Malaysia Delay

PREFACE

He sat in the middle of the room. There was only one light and it was staring down on him with its bright yellow eye. It was so uncomfortable he would have moved had it not been for the fact that he was tied to the chair with barbed-wire. It was a clever little way of keeping him from prying loose.
The chair was nailed to the floor and had been so for many years, which was evident by looking at it. It had green stains near the neck and arm rests from profuse sweating of the ones seated before him. These were only matched by the amount of brown spots of dry blood, probably from the same occupants.
Despite this dire situation he wore nothing but confidence in his large grin.
“You know we aren’t going to do this much longer. You either tell us now or we end it. Understand?” This was said by a voice behind him.
His only response was his continuous grinning which he tried to make more evident just to signify he heard the man. There was a muffled gunshot in another one of the many rooms the building contained.
“Hmm, I was afraid of that,” said the disembodied voice, “Alright, I see where this is going. I have tried to be considerate.”
He then felt a cylinder against his head which he recognized to be the barrel of a gun. It was pressed so hard against his head he could taste its razor blade proximity.
The last sound Michael Pitkus heard was a gunshot.


CHAPTER ONE

Despite being in the big city near a busy street the Ridgeway Room was a club that didn’t see much action, at least in comparison to the clubs around it, which was how the owner liked it. He always said “I wouldn’t know what to do with all those people.” He would further justify his dislike of crowds by claiming “we have something they don’t: warm environment.” Not many understood this since all that empty space made the bar feel a bit cold and lifeless, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Despite the previous description this particular Thursday saw a great deal of business, much to the anger of the owner, due to an 80’s band playing there, and flooded the place with middle aged men and women looking for nostalgia. They wanted the fountain of youth and they found it for the price of a ticket.

Despite all of the action going on inside the club one person was waiting outside in the parking lot alone. He propped himself up against the wall of the building, a cigarette being the only source of warmth in the cold weather.
The man in question was Karl Simonov, a member of the Russian mob waiting for his partner. He didn’t really need him, but sometimes he needed an English translator in case he got to deep in a conversation and couldn’t handle it, but for the most part his English was good enough. He just liked being prepared for every contingency.
Finally the partners black car pulled in, looking like a golden stream against the light of the signs. Karl flicked his cigarette which vanished with a flicker into the shadow of the wall. They didn’t say a word to each other; they just went in the back door of the building.
The door opened to a little room behind the stage where a man was seated playing poker with himself on a folding table covered with old cigarette burns and pits making it look like the surface of the moon.
“Gidye Tyler?” Karl asked.
The man didn’t even look up from his card game, but merely pointed to the other door leading to the club.
Karl and his partner then walked through the door being hit with a wave of loud music which sounded like a mix of 80’s new wave and Hank Thompson. The floor was encrusted with decade old vomit, beer stains and years of stomping making it look like an old worn out pair of shoes, leaving only hints that it was once sparkling new. All of the waitresses were running around taking orders and delivering beer on giant platters. They were all in their mid forties or so, but looked older due to too many years working in smoke filled bars. You could see their rough lives through the cracks in their faces, and their bodies covered in tattoos that had aged about as well as the person wearing them: Tattoos saying “Give peace a chance” and tattoos of women looking old and winkled against the skin resembling an old deflated football. 
All of the tables had at least three occupants each bumping their knees to the beat. At the end, however, there was one person sitting alone almost as if he didn’t notice the music. He was just staring in a hypnotic trance at the stage with a blank expression on his face. The man seated in this trance was none other than Tyler Freeman.
Karl tried yelling something to him but he just kept staring at the stage almost as if he was completely oblivious to the fact that there was anyone in the room with him. Finally his eyes wondered over to the man, shifting the expression on his face as if he was indignant at the fact that he was being interrupted from the music that you could never tell he was enjoying. He finally rose and slowly followed them through the thin avenues of people enjoying the music full force now.
They finally made their way back to the little room behind the stage, which was no longer being occupied by the one man poker game. Tyler took his seat at the table and the two men stood in front of him almost as if they were trying to block him into the corner. Karl took out a cigarette pack and presented it to the cornered man.
“Khatiti sigeretoo?” he asked him.
“Nyet, spasiba,” Tyler replied in somewhat broken Russian.
“Vi gavariti pahrooski?”
“Ya gavaroo pahrooski nimnoga.”
“Well I’ll speak in English for you then” Karl said, him now speaking in a broken tongue, “Do you know who I am?”
“Yeah, I think I have seen you once or twice. You work for my boss, Stan Wexton.”
“Yeah. He has a favor to ask. He has a kid who has never spent much time around the business and he was wondering if you could take him on a Trial Run.”
Tyler’s face returned to its irate expression as if he was disappointed in the question. A Trial Run was kind of like a one day training program for hit men for just such occasions of spoiled kids having to get into the business. It wasn’t difficult for the most part, but Tyler wasn’t exactly a person who liked spending his time with bumbling kids. He sighed rather loudly and said “I guess.”
Karl seemed surprise it was that easy, and smiled.
“Just one question,” Tyler said after some silence, “Why did he have you come and tell me? Why not tell me tomorrow at the office?”
“Oh, I almost forgot” Karl answered, “You will be taking the kid into the office first thing in the morning. You will meet him at this coffee house.”
Karl produced a business card from his pocket and laid it on the table in front of Tyler who just stared at it and didn’t try to reach for it.
“Name and time are on the back” Karl continued after realizing that he wasn’t going to say anything.
Tyler seemed distracted by a platter of ham and different cheeses being swarmed by flies at battle with the cockroaches for the stale food, seeing who was going to win.
“I don’t imagine,” Tyler finally said, still examining the war going on the table, “I have much of a choice in the matter, now do I?”
“No…I don’t imagine you do.”
Eventually Karl understood that there was no use in trying to further the conversation so he nodded, started to head out the door and said “Dasfidahniya.”
After some time passed Tyler finally got bored with the little war going on and reached for the card and examined the actual card instead of the writing on it as if he had never seen one before, and then looked on the back of the card and read the name: David.

Chapter Two


Theo was waiting outside of Dave’s house to give him a ride to the coffee shop. His full name was Thesselonious, a name of which he greatly despised, and rightfully so. He never knew whether he was named this due to some deep religious values or as some kind of joke. He hadn’t had a chance to ask his mother since his father (you’ll notice I didn’t say her husband) was convinced that she was going to sell her soul to the devil and shot her as a way of saving her. He then decided to turn the gun around and save himself.
He sat in the car trying to remember the exact time he was supposed to pick Dave up since he had a bad memory for things like that. He had been given one too many doses of shock therapy resulting in a bad memory and an all around dull personality. Despite this he was a well respected man of his trade.
Finally Dave ran out the door. Theo quickly made room for him, having to shift some junk around. He went to put some of it in the trunk and looked around to make sure there weren’t any witnesses to the content of the trunk. The contents of the trunk were his weapons of choice, in this case a ballistic knife. It was an older Soviet weapon that was essentially a knife with a detachable handle that was hooked up to a gas driven mechanism to shoot the blade.
Dave got in the car and they were off. At first glance you almost couldn’t tell Dave was 18, but maybe still 15.
“So,” Theo said in an attempt to break the ice on this awkward occasion, “You ready for today you think?”
“I don’t quite know,” Dave replied after a short pause to consider the question.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Theo said with some confidence, “we all get a little nervous the first day, but you get used to it after a while.”
“I am just not sure it is something I want to get used to you know?”
“Well, that will pass. By this time next week you will be a one man slaughterhouse.”
These words didn’t seem to comfort Dave, and in fact worried him even more. He didn’t want to change his current mental state. He stared at the dashboard and noticed an ant crawling on it.
“Why couldn’t you have taken me on the Trial Run?” asked Dave.
Theo considered the question for a minute as though he didn’t know himself. Finally that bad memory of his kicked in and reminded him.
“I have some other work to do today. Besides, you will be glad you are working with this guy. He is the best there is at this sort of stuff. Not exactly a people person, but good at his job.”
He looked over at Dave who was still staring at the dashboard with dissatisfaction. It was obvious he didn’t want to go through with this, but he didn’t have any choice in the matter. His father was in the business and it was time for him to learn.
Dave had hardly noticed they were stopped in front of the coffee shop now.
“Well,” said Theo, “here we are.”
Dave didn’t say anything, or even look up. Maybe he thought if he stood still Theo might just forget he is there. Eventually he acknowledged the statement.
“I guess so,” Dave said.
He pushed up against the door as if it took all his weight to open the door.
“Well, this is it” Dave said before he left, “I guess I will call you later.”
“All right, go nuts.”

He stood there even after the car had driven off. Standing there, thinking if there was a way out of this. He went through all possible plans for escaping when he came to the conclusion that there was no way out. He turned around and faced the building. It found its little nook between a big wall separating it from a bowling alley and “Ed Gein Furniture.” He entered the coffee house which was partially empty except for a wall of people with their laptops on their tables. They just sat there like clones sharing the same action of staring at the screen, sipping their coffee, and occasionally typing a sentence in something that no on will read. They even shared the same drink: Large, vanilla flavoring mixed with a latte which they only drank in little sips until it got cold and ended up pouring the rest out which was timed perfectly with when they had to leave.
Dave walked up to the counter which covered with jars of bagels and tea boxes that said “Bates Tea – Mother Approved.” He ordered a hot chocolate and waited at a table for the drink to finish. He wondered when this Tyler was going to show up, what he would be like. He started to get nervous again and bumped his knee to take his mind off it. He then noticed an ant on his leg and flicked it off.
Of course the ant wasn’t real. Dave would often hallucinate when he was nervous as if instead of sweating he would merely expel ants. The more nervous he got the more ants that he would see. It had been that way since he was a kid, but he never told anyone. It was at that moment that he heard a bell ring and the door open.
A man walked in and went up to the cashier.
“What will you have?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” the man replied, “I will have to check my finances.”
He opened his wallet up and looked surprised.
“Wow,” he said still staring at the wallet.
“What?” the cashier asked.
“Ah, nothing. You ever had more money then you thought you did?”
“I wish.”
“Well, I’ll have a vanilla flavored latte please. Large.”
He then turned around and noticed Dave sitting by himself staring at him. The man immediately went up to him and said “Are you Dave?”

Tyler had driven up to the coffee shop and waited in his car for a minute observing this strange kid who was just standing in front of the store. Eventually the kid went inside, and the show was over. He got out of his car and looked at his surroundings with a dead expression.
He didn’t look like a killer. In fact he was somewhat thin and lacking in muscle. He was very tall though, and had short black hair with a grey patch on the back of his head. His arms had several scars that he couldn’t remember how he got which he kept concealed under his jacket. Other then that he seemed like a normal person, as long as you didn’t talk to him.
He pulled the card out of his wallet and confirmed the address. A man sitting noticed him put his wallet in his left pocket. He then nonchalantly got up from his table and “accidentally” bumped into Tyler, relieving him of his wallet in the process. The man continued to walk down past the wall that separated the little strip form the bowling alley. Once he got there he made sure he was alone and decided to look at how much he got off his victim. There was no form of identification or any cards for that matter: just twenty-five dollars. He pulled the money out and went to put it in his personally wallet where he kept all of the money he collected. He reached in his pocket to find it vacant of any wallet.
It just so happened that Tyler had noticed the man look at him put his wallet in his pocket and recognized the actions to follow as definite signs of a pickpocket. Instead of making a big fuss over it he decided to do an exchange since he knew that the pickpocket would have more money than him so he thought it the wiser course.
He entered the shop which was announced by a bell. He looked around at all the people in the shop. They were all drinking the same thing, which was evident by the labels neatly printed on their cups. He had never had a vanilla flavored latte before so he decided to try one. He went up to the counter about to discover how much money he had nicked. He opened it up to find 250 dollars in the wallet, and a surprised expression on his face.
He got around to ordering and turned around to see if Dave had shown up. He then was distracted by this kid flicking his knee even though there was nothing there. He then recognized two things: This was the same kid he has seen standing in the parking lot, and it was Dave. He was pretty sure it was him since he saw a picture of him, but he wasn’t positive so he decided to ask.

Tyler finally discovered this was the kid. He was slightly disappointed to discover this, but he had to act pleasant. He sat down at the table and tried to think of what to say. He wasn’t very good at speaking to people since most of the people he talked to didn’t live past five minutes.
“So…” he started, “you are Dave, huh”
Dave didn’t know what to say since this had already been established.
“Yes,” Dave finally said, “I am.”
Now what thought Tyler.
“You look more like a Cameron to me,” he said.
“Isn’t that a girl’s name?”
“I think it goes both ways.”
Awkward silence.
Finally the barista walked up with both of their drinks.
“Here you go” she said, placing the drinks on the table.
Neither of them reached for their drinks.
“So do you guy’s work at the same place?” she asked.
Tyler was caught off guard.
“Why?” he asked back.
“You are both wearing the same thing.”
Tyler hadn’t even noticed that were both wearing black suits.
“Oh,” he said, pretending it was intentional, “yeah.”
“What do you do?”
“We are…comedians.”
“Oh yeah, got any good jokes?”
Man she asks a lot of a questions.
Tyler thought for a minute and then produced from his pocket one of those novelty chattering teeth and laid it on the table. It clattered for about a minute when Tyler looked up at the barista.
“Get it?” he said.

They exited the coffee shop, drinks in hand, and headed for the car. It was a small black car which was surprisingly clean. Dave noticed that the car didn’t have plates.
“How do you get away with not having plates?” Dave asked.
“Get a car and I’ll tell you,” he replied.
Once they got in Dave saw that the stereo was removed.
“Someone steal you stereo?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“What happened to it?”
Another person who asks a lot of questions.
“I think we should talk business first,” said Tyler in his most polite tone.
“Like what?”
“Well, first some rules. There are a lot of subtleties to the job.” Tyler started to click his bottom lip while he thought of what to say.
“For one thing,” he continued, “wear all black. This way blood won’t show as much.”
Tyler looked Dave over quickly.
“I see you are one step ahead” he continued, “good for you. Next, no identification of any kind. If you get caught it is best they don’t know who you are. Also, no keys, or chains, or anything that can make noise. Very rarely do we have to sneak up on somebody but if duty calls for it then you don’t want to have anything to tip the guy off. Also, since you are a beginner I don’t recommend a knife or anything that requires close combat. The more distance you, have the better. Oh, and finger prints. Now some like to wear gloves, but I find it interferes with the trigger. You could burn the tips of your fingers, or cut them off with a razor blade. If those are too much for you then wrap them in a special tape we have. Personally, I just don’t touch anything.”
Tyler grabbed his drink and took a big gulp and struggled to utter the next sentence.
“Also,” he then coughed and proceeded with the next tidbit of advice, “I recommend short hair. This is to prevent being scalped. Believe me, it is no way to go. There are three ways to die from this: One, you die of the shock of having your scalp yanked off. Two, you could die of blood loss from having your scalp yanked off. Or, finally, you could die of an infection that you have a 90 percent chance of getting…from having your scalp yanked off. Well, that is about all you need to know now.”
He decided to reward himself with a sip of his drink after that eloquent speech. Dave wasn’t left with much enthusiasm after the speech, however. He just sat there quietly and flicked an ant off his leg.

They pulled up in front of this building that was somewhat secluded, only accompanied by some abandoned buildings near a quiet section of the otherwise busy city. Its clean windows and neatly painted façade made it look strange between the coarse buildings it found itself adjoined to. Fortunately no one was around to notice this peculiar set up.
Upon closer examination Dave noticed that the left building was once “Dr. Yokomoto’s Gynecological Clinic,” an office of malpractice, backward working where the doctor used to untwine his rusty wire coat hanger for abortions on the cheap. “Here is a bottle of pain killers” he would tell his patients “it usually only takes me five to feel the effects.” On the right was an old magic shop. This street was a congress of con artists.
“This is the office” Tyler stated getting out of the car, “I am sure you know the people here and what they do so I don’t have to go over that with you.”
“Actually,” Dave started to say hesitantly since he could tell Tyler didn’t like having to explain things, “I don’t really know anyone here.”

Chapter 3


His ignorance was not of his own doing, nor of his fathers. His mother didn’t want him being associated with people of such questionable character, and never let him know what his father did. Now she is dead and Dave is 18.
“Well,” Tyler said followed by a sigh, “I guess I might as well explain that to you.”
They walked in door which made a loud grating sound as it opened. This was intentional. No one entered without someone knowing. As they entered there was an elderly man, around seventy years old just sitting and staring.
“This is Ian McMurphy,” Tyler said just walking past the man as if he was just an exhibit at a museum.
Dave knew why since he had heard of the man. He spent twenty-five years in prison for killing a man, and spent a good amount of that time in solitary confinement (this was because the prison had strong ties to a rival gang who made it their duty to make his time long and uncomfortable.) He spent so much time not talking that he got out of the practice of it and eventually forgot how to speak. Not only that, but before his rather unfortunate imprisonment he had a thick Scottish accent so you couldn’t really understand what he said even when he could speak. Add that to the many years of not talking and I would just as soon give up on speaking myself.
Past his post the rest of the building looked like an auto shop mixed with an office. There was a break room, bathrooms, coffee and donuts. This is why Dave’s father got where he was. He ran a smooth operation and he kept things moving smoothly by making it seem like a legitimate business. To be honest you could hardly tell there was criminal activity taking place. Even the people who committed the crimes didn’t feel like they were criminals. They were just business men doing what business men do: Performing a service in exchange for money. No reason for it to weigh on their conscious anymore then that.
They entered the main room which was a bit like a waiting room where the men sat around waiting for a job to go on. One of the people there usually waited more so then others.
“This is Roger” Tyler said as a way of introductory, “our auto mechanic.”
An auto mechanic was important in an operation like this. If a car gets shot up, or even just damaged it is not good to take it in just any shop for fixing. This wasn’t often, but it was better to be prepared. He was usually a happy man unless he was working, which happened to be the case this particular day. It’s not that he hated working, but he hated people just watching him work and commenting and asking him questions. He was working on a window that had been shot and was re-tinting it.
“So,” said an interested observer, “the tint goes on the inside of the window, huh?”
Roger tried to hide his anger under a sigh he slowly released.
“Yeah,” he replied, “who would a thought.”
The room had about two other personnel that Tyler didn’t feel the need to introduce. There was however one man seated that he decided deserved his attention.
“This here is Johnny Elk. He is as good as they come.”
Mr. Elk smiled but didn’t get up from his chair. Dave noticed he was wearing thick work gloves that had been worn down a bit near the palms. Tyler said he would explain later. Dave wondered what that meant.
They went into the break room with all of the microwaves, coffee machines, refrigerators, and things of that nature. Two men were in the room: One doing all of the talking and one forced into the position of listener.
“The one talking” Tyler whispered to Dave “is Joe. He is a closet bigot. He will usually justify his racist comments by saying stuff like ‘its ok, I know a black guy’ or ‘I am part Jewish.’”
Tyler seemed to dislike the man for reasons that are all too obvious. He was a self absorbed man who dominated every conversation he ever invited himself into. The man doing the listening, or at least pretending to listen, was eating with surgical equipment and seemed to avoid any physical contact.
There was a section in the wall that looked like a booth for selling tickets. It had a little speaker section to talk through and an area for handing papers through.
“Mr. Clarke is on the other end of that. That is where we get our orders. Speaking of which, I have to see the old man about a dog. Wait here.”
By that Tyler meant he had to see Stan Wexton. He knocked on the door next to the ticket booth.
“Vighdyeetyee” a voice yelled from inside.
Tyler entered and saw across the long dark room Mr. Wexton behind his metal desk looking like a prisoner of his accord.
“So,” Tyler yelled approaching the table “did I not get the memo that we are all Russian now?”
Stan laughed this off.
“Sorry” he said getting up from his desk, “I thought you were Karl. He had a dentist appointment today and I have been waiting for him to come back.”
Tyler didn’t know that Karl was that important. Then again he never really saw him much. Nobody did for that matter. He was usually waiting in the ticket booth, ears perked for the signal that he is needed. Once he hears his name called he enters the room. There Stan usually tells him to right down the facts of the next job and gives it to the man in the booth.
“Sorry to disappoint you there captain” Tyler said jokingly.
“Oh come on, I am never disappointed with you. How is my boy doing?”
“Oh, he’s just….fantastic.”
“I know he isn’t exactly right for this job, but that is why I wanted you to work with him. And I just got some information for your first job with him. Easy job, guy is already tied up, just show him how easy it is.”
“Where is he?”
“At one of our legit offices. Been stealing from us for a while now and we just got the heads up. Specifics at the booth. Also, there is a secretary there. She is a bit shaken up. Give her the talk. Sound good?”
“Sure captain. The rest of the building cleared?”
“Yeah, hardly anyone on that floor.”
“Alright, I guess I better hit the ‘phalt.”
Tyler usually wasn’t this relaxed talking to people, but he and Stan seemed to get along well enough that he could act semi normal. Now it was back to the world, out of the sanctuary of this office.
He slowly walked out of the room savoring every moment of security he could when he was out. Dave was standing there looking at a Wall of Voodoo poster that must have been on the wall since 1981.
“Alright, let’s hit the locker.”
As if there wasn’t enough in the office they also had a locker room for storing identification, keys, all of the things Tyler had warned about. There was also a change of clothes, just in case. It looked like something out of a Terry Gilliam film. The benches were stuck to the ground with a mixture of rust, mold, and god knows what else that had built up over the years. The once blue lockers had faded over the years, with brown rusty veins strangling what color is left. The corners of the wall looked like old decaying skin with unsightly blemishes that would fall off if anyone cared enough to even touch them.
Dave had his own locker which when opened revealed years of past ownership: Centerfold clippings of men with their crotches ripped off and pasted over with pictures of fruits. Old cigarette cartons filled with dead bugs. Condoms filled with ketchup. He placed his wallet and keys in the center so as not to be contaminated by these things.
Tyler’s locker was filled with books, and they all shared the same subject: Drugs. Text books, journals, memoirs, anything on the subject. Neuropsychopharmacology was a hobby for Tyler. He found it interesting because you could read fifty-thousand books on the subject and never understand unless you personally experienced it. They were all in perfect shape, no bends, rips, anything, like he had never even read them. He closed his locker very gently.
Now they were off to the first kill…

Chapter 4


The wheels sounded like knuckles cracking against the rocky asphalt. The office building in question was 6 stories high. Only one area was really occupied by Mr. Wexton, just enough to make him look legitimate should the need arise. Tyler went into his trunk which was neatly organized into a golf bag, and a black bag, the latter of which he took.
They got to the office they needed and the secretary was behind the desk on the verge of crying when they entered. Tyler walked up to her with his always dead expression.
“Are you Kate?” he asked.
She was still staring at nothing as if the question hadn’t reached her ears yet, and then all of the sudden it had hit her.
“Yes.”
“Alright. You know why we are here, am I correct?”
A loud whimper burst from her mouth as if this were a personal attack.
“Yes.”
“You don’t need to cry.”
“I am scared.”
“I know” said Tyler as if he was anticipating her saying that, “everyone is. Look, this is nothing to do with you. This was going to happen to him no matter what, whether it was now or ten days from now.”
He pulled some money out of his pocket.
“Here, go down stairs, calm down. When you are feeling better grab a bite to eat and take the day off. By Monday this will all be history and you will never have to think of it again.”
It was strange hearing Tyler speak so consolingly and it seemed so natural. He of course had been in this situation before. Tyler placed the money in her hand which lay there loosely and she slowly left the room. Tyler started for the door to the counsel room.

The door opened. The room was made entirely out of concrete. Right in the center the man sat, strapped to the chair with duct tape that had been applied liberally around his waist and arms in a great haste. The man looked like he was sleeping with his head slouched over.
“Wake up Mr. Davis.”
Nothing. Tyler picked up a water bottle that was sitting on the table next to him. At first Dave thought he would just splash some water on him, but instead he threw it right at his head. This produced a loud scream from the man.
“Well” Tyler started “looks like Dorothy’s back in Kansas.”
Dave just stood at the door, staring, scratching his arm where an ant had just bitten him. Tyler threw the black bag on the table and knelt in front of the man seated.
“Look” Davis started stuttering, his words piling up “I don’t know what you guys want. I don’t know why I am here.”
“I think you do.”
“Well I don’t. I mean it; they just locked me in here for no reason.”
“How about this: I am going to kill you, but I won’t kill you if you can tell me WHY I am going to kill you. How about that?”
The man pondered this for a minute staring straight at Tyler.
“Be-“the man started to say, still stuttering “because I-ah-I stole.”
“So you admit it!” shouted Tyler.
“Now you said you weren’t going to do anything.”
“Yeah, and you were stupid enough to believe me.”
The man didn’t know how to respond. Tyler took this opportunity to go through he bag.
“You ever play Russian Roulette?” Tyler asked. This left the man more confused as he stared at Tyler’s back which was obscuring his actions.
“You see the objective is to load a six shooter with one live cartridge, spin the barrel and pull the trigger and hope to god you don’t get the bullet. At these odds you have a 17 percent chance, that is 17 percent more then zero for perspective, of losing. However…”
He finally turned around and revealed a large shotgun that he had been assembling.
“If you were to take that same one cartridge odd and instead have it be in a shotgun” this he demonstrated by loading the shotgun “you up your odds to around, and this is a rough estimate, 100 percent. That is 83 percent more then 17.”
He observed the man’s expression, one of terror I might add, and then decided to continue his little speech that he must have given hundreds of times.
“However, you don’t have to worry about that.”
He put the shotgun back and pulled out a six shooter.
“You just have to worry about that 17 percent chance. But you know what? I get bored easily, so let’s fill the rest with blank cartridges, just to spice things up.”
He then loaded everything up: Five blanks and one live. He gave it a nice big spin, and took aim. The man seemed nervous, but not enough to talk. Tyler then fired a blank round off which made a loud noise that clearly had an effect on the man. Still, this was not enough to break his integrity. Tyler fired off two shots in a row which the man wasn’t expecting. This got him yelling.
“Look!” the man yelled “I don’t know who the others are!”
Tyler was surprised. The man realized he had slipped.
“Others?” Tyler said, this time in a softer tone “Define others.”
The man didn’t respond. Tyler responded to this unresponsiveness with another round which happened to be a live one that grazed that mans arm.
“Well shucks gosh darnit” Tyler said mockingly “I thought it was father down then that. Of course if you care to divulge some information then I might postpone our little game.”
Nothing.
“Alright. Again!”
Tyler at this point knew there was no more this man would say, so he decided to end the game. Dave wasn’t aware of this; he thought it would go on longer. Dave looked away since he didn’t like the show Tyler was putting on and then heard the live round and looked back. A confetti effect had been made on the wall and Tyler was loading his bag. Dave knew what this meant and decided not to look any further. Dave didn’t say a word to Tyler the whole way down. He was just in shock. He didn’t understand how someone could do a thing like that. 
Tyler knew that Dave felt this way and when they got in the car he was sure he knew what he needed.
“You need a nice big hamburger and some fries.”

Chapter 5


They went inside a burger joint and Tyler ordered while Dave sat in the booth just thinking. Eventually the image he saw seemed less and less disturbing as he thought about it more, but it was still enough to leave him in a near catatonic state.  Tyler slammed the tray in front of him. The food was on top of a paper mat with pictures of different people on it to prove that others ate this food and that it was okay.
Tyler didn’t eat anything; he just took the paper mat and started writing underneath the people. He first picked out a large bald man with a mustache and wrote “I see my kids once a month.” He continued down the list of people. Picked out a thin woman and wrote “My boyfriend beats me because he loves me.” Underneath a college kid he wrote “My dad won’t talk to me since I came out of the closet.” A middle aged woman “I self medicate.”
Eventually he looked up from his art and screamed “Good god!”
“What?” Dave said in shock.
“Oh…nothing. I just thought that guy over there had six fingers.”
Dave just stared, and finally asked the question on his mind.
“Have you considered the possibility you are insane?”
“No, but my psychiatrist has. You know I think I forgot ketchup. Want some?”
Dave didn’t reply he just stared. He didn’t want to eat. Tyler picked up his queue and they left. By the time they got to the office there was a new job.

Tyler and Dave walked in the office: Tyler looking normal and Dave obviously thinking hard about something that he had hardly seen. All of the guys got up and went over to shake the kid’s hand.
“Well, you look like crap kid” said one jokingly.
“Look at you go kid. You are on your way” said another.
They all seemed very jovial about the matter which almost made Dave feel worse about it. He just sat and stared and everyone went back to their seats as if they didn’t notice the kid was upset about anything.
Tyler went into Stan’s office. Out of all the men there he was the only one who really went and talked to Stan. All the others just got their jobs at the booth. He walked in to see two people: Stan and Karl.
“Well, looks like he survived the savage dentists” yelled Tyler. Stan laughed while Karl didn’t seem to get the joke.
“Yes, he is alive” Stan said getting up “he got here just a minute ago.”
“Bring any news for us?”
“No, but I just got something I need you to get on right away. A boy in a crummy hotel on 8th ave. and Extension. However you have to get him yourself, and I don’t want it just you and my boy so bring someone else with you, just in case he puts up a fight.”
“Can I take Johnny?”
“The Stump? Why not someone better.”
Tyler was the only on who never called Johnny Elk “The Stump” because he liked him too much. Everyone else did but they still weren’t sure about using him.
“I prefer him” Tyler replied “he is good.”
“Alright,” Stan said, although he didn’t carry much confidence in his voice “specifics at the booth.” He redirected himself to Karl and handed him a paper. “There, give that to the booth.”
Tyler started to head out but Stan said “One second. How is my boy doing?”
“Sick to his stomach. I am not sure he can handle it, but the day is still young.”
“Alright. Well, make sure you and The Stump take care of him.”
“Will do captain.”
Tyler got the specifics at the booth and informed Johnny that he would partner with him. Dave was sitting when Johnny got up and went over with them. Now Dave knew what Tyler meant when he said he would explain later.

What needed explaining about Johnny was that he was a good man, and half of a man. I don’t mean he was just missing his legs; he was literally missing his body from the bellybutton down. When he was born his lower half just shriveled up. He walked on his hands, that is why he had such thick gloves on. His pants were tied in a knot on the bottom the way whores tie their shirts in knots on Van Buren Street.
Tyler met him at a show. Johnny had a twin brother who had a lower half and would do a show where he was “randomly picked from the audience” and “sawed in half.” Then they had a midget in a pair of pants who would run around and Johnny got on his hands and chased them. Most people were scared so bad they had to have medics near by in case of a heart attack.
His physical stature is what earned him the handle “The Stump.” Johnny didn’t mind it, but still Tyler didn’t call him that out of respect.  They got in the car and Johnny insisted on sitting in the back. Despite being a killer he had impeccable manners. 
In the car Johnny swapped his gloves, storing them in his right pocket and pulling out a different pair from his left. He had different pairs for different occasions. Dave tried to figure out what gloves merited what situations, but could not make out any distinguishable differences.
They got on the street that the hotel found itself situated. It was a hotel amidst motels that charged by the hour. Parking lots filled with old beat up cars that made a chorus of noises and purple low riders with naked females on the flaps. Its swimming pools stained green by lack of maintenance.
Tyler went to the trunk and decided that the golf bag was necessary to bring on this little venture. They entered the hotel and walked down the long halls.
Almost all of the doors were open. These people weren’t on a vacation, this was their home. They looked like the people Tyler had described on the paper mat. Women with black eyes, fat lips, and arms decorated with needle holes who loved their man the more he beat them in some kind of reverse psychology. Dope babies crying. Kids standing at the doors with their pale translucent skin revealing their dark blue veins trying to escape into their arms. Their bodies covered in huge muscles without any strength, their skin without bone. Results of a drug induced episode of temporary nymphomania. A random transvestite walked past them crying and screaming, his mascara making avenues on his face, cascading with his ruby red lip stick and fake moles.
It was hard to hear past all of the loud music playing and the TVs trying to combat this resulting in loud Spanish voices screaming with the high pitch buzzes of the screens.
“Stay here and wait for us” Tyler told Johnny “and make sure no one comes to hassle us. I don’t think much will happen though.”
“Right-e-o.”
Dave and Tyler went down the hall a bit more to a cheaply made door that you could break down with your pinky. Tyler produced a machine gun from his long coat and kicked the door down without even warning Dave. They both jumped in no more than a couple of feet. The man inside was standing and looked right at Tyler. Tyler decided to skip the show and immediately showered the man in a tapestry of bullets. Tyler looked over at Dave who was at his left and was about to say something when he just froze. Dave didn’t know why he was looking at him like that. Tyler kept his eyes in the same spot and said “Dave, run back towards Johnny, fast.”
Dave didn’t understand. He finally turned over to see what he was looking at when he understood. The ants didn’t even have time to show up.
There were around twenty or so guys against the wall with machine guns just staring at what had just happened. They must have been waiting there for them to show up. As Dave started to slowly walk backwards one of the black kids in the middle started to reach for something. Tyler didn’t want to wait to find out what it was and shot him in the hand and he and Dave both started running down the hall. Johnny was at the end with the golf bag. Everyone else who had occupied the hall had gone inside and closed the doors.
“Johnny!” Tyler yelled “golf bag!”
Johnny tossed the bag over and Tyler slung it over his shoulder. Johnny noticed the barrage of people behind him and started to run on his hands. Tyler started to catch up with him and grabbed his hand and picked him up like a backpack. Johnny grabbed on his back, pulled out a gun, and started firing back at the people.
They turned a corner and chose that time to stop. Dave wanted to keep on running but Tyler and John thought differently. They grabbed the golf bag and pulled some clubs out and then pulled out what they really wanted. Apparently Tyler kept a large turret in the bag with a long round of bullets. Johnny fed the bullets and Tyler aimed. Eventually the gang following them turned the corner and were surprised to find an old military turret firing at them by a half man and another man with golf clubs. They ran back to get out of the line of fire.
“Kid!” yelled Tyler over the firing “kick one of the doors down!”
Dave didn’t even wait he just chose a door and kicked. Tyler picked up the turret and golf bag and they went in the room. Fortunately there was no one in there at the time. They went through the fire escape and ran down to the car. The gang didn’t seem to want to follow them after the discovery of their turret.
Now Dave was in the back seat as they speed off.