Kill Whitey

“They’re dead.” Yul’s voice was flat, toneless. His eyes were still shut. “I thought maybe you guys were playing another joke on me. Fuck With Yul Day. But you’re not messing with me. This is really happening. I went to work this morning and now…they’re really dead.”

“Yeah.”

“And these Russian guys killed them?”

“They…yeah.”

Yul put his hand to his mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick again.”

I pulled behind an old boiler that some company had left lying out to rust, and turned the car off. I flexed my fingers. They felt numb. Yul flung the door open and collapsed in the dirt. He had the dry heaves.

“Let’s get inside one of these buildings,” I said. “Find a place to hide before somebody sees us.”

Sondra and I got out of the car. I made sure to grab the now empty 9mm, and stuck it in my waistband again. No sense leaving behind the incriminating weapon. I wished for a moment that I’d thought to do the same with the empty .38 back at the convenience store. I should have tossed it into the dumpster with my cell phone. Of course, when the cops found my Cherokee, they’d probably search the dumpster anyway.

Yul sputtered and gagged. As we helped him up, he glanced down at my feet.

“Where are your shoes?”

“Don’t worry about our shoes right now, dude.”

“Hold up a second.” He pulled away from me and went back to the car, rummaging around in the back. He grabbed a gym bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a ratty pair of running shoes. “You’re a size ten, right?”

I nodded.

“These should fit you then. Trying to get in shape for Kim, so I’ve been running every morning after work.” He looked at Sondra. “Sorry, I don’t have a pair that would fit you.”

Sondra shrugged. “Is okay.”

Grateful, I slipped the running shoes onto my aching feet. Then we abandoned the car and hurried towards a nearby warehouse with broken, boarded up windows and faded green siding. The ground around it was covered with bird shit and garbage. Pigeons cooed on the roof. In the distance, we heard a car engine revving. The engine sounded as sick as Yul. Fainter still was the wailing sound of emergency sirens.

“Is Whitey.” Sondra quickened her pace. “We go faster.”

I’d noticed something about Sondra’s usage of the English language. Sometimes she spoke fine, and other times she sounded like she’d just learned her first American words. At first, it was cute. Then it became a little annoying. But now, I’d figured it out. It seemed like the more stressed she got, the more broken her English became.

“I’m dizzy,” Yul moaned. “Wait up a second.”

“Nyet,” Sondra snapped. “I said we go faster. Hurry.”

I grabbed Yul’s arm and steadied him. “Let’s listen to the lady. Come on.”

He looked up at me and flashed a weak smile. “It’s going to be okay, right, Larry?”

“Sure,” I lied. “We’re gonna be fine.”

“I’m worried about Kim. She doesn’t know where I am.”

Even with everything that had happened, Yul’s first concern was for Kim. I thought about how nice it must be to have someone in your life like that. Someone that you cared about above everything else. Someone you’d move mountains for. Someone you’d kill for. I wanted a love like that.

And then I looked at Sondra and realized that I already had it.

“Let’s get inside,” I said.

Sondra and Yul flattened themselves against the side of the warehouse while I reached through the broken glass and pressed on the plywood covering the window. It was brittle and loose, deteriorated from constant exposure to the elements. The windows were low to the ground.

There was still no sign of the Lexus, but it sounded closer than before. As I pushed on the plywood, the engine sputtered and died. There was a faint thump—a slamming car door, and then a muffled shout. Whitey was back to speaking Russian again.

“What’s he saying?” I asked Sondra.

“The many ways he will kill us. None of them are quick.”

“Fuck this shit.”

I walked backwards a few paces and then ran at the wall, leaping into the air and kicking the plywood. It splintered. Even though the window was set lower than normal, I fell flat on my ass. Standing up again, I kicked the plywood repeatedly until it gave way and collapsed. After I’d brushed the glass out of the way, Sondra climbed through the window, followed by Yul. I took one last glance around and then ducked through after them. If Whitey had heard the commotion, there was no sign. He’d gone quiet again. The only sound was the far-off sirens.

Once inside the warehouse, I leaned the plywood back up against the window and braced it with a stack of empty wooden crates. If anybody inspected it too closely, they’d see that it wasn’t nailed, but hopefully it would be enough to fool them at a passing glance.