places: second wake

I stood over him with the 45 leveled at the crown of his head.

“I underestimated you…I shouldn’t have tried that.”

“Don’t try anything else.  I don’t want anymore surprises.”

“Don’t worry.  I’m done.”

“I lost my gun.”

I sat down next to him.  We were looking at each other in the darkness.

“I can’t seem to find it.”

“I had checked your pockets.  Where did you get the piece?”

“Always check the trunks of bad men like myself.  I’ve got guns in my trunk.  Bad men like me have to play dirty to live.  You never know what’s around the corner.  Magicians pull rabbits out of their hats.  Me, I pull guns out of mine.”

We sat there together.

“You wouldn’t mind fetching something from my trunk would you?”

I glanced at him.  “I didn’t think so.”

“Clayton, Give me a lead on the Soviets.  Give me some names.  Some places.”

“Places?  The only places I know Johnny are your places – the places I sent you.”  Clayton moved his hands around his torso, the folds of his shirt, trying to put a finger on his wound.  He felt the cold in his extremities, yet warmth pooling on his lap.  He kept talking. “I’m going to tell you everything, because I am at my end.  I am going to tell you because we have so much in common.”

“We’ve got nothing in common.”

“Oh yes.  We’ve got things in common.  Camille…we have her.”

“I said don’t...”

“What are you going to do - shoot me?”  I can talk about her all I want.  Did you know she was my sister?”

“No, she told me you weren’t related.”

“She told you what I told her to tell you.  It’s not her fault.  I made her promise.  She’s a good sister.”

“Camille is one and death is another commonality.  You and I are both dead men Johnny.”

“Where have I heard that before,” I replied.

“You have no hope Johnny.  I have no names for you.  Even if you did have names, you could do nothing about it.  I’ve naturalized a lot of aliens as of late.  I’m sure they’ll make fine outstanding citizens.  If you get in their way - they’ll kill you of course.   If I were you, I wouldn’t stand in the way of their progress.”

“Thanks to you.”

“...and you.”   He was shivering.  “I’m catching a chill.  Can I have my coat and hat?”

“Sure.” I obliged.

“You have no hope because you are outnumbered - outnumbered by people you’ve never seen.  I have no hope because you are going to let me bleed out.”

I lit one of his cigars.

“I can’t blame you.  After all, I did try to kill you.”   Clayton paused, and continued like a talkative drunk. “I got my orders from couriers, and I deliver my packages to addresses by courier.  That’s it.  That’s all you’ve got.  I could help you more, but I kind of hope you experience the same kind of bad luck as me.”

“I thought you were going to be hard to get to talk.”

“Oh yes.  I have just recently discovered that I am very talkative when I’m dying.”   He fidgeted a little. “This is taking forever.  Where did you shoot me anyway?”

“I can’t tell.  It’s dark.”

“You’re not very sympathetic.”

“I did get your coat and hat.”

“Yes – yes - you did at that...and my Cubans.   I am sleepy.  I’d like my bed.  I want my warm bed.”

Clayton fell back on the ground.

I don’t know why I lingered there.  Most men I’ve seen die - died quick.  Tonight I had to watch two kinds of men die.  Clayton seemed to have been trying to talk me to death.  I wanted him to spill it before the guns were pulled.  The conversation was over.

I had no good reason to help him live.  I’ve known men like Clayton before.   He wasn’t going to see morning no matter what he said or what angle he played.  I was going to get it in the back if I let him live.

Adam should’ve bit the head off that serpent - that’s what a sister once told me.  That nun had a hardness on her face - a look as if she'd bit several heads off herself.  A man in my place is going to have to treat them all the same.  I can't afford to look back.

“Let’s end this now.  What do you say?”

The grip tightened on my gun.

Clayton clumsily rolled around and got to his knees.  “I don’t want to die here.  I don’t want to die like this.”  He struggled to stand to his feet and then started to walk away as if he were leaving for an appointment.  He put on his fedora and tipped it my way.  He coughed a little and cleared his throat.

The last thing Clayton said was, “You can keep the cigars.”

I knew he wasn’t going far.  He walked away.  Not knowing where he was – Clayton walked the wrong way into the woods.  I watched his form until he was gone – beyond sound – beyond sight.

I drew on the cigar in the darkness, felt the warm of it on my fingertips.

places: you're dead

He looked hard and defiant at me.

I grinned at him.  I didn’t bat an eye.

“You’re dead!”

“That’s what I heard.’

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“You’re life isn’t worth a plugged nickel.”

“I’ve known that for quite sometime now.  I don’t have anything to lose - so I’d talk if I were you.”

“Everyone has something to lose Johnny - even you.”

“Camille.”  He smiled knowing it would set me off.

"Mention her name again and I will plant a bullet in your head."

“By the way, I talked with Rod tonight.”

“He’s alive?  No, he couldn’t have survived what we had in store for him.”

“Clayton.  I’m not supposed to be alive either.’

“No.  Larkin is dead and you lived by some stroke of luck.  I don’t know how you lived or why you’re doing this but...”

“I am doing this because Rod told me that I am to kill you.”

“He’s one of Uncle Sam’s badges - he wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Nevertheless Rod told me to kill you.  He told me that if I kill you, you can’t kill me. So I came tonight to cut the head off the snake.  Perhaps the rest of my troubles will disappear when you’re dead.”

“Dream on.  Rod knew better than that.  I’m not the one behind all this.  I’m just a supplier.  I’m on the payroll just like you.  If you kill me – you still end up dead.  You’ll see.”

Clayton kept his eyes on me.  I moved even nearer so he could see how serious I was. 

He shouted, “Larkin is dead.  Larkin is DEAD!  You wouldn’t be here asking questions if Rod wasn’t dead.  Rod knew everything I was up to on my end.  He was embedded, I trusted him - he KNEW everything.   After I was informed of his real identity, he had to be killed.  It’s apparent to us all that he stayed on the job so he could find out who exactly I was working for.  He got caught reaching too deep into the cookie jar.  There’s no way he could have survived tonight.”

“Yes. He’s dead.  His body isn’t far from here.   Let’s just say that killing you was his last request.”

Clayton’s features softened. For the first time he seemed to sound like a regular guy. “Put an end to me and they’ll find someone else to do my job.  This doesn’t make any sense.  I am just the middle man here.  There are bigger fish to fry.”

“Listen Johnny.  Let me go and I’ll get you out of this.”  He was full of it of course. 

“Maybe you can, but I still have questions that need answering.” 

He yelled.  A vein the size of a garden hose popped out the side of his neck.  “Questions?”  Do you want to live or die?”

“That’s a coincidence, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Clayton face hung down for a minute or two.  He just gazed at the ground.  I could only guess that he was trying to keep from losing his head - before I decided to help him lose it for him.

“The parcels?” I asked.

Clayton looked bewildered.

“Money and documents.  I assume when you said you were a supplier, you were supplying false identification for aliens?”

“Yes. Clayton replied, “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“You’re a counterfeiter.”

“The money is real - supplied by those for whom I am working.  I supplied the counterfeit documents.  They are quite good actually.  You were just guessing that they are forged.”

“You expect me to believe otherwise?”

“Where are these people coming from?  I’ve delivered a lot of packages, a lot of money, a lot of false papers.”

“You’re just trying to get yourself killed, aren’t you Johnny?”

“I want to know what kind of trouble I’m in.”

“You’re in deep – unless you let me help you.  You already know too much.”

“So tell me the rest of it.”

“Who are these people you work for?  Where are they coming from.  Is this espionage - saboteurs?  This has to be subversive - too big. What’s going on?"

"To big for you Johnny." Clayton said matter-of-factly.

"Tell me what's going on."

Clayton looked up at me with a queer look.  I guess he was trying to sound like a parent scolding a dim-witted child, but he really wasn't in the position to pull it off.  “Listen, Johnny, I didn’t ask.  Sometimes if you ask, you don’t get the job, worse - you'll end up dead.”

“You of all people should know this.  You do the job and take the money.  I’m just like you Johnny.  I’ve got somewhere I’m trying to go too - just like you.  I’ll wash my hands of this when this deal is done.  I’ll walk away from this after I’m finished with my contract. I know you can relate.”

“You think you know me?”

“I know you better than you think I do.  I know you.  I know you love Camille.  I know how she feels about you.  We’re all in the same boat - going up the same short river.”

‘Keep Camille out of this.”

“Johnny, Camille is part of this whether you like it or not.”

“I said keep Camille out!”

“Johnny, we are both trying to get somewhere.  Let’s let bygones be bygones.  I realize now that you aren’t as dumb as I presumed you first to be.  After tonight, I realize that you are far from expendable.  I can get you out of this - that is - if Rod is indeed dead.

“Dirty money.”

“You knew it was dirty money from the start.  From the first night and all the nights you came to my office and put more and more of it in your pocket.  Don’t play Boy Scout with me.  We are a lot alike Johnny, we both know that dirty money spends just as well as clean.  The good thing about dirty money is that it’s easier to make.  Well, what do you say?”

“I need to know who’s behind this Clayton.”

“You’re not listening to me Johnny”, he said impatiently. “My wrist’s hurt, my head hurts, my feet are cold, and I want to go home now!”

“Soviets?”

“Yes Johnny. Soviets.”

“Communists?”

“Of course Johnny, no twixt the two.  There’s nothing wrong with people wanting to come to the new world.  Nothing wrong with people reaching for a big slice of that pie!  They want in, and willing to pay for a quicker way.  Surely you can relate to that?  They are very generous Johnny.”

“And you?  What are you?”

“I am homegrown American Johnny.  I don’t see all communists as bad.  They are willing to do business. As you can plainly see, I am a capitalist.  I am a manufacturer,  a supplier, an employer, and a possible cash cow for you.”

“A capitalist?”

“Yes Johnny.  I’ll let you in on the ground floor if you’ll let me get back to work.  Seriously, I’m a good friend to have.”

I walked to the car and turned the headlights off.

I walked to the tree and untied him.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.  He put it to the back of his head and then inspected the rag.

“That was quite a blow....I am surprised I’m not bleeding.”

He moved around and stretched a bit.  “You did the right thing Johnny - you’ll see.”

I was getting in the passenger side to let him drive.  It was if I knew what was going to happen, even though it was impossibility for it to happen. Instincts. A quick movement from the opposite side. He drew a gun.  He drew a gun from out of nowhere.  I saw it from the corner of my eye, as he stood on the other side of the car.  Like William S. Hart, I had my gun cleared long before Clayton had his.  I shot him through the open front windows.

He backed up a couple of steps and stood there.

I walked around the car with my gun still trained on him.

He seemed dumbfounded.

He then sat down in front of me.

places: spilling it

“I didn’t bring you here to answer your questions.”

“Then ask me your questions.  I have headache for obvious reasons.  I’d like to go home soon."

“I want to know all about Rod."

“If you are who I believe you to be, you should know what’s going on with Rod.”

“Answer the question,” I asked.

“You know good and well who Rod is, and WE DID what you asked!  He’s not going to be a problem for us.  I told you people that I needed just a little time.  You’re being too impatient - too rash. Why am I here?”

Clayton went an unexpected direction and I played along.

He started sounding cocky, more like his old self.  I guess he was thinking that he was going to walk away from this.

“How do you know he’s dead?” I asked.

“He should be dead by now.  We were at the house waiting on a call - a call to confirm Larkin was taken care of.  I was waiting when you....came out of no where.  I need to get back there.”

I stood in the dark trying to make up questions, respond, without giving anything up.  I needed to keep my questions short and listen hard.

Clayton started back up.

“Well!  Is this what I am here for?  Did you bring me out here to kill me because you think I didn’t do what you asked?  What the hell is wrong with you people.  I’ve done everything you’ve asked.  I have delivered everything – every time and on time at that! You’re going to end the relationship just like that?

“And neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, nor the winds of change, nor a nation challenged, will stay us from the swift completion of our appointed rounds…”

“Get serious Clayton. What about the other guy?” I asked.

“The other guy is a nobody.  I told you that.  He’s probably dead by now too.”

“Probably?”  I’m a nobody. Rod was right.  It’s not very comforting to be expendable.  How on earth did I walk away from there?

“I wasn’t paid to kill the driver.”

“Isn’t it highly likely that the driver was embedded too?” I asked.

“I strongly doubt it.  Like I said, he’s a nobody..I was willing to throw him in the deal.”

I answered with silence.

He added, “I doubt if Johnny lived.  I told my men to kill Larkin upon his arrival.  The driver either died there or would have come back to the house.  If he comes back, I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.  It’s been two hours since they left.  He never came back, so I suspect that his body is being disposed of with Larkins.”

He was wiggling and showing discomfort in the twine.  He didn’t seem as scared.  “Will you please untie me and let me go now?  This is ridiculous.  Why am I still tied up?”

Clayton seemed to feel emboldened, sounding a little more like himself again.  “I have things to do and you won’t let me do them.”

I took a few steps toward him.  His eyes searched harder, trying to make my face.  I didn’t care anymore.  I’ve learned that he was the one behind Rod’s death.  I learned that there is a larger organization involved that Clayton is catering to.  I also had learned that Rod more than likely was who he said he was.  I moved closer.

I was ready for him to see me.

His eyes squinted against the light.“Wait a minute." His eyes for a moment widened and then... "Wait a minute!....You!"   

Clayton started laughing, faking confidence he couldn’t afford.  I could tell by his tone that he was going to try to seize control of the conversation.  He was heading up the wrong ally.  As of tonight, I wasn’t on his payroll anymore.  Besides, he’s the one tied up - and I the one holding the gun.

“What’s going on here?”  Clayton, this time, demanded.

I’m still asking the questions.

places: in the headlights

This was something I knew nothing about.  Interrogation.

I didn't have a place, so I ended up back in the woods not too far from where I had left Rod's corpse.  Driving toward the woods I had wondered if I had nabbed someone of use.

In all the excitement, I didn't know who I had actually taken.  The head that I'd struck, was contorted, a man completely surprise and in a moment of abject fear.  I didn't recognize the face while in that moment.

My mind was filled with all the events of the evening.  The questions were like a jig-saw puzzle - a challenge that I'm not too good at.  Tonight I was going to have to make a man talk. I didn't know how I was going to go about it.  I was going to have to wake him up, fill him fear, and force him to spill his guts.

I opened the trunk.

I heard moaning, but it was a dark hole.  I could only make out the shine of his shoes.

He was still limp.  I clumsily rolled him out onto the hard earth.

He moaned a little more.

"Can you stand?", I asked gruffly.

He quit moaning and became silent.

I cocked his .45 over his form.

He squirmed and slowly got to his knees.  I couldn't see him very well.  I know he couldn't see me.  I made him get up and walk toward and beyond the front of the car.  I leaned his back to the tree and tied him off there.  I turned on the headlights so I could interrogate him - so he couldn't see me.  The bright lights always seemed to work in the movies.

The beams bathed his figure in light.  He squinted and lowered his head.  After a moment of rolling his head around, he looked up.

Well whad'ya know - it was Clayton himself.  He was staring into the lights like a wild animal caught in the middle of the road.  He looked scared.  All those times I'd been to his place - he seemed confident and aloof - so sure of himself.

Wide-eyed, he was still like a cartoon - staring in my direction, trying to make out his captor.

"Who are you?"

"Why am I here?" 

"I think I'm bleeding."

Maybe my job is going to be easier than I thought.

places: batter up

I parked about a block away from Clayton's place. 

I took some packaging twine and made a sling for the sawed-off.  I got out of the car and strapped it on.  I made sure it was concealed beneath the trench coat.  I made enough leeway so I wasn't restricted...just in case I had to draw down.  It was in my favor that Clayton lived in a relatively secluded spot.  All I need to do is get in there quiet like.

I smothered my last fag and then  proceeded down the street on foot.  I soon exited the road and moved through the woods until I got to the edge of his estate.

I found a place to watch, to see if he had anyone walking around his grounds.  Usually it was the Russian.  If no one was watching the grounds, I had convinced myself to go on inside and visit Clayton at gunpoint.

Night wasn't going to last forever, but I decided to just be patient.

Seemed like old times.

Crouching in the darkness, my mind went back.  I was a shooter.  I joined many reconnaissance patrols.  We'd slip our ways pass the lines to capture a German from which to educe information. There were only a couple of times that we came back empty handed.  Most of the time though, we'd complete our shopping list.  The guys I went in with...had done it so much that it was like a choreographed dance. Talk about clockwork.  They knew where to look and how to move.  All I had to do was stay back and keep the stage safe.

I rarely had to fire a shot.  The last thing you wanted to do was have to open fire. I killed only when things got FUBAR.  Things could get scary real fast.  It's hard telling who's-who's in the dark.  The idea is to get in, grab some poor unsuspecting Hymie, and get out quick.  To get an officer was to hit the jackpot.

I have to be quiet and quick.

I moved around the edge, keeping myself hidden in the woods.  There wasn't much going on.  I kept edging my way around the house.

So far so good.

The woods ended on the other side of the house. I had full view, from the side, of the front porch.  No one was was there.

Do I go in?

There was a back door if it comes to that. Back door would be the best bet.

I could hear a fan in the window.  I heard crickets.  I stayed in the shadow of the woods straining all my senses.  Something was amiss.  Someone was out there.  I stayed in the darkness and watched.

I listened.

It couldn't be an animal.

Not unless animals around here wear leather shoes.

I waited motionless.

I noticed that my hands felt clammy and cold. I couldn't afford feeling fear.  You have to deal with it by forcing it back down with a broomstick. FOCUS!  Focus on the job.  I wiped my hands off my coat and reached down for the shot gun.

I heard something.

It was a cough.

It wasn't from the direction of the house, but rather from the road - from the direction that I came. I couldn't see anyone, but heard footsteps.

He's just down the road, walking this way.  My guess is that it was the Russian - no way to tell.

I unloosed the string from the shotgun.  My heart began to race.  It was as if I could audibly hear my heart thumping from my throat and out my ears.  I started taking slow controlled breaths.

Then I saw a light.  He lit something, a cigar, then tossed down the match. He wasn't in a hurry. 

"I got you." I whispered to myself.

I saw the red glow and saw the outline of his head and shoulders.  He stood there for a long time.

I stayed low and quiet.

Whatever happens next, I am going to have to move quiet and fast.  I felt violent.  I felt the kind of violence that could kill.  It's not anger.  What I felt was vicious and methodic.  It's what takes over when fear is given no foothold.

I watched until I was tired of watching. Here in the shadow of darkness, I was quickly losing my patience.


I was ready to get this over with.

At that moment, the figure started moving.  He moved at a steady pace - back toward the house.  I was going to have to cut him off before he gets to the steps.  I need to take him out, hopefully before he sees me.

Fortunately he wasn't looking my way.

He seemed to be in his own contented world of thought.  It was a nice night for some fresh air.  It was a nice night for a little stroll.  It wasn't going to be a nice night for what I had in store for him.

I jumped out of the brush and ran straight at him. I kept my eyes on him during the entire approach.

He didn't look. I was expecting him to.  I felt like I was making so much racket.  I could hear my breathing, the leaves beneath my feet. It seemed to take forever - all he had to do was look this way.  He would have had plenty of time to fire an entire clip in my direction.  I felt vulnerable in the moonlight.  I felt vulnerable charging across the front yard.

I grabbed the barrel of the gun and ran.

Yet more leaves crunched beneath my feet, but he just didn't look my way until it was too late.

He looked like a Bugs Bunny cartoon.  He wasn't expecting it.  I saw the momentary realization come across every feature of his face in that split second.  His eyes widened. His cigar dropped from his open mouth. He froze. He just stood there as I cocked back the stock like a Louisville Slugger and cracked it upside his head.

Of course he fell.

He didn't make a noise.  He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

No way was he getting up from that.

I grabbed his arms and drug him from the light of the yard.  I went through his pockets and pulled out a .45 and a set of keys.  I smiled.  It's obvious who he worked for.  I drug him down the road a little ways and then went back to the driveway to see which car the key fit.  There were two parked, and it fit the second.

I rolled it down the driveway and onto the road.  I cranked it as I kept my eyes on the front windows.

No one.

I put it in gear and pulled up to guy I clobbered.  I hoisted him in the trunk.  I drove down the road to where I left the other car.

I opened the trunk again and tied the unconscious man with the twine.  I gagged him with one of his socks and secured it to his mouth with more twine.  He wasn't going anywhere.


I drove my old ride into the woods. I drove it into brush and like an idiot, hadn't figured it would be hard climbing out.  I had to break the rear window in order to climb out.

What an idiot.  It took me about fifteen minutes to get back to the road.  Stumbling through the dark without a flashlight.  Apparently I quit thinking after knocking that guy out.

There was the road.  I looked both ways.  No one coming East or West.  No sounds.  Nobody.

The moon seemed bigger - as if it was God's spotlight.

I cocked the sawed-off and made a dash across the street.

I pulled off recklessly and swerved down the road. My hands were sweating again.  My heart was beating like a drum.  Again I felt it pound again up my throat and into my head.

I rolled down the window to catch the breeze - to cool me down.

Home run.

places: looking at a mystery

I headed back to town without any idea where I was going.  I had a little time to think during the drive... try to figure things out.  I had willfully chosen to keep my eyes shut. I will probably pay dearly for my self inflicted ignorance.

Whatever happens - I need to keep Camille safe. 

T H I N K ! 

Rod said he was a federal agent - yet tells me to kill people.

Why?

Was he really that far out on a limb?  That's kind of hard to believe...that he'd go deep without some kind of back up.  I don't get it.  Surely there's a G-man I could to talk to.  Then again, if I find someone, I'll probably end up in prison.  I don't know if I want to run the risk.

Is the risk better than dying?

He told me to kill Clayton.  The only guys I saw face to face around Clayton's house was Clayton, Rod and the Russian.  I'm going to have to talk someone at that place without getting myself killed.

One thing for certain, Rod's scenario was kill or be killed.  Maybe that's what he was planning on doing all along.  Maybe he was rogue, who knows.  It just doesn't figure.  I'll inch along and pray I won't have to take his advice.


Clayton.  Maybe I can get to Clayton. I could pretend that nothing happened tonight - go back to his place - make up a yarn about Rod's death.  Maybe I can bluff my way in - even if I have to shoot my way out.  I don't like the odds.  I can't make a plan without having a grasp on the big picture.  I'm flying blind right now.

If I do see Clayton, then I'm in a world of hurt if he knows that we cleaned house back on Hammitt Road.

I almost forgot.  The briefcase.

I pulled the car off the road.

I looked down the road to see if anyone was coming. 

Not a car in sight.

I left the headlights on and pulled Rod's briefcase from the floorboard in back.  I walked to the front of the car and squatted by a headlight in order to view it's contents.  I opened it.

Inside were three parcels wrapped in brown paper.  They were all the same approximate size and weight.  I opened one.

There was money.  I didn't have time to count it. It was a considerable amount. There were also legal documents - personal identification that I'll assume isn't legit.  It was everything a guy would need to infiltrate the United States.

So Clayton and his crew are supplying forged identity for illegals.  Illegals...from where?  Why?

I'd delivered a lot of these to the same houses since I started driving for Clayton.  This had to be a big operation. A lot of people coming into the country under detection.

I was kept outside because I knew nothing.  I was kept at a distance so if I was ever pulled over - I'd be ignorant to everything.

Like Pilate, I felt the need to wash my hands.

Rod said that I'd be suspect now that he was found out.  I don't know how big this ring is.  It's apparent that Rod was still working on it before calling on the cavalry.

If there is a cavalry.

I'd look at the papers closer if I lived through the night.  I knew a little but needed more answers.

Several times during the war, I was sent behind the lines to secure a prisoner. Someone who could be made to talk.

It looks like I am going to have to try my luck at it.

places: a safe place

I picked up Camille and checked out of our room.  She had too many questions that I simply couldn't answer.  Most of her questions I didn't want to answer.  I didn't want to scare her.  I didn't want to upset her.  I just told her that I'd explain things later and to please just trust me.

The place wasn't anything fancy.  I didn't unpack anything.  I just unloaded the car into the little room and left her there.  She wanted to know where I was going, what was wrong, and when would I return.  At the doorstep she stopped me.  She looked up into my eyes.  "Please don't leave me here long."  She put her arms around my me and hugged me again.

I smiled. "I'll come back...just wait here."

She stood in the doorway as I opened the car door.  She called my name once more.

"Where can I call you?"

"You can't call me.  I will call you.  I will come for you as soon as I can.  If I am not back by tomorrow afternoon, leave town.  Meet me where we first met."

"Camile, nobody should know where we are.  I don't want you to call anyone."

"I'm scared Johnny." 

She stood there a black silhouette with the light behind her.  Her blond hair seemed to make her presence angelic.  For a moment I didn't want to leave.  I wanted to just take her. Toss the luggage back in the car and leave the state.  I thought of Rod's warning.  I knew I was in deep.  His voice was in my head telling me that running was futile.  His ghost warned me from the backseat.  I had to leave her.  I had to find out what was happening.  It wouldn't be smart making a getaway in a car filled with a dead man's blood.  The morning light would eventually come. The blood soaked backseat was concealed only by the night.  I needed to get back to the city.

I looked up at her. I did my best to sound confident.

"Don't be."

places: requiem

when bad things happen

a man must move forward

no matter what's ahead of him

no matter what's at stake

he can't freeze up

he can't crumble when cornered

a man must move forward unlocked

a man can instantly lose his bearings

unless he's set his mind to the deadly task

there is a haze that surrounds him
in war

 there is a fear

one can experience

with every sense

there is a temptation

to choke or flee

amid terrible things

against terrible odds

in such instance can

a man really be ready

in that fog

be ready

 just be able to grab the moment by the throat

 and swallow fear

and thrust through

smother all chance of hope

die to both fear and life itself

and simply do the job at hand

because if there is any hope

he must sacrifice it now
on the bloody altar

die now

and simply do the job at hand

become just another ghost charging

upon the battle's field

what seemed so long ago

has come back like an old familar

are you ready?
are you ready?

hell no

but let's dance

places: the night it happened

I heard a muted noise.  I knew the sound of gunfire.

I rolled down my window.  I looked to the front door.  There was movement behind the drawn the yellow shade.  I got out of the car and stood at the sidewalk.  This was different, I didn't know what to do.  I waited with my finger on the trigger.  The door opened and someone fumbled out.

There was another shot fired.

Rod was on the deck and had quickly rolled over onto his back.  His gun pointed to the inside of the house.  He fired two more rounds.

I ran to him with my gun drawn.

Rod choked, "Help me - get - out of here."

I drug Rod to the steps as two men came from around both corners of the house.  One had a shot gun.  I let Rod fall and roll down the steps.  I instinctively put a bullet in the guy with the sawed-off.  Rod dropped the other guy.

I drug him to the car and shoved him into the back seat.  I tried to keep my eye on the house...any movement.

"There's nobody else...just get me out of here."

I'd seen fatal wounds before.  Rod was a dead man even if he was still barking orders.  I approached the body with the sawed-off next to him.  I rummaged through his pockets and transferred his shells into my pocket.  I walked inside the front door and saw two mean assuming the dead position.

I grabbed Rod's briefcase and exited.

"Stop the car... I need to talk."  Rod's voice had softened.  There was no urgency in his voice, I'm pretty sure he knew his ticket was punched.

I drove the car a short way down a logging road to a secluded spot.  Rod's breathing was labored.  I got out of the car and opened the rear door. His head rolled off the edge of the backseat. He gaze at the silhouetted trees and into the night's sky.

I got in his face. 

"What happened back there?"

"Shut-up and listen," Rod said,"I'm dying."  I shook my head.

"I am not who you think I am."

"I have no idea who you were supposed to be."

"Please, quiet and listen..."

I listened.

"I am with the government, they found me out."
 

I listened.

"No one could follow... I am alone.   If you want to live...you must kill them."

"Kill who?"

"Kill them all?"

"What do you mean?"
 

"Kill them all.  Everyone, every drop off - everyone at every place."
 

"What about Clayton?"

"Especially Clayton."

 His voice was weakening.

"Who do you think I am?"

"You're a dead man if you don't kill them all.  I know that they will just assume you are with me.  None of those guys will take chances.  You're nobody - they'll kill you as insurance..."

He kept talking, but his voice faded, whispering names I'd never heard.  I knew he wanted to tell me more but he simply couldn't.

I left his body in the woods. I needed to find another ride. Get Camille to a safe place.

 I had things to do.

places: men with guns

I carried the gun that I was given by Clayton.  It weighed in my pocket, but I gave it no mind.

Rod carried a piece in his shoulder holster, but he always wore a coat.  Out of sight, out of mind.

I went to the doorstep with Rod a few nights ago.  He asked me to help him carry a large parcel from the trunk to the door.  He knocked on the door and then looked back at me.  "Go back to the car and wait."

Halfway through his instructions, a man opened the door.  He was a big fellow with an ugly mug.  He's so ugly that I caught myself staring for a moment.

He stared back, "Is there something wrong?" he said.

I looked down. He was holding a Tommy.  I looked back over to Rod.  "Wait in the car.  I'll take it from here."  I went back to the car.

At that moment, the gun seemed to weigh more in my pocket as well as on my mind.

"Bad things will happen for those who stay."  I don't know why the thought crossed my mind.  I'm not doing anything but driving.  I guess I could see more if I chose to see.  I didn't want to.  I just wanted to do the easy job and take the money.  I wanted to cash it all in on a dream.  For now, this was the quickest avenue to arrive there.  The job was easy as pie.  But beneath it all - it was bad.  I knew that whatever was behind the door, if I kept going down this road, I'd get caught in it.

I was on the surface, with a strong feeling that I was driving on a road with narrow shoulders.  I just didn't want to think about it.  It had been obvious that Clayton and Rod had been keeping me from seeing too much.  I didn't want to see too much.   I knew that I was going to eventually veer off the road and get educated.

I'll save up enough doe for now, and distance myself from this place as soon as possible.

I'll leave.  I'll drop this gun like a hot potato.