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Falling Down

July 30, 2009

The rain dances over the city and I can’t help but smile just a little. There is something satisfying about mood-weather. Besides, it helped wash the smell of burning plastic off of me. Not to mention making it harder to see the fire spreading through the building. I bury my hands in deep coat pockets and head for the car. Hopefully the goons inside were distracted enough by the noise he made on the way in.

I’m making good time up the street in the bucket of bolts that passes for my car by the time sirens start off in the distance. Yeah. I’m probably going to have some questions to answer later, but I have a lead. A chance to catch up with a killer that I have a bit of a grudge with. I’ve always prefer the hands on approach to solving problems. The more hands on the better.

The hotel I pull up in front of just screams trouble. Not that the neighborhood really begs for a classy hotel. I drive past the hotel, circling down a street a few blocks down. Hopefully the rain will keep anyone from wandering off with my car. Not that it’s worth wandering off with.

Thunder rumbles through the sounds of rain on the street and I step out of it into the hotel. The lobby is really just a desk with a pasty looking man flipping through a worn skin rag. I head straight to him, deciding to take the direct route.

“Big guy. Scar on his right cheek. Short cropped hair and probably wearing a suit. What room is he in?” I say, pulling out my revolver and checking the rounds.

The desk clerk stares at the gun and slowly lowers the magazine, “We… um…”

I snap the revolver closed, lowering it slightly and settling a finger inside the trigger guard.

The desk clerk swallows hard. “Ground floor, room far back room on the left near the emergency exit.”

“You might want to consider stepping out for a cigarette or something,” I say and start down the hall, keeping the gun in hand. The sound of rough sex leaks from one of the rooms early in the hall, and I keep walking. The door at the end of the hall has a burned out emergency exit sign and is open a crack. I frown a little. It feels wrong. But no where to go but forward now.

I pause at the door, to one side and look it over, considering the locks and frame. It looks flimsy. But if anyone called, it could easily be a trap. Or he could just be good enough to be ready. I close my eyes and picture the dying breath of a young man I promised to help, and the rest comes easy.

I kick the door, and it busts inward, the frame shattering at the deadbolt. I see the killer leaping to his feat at the noise and put a bullet in his right shoulder. He spins to the bed and I’m on top of him before he has a chance to reach for his backup piece.

The red haze slides between my eyes and the world as my fists rearrange his face. Somehow, he manages to get a knife into my arm. The blade breaks off there. Cheap thing. I keep hitting him until he goes loose, but not quite unconscious. Then I drag him to his feat.

“You son of a bitch. I want to know who hired you,” I say, my voice a growl.

He coughs a weak laugh. “You know better then that,” his eyes trail to his gun.

I take two steps, dragging him with and put his face through the hotel window. This gets a bit of a scream from him as I drag him back into the room by the back of his shirt and spin him to face me. “Care to try again?”

“Black book, in my suitcase. Christ, man. Are you fucking insane?”

I draw back my foot and stomp his knee. The pop sound would be sickening if I wasn’t still so angry. He falls to the ground with a high pitched squeal and finally passes out. I pick up my gun and move to his suitcase and dump it on the floor. As he promised, there’s a black ledger with careful notes and photos. Blackmail pieces. He was certainly a gem. I find the page with the young man and rip it out, folding it and tucking it into my pocket. I toss the book onto him and head for the door. I figure the cops will appreciate that little gesture. Maybe buy me enough time to finish this.

Back out in the rain the red fades for the moment and the aches from the fight start to settle. My knuckles are a mess. Not a surprise considering I wasn’t exactly being careful with my punches. And the knife in my arm was still oozing slowly and hissing with pain with the cold, damp air. I shake my head and stumble back to the car. Got to get some distance before planing my next move. Before the cops showed up and hauled me in and put a stop to it. To me.

I find the car and manage to get a few miles away, back into civilization enough to find a gas station to park in with some light. The world slid sideways for a moment and I clenched my teeth, growling and dragging it back with every ounce of my will. The night wasn’t over yet.

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  1. […] Of Stars and Muses Just another WordPress.com weblog « Midnight Snacks Falling Down Part II August 6, 2009 Read Part I Here […]



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