A Tale of Two Gangsters:
A Church-Going Man
Around this time, things were quiet. The hustle and bustle of the big city had been subdued. It was late and very chilly, the temperature falling below forty with wind chill making it feel like it was in the high teens. The sky was clear tonight, a lovely night for a couple to sit inside in front of the television with hot chocolate and soup and watch reruns. Whatever silence around was broken by the sounds of crickets, soft waves formed by the blowing wind, and an occasional car driving down the road, which were little more than hotel patrons. Indeed, it was a peaceful night in Scacia City. However, in the alleys of the populous city of three million, dark things were stirring.
The ground around a dumpster was covered in black, putrid smelling liquid. It was greasy and looked flammable to some degree. A middle-aged coyote was lying in it on his back. He awoke in a frightened disorientation. "W-what? W-w-where am I? Where a-are m-my c-c-c-clothes?"
Normally he'd be in bed in his pajamas and white t-shirt hung loosely over his left shoulder. His slippers, which had a small hole in the right one because his dog loved to chew on them, covered his feet, keeping them warm and toasty to protect his bare feet from the cold, tiled floor. He'd be lying next to his wife, Shauna, the most beautiful woman in the world. He would hold the bronze Labrador mate by his side, her long golden hair slightly covering her face as she slept soundly. She would mumble in her sleep. He didn't know what she was about—her mumbling were different and decidedly random every other night—but he assumed she was dreaming about him all the time. Here, he had nothing of the sort. He was half naked in his boxers and no shirt, he was freezing cold in the black substance, his arms and legs were tired very securely with razor wire, and his stomach and head were killing him. He really needed to use the bathroom but, from what he could see, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.
He looked around him, turning his head back, forth, left, right, up, down and all around to search for a soul, for someone to help him. Nobody was there. He was surrounded by brick walls, a dumpster full of trash, and darkness. He didn't know at all how long he was here. It hadn't to have been long. He could still feel the steel cutting into his flesh. Someone clearly kidnapped him. He just knew it. But who? He was utterly lost for words. He felt a bit slack-jawed, too, like he had been punched really hard in the face. His face hurt and it was painful to move his jaws. Then again, that could have just been the cold. The wind was blowing particularly hard tonight. He hated living on the East Coast. It was so terrible. He never even liked the cold. Why did his wife insist they move here? Because she heard there was more work here. This was her reason and it was so typical of everyone who was struggling to find a decent job. She was just lazy and needed to apply herself. He had a job that paid particularly well. God forbid she one day find the same joy he did. He'd need her then. In fact, he certainly did need a savior right now. He felt like he was going to freeze to death. He yelled if anyone was there. He expected there to be since he knew women were very active in a city like this in these hours. Cold didn't deter such strong-willed femme fatales.
He got his wish at that moment. A small group of six people dressed in suits came walking in his direction. The coyote suddenly got a sinking feeling in his chest. All were wearing fedoras, so their faces were covered in black, but he recognized them instantly. The one in the middle was the third tallest of them all, feminine looking, yet struck the most paralyzing fear inside him. "Sorry it took me so long. Had to make another delivery."
He tried to say something to acknowledge them to save his skin, but his lips were sealed shut. At this point, he forgot whether it was the cold or fear holding him back now.
"What? Are you not happy to see me again?"
"Y-y-yes, Sakina..."
"You'd better be. You're out here in the cold, tied up and naked in front of a dumpster. I'd be pretty bummed out if someone forgot about me. Do you realize how pissed off I'd be? See, I'm an optimist. I believe there's a positive in every negative situation. If I was in your shoes, I'd be mad, but at the same time, I'd appreciate my life even more. I'd appreciate the little things. For example," she stopped for a moment and put her hand behind her back before continuing again, "I would certainly take into account all of the good things I have in my life. I've got two beautiful children, a wife that loves me, a two-story home, a car that works, and a job that pays well. The most important thing, though, is I can wake up in the morning. I can live and face another day with a kick in my step and a beat in my heart. I've got no guilt, no worries, no apprehensions. I've lived another day. Do you feel guilt, Banum?"
The coyote, gulping a mountain's worth of saliva down, was sweating. He shook his head almost in vain to prevent the beads from getting in and burning his eyes. "G-g-guilt?"
"Yes. Do you?"
"W-w-why w-would I h-have to feel g-guilty?"
"I guess I have to jog your memory. You're a grown man and I have to remind you of the simplest of things. You haven't the foggiest idea how pitiful you sound right now. You owe me about $20,000 in cash for a hit you wanted us to do. You wanted to put the 'X' in ex-wife because you claimed she was always trying to take the kids from you. If I recall, she even tried to bring you to court on a false alimony claim? That's pretty hefty. So in order to keep her from being a leech to you and your new wife, you wanted us to kill her for you."
"O-oh..."
"Did that help you?"
He nodded nervously, his brain forcefully jogged back to memory.
"So we did. And we came to you one week after the announcement that we did because we knew you had the money, but claimed you needed time to find it. So understanding a man needs time to his family and to himself, we decided to give you one week to come up with the money or else something bad would happen. We wouldn't say how bad or what, but something would definitely happen. And now time has expired, Banum. We don't have our money. Therefore, you must suffer the consequences," she said as a clicking sound went off, causing Banum's eyes to widen and his body to stiffen up, as if his nervous system wasn't responding enough due to the razor wire and chill making him writhe in more pain than he was already in. From behind her back, he saw her reveal a handgun from behind. From what he could make out, one of her men handed her a weapon. The cocking of the barrel was a deadly reminder of what would happen if you mess with the Mafia.
Banum was a church-going man. He had saintly values, believing in marriage and equal opportunity for everyone. He wore a cross around his neck every morning when he rose, every time he said a prayer, and every night before he went to bed. His wife wasn't a very strong religious woman, straddling that line between Christianity and Agnosticism. However, he still loved her and they went to church every Sunday. They both kept Bibles by their bedsides, but Banum kicked it up a notch by resting a crucifix on the front. He was not a priest. He knew he was unable to be because of his ineptitude in public speaking, but he loved pretending he was one with his wife and kids. He wanted desperately to pray, but all his efforts were supremely thwarted by the razor wire wrapped around his wrists.
He wasn't sure he could be saved now. He was seduced by the whim of the devil. He hired the Mafia, the most evil organization in the country, to murder his ex-wife. What kind of husband was he? What kind of father was he? He was filled with an unimaginable amount of shame. His crime was absolutely unforgivable. How could he have forgotten that she had a family? She had people who loved her, who cared for her. At one point in their marriage, he complimented her on her beautiful spirit and her lovely smile. God, those pearly whites! At that moment, he forgot who he was. He was nobody, a soulless husk, a monster of a man who deserved to die without even a proper burial. He wouldn't mind if they left him to die on the cold concrete, his body left to decompose here in this darkly alley. Nobody, not even God, would forgive him for allowing such a brutal series of events that lead to the intentional death of another person, another one of His children. They murdered her. He murdered her.
"Just kill me."
"Oh, I will. I was going to give you one last chance, but I figured that's just letting another one get away with murder and that's not going to happen," she said as she pointed the gun at Banum's sweaty, shaking forehead.
"No, you don't understand," he said, beginning to lament. "I've killed someone. I'm a marked man. For years, I've gone to church and celebrated the word of God. I love life more than anything in this world. God blessed me with the ability to empathize and feel the pain of people. I may not have felt the bullet that ended my ex's life, but I felt the aftermath of the impact resonate with my spirit and let me tell you that it hurts worse than anything else in the world. Even the mercy of prayer cannot save my soul from eternal damnation. Please just kill me now. If there's any mercy left in this cruel world, I beg you to take my life and let me be judged—properly judged by my Creator. You surely cannot cast judgment on me, but He can. Let me leave this life and show me peace in the life after life."
"Whatever," she said. With one clean shot, Sakina unleashed one round into his head and he fell to the right, limp on the ground. Blood slowly spilled from the fresh wound, mixing with the dirty water, filth, and black gunk he was in. It was then that she took a cigarette out from her jacket pocket, lit it, but did not smoke it, and tossed it on top of his body. He went up in flames. "Let's go." They walked away, turning a corner out of the alley and down the street.
"I don't know about you all, but I'm fuckin' starving," the tallest man said.
"You're always hungry. Jesus Christ, you got the metabolism of a goddamned hummingbird," the medium-sized man added in.
"You know, he's right. I'm getting kinda hungry, too," the shortest man said, agreeing with the tallest man.
"Well, what restaurant is open around Scacia at 2:30 AM?"another said.
The second tallest man didn't say anything. He didn't have to. They seemed to either know what he was thinking, or he was just easy to read. "How 'bout it? Wanna go to Curly's? They're the only place open twenty-four hours. I mean, come on, where the hell else are you gonna get a juicy double-stacked cheeseburger and a beer for a dollar? That's a fuckin' steal, if you're askin' me. What'd'ya say, Sakina? Wanna go? I know your stomach ain't got much of anything left in it, right?"
Sakina, their leader, in the front listened to the five of them banter back and forth about being hungry. Curly's was a small-time family owned restaurant with high-quality service. She would know. Never once did she ever have bad service. The burgers were always delicious, the salads were fresh, the liquor was crisp, and the waiters and waitresses were some of the most courtly individuals she'd ever met in her life. The minute she was out of her beverage, a refill would come just seconds after she downed her glass. She loved Curly's so much. She wasn't hungry at all, but there was no reason not to go to Curly's just to be there. Plus, her favorite server would be there tonight. All the more reason to zoom down Halfway Rd. and turn right at the intersection and see it sitting there with not a single car in sight. "Sure, why not?" she said.
They all cheered and laughed heartily, telling jokes as they all stuffed themselves into their Ford and drove to indulge themselves in late-night goodness.