Dirt: A Tale of Revenge - Part 1/4

Taylor.

Customers exit the diner. I nod to Charlie and we split. I make my way through the front entrance and head for his booth. A waitress looks up from the counting of her tips and flashes me a fake smile. I pass before she has the chance to ask me where I'd like to sit.

He’s still sitting there, trying with great effort to cut away at the burnt steak with the knife in his left hand. A half empty bottle demands the full attention of his right. His eyes droop and he mutters a slew of curses under his breath as he fights the stubborn meal. A wrap of bandages drapes across the side of his neck. I note the bulge of a gun beneath his coat. Charlie enters from the back exit and takes his place behind the target. A pair of black shades covers his eyes. I slide into the booth.

“Look buddy, the seat ain’t taken but it ain’t exactly free.”
I ignore the quip. “Hello Taylor.”

There’s the look I’ve been waiting for. I can see him go cold. Even the buzz can’t keep the blood from leaving his cheeks. Charlie wraps his arm around Taylor’s neck and jerks him to the side, pulling the weapon from his coat and vanishing it behind his back. I can hear the waitress calling for us to knock it off, like it’s a little joke.

Veins rise as he tightens his grip around the steak knife and brings it up towards Charlie. I catch his hand and slam it back down, pulling the sauce-drenched fork from his plate and jamming it into the space between his knuckles. Bone shifts along metal. The pain’s enough to make him drop the knife. I slide it away as Charlie relinquishes his grip and stands ready with both hands on Taylor’s shoulders. His right hand digs into Taylor’s bandaged wound.

Taylor lets out a whimper and buries his hand between his legs, his eyes shut tight as though trying to will the hurt away.

“Thomas, look you know it wasn’t my idea"”
I cut him off. “Have you ever tasted dirt, Taylor? It’s not pleasant.”
“You don’t need to do this, I was just following the chain-”
“Ever been buried alive?” I continue, lost in the moment, “Well I have, and it’s not like drowning, not like you’re weightless or floating in a dream. It’s hard and rough, like nails in your throat. It’s fear.”

My eyes turn down towards the knife in my hand. A smile cuts a swath across my lips. This moment, it feels good.

“I’m not going to ask for their locations, though I’m sure you’d be willing to cooperate in exchange for me sparing your life. I’ll find them. It won’t be quick like it was with Lily, they’ll know they’ve cut.”
“Please...”

I whip him across the face with the knife. He lets out a piercing shriek and clutches at his cheek where the side of his mouth has just been extended. Blood pours out through closed fingers. The waitress behind me screams and rushes back into the kitchen. I can hear her shouting through the wall. More voices come. Taylor’s cries drown them out.

“Oh my God! You sick bastard! You-”

His words cut short as Charlie locks his fingers around the top of his skull, nails digging into the sensitive skin beneath his eyebrows. He pinches Taylor’s nose together, cutting off the air. Taylor’s arms flail against Charlie’s face but he keeps his hold. I force open Taylor’s jaw and reach into my pocket to withdraw the package, shoving it down his throat and slapping my hand against his ruined mouth. Spit and blood coats my fingers. I can feel his tongue dance across my palm as he tries to bite my skin. The gash stretches wide. Torn muscles twitch. Finally he swallows.

The waitress returns with several chefs, one armed. They call for us to let the man go. Charlie releases his hold and draws Taylor’s pistol before they have a chance to react. He puts a round in the man’s shoulder. The staff cowers around the fallen man. The waitress looks up at Charlie. Her tears send a stream of black mascara down her cheeks.

“We’ve called the cops!”
“That’s fine,” Charlie replies, but keeps his weapon steady.

I keep my knife on Taylor. He pulls a handful of napkins from the dispenser and presses them against his would, trying to stem the flow, managing a gurgle of words despite the blood that fills his mouth.

“What the hell did you give me?”
“A small explosive device.”
“What?”
I nod. “Amazing, isn’t it? I’ve been watching you all night, Taylor. You’ve been drinking like you always do. That little vice has ensured your demise. The device will activate soon and when it does it will fill your stomach with gasoline. Then it will spark.”

I pause a moment to let the words soak in. Taylor’s eyes begin to tear. “I believe the resulting pain will be quite intense. Your stomach will burn apart, emptying its acids into your organ systems. The flames will spread, aided by the gas and booze, until you die. You’re going to burn from the inside out."

I check my watch. “You have less than a minute; I suggest you pray for forgiveness. I wouldn’t try throwing up the package, it’ll only get stuck.”
“Please! Please, don’t!” Taylor’s weeps as he scrambles across the table and latches onto my arms.
“Get off me.”
“You’ve got to do something!”
“I said get off!” I force him back into his seat.

I stand and pass the table, leaving Taylor huddled away from me. The kitchen staff drag the wounded man away and cover their faces. I pay them no heed. Sirens roar in the distance as I make my way to the front entrance.

As the doors close my watch alarm begins to beep. The screams of terrified staff rise within. I dig a smoke out of my pocket and pull out my lighter. Storm’s coming, clouds are moving in. I strike the lighter as Charlie appears behind me. He nods his head in the direction of the shrieks.

“Was she worth it?” he asks, removing the glasses that hide his burned out eye.
I smile. “She was.”

---

Betrayal.

Someone’s in my house.

Lily lies by my side. I lay a hand on her shoulder and shake her gently. The lashes of her lids flutter as she wakes but does not speak. I raise a finger to my lips and nod in the direction of the bedroom door. There come whispers, voices, reaching out from the darkness of the small apartment. I slide my pistol out from under the bed and tighten the silencer, kissing her cheek as I stand. She lays a hand upon my arm and nods. Her eyes shine. I cross the bedroom and peek through the crack in the doorway, the weapon held close at my side.

Two men stand in my kitchen cloaked in black and lost in conversation. They’re at the fridge speaking loud enough for me to hear. No lights are on but the blinds open wide. Moonlight shines through.

“You see True Grit?”
“True Grit, the John Wayne movie?”
“Nah, the remake those Coen guys did.”
“They remade The Duke?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know?”

Something’s up, these guys aren’t pros. From the light of the moon I can make out the finish on the two sawed offs in their hands. Fancy, primo stuff. These guys certainly have the green, and they’re not worried about being quiet when they kill me.

The first sets his weapon aside and pulls on the fridge handle. I close the door as the refrigerator light shines across the room. I stay still, waiting for gunfire that never comes. I breathe out slowly and watch as Lily peaks out from the other side of the bed. She holds a small purse pistol in her shaking hands. I shake my head and glance out again. The men are still there. I raise the pistol shoulder-height and let the barrel pass through the crack.

“What’s the deal with all these remakes?” the first asks, raising a carton of milk he’s taken from the fridge to his lips.
“What do you mean? They’re not all bad.”
“Can you name even three that were better than the originals, right off the top of your head?”
“Sure I can. There’s The Departed, The Thing, and uh…hold on…” the second replies.

The first one smiles and brings the milk back up. I fire.

“That’s why-” he begins, his words cut short.

Blood dribbles from the corners of his mouth as he lets out a soft gurgle. Milk spews out of the carton where the bullet pierced it. The container plummets to the ground and leaks white onto the hardwood floor. The hit man grasps feebly at the hole in his neck. Blood fountains down his shirt. He sinks to his knees, stretching out his hands and pulling at his partner’s coat.

“What the fu-”

I don't give him a chance to finish. The right side of his head hits the wall before he even knows what’s happened. I swing the door open and advance towards the kitchen, scanning the room as I pass. The warmed steel of the gun tickles my palm as I shift my free hand beneath the clip slot.

The one I shot in the throat is still alive. Kneeling in blood, he looks up at me with eyes racked with fear. Skin the color of paste sticks to a body that shakes from shock. He speaks in a ragged, choked voice, each word he squeezes out spilling a trickle of blood down his pale throat.

“P-please, I-I-I wa-was just p-paid t-t-to stand here!”
“What?”
“Please d-don’t kill me!”
“Shit...”

I never have a chance to turn, he has me. Brick has me. A towering mass of solid muscle, bald and angry, he has no plans of letting me go. My gun slips from my fingers and I cease my struggles.

“Well, what a mess we have,” Frank whispers as he steps out from the shadows of the back room. A sheet of white plastic drapes over his form covering the suit beneath it. He nods to his partner. “Taylor, get the girl.”
“Lily they’re coming!” I shout, earning a punch to the gut from Frank. I gasp in a thin stream of air that burns my lungs.

Taylor enters the bedroom. Silence. A gunshot sounds. Taylor screams, then Lily. The door bursts open and Taylor shoves Lily forward onto the carpet. He clutches at his shoulder. A blossom of blood blooms beneath his hold. Taylor forces Lily up on her knees and slaps her across the face. Her cheek swells from the blow.

“That’s enough, Taylor,” Frank says.
“Bitch shot me.”
“And you should feel as pathetic as you look, now back away.”

I can’t move. Brick hasn’t given an inch. Frank nods towards Lily.

“It’s not my fault you fell in love with her, you knew what happens to those who fail a job and yet you still couldn’t go through with it! You should’ve left, Tom, taken the bitch with you. Arrogance always wins, right?”

He pulls a set of purple examination gloves over his hands.

“What happened to the leather?” I ask.
“Cheaper this way.”
“Always skimped where it counted,” I remark, glancing around the room, “Where’s Charlie?”

Frank stares into the reflection he casts against the balcony glass door and fiddles with his slick hair. He straightens his tie and pats down the wrinkles in his suit through the plastic.

“He didn’t feel like cooperating, some sort of loyalty thing the two of you've got going on. Had to rough him up a bit,” he replies, too focused on his own reflection to meet my gaze, “Don’t worry, he’ll be with you soon enough, once my boys finish up.”

Sasha enters through the front door. Taylor takes his place behind Frank, always at his beck and call, but Sasha remains behind. She won’t face me. Lily breathes in harsh breaths. Her hair spills over her beaten face. She meets my gaze. I want to hold her. I want to grab her hand and kiss her again, but I can’t move.

“It’s okay, Lily,” I say, “It’s okay. I’ll get us out of here.”

Frank holds out his palm. Taylor removes a silencer from his pocket and lays it in his hands, receiving a curt nod of approval.

“Sweet sentiment,” he says, making sure the silencer is fully attached.

Lily knows better than to rise. She doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t show the fear as Frank takes his place behind her. Doesn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry. Her eyes are closed. I place my feet against the floor and kick back, doing nothing more than making Brick restructure his stance. I bite at his skin, hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t feel it. I’m screaming now as Frank raises his gun and places the barrel against Lily’s head.

“Don’t you do it, Frank! Don’t you fucking dare!”

Lily swallows hard. She’s crying too, silently. I never understood how she did that. Frank raises his hand up behind the gun to protect himself from back spray and cocks the hammer as slowly as he can, drawing out the act. Lily looks to me, her eyes still shut.

“Tom…”

The bullet exits through her forehead. A splash of blood hits the floor. Lily jerks once before dropping. The silence comes, the silence broken by my screams.

“Lily! No! No, no, no! I’m gonna kill you, I swear to God I’m gonna kill all of you! I swear-”
Frank wipes a speck of blood from the sheets that cover his chest. “Brick, if you would please.”

There’s a crack as Brick dislocates both my shoulders. I’m out.