The Viper Who Waited
By James Taylor
- 336 reads
Weeds grew in cracks on the concrete path outside. External wooden stairs with unrelenting creaks led to the second floor, a row of plain doors facing the west. Curtains were dark brown, heavy, cheap, but kept out the sunlight well enough. An air conditioner resided under the curtains, but you were better off not even trying based on one look. Everything was dull in color, the underside of the bedsheet had dark stains. Pillows were stiff, yet soft enough. They were of an ugly color, something between orange and brown. The wall was a light gold color, smooth, without a single crack. Carpet smelled like feet, rough sex and mold. Everything looked perfectly in order.
He pulled the curtains back, sliver of the outside disappearing. There hung a mirror by the closet and fridge. He soon stood in front of it, buttoning a crisp white shirt, pinning on a black tie. He turned, looking around the room. Small, cramped, with no more than one uncomfortable bed. The smell was the worst part of this room. There must be dogshit in the walls.
The reflection gave him a good idea of how thin his nose was, how bright his amber-colored eyes were, the rich dark color his thick hair had. It’s been months, but oh, he could wait. He could outmatch a viper in waiting.
A pile of newspaper sat old, faded on the scratchy couch by the air conditioner. He headed over to the fridge. The young guy was supposed to restock it every two days. Taking out a bottle, he stared at its label, but did not drink. He did not even open it.
It was left on the small round table while he headed back to the window. Skimming the curtain aside once more, he squinted out onto the highway, the dry, baking sun above it.
A knock on the door. A minute passed, just a single knock. He let the hunched Fred Greer inside. Fred wore a dusty raincoat, wrapped tight around him. A short man with a quick way of talking and getting things over with, Fred glided over to the tiny round table, sitting down, taking off his raincoat. His face was greasy, boxed and betrayed nothing he hadn’t said. There were extensive wrinkles around his swampy green eyes.
Vitale walked over to him, standing beside the small table. He always made sure to be above people. “What news, my dear friend?”
“It’s done! Gamma God has been taken out!” the man had never spoken above a whisper before that.
“By whom?”
“The law.”
“Good,” Vitale straightened his shirt, “it looks like I can return to my city now. But I suspect it thinks I’m a coward. Let’s make them regret this assumption with an…we still have access to military weapons? The government?”
“All is well, if not better.” Back to a chancy whisper. “Only one paltry mishap.”
“I would like to hear it, Fred.”
“You know how you still retain the government?”
“As I’ve just heard.”
“We learned we have Fireforce in one of our facilities.” Fred scratched around his eye, taking off his floppy hat. His raincoat was draped against his chair.
“Why, use him! You have my permission.”
“The thought has occurred to us, Commander. We asked of his cooperation, but it turns out his aspiration to work under a mob boss is a shameful lie. He told us he doesn’t intend to work under anyone, be neutered. It became very clear he would be difficult to control.”
Vitale pointed at the bottle on the table. “Driving here must have made you tired. It’s yours.”
“I don’t drink wine, Commander.”
“Oh, is that so.” Vitale stood stiffly above the messenger. “Don’t release the man then. Let him feel powerlessness.”
“He hinted he would one day escape himself.”
“Would he?”
Fred put his hat on the table. He stroked the beard on his chin. “There is unbelievable technology these days. Cord-19 left a blueprint on a…power-soaking device that is worn around the prisoner’s wrists and ankles. I have seen it and I believe Fireforce will live as powerless as any man for the rest of his days.”
“Men are powerless, you say.”
“Normal men who do not have a supernatural gift. Our government has taken Charles Brewster’s gift away.”
“Thank you for the news, my dear friend. It’s not in the papers yet?”
“No.” Fred got up from his chair, walked to the fridge and got a bottle of water. He squeezed the cap off with some difficulty before holding it to his lips. “You would’ve eventually learned the fact yourself, but I wanted you aware of it as soon as possible.”
“Let’s go. I’ve about had enough of hard beds and inadequate air-conditioning. A car for me parked outside?”
“Yes.”
Vitale patted the small man’s back. “I’m making it back to town myself.”
“You’re a very patient man.” Fred Greer said when they were about at the door. Vitale slid the chain off on the track, door opening with a nudge.
“If a viper does not wait for the right time to strike, it will end up dead.”
Fred asked him why he was not taking his things. There were still lots of personal items besides the briefcase he’d taken.
“I’m sick at the sight of them. I’ve spent long months with every single one.” He stepped out into the sunlight, turning to head for the attached manager’s office.
Fred slinked next to him, raincoat on, hat in his hand. “Oh, I’ve forgotten two ghastly news.”
“What? I was led to believe all was well or better.” Vitale jingled his motel keys, stopping just outside the office. A pretty young blonde flashed him a smile, pulling a suitcase with a skinny arm. She went inside the office while Vitale and Fred talked outside, sun bright on them.
“Your friend…um…er…hmm…Lawson was killed during an attempt to ambush Gamma God.”
“What?”
“Most tragic. He was beloved by all in the business. And,” a cough, “…oh, did I say two ghastly news? Only one, heh heh. The car bomb planted weeks ago claimed the life of Floyd Richardson’s favorite Crank. One he’d even thought about marrying. It killed a bodyguard by the name of Antonio, severely mutilated a made man in the same vehicle.”
“Vengeance for my friend’s killing.” They went inside the manager’s office.
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Welcome to ABC Tales
Hello! Welcome to the site.
Interesting beginning, and I particularly liked the description of a face that 'betrayed nothing it hadn't said'. I'm assuming that this is the first part of a longer piece? If so, you might want to number the parts so that people will be able to find them easily.
Looking forward to reading more of your work.
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