bring her back to this night. She’ll cry for all the wrong reasons cause of this when she tries to dance again. A man will never ask her to spend her life with him while presenting a ring. She’ll never be able to hold her own child. Oh, God… What can I do?

“Kill me…”

I can’t.

Albert let his left arm slip from her right side and threw the back of his coat to the right. Resting in the back of his pants at the base of his spine a 9mm. Walter could see this and wanted to stop Albert. Albert held the gun in front of him for a second. He heard Walter take one step forward and then pointed the gun at Walter…

Click off the safety.

Click!

Slide the bullet into the chamber.

Ka-Click!

Shoot the bastard. Let the girl hear him die. Just… pull the trigger.

Walter appeared unafraid. Before him knelt on the ground by the butchers table was Albert. In his right arm, the girl with no hands, in his left hand a gun pointed at Walter’s forehead. Albert’s eyes were hateful and rested on either side of the gun barrel from Walter’s perspective. This changes everything.

Ease the trigger back. Breath. Let every child he has done this to have their revenge.

“Please kill me.” She whispered half-dead already.

Albert turned his head back to the girl. The gun followed as if by itself.

“What do you think your doing?” Walter said loudly.

Albert simultaneously turned his head and saw the anger show through on Walters face. He also let his right hand fall to the floor. Her head balanced for a moment on the barrel of the gun. Albert closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

The sound rang out like cannon fired instead.

Her pain was over. She was gone.

Chapter 8: The Soundtrack of Madness

2009-12-10T19:05:00.000-08:00

Albert snaps out of his free roaming flashback and reminds himself of why he had entered the police station in the first place: Walter Dwyer. This crazy old man made the Manson look like a sitcom family. Walter always had to tag along with Albert on family jobs. Albert has but one rule when it comes to his work: No kids. That doesn’t work for Mel,

I’m not trying to make orphans here Al, Mel would say.

So Mel would call upon Walter. The only person willing to take care of the little ones that can’t get on the big rides at Disney. He is the most twisted, disgusting, deranged, sick-psychopath Albert or anyone ever had the displeasure of coming across. The scream of Walter’s last and quite young victim fills Albert’s darkest nightmares. For his unpredictable nature and psychopathic tendencies that make him very non-humorous, all Maroni’s men agree that making friends with Walter is simply not an option.

The one and only time Albert had to stand by while Walter slowly mutilated a young girl is still fresh in his mind: The high-pitched screams and Walter mocking her pain with a smile. The sound of a dull knife slicing through flesh and bone was like someone taking to the trunk of a tree with a butter knife. Walter’s sickest pleasure was using dull instruments. He felt the difficulty made the suffering all the sweeter.

On that occasion a few weeks ago Albert had waited outside the abandoned meat locker that was inside the seemingly abandoned warehouse where Mel had done much of his business. Albert did not want to be there but this time around Walter insisted. It was as though he felt that if Albert hung around he might learn to enjoy what Walter was doing.

Enjoy it! Albert thought, Like it was a popular show on the telly and I just needed to give it a chance.

No, not partaking without trying is not a reason to assume that Albert is close-minded, just sane. Walter went to work on the girl immediately. Her screams were, literally, piercing. As though Albert was cleaning both ears at the same time and accidentally shoved sewing needles into his eardrums instead of cotton swabs. The faint sound of a knife cutting through flesh accompanied her screams, Albert could not get his headphones on fast enough. Guilt and pain rushed through his blood as he set his Mp3 player to random and pressed play. Music was a poor substitute for his old addiction to painkillers. But music was the only substitute at hand.

A song by Muse started Albert’s wait…

A song by Metallica followed…

Pink Floyd…

A dance tune by Daft Punk…

A Classic by Hendrix…

And Zeppelin…

And so on…

Albert likes a variety of music but mostly rock. Strangely his favorite, The Beatles, never played despite the fact that every song they ever made is on his players’ hard drive. It felt like he had listened through a whole concert before Walter reappeared from behind the cold steel door. The silhouette created from the light behind gave only detail to the fact that Walter is short and quite over-weight. As the guitar solo of a song called “Bat Country” ran in Albert’s ear he took in more detail of Walter as Walter drew closer to him.

Walter is balding and the horseshoe pattern hair around his head is reddish-white. His skin is very pale. When sleeping he could just as easily be thought of as dead. He was wearing a butcher’s apron that just barely covered his big belly. Behind that a full-body plastic raincoat, a Malibu style orange t-shirt tucked into a large pair of beige slacks.

Albert took in the sight he had hoped never to see. As the light melted away the darkness covering Walters front Albert could see what he was missing. Walter’s chest was covered in blood. Albert pulled one headphone out of his left ear and could hear the girl screaming again.

What?!?! Albert thought, she’s still alive.

Walter was smiling and in his chubby little hands he was holding two items equal in size. Albert did not want to believe that he was seeing them but there was no denying what his eyes were relentlessly telling him. They were hands. Two precious, little hands that ought to have a teen fashion magazine in the left, and a cell-phone in the right. But those hands were in the hands of one sadistic old fat bastard. The sight of Walter playing with those two small, severed hands almost caused Albert to vomit. Albert heard the singer in his right ear and the little girl’s screams in his left.

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOING TO HER?” Albert got up from his chair with authority and pulled the headphone from his right ear. The music was gone.

“Oh, come on and see Al. I could always use another hand.” Walter laughed and gestured to what he was holding.

Albert started to march towards the locker and the screams got louder. Once at the entrance Albert pulled aside the plastic draping and looked at what was crying for mercy on the other side.

Chapter 7: "Rats! They're everywhere."

2009-12-07T18:58:00.000-08:00

Albert himself does carry a leather bag full of goodies designed to make an obvious crime scene useless. Albert’s means of despair are his two angry hands which when clenched have broken many a man’s jaw. Albert also carries a S/W 9mm pistol, like Joe’s. In fact, Joe gave Albert the pistol. None of the other men know why, but they do agree that maybe Joe should have given Albert flowers, candy or a puppy. Albert’s most famous means to an end is his axe, which looks more like a cross between an axe and a scythe. The amber wooden handle is about two-feet long. The head goes in two directions: The axe side looks like it’s used for chopping wood and the other side of the top is a curved blade like a sickle. The weapon looks like calligraphy “P.” It also looks incredibly dangerous even for the person using it.

“Are you the ‘Jawbreaker’ Albert?”

Albert is the person known to everybody as “Jawbreaker,” but he gave the Commissioner no answer. Again, Albert had no intention of confirming or denying his secret identity. The Commissioner picked up on this and moves on.

“Then there’s the big man, Melvin Maroni. There is no file that we keep on him. No secret document for privileged eyes only. You see, you don’t become the king of the underworld without a few dirty cops on the payroll. Dirty rats! They’re everywhere. I don’t need to tell you that sniffing those rats out is harder then… do you know who they are?

“Who? Your dirty cops?”

“Yeah!”

“Sorry, mate.” Albert says honestly, “Only the governor knows all the players at the match. He code names them too, but I never paid much attention to that.”

“Of course,” the Commissioner does not believe Albert. “Well my predecessor decided before I joined the team that the best way to confuse the rats is to put the cheese all over the maze. Essentially give the information we had to the entire Police force. Even embellish the facts a little. You see, anytime there was a file on Mel it somehow went missing… a long with anyone leading investigations against him. This method became a double-edged sword. Officers investigating Mel could remain anonymous and it confused Mel’s men on the inside, but it also gave Mel his notorious reputation here in town. The average citizen feels they know more about him then the police do.”

Albert can’t sit in the chair anymore.

“Mel simply inherited the business from his Grandfather. It seems the old geezer could not give the business over to his own son, what being dead and all.”

“Dead?” Albert sat forth serving the duel purpose of emphasizing his shock and giving his ass some relief.

“Only after he went completely insane.” The Commissioner reassured Albert. “He was committed to the Fairview Asylum for the Criminally Insane. While there in the 70’s he was subjected to various forms of experimental treatments including the ever-popular electro-shock. But to no avail, he died by hanging himself with his own underwear in the bathroom. Sick bastard just let his feet out from under himself in the stall doorway. If he wanted to live all he had to do was stand up. During their grief Mel started to be groomed for the role of Don. At a very young age too, Mel went into this game with enthusiasm it seems. On his twenty-first Birthday, which we refer to as Black Friday, the Families enemies disappeared off the face of the Earth and all properties, lumber yards, Casino’s, abandoned or otherwise were put in his name over night. Two years later Papa Maroni passed away and Mel’s empire engulfed the entire city. The rest, as they say, is History.”

“This is all well and boring copper, but the reason I am here has nothing to do with me or any of the men you may just mentioned.”

“Really!” The Commissioner leans back in his chair again and crosses his arms. “Then why are you here, Al?”

“That sick wanker. The child-torturing killer. Walter Dwyer.”

“Who the hell is Walter Dwyer?

Chapter 6: The United Nations (continued)

2009-12-04T19:31:00.000-08:00

Gaining ground on the hospital and reminiscing about the past few days gives little comfort to Albert. The events that lead him back to his addiction run through his head with out letting up. A theatre of cruelty set to auto-play in his mind. The girl Walter took away and slaughtered, Tony and his girlfriend… what else could motivate Albert to do the right thing? Was he doing the right thing? More important to Albert then any of these things to consider is…

Will I get away with this?

Albert’s mind takes him back and answers that question for him. The turning point of whether or not he would succeed replayed in his head without him even knowing about it.

Albert was still stuck in the Commissioners office. After walking into the police station of his own will, Albert, was beginning to feel like he was trapped on an island with a talkative 80-year-old librarian. Without a care for the bored expressions on Albert’s face the Commissioner opened the next file and continued.

“The second gunman’s name is Tala. Tala is a butcher. His weapon of choice appropriately is a two-and-a-half-foot machete that dangles by his left arm under his heavy black leather trench coat. Like Joe, however, he also carries a 48 AL auto/pump Shotgun. Has a broad and strong build and stands just a half-foot shorter than you. Probably the sickest and oldest man in Mel’s service. He is an animal. Before you came along, someone sent someone else to the back room of a restaurant. That restaurant was a front for the Japanese triads. This person killed everybody in there. We believe that person was Tala. Witnesses only heard a symphony of screams, shotguns blasts and a machete cleaving flesh. One person said they saw Tala emerge from the poker room with his shotgun, machete and entire body covered in blood. There was even blood in his long black hair… braided, out of tradition… I guess. Native American, year-round-tan, about 5-7, and dark eyes. That witness by the way… gone! Despite his menacing appearance matching the equally messy crime scenes he leaves in his wake, it seems Tala actually has quite the sense of humor. The few time we’ve heard his voice during our interceptions he manages to make the other voice laugh. Tala has the worst phone name going. Why do you guys call him “Wolf?”

“He said it was a translation of his name,” Albert replies, “I think he’s just putting us on.”

The Commissioner let out an audible nod and opened the last file. Albert knew that if this file was not about Walter then the Police really did not know why he was there.

“Then there’s Reid.” The moment the Commissioner said his name Albert knew he would have to offer a little knowledge about the fat sick man to the fat policeman.

“Reid is an African American man whose time in America has not shaken his heavy accent. His first weapon of choice was not a choice at all. For Mel’s employment we gather that it is Reid whom uses a laser sighted assault rifle to pick off Mel’s enemies from a mile away. Reid is the sharp shooter we’ve been looking for isn’t he?”

Another rhetorical question, the Commissioner continues.

“Reid wishes he wasn’t a criminal. Seems like if there were another one on your crew that would side with you Albert it’s him. We did some digging. Reid doesn’t even like guns. Unfortunately, for him the first AK-47 assault rifle that he ever held was given to him by the cold dead hands of his own brother. A story therein that Reid, I’m sure, does not like to tell. But that’s a story all too familiar to anyone who comes out of Sierra Leone alive. Mel took the illegal immigrant in and in exchange Reid’s skills as a marksman are at Mel’s disposal. When we suspected Reid to be an accomplice of Mel’s we tried to have him deported. But that never got past immigration. It seems that Mel has friends there too cause Reid is now 100% citizen of this… (ahem) fine country. A fact we’re certain he is not aware of. Reid uses the laser-sighted rifle, but also always carries the same shotgun as Joe and Tala. Because of his keen eyesight and skills as a sharpshooter, Reid has been identified as “Raptor” true?”

Albert nods. Oops.

The files are all read. Like the outbox of a happy accountant during tax season the Commissioner leaned forward as if to ask, did I leave anything out?

Albert wondered…

“What do we know about you?” The commissioner answered an unasked question.

The Commissioner can read minds.

“Nothing to write home about,” he said seemingly at ease. “The phone calls never referred to you. Oh, we knew you were involved but unlike your classmates you never got busted for something stupid like slapping your girlfriend. You are the last puzzle piece we need to fit. At all the crime scenes someone has made it impossible to identify for certain who has been killed and by who. Imagine! Being a police detective and walking into a bloodied room where it is quite clear a murder has taken place. But there is no body. Forensics shows up and it is impossible for them to use any of the gallons of blood strewn about the place to identify a victim cause the blood has been tainted chemically. Fingerprints can be taken but without a murder weapon or a body to match it, all the fingerprints one could need, become useless in a court of law. This tells us that your work for Mel was and has been given to you directly, in person. Which means that whatever he has had you doing he did not trust to tell you over the phone, not even in code. If this is true then it makes you the most legit, valueable, eye-witness a D.A. could ask for. All we got on you is your nickname… we think… A silenced witness once mentioned a guy known as “Jawbreaker.”

Chapter 5: The United Nations

2009-12-04T19:29:00.000-08:00

“It seems it wasn’t long before you, Albert, stood in front of Mel’s other henchmen to become Mel’s personal favorite.”

The Commissioner pulled over a stack of files from the side of his desk and opened the top one. The wall behind the Commissioners dark brown desk seemed to be made of file cabinets. The only area in the office that didn’t have a cabinet or staff post pinned to the wall was an open-blind window. Through the window was the lovely scenery of a weathered red brick wall. What’s left of the bare walls that could still be seen were a faded lime green. As though the walls themselves had banned together to hold off from turning grey for as long as possible.

“The other men in Mel’s service include three uniquely gifted and psychotic gunmen and Mel’s personal driver. The drivers’ name is David.”

The Commissioner leaned back in his beaten lazy-boy chair as though telling his grandson a bedtime story. He looked down his nose through rectangular glasses at the file. The file was so close to his face that all Albert could see were his eyes.

“David… is not a big boy like you, Albert. He tries to be intimidating but he stands only as high as your chest. All but one of the henchmen, do. But David here seems to have something, however unspoken, to prove. Arrested only a handful of times for assault, aggravated assault, carrying a concealed weapon and resisting arrest. As far as we can tell though he never discharged as single round from his weapon of choice. He carries a custom hard chrome Desert Eagle .50AE caliber with a shiny white finish and gold bow and arrow emblazoned on the handle. The bow and arrow logo represents David’s favorite past-time, archery. It’s the only weapon we ever caught David with and despite it being confiscated on occasion he always manages to get it back. I guess he leaves his real bow and arrow at home, huh?”

The Commissioner looked up from the file at Albert.

Nothing.

“Shaved head, tanned Caucasian, and is always wearing two necklaces under his usual white dress shirt. One necklace is the cross and is a symbol to David of his father, Michael, who was raised a Roman Catholic. The other necklace is the Star of David and it symbolizes David’s mother, Rose, who grew up in a very proud Jewish family. So proud was Rose’s Jewish family that she was excommunicated by the lot of them when she married David’s father. God only knows how the Roman Catholic Church felt about the union. David’s parents are still together to this very day, and David is always wearing a thin-framed pair of dark sunglasses and an equally thin and dark-brown goatee. David never talks, especially to us. He is like a machine. He is told where to go by Mel and he goes there. Because of his quiet nature and the color of his gun we’ve identified David as being referred to as “Casper” in our intercepted phone calls. Did I leave anything out?”

“David’s mother was a Jew?” Albert asked.

“Yes, still is actually, Albert. Excommunicated… for love.” The Commissioner appeared to be surprised that there was something Albert actually didn’t know.

Touching, Albert thought

The Commissioner moved the file aside and opened the next one. He leaned back in his chair and continued.

“The leading gunman of the three-gunman crew is Joe. His weapon of choice is a 48 AL auto/pump shotgun and he keeps a loaded S/W 9mm tucked in the left side of his black blazer, at least that’s where it was when we arrested him outside a nightclub last year for beating his old girlfriend. Joe is only 28 years old and could only be leader because he is the only other Italian in the group… or because he is Mel’s nephew. Joe has all the makings of a… Quote “hot-tempered-moron,” words from Mel’s own mouth describing Joe after the old Uncle bailed him out… again! Joe is third generation American. Joe looks like your average Italian mafia don, but a don he is not and when talking to him one on one in interrogation we found that his tough guy Brooklyn accent magically disappeared. When Uncle Mel showed up, Joe’s ‘Michael-Corleone-accent’ somehow resurfaced from his voice box. Joe’s father, Vincent, doesn’t even have an accent and it seems even less to do with the family business. Unfortunately, looks like his son has just watched the Godfather trilogy one too many times. He has full black hair that he grows out and gels down into a clumpy mane.

“Joe and me aren’t exactly mates.” Albert added. “He does see himself as our leader, but I get my orders from his Uncle and I never do anything Joe asks of me.”

“So he has no say-so when it comes to you and it bothers him as his ambition is to rule the ‘family business’ when Mel is no more. Is that about right?”

“Indeed.”

“So because of his misguided leadership skills and his fake Brooklyn accent everyone refers to Joe as ‘Da Head’ or ‘Head’ over the phone.

“… Which is short for ‘Dick-Head.’

The Commissioner laughed, “Seriously?”

“Absolutely! Nobody likes Joe. He is our crews resident fuck-up.”

The laughter continued for a few moments but only from the Commissioners side of the desk. As Albert prepared to hear the profile of two more people that the police have had their eye on he realized that there had been no mention of Walter.

Do they know nothing about the Godfather of the sick and twisted, Albert wondered.

Chapter 4: At The Station

2009-11-25T16:56:00.000-08:00

Albert didn’t understand why the police sat him in an interrogation room. After all, he went to see them. But the police simply had to go through the motions. Albert refused to talk from over two hours unless they moved his to a more comfortable surrounding and agreed to make him some tea. Eventually Officer Macintyre got tired of hearing his own voice bounce off the walls and agreed.

Albert is not stupid.

Now sat comfortably in an office across the desk from the Commissioner Albert cooled his tea like an old woman and waited for the Commissioner to speak.

“So now the jawbreaker wants to hand over the king of organized crime to us on a silver platter.”

“Indeed,” Albert’s voice is deep.

“I won’t go into asking why,” the commissioner continued, “Lets just go through where you came in and the laundry list of characters that we’ve had our eye on. You tell me if I’ve left anything out. Okay?

Albert nodded and sipped his tea.

“You, Albert, have always looked like you could seriously hurt people. Now we already know that this is a mild version of the truth. You’ve made a wealthy, yet deplorable living at hurting people.”

“Killing people is more accurate.” Macintyre outburst from behind the Commissioner. Then the Commissioner rolled his eyes and continued.

“You’re the Italian mafia’s leading “eraser.” Funny job for an Englishman, but your talent forgives your heritage in the eyes of your employer. Started out a career as an enforcer and due to sheer size never really had to hurt anybody. Then something happened and you had to get your hands dirty didn’t you?”

Rhetorical question.

Albert remembers that night though. The Commissioner was right. Things in a situation he caught himself in got out of hand fast and Albert found himself working all night in his backyard making it so that it was like the two guys he had just killed never existed. Cost Albert an axe, a gun, four quarts of gasoline, one lighter, a shovel, six packs of rose bushes and his entire Cadillac Fifth Ave.

Thank God Hal’s Hardware is twenty-four-hour, Albert sat there and the unwanted answer from Macintyre snapped him back to reality.

“Got your hands real dirty didn’t you?”

This time the Commissioner turned around in his chair and looked up at Macintyre. Giving him that “shut the hell up” look before spinning back towards Albert.

“Your boss found out what a soft-stepping-assassin you’re capable of being and asked you to do job after job after job of making people disappear off the face of the planet. Melvin Maroni, your employer was kind enough to give you a unique axe to take with you on every job. Not exactly a smoking gun though. Need a body to go with the weapon. Melvin Maroni! Otherwise known as the “Lord of South Lake Gardens Criminal Underworld” or “Mel” for short. How am I doing so far?”

“Pretty boring.” Albert coolly replied. So far Albert’s responses were vague. They had to be. Don’t confirm or deny, he thought. Let the Commissioner tell you what he knows. Save it for court.

“Anything to add?”

“Yeah! Could we move this along?”

“Getting nervous Al?” Macintyre broke the Commissioners last nerve.

“Macintyre!” The Commissioner turned to him, “Are you practicing lines for a television Cop drama? Take a walk will ya! Go call your mommy or something.”

Macintyre unfolded his arms and gave Albert a hateful stare. He then walked out of the room slamming the door behind him.

“Sorry about that Al. He’s a lot of an idiot. Couldn’t solve a game of Clue but has a knack for the interrogation room… that is until tonight.”

“No worries. But, again, I know the story your telling…”

“I know but I have to go over this with you Al. If there is anybody missing let me know. We’re going to start with your co-workers, Mel’s other henchman. Commonly referred to as The United Nations.”

Chapter 3: One Last Snitch With A Gambling Problem

2009-11-09T19:22:00.000-08:00

As Albert’s walks towards the hospital he stares blankly forward. He takes no notice of how the closer he gets to the hospital the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Albert is deep in thought. He is walking cause he feels sure that his employer put a tracking device, maybe even a bomb, in his car. And since Albert just spent the better part of an entire day and night at the police station, it is probably best that his employer thinks that Albert simply hasn’t left the house in twenty-four hours.

Albert recalls, it was two days ago that he was sent to a low level snitches house to give him twenty-four hours notice. The snitch’s name is Tony. Tony was the only one at his apartment and Albert threw him so hard against the wall that the dry wall dented in the shape of a large egg.

“Mel wants his money Tony,” Albert warned him sternly with his British accent, “You’ve got twenty-four hours Tony. I’m coming back here tomorrow, in exactly twenty-four hours. And I am either going to leave with the money you owe back to Mel or your head. And probably the head of your little whore-friend too.”

At the last sentence comes a look of shock blended in with the fearful look Tony was giving Albert.

“Oh,” continued Albert, “Didn’t think we knew that you found yourself a little girlfriend did you Tony? Where is your little cupcake? Is she home?”

“Sh-sh-she’s sleeping. Works nights.” Tony replied breathing terror on to Albert’s knuckles.

“Well congratulations Tony. That’s precious that is. This time tomorrow, you’ll have the whole lot or you and the bird reach the afterlife. And don’t run Tony, or we’ll let Walter work on the Bird while you watch.”

After that Albert left Tony huddled on the floor with nothing but a hole in the wall and a day left to live. Felt crumby to Albert to have to threaten Tony with what Walter would do, but that always worked. Stories reached every corner of the city with what Walter was capable of… what he took pleasure in. People would always pay or choose death then risk being submitted to Walter’s twisted fantasies.

It’s just two days after the last time Albert saw fear in Tony’s eyes. Albert can’t help but feel as though Tony passed all his fears onto him, the man who would end his life. The fear Albert feels as people run past him came after what he had done later that evening. A visit to the police station made Albert into something his Boss hated. The thing his Boss hated most about people like Tony. What he liked to call, “a snitch.”

Chapter 2: Weeks later

2009-10-27T17:49:00.000-07:00

Albert had developed a habit of taking enough painkillers to numb an elephant. Just the same though, Albert is a really big guy. Intimidating to see the first time anyone meets him. As he walks down the street in his long suede black trench coat, he swings his large left arm and holds a large to-go tea in his right arm like it’s a trophy and he is a championship wrestler making his way to ring for the main event. His neck is the same width as his large head and his head is completely hairless. If not for the collar of white dress shirt he’s wearing people at his back would be able to a large tattoo of a ram on the back of his neck. A ram like the kind the devil would ride on Armageddon: fanged, red-eyed, black, nostrils in a v-shape blowing a two streams of smoke across his shoulder blades and two black horns that stretch out and curl in an s-shape below and then around Albert’s ears. The ram is astrological sign for Aries, but he could care less. That would explain why directly under the Ram in a bold black and thorny text it says “Bringer Of Death.”

Albert is from Bristol, U.K. His deep voice is accented English as such. Albert came across the sea to this city by way of family when he was just a teenager. Maybe it was because of his size or his accent, but the fact that he appears as a force to be reckoned with has led to his half-life-long-career. A career Albert would rather leave behind. Albert walks alone down the main street of his city towards the hospital. At the hospital is a friend and Doctor whom will gladly write up a prescription for Albert’s painkillers. The best painkillers money can buy. Once Albert pops a few Oxycottons like their smarties he’ll show no sign of emotion or fear. If not for the large tea in his right hand people would think Albert is on his way to kill somebody. The hurt on his face is hard to separate from anger. That’s the thing everybody is afraid of most about Albert; no one really knows what he is thinking. His face is so deceiving. On the surface he’s a rock, on the inside he’s play-do.

Albert is scared. Very scared. Albert doesn’t know it yet but he should be scared.

Chapter 1: The Catalyst

2009-10-01T22:43:00.000-07:00

The job was done. The only man who could’ve put the evildoers of this city behind bars is dead. Not only is he dead, but also his entire body completely erased. Shot, hacked to pieces, burned, remains crushed and then scattered like grass seed. A man named Albert handled this job. Albert is the mystery and the man whom basically ensures that if anyone in town sees a crime being committed they fear to speak of it to the police. The sign entering the city should read, “Welcome to South Lake Gardens: A place to learn how to keep your mouth shut.”

There was only one more detail to attend to. That detail was crying and thrashing in the trunk of the car. It is fourteen-year-old girl who will never see her father again. Albert watched as his partner in crime, Walter opened the trunk to examine his prize. Walter is a bitter old man. Fat, sick and twisted. The fearful eyes illuminated by the trunk light give a rush of pleasure to the balding senior. Albert leaves a house burning in the background and stands next to Walter in the driveway. In the trunk he can see her. Another nameless, innocent, victim she is. Eyes wide with terror and hair soaked in tears. A mouth that would surely scream for help if not bound tightly shut by a roll of duct tape. Albert’s eyes turn to Walters smile and then back to the girl. He knows what’s next. It has to be done. But just like every time, it makes Albert sick.