In a Perfect World Part. 3

11
Acid


The football field’s grass was somewhat wet, but dry enough to sit on. The two friends sat down dead on the 50-yard line, gripping the attaché case in their hands. Roland laid the case down beside him as he pulled a lighter from his packet along with a pack of smokes. Roland tapped the pack of cigarettes on his palm letting a smoke slide out, and he grabbed pulled it from the pack. The field gave off an open wind, causing Roland to put his hands over his face. James started to rip up the coloured pictures he got from Jack’s into squares, and Roland finally got his cigarette lit. “What are you doing?”

         “I’m ripping up the stamps”

         “Its LSD…blotter paper”

         “I know…”

         “Then why are you ripping it?”

         “I’m just gonna try it”

         Roland took a drag from his cigarette and began to blow the smoke from the side of his mouth, “James, it’s a crazy drug…just leave it…” James looked at Roland’s mouth as he spoke those words, but also set a piece of tattered coloured paper on his tongue. “Shit, James you ass, why’d you do that?”

         “Man, we’ve been shot at all night, just about died from a car crash, and were hit the face with shovels…someone is playing with our lives…”

         “OK”

         “If I’m going out of this world... I’m going out with a smile on my face…”

         “Maybe, your right James…” Roland said to James almost as if James was a child, and blew the smoke again from his mouth and laid his back on the field staring towards the stars. “Man, this nice, just looking at the stars…”

         “In a perfect world we’d have girls besides us right now…eh Roland?”

         “You bet man,” Roland turned his head to drop the cigarette from his mouth and let it butt itself out, “In a perfect world…” Roland began to feel tired as he laid down looking at the stars, letting his eyelids close with the vision of the football bleaches in the corners of his eyes. The now soothing sound of sirens in the background lulled him to sleep. James pulled the old tin from his back pocket, and pulled his last joint from it, and lit it with Roland lighter that lay in his relaxed hands.

         Each drag of the joint was relaxing as he rested one hand on the grass, “Roland?” James looked towards his buddy and only received distant mummers from his tired mouth, “Think we should just lay here?” James asked knowing that trouble would find it’s way to them.

         “Hmm…” Roland muttered as he let sleep take him, “Maybe…” James knew his friend wasn’t going to answer and decided to walk up the bleachers in his drug-powered lonesome. James moved up the bleachers, looking out on the bare field to see his friend sloped out with the black case beside his sleeping body. James reached the top of the bleachers and looked over to see buildings in the distance. The stars and buildings amused James and city sounds made him giggle, as he leaned on the back of the bleachers. The sky felt like it moved as an odd sting in his head and arms tingled his body. He watched the stars twinkle by and lost himself in the midst of the world. The buildings towered over him, and the lights in the windows glimmered with a smile.

         James spent what felt like hour-long minutes staring at the objects around him, hearing every sound for its full worth…”James,” the sky called him…”James”… “James”

         “Yes, I’m here” James called his stared towards the sky awaiting amazement, “I’m here…”

         “James…James…James”

         “Yes,” James looked around, “I’m here!”

         “James” the voice became harsher, “James, James, James!”

         “Yes, Yes, Yes” James yelled as the sky melted together with buildings and the voice of the sky became louder and louder and harsher and harsher.

         “James…You ass!” James looked around confused by the sky harsh words, and looked down to the field, “James! Help you ass!!!” James looked closer at the field to see Roland being kicked by the large black him man, with the white man moving towards the case which now sat further from Roland’s body that was kicked three feet from the case.

         James now snapped to some senses felt for a gun. James didn’t feel any gun on him, forgetting that he left his gun in the crashed blue car, outside and that Roland had his own gun between his belt and pants. James who was still un-noticed by the hit men reached for the metal bars that held up the bleachers. James pulled on the rusted bars that pieced that scalping like bleachers, knowing there was no way the carefully welded football bleachers would let a metal bar be pulled from them, the acid high James kept pulling. The grunts from James mouth were a sign that maybe his pulling was working.

         The white hit man now was in control of the case as the black man kept kicking Roland as he coughed up blood. The black man teased Roland by waiting for the blood to be coughed up, and letting Roland come to his knees before another whip kick to the ribs. James pulled on the rusty metal bars and his hands were brown from the rust. James stopped pulling on the bleachers and took a breath looking out to the field as Roland stopped calling his name, and both men kicked Roland with intense blows. James ran down the bleachers, knowing know that they were to well built, and began to move slyly to a small shed behind the bleachers, still the two hired guns didn’t notice James moving quickly to the shed.

         James heard each blow to the sides of Roland very carefully; he could hear the crack, the cough, and the laughter of the two men. This pattern of kicks, coughs, and laughs continued as James shook the doorknob of the old shed. The doorknob rattled as if it was locked, but James using the old shed at football games to make-out knew it would never lock only pretend to. A hip check to the door let, burst open revealing a dark, small room full of equipment and lawn care products.

         James looked around, knowing what he wanted as the rhythm of kicks, coughs, and laughter played in the background. The rhythm soon stopped throwing James concentration off. Now the sound of coughs rang and the moans of Roland were shattering to his friend in the storage shed, then the coughs became drowned out when the cocking of shotgun quickly rang in James ears. James then reached for what he went into the shed for.

         “You sad son of a bitch,” the black hit man spoke, “You shoot at us like a jackass…”

         “You run our car off the road…” the white man interrupted, “and took our property…this case,” the white man held up the case and looked at Roland’s tattered body.

         “And now you’re done…” the black man aimed the gun towards Roland as he looked up into their cold eyes, “See you in hell!”

         Bash! A baseball bats aluminum vibration rang as it hit the black hit man’s head causing him to drop the gun, and stumble away from the action towards the ends zone. James walked towards the unarmed and shocked white man. James lifted the bat behind his shoulder and swung with his eyes closed. Bash! The blow knocked the smaller, white man to the ground out cold. James turned around to see the black man stumbling around trying to nurse his massive head pain. James swung back the bat again, and closed his eyes with a pain in his heart, and bashed a second blow to the head of the black hit man sending him to the ground.

         Just like Roland back in the movie theater lot, James looked down upon his best friend. James waited for Roland to come to his senses, and wipe some blood from his face. “How are you?” James asked Roland knowing the answer but wanting to hear Roland’s voice. James waited for an answer…

“I’ve been…better…” Roland grinned as he said the words let that James know he wasn’t completely beaten to a pulp. Before extending a hand to the tattered Roland, James picked up the cocked shotgun that lay on the ground beside him. He reached his other hand towards Roland with a confident smile, as Roland lifted his arm to meet. Roland looked towards James on the way up from the ground, and laughed with his teeth blood stained.

         Roland picked up the suitcase from the ground and stared at the two hit men on the ground. He began to walk towards the football field exit, “Well James, that’s one problem out of the way…”


































12
Sneak the Creek
         
         
It seemed as though no place could hold the two trouble magnets, for long. The thoughts of serenity crossed both their minds, thinking that without the two hired guns the night might become relaxed. Knowing that sirens followed them, and cops were stepping over causalities to catch them, Roland had shards of hope in his mind the night may be a swish of crazy dreams or a game. From that point Roland began to think of the night as a game, believing that everything could be undone but truly knowing he has turned down a road that has an entrance but no exit, except death.

         As for James the mightiness of his senses took over his ability to worry and feel guilt. The two walked down a side road trying to stay off the main roads, and James stared at every tree with a smile, and laughed at the cats that crossed the skinny side road. The conversation was low but comfortably silent, for the two had a lighter feel to them then most of the night, for the first time in the night they felt superior.

         If there was one thing the two knew it was the pathways that weaved around their town. These pathways that once were used to get them to and from parties, now hid them from the police infested streets. The two quietly walked the paths, and Roland swung the case in his left hand. James had the newfound shotgun rested across his shoulder facing backwards. James kept staring at objects along the path, until they reached a green footbridge that guided the path across a small creek.

         James looked to his side as they crossed the bridge, to see a building the distance, the building had a familiar outline, and shocked James slowing down his senses. Roland noticed that James had stopped to look at the old building. The building had what looked like a smokestack and the silhouette of a small water tower haunted the path among the scattered trees. The small amount of lights that shone inside the building came through the windows to leave an eerie cast of light upon the trickling creek. As Roland looked up upon the unused smoke stacks he muttered, “the oat factory…” James stared up and down the building as thoughts of hit men passed his mind.

         “Do you think?” James drugged mind started to lose a battle to his memory, “Do you think we could…”

         “Get the money…” Roland finished the sentence, “No, It’s to dangerous”

         “But…the two crazy guys from the BMW are dead…and so is the guy from the…gas joint”

         Roland looked towards James, “What are the chances, of another case just sitting in there?”

         “You tell me…”

         “I’d like to find out” Roland’s mind soon turned to greed, much like it did in the gas joint situation. Only thinking of the possibilities of money, Roland had no essence of thought in his mind of danger or bad situations, even though the night was full of it.

         Roland walked slowly to the end of the footbridge coming to the continuation of the path. James stood on the green bridge in awe of the haunting relic of an oat factory. James’ concentration moved to Roland as the rocks in creek bed moved by Roland’s steps that was now in the two inch deep river. “Wow, Roland wait up…”

         “Lets go then…” Roland didn’t stop, but only just yelled back to James who was moving much slower then usually from the acid intakes. James tripped down the side of the bank and slid into the creek watching Roland in the distance, swinging his case around. James quickened his steps up the shallow creek to reach Roland with the shotgun on his shoulder bouncing around.

         “Ok, so what is the plan…”?

         “Not really sure James,” Roland kept a determined fix on the oat factory in the un-lit creek, “Not rally sure…I’m kinda hoping the case is just sitting there…”

         “Well…we need a…plan…” James’ acid swished words melted together.

         “James?”

         “…Ya…”

         Roland finally stopped to turn to look a James, “Have we had a plan this whole night?”

         “Not really”

         “Exactly!” Roland began walking swifter towards the oat factory, until the two of them stared up towards the large window that the light shone through. The large main door stared at the two friends calling for them to open it. James looked around expecting to find trouble as he pulled the shotgun off his shoulder.

         James had never before held a shotgun; it felt like a strange tool among James’ hands. The handles and odd objects that stuck on the heavy gun amazed James. Sober James would never hold such a tool; regular James would never shoot it, but stoned and crazed James was awaiting the prize that was resting inside the factory.

         Roland moved ahead of James and walked towards the large main double doors, as James gently loped his way up the creek bank weaving his head around, and laughing with the gun gripped in both his cut up hands. His tight Hawaiian shirt blew in the cold night breeze, and the effects of LSD downed the cuts on his face out.

         Roland’s brown shirt was blackened with blood, as he scaled the metal doors almost staling before he had to open it. James walked up behind Roland and bobbed his head side to side almost asking what are you waiting for without using words.

         Roland felt James’ impatience behind him and began to move his cut hand towards the door as he gripped the attaché case in his left hand, which shook with excitement, one of the first times in the night.


































13
Oat Factory


The old metal handles stung Roland’s cut hands when the rust sunk into the cuts. Roland had to pull with extra strength then he thought he would need, after the second tug the rusty door opened, revealing a dark foyer that smelt of must. James followed Roland into the factory with a dog like stride, dragging his way behind its owner. As the two slowly walked there way into the factory with the knew feel of confusion with the odd building, the smell of cigar smoke invaded their noses.

         Roland followed the stench of cigar around the corner of the foyer into the main assembly line type room. The room sat bare, with it’s abandoned and ghost town like feel. The stench of the quality cigars haunted the two friends’ nostrils as they looked towards a small office room with a light on inside. Smoke seeped underneath the doorway of the small office room, and it fogged the window, which let light glimmer through and cast the silhouettes people inside upon the dusty factory floor.

         “Oh Shit” Roland whispered, “There’s people here…” Roland looked towards James almost waiting for James to run, so that Roland didn’t look cowardly.

         “Lets go…this was…”

         “Bad idea,” Roland finished James’ acid slurred sentence, “Lets go…go, go” James began to move quickly out of the room, as Roland followed. James began to turn to talk to Roland…Bang!

         The shotgun went off in James’ hands and hit an old piece of machinery. The sound echoed through the old factory, with dust flying down from the old rafters. “Who’s out there?” a voice rang from the office angrily, that followed by the sound of footsteps, “hey! Who’s there?” the voice got angrier as the two friends stood petrified unable to move. The voice began to talk to the footsteps, “Get out there and find them”

         The two friends still had trouble moving almost waiting for the trouble to reach them. Roland began to quietly turn, allowing a well-dressed man to view them, “Got em!” the well dressed man yelled as he reached to pull his gun from his side…Boom…

         The acid filled James, blew the man back a few feet with his shotgun. By this time more men were moving across the dark factory room trying to find the boys. Roland looked up seeing a staircase to an upper level, but soon the new found fearless or stoned James was running up the stairs. The shotgun’s handle felt looser in his hand then earlier, realizing it wasn’t cocked stoned James cocked the gun, almost knowing that more trouble lay ahead.

         A steady stream of shots rang from below in the darkness, and for the first time in the night an automatic weapon was being fired…ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-ta…the gun hit the metal stairs and rafters the boys ran along. Roland became scared hoping an exit came at the end, but not only an exit to the factory, and exit to the night, an exit to the events, an exit to the trouble of the darkness. With that though another…Boom…rang from James’ shotgun towards the floor, but missed the reloading automatic gunner. James took the lead across the rafters and towards another staircase down at the end.

         Roland ran, staring at James his hallucinating, laughing, shot gun shooting, drugged up friend. Roland was amazed at James and by this time the sound of the ringing bullets rang again. Roland ducked thinking it was protecting them. James now running down the other side of the staircase heard the voices of yelling men with the ring of bullets.

         Roland saw a doorway out towards the end of the stairway, “James the door…” Roland hoped that James heard his yells over top the cling of machines and flying bullets.

         “What…man?” James said more out of drugged confusion, then inability to hear.

         “The god damn door…go through it…go!” James looked towards the door and in the factory’s darkness the two sped through door, and slammed it entering the creek outside. James looked back at Roland still hearing the shots in the dark factory. Roland began to run up the creek for his life, while James took his time fiddling in his pockets, “James lets move!” Roland yelled back at James, and James stayed still playing with his gun and pockets, but soon started jogging towards Roland.

         “Man, Roland…calm down, we got away” James had Roland stopped in the creek, as he looked him in the eye with the gun over his shoulder, here stick one of these stamps…on your tongue” James held out a piece of the blotter paper, and Roland stared thinking of how it has effected James, but took the piece of paper from James, “come on Roland, we don’t…have all day…”

         Roland set the blotter stamp on his tongue awaiting the acid effect…Boom!

         Roland was shot in the leg, “Shit!” Roland screamed looking for the shooter and James turned holding the shotgun up waiting to kill. From the darkness a silhouette appeared, Franz, the mob boss, stood with a gun dead on James’ head as Roland hobbled around in pain.

         “You sorry sacks of shit!” Franz belted as the two first heard the voice of the man who turned their night backwards, “Where’s Sam and Rick?”

         “Who,” Roland questioned as he was hobbled over.

         “The hit men…the god damn…hit man…”

         “There dead,” James answered as he had his gun centered on Franz, “We killed the damn hit men!” Franz stared at James as he answered.


         “Alright, you’re dead…you’re dead!” Franz screamed as he pulled the hammer back on his handgun.

         “He’s got a shotgun…you ass…” Roland quietly said from his pain filled position.

         Franz laughed, “He fired his two shots already…you stoners couldn’t re-load to save you life”

         BOOM!

         Franz was dead.

         “I re-loaded” James said remembered the bullets he put in as he was fiddling in the factory exit, “And I saved my life” The creek washed the blood down into the flowing river as the smoke exited from the shotgun.









         

         



         









14
Fun Bowl


         The sound of the street and the night air felt almost foreign from the gunshots and anger from the factory. James threw his gun into the woods on the out to street, and now Roland began to get the high off the LSD. Roland pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, his first cigarette since the football field beating.

         The smoke felt like an old friend being reunited to the throat inside Roland’s mouth. The two walked the streets in a daze, both laughing and in awe of the night sky. Both looked liked they’d been through a war, more blood stained and cut-up then at any other time. James’ shoulder was blue and bruised from the shotgun shots. The two were unaware of their position until they saw the neon sign in the short distance.

         Fun Bowl

         The bowling ally they so badly wanted to go to with their friends. This place, it was where the two could have been other then the crazy situations they have been in all night. They stood outside of the bowling ally almost craving fun, as the neon sign amused their eyes. “What’s the time?” Roland asked to James, with a complete loss of the night’s time.

         “Um, 12:15” James answered to Roland with a look at his watch.

         “It closes at 2:00 and the fun bowl started at 11:00”

         “Well, lets go fun bowling” James said as he went for the door with his cut up hands. The bowling ally door felt less painful to Roland’s hands when he opened it, and James held the door to let Roland through. A set of stairs led down to the basement-bowling ally, and Roland leaned against the railing and hopped down with his good foot. The stairs felt kilometers long, and the entrance at the bottom was the temple. The temple that they wanted to find this entire night was only down a set of stairs, and the stairway melted into the walls, as the two bruised down.

         The stairs came to end and they stood at the bottom entrance, the temple was here. James this time went for the door and Roland admired the goal they achieved. The two walked into the ally, the sound of rolling and rumbling filled their ears. Each of them could hear every pin’s screams as it fell to the ground from the balls crushing blow. Each could hear the conversations of every person in the ally, and hear their excitement when pins were being hurt. The pins were like the two boys, the ball a foot, and the bowlers were the laughing men in the football field and the movie lot.

         James began to spin around looking at the lights flashing from the fun bowl. The fun bowl was like bowling in a dance club, made for teens taking their dates out, the lights flickered a music played at full blast. The room became a living hallucination with lights, sounds, music, and people. Both boys span around in circles to intake their prize, their goal, their temple; it was their bowling ally.

         James began to walk towards a pool table a few feet in front of them, and he fiddled again in his pockets. Roland was gripping the suitcase in his hand as he stared at the people in the bowling ally, he began talking to him-self, and almost screaming but couldn’t be heard over top the blasting music and rumble of the alleys.

         James swished around in his pockets for change, trying to find a dollar to put in the pool table. Roland was gripping a case that held one-and-a-half million dollars, but a single dollar was no ware to be seen. James went to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet to grab a twenty-dollar bill and go break it at the cashier. Roland was now walking up and down the bowling ally looking at the people bowling.

         James went to the cashier in a daze, seeing a young guy leaning against a shoe rack. “Hi, there…” James slurred his relaxed voice when he held out the twenty hoping the cashier knew what he wanted.

         “Change?” the young guy asked taking the money, “You want change?”

         “Yep…” The cashier moved to the till and looked at the variety of change combinations for the twenty and then looked up to see James, “What do you want?” asking for want kind of change he needed.

         “Change,” The young guy knew James wasn’t all there and assumed he wanted to play pool, so gave him a ten a five and five dollar coins. James grabbed the change from the young cashier. James held the money in his hand and moved back to the table. Roland was now leaning against the table watching the bowlers. “Roland, lets play…” James said ad he stuck a dollar in the slot.

         Roland only nodded and grabbed a cue from the rack on the wall. The billiard balls rattled as they flowed from the machine. James set up the balls in the rack, and by now Roland had the cue ready to break. James removed the triangle rack, and Roland quickly slammed the cue ball into the rack of ball knocking them in different directions. No balls went into the pockets, and it became James’ turn and Roland admired a group of teens bowling and laughing. James eyed up his shot and hammered the 9-ball into the side pocket, and he began to eye up another shot, “You made a mistake playing me Roland” James chuckled as he hammered another ball into a pocket.

         Roland still watched the group of teens and the sound of balls going into pockets flowed in the background. This group fascinated Roland, and they seemed oddly familiar. “Roland, my man, I’m going to run the table” James spoke from the table, realizing Roland was occupied with this group.

         Roland looked towards ally 13 where the teens where playing, and viewed who was up rolling their ball, it was…Jesse, the girl from the online chat who said she couldn’t go. Roland stared at the group of teens who laughing and jumping around. James kept knocking balls into pockets, even the ones that weren’t his. Roland continued to stare at the group, as another girl walked up to roll her ball it was Kristy. Kristy said she couldn’t go either, but was swinging the ball down the ally like an amateur. Roland soon looked towards the bench beside the groups ally. Sitting on the bench was Nina; she was sitting with some other guy, and had her hand on his lap. Roland had seen the guy before but was too stoned to think of his name.

         James had shot down the final ball on the table with a winners chuckle, “Roland, my man, you…” BOOM!

         A blast rang from Roland’s gun causing that familiar sound of a crowd running, “Holy Shit!” James yelled as he began to walk towards Roland whose gun was being held in the air. The shot had missed the group the teens, but started the symphony of screams and running. The sound of rumbling now left the air, as Roland moved towards the guy that was with Nina. The guy was against a wall attempting to hide.

         Roland moved swiftly but didn’t run holding the gun in front of and he eyed the prize of Nina’s newfound boyfriend. James walked behind him, holding a pool cue in his hand. The final sound of the doors swing ended and the last of the bowling alleys crowd ran off. Roland heard the sounds of people knelt behind the counter, now realizing they couldn’t run, only hide.

         Roland stared at the cowering boyfriend who was back to the wall. The dots of light from the alleys disco ball revealed shards of his scared face. Roland walked over alleys and slid a little from the wax, still not removing his center on the boyfriend. “You…” Roland said forgetting the stranger boyfriend’s name, “You…you looked pretty happy just there?” Roland moved towards the boyfriend until his gun was an inch from his face.

         “Ya…” The friend said cowering.

         “Do you know, what I have been threw tonight?” the boyfriend didn’t answer.

         “Do you know what I’ve been threw”

         “No!”

         “I’ve came so close to death himself, that I know his mother’s maiden name”

         “That’s close” James slurred from behind Roland gripping the pool cue.

         Roland ignored his friend and continued, “I’ve…I’ve killed people, and robbed people, and disgusted people, and have been disgusted by people!” The boyfriend began to sweat, with the guns cool end almost touching his forehead, “And all I’ve wanted to do…this whole night…was…” Roland’s acid driven words lost the battle to his anger, “was to go, god damn bowling with a girl I like!”

         “Sorry, just don’t shoot come on!”

         “Have you killed a man?”

         “No”

         “Have you robbed a man?”

         “No”

         “Have you done something so bad that it disgusts some one?”

         “No”

         “Have you, seen some of the ugliest, deadliest, most intense bullshit things that you have been disgusted by people?”

         “No!”

         “Well then why do you deserve to sit here with no work towards your goal, and just have Nina McKenzie?”

         “I don’t know!” Roland almost cut the boyfriend off as he pulled the trigger…

         There were no bullets in the gun.

         The boyfriend ducked under the useless gun a shot a punch into Roland’s stomach. Roland went down onto the slippery ally as his friends, other people fists, reunited with his face. Roland heard the sound of James’ giggles from the ally next to him, until James realized what had happened. The pool cue that rested in his hands soon met with back of the beating boyfriends head knocking him out, but with crack of the pool cue.

         The case that was gripped in Roland’s hands had now slid down the ally away from them, and James dropped his broken cue. James then moved down the ally to grab the case, and Roland got up from ground with a blood lip. James had the case gripped in his hands as he stared at Roland seeing the bowling entrance in the background. Roland coughed and looked at James with the pins in the background. “Well, so much for…fun Bowl…eh?” Roland said and James stared beyond him toward the entrance, as the entrance door opened. “James?”…Boom!

         James went to ground from a shot in the side.

         Detective Kirkland had come into the ally, and shot James. Roland turned to now see Kirkland staring him in the face with his gun even closer. Kirkland’s drunkenness, anger, and will to get the two boys shone in his eyes. “You son of a bitch,” Kirkland stared at Roland, You…” Kirkland shook his head as Roland awaited the lecture of another angry enemy. “You…bastard”

         If one thing was good about Kirkland, it was how he got down to business, and didn’t talk. Kirkland wanted them dead quick and wanted it dirty, like the stoned mobster once said to Roland at the gas joint about their hit target. Kirkland stared at Roland for a fraction of a second then pulled the trigger…Boom…

         The shot didn’t come from Kirkland’s gun, but from someone down the ally. The shot went into Kirkland.

         Kirkland was dead.

         Roland looked down the ally to see Detective Darwin holding a smoking gun. Roland was surprised to see the cop, and how he was saved from death. The nicer of the two detectives had just saved Roland, a teen who had terrorized the streets, from the crazy drunk of a cop, Kirkland. “Thanks…” Roland stared at the now grinning detective.

         “Your welcome…” Darwin lowered his gun, and began to walk towards Roland.

         “What’s the deal?”

         Darwin didn’t answer Roland’s question of confusion, and he moved towards James’ body on the bowling ally. James lay upon the ground shaking from the pain his hands were held over the bullet in his side. Darwin took his jacket of and held it against James’ wound. “He’ll be fine…” Darwin extended a hand towards James, “Get up…good thing Kirkland’s a bad shot, he only took some flesh, and you’ll just have to heal”

         Roland had seen a fat man jump in front of cars, a BMW speeding down a park path, and some of the craziest of folk, but hadn’t been as confused as he was that moment. A cop was helping them and Roland stood confused.

         James was now standing put hobbled over from the wound. He held the cops jacket as he limped towards a bench, and the disco balls lights guided his way. Darwin and Roland soon moved to the bench beside James. “So…what’s the deal…really?” Roland still confused looked at the cop.

         “Have you looked inside the case?” Darwin looked at Roland. Roland was still confused from Darwin’s skill of answering questions with questions.

         “Ya, I’ve looked inside”

         “What’s in it?”

         “Money…”

         “And?”

         “An envelope…”

         “What’s in the envelope?”

         “Not sure, I never looked, we just cared about the money”

         “I think it’s the hit” James forced out as he sat on the bench coughing.

         “Look inside” Darwin ordered Roland. Roland moved back to the ally with a limp from the earlier shot in the leg. He grabbed the infamous black attaché case, and came back to a sitting position. The once shined chrome latches that glimmered in the streetlights now a dried red blood on them. The latches still had the same click when Roland opened the case to see its contents tossed around. The envelope was somewhat thick and Roland picked it up from the pile of tossed contents.

         Roland’s over warn hands ripped the seal of the yellow envelope slowly, and Darwin awaited the reveal. A small stack of papers leaked out as Roland tipped the envelope onto his hand. James sat coughing on the bench, and Roland oriented the sheets to read.  Atop the sheet was a name in bold.

         Fillip Darwin

         “You’re the hit?” a picture of Darwin in a less suiting attire was clipped to the page when Roland said those words.

         “I am…”

         “They wanted us to kill a cop?” James coughed out as his bloodstained teeth and Hawaiian shirt sat confused.

         “I’m not a cop…” following Darwin’s words, the two waited for further information.

         “You know Franz?” Realizing the two didn’t know this name he continued, “The mob boss,” The two nodded, “He is my brother. The story is to long to tell to you two, but in basic…he scammed me into the police force for to get on the inside of the situation, but in a certain circumstance the time arose that I had to stop one of his operations. I couldn’t stop the police from raiding the warehouse where his operations were held, or I’d be discovered…so I…”

         The two listened to Darwin speak his story, “So I helped out, and Franz got angry, I knew that he would have the hit on me soon, being the ruthless man he is. When we heard you had the hit forced on you, I found out the situation…”

         Still the two sat quietly, almost not grasping the words from Darwin’s mouth. Neither asked questions, knowing in their acid filled minds they didn’t need them. Roland began to get up and leave letting the night soak in to his mind. “You can leave, go ahead…get home,” Darwin told the two confused and drugged-up teens.

         “What about the case?”

         “Take out three-thousand of it”

         Roland couldn’t count the money stacks very well and just grabbed three stacks of twenties not knowing their value and stuck them in his pocket, “Thanks man” Roland said squeezing in the money.

         “No give me the three-thousand, you keep the rest” Roland looked at the generous man sitting in front of him and pulled the stacks from his pocket. Roland closed the case with the rest of the money, and began to leave letting Darwin sit and look upon the dead bowling ally. A simple hand on the shoulder was the signal that let James rise from the bench in a bit of pain.

         No goodbyes were exchanged, no thank-yous were issued, and only the silence and James hobbled to the exit of the ally with Roland’s help. They moved up one stair and looked back as they left to see Darwin, he was sitting down relaxed with a grin on his friendly face.
















15
The chariot

         For the first time that night, it was quiet. The after hours had taken the noises of the troubled night and turned them into a silent wind. The only light was the buzzing lamp above the two inside the bus stop booth. The awaited the last bus of the night in silence, and relief.

         James wore his tattered and tight Hawaiian shirt, sported with the bloodied wife-beater. The black jacket of the friendly Darwin was pressed against his wound. James’ ribs were bruised and arms were cut and he looked out the glass bus stop awaiting his chariot, the 1:30 bus.

         Roland sat bruised and cut as well, but with more bruises on the inside. His brain was sore from the intense night. Roland had at one time or another seen it all, but never seen it all in one night. His brain was a sponge that night, which soaked up the air of violence and drugs. His brain had soaked the words of corrupted men, men who were addicts, drunks, brutes, or kind. He only sat to think not noticing his bruises and cuts, but more having the feeling of unbelievably in his mind.

         The two looked up into the sky from the bus stop, to see the stars. The stars something that at dusk were of few, much like the possibilities of the twos night, but now filled with many stars which revealed themselves the harder you looked. Maybe these stars where not possibilities of the night for the boys, but maybe were memories.

         The things that happened that night would not be forgotten to Roland or James, and they knew that tomorrow they may wish different. They thought that in the morning their crimes might not be as overlooked as the corrupted world of the night took them. Maybe the wide-eyed bravery of the day, might take them in a different direction.

         With that thought, the blinding beam of headlights came down the road and James hobbled up to meet it with Roland. The bus stopped and its doors opened, the chariot out of nights corruption was dead in front of them. The tired looking bus driver awaited the two as the worked their way up the stairs.

         Like ghosts the two worn out teens awoke the bus driver form his tiredness, and he decided not to ask. James fiddled for dollar coins in his pocket and placed two in the slot. The door closed the bus moved on.

         The empty bus was cold with eeriness. The two sat towards the back, a suitcase gripped in their possession and bruised to almost death. The bus’s breaks squeaked and puffed along the route, and it gave the two a happy feeling of familiar sounds. The feeling of the bus was not foreign to the two as most things were that night.

         Both gazed from the window at the now empty streets, with a tired and dead feel. The bus quiet and determined to make it through the route one last time, the driver almost asleep, driving with the memory of his route.
         
         Roland turned from the window to look at James who was hobbled over squinted still getting his head around the idea that he’s been shot. Roland waited for James to notice him waiting. James looked up to Roland, “James?”

         “Ya”

         “You think we’ll wake up tomorrow, and this will never of happened”

         James had a small chuckled and sat up straight fighting the pain. He looked towards Roland with a grin and began, “In a perfect world…in a perfect world.”



THE END