Ramblin Man
Chapter One: Leveling Ground
Anselmo stepped out of his Nissan 350z. He had been called to the bar to take care of some business. Apparently some guy had been hustling pool and had managed to beat the hustler that they had working the tables that night. Typically this would not have been a big deal but he hadn't bought more then a few drinks all night and he kept the jukebox playing the purposely few southern rock tracks that they had. To Anselmo this seemed like a waste of time but the bartender seemed a little concerned as well so he decided to take care of it personally since the man was making the underlings nervous.
The bouncers said he seemed military or like a cop. Typically Anselmo wouldn't have bothered, but there was 6 kilos of uncut coke in the basement waiting to be shipped up to NYC, that was enough to make anyone nervous. This guy was apparently just a "Good Ol' Boy" as the bartender, who was another transplant put it.
Anselmo hated being here. The nature, the people, the way of life made him sick to his stomach. He had been sent to the south after garnering too much attention from another family and the Police force in NYC. Anselmo scoffed at the fact that the family said he was a loose cannon, he thought they were pussies. They had allowed the Gambino family to take near half a block of their territory with no consequences. So he had decided to show the rest of the families that they were not lying down and dying. Anselmo checked his revolver in the pancake holster on his left hip with a brief flap of his sport coat. Anselmo would be glad when he could get a good suit again. Being left handed he wasn't much for automatics and he liked the power of this caliber, a little more class and a bit more presentation. But making a presentation was what had gotten him stuck down here in the first place. But Anselmo knew if he had his time to go over again he would do it all the same. He had shot the head of the Gambino family in front of his wife and kids in a restaurant.
That had gotten him a little famous so they had relocated him down to Myrtle Beach to over see a hotel they had there. They treated him like that Cavella faggot, Anselmo thought and spat on the ground as he neared the door of the bar. But under him the one in Myrtle Beach turned to three with five feeder bars and clubs. This bar was on the outskirts of town. It did average legal business, but he could go there and not worry about his wife and pick up some tail to carry back his other little house just removed from the strip and never have any one get wise about it. Anselmo had made sure they knew that his percentage of the take was never altered and that he had gone from a measly 100k a year to over half a million a year when he had checked last week it had probably gone up since then.
Anselmo walked in to the bar, the metal detector beeped but his men waved him threw he and the bartender were the only people armed in the bar. Anselmo walked over to the bartender who pointed to the man who was now shooting a game of pool alone.
"They quit trying to beat him about the time that we called you so he's just been playing there alone. We've had the bouncers walk over but he won't get rowdy and people are randomly talking to him so going over there to beat the shit out of him would be bad for business." The Bartender, whose name Anselmo could never remember said casually wiping out a few glasses in the process.
Anselmo got two of the bouncers' attention and had them walk over.
"I am going to go speak to this inbred son of a bitch then I want you to toss his sorry dumb bitch ass out, understood?" He asked. They nodded they two were stupid inbred fucks but they were his stupid inbred fucks and he knew that they knew all to well how deep they were in after the past few months and there was no backing away. They had killed a couple of cops one in particular had gotten messy. They had taken a strung out crack head and planted a gun on him with a dead man and when the cop showed up, some dyke bitch that had been snooping around too much, they had shot her and left the crack head with the ancient Sten gun and a 8 ball. It had gotten bad from there. The crack head had gotten more cops on the scene apparently he was a Vietnam veteran and he had managed to killed a few of them and managed to get their guns and go kill the man who had been his boss a decade ago and rape and kill his wife before barring himself in the house.
"That was bad shit indeed." Anselmo said to himself as he came up to the table. Everyone had known they were all involved in some aspect. The bartender had picked the crack head out the boys had shot the other hobo and had killed cops along the way and he had shot the bitch cop, for this crew there was no way out.
"Alright you inbred fuck time to go. We've had enough of Lynrd Skynrd and your stupid pool hustling." Anselmo spat at the man.
The man sank the 8 ball out of sync.
"You stupid fuck you just ended your own game." Anselmo laughed lighting a cigarette.
"I didn't want to be behind it." The man said standing to his full height which Anselmo had to admit he was rather intimidating.
The man was nearly bald and was fairly fit and that was why the boys had thought he might be a cop, but the Marlboro red hanging from his mouth told Anselmo that he was neither. The green eyes had no glaze to them like the rest of the drunks here looked as if they saw everything, but they were set in a tired face framed in light brown stubble that was longer than the hair on his head. Most of the men here had the look about them of wanting to get laid or trying to look macho, this man had no expression in his face or voice.
"What ever the fuck that meant I don't care you are out of here." Anselmo said turning around. It seemed like the guy agreed he was unscrewing the pool cue he had brought.
"Rough him up still." Anselmo said to his boys as they walked past.
The two men were taller then this man and much more muscular, nice and showy like Anselmo liked.
"Didn't you two play Football for Southwestern Tech?" The man asked.
"Yeah we did bitch!" Tommy said back handing the man. Anselmo loved to watch Tommy fight he imagined that was what a caveman would have fought like.
"Hey Tommy oh shit I knew I knew this guy….OOH SHIT IT'S Hunter Gray… that the cop's brother." Anselmo's eyes bulged. He waved the other four bouncers over to the scene.
Hunter came up each end of the cue in one hand. The look in his eyes was wild. Anselmo got behind the bar as people began to get out of the bar seeing that the other bouncers were pulling collapsible batons.
Hunter struck Tommy with lighting fast snap hit to the Adam's apple. The one who had made him took a jab to the eye with the small end of the cue, once the end was in the man's head Hunter twirled his wrist. The man cried out. As Hunter stepped back they fell down Tommy choking and suffocating with a broken Adam's apple and a crushed wind pipe, the other one jerking as if he were having a seizure.
The other bouncers seeing this charged in screaming. Hunter avoided one blow from the collapsible baton and crushed the man's nose, the baton struck the pool table with a thud and Hunter slammed the man in to the pool table and left him hanging on it. He dropped the end of the pool cue and grabbed the baton delivering a blow to the back of the man's neck with a satisfying crack.
Anselmo watched it seemed like some kind of dance. Then he saw they got him down on one knee, it appeared as if he was finished but then he cracked all of their knees like dragging a stick across a picket fence. At this point Hunter was armed with two batons and was delivering shattering blows to their temples or throats. None of the men would live if they were not taken to the hospital soon. When the bartender pulled his shotgun Hunter dove out sight.
Anselmo and the bartender began to fire away. The combined power of their assault was turning the bar in to chunks of splintered wood and shards glass from pitchers and beer bottles.
Then they saw him and damn he was close. They both fired. Hunter had a crazed look on his face. They were both empty.
"You only have six shots." He said pointing at Anselmo "And you've already dry fired twice." Hunter said pointing at the bartender.
The Bartender began to hurl liquor bottles at the crazed man. He seemed to dodge them effortlessly. When the Jack Daniels flew by he dropped the collapsible baton and grabbed the neck of it.
"We do not waste the good things in life." Hunter said with his eyes wide, bruises were appearing on his face and forearms already. He glanced at the bottle of Jack. "Oh its Evan Williams never mind."
The bottle flew and collided with the bartender's forehead which began to bleed and he began to scream. Being a sizable man he was not able to roll over very quickly. Hunter was up on top of Anselmo before he knew it. The blow from the baton hurt profusely and Anselmo blacked out. Hunter also delivered several hard kicks to the bartender's head.
Hunter grabbed the ice pick from the cooler and knelt over the bartender.
"WHY???!!!" the bartender cried.
"Because you deserved it" Hunter said rolling him over and stabbing between the third and forth vertebrates. Hunter emptied the cash register and turned the pool cue holster off his back and turned it upside down and produced a twelve gauge flare round.
Picking up the shotgun he loaded it then fired it at a hole in the wall from the buckshot. Smoke started flowing instantly. Hunter looked and chunked the large bottle of Everclear against the wall as well. The flames quickly ran over the fuel.
Hunter then carried Anselmo out to the Old F-100 pickup truck he was driving. Quickly loading Anselmo in the passenger seat he took off. The night was foggy the swamp water was still warm in compared to the cold spring night.
Then Hunter's luck ran out. Blue lights appeared in his rear view. He pulled over and stopped even though he had taken the law in to his hands he still more then respected these men. As the Officer exited his cruiser Hunter realized he knew this man well he had been a friend of his sister. The man was Officer Jake Smith.
Officer Smith walked up to the window after squatting at the rear.
"I put some false plates on the back. Here's the registration and your new Identity." Officer Smith said handing him a manila envelope. "You are dead, the fire claimed your life after a drunken bar fight that got out of control. Coroner Bradley says hello. Now disappear." Officer Smith said.
Hunter nodded. "Thanks."
"Give em hell and gut him and drop him in the river so he goes out to sea." Officer Smith said nodding at Anselmo and turning and walking off.
Hunter started the truck rolled away. Hunter drove in to the backwoods. They belonged to a 75 year old man that had been a moonshine maker back in the 1960s. He pulled up to the shack and stopped. He hauled Anselmo in and bound him to an old wooden chair.
Anselmo felt the cold water hit him and he screamed. A propane lamp illuminated the shack and he saw the mad man in front of him. The cigarette let a slow plume of smoke in to the room.
"You motherfucker when I get free-"
"You won't" Hunter said. "The only thing that you have left to decide is how much pain you endure before you die."
Anselmo was scared, the propane lamp swaying back and forth was not letting him see Hunter's eyes, and the boy wasn't kidding. "You son of a bitch." he cried.
"Who do you get your coke from?" Hunter asked.
"Fuck you, you inbred shit!" Anselmo spat. It hit Hunter's shirt. This garnered a hard slap across the face.
"No warnings." Hunter said as he pulled utility knife out.
"Stay still or this will slit your wrist." He said pinching skin from Anselmo's wrist. The razor delivered precise cuts. Hunters hand was not shaken from Anselmo's screams.
"Okay you will tell me now or I will skin your hand." Hunter said after giving a clean cut.
"You fuck…" Anselmo cried snot and spit leaking from his nose and mouth tears welling in his eyes.
Hunter went back to cutting.
"WE GET IT FROM A DEALER IN FLORIDA…..MIAMI…..ALEJANDRO VARGAS…WE MEET HIM AT HIS RESTURANT ONE OF THOSE FIVE STAR LATINO DEALS…..LA FUEGA." Anselmo cried out.
"You're lying he was busted 6 months ago." Hunter said and made long cut down Anselmo's palm exposing the muscles.
"AHHHHHHHH NO HE'S OUT ALREADY BACK IN BUISSNESS." Anselmo yelled the chair rocking back and forth. Hunter gripped the skin of Anselmo's hand tightly through the latex gloves and ripped most of it from his hand with one strong jerk.
Hunter wanted a cigarette.
"WHY I TOLD YOU THE TRUTH……WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS????" Anselmo cried out as he rocked the chair his crucifix swinging out. Hunter reached out and yanked the chain and laid the crucifix on the table.
"Oh, God save me!" Anselmo cried out the blood pouring on to the ground. He felt something tie so tight above his bicep that it hurt. Dumping salt on the exposed wounds and then burning them with his lighter he listened with a stone face as Anselmo screamed.
"Don't bring him in to this. You think I'm bad? Read the Old Testament." Hunter spat. He hand had stopped bleeding thanks to the tourniquet.
"Where is your splash pad and what is the safe's combination?" Hunter asked the gloves were off a small not pad was out. "You've done well. I am going to let you go."
"1357 Beachfront drive, it's a little blue house. No girls there tonight you can leave me there. The safe is digital 65-98-43. There should be sixty five grand in there and a clean piece." Anselmo said praising God in his mind.
"Alright we're done." Hunter said. Hunter pulled the chair with Anselmo in it out of the shack. Then he carried the propane lamp out. With a grunt he shoved Anselmo and the chair in to the bed of the truck.
"You can put me up front…please don't take it back please!!!!" Anselmo cried.
The truck bumped along the dirt path to an old bridge to most it would have looked like a death trap. But Hunter knew it was fine there was no danger in falling into the big muddy river below unless you fell through a spot with no rails, which was exactly were Hunter drug Anselmo.
"My sister was the only family I have. You killed, you shot her that night. She didn't die instantly; the Coroner told me that she slowly bled to death since you used a subsonic bullet for her. It hit her NOSE" With that Hunter hit Anselmo in the face with a Spetsnatz replica shovel he had pulled from his toolbox on the truck. Anselmo's nose shattered and he fell to his back still in the chair.
"The bullet burrowed just deep enough to make sure she couldn't see but she felt every bit of it, possibly even when the hobo raped her dying body. You know who killed that hobo? No you don't. It was me. I snuck in to that house before the cops knew what he had done. I beat him to death with a tire iron. I beat his skull until it wasn't there. I hammered away at the floor shattering the wood floor and then I left. I was done until I found out it was you. Then I knew you had to pay. Then I found out that whole club was in on it. So you all had to pay." With a swing the sharpened edge of the Spetsnatz shovel spilt Anselmo's stomach horizontally.
"They'll kill you!! THEY WILL KILL YOUR FUCKING ASS!!" Anselmo cried and screamed as vomited and saw the tug on his intestines as they spilled on to the bridge at his feet.
"No. No they won't." Hunter said coolly. Hunter pulled a liquor bottle from his back pocket as he poured it on the intestines.
Anselmo began to scream. "That's not whiskey." Hunter said as he lit a pack of matches from the bar and dropped them on the edges where the gas was peddled up. The screams of the dead man reached a crescendo. "I want you to know that I take no pleasure in this. But that is because I don't think there is anything left in me that can feel." Hunter said all too calmly. Anselmo's screams sounded like a child playing with the volume knob on a stereo.
The screams that could get no higher did.
Hunter stood and listened to the man screaming. It did nothing. He felt no better, he honestly felt no worse. All that his mind told him now was that this had to be done. There was no one here to do it so he would. Hunter knew that he would have to do it to the best of his abilities if he wanted to make a difference.
Hunter chopped Anselmo in the forehead with the shovel and heard the last little bit of air leave the mans lungs in a final sob. Hunter made a jab with the shovel in to the chest of the man taking out the lungs.
"Died crying like the bitch he was." Hunter said and spat on the body. He ut the restraints and kicked the body in to the river. THe body hit the water water filled the chest cavity and he was drug across the bottom of the river. Hunter knew he wouldn't make it all the way to the sea. There was a good chance that one of the alligators around here would opt for an easy meal. It would n't be the first time.
Hunter walked to the tool box on the truck and pulled out a bottle of water and lye soap and washed his hands. Hunter pulled his clothes off and burnt those and changed in to another set he lit a cigarette and slowly made his back to the highway. He needed a good shower and a decent meal. As Hunter took a drag off of the cigarette he knew there was still work to do.
Chapter Two: Laying the Foundation
Hunter drove to the little blue house and let him self in with the keys that he had taken from Anselmo. Hunter slipped throw the house his Shotgun at ready clearing the house. After he was sure it was empty he went to the kitchen and checked to see what was in the fridge. He was starving he hadn't had a good meal in what seemed like weeks. Hunter wouldn't have one now either. The only thing in the fridge was beer and vodka. Checking the freezer he found a Hungry Man dinner. He looked at the expiration date which was over a year ago. Grumbling he went to the safe and