Italics once again indicate Nick's dream. Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy.
"Il tipo che sta andando vincere la lotta è quello che è disposto a morire piЫ in secondo luogo per appena una di vita."
Nick looked all around him, but couldn't see anything. It was pitch black everywhere, except for the light shining down on him. He recognized Jack's voice, but couldn't see him anywhere around him. Not only that, but Jack wasn't speaking English. Nick was too tired and had too bad of a headache to want to deal with this right now.
"Jack, speak friggen English, would ya?"
"You know Italian just as well Nick," Jack said. "You've known it for almost as long as you've known English."
Nick was about to argue when Jack spoke, again in Italian.
"Il coraggio sta facendo che cosa ritiene la destra e non preoccuparsi che siete quello unico che lo farebbe." He paused, then said, "You know what I said. Think about it Nick."
Italics once again indicate Nick's dream. Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy.
Nick reluctantly thought about what Jack had just said as well and what he had said the first time. He did know Italian very well, it was just hard for him to think it right now. So many things were in his mind that it was making it very hard to concentrate. When he finally figured it out, it didn't make any sense to him.
Jack must have been able to tell he was confused, so he repeated himself. "Il tipo che sta andando vincere la lotta è quello che è disposto a morire piЫ in secondo luogo per appena una di vita."
"The guy that is going to win the fight is the one that is willing to die for one more second of life," Nick replied.
"Exactly," Jack said.
"That makes no sense," Nick said.
But Jack didn't listen. Instead, he repeated himself again, saying, "Il coraggio sta facendo che cosa ritiene la destra e non preoccuparsi che siete quello unico che lo farebbe."
"Courage is being able to do the right thing and not care that you are the only one who would do it," Nick said.
"Correct," Jack replied. "So you know what I said, now use it."
"They make no sense," Nick argued. "And why couldn't you have just said that in English?"
"Because you wouldn't have had to think about it if I had just told you," Jack said. "You're trying to act more than think. If you think, what to do will just come to you. But don't think with your head. Pensi con il vostro cuore."
"Think with your heart," Nick said softly as the light around him began to fade, until he was consumed in totaly darkness.
Nick opened his eyes slowly, more out of necessity than choice. They felt like they were glued shut and weighed a hundred pounds each. His head was already spinning before his eyes were even open, and he could distinctly feel an intense burning at the base of his neck. He felt weightless, and at the same time his muscles felt like they had turned to stone. His vision was blurry, adding to his light headed and dizziness. He inhaled deeply, only to make himself cough to try and rid his throat and lungs of the dusk he had sucked up in the process.
As he coughed, Nick pulled himself up so he was sitting instead of lying on his side. He was finally able to catch his breath and take enough deep breaths to steady himself from swaying. His vision cleared, and for the first time, he was able to look around him. He immediatly wished he couldn't see anything. He noticed he was in the middle of the desert, the only lights coming from the stars and the moon and the distant lights of the city strip miles away. But that's not what made his heart sink to the pit of his chest.
His brother Mike was lying five feet away from his on his back, his head turned to the side. His eyes were open and looking at Nick. His chest was moving up and down slowly, the only sure sign of life. His face was one big bruise underneath the blood spilling from the wound on his forehead. His clothes were torn, dirty and bloodstained, as was his skin. Countless cuts were visible on his arms, neck, chest and legs. Blood was pouring from the cuts all over his body, and the parts where there were no cuts were black with bruises. Nick had never seen a live body in such a bad condition.
Nick slowly stood and moved over to Mike, only to kneel down next to him. Upon doing so, Nick saw that there was a gun on the desert ground, just out of Mike's reach. Mike looked up at Nick, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.
Nick felt tears stinging his eyes as he forced himself to speak. "What happened?"
Mike smiled weakly. "I got what was coming to me," he croaked.
Nick shook his head slowly. "Who did this to you?"
"It doesn't matter," Mike said. "You'll never be able to prove it."
"Yes I can," Nick said as he reached for his phone, only to discover that it had been unclipped from his belt. He reached into his left front pocket and breathed a sight of relief when the zip disk met his fingers.
"They took your phone and left you here to find me," Mike said. "To watch me die."
Nick shook his head again. "You're not gonna die, I'm gonna get you outta here and get you help."
"You don't understand," Mike said, shaking his head. "What they did to me, it's going to take me about twenty more minutes to die, maybe a little bit more. It takes a half an hour to get back to the city without a car. Even if you make it to the city, you won't get help back here in time. I'll be dead long before that."
The tears started to fall from Nick's eyes. "No, I can help you. You're going to be okay. You're not going to die."
Mike nodded. "Yes, I am. I've seen this happen to so many guys before. We planned it out this way. They did it to me so that I'd know I was a goner. There's no other way."
"There has to be," Nick said as he looked frantically around him. But they really were out in the middle of nowhere, nothing around them except for a few sand dunes and an occassional group of dried out trees and bushes casting more shadows into the dark, concealing God knows what. Nick felt like they weren't alone, but had more to worry about at the moment.
"There is," Mike said, glancing to the gun to his right.
Nick shook his head for the umpteenth time. "No, you're going to be okay. Don't give up on me Mike, not yet."
"In this business," Mike said, "when you get whacked, it's always your best friend that does it. I know now that as your blood runs thin and your time runs out. No one will be listening, not even if you scream. Your angels turn to devils, and then you finally figure out thatno one will be with you in the end. That's how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to die alone, but you're here with me. My time's running out, and you're here."
"You're going to be okay," Nick said, hoping that if he said it enough times it would come true.
"We both know I'm not going to make it out of this alive," Mike said. "They beat me up pretty good. I've only got about fifteen more minutes left to live, but this isn't living Nicky."
"Jack said that to you," Nick said. "The stuff about angels and devils."
Mike nodded. "He told you too," he said more than asked.
Nick nodded slightly. "Yeah, but I don't know what he meant."
"That's a first," Mike said with a small smile. "I was bought and sold into this so young. Jack got you out, he saved you, or else this would be you too."
"What does it mean?" Nick asked.
"When it comes down to it," Mike explained, "sooner or later you're going to realize things aren't what you thought they were. Who you thought people were and what you thought was true aren't. What's good turns to bad. I realized this too late. It's not too late for you to reverse your thinking."
"What's right is wrong, and what's wrong is right," Nick said.
Mike nodded. "Just like this," he said, his hand nearest the gun twitching.
Nick shook his head again. "I can't."
"This isn't living," Mike said. "This is suffering, this is torture. This is what they want. They're trying to test you."
"I can't," Nick repeated weakly.
"Don't make the last fifteen minutes of my life the hardest of yours," Mike said.
Nick was at a crossroads unlike any other. What Jack had said was now coming into contex. Shooting Mike would be wrong by the legal definition. But morally, it was the humane thing to do. He was suffering, badly, and was begging for it. He didn't deserve to be in pain and die struggling to breathe. He didn't deserve to die at all, especially since Nick had met him what only seemed like yesterday. Nick stayed there, kneeling next to his brother, watching him suffer, causing pain to himself.
Most people wouldn't be able to do it. Most people wouldn't see it as being the right thing to do and wouldn't have the courage to do what they knew they should because it was supposed to be wrong.
Pensi con il vostro cuore. Think with your heart.
Nick's heart told him to stand, so he did. Slowly he rose to his feet. He walked around Mike and picked up the gun, the small object weighing down his arm like it was a cinder block. Nick walked back over to Mike, standing close enough so that his brother could wrap his hand around his right ankle tightly, not telling Nick to stop, but trying to make him continue. Nick held the gun by his side, tears flowing down his dust ridden face, clearing trails down his cheeks all the way to his neck where they disappeared underneath the collar of his t-shirt.
Mike tightened his grip on Nick. His breathing was ragged and hoarse and filled the silence around them. Nick could hear it over the beating of his heart in his ears. It was just a reminder that someone he loved was suffering terribly, and he had the power to end it. He had the responsibility to do the right thing and free his brother.
Mike smiled up at Nick. "I love you very much," he said genuinely. "Don't you ever forget that."
"I love you too," Nick said sadly.
He raised the gun, making sure it was lined up for a clean, painless shot. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on the desperate grip on his ankle. Without any further thought, he pulled the trigger. The loud shot that rang out drowned everything else out. The beating of his heart stopped in his ears with the pull of the trigger. The raspy breathing ceased. The grip on his leg loosened, and then was no more.
Nick kept his eyes shut as tightly as possible as he slowly sank down to the desert ground. He wished he could sink all the way through the sand and stay there. He wanted to get away from all the problems and evil that the city lights were illuminating, and especailly from those that the shadows were concealing.