The Old Black

A short story

It was already too late, I knew it.

Rushing on, not looking at anybody, head down, I thought about her, about her body, about her golden skin. Her perfect golden skin, untouched until now.

Why was I going there? I still don’t know. I only knew I had no choice: she had only me in the world. Unlucky creature.

The rain beat hard on my shoulders, on my head, trying to reach my warm skin. I thanked God I still had Raven, my black trench coat. Twenty-five years of service and still up to the job. I was proud of it. Then realized I hadn’t had enough money in the last twenty-five years to afford a new coat, and felt a bit less proud.

The black, shiny pavement, the street lights reflected in dark, wavering puddles, the smell of gasoline and the reek of soaked, forgotten humanity. It was all there, my world. Warehouse after pawnshop after dead rat, I took it all in. It gave me courage. I sped up, trying to remember the way.

Water Street, number 8, fourth door to the right. The broken windows stared down at me, thick drops hanging on the sharp glass. The sound of distant thunder flashed on them, carried on to my ears after a cold and wet fraction of a second.

The metal door was ajar. They didn’t care about people sneaking in, about people snooping around, about people hearing the screams. Nobody cared in that part of town, they chose the safest place. I liked it that way, die alone or triumph unbothered, my style.

A single yellow light illuminated the scene. A soft pad of greasy dust muffled my steps. My nostrils inhaled the smell of stagnant water and fatigued metal, which hung thick in the still air. A single light bulb reached down from the depth of darkness above, its flickering dead light leaking slowly on the whole scene. A grotesquely vast room opened up in front of me, with no discernible walls to contain it. It looked empty, except for a new, shiny steel table. The girl was lying on it, motionless.

A white linen cloth covered her, ankles to shoulders. She was breathing, noiselessly, her small chest expanding and deflating rhythmically. I took a few steps towards her.

Jenny. I had to get her out of there, as soon as possible. If my brother found out they took the child I was done for. I was about to pick her up and leave, take her back to her parents, back to the world where I knew she was safe.

“I wouldn’t do it if I were you.”

His voice reached me from the darkness, soft and glacial. I knew that voice; I didn’t like that voice. I ignored it.

I put my hands around her shoulders. They were so cold. I hesitated for a second. She looked so fragile, the empty shell of a cicada, a puff of wind could dissolve it.

“Always so tenacious, so righteous. But you are too late, as always.”

I let the child go and looked up. He slowly glided out of the shadows, welcoming me with his hands. A smile hung on his face. He moved underneath the light, he liked to be watched, unkempt silver-dyed hair and matching business suit, just a shade darker.

We were now standing face to face, with Jenny’s body lying between us. A strong, artificial smell of peppermint lingered around him. He did not look a day older than the last time I saw him.

“Tommy Boy.”

“Very well, you still remember my name. Of course you do, how could you forget. After all we have already met, Mr. Black.”

His green eyes skimmed my body until they reached my knees. The old wound gave a sharp pang, as if it knew its maker was standing a step away.

“Stay out of this. I’m taking the child with me.”

“Oh, I really don’t think so. That would be a pity, a terrible pity.”

“I’m not wasting my time with you, Tommy Boy.”

I reached for the gun holstered inside my jacket and pointed it towards him, the metal reassuringly heavy. His nose was inches away from the muzzle.

“See, Tommy Boy, I came with my dancing shoes. So, do you wanna dance or do you wanna fuck off?”

He leaned forward, half a movement, pushed out his tongue and softly, without rush, licked the tip of the gun.

“What do you think, Mr. Black?”

I jerked the gun backwards while my index finger jumped to the trigger. Jenny was right there, I didn’t care. I wanted to eliminate the freak, splatter him out of existence.

I was too slow, as usual.

A flash and a sharp crack and the gun was torn away from my hand. My warm blood sprayed bright on the white linen. Another crack, hungry and single-minded. It lifted me and threw me backwards. I slammed hard on the floor after half a spin and the world blurred away, red, black, and buzzing loudly.

Already defeated? No. Not now, die another day.

I propped myself up on an elbow, forced my head to tune out the buzz in my ears and give me the strength to open my eyes. I looked up. She was there, towering over me, smoking gun in her right hand, left one on her hip, red hair, red dress and a sharp red smile stamped on her face.

Cosey. Of course.

“Good to see you, Ed. Sorry for the harsh welcome. I couldn’t let you kill my Tom. You will understand.”

“Always a fucking pleasure, honey.”

I tried to push myself up, but my arm wouldn’t work. I looked over and saw a red, gaping hole in my right shoulder. A little further away lay one of my fingers, I didn’t check which one. They all look the same when they are not attached to a hand.

I looked back towards her. The satisfaction of having me confused and deflated, lying on the floor trying to count my missing limbs, gave her pleasure.

“Sorry for that too, I guess you won’t be shooting anybody for a while.”

Resigned, I stayed on the floor, craning my head sideways to get a view of the whole group. Cosey, Tommy Boy and Jenny. I still had to save her. I just needed to buy time. My old 29th Patrol would come and look for me, they would find me. I just needed to stay alive long enough.

“Really, Cosey? Buddying up with this scum? I thought you had taste, especially after me.”

“You know I still love you, Ed. Always have, always will. But see, Tom here knows things you will never know. He has a certain way, it’s hard to resist.”

“What does the child have to do with this?”

“Little Jen? Is this why you came? I just thought you wanted to even the score with my Tom. Well, well, well, old Ed seems to have a heart after all. Age made you grow weak?”

“Leave the child, Cosey.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Leave the child. You’re better than him, you don’t need her.”

“Need her? Ed, age is finally catching up with you. Need her? We don’t need her Ed, she needs us.”

“Cut the crap. Where is this coming from? Did he brainwash you? Hey, Tommy Boy! The girls were not good enough for you? You needed to…”

“Ed. Look at her. Does she look like we hurt her? Does she look like we could use her in any way? She’s sick, Ed, she’s very sick.”

“Sick? What the hell are you talking about?”

“We are helping her. Without Tom here, she would probably be dead by now. We saved her, Ed.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re confused, Ed. We have been keeping an eye on her for some time. She was growing worse and worse. You didn’t notice? I guess not. Too busy hunting down the bad guys you were. Right, Ed? You never change. But she did. Day by day, always worse. She came here herself, you know?”

“Bullshit. He told you that? You honestly believe him? He’s a psycho, Cosey. Tell her, Tommy Boy. Tell her what happened to the other kids. Tell her what you did to them. Tell her what a twisted freak you are! TELL HER!”

She took half a step backwards. I must have sounded deranged; I never managed to scare her before. The pain in my shoulder was becoming unbearable. I had just enough strength to keep my head up, keep them in sight. Buy time, be strong. The pool of blood around my shoulder was growing larger and colder. Buy time.

Tommy Boy was still standing behind the sleeping girl, head cocked to one side, half smiling.

“I can help you refresh your memory if you want. Let me see… Samantha, twelve, found in a hotel room, two streets from here, they had to run a DNA test to recognize her. Erika, thirteen, they couldn’t find any DNA, she was recognized by her pendant after they cleaned it from the ashes. Roberta, eleven, you had some fun with that one, eh, Tommy Boy? I think they are still looking for her left foot. Want me to go on?”

Cosey was looking rapidly from me to Tommy Boy now. She had heard of the rumors, I knew that. But, what are rumors in a town like this? It’s the juicy details that count, corroborated facts, names, and figures. I would have given her a dung pile of names and figures to wallow in, if I had the time. But maybe that was already enough. I could see her thinking, evaluating the situation. Ed, her old lover, now just old, or Tommy Boy, young, affluent, and out of his fucking mind? Though decision.

I looked at her, deep into her brown eyes. I wanted her to trust me again; I wanted her to stop Tommy Boy. Most of all, I wanted her to make my pain go away, to make me forget being there, to leave and find each other in a little somewhere far away. The same somewhere I screwed up and lost, two and a half lifes ago. I will always love those eyes.

Tommy Boy started to laugh. Quietly at first, as if he didn’t want to be heard. Then louder, edging out of control. He laughed maniacally, the laugh was taking over him, he had to steady himself on the table, Jenny’s table. It didn’t stop, it bordered on awkwardness. The sound cut deep into my eardrums, full and redoubled, echoing on invisible walls.

He doubled over, still holding on, shaking. When he managed to stand up straight again, he was holding a gun. He never said a word, just laughed and laughed and laughed, an uncontrollable paroxysm. He pointed his gun towards Cosey and pulled the trigger.

I didn’t hear the shot; I didn’t see it reach her body. The world was laughter, it choked my senses to numbness.

She was lying next to me, her gun had skidded uselessly in a corner. She loved than cannon. Her eyes were still fixed on mine. They were still open when she drew her last breath. I will always love those eyes.

I tried to get up, get my broken body to work, but I was too weak. Tommy Boy gently lifted the child and turned around. He was going to finish his business and once again nobody to stop him.

I couldn’t help look at Cosey. The brutality of her murder impelled me to get up, it urged my strength to come back and it demanded me to rejoice in the unstoppable force of vengeance. Nothing, I just gazed. All was beyond hope. I simply kept plunging deeper and deeper into her dying image. She was still beautiful, all of her: the soft skin, the full mouth, hair that demanded veneration, a body that demanded to be touched. I could even peek at the garter she always wore. The garter! Stupid old man, how long will it take you.

I crawled on my shoulder, shutting my mind against the pain, trying to reach Cosey. Tommy Boy was almost out of the room, a question of moments. I reached for her legs with my left hand and pulled out the small .22 from her garter.

“Tommy Boy!”

It was easy. He just had time to turn around. He had stopped laughing by then, but a wide smile still lingered on his face. It never left it. He fell slowly, like a dead leaf. He crumbled with the child still in his arms. A single, tiny red hole stained his white forehead.