Recovered Memories

Sitting on my bedroom floor thinking about my teenage years, now long lost to me. more so than just in the past, now the memories themselves were fading. the colors and urges of my experiences were being leaced away by the new practicality of my "more adult mind". All the drama and fire I felt makes no sense to me now. I can imagine why i felt that way then, blaming a lot to hormones and lack of experience. I was figting with my longtime girlfriend bac then. We weren't fighting over me going to a strip club, we were'nt fighting over how cheap and empty that made her feel. We were fighting over the insensitive things I had said to her while we were fighting about the strip club. We had been fighting for hours, I had made the mistake of trying to apologise in the beginning and had spoiled her fight, so she had started dredging up the actual words I had used in our arguments. I was getting fed up, the angriest I had ever been with her that I could recall at the time. I stormed from my bedroom in my friends basement, to the living room. then the kitchen, back to the bedroom. After 2 hours I ended up locked in the bathroom with her screaming like a deranged harpie outside the door. I was almost praying for someone to come home, but it was pretty early in the afternoon. I decided to take a shower, to show her I was ignoring her, and to drown out her screams and curses. I was in the shower when she finally popped the lock on the bathroom door. Shrieking triumphantly she stormed the bathroom I saw her hands swing around as she illustrated her point, without thinking I lunged out of the bathtub and swung an arm around her waist. I pulled her into the shower directly under the faucet. If this had been a movie she would have immedietley burst into laughter, alls well and all that. Unfortunately it wasn't a movie and it only made things worse. I don't recall how this ended..

This Guy #7 continued...

For the next day or two one of us stayed in the doorway constantly watching the hallway. I for one was on the edge of throwing the door open and shooting almost every time I saw someone walk up that small hallway. Old ladies, the bellhop, even the cleaning service sparked a mini panic attack every time I looked out the peephole on the door. When I could actually sleep I had dreams of people seeing my eye in the peephole and shooting me through the door.
It wasn't much easier on Stet and Niklas either, we were all short with each other, Stet and I actually repeated our wrestling match from before. Niklas stopped us before we got too angry though, he was a good mediator. Stet was all adrenaline and testosterone, too geared up waiting for a threat to handle it calmly. He was probably just over-trained by the army, but they built killing machines welland he was no exception. I was worse, I constantly had nightmares whenever I slept, sometimes flashes of gore and violence would appear out of nowhere when I was awake too, but I didn't tell Niklas or Stet. I didn't think they qualified as hallucinations, since I knew they were just made up by the guilt and fear in my head.
It got to be too much though, I couldn't take the constant threat to my life, even if Stet and Niklas seemed to be doing ok. Stet was good at this, when it was his turn to watch the door he would make a little nest of blankets behind the door. After arranging it comfortably he would set both of our pistols close at hand, check to see if they were loaded then he set a small mirror under the door along the jamb. His view of the hallway probably wasn't as wide as if he used the fisheye peep, but after looking myself I had to agree no one could have walked up that hallway without being seen. Then he would sit there dead silent for six hours or so, just watching. I constantly checked to make sure he was awake, but his reply was always the same "Fuck off, stop distracting me.
Niklas just played with his computer, I was half convinced he spent the whole time looking at porn, but every time I was behind him all I could see was a screen full of numbers, sometimes in lines, sometimes in columns. If he caught me looking over his shoulder he would meet my gaze, close the top of his laptop and say "What?"
When I asked what he was doing, it was always a vague answer that I didn't understand. Suspicion of him was blooming in my mind, and I hated myself for it. I had got into this mess to save him, and now I was constantly weighing him in my mind as a liability. I felt constantly like I was betraying him and Stet both as my suspicions flared and roiled inside my mind. I watched them both constantly, watching over their shoulders as they watched the door, sometime creeping up to the bathroom door while they were showering or using the john to make sure they weren't making any phone calls. It got to be too much though, Stet finally noticed the stress I was under and called me on it.
"Dude, you’re freaking out. It's not working, soon you're going to accuse one of us of being against you and we're all going to fall apart or kill each other." The calm way he sat there saying that to my face sent a chill up my spine. It was so close to what I had been feeling it was eerie.
"Shit." I took a long drag on my cigarette. "You're right. I'm so freaked out right now I can't sleep any more."
He just nodded which showed he was more in step with my current feelings than Niklas, who looked like he'd been shot. He was all pale and looking back and forth between the two of us.
"We gotta do something man, I can't keep waiting here." I needed an idea from one of them but they both didn't say anything.
Niklas eventually broke the silence, "We're just following you. You're more " He paused searching for the right word. "ruthless, than either of us." He winced a little as he said it, a slight apology.
"You just do what has to be done." Interrupted Stet. "You saw the hit man first and took him before it got dangerous. You set out looking for Sal and his asshole friends to pre-empt their strike, you even took down Wriggly when he turned on you." He looked down at the carpet, but his eyes looked angry rather than embarrassed.
"So?" I asked, shortly, right then I felt like punching Stet in the face.
"So?" Stet stood up and paced the room stopped and stared out the siding glass door of the porch. "So far you haven't asked anyone, just gone ahead and did what needed to be done." He turned and locked eyes with me. I could see now he was definitely angry, I just didn't get why.
"So?" I stood up as I said it, reacting to his anger like a threat, my whole body was tensed up and in a second I was going to charge him. Niklas was silent still, when I glared over at him, he met my gaze steadily, obviously he and Stet had been doing some talking.
"Ever since Wriggly, you've been sitting here freaking out." Niklas took over. "You're not sleeping, you smoke like 3 packs of cigarettes a day, you drank every fucking bottle in the mini bar." He waved his arms in the air and stood up too.
"What is this, a fucking intervention!" I yelled, clenching my fists and leaning towards him slightly.
"You just sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. You're waiting for Sal to burst through the door and kill you, or you kill him." he yelled back. "Or waiting to get paranoid enough to attack one of us, or shoot a cleaning lady." I winced as he said this, I thought maybe they hadn't noticed that.
Stet interrupted again "You want to get caught." it wasn't a question.
"What! Fuck that."
"No, seriously listen." Niklas forced himself to talk calmly, and turned back towards me. His eyes roamed the carpet as he tried to find the words.
"You're tired, you're scared. You had to kill a good friend of yours, at least someone you thought was a good friend, and it sapped your will." Stet's eyes met mine again , but this time they looked more sad than angry. Niklas continued "You're scared of what you're doing, and I can't say you're wrong to feel that way, but you're not in a normal situation. Right and wrong haven't applied yet, so far it's just been us or them. You've chosen to live up to now, but you're starting to waver. You're weakening and that means they're going to kill you. Kill us. You'll probably curse and fight at the end, but it'll be too late, you'll let them get too close, you'll do the work for them with your paranoia and fear, and when they shoot you you'll feel relieved that it's over."
"Listen, you brought us this far." Stet continued. "You had a plan, you had goals. Now, now you have nothing. You're just waiting for something to happen. You're not thinking anymore. That means you're going to lose, and that means we're going to lose too." His voice was soft, he was trying to reason with me and I knew it, but I was so angry I just wasn't getting what he was saying.
"If you don't get back in control soon, we're" he motioned to Niklas and himself "going to have to leave. We can't just sit here waiting to get killed, or for you to give up and shoot yourself."
I stared at him for a moment, then the pieces finally came together in my head. I knew what he was saying, and it was scary as hell but it made sense. I sat back down on the bed slowly, my legs felt like jelly and there was a tightness in my chest that was stopping my breath. What was I waiting for? I threw the question deep into my own head, but no answer came. I thought of the past few days, tried to make some sense of what I had been doing, but everything seemed disconnected. My eyes burned and I tried to rub away a tear that formed, but Stet grabbed my arms, shook me gently.
"Fucking let it go." He wasn't exactly yelling but his voice was raised. "You shot your friend. You killed him, even after he helped you. You tried to beat him to death with you're bare hands then you shot him because you didn't want him to betray you again!"
Niklas reached out and took my arm as I tried to push Stet away.
"You killed someone you knew this time. Someone you cared about, had a history with." I was crying now, I couldn't’t even summon the strength to fight back against them as my sobs broke out and wracked my body.
"It had to be done." Niklas added, his own voice husky, breaking slightly until he cleared his throat. "He was a fucking degenerate asshole that turned on you. It's us or them. So far you've chosen us, chosen life. Now if you give up, well it's all been for nothing, they, whoever they are win."
He squeezed my arm and Stet let go and sat on the other bed.
"We need you man. I need you. I'm over my head here, I could help you do whatever you needed, but I feel like a child looking around. Everything you've done so far has freaked me out and scared the piss out of me, but then it makes sense, only I never would have thought of it. Not on my own, I'm not good at being a criminal." He looked down, a little embarrassed maybe at his candidness.
Stet took over, "I don't know what the plan is. I could come up with one on my own, but so far everything I've thought of would have us in jail, or in an old western shoot out. I hate to say it but you've killed three people, by yourself and not left a single clue for the cops, or a connection to us. Fuck, you're good at this." He smiled a rough smile, slapped me on the arm. "You just have to get over this guilt thing. Wriggly tried to get you killed man, you and Niklas and me even. He didn't care about you, only the money and the drugs. You gotta get over it, or we're not going to survive."
I let my tears fall for a moment or two before I grabbed a tissue off the nightstand and blew my nose. I brushed the tears off with my sleeve and met Stet's gaze then Niklas' evenly in turn.
"Fuck, alright. You're right. I gotta get over it, and I will. I don't know what to do right now though. We've been riding this thing on pure luck so far, and now we need to plan, and I got nothing."
Niklas said. "For now we should get out of here, maybe get a room under a different name."
"Yeah, that's a good idea." I agreed. Then another idea hit me. "No wait, let's get out of hotels for a while. There's too much exposure, too many people around."
They both looked at me questioningly so I continued, "We're just sitting here like old cons in a Bogart movie, we need a house we can work out of, control the security of."
They exchanged glances then Stet gave Niklas a look, "You have any idea where we'll get something like that?"
"I know just the place." I realized I was grinning at them, I actually felt a swell of hope in my chest and while both of them sat there looking puzzled I just couldn't help breaking out laughing.
"I know just the place."

This Guy #7

I still had not cleaned up. Streaks of blood covered my hands and face. The smell of vomit and metal rode on waves of gunpowder. The cigarettes I smoked only wreathed the scent, recalled it to my mind again and again. I had gone to take a shower, and stopped when I saw myself in the mirror, covered with dried gore of red purple and black. A grin at myself, thinking of any who saw me on the drive back, the mile or two I had walked between the ditched car and the one I stole. My own grin scared me, I saw the angel of death, my death, looking back at me. Waiting for me to get to the other side where I would become him. I shuddered and turned away, fell into a chair and was smoking a cigarette thinking of a fight Wriggly and I had had in high school.
We were great friends but even so testosterone could change things in a second. We were just hanging out and then next minute amidst shouting curses we were rolling on the floor wrestling. He was too fast for me back then, had locked my arm and head in a painful wrestlers hold and was rubbing my face on the carpet. I was bigger and stood up, lifting his whole body on the weight of his arm lock. He tried to force more pressure on but I was torqued to the max, tears in my eyes as I grunted through the pain. I grabbed his belt and lifted him to my shoulder level. I tried to hit him against the wall but it was agony to jar him against anything.
Finally I could feel his arms shaking with the strain of holding me. I felt a lump in my neck pulsing and was pretty sure I'd have a stiff neck for a couple weeks. I finally turned around enough to bang his head against a door jamb. He tucked his head down so every time he hit the door the high part of his forehead knocked into mine. After two or three good hits, my head was ringing a little, he had managed to reposition, choking me off. I started snorting then giggling madly even though I was losing my air.
He lessened his grip, and I let him down, we let go warily but I was still smiling, trying to pretend my head wasn't hurting, wanting to rub it.
"You're lucky you had the door there." He rubbed his head. He had taken quite an impact.
"If not I would have had to start hitting you."
"I wondered why you weren't."
"I didn't want to hurt you." I shrugged.
"Shit, If I'd known you were a girl, I'd have bitch slapped you." he retorted and spun on his heel bolting up the steps and out of the house. I almost had him while he was turning, but he was so fast I wasn't even out of the house yet and he was turning around in the street laughing at me.
The memory was painful. His face kept morphing into the crushed face lying in the back of the car. I sat there for a long time before I could drag myself up and into the shower. I wore my clothes right in with me and scrubbed them down as much as I could, undressing and scrubbing down the next layer, until I stood there naked with my skin turning bright pink as I washed and rewashed.
I was dressed and feeling better when Stet and Niklas came back to the room.
"Where's the car? I didn't see it outside?" asked Niklas. I paused trying to remember, but my mind was feeling pretty foggy.
Stet stepped closer, "What happened to your hand?" his voice sounded really far away, but I looked down to see what he was talking about, what had happened.
Suddenly Stet had a hold of my shoulders and he was shaking me, "Whats the matter?"
Niklas' voice "Is he high?"
"Could be. Dude, Alex!" he was shaking me pretty hard. I looked up from my hands and watched his hands clap together in front of my eyes.
"Stop fucking shaking me!" I yelled but it was slow coming out, he didn't look like he understood me.
"Hey! Hey!" Stet clapped his hands again then reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I couldn’t breath and was seeing spots. My head was pounding in time with his shaking.
I screamed in his face. ”Stop fucking shaking me!" Grabbing Stet by his shirt I lifted and shoved him away from me. He twisted and my hands seemed to wrap up in his shirt, then the ceiling spun past my eyes and I hit the ground flat. All the air whooshed from my lungs.
Stet leaned over me, one knee on my shoulder, my other hand was caught up on something and wouldn't move. The ground felt like it was vibrating, and my vision started to bounce around. I heard words in strange voices "drugs", "shock", "hospital".
I twisted to the side as my stomach heaved and I spewed yellow green bile across the side of the bed, and onto the floor, just missing stet.
I heaved until I went dry, and then continued to choke and heave until Stet and Niklas wrestled me to my feet and into the bathroom. I leaned over the toilet for a while letting the spasms in my stomach and body resolve. When everything seemed clear again, I rinsed out my mouth then took a cigarette from Stet.
We moved onto the balcony, to avoid the smell. I dangled my legs through the bars and rested my head on the cool metal. I still felt shaky, and tremors passed through me a little less strong each time until I felt like I could talk again.
"Thanks."
"What happened?" asked Niklas "Are you hurt or something? There's blood all over the bathtub?"
My stomach lurched a little but I pulled it back under control. Stet went back to take a look, then the shower ran for a few minutes before he came back.
"It's not that bad we can clean it up." said Stet. He handed me a coke he must have grabbed from the mini bar. "The puke though" he mock winced, slapped me gently on the shoulder "you're on your own there pal."
I grunted, drank some soda before talking. "Yeah. No problem, sorry about that."
"I've never been able to throw you that easy before. It was fun."
"Shit, whose blood is that?" Niklas asked sounding more resigned than upset.
"Wriggly’s" after a few seconds of dead silence, I looked up to find Niklas and Stet staring at each other.
"What?" I snapped.
"It's just, well I told Stet you probably went to see Wriggly, because he told Stet about us."
"Huh, you figured that?"
"It wasn't hard, just didn't figure you would kill him." added Stet.
"I didn't want to. It's pretty fucked up." I told them everything that had happened, sparing no detail. I kept looking up at the two of them comparing how pale they got against each other.
Niklas was the first to speak. "So what now? We change hotels?"
"No, if I thought the cops knew we probably would, but we should let Sal come to us." answered Stet.
I nodded agreement. "He's got a lot to answer for."
I paused then stood up facing my friends. "I'm sorry about Wriggly." my voice wanted to catch but I didn't let it. "I wasn't going to kill him, but it just got so fucked up. Then I almost beat him to death anyway. I just fucking lost it." I wiped my hands down my face, shook my head sharply to keep control.
“Some of that was the drug,” Stet noted “he deserved it anyway.”
"I'm sorry you had to kill him, Alex" said Niklas. "He was fucked up for years though. The only reason we trusted him was because we had no choice. Don't beat yourself up." he shrugged. "It's more fun to watch Stet here do that." He smiled as I flipped him off.
"Yeah, what he said, let's just not get all sappy and shit." Stet said taking a deep drag on his cigarette. "Remember you've some friends coming to adjust your vital signs."
"No shit."

This Guy #6

I was pretty upset Wriggly had told someone where we were. It was Stet, so there was no real damage done, but now I had to worry about who else he might have told, who they talked to and so on. I didn't tell Stet or Niklas and went to go have a talk with wriggly. I went to his apartment in Philly, one of his couriers, Benny, was just coming out as I came up. He looked pissed, and was muttering under his breath, when he saw me though he froze for a second then smiled.
He opened the door for me and waved me in, "Just go in man, he's not busy." I looked around suspiciously trying to see anything out of norm, but didn't.
I was starting to sweat, but tried to stay calm, I went in watching a reflection of Benny in the door glass half expecting him to jump towards me. Instead he turned an sat on the bottom step of the little stoop. I closed the door behind me and clicked the bolt closed, if he heard he didn't give a sign, It probably wouldn't stop him if he came in but at least I'd hear him.
I rounded the hallway corner slowly scanning the length of the front room, Wriggly was sitting, facing me, but he was bent over a stack of cash, and didn't seem to know I was there. I stepped out into the doorway a little more, my boot clunked on the floor and he jerked up in surprise. When he saw it was me he jumped to his feet.
"Fuck" he yelled and lunged low, making it past me with no trouble. Before I'd even made it a step back into the hallway, the fact that he was running from me just sinking in, I heard him throw the bolt on the door. I came out in the hallway just in time to see Benny's fist shoot through the gap in the open door and catch wriggly square in the face. Wriggly flopped over backwards, dazed, blood starting to pour from one nostril. His hands waved vaguely in the air for part of a second, then he went limp and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Benny pushed on the door but now Wriggly was blocking the way. I grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him back into the living room. Benny followed and I heard the bolt shut again.
I was feeling a little bewildered, but dragged wriggly over to the sofa where he had originally been sitting and left him lying on the floor in front of it. Benny was out in the hallway looking back and forth between me and Wriggly.
"What the fuck Benny?" he met my gaze squarely, and then his eyes flickered down to my hand and back his face whitening a little. I actually had to look down to see that I had my gun out and was squeezing the hell out of it, my hand all white and trembling. I didn't remember pulling it out, but damned if I was going to put it away now.
Benny' father came from some what he said was one of the larger crime families in North jersey, New York. He never named him or them, but he would tell stories about some of the shit that went on at their family gatherings. His mother was Vietnamese, having met his father during the war, coming back to the states with him to be married. His father had gone back into the family business when he got back from Vietnam, got sent to prison and ended up dead in a prison fight. Benny and his mother pretty much got tossed out by the family as soon as his father was dead, maybe that's why his father didn't make it. He didn't really know, didn't care either, he took his mother's maiden name came to work the streets eventually working for wriggly.
He was kind of short, but his Italian blood, or his insane workouts left him bulging with muscle, he was the biggest oriental person I'd ever seen short of sumo wrestlers. He could move too, he was fast, had taken some kind of martial arts since he was a boy. Right now though I was far enough away from him he couldn't get to me without me shooting. I wasn't planning on it, but if anyone had jumped or moved suddenly I was keyed up enough I would have started blasting.
"He sold you out man." Benny looked like he was going to spit on him, but instead just waved at Wriggly. "See that cash?" he pointed at the stacks wriggly had been counting. "A guy named Sal Rogelio came by this morning. I never heard of him, but I seen him before, and not with nice people."
"What’s he look like?" I asked. Benny gave a great description of that guy I was looking for. "Damn" I let out a slow breath.
"That's all you're going to say? Damn?" Benny asked.
"I'm just thinking man." and I was, only it was more like trying to stick a paddle in the whirlpool of info in my brain.
"What's he tell him?" I asked waving the pistol at wriggly.
"I don't know. The guy came in and said 'I’m Sal Rogelio' like we should have known him. He asked about Niklas, only he knew his real name. He asked about you too, had a good description of you right down to your tattoos. I kept expecting Wriggly to tell him, we didn’t know anything and to fuck off, but instead he sends me to wait outside!" Benny was fuming. "Sal had these two big grease ball fucks with him he sent out after me, they waited on the step with me until Sal came out, then they all left. I went inside and Wriggly sitting there counting out this brown paper bag full of cash.
"I asked him about Sal, but he tried to be all big, told me to keep my mouth shut. Get the fuck out." He shrugged "that's when I came out and saw you coming. I figured you found out somehow?"
"No, I mean, I knew he told one of my friends where I'd been. I was just coming to tell him to knock it off. Shit."
"It was fucked up for him to do that." Benny leaned against the wall. "As soon as anyone heard, no one would do shit with us ever again. He's a fucking rat, he turned on you so fast, it was like he called the guy and told him to come over."
I could hardly believe it, one of my old friends actually stabbing me in the back had never occurred to me, now that it had happened I was trembling in rage, or fear, I couldn't tell.
"So what do you want?"
"I want this set-up." Benny looked around the small room. "I know where he gets his shit and I know all the runners. So you take him out of here" he nodded again at Wriggly, "and I take over in his place."
"What you think I'm going to kill him." I asked anger flaring up.
"Shit, you need to kill him, if you don't though I don't care, because me or one of the other runners will. We make too much money off this, we don't need him, and if he disappears every one will get the message that he got his for ratting someone out. We'll still be good here. No problem."
He had it worked out, that's for sure. Only I couldn't kill Wriggly, we'd shared some good times together. I couldn't leave him here either, I just didn't want him killed.
"I'll take him with me." I said squaring myself towards Benny so he got the threat. He nodded.
"Just make sure he never comes back here." he met my eyes. "Don't trust him. He's a fucking junky; he'd sell you for bottle cap full of Clorox, man."
Wriggly was starting to move around again, I had to get us out of here. I had a feeling Benny liked me enough, but he was all business and If I didn't get moving he'd make it easier on me, just not the way I wanted him to.
"Can you set up a heroin shot?" I asked Benny as I bent down and unlaced both of Wriggly's shoes. He said yes, so I had him fix me up two syringes, I gave Wriggly one in the forearm, just as he was coming awake. I watched the panic fade from his face as the drug hit his system, he gave me a sleepy looking grin, patted me on the arm. I tied Wriggly’s shoes together leaving 2-3 inches of slack, childish maybe, but he if he tried to run away it might be my only chance at catching him, he was fast.
Benny had gathered up the cash on the table and put it back in a brown paper bag. He handed it to me as I was leading Wriggly out the door. He gripped my arm for a second “Remember. That cash bought you from this man." I met his eyes then nodded.
"You won't see him again." I promised, hoping I could convince Wriggly of that.
"You're cool here. Come see me if you need something."
I threw Wriggly into the backseat, he was a little more lucid, but definitely high, Benny must have fixed one hell of a shot. I turned back, shook Benny's hand then left.
I drove back into Jersey and headed east, Wriggly mumbling and laughing in little snorts in the backseat. After driving about an hour I pulled off and went into a diner and had some coffee. Things were beginning to fall together again; I was just realizing the enormity of what Wriggly's betrayal could cause. Did he give our new names to Sal? If he did he could just call hotels until he found us. He must have figured we were still around, Wriggly would have told him we were. Would have told him I was looking for him.
I watched the car, but wriggly wasn't moving around a lot, I could see him in there, but he was beginning to worry me. I didn't know a lot about junk, but I figured even high he should move around more than he did. I paid for my coffee and went out, shaking him awake, slapping him in the face a few times. That when I saw the second needle in his hand. He stabbed towards my face, I jerked my hands up reflexively and felt the needle burn into the flesh between my thumb and first finger. It felt hot as he started to press down the plunger, and I jerked my hand way almost screaming as it ripped the syringe from his hands.
I punched him in the face with my left hand knocking him back into the car. My second hit went into his guts, making him retch onto the car floor. I didn't care I leapt into the car on top of him bashing him again and again with my left hand and my forehead. I felt his nose crush, felt a tooth crack, and finally managed to draw back. My left hand was covered in his blood, and some vomit, I didn't see any cuts on it, and had a flash of panic as I thought about what kind of sickness he might have from all his years shooting up.
I probably wasn't going to live through this though, if I didn't get killed by that guy Sal or one of his cronies, I was probably going to prison for the rest of my life. I looked at my other hand which I could feel throbbing, but numbly. The needle had gone almost all the way through my hand. I could see the dark tip right under the skin. A large bruise was forming around it though, getting darker as I watched. I jerked the needle out, noting he had pushed about a third of it into my hand. I was hoping some of it had been lost before it had stabbed me, but I could feel a tickly feeling building up in my chest, like when I'd gotten laughing gas at the dentist.
I didn't know how much it would take to get me high, but suddenly I was smiling and my hand felt great. I looked at it and flexed it several times watching the bruise swell. I had to get out of here though, I climbed back into the driver’s seat and took off, heading south until I was lost in the woods and didn't see any more houses. I pulled over leaned out the door and puked, not really minding that I was throwing up, but it did clear my head a little. I had no idea where I was, but I knew I had a problem. Wriggly was moaning in the back seat, when I looked back at him his face looked all crushed in. Both his eyes seemed to be swelled shut, just looking at him made me feel ill. He had sold me out, sold out Niklas, after all the work we did to hide. After killing that muscle guy and the drug dealer, he had gone and ruined that by selling us out to Sal Rogelio. He had to have known who Sal was when we were there. That's why he wanted us to leave. So he could call Sal, make some money. I could feel my chest heaving, my hands were trembling and I wanted to hit him again, but he was already hurting pretty bad.
I finally couldn't take it any more I got out opened the back door and dragged him out dropping him roughly to the concrete. I kicked him ribs, but pulled the hit a little, I just didn't have the heart to once I saw him lying there. He was pretty dazed, and wouldn't answer me when I tried to get him to acknowledge me. I dragged him off the road a little into the woods and leaned him against a tree facing away from the car. He came too finally, staring at me blankly for a few minutes. I crouched down in front of him.
"You fucked me up." his voice rasped out of his swollen mouth, streaks of blood were dried on his face.
"Yeah."
"Sorry man, being and addict, it’s a bitch." Only one eye seemed to be tracking me, the other gradually was drifting off to the side. I felt like crying, I had blinded him, I really lost it.
"Just for the money?" I asked swallowing down a lump in my throat.
His head nodded a little before he lifted it back up to answer me. "Yeah."
"Fuck" I said softly barely a whisper.
"Give me the rest of that shot?" he asked lifting a weak limp arm. "Just one more shot, then leave me here. You'll never see me again." A tear formed in his eye, rolled down his cheek riding a ridge of dried blood.
"Okay." I hung my head, tears of my own welling up. I walked back to the car and picked up the needle from the floor where I'd thrown it.
I crouched down in front of him, placed the needle in his hand, rocked back on my heels. He bent his head and worked the needle into his limp arm. I pulled my pistol out and pointed it at his head, tears blurred my vision, I knew my hand was shaking, but I wouldn't miss him from this close. I almost didn't shoot, but then his head swung up, his one eye met mine steadily and I swear his swollen lips pulled up in a tight smile.
I pulled the trigger.

This Guy #5

We had no problems getting a hotel room. The dealer kept fading in and out of conscience and I was really beginning to worry about him dying. We had him in the room propped up on the bed when he finally came awake. He looked kind of gray, with sweat beaded up on his forehead, but his body went cold and hot in turns.
"Thought you was cops." his voice was thick and slurred. His head dropped chin resting on his chest.
"What! What!" I slapped him not too gently across the face, shaking him.
He wasn’t responding, I shook him harder and foggy white drool leaked from the corner of his mouth. I put my ear to his chest; his pulse was racing then seemed to pause, like a sputtering engine. It caught again then stopped, this time it didn't come back. I started pumping his chest, but couldn’t bring myself to try rescue breathing. I had to give up, he was dead. I pushed his limp head over and had a glimpse of something shiny inside his mouth. I used a pen from the nightstand and pried open his teeth, there was a plastic bag stuck in his cheek all chewed up. The dead guy was staring at me and for a few minutes I stared back, his eyes looked different in death, they were blank, waiting for something to fill them, but nothing ever would. I pushed his head back over so he was looking at the curtains.
Niklas was standing at the end of the bed, white as a ghost.
"What the fuck dude?" he sounded panicked. "I didn’t kill him with the car. Did I?" He sank into a chair.
"No man, don't worry." My heart was racing and I was angry as hell, but I tried to calm him down. "Fucker had some drugs or something and when he ran or after we had him on the ground he fucking swallowed it. Shit!" I yelled slamming my fist down on the nightstand.
Niklas slumped down in the chair, his lips were moving silently as he stared blankly at the dead guy on the bed. I was kneeling on the floor next to the bed rubbing the side of my hand gently. I still had long thin bruises on both hands from the phone cord, hitting the table had hurt.
"Well shit." I looked from the corpse to Niklas. "What do we do now?"
"You're asking me? It's your plan." He held his hands up.
"Alright, we got his cell and beeper. We get to a computer and look up as many of these numbers as we can. If nothing’s listed we can at least get locations on anything but the cell phone numbers." We got our stuff together wiped down what we could of the room.
"I wonder how the news will play this." Niklas snorted and nodded to the guy on the bed.
“Don’t worry dude, I’m sure they won’t think he got run over to death.” We both laughed a little. I was a little surprised we both were so calm about another killing. Then again this guy had suicided, we were only partially responsible.
Niklas had a couple pre-paid credit cards set up under Niklas and Alexander, something I never would have thought of. They were incredibly easy to get, in fact he had got these at a Radio Shack, and after setting up he was able to use them over the phone or online without even having the card yet!
We left our car in a parking garage at the airport and he called down to one of the other car rental places and set up a new one. I was surprised how good he was at this, I probably would have been out trying to hotwire an old Camaro or something. The new car wasn't as nice, we actually moved down a few notches and were driving a tan sedan that smelled like smoked salmon and feet.
At the hotel we spent a few hours combing through the numbers on the cell and beeper, over half must have been cell phones and weren't much use to us, but we got out a map and circled the blocks the other numbers came from. Our biggest problem now was that the most numbers came from the same block we had picked the guy up in. We had to bring someone else in to help us, someone we could trust. More important someone who wouldn't hate us for dragging them into this mess we'd made.
After talking it out it wasn't hard for us to agree on who to ask, Stet. I hadn't seen him for a couple years. Niklas said he wasn't doing much, just hopping from job to job pretty irresponsible. That raised my eyebrows a little, Niklas the embezzler calling Stet irresponsible, I let it go though, they had some personal shit going on, and I wasn't going to get involved.
Stet and I had our own problems, mainly stemming from the fact I'm a real prick sometimes. After high school I had moved into a spare room in his house, we got along really good until I started messing up everything else I was doing. Things went downhill for me, and I took it out on him, he never said a word, and actually seemed sad to see me go when I finally moved out. I talked to him a few times after that but I never apologized to him, even after I'd recognized how much of a dick I'd been.
It surprised him that I called, but he agreed to meet me out at a diner near his place. He started to ask me a question, probably about where Niklas was, but stopped himself not wanting to talk about it on the phone. I asked Niklas to let me go alone
"Why?"
"I have to be sure we're cool before I drag him into anything." I answered, throwing my coat on. I was back in my normal street clothes, and felt like a man again.
"Okay." he nodded, I started out the door. "Alex." he called after me.
I stopped and turned towards him. "Don't kill anyone."
He gave a tight lipped smile, enough that I thought he was trying to make a joke.
"Depends how good the coffee is." I quipped back. His smile looked more genuine now, grinning back as I flipped him off and headed out.
Judging from the torn up sugar packets Stet must have been at the diner a good hour or so. He looked at me blankly a second or two before recognition hit and he got up to meet me.
"Damn, you got fat."
"Because I eat runts like you for breakfast." We both grinned and shared a man hug, right hands clasped, quick pound to the back with a fist.
He slid back into his seat as I took off my coat and threw it onto the bench ahead of me. He lit a cigarette while the waitress poured me a coffee, I must have been eyeing his cigarette hungrily, and he slid the pack over the table to me. I considered for as long as it took my hand to reach them, pulled one out. "No thanks, I quit a couple years ago."
He slid the lighter over to me, one eyebrow raised as I lit and slowly drew in a deep lungful. Toasted tobacco and menthol cool swirled up my nose tickling loose memories of many other cigarettes I'd shared with him and Niklas, some in this very diner.
"Surprised you're not coughing."
"I was made to defile myself." A second drag actually made me dizzy for a second. "It's been a long time Stet."
He shrugged, "I haven't really done anything."
"Ha, me neither." Our conversation was light, just two old friends talking. We filled in the few years’ worth of gaps back and forth without any great detail until the waitress had finally started ignoring us, realizing we were only there for coffee.
"Do you like your job?" I asked, surprising him a little.
"It's a job. You have a better offer?" he flashed a little smile, he thought he knew something.
"So what do you know so far?"
"I figure you came back to help Niklas" He stressed the name with a wink “out of some trouble. You hid out in Philly for a while, decided to go after whatever trouble had been chasing you." He looked to me for confirmation.
"Close" I answered. He smiled a big Cheshire grin at me, and then I connected it. "You talked to Wriggly?"
He nodded. "Niklas' roommate called me, he hadn't been there for over a week and the cops came looking for him.” I stiffened drew back a little involuntarily, I couldn't help myself and I looked around the room suspiciously.
"Damn, did they say what for?"
"No, but there was a story in the paper about the place he worked getting robbed of a couple million. With him missing it didn't take much to figure out."
I sat stunned for a few minutes, "A couple million? He only took about half a mil. What the hell?" I could feel the little wheels in my head clicking as my mind raced.
"Shit!" I exploded slapping the table. The waitress started over, but I waved her off trying to force an apologetic smile. Then lowering my voice to barely a mumble, "That was why they sent This Guy to kill him. He was just a front for their real inside guy who stole the big money. Fuck!"
"What? What guy?" Stet asked.
I'd missed it completely, so had Niklas, he was just a fall guy for some prick, probably higher up in the company than him. That meant they were probably still hunting for him, or if they knew about me, us.
They needed him dead and messy so they could close the books on the whole thing, leaving the guy inside free and clear. I didn't really understand why he'd want to keep working there after scoring a couple million, but maybe he was setting up for another hit.
I explained to Stet about the hit man, then the muscle guy watching his eyes get wide. I wasn't specific, just left it at Had To. He nodded agreement when I told him about Niklas being set up, it made sense. I filled in the rest including the drug dealer, and the neighborhood we were now shut out of.
We smoked another cigarette, I sat quiet letting Stet think about what he'd heard. He stared out the window rolling a spoon around in his hand. Finally he turned back, a mischievous little boy grin on his face.
"Fuck it I'm in. Guns, mobsters, drug dealers?" he chuckled, "Damn glad you came back to town son."

This Guy #4

The rooms at the Marriott were really nice after the last places we'd stayed. I did my best to use all the hot water they had, but eventually the heat made me dizzy and I was forced to admit defeat. I threw open the windows letting in a blast of chill air. Sitting on the end of the bed facing the window, my heart pounded, I reveled in the sensations not letting any thoughts intrude.
Niklas let himself in from the sitting room with an armful of clothing. He tossed a few items onto the bed I was sitting on.
"I didn't know your size, so I just got the biggest they had." He grinned mocking me.
"What the fuck is this?" I held up the clothes and turned to him. He had actually bought a suit for me. It was some dark shade of grey, there was an ivory colored shirt that might have been silk.
Niklas quirked an eyebrow at me, "It's a suit, Alex" he paused slightly at my new name. We had agreed to only using the new names, so we wouldn't slip up when it was important.
"No shit?" sarcasm dripping, "Didn't I say something about jeans, t-shirts, maybe a jacket?" I tossed the clothes onto the bed.
"It won't work." he shook his head, "If we're going to find him, we'll have to check bars and clubs like where he found me. You can't get into them wearing jeans, looking like some redneck biker." He had given this some thought; grudgingly I pulled on the shirt and pants. It actually fit rather well, looked good too, who knew Niklas was such a fashion guru. I teased him a little but I wasn't that unhappy with how I looked.
I did have to draw the line at the shoes he picked though. They were very fashionable shoes I'm sure, but with the soles they had I was pretty sure if i had any trouble the first thing I'd do is slip, fall, and bust my head open. Niklas assured me that after i scuffed up the soles a little bit, the leather would give me good enough traction. I must have looked longingly at my combat boots, Niklas shook his head "No way man, It would look ridiculous."
I had to bow to his knowledge in this area, for me fashion had always been easy. How scary did I want to look? If I needed to dress up I put a button-up denim shirt on and tucked it in, maybe polished my boots. I felt almost naked the clothes were so light and loose. I was like a real gangster when I tucked the pistol into my waistband, as far to left hip as I could so it would hide behind my coat. I practiced getting it out a few times and decided that I was going to avoid any quick draw situations. Otherwise I was going to shoot myself, or rip my pants off.
"Got your passport?" I asked him. He patted his coat for a second the nodded.
"So where are we going?" Niklas asked, I guess if he was supply and logistics, I must be operations.
"We're going back to where those guys grabbed me." He looked surprised at first then nodded.
"Then what?"
"That drug dealer called somebody after I talked to him. I want to find out who he called, who else he knows."
We were outside now and I stopped I had no idea what we were driving now. We had brought the beamer up, but decided to ditch it at a nightclub downtown. We took a cab to the hotel.
"Over here." Niklas used a remote to chirp the alarm on a black Lincoln Towncar with really dark tinted windows and brought chrome hubcaps.
"Nice, We'll blend right in." I can't help it I'm just sarcastic..
We drove around for two days before I saw the guy we were looking for. He saw us too, and flipped us off while he walked his corner. He must have figured us for feds or cops. He didn't recognize me I knew he couldn't see us through the side windows.
We watched him for a while then I had Niklas pull up to him.
"If he runs I want you to nail the gas and run his ass down." I instructed, he looked nervous his hands throttling the wheel, then his jaw clenched and he nodded.
We got up next to the guy and I opened up the door, gun in hand but held low I stepped out. He saw the gun right away, maybe he recognized me, and in either case he spun on his heel and took about two steps before Niklas nailed the gas. The car lurched forward tires squealing, and thudded into the runner. Niklas didn't let off the gas though the guy flew forward a foot or two landing on his hands then the car rammed him in the ass plowing him face first into the concrete of the sidewalk. The car finally stopped I ran up to them.
Niklas stepped out of the driver’s side door with the 38 in his hand and was looking over the hood of the car trying to see where the guy was. The dealer was screaming and when I got there my stomach lurched. The dealer's leg right above the knee was under the tire, trapped. His foot was twisted in a crazy direction, ankle probably broken. He was thrashing around trying to pull himself out and screaming curses pretty incoherently. I stepped up and kicked him in the side catching him beneath the ribs. The wind whooshed out of him and he gasped trying to suck it back in. My whole body trembled with adrenaline, my legs felt shaky but when he hollered again I kicked him again in the same spot.
"Ra.. I mean Niklas!" I yelled, "Dude you gotta back the car off him or I can't get him up!"
Niklas actually grinned sheepishly and jumped back in the car jerking it into gear and lurching back a couple yards. I grabbed the dealer by his jacket, trying to pull it up to tangle his arms so he wouldn't fight. He wasn't moving though, I guess the car rolling back over his ankle had made him faint. People were starting to watch from up and down the street, but so far no one had said anything or looked like they were going to interfere.
Niklas held the back door open and I rolled the limp body into the back. I was in the back with him, Niklas jumped in and we took off.
I stripped the guy down to his underwear looking for a gun, but he wasn't armed. I pulled off all his jewelry took his cell phone and pager and looked for any bleeding. He was unconscious but seemed okay, other than his ankle that was already swollen to about the size of a grapefruit, all purple and angry looking. I tied his hands in front of him with his shoelaces, then took my own shoelaces and tied his bound arms to a slipknot around his neck. I was pretty sure he couldn't run, and short of strangling himself he couldn't do much with his hands.
I realized I was breathing pretty hard, my heart felt like bursting out of my ribcage. I rubbed my hands on my legs to stop the trembling from the adrenaline.
"Where the fuck are we going?" Niklas yelled from the front.
"Shit. I don't know." I tried to think of a place we'd be secluded. "We got to go somewhere there are no people."
"Ok, ok- I got it we'll go towards the shore, take one of the old fire roads off the highway into the pines?" He looked at me in the mirror.
"No way man!" I shook my head, "Too many chances. What if we got stuck in the sand or a fucking ranger came by?"
"Shit!" Niklas was a driving a little too fast, hands clenched on the steering wheel.
"Slow down man. Go back towards Trenton, there's that little shit-hole motel. We can drive the car right up to one of the rooms in back."
"You sure?" Niklas looked at me in the mirror.
"Yeah we'll look like a couple of gay foreigners. We'll play the porn real loud so no one will hear this guy."

This Guy #3

I didn't really feel anything for the muscle guy I killed either. I was pretty wrung out and tired by the time I got back, and eventually between the drunken sobs and hysterical giggles I dropped off to sleep. My Friend took the bottle and my gun, and eventually he must have gone to sleep in the other bed. When I woke up it was light out but still pretty early. I didn't have a hangover and My Friend had hidden my gun, probably worried that I was going to go completely mental. Then again I had a fair recollection of how I'd been gibbering the night before, not something to inspire confidence. If it had been anyone but him I would have been embarrassed. Being reduced to tears by exhaustion, adrenaline overload, and near death experiences may be a healthy reaction, but I never liked to cry, not for any reason.
After a shower and some coffee, My Friend woke up and got dressed we went up the street for some breakfast. He glanced my way a couple times, looking away real fast when I noticed, finally I said,
"Dude, I'm fine. Seriously I was just fucking wiped. You know?"
He agreed out loud but doubt hung in his eyes, and the way his face didn't relax. I told him about my trip, when I got to my kidnapping he swore, "Damn! You fucking idiot! What the hell were you thinking?" I shrugged and continued; I glossed over the strangling a little, but told him enough to get the idea. He'd read it in the paper soon enough, suddenly I started, a memory of the feel of his pulse beating through that phone wire came out of nowhere. My hands started shaking, and I shook them and clenched them trying to ignore it.
I figured I was still tired, and probably starving. The late night boozing probably hadn’t helped. I attacked breakfast like I was rabid; eating a full plate of eggs, pancakes, and hash browns, then had two pieces of cherry pie with ice cream.
"That must be why all the killers in the Godfather were so fat." My Friend quipped. I jerked my head up and locked his eyes, surprised at his comment. It was funny though and I started laughing almost right away. Now that I was done eating all that food was sitting real heavy in my gut. It was like a big greasy bowling ball and after a few seconds of quiet belching I made a run for the bathroom and threw it all up.
I got back to the table the waitress a little old lady in red plaid came up
"You're not bowlemic, are you honey?" she asked, with a slow southern accent putting a hand on my arm. I'm not usually comfortable with strangers touching me like that, but she seemed nice so I didn’t jerk away.
"No, I just had too much to drink last night, my eyes got bigger than my stomach I guess." I forced a rueful smile, rubbed at my stomach in a pantomime of some cartoon character, or Wally Cleaver.
"Well just sit down there I'll bring you a cup of tea." My friend was laughing silently into his coffee cup. I gave him a glare but had to go back to smiling when our waitress showed up with a plate of crackers in little cellophane packets and a steaming cup of tea.
"Now here you go, just take it slow, you'll be alright." She patted my arm and swept off to another table.
"Now honey!" My Friend mimicked quietly. The tea was good though and I left a hundred with the check on the table when we left. My Friend kept teasing me for a while until I punched him in the arm, then he got worse. We were in pretty high spirits, considering, and decided to go up to Philly to try and contact some people I knew.
It had been a while, I had been out of state so long the first few haunts we stopped by hadn’t even heard of the people I was looking for. The street drug crowd is like that though, more than a few months in one spot meant you were a plant from the police, luring in suckers. I finally got a hold of an old friend we called Wriggly, never knew his real name. He pretended he was called that because he chewed gum like a fiend, even when so high he couldn't walk, but we called him that because he was so thin and small. Cops had a hard time arresting him, they just couldn’t keep their grip on him.
One night a few years before after some pretty serious drinking, I had started brawling with some bearded ape named Jeremiah who tried to pretend he was tougher than me. He was tough enough to take a hit though, and we were standing in the mouth of a one block street slugging away at each other. We must have both been pretty drunk, we were giving each other turns, and I deliberately was avoiding punching him in the nose. After a little bit a pair of cops ran up and pulled us apart. I don't think we resisted too much, my arms were tired, and the last few punches I'd thrown had missed and skimmed off his face cutting him a couple times, and tearing quite a bit of skin off my knuckles.
Wriggly got all hyper or something because he charged the cop holding me. He had the cop around the throat and was kneeing him in the back screaming about pigs and LA and a bunch of crazy shit. I don't think he was even high that night, but maybe he was having a flashback. The other cop left Jeremiah against the wall and tried to pull Wriggly off his partner. Wriggly bashed him in the face with the back of his head and leapt to the new challenger throwing punches and curses, spitting and screaming in turns. Both cops leapt onto him and tried to wrestle him to the ground, it looked like they had him too. Then his arms reached out over his head and he just pulled himself forward twisting a little and he pulled himself right out of their hands. He was up and running up the street screaming laughter and both cops started chasing him. Me and Jeremiah shared a look then he shrugged and we both walked off in opposite directions.
They never did catch Wriggly and we avoided that section of town after that. All wriggly would say was that watching us fight had "got his blood up"; I guess he felt left out. Jeremiah and I ran into each other from time to time with no problems, but one night he must have started with the wrong guy. From what I heard he hit some guy once, and that guy's friends pulled pistols and shot him 6 times. The words "Fair Fight" seem to be losing their meaning in the world.
Wriggly put us up in his apartment, he hadn't changed much in the couple years I was gone, and he didn't seem to realize I had left. He was thinner and twitchier, he told me later he had stopped a bad heroine addiction by switching to crystal, and now he was trying to beat his meth addiction using coke.
Wriggly had a fortune tucked away in different banks from some childhood trauma, surprising for an addict to be able to hold onto anything, but it was so tightly scheduled even when he was out of his mind sick he couldn't squeeze any extra out of the accounts. Then eventually he'd get the next check and sometimes he'd blow it right away and do it all over again. Sometimes though he'd resist, and spend months living like a normal person, collecting CD's and chasing girls. He was in a good way now though, the drugs were working for him now, and he had a sideline going. A few guys who'd take gear from him and sell it somewhere else, he made a pretty good profit.
It made My Friend nervous as hell to stay there. He had more reason than ever to fear the cops right now, plus he never liked drugs to begin with. I was being nice to him and declining what Wriggly offered me, figuring I had enough problems without laying around stoned waiting for them to show up at the door. I did talk to a few of the guys that came by though. I needed new ids for both me and my friend. I needed ones that could stand up to traffic stop scrutiny. It seemed pretty impossible, I ran down a couple of rumors, but each guy I met had really shady paper, and one I'm sure was a cop. I got lucky, I was so paranoid they got nothing from our conversation that they could take me for.
It was a matter of time though, I figured if I hit one more undercover cop, they'd pull me in and try to scare something out of me. I got more careful, paid the meth runners some extra cash to look out for anything like that, and in one case I had the guy go in and buy some for me. It was bad, amateur work though, I burned it and put out the word that artist was crap. I wasn't having any luck and was getting pissed. Wriggly swapped our two pistols for two different ones, only one of ours had been used, but they were from the same shop, something I never thought of, but Wriggly did. Our new guns were a retired cop's Smith & Wesson, and a 38 special that was so filed down you couldn't even see the name on it. They were automatic prison time if they were found, but we couldn't go without guns and couldn't very well apply for a concealed carry permit.
The NJ press was all over the strangling, and shooting, reporting the start of a brutal mafia war. In Philly it never made the papers at all. There were a couple of vague descriptions of me, but they could fit any over 200lb white guy. Mostly they were looking at who ordered it, figuring me for some out of town assassin. If I wasn't so scared most of the time I probably would have laughed.
Wriggly was great about us staying, but word started to spread that he had hired some muscle and was getting big. We were starting to build him a reputation he didn't want so we had to get out of there. I suppose we could have gotten a room in some sleazy hotel for cash and no questions, but police raided them sometimes. Finally we met a guy who could get some German passports. He had friends over there that we sent our passport photos to, they had them put on their passports and then sent them over by FedEx all stamped and ready to go. They cost 30 grand, but when we got them they were real, or at least good enough to fool us so it worked out. We had a little less than 90 days before the visa expired, but for now we were almost legit. My Friend became Niklas Farber, I became Alexander Seiler. We got a pair of rooms in the Marriott and started planning our next move. I was determined this time we'd take our time and find a way to get That Guy off us for good.