Dirt: A Tale of Revenge - Part 3/4

Brick.

He’s watching Sleepless in Seattle. That’s the one thing I’ll always remember about Brick, he loves Meg Ryan movies. He’s a massive man of wrath and violence, yet he loves Meg Ryan. Didn’t like to admit it, but we all knew.

Brick’s the lone man of our group. I have Charlie, Sasha had Samuel, even Frank had Taylor, but Brick works alone. He doesn’t need backup. He sits in his living room before a massive flat screen in an equally massive easy chair. At his side lays a bucket of popcorn and a two liter bottle of Sprite.

I watch from outside the window. Rain’s starting to pick up. I’ll have to move fast. I slide back the handle bar of the assault shotgun. Bullets line its sides. If the silent way fails, there’s always back-up. My heart beats fast in my ears. I switch off the safety and let the shotgun hang at my side by the straps across my back.

The chair faces away from me with only the top of Brick’s head visible, fixed completely on the screen. He hasn’t heard me. I ready the laser sight of the silenced pistol on the back of the chair and fire six times, four in the back, two in the head. Shattered glass peppers my face. The body falls forward onto the Oriental rug at the center of the room. I lower my weapon.

A large punching dummy lies before the TV. Beans pour out from the top of its head where my bullet struck.

“Son of a bitch.”

He’s behind me, his shadow looming up. Before I can turn he grabs me by the arm, rips the pistol from my hand, and hurls me across the lawn. I land hard in the half-wet dirt. The wind in my lungs rushes out on impact past clenched teeth. I push myself up from the ground. He’s charging. I try and pull shotgun up to fire but it’s too late.

Brick looms up, eyes darkened and bald head shining with sweat and rain. Spittle drips from his lips as he lets out an inhuman scream. His arms lock me in place. I feel my chest constrict as he tightens his grip. I twist to the side, freeing one arm. I pummel his face over and over but he only laughs and squeezes harder. I can’t breathe. I reach into my pockets and pull out the steak knife Taylor encountered earlier this night. Brick lets out a manic chuckle as he sees the pitiful weapon I hold.

I drive the blade deep into his eye.

He drops me with a shriek, stumbling forward and sinking to his knees. Blood pools against his socket as he grips the handle. Tendons tear and veins shred as he rips the blade out, left eye still attached. I rise slowly to my knees, clutching my bruised ribs and grunting with effort as I lift the shotgun up from my side.

Brick lets the blade drop. Blood spills down from the impacted socket across his face, covering him in red like war paint. He begins to laugh. A hideous, unstopping laugh. I point the shotgun at center of his forehead. His laughs stop.

“Do it,” he growls.

I take off the top of his head.

I pass Brick’s body and retrieve the pistol beside the window. My phone begins to vibrate within my pocket. I answer on the third ring. Charlie’s voice comes through the line.

“I found Frank.”

---

Savior.

I can only see darkness. Rocks fill my throat as I gasp for breath. I swallow what I can before the air stops. Shudders rack my body, each more violent then the next. I can hear the car engine roar above me. It’s leaving. It’s gone. I’m alone in the end. Nothing here but darkness and dirt. I close my eyes.

Then I feel them. A pair of strong hands clasp around my own. I feel myself being pulled from the pit. I lay coughing, spitting out dust, trying to catch my breath. Chunks of rock come up with every heave. I stick my finger down my throat and vomit, dispelling what I can. I look to my side and see Charlie kneeling.

“Hey Tom.”
“Ch…Charlie? That you?”
“Who else would come to your rescue?”
“How’d you find me?” I ask, my head swimming, unsure as to whether or not what I’m seeing isn’t a hallucination.
“Where else do they take traitors?”
“I’m not a traitor.”
“To them you are.”

The laugh that rises up comes to an abrupt end when I notice the patch that loops its way across Charlie’s eye. A splotch of torched skin forms around the socket.

“Jesus Christ, Charlie.”
“What, this?” Charlie asks, twirling a finger around the ruined area, “It’s nothing. Take a lot more for me to turn, but they didn’t get the chance.”
“How’d you escape?”
Charlie offers me a sly smirk. “Taylor’s never been the best at tying knots.”
“But Frank’s always best when it comes to locking doors.”
“Had a little help from Sasha. Tricky girl.”

Charlie pulls me up. I steady myself on shaky legs and start for home.

“You know she helped them, right?” I ask.
“I know,” Charlie replies.
“You know I can’t spare her?”
“I know.”
“You don't have to be there for it. I’m going to see Lily.”

***

I open the door to the apartment. Charlie and I enter, not bothering to search the area. They think I’m dead, by now they’re looking for him.

“There’s a pair of sunglasses on the kitchen table,” I say, “Put them on, you look like a pirate.”

Charlie retrieves the shades. Together we stand at the edge of the living room. Lily splays across the floor. A pool of dried blood spreads around her. Her hair covers her face.

“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Charlie says.
“It's not your fault.”
“That doesn’t change a thing.”
I understand. “I want to say something, to her.”
“Take your time.” Charlie takes his place as guard in the doorway. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

I kneel before Lily. I feel I should move her, but I can’t. I don’t want to see her eyes. I touch her cheek and whisper my peace. “I’m sorry Lily. It’s my fault. I should’ve protected you.”

A tear makes its way down. I wipe it away, too ashamed to let more fall.

“I should’ve taken you away, but I was stupid. I was so stupid,” I whisper, rising once more, “I’m going to do something now. I don’t think it’s what you’d want, but it’s something I know I should do.”

I walk to the kitchen table where Lily left her purse and dig through the contents until I find her cell phone. I flip the top up and scroll through her contacts until I find the one I’m looking for. I punch the ‘talk’ button and wait for the ring. I don’t want to leave a message. Her voice comes through.

“Hello?”

It takes me a moment to find the words.

“Hello? Lily, is that you?”
“Mrs. Collins?”
“Thomas?”
“Something’s happened to Lily. You need to come to my apartment. 405 W. Westchester.”
“Wh…what?”
“Someone hurt her. You need to come.”
“What happened, Thomas?”
“I…I won’t be here when you arrive.”
“What the hell happened, Thomas? What happened to Lily?”
“I’m going after them. I’m going now, I have to go.”
“No! No, Thomas, you tell me what happened to her!”
“405 W. Westchester. I’m sorry. I have to go. They’ll move on if I wait too long.”
“Thomas-”
“I’m sorry.”