Charlie Huston - A Dangerous Man

And Branko will be standing there.

And before I can say or do anything, Branko will do something to me, and I will die.

And I can live with that. So to speak.

Because 4 million dollars is not enough to buy my life at this point. But it is certainly enough for David to stick on a scale against the hassle of killing my folks after I am already dead. It’s enough to count on as a guarantee that he’ll take care of Adam and Martin.

At least it seems that way to me.

Having no other choice and all.

I HANG UP and walk back over to Jay. Miguel is by the curb with the bartender. She’s climbing into a cab. I hand Jay his phone. And with nothing to lose, I can afford to do the right thing for a change.

– Sure. I can talk to Miguel. I can tell him to stay away from David. Want me to do that now?

Jay takes his phone and stands up. He looks over at Miguel trying to get in the cab with the bartender. She pushes him out, the door slams, and the cab drives away.

– Better wait, yo. Hit him when he’s sober. Tomorrow after the game maybe.

I think about my plans for the next morning.

– That might not work out.

– Nice one, Jay.

Miguel is walking toward us.

– Good plan, taking a break and all. Way to keep the party going.

Jay waves him off and turns back to me.

His eyes open wide.

They’re looking over my shoulder.

– What the fuck, yo?

I drop.

The sap ruffles my hair.

Jay leaps over me.

I hear the sound of two bodies colliding. Stumbling feet. Flesh hitting stone. I flip onto my back. I can see Jay tangled up with Martin on the cobbles. Martin rolling on top of Jay. I start to get up. Adam kicks me in the ribs.

Martin is hurting Jay.

I start to get up.

Adam kicks me in the ribs.

Pain spears my left side. I gasp. I try to get up. The pain shoots deeper. Martin is sitting on Jay’s chest, pinning him to the ground, whipping the sap back and forth, shattering his young face.

Adam grabs me by the collar and starts dragging me toward the bus.

Miguel smashes into his back and they slam down to the pavement.

Martin is standing up. Jay isn’t moving.

Miguel doesn’t know how to fight. I can see from here that he doesn’t know how to fight at all. But he’s just so strong he’s crushing Adam into the concrete. Martin is walking toward them, sap raised. Adam has stopped resisting Miguel. I’m on my hands and knees. I see Adam’s hand slipping into the pocket where he carries his knife. I start to crawl.

– Miguel! Mike! Mike!

His head comes up. The knife comes out of the pocket. I fling myself forward and catch Adam’s wrist as the blade flicks open. Martin’s sap smashes down on the back of Miguel’s neck and he sprawls on top of Adam, jarring his arm, and I twist the knife free.

Martin grabs my hair and jerks my head back and forth.

– Tetka Anna! Tetka Anna! Tetka Anna!

Adam is heaving Miguel’s bulk off of him.

– Martin!

I aim for the center of Martin’s foot, miss, and jam the blade down into his toes. Blood squirts out of the cut in his Pumas. He brings his foot up, yanking it free and tearing the knife from my hands. It flips through the air and clatters back down. Martin hops a couple times and stumbles over Miguel, falling on top of him just as Adam squirms free.

I look for the knife. It’s lost in the darkness. But Adam is crawling after something. I crawl after him. I grab his ankle and pull. Pain worms through my rib cage. I yank Adam’s right leg out from underneath him and he balances on his left leg and his arms and looks back at me, kicking and jerking, trying to rip free. I clutch his leg with both hands. He gives up on the knife and tries to turn himself around, coming back at me.

Martin is getting up. He stands, his right foot planted, his left raised gingerly, blood leaking from his shoe. He looks at the ground, bends, picks up his sap, and looks at me.

Adam flips himself onto his back and kicks me in the forehead with his left foot. I let go with one hand and feel at the cobbles, my fingers dig in around a loose stone and pull it free.

Martin is hopping toward me.

Adam’s left foot tags me on the ear. I heave my weight on top of his right leg and pin it. I raise the cobblestone and smash it down on his ankle. He screams and stops kicking me. I bring the stone down again and feel the bone give beneath it. He screams again. I hammer him once more. He doesn’t scream this time.

I let go of the leg and roll onto my back, the stone in my hand. I feint a throw at Martin’s leaking foot. The memory of the balls I fired into him at Coney pops up in his eyes. He flinches. I throw the cobblestone at his good knee. He’s back on the ground.

I take off my shoe.

I stand up.

Hunched over the pain in my ribs, I walk to where Martin is trying to figure out the best way to stand up on his mutilated foot and his cracked kneecap. He looks up at me. I hit his face with the shoe. I keep hitting him until I’m sure he gets the point. He collapses, blood and snot leaking from his nose.

Adam has pulled his leg up close to his body, his foot dangling from the pancaked ankle. One of his hands is scampering over the ground, feeling for his lost knife. I take a couple steps, bend, and pick up the knife.

I point at the ankle.

– Can you walk on that?

– No.

I put out my hand. He takes it. I pull, wincing at the pain in my ribs.

– Come on.

He leans on me, hopping on his good leg as I lead him over to the railing.

– Wait here.

He slumps against the rail, digs a cigarette out of his pocket and lights up.

I walk over to Martin. He’s out. I look at Jay. His face is cracked and swelling. Bubbles of blood inflate and pop between his lips. Miguel shifts. He groans and puts a hand to the back of his neck. His eyes open.

– What the. What the fuck, man?

– Jay’s hurt.

– Huh?

– Jay’s hurt.

– Where? What?

He sits up too fast and his eyes spin. He starts to go back down. I kneel. A new and different pain in my ribs. I hold him up until he stops spinning.

– OK?

– Yeah. Yeah. OK.

I point his face toward Jay.

– You see.

– Oh fuck. Oh shit.

– Can you stand now?

He stands.

– Get Jay in the bus.

– Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh, Jay.

He walks over to his friend, squats, slips his arms under him, and easily lifts him off the ground. He carries him toward the bus. I look at Martin. I still have the shoe in my hand. I tuck it into my armpit, bend over and grab Martin under his arms and drag him toward his brother. Miguel sticks his head out of the bus.

– He’s in. Should I call 911?

– Just wait in there. Put a towel on his face or something.

He disappears back inside the shuttered bus.

I get Martin to the rail. Adam reaches out and helps me pull him up and lean him there. His hands open and close a couple times and his puffed eyes open to slits. He grabs at the rail and holds himself up, but there’s nobody home yet.

I move my arm. The shoe drops out of my armpit to the ground. I push my white-socked foot back inside, not taking my eyes from Adam, his knife still in my hand.

– You been following them since you lost me?

Adam chains a fresh smoke, blood from his fingers smears the filter.

– No. We went home. Tetka Anna. There were things broken in the house. She was gone.

– Uh-huh.

– David.

– Uh-huh.

– Martin wanted to go there. To get her.

– Uh-huh.

– But they would have killed us. I thought you. David will want you. You tried to kill him.

– Yeah. He does.

– We followed your friends.

– You followed these guys, came looking for me?