Chapter 7: War and Peace
Nicole had been the first one to be wasted. Rock, even though for almost a year he hadn't drunk a shot, had managed to keep his sobriety and attend to her. He had carried her on his back out of the club and out to the streets. He took the same alley that they had taken—Rock didn't know any other alley. The place was already clean. There were no police lines he could see. Probably, the police had thought that by tomorrow those lines would disappear anyway so they hadn't bothered keeping them there. The blood was still there, although he could only see faintly under the reflected light from the wall. There were chalk marks at the spots where there had been a corpse. Without paying a keen attention to the remnants of his rampage, he walked through the alley.
Fortunately, there was still a taxi on patrol at that time, one-twenty five in the morning. Yeah, why would he worry? New York never sleeps. He could have found a dozen for ten minutes of waiting. He asked the driver to drive them to the Almond Hills, but the driver refused four blocks before his apartment.
"Sorry, sir. I can only go this far."
"Huh? Aren't you supposed to take me anywhere until I say stop?"
"My plate has some issues regarding intruding turfs. I'm sorry."
"What turfs?"
"Sorry, I can't tell you. Don't worry. I'll only ask you to pay me half the total fare."
Rock was reluctant to accept this, but he knew he didn't have much choice. He paid the cabdriver up and, once again, he and Nicole were out in the cold.
Three blocks more before his apartment, Nicole suddenly muttered something.
"Rock?"
He was somewhat startled. "Ummm?" he replied.
"Do you really believe that the reason I risked my life for the sake of seeing you again is because I realized your true nature the first time we met?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the truth is, even though I was a mafioso, I was only a mafioso by title. I didn't involve myself in my family's activities, and I've been just living a normal life ever since. So, I've never been a villain before. I don't have the ability to distinguish a villain from a normal person. The first time I saw you, I didn't see anything more than a handsome guy." She chuckled. "The true reason I risked my life just to meet you again is because I felt that, besides myself, the only other person that I could completely trust was you."
"Oh, really?" he teased.
She lightly punched him in the cheek. "Dork. You think I'm not serious?"
"I think you're drunk. Definitely drunk."
She sighed.
"And reeking," he followed up, laughing.
She was silent for a time. Then she said, "In the restaurant, when you helped me, I felt something from you. I didn't know if that was charm or something else, but I definitely felt it. Then, as we talked, I gradually became at ease with you. The next thing I remember, I was foolishly anticipating something like you noticing my cuteness or you asking my number or my address, and so on. Then, when you left, even though at first I didn't feel it, I started missing you. I felt that I just had to meet you no matter what.
"When I finally had the chance to talk to you, earlier, you would never understand how I felt. I just kept myself from crying in happiness. I felt that the danger around me wasn't really a threat. I felt that as long as you were there beside me, no one could ever touch me. I felt that as long as I stayed with you, I could forever be safe."
Rock didn't reply.
"Rock?"
"Yes?"
"Will you protect me?"
He sighed. "You don't have to ask. Don't worry. I will protect you."
She snuggled closer to him. "Thank you."
…
The coldness of a December dawn could be painful on the skin. One might never be able to walk through it. But, Nicole couldn't feel anything but warmth. The bird naps she had endured for the past few weeks were already over. At last, she found peace. She felt that even if a pistol's nuzzle was on her head, she wouldn't worry. As long as she was with Rock, as long as he was by her side, nobody could do her harm. And that peace went on. Now, she felt his arms carrying her. She felt him laying her on a soft bed. And finally, she felt his lips on her forehead and the gentle "goodnight" on her right ear. He left her, then. But, although alone inside that dark room, she didn't feel lonely.
…
Rock gently closed the bedroom's door and walked to his couch. When he was there, he sprawled on it, eyes looking at the sunflower calendar on the wall. He felt the cold seeping through his skin. Even inside the unit, his breathing was pluming in front of his face. There was no snow, yet, but it felt as if there had been since two days ago.
Worse than the cold was his restlessness. Now his mind was at war. A normal life had just fled from his grasp. (What a shitty day.) He had thought of getting over it fast by taking a nice, long sleep. With the cold and alcohol in him now, it seemed to be easy. But, he had not the most important thing to make him able to close his eyes and rest his body. Peace. He felt alone, again. (I've been living like a flower in the midst of a vast grassland.) Yes, he should not be feeling like that, because Nicole was just inside the next room. But her presence didn't fill the emptiness in him. He struggled to get a reason.
Sighing in frustration to find one, he groped for a cigarette, his old pal. Through thick and thin, his Rhino had been his only friend. He found none. Eh, even old Rhino buddy has left me. Shaking his head, he stood up. He needed to have a stick no matter what. He knew that it was better than alcohol in cooling him down. Without knowing it, he went for a drawer, pulled it, and got himself his arm-length knife. He strapped it around his left leg and went outside to Ben's Grocery, the no-breaks, no-holidays store.
He had just his sweater on. It was a gray sweater with a large yellow "I Would Love to Lay with You" letters Nicole had bought for him. In his mind, he had called it a "Gigolo Ad", but, in front of her, he had dubbed it "A Sexy Little Thing." Yeah, what a liar he was. And no one could blame him for it.
The cold air splashed him like a tsunami. He felt as if thousands of needles were piercing his skin. His lips turned dry. Geez, why the hell did I not wear my winter—
He sensed someone. Abruptly, he turned his head around to where his instincts were pointing him. There were only lampposts along the road, shadows on the sides, and buildings at the intersection. No one was around. But, he was sure about it. There was definitely someone there. The danger, like the cold, was real.
…
The crosshair returned on the man with the gray sweater, the center of the cross on his head. One…two…three. The man was gone all of a sudden. The magnified image where he had been standing was now empty of his presence. The crosshair moved around. It took some seconds. Then, it caught the man in gray now walking in the shadows. The gunner didn't think, anymore, and just fired. A suppressed roar went out of the sniper rifle. But, the man wasn't hit. He was now running, growing nearer and nearer on the telescopic view. The sniper fired, and fired, and fired, but always missed. The silencer on the muzzle was now steaming. And, like the steam dissipating in the cold air, the image of the running man disappeared from sight once more. The crosshair swept the whole breadth of the street but failed to spot the man in gray. There was a sound of frustration. Then, only images in fast transition registered in the telescopic sight. Cluck! The transition slowed and finally stopped. Now, the crosshair was locked on a can of empty Yoko sardines that was surrounded by empty cartridges of bullets. It might not lock on anything, again, but on that rusty can for a very long time, as long as it had taken the can to finally decompose into dust.
To be continued…
