Kill Whitey

Sondra stared at me like I’d lost my mind, but she did as I’d told her. She jumped to the left and started running. I guess maybe I had lost my mind. Even as I charged him, a little voice in the back of my head asked me what the fuck I was doing. Whitey had a gun. A cardboard box wouldn’t stop a bullet. But my body overrode such common sense. My feet and legs rebelled, carrying me forward.

Whitey fired at Sondra, but missed. Even though my ears were still ringing, I heard the bullet hit concrete. Sondra dashed across the room, ducking behind a steel girder. Whitey paused for a split second, his attention turning to me. I couldn’t see him, but I could sense the hesitation. Maybe he thought I’d lost my mind, too. Sondra took advantage of the distraction and took off again. At the same time, I hurled the box at Whitey, shrieking with rage. He shot the box and then fired a third shot at me. The only thing that saved me was Yul. Slipping in his blood, I toppled over, landing on my ass. The metal shard slid from my grasp. My teeth clacked together and I bit the inside of my cheek. Warmth filled my mouth. The shock ran up my spine. My eyes watered from the mixture of pain and cordite.

“Go, Sondra,” I shouted. “Keep running!”

My voice echoed, competing with the gunshots.

Whitey coughed. “Very noble of you, Mr. Gibson. Or should I call you Larry?”

I spat out a mouthful of blood and glared at him. Suddenly, I felt very small and powerless and afraid.

“Call me Mr. Gibson,” I croaked. “Bitch.”

Keeping the pistol pointed at me, Whitey reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his cell phone. I stared down the barrel of the gun, literally. A big, black hole—probably the last thing I’d ever see. But I’d be damned if I was going to let this fucker know how scared I was.

“If you’re planning on calling your mob buddies,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “then don’t bother. Reception is for shit inside this building. You won’t get a signal.”

His aim didn’t waiver. The pistol looked heavy but he held it steady. Whitey glanced at the cell phone. In that second, I put my foot over the fragment of metal strapping, hiding it from him. Scowling, Whitey looked back up at me and stuffed the cell phone in his pocket.

“Told you,” I said. “Asshole.”

“If you’re trying to buy time for Sondra to get away, Mr. Gibson, then you are even more foolish than I thought. She has nowhere to go. Even now, the police are probably entering this complex.”

I shrugged. “It’s a big place. Lot’s of warehouses and buildings in here. Might take them a while to find us.”

“I doubt it. Both of our vehicles are parked outside. I don’t think they’ll have any trouble locating us.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You willing to take that chance?”

“I am indeed.”

“Well, then you’re as dumb as you sound.”

It wasn’t the stinging retort I’d hoped for, but I was having trouble focusing. Fear is funny that way.

Whitey looked me over. I stared back, trying not to flinch. Yul broke the silence when his bowels let go. Cringing, I glanced over at him, and was alarmed to see that his fingers were moving, slowly clenching and unclenching.

“Oh Jesus,” I gasped. “He’s still alive. He’s still alive you son of a bitch.”

“Nyet. What we are seeing is just nerves—the final electrical impulses of an already dead brain.”

“He’s fucking moving!”

“Ignore it. The gas. The loosening of the bowels. The finger gestures. These are all taking place after death. Believe me, I have seen this many times before. I am something of an expert. But if it will make you feel better, I’ll give you an example.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Make me feel better? He’d just shot Yul in cold blood and had tried to kill me and Sondra.

“I’m sure you’ll understand if I’m brief. I once attended a birthday party in East Petersburg. The town in Lancaster County, of course. Not the one in my homeland. It was a gathering comprised of people from my organization. Our families were in attendance as well. Several of the children discovered a large black snake crawling through the yard. An impressive specimen, really—at least four feet in length and very thick. It had eaten well. The children were frightened, so the host grabbed a shovel and cut the serpent’s head off. The body continued to writhe and coil for a full fifteen minutes afterward. If we had more time, I could demonstrate it for you. Cut your dead friend’s head off and let you watch.”

“Do whatever you want to us,” I said. “Just leave Sondra alone.”

“How much did she tell you?” Whitey asked. “Did she tell you where the money is?”

“What money?”

“The money she stole from me.”

I said nothing, trying to figure out if this was some sort of trick.

Whitey sighed. “Did she tell you that she was with child?”

“Why? You gonna promise not to kill me if you find out I don’t know everything? Gonna offer me the same deal you gave Yul?”