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| the longest night... | Started by: dynamite on Oct 21, '07 00:22 |
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Well my name is Dynamite. That's right, it is my legal name. My parents were a bit crazy, I think it was drugs. But I'm glad to have some company here at this bar. I've been drinking alone for a bit and it helps to talk, ya know? I've got a real interesting story for you. You see it is about why I'm here. At this shitty bar, in the middle of nowhere. Drinking with you, who I don't even know. It is the longest night I ever had and let's just say it changed everything. See......... About 3:00am. The dead hour. I'm sound asleep in my very comfortable bed. Images of beautiful women and crazy parties were dancing through my head. Suddenly a crash from the other room shocked me awake so fast I fell out of bed. While falling I smashed my head into the corner of my bed-side table. I saw red spots in my vision and then slowly, a grey blanket swept over me. Nothing but total blackness... My vision slowly returned... First it seemed I could only see red and black. From my vantage on the floor of my room I could see into our living room. It was utter chaos. The TV had been thrown across the room. There was blood on the walls and the floor. Almost out of view my mother's foot lay, motionless. A pool of crimson slowly oozed from beneath it. I shuddered in horror but before I could scream two men walked into the room. They wore dark hats and long dark coats. Their eyes were black like death. The bigger one carried what I recognied, even at 17 years of age, as a sawed off shotgun. Instinct told me if they noticed me I would be worm food. Real quick. Then I heard screaming from down the hall, towards my parent's bedroom. Next came banging, and more screaming. The two men in the living room were looking down the hallway, smiling darkly. "What does he think? He's gonna get away?" The unarmed one said, then let loose a hyena laugh that will haunt me forever. However ghastly all of this was, I was one to recognize opportunity when I saw it. I used all the commotion and distraction to move further under my bed where I couldn't be seen, but I could still see the living room. I didn't want one of those motherfuckers sneaking up on me. They dragged my father into the living room by his hair. The screaming was inhuman. His face was almost unrecognizable. It looked like they had already broken all of his fingers and his hands. I couldn't believe I had been out for the entire thing. "Where's the shit?", screamed the the man who had dragged him into the room. "I don't know what you're talking about," my father replied, his voice shaking. "We know you stole it from Franco and Sanchez down at the pier! We found fucking proof. Now quit lieing and tell me where the fucking shit is." "I really have no idea what you're talking about! Please, if you just told me what you're looking for maybe I could help you!" "Hey, I think this guy needs a little persuasion." the third man said, trailing off sinisterly. The unarmed man pulled a small metal rod out of his pocket and smiled. His arm moved so fast it was barely visible to me. My father's head whipped back and blood and teeth sprayed all the way to the ceiling. Next came a soft gurgling sound and blood poured down soaking his shirt and pants. "Now are you sure you don't know what I'm talking about you sorry sack of shit?" the third main said. It was obvious by this point that this guy was in charge of this whole thing. His shock of blonde hair contrastd againsted his dark hat and coat. His eyes shone with a deep cruelty. "Oh my god. No. I know nothing. Please lord. Just kill me. I love you Jesus, mother...", these are what I believe to be my father's dying words. He was hard to understand with no teeth. "This dude don't know nothin'. Lets just waste'im and get outta here before the cops show, boss." said the man with the shotgun. It was the first time he had spoken. His voice was quiet and calm. Like a walk in the park. Like whiskey in the local bar. "Yeah. Smoke'im." said the leader. The sound was deafening as both barrels of the sawed off went off no more than 8 inches from my father's decimated face. I put my head down at this point. I couldn't take anymore, you understand. I am man, but a man can only take so much! I heard their foot-steps leave. They didn't bother shutting the door. They never searched. I don't know what they were looking for. My father had occasionally been secretive, but this was wholly unexpected. I laid there, unmoving. Not making a noise. It must have been hours, but it seemed like days. Like centuries. Finally I knew I had to leave. I crawled out from under the bed and ran from the apartment, unable to bear the site of the bodies and the mess. I ran and ran. I found myself in the Bourbon district. Well, at this point a drink sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world so I headed towards the nearest pub. I spent all of my money on booze, got stinking drunk and blacked out at least three, maybe four times. Who knows what happened. You know what I'm talking about? At some dive joint near the river, I'm sitting and drinking tequila from the bottle. All of a sudden my friend Charlie is sitting there and he's shaking me awake. Who knew I'd been sleeping? Not me... "They're after you man! You gotta leave town!" he yells at me... exploding my headache to epic proportions. "Who? Who's after ME?!", I said. A bit beligerant from being woken from my slumber. "The guys who killed you folks. That's who! And they are powerful, man! You've just got to leave town or you're gonna die!" Well this caused me to sober up quite a bit. Not totally, but enough to get off my ass. Now I had a lot of problems. I owed this bartender about $55 for drinks and my wallet was empty. I also had to get money to get out of town, and I had to get that money fast. I left Charlie with "It was nice knowing you. Maybe I'll see you again one day. But I have to go." and ran from the bar... I added "The guy with me will pay for it!!" very loudly as I exited the door. Charlie's a nice guy, and forgetfull too. The quickest way to make money on the mean streets of New Orleans was by breaking the law. As I was walking away from the bar I saw an old lady holding a very expensive looking purse. Jacking that old lady's purse was one of the easiest things ever. she just screamed and ran away as soon as I said "Gimme!..." That is what I've been doing since. I think I'll have enough to escape to another city soon. But I know I need to make friends and possible find some people who might have my back as long as I have theirs. I'm all alone on the streets and it is dangerous. The obituary pages tend to be quite long these days. All I have is this cross my father gave me when I was younger. He said it was very special and it would help me if I Was ever in serious trouble. |
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Elana, in the seedy bar to find one of her family's thugs for a special job, overhears ther conversation between Dynamite and Charlie. She listens and thinks about his parents, she had known his father and heard of his death. She follows dynamite for a while, watching as he steals purses and checks flight schedules. Finally she circles around the block and as he approaches the alley where she stands hidden in the shadows, she reaches out to grab him and pull him to her, her gun at his head Don't even think about fighting me, my gun is cocked and ready - do you understand? dynamite looks up into her half hidden face and nods slightly Good, now I know the man you speak of and claim was your father and his family. I want proof of this before I say any more. dynamite continues to stare at her, apparently afraid to move so she loosens her grip slightly after shaking him a bit but keeps the gun to his head. He reaches slowly into his pocket and pulls out the old Bendectine cross to hold up and show her. Elana takes it and examines it slowly. With a slight smile, she puts her gun away and pulls out a matching cross from her own pocket. So far, you appear to be telling me the truth. If you are in need of shelter, come to my HQ later and we will discuss your talents and abilities to see where you might fit in best. There are a few of us around with these crosses but that alone will not get you into my family or most others. However, I like your enterprising spirit and you appear to be willing to work rather then beg so I am willing to interview you. With that, Elana gave dynamite back his cross, holstered her gun and strolled out of the alley looking at her own cross and smiling at memories from her ancestors stories. |
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| Reply by: ElanaDeLuca at Oct 21, '07 07:23 | |
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As she faded into the darkness he falls down to the curb, looking down. The whole thing left him shaken. He wasn't used to guns being pointed at him. At least not without a little warning. He pulled the cross out of his pocket. What is this? Where did it come from? Why would it cause beautiful women to point guns at me? What did she mean by family? My family is dead... At least I may have found a friend. I hope... She didn't kill me and I always take living as a good sign. Then a man comes walking up the street. The guy is wearing a black hat and coat, walking slowlly. But as the guy passes he just nods. It is nobody he knows... this time it is good be to be a nobody. But this brings back more pressing issues. He places the old cross back in his pocket and once again counts his money. It seems like there's finally enough in there to blow this town. Looks like I'll make it after all. Maybe I should go see some of my Dad's old friends. They might be able to tell more about this cross... and why someone felt the need to blow his brains out. I wonder if I can even find any of them. It has been so long sine I've seen any of them. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 07:53 | |
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God DAMMIT! *She stumbled and nearly fell to her knees as the heel from her shoe fell through the grate and splashed in the cesspool of runoff below. Only when she regained her balance did she see the man, only feet in front of her and not watching where he was going too intently. Instead, his attention was focused on a cross in his hand. A cross that reminded her of her grandmother and a life she thought had been buried under the streets. She tried to shake the feeling, but she couldn't, and her entire life had been molded by the artisan Chance. Perhaps this was a sign that she and this gentleman were destined to meet.* Excuse me, sir? Could I trouble you for some help? |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 11:01 | |
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*Startled out of his pondering he looked up at a woman who looked so familiar the sense of deja-vu almost knocked him to the floor.* Um... yes? *he stuttered and shook his head; regaining his thoughts and placing the cross back in his pocket.* Sorry, I must have been in my own world. What can I do for you? |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 11:19 | |
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I'm afraid I've fallen victim to my fetish for cheap knock off shoes, one of which just tried to knock me off. She smiled warmly and offered her arm, hoping he would accept. My apartment is just a block and a half that way. Could I trouble you for an escort so more of me doesn't end up in the gutters? |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 11:27 | |
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*He takes her arm with a smile and makes sure she is steady on her foot* I can certainly say that after the night I've had a walk with a lovely lady would be quite refreshing. And, well, we all know how vicious those shoes can be. I know they've attacked me when least expected. Just what finds you wandering these streets alone? |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 11:54 | |
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Gratefully, she clung to him for stability and they began their short but laborious (for her anyway) stumbling stroll toward her apartment. I just opened up a shop and had some problems with delivery routes. Apparently city officials told me that I was zoned commercially, but now there's a problem with my licensing fees and placement. She sighed and flashed him her pearlies. But if owning your own business were easy, everyone would do it, right? |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 11:57 | |
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*he helped her slowly homeward as they chatted. he was dazzled by her smile.* *"I've gotta watch out for this one." he thought, "She looks sweet, but I bet she's a crafty one..." Yeah, those damn city officials will screw you over every chance they get. I'm sure they just want more money. But there must be other ways you can get around your delivery route problems. I'd like to own my own business one day, but I don't have enough cash at the moment. Well, I mean I'm not broke. =) But mugging old lady.... I massaging old ladies just doesn't pay very much. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 12:29 | |
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Ah! She feigned a dawning comprehension. But he had thug written all over him. She'd come from a long line of underhanders and could spot one a mile away. Perhaps its why she felt so at home on his arm. She patted his shoulder. Maybe you'll just need to move on up to the richer neighborhoods. Her laugh was genuine and light. Should I feel safe, as I'm not an old lady? Yet? |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 12:38 | |
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*He could tells he didn't quite buy his story. He was usually a bit smoother with his lies, but something about this lady threw his head for a loop.* Yeah, I sure would feel a lot more comfortable in a bigger place. One day, I may just run a real big business. Then I could afford to have people do working for me. *He grins, his eyes a bit distant, then slightly tightens his grip on her arm to keep her from slipping. No, you're safe as can be with me. You aren't old at all, and I really doubt I could take that purse if I tried my hardest. Even with one heel. Plus, it is really strange, you seem very familiar to me. Like we've met or I've seen you before. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 13:24 | |
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I doubt we've met, but great great grandfather helped to build a lot of these buildings with his own two hands. I feel familiar around these parts even though I'm just getting back into town. Her smile faded, but not into melancholy. She looked to him inquisitively, enjoying their talk. How about yourself? Have you lived here long? |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 13:31 | |
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*He knew it wasn't normal to say all of these things to someone he had barely met. But it didn't really seem to matter. For some strange reason he kept thinking of the cross in his pocket. "Maybe he should show it to her?" he thought. "Nah, that would seem strange..."* My family lived here a long time ago. But some sort of tragedy happened and they ended up traveling to distant lands. But in the end I suppose we couldn't stay away. My grandfather moved back when he was young and started a shoe repair business. The bank owns that now. After gramps died things didn't go so well. My dad wasn't great with money. I think he had other problems as well, but I could never be sure. Wow, I guess I'm rambling. It has been one rough night. Like you wouldn't imagine. I lived in New Orleans for all my life, but I'm gonna have to leave real soon. I just don't know where to go. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 14:08 | |
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Rambling? No, you're not rambling. She smiled again, softly and the look in her eyes told him she was paying attention to ever word that fell from his lips. Its been a long time since anyone told me a story. Personal or otherwise. My family comes from all over. My family was well known in Las Vegas for a while. My grandmother had a bit of a secret society there, that wasn't too much of a secret on the surface. But my roots are in Chicago. Its where my great great great and so on grand mother settled a long time ago, and where I'm planning to settle once more. Sometimes things just come full circle. |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 14:11 | |
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I seem to remember something about Chicago in the old family records. They were really weird, and I never understood them. Lots of odd annotations and bitching about a Leprechaun. I think there may be a history of mental illness in my family... *looks around and notices they've reached her building but have just been standing on the sidewalk talking* You're right about things coming full circle. I've often notice that too. It seems like life follows patterns. I have some good friends in Chicago as well and I was planning on going there. But, here's the thing. I need a place to stay and I need a better way to make money. *He clears his throat nervously... hoping she doesn't get angry or even worse call the police...* I thought maybe you might have some connections to get some items I might sell again for more. It would be much better, not to mention safer and more profitable, than robbing places. I also need a place to hide out, there are guys after me. Bad guys that don't want me to see me at the business end of a big gun. *shuffles feet nervously. but he knows there isn't really any better choice than to take this risk.* *He then looks into her deep eyes, hoping. Do you think you could help me out? |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 14:37 | |
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She didn't see any malice in his eyes, but he looked desperate for the help. Her first impression was to excuse herself politely, but then she thought of the story her mother had told her, when she went to Las Vegas to first meet Evey's grandfather and how she too had that pleading look in her eyes. Somewhere along the lines, everyone needed a little help. Perhaps this was her way to pay it forward. She arched her back and pointed to the top of the building. Though it was dark out, one solitary light shone in the lonely apartment, illuminating the gauzy curtains. The top floor... is all mine. Its divided into three parts, actually. I was using one part as a home office, and the other part as my quarters. I have an empty space though, if my counting is correct. She looked back down to him and nodded slowly. You're welcome to it. I can't say why I trust you, exactly, but I do. |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 14:43 | |
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A natural paranoia then overtook him. He looked again at her face and her eyes, he saw nothing to show she was hiding anything or working with or for the men he was trying so desperately to escape. He was suddenly calmer and his mind stopped racing. Some place to hide. Perhaps he would survive after all. Thank you so very much. I cannot express my gratitude to you. I know you don't know me, but I mean you no ill will at all. It is rare these days to find kindness on these streets. I can explain more to you once we're inside. You at least are owed an explanation as to why I am in such a desperate situation. You also need to know exactly what you are getting yourself into... Again he is stuck by deja-vu at the sound of her voice as she cautiously allows him into her home. Saving him from certain death. I will find some way to repay you, though it may take time. |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 15:01 | |
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I ask for no repayment. She stopped just before the stairs that led up to her apartment. But I would settle for a name. Mine's Evey. Evey Hammond, after my mother. |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 16:05 | |
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My name, believe it or not is Dynamite, Dynamite Ross. My parents were really weird. I think it was drugs... But I'm stuck with the name, like it or not. So I figure I'll like it. *gives a big grin and laughs a bit* |
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| Reply by: dynamite at Oct 21, '07 16:15 | |
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Dynamite, eh? Perhaps they were just creatively free spirits. That's a hell of a name to live up to. She turned her back and began ascending the stairs, having him follow behind her. Its a bit of a trek up to the seventh floor, but it helps work off all those Italian Meatballs I eat down at the cucina on the corner. |
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| Reply by: LittleEvey at Oct 21, '07 16:18 | |
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