Ryan Jahn - The Last Tomorrow

Unfortunately, he believes he made it worse for Eugene rather than better. He believes he might even have sent him to his death.

That is, unless someone stops it, and he doesn’t even know if that’s possible at this point. The situation’s a mess.

In addition to everything else that’s happening, maybe even because of everything else that’s happening — there’s no better time than in the midst of confusion to attempt such a thing — Louis Lynch is planning to eliminate the Man and take over his organization. He believes so, anyway.

Up until six years ago everybody with an opinion on the matter believed Lou would end up running it anyway, but when Evelyn Manning turned twenty-one she began working for her father, learning how things operated, preparing to take over herself once her father retired. That didn’t sit well with Lou. He wasn’t going to take orders from a woman. He wasn’t going to take orders from anybody. He’d worked for the Man for twenty years, helped to build an underground empire, and he was its rightful inheritor. For six years he’s been growing increasingly unhappy, and now it looks like he’s using this time on the West Coast to seize the organization and bury anyone who might stand in his way.

Two days ago Lou came to him and asked if he had access to a warehouse. He needed an isolated place where loud noises wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. He said he knew about a place in Vernon that a real-estate investor used as a tax loss. He said he could have the keys in Lou’s hand within an hour. Lou said that sounded fine, so he took care of it.

Next thing he knows Evelyn Manning’s been kidnapped, and rumor has it the Man has flown to the West Coast to get her back. He thinks Lou is trying to lure his boss to the warehouse in order to kill him. He thinks Evelyn Manning might already be dead. He thinks it’s all happening today.

And he thinks Eugene is walking into the middle of it.

He met with Eugene yesterday morning, just before getting picked up by the cops, tried once more to give him money and talk him into leaving the country, but he refused. He said he had to find evidence that would prove his innocence. He said he couldn’t live the rest of his life on the lam. The last couple days had been the worst days of his life and he couldn’t live this way for years. He’d rather died than live this way.

The desperation in Eugene’s voice got to him. He told his friend about the warehouse. He told him he might find evidence there. He also told him not to go, told him it was far too dangerous. But first he told him where it was.

And he’s afraid he sent him to his death.

He shakes his head and looks down at his hands. He hopes he’s done the right thing, but is almost certain he hasn’t.

The detective leans forward and asks him, where’s this warehouse at?

Fingers tells him.

11

The police search Louis Lynch’s hotel room.

12

Eugene takes one last swig from his bottle of whiskey, wipes it down with a rag, sets it on a stack of pallets. He slips his hands into a pair of gloves and picks up Evelyn’s Berretta, wiping his prints from that as well before gripping it for use in his gloved fist. He looks at the trailer parked at dock number three.

He works himself up, breathing heavily, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He can do this. He can do this. He has to do this, so he can.

He tries to envision the scene the police must come upon. He plays it out in his mind. He nods. There are holes. It isn’t perfect. But it’s all he’s got, so it’ll have to do. If the police don’t buy it immediately, he’s finished. If they do buy it, he might be okay. They can’t look too close, that’s all.

It’s the small details that kill an illusion.

Don’t worry about that. It’s too late to worry about that. It’s time to get on with it. The time for thinking is finished, the time for doing has arrived. Time to get on with it.

He walks to the trailer and grabs the handle.

13

Lou stands in the trailer with his hands raised. He faces the open doors, looking to the milkman on the other side. The milkman stands with a gun in his hand, stands as if rooted to the ground. The gun is aimed at Lou’s face and his eyes are alive with terror and determination. He means to kill Lou. Whether he’ll be able to do it is an open question, but it’s clear from his eyes that he means to do it and no maybes.

He tells Lou to step from the trailer. His voice is shaky with emotion.

Lou walks slowly toward him, thinking about the Colt Vest Pocket in its custom holster. Nothing up my sleeve but six doses of death. He thinks about punching a hole in the milkman’s forehead. He steps from the forgiving wood-paneled floor of the trailer, which bows with each step, to the hard concrete floor of the warehouse. He swallows.

‘Turn around.’

He turns around. He looks at Evelyn, who stands at the other end of the trailer with her hands raised. He smiles at her and winks; don’t worry, I’ll get us out of this.

‘Shut the trailer. Lock the doors.’

This is his opportunity, probably his only opportunity, so he’d better use it wisely. He’d better be fast and sure and do what needs to be done.

He reaches left and right, grabbing the trailer doors. He brings them together, closing Evelyn inside. He reaches up and swings the handle down, locking the doors. Then with his right hand he grabs for his left wrist, feels cool metal against his palm, thumbs away the holster’s snap.

A quick turn and he should have a shot. Hopefully he can get it off before the milkman even realizes he has a gun in his hand.

He pivots left.

14

Eugene watches Louis Lynch close the trailer doors and thinks about putting a bullet in his head. He needs it to look like Evelyn pulled the trigger. For this to work, it must look like Evelyn shot him from the trailer, where she was being held. Which means Eugene must shoot him from that direction. Which means he and Louis Lynch must trade positions.

He can’t believe he has to do this, can’t believe he’s been put in this position. When he finds spiders in his apartment he carries them outside rather than kill them, but he’s going to kill a man, and not in self-defense. He’s simply going to aim and pull his trigger. He’s going to shoot an unarmed man in the head. First he’ll shoot him in the leg, then he’ll shoot him in the head.

It has to look right.

Louis Lynch reaches up and grabs the handle and pulls it down, locking the trailer doors into place. Then he pauses and pivots left, turning quickly with something in his right hand. Light reflects off it. He has a gun in his hand. Eugene doesn’t know where it came from, but he has a gun in his hand.

Eugene drops to the concrete and pulls his trigger.

Then Louis Lynch’s gun fires.

Eugene doesn’t know if he’s been hit, he doesn’t feel any pain, but he knows Louis Lynch has been. Blood spreads on his shirt.

Eugene fires again, aiming for the face. A black dot appears above the right eyebrow and a door opens in the back-left side of his head, a flap of skin and hair hinging the bone as it dangles there, and the contents of his head splatter the white trailer doors behind him. He falls to his knees, then onto his side, and slowly rolls supine, his right arm flopping out. Then he stops moving and is completely still.

Eugene gets to his feet and examines himself. He’s not been shot.

He looks to the corpse on the concrete floor across from him. He killed a man. Louis Lynch did him a favor and made it self-defense but still he wants to be sick. He tells himself he can’t be sick, can’t vomit, because he doesn’t have time to clean it up, and it can’t be here when the police arrive. He leans down and rests his hands on his knees and stares at his feet. He tells himself he cannot be sick, goddamn it, get your shit together, Eugene.