EYEHEARTZOMBIES

I feel like I’m taking off the years when I write this stuff down. I never would have thought it could feel this good to bring up such bad stuff before I started. I don’t have a lot of time left, though, so I’ll write some more and think about how it feels to go over everything later. If I can.

After the whole Cindy thing, I kind of kept my head low for awhile. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter…. They all came and went and I just kept doing my thing. Ray started giving me bigger and bigger jobs and after a half-year or so, I got my own crew. They were a bunch of two-bit hoods, but they did alright by me. And I did alright by them, too. Only two of ‘em never went home to their mothers. The rest all did fine.

They’re not really that important to what got me here, though.

Lucca was one of ‘em. Manny was another. Those two did a lot in my life, and lot in my road to this shithouse. Lucca left the racket about two years after Max came back from college. That would be about five years total after the warehouse.

We were in upstate New York, outside of a farm house in the middle of winter. It gave me the memory heebie jeebies it was so close to how Joey had died. Lucca was still the biggest Italian guy I had ever seen; one you’d never dare call a daygo or a guido; and I had finally grown into my job. I still carried that little Saturday Night Special, though. Kept it in a special holster that hung in the small of my back, just under my suit jacket.

This night we were just there for a hit. Two guys had decided to duck out of the Mob, which was fine. They ducked out with a half-million in cold cash, which wasn’t. They also left a trail of dead gas station attendants and hookers a mile-wide that anyone could have followed. Naturally, the police were days behind us in tracking them down. We showed up at the abandoned farm house around midnight and they were still up, having a good time. All the lights were on, the house was ablaze with yellow light and sounds of a portable turntable blaring out Glen Miller. We could hear laughter and talking — loud talking, they were obviously drunk — a half-mile down the road. We didn’t bother sneaking up on the house.

The house was a typical farmhouse. One front door smack-dab in the middle of one of the long walls, two windows on each side of it. The two short sides had one window each, the back three. There was a chimney on the roof and it was belching white smoke into the late winter air. This was in February of ‘42, if I remember correctly. War was raging all over the world, and we were about to bring a bit of it to this house.

A long woodpile stood on the side of the house, tall and strong enough for me to stand on and reach the edge of the roof. It was a cedar slat job, which I liked. No slippery tiles for me to ice skate across. I pulled myself up and worked my way over to the middle of the roof. Then I edged down the front slope until I was just above the front door. Lucca had been edging around to the back of the house.

The plan was for him to get around back, pop in at a window and scare the daylights out of ‘em. They’d come running out to jump in the car they had stolen along the way, which I had taken the keys and spark plug wires from, and I’d cap ‘em on their way out. Intricate and over-the-top, yes. But damned if it hadn’t been a boring year so far.

I was laying on my stomach, on the snowy shingles above the front door, when I heard some pebbles hit the roof behind me. A couple more hit, and one bounced and hit me on the head. I pushed my way up to my knees, then to my feet, and walked back up the roof slope to the top. Lucca was standing near the trees that grew by the house and he held up five fingers to me. I held up five back and shrugged my shoulders. He held up five again, then three and make sweeping shapes in front of his chest. I looked at him for a minute, then it came to me. Mountains, knockers, funbags. Breasts! There were three dames in there.

I shrugged my shoulders then ran a finger across my throat. I shrugged again. Should we kill ‘em? Lucca waved at me to come down so we could talk. I hopped off of his end of the roof.

“I don’t like this,” Lucca said in his loud whisper. “We shouldn’t kill people that aren’t involved.”

“How do you know they’re not involved, Lucca? They’re with the scumbags. I say they’re as guilty as the rat bastards that ran out with the money.”

“I still don’t like it,” he said. Lucca had never been one for needless bloodshed, but I was surprised at his…desire…to leave this one for another day. Another day and the cops might get a clue and hope up here. Another day and these bastards might realize we were here. They had already killed two gas station attendants, one at each fueling stop along the way, and four hookers. The hookers had been killed in the big cities along the way. One pair in Ithaca and another in Albany. They were bad news for women.

Another day and they might be bad news for us.

“Look, Lucca, if we kill ‘em all, yeah, we’re horrible. We kill two innocent dames. But if we don’t kill ‘em, chances are they’ll kill the girls themselves tomorrow ‘fore they move on. If we kill the guys and leave the girls, they could finger us to the coppers.” I tried to sound considerate, but I wasn’t sure how it came out. I was more interested in saving my ass and getting said ass back to some place warm.

Lucca looked at me for a few moments, obviously considering what I had just said. Finally, he nodded. “OK,” he said, “but we do it a new way. You go in front door, I go in side door.”

“Side door? I didn’t see no side door.”

Lucca lead me over to the other side, opposite the wood stockpile, to where a double-door was set into the ground, leading into a cellar or basement.

“OK,” I said, wanting to get the job over with. Lucca pulled open the doors with a dead-raising squeal and headed down into the darkness. I just hoped there was a door leading up into the house somewhere down there. And that Lucca would find it. I stumped back around to the front of the house.

I didn’t stop at the front door. I went past it to the far window, and crouched down. I looked in over the sill and I could see all five people dancing and jiving to Glenn Miller. I liked the big band stuff as well as the next guy, but tonight it seemed to grate inside my skull.

A movement in the corner caught my eye and I saw Lucca’s head peeking out from under a trap door in the corner of the room. Apparently any other rooms in the house were on the other end, as this end was just the living room and kitchen.

I ran back around to the front door just as Lucca came fully out of the floor. I kicked the door handle and watched the door fly in on its hinges. It slammed against the jamb and the bang was finally enough noise to alert the traitors that justice had come.

I walked in, holding two forty-fives, one in each hand, and shot a girl with each of my first shots. I had aimed low for the first round and caught each of them in the stomach. They dropped to the floor and screamed.

Lucca’s first shot, carrying his shotgun as always, took the feet out from under one of the guys and the third girl. I turned to my right and shot the second guy as he dashed toward a table with a couple of pistols and a rifle on it. I hit him in the knee and the shoulder, causing him to stumble and rap his head on the edge of the table. He hit the floor in a belly flop and began to bleed.

I went over to the second guy, the one I had just shot, and turned him over. He seemed to be out cold and I only needed information from one. I shot him again, this time in the head. He flopped once and never moved again.

Lucca had walked over to the two girls I had shot first and began to check them for any weapons. They were clean — I saw now they were just in underwear anyway, hard to hide a weapon in that — and then he checked the first guy and the last girl. I joined him.

The first guy, who must have been Tim from the description we had received — long, stringy hair; two birthmarks, one on his neck, the other on his left shoulder — was trying to crawl toward the doors in the other short wall. I assumed there were bedrooms that way. Both of his knees were shredded by the wolf shot that Lucca had used on him, so he was pulling himself along with his hands. He was concentrating so hard on moving that he didn’t noticed me walking up in front of him. I stepped on his right hand and he screamed.

“Shut up,” I said, and slapped him across the back of his head with an open palm. “Shut up, turn over on your back. Don’t move a peg.” He hurried to obey. “Now, tell me. What made you think, in that tiny little head of yours, that you could take our money?”

“We — we just wanted out, man. That’s all.” His eyes were wide with fear. “We just wanted out.”

“I don’t go for that magoo. You know who I am, don’t you?”

“You’re one of the icemen, right. The killers. I — I don’t know you, man. I never seen you before in my life! Just let me go, man, just let me go and I promise you’ll never see me again. Nobody has to know! I won’t tell a soul. You can take the money — take it all, I don’t want it! Just let me live”

“Tell me about the dough, Tim. Where’d you stash it? In the rooms over here? What else am I going to find in there? Some more dead dime-bangers, Tim? I know how you two are. You like to ride ‘em and then put ‘em away dead, don’t you? You’re a couple of sick fucks, Tim. But, hey, to each his own. What’ll I find in there?” I threw away both of the pistols and pulled the revolver out from behind my back. I stuck the barrel, chilly from being outside, to his sweating, feverish forehead.

His eyes rolled in their sockets and he tried to look at me and the gun at the same time. “Just the money, man! Just the money. Oh God, please let me live. Kill James if you want, man. Kill him if he’s not dead already. Take the money. We didn’t mean to kill the girls. I didn’t, at least. That was all James, man, all James. I ain’t no killer. There’s nothing in there but the money, man!”

“Nothing but the money?” I asked, cool as a corpse.

“Nothing but the — .” The last word was swallowed in the hollow whump of the revolver’s shot. Tim dropped dead. I used the next three shots to take out the women, too. The room seemed eerily quiet with only Lucca and I breathing in it, now.

I heard Lucca call my name from near the front door. I turned to him. “Yeah?”

“I’m going back to the car. Get the money,” he said, then turned and walked out the door. He closed the door behind him as much as he could; it hung slightly off plumb now. I turned and opened the first of the two doors on that side. It was the bathroom. Nothing in there but piss and a few whiskey bottles. The second door was the bedroom and there was a duffel bag sitting on the bed, neat as you please. I snatched it up and opened it up. The money was in it, alright, so I zipped it back up, turned and walked out of the house. I kicked over one of the oil heaters they were using to keep it warm enough to dance in their underwear. In a few minutes, the oil would leak out and in a few more the place would start to burn.

Lucca and I had parked the car a quarter-mile or so from the house, as usual, and the walk back seemed very loud. My steps echoed off of the snow-covered trees and came back to me as several people walking. I always hated that effect and it made me think that things were going to go badly soon. I was right.

When I got back to the car, Lucca was standing next to it. The car was started and warming up, but he stood out in the cold, rubbing his hands and stamping his feet.

“What’s all this?” I asked him, feeling a sinking feeling in my gut. “Why’re you out in the cold, ya goomba.” I smiled at him. I think I was the only one he’d ever let call him names.

“I’m done with this,” he said, his head hanging. “I don’t like all the killing no more. I’ll drop you off tonight and then I’m done. No more killing for Lucca.” He looked up at me when he had finished, his face asking for acceptance, but his eyes defiant.

“OK,” I said. “I’ll tell the bosses tomorrow. Let’s get a cup of coffee ‘fore you leave, though, OK?”

He smiled and we got in the car. I never saw Lucca after that night. Seems like people walk out of my life an awful lot.

Posted in 2004 Novel, Uncategorized | No Comments »

All my life, from living in a tiny, one bedroom apartment with my parents, to living in the big house I had before I ended up in the Big House, I loved the City. It’s always ‘the City,’ have you noticed that? Never ‘a city.’ And I always loved the feeling of home that you get from walking the streets in New York City. It’s the biggest house you’ll ever find. It was to me, at least.

So, after a quick stop at my apartment to drop off and stash away most of the money I had just been given, I hopped a train to Manhattan. I had five hundred dollars in my pockets and all day to spend ‘em. Wait, scratch that. I had until three. Then Cindy got off, and Heaven help me if I let a girl get away from me over buying stuff. I’ve always been a sucker for dames; it was my downfall, even.

Anyway, I hopped a train, got off near Broadway. I had plenty of money, so I wanted to make the most of the day. I walked down Broadway, enjoying the sights and smells. I had never really had much time for this part of New York; I was too poor for culture. I looked at all the billboards and posters for the plays and musicals at the theaters. I watch people in Times Square; people with very purposeful steps and people strolling, people with their heads down, watching their feet, and people throwing popcorn and bread crumbs to the birds. It was nearing lunch time, so I bought a pretzel from a cart vendor. I tossed the last couple of bites to the birds as I walked toward Wall Street.

For those of us who never grew up with any money, Wall Street held a special place in our New York mythos. It was a place of power; a place of money and fame. When the stock market crashed a few years ago, back in ‘29, most of us had no idea what it meant. When the rags reported people jumping from buildings and blowing their brains out, we started to think there might be more to it. I’ve never been the greedy type, so killing yourself over some lousy bits of paper seemed about as smart as killing yourself over some dame that got away. There was always more out there, so don’t take it so hard.

I didn’t stay long to look at Wall Street, it being so much less than I expected, and I continued my seaward journey. My next big stop was Battery Park, at the tip of Manhattan. I had been here a time or two before, but I always loved it. Green grass and trees surrounded by ocean…and all of that surrounded by a huge city. It was just too strange of a mixture for me to pass up. I strolled around the park for an hour or so, then began my walk back toward Grand Central Station for my trip back home.

I took a very random path up Manhattan, wanting to see a few more places before I got back. And I was trying to think of what to do with Cindy that night. As I was crossing Delancy Street, I decided I’d bring her back to Manhattan tonight, take her into Chinatown for some good food and then maybe to Central Park for a moonlit buggy ride. That sounded like a great idea to me, so I began to walk a bit faster, a smile on my face. I was eager to get this date started.

I passed Bellevue on my way to the Station. I didn’t know anyone in there, but the place scared me nonetheless. I had heard horrible stories about some of the patients there. Inmates is more like it, I thought. I still don’t know if it was as horrible as I had heard and thought. I really don’t want to know. That much sickness in one place can’t be a good thing. I hurried past it.

When I reached Grand Central, I quickly bought a return ticket and hopped onto the train. I got back to my apartment around two-thirty and I ran to take another shower and get dressed. When I was looking for something to wear, I realized I hadn’t gone shopping. I had planned to buy a nice, new suit, and I had been so caught up in my tour of Manhattan and my own thoughts that I had completely forgotten about going to Macy’s and Saks Fifth Avenue. What I had would have to do, I guess.

At a quarter to three I stepped out onto the street in front of my apartment building and started walking the few blocks to the greasy spoon — Sally’s, it was called — where Cindy worked. I slowed my steps at the edge of the diner’s block when I saw she was already outside. I called to her and she turned to see who I was.

“Hi!” I said, hoping to God she still remembered me from this morning. Her face brightened — a good sign! — and she waved at me.

“Hi yourself,” she beamed. “I thought you had forgotten.”

I glanced at my watch. It was just now three o’clock. I looked back up at her. “You must run at a different time than everyone else, doll. It’s just now three and that’s when you said to be here. So here I am.” I smiled at her again and she smiled back.

“I know,” she said. She slipped an arm through mine and looked up at me through her long lashes. “Where are we going?”

“I thought I’d take you out on the town,” I said, smiling a suggestive smile. “How does that take you?”

She hugged my arm a bit tighter. “Great,” she purred. We walked down the street a bit and I got a better look at her with no counter in the way. She was a girl that just wouldn’t stop. A real peach, if you know what I mean. “I should go to my place, first,” she said, “to get ready for our date. You can come, too.” She smiled at me again, setting me on fire. I nodded to show that I thought that was a splendid idea.

She lived two blocks to the north of the diner. We walked there, arm in arm, not talking about anything important. The trees that lined the street, the weather, movies we had seen recently. We reached her apartment building shortly and she told me to follow her in. A sign on the front said that men weren’t allowed, but she said that didn’t apply during the day. I followed like an obedient puppy dog.

Her apartment was just two rooms, plus the bathroom. She sat me down on the couch in the living room and said she’d be right back. She went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, to change. She must not have caught the latch, ’cause the door swung open a bit. I know this is the most unbelievable event in a story, but it really did happen. I saw her waitressing dress land on the floor, following her shoes. They were the flat-soled kind that nurses and waitresses seem to wear everywhere in the world.

She walked over to the dresser, half-naked. I could barely contain myself. A nineteen-year-old boy shouldn’t be alone with undressing women. Especially not women as smokin’ as this mouse was. She pulled a fuzzy sweater out of the dresser drawer and turned to go somewhere else in the room. The closet, maybe. When she turned, she saw that the door was open and that I could see her — that I was watching, even. I turned away as soon as I saw her notice me, but before I did, I saw her smile a little smile at me. She closed the door, firmly catching the latch this time. I sat in the living room, convinced she’d never go out with me that night.

A few minutes later, she walked out in the sweater and a shin-length wool skirt. She had put on some fresh makeup and looked radiant. She smiled at me again, the same smile as when she caught me peeping her, and asked if I was ready. We left for our date.

Posted in 2004 Novel, Uncategorized | No Comments »

I woke up the next day nice and early. After a much-needed shower — I felt that I couldn’t wash all of the blood off of me — and a shave, I walked down the corner store and called Ray again. He wasn’t home, but his wife told me that he was already at the office. I thanked her, hung up, and decided to get some food before I went in. There was a little diner, kind of like the one last night, about three blocks away, on the way to work, and I thought I’d stop in there for a quick bite.

The diner was in that perpetual state of busy that I’m sure their owners just love. There was a booth open, and a few stools at the counter, but most of the rest were occupied by people. I saw cops and firefighters, a pair of dime-a-dance hookers from the pay ballroom a few blocks away, more truck drivers than you could shake a stick at, and other people that I couldn’t stick in a group.

I looked around, trying to decide if I wanted a booth or to sit next to someone at the counter. I was about to opt for the counter when I saw Max sitting in a booth toward the back. I paused for a second, unsure if I should approach him or not, and then decided to go for it. I walked back to where he was and stood beside the table. I ahemed and he looked at me, a bit surprised.

“Hi, Max,” I said. “Mind if I sit with you?” I smiled at him, even though he was giving me the creeps for some reason.

“Uh. Sure. Go ahead and sit,” he said, pointing at the bench across from him. I sat and snatched out a menu from behind the spotted and greasy napkin holder. I looked at it’s dirty, laminated lists of food like it was a titty magazine and I hadn’t seen a woman in weeks. Everything sounded amazing this morning. Maybe it was the excitement of the night before. I’ve never had that sense of…hunger…again, though, so I don’t know for sure.

“The, uh, the coffee’s really good,” Max muttered, not looking up from the notebook he was flipping through. I glanced up at the sound of his voice and noticed he had hardly touched his food. He had ordered a plate of scrambled eggs, some toast and jam, a couple of sausage links, and the “really good” coffee. Didn’t look like he had drank much of that, either. He noticed me looking at his still full plate, smiled a sheepish smile, and took a big bite of eggs. He chewed mechanically and swallowed a few seconds later. It all looked very uncomfortable.

“Yeah. I’ve had that before. I’m so damn hungry today. Not sure why. Maybe I’ll have some waffles.”

The waitress came by, a cute redhead with a short skirt. I was suddenly hit with equally gaping hungers not in my stomach and I stared for a few moments. Finally I folded up the menu and told her my order. She smiled at me, jotted a few things down, then walked off to get the coffee pot.

“She’s cute,” I said to Max, hoping to start some — any — conversation. He just grunted in reply and I gave up for the time being. She came back — her nametag said Cindy — and poured some coffee into the cup already sitting on my side of the table. When it was full, I thanked her and she smiled at me again. When she walked away, I noticed her glancing over her shoulder at me. She smiled again when she saw me watching her walk away and blushed.

Max and I sat there, in silence, for at least five minutes. I watched cars drive by on the street outside and a couple of people pull into the narrow parking stalls for the diner. I swapped views between Max and the outdoors until I couldn’t take it any longer.

“You ever going to say anything or just keep your nose buried in that pile of words?” I said it a bit louder than I meant to and Max jumped a little.

“Wh — What?” he said.

“That book. You’ve had your nose buried in it since I sat down. Aren’t you even going to talk to me?”

“You joined me, remember,” Max asked. “If you want conversation, try someone at the bar. He went back to reading whatever was in his notebook. I sat there for a few more minutes, then slid out of the booth, picked up my coffee cup and saucer, and walked over to one of the empty stools at the counter. I caught Cindy’s eye and pointed to the stainless steel pole and padded seat, letting her know I was sitting here now. She nodded and smiled a little smile again.

I sat there, still not talking to anyone, watching Max over the top of my coffee cup when I took a sip. He was still just sitting there, reading, occasionally writing something down.

Cindy brought my breakfast before too long. Bacon, fried eggs, hashbrowns, and four pieces of toast, lightly browned. I started eating right away, ravenous from the night before (or whatever had caused this pit in my stomach). It didn’t take me long to shovel my way through the plate of food in front of me and a couple of cups of coffee. It was really good coffee, too, not like I expected. I ordered a piece of chocolate pie after I had finished with breakfast. I ate the pie more slowly, then sat and drank another cup of coffee.

Max still hadn’t moved from his spot and hadn’t touched any more of his food. I was a little worried about my old friend. I started wondering if he had gotten himself in trouble at school or something. Maybe he failed a class or knocked some mouse up. I didn’t want him to fail at what he obviously wanted so badly, but I didn’t know of anyway to help him.

I got up to pay and Cindy walked over to the register to check me out. She rang it up and took my money, handing me my change slowly so our hands touched for a second. She smiled at me and said softly, “I get off at three. Why don’t you stop by then?” I smiled and nodded. I walked out of the diner after dropping a fifty cent tip for her on the counter.

I walked down the street, happy with thoughts of girls and money. When I got to the office, I went in and found Ray sitting in the lobby. He looked worried and I asked him what was wrong.

“Oh. Nothing. Nothing you need to worry about, anyway. So, how did it go last night? Manuel and Lucca told me their ends of it, but both of those are pretty lacking. What happened with Simon?”

“Simon got — well, gut shot. Wasn’t really anything I could do. I killed the bastard that got him, though. His name was Ricky, I think. Yeah, that’s what the other guy said. Did Lucca tell you about him? The guy in the van?”

“Yes, Lucca told me about him last night. We sent some people over and they took care of everything. Nothing left for you to worry about. Oh, and Lucca left you something.” He pulled out a brown bag and handed it to me. It was heavy. “Your share of the money you guys found in the car. One thousand even. We gave you clean money, too, just in case. Small bills.” He looked a bit troubled at giving me the money.

“Hey! Thanks, Ray.” I sat the bag down on the floor and sat in one of the chairs next to Ray. “So, last night. It went well. We watched the place until they all arrived, or at least as many as we cared to have there, and then we went in. The place couldn’t have been set up better for us; van blocking the back garage door, two unmanned alleys, no lights. It was perfect. They almost found us out, but Lucca and his shotgun took care of that. Simon and I went in to get rid of the rest of ‘em. The first one we met, Simon cold-cocked, but he wasn’t out all the and he shot at us. Got me in the shoulder, so I shot him. Three times.” I looked at Ray at this point, but he was just watching me. I went on.

“Simon ran ahead while I shot the first guy. He followed another one, Ricky, up the stairs. I guess Ricky got the drop on him and shot Simon in the stomach. I followed up the stairs as fast as I could and Simon told me he had ran on upstairs. Seems like a stupid thing to me, but that’s what he did. I ran after him to the fourth floor. He tried to brain me with a knockout stick but I ducked and tackled him. We rolled around and he threw my gun away from me. He was going to kill me, but I managed to knock him down again. And then I killed him.”

“How did you kill him?”

“I, uh, I beat him to death. With a, uh, two-by-four. I didn’t really realize what I was doing at the time, but…well, that’s what I did.”

Ray was staring at me, his eyes glowing. He had a half-smile on his face and he seemed a little glazed over.

“Ray?” I said. I said it again, louder. He startled a bit, then smiled.

“Sorry, I was just picturing it. I always wanted to do the glamorous bits, the strong arm stuff. I just wasn’t cut out for it.”

“It’s not all that glamorous,” I said. “It’s pretty dirty, really.” He didn’t seem to believe me, so I went ahead with my story. “So, then I went back down and saw that Simon had died. I couldn’t really do anything for him, but I closed his eyes and did what I could. Then I went out and found Lucca with the last guy. I never did find out what his name was…. If I did, I don’t remember it, anyway. We found out nothing from him, but we put him in the van for safe-keeping anyway. I guess your guys got more out of him when they picked him up. Anyway, that’s about it. We just came home afterward.”

Ray nodded. “You like doing this? The killing and all?” He looked at me with a strange mixture. He seemed to find the idea truly exciting and disgusting at the same time. I’ve seen this mix on the faces of several of the bosses. It’s dangerous, in it’s own way.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I don’t like killing any more than anyone else, but I don’t hate the work. It’s…exciting. It’s a thrill like no other.” I stared down at my shoes, suddenly embarrassed. “I can’t really understand it all, Ray. I just like doing it. Why?”

“Well, some of the boys we’ve had before have wanted to quit when they saw how it all goes. They wanted out after the first drop of blood. We let ‘em out. No way we can keep ‘em in, if they really want to go.” He paused.

“I don’t want to go, Ray! I like it here. You’re all I have.” I felt like crying — big man I am, huh? — at the thought of leaving my home for the past seven years of my life. “I like this job.”

“I know you do, kid. I never really thought you’d be one to leave. I was just making sure.” He stood up and handed me a rubber band-bound stack of bills. “Here’s your pay for last night. Be careful with it.”

I thanked him, got up and left. I was suddenly rich, richer than I had ever thought possible back when living with my old man and my mom. I did what any newly-rich young man did. I spent it.

Posted in 2004 Novel, Uncategorized | No Comments »