Devil Awaiting (part 1)

Prologue

All I could think about was the SEARING pain surging from my shoulder and through my body as I fly face down onto the pavement. I couldn’t feel the pool of hot blood suffusing on the cold street. I couldn’t think about why my partner would sell me out. I couldn’t feel the cut on my head from when I hit the ground. I couldn’t worry about them killing Alexandra. BOOM Then a second bullet hit my back like a sledgehammer and everything went black. No sound, just a voice in my head. Time to die, Adam. Don’t want to keep the Devil waiting.

- 1 -

My eyes open wide and I jolt upright. I’m still alive and I’m in a hospital bed. Hell wouldn’t look like a hospital. I take a look around. Where are the cops? They must be curious about who put a bullet in my… wait, no pain… I feel my chest and stomach. Scars. How long have I been here? I start looking for a calendar. There isn’t one, so I lean forward and grab the chart from the front of my bed.

Date admitted: 01/19/2009
Name: John Doe
Address: ____________
Insurance No.: ____________
Phone: _______________
DOB: __/__/____

So they don’t know who I am. I wonder if anyone knows I’m missing. Anyone who would have reported me is either dead or tried to kill me. With friends like these. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter either way. They should have finished the job, because NOW they’re ALL going to DIE.

“01/20/2009: Patient was admitted for multiple gunshot wounds to the torso. He was suffering severe internal bleeding of the stomach and kidneys and heavy external blood loss…”

Blah blah blah… How long have I been here, goddamnit!!! I flip the pages to get to the end. There were a lot of pages. Finally I get to the last one and read the last vitals report. August 26th. Seven months. Seven motherfucking months I’ve been in a coma. They all think I’m dead. Surprise, surprise, motherfuckers.

I pull the IV out of my arm, pull the catheter out (this might have been as bad as getting shot), and rip off all of the electrodes they have me hooked up to. It’s four in the morning. Graveyard shift. Perfect. I sway a little as I climb out of bed. There was another empty bed in the room. I peek my head out and see that the hallway is empty. It must be my lucky day. I pop out into the hallway. Nobody is around so I walk one direction. I find a fire-escape plan and study it. To the left, at the end of the hallway, down the stairs to the ground floor, through the side parking lot and onto freedom.

-2-

I make it to the parking lot with no trouble. Now, to get out of here and get out of this fucking gown. It’s a warm, quiet night but the breeze is blowing the hospital gown all over the place. I sneak around the corner to the side near the entrance. Two cars are in the patient lot for the ER. I sneak up to one of them, a red Mustang. Locked. I try the big black Navigator next to it. Jackpot. I climb in the back and look around. No keys, no wallet. SHIT. I look into the window for the waiting room and see two guys in there. Both dressed pretty well. I sit quietly behind the seat for at least an hour, then I see them shake hands and one of them heads toward the exit. Get in this one, you bastard, get in this one.

He passes the Mustang and goes toward the driver’s side of the Navigator. I duck behind the seat. He gets in and starts the car, and puts on some god-awful hip-hop music. The car starts backing out, Thanks for the ride. Get me the fuck out of here.

The drive doesn’t last long and he pulls into a parking lot. I have no idea where, but at least I’m not in the hospital anymore. He puts the car in park and turns the keys to shut off the engine. That’s when I spring up behind him and wrap my arm around his neck, cutting off the blood circulation to his head with my bicep and forearm. He has a look of absolute shock as he struggles hard, but a moment later he is slumped down on the seat, limp and unconscious. I keep the hold for an extra second or two to make sure he stays out.

“Wrong place, wrong time, buddy.” I say to him as I hop up to the front and start taking his clothes off, “Nothing personal.”

-3-

His clothes are a little baggy but I make them work. At least the shoes are my size. I get out of the car and take off. I’m about three blocks away before I realize where I am. It’s a Frat house, only a few blocks to downtown. Perfect. I slow my pace and pull the wallet out of the back pocket of my newly acquired blue jeans. Travis Candler is the name on the license. Inside I find a credit card, two pieces of paper with girls’ names and phone numbers written on them, a blockbuster card, and $183.00 cash. This I can deal with. I head toward the 24-hour waffle house and Travis treats me to a Denver Omelet with coffee, OJ and a big side of bacon. I grab a newspaper and read the headlines. Today, apparently is the first day of Student Welcome Week at the University. No classes and a week of wild partying. College students drinking all night. Perfect if you want to make someone disappear.

After breakfast I head toward campus. It’s after seven now. The sun is up, and the buses are running. I take a bus over to the mall and go into the sporting goods store. I make a bee-line to the hunting section and scan the knives. All I can think about is how I would do it with each knife. I pick out a small lockblade knife and a big hunting knife. I grab the pocket cases and head toward the counter. Down to $100.

I buy a black hooded sweatshirt, black skull cap, black sweatpants, black gloves and a cheap black gym-bag before I leave the mall. It felt strange. I didn’t really think about what I was doing. I just kept moving. I hardly even thought about what I needed. It was like I had been planning this for the entire seven months. Then I walk a few blocks to the hardware store. I buy a swiss army knife with a lockpick and a pair of sunglasses. I throw everything inside the backpack. $10.00 left.

Back on campus, I head to one of the dorms and walk through to the bathroom. I duck into one of the stalls and pull the knives out. I stick the lockblade in my shoe. The hunting knife I leave in the bag. Then I cross the street and buy coffee, a bottle of water, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. And I’m down to $0.23.

-4-

I step back to the dorm, sit down at a picnic table and light one up. It is excellent, relaxing my whole body in the first drag. I sip on the coffee. It wakes my mind up and thoughts come flooding into my head. I close my eyes and think hard for the first time in seven months. She must be dead. If they killed me, she would have made them take her out. She would have been after them like I am. I could feel a pit forming in my stomach as I realized I would never see my fiancée again. We’ve lived together ever since we graduated. We should have been married that June. Sami. You mother-fucker. Best-man my ass. The sad thing is it doesn’t surprise me. Sami’s a good liar with a sociopath’s conscience. That’s what made him so good at scams and that’s why he was my partner. So I find Sami. Sami sold me out and he’ll tell me exactly who it was he sold me out to. I can always tell when Sami is lying. Almost always, can’t forget the time he had me killed.

-5-

Time to head over to Sami’s place. I hop on the campus bus. I know Sami lives in the penthouse of the apartment right on the corner of campus. Before all of this it was our penthouse on the corner. Soon it will be nothing but a crime scene. With three stops left I start to get excited. With two stops left I can feel myself becoming focused. My mind locks on where I am and what I need to do. With one stop to go I can barely contain myself. When the bus comes to a stop I rip a cigarette to calm myself. It doesn’t help. I sit down on the bench and focus. I clear my mind, letting all of my senses collect themselves. I inhale the cigarette and blow the smoke out, like blowing the clouds out of my mind. I take in a breath of the warm summer air and breathe slowly. I keep my mind clear of thoughts until I finish my cigarette.

I drop the butt and twist it out with my foot. I look up at the building next to me and from there to the top of the building caddy corner. Right there it is. The big round penthouse overlooking the edge of campus that I used to call home. I cross the street and head down the alley two houses behind the corner. I cut behind them and cross the street toward the back stairs of the apartments. The units all have a walking balcony that connects them all in a horseshoe shape spread around a parking lot down in the middle. I cut around the end of the horseshoe and climb the stairs two at a time up to the third floor. Once there I peer out down the hall. No one there. I walk down the hall trying to look casual. This is harder than it sounds because the intense, burning rage and the indurated, unyielding determination made me feel like I was the goddamn Cloverfield Monster on a march of destruction.

I stop outside the penthouse and put my ear to the door. Silence. I slowly twist the handle and it isn’t locked. Sami you dumbass. I thought I taught you better than that. I push on the door and it creeks open. I close it as quietly as I can behind me and walk down the entrance hall. Standing in the entrance, I take a look around my old home. There is the kitchen to the right, and the huge open living room in front of me with the giant TV in the corner. The second level is a balcony overlooking the living room and the bedrooms are upstairs behind the balcony. Sami is up there. It’s hard not to just drop onto one of the couches. It feels like just yesterday that I lived here. The months being fed intravenously feel like a second to me, and I start to feel relieved as you do when you get home from a hard day at work (not that I would know what that felt like). It’s hard to accept that I’m only going to stay long enough to get what I need. I know Sami is still here though. We had already signed the lease to rent it for another year before he decided our time living together would end. Enough of this nostalgia shit. Time to get down to business.

-6-

I set my gym bag on the table and open it. I put on the baseball cap with the bill down over my eyes. I carefully pulled the gloves on and pulled the hunting knife out of my bag and attach it to my belt. Time to face the music, Sami. I walk to the far wall with the spiral staircase. I go up slowly, deliberately. I walk down to Sami’s room. Third door on the left. Same as always. I open his door slowly and walk inside. There’s the bed, right in the middle of the room. Two bodies are under the sheets. I walk up to the side of the bed and there’s a sexy little blonde spooning my old roommate. I kick the side of the bed. She stirs a little. I put my hand on her shoulder and push little. She wakes up and slowly turns over. When she sees me she lets out a little gasp. It would have been cute under other circumstances.

“Get out.” I command with a face as serious as death.
“What?” she says looking confused, scared, and embarrassed all at the same time.
“GET OUT.” I don’t really raise my voice, just emphasize my words. I sound dangerous. I sound powerful. I sound pissed. Blondie immediately gets up and throws her shirt on and looks around for her pants. I grab some shorts off the floor and throw them at her and point to the door.
“What the fuck?” comes a groggy voice from the bed.

“OUT!” I yell to the girl as she staggers out the door like a rabbit scurrying away from a dog.
“What the fuck?” The voice says again as its owner turns over, a bit more quickly.
“Howdy, partner.”

He starts to sit upright but I throw my hand around his neck and slam him back down on the bed. I hop onto the bed with one knee right on top of his bicep. He puts his other hand up and tries to push me off, but I just grab his wrist in a joint lock and twist. Hard. It takes longer than it does in the movies, but if you want to break a guy’s arm you’d better do it right. He starts yelling a second or so before I hear the snap, then he really lets loose. I have to push on his trachea until he shuts the fuck up.

“You’re a loud hindi piece of shit, aren’t you?” I say calmly, once I’ve cut off his airflow enough to sufficiently shut him up. I let off for a moment to let him collect himself.
“Fuck! My arm! You broke my fucking arm!” his agonizing yells boring into my head. I’d never done anything like this before. Then I see his eyes widen in shock.
“Adam…” he says weakly, “what the fuck… you’re dead…”
“Not quite as dead as you’d think.”
“Wha…”
“You can shut up now. I need to ask you a few questions.”

-7-

My voice sounds like icy steel but there’s an air of mocking conversation in it as I continue.

“Who helped you set me up? I know it wasn’t those stupid fuck coke dealers we were meeting at Smallwood so WHO THE FUCK WAS IT?”
“Goddamn, Adam I didn- AAHRG” He sputtered as I punched his broken arm with my free hand.
“No bullshit you fucking Judas! Was it Cameron or was it that spic Castillo?”
“Get the fuck off me and I’ll tell you goddamnit!” He begged. I decided I had caused the scum enough pain for the moment so I got up and stood over him. I spy a half full bottle of Grey Goose on the dresser so I grab it and hand it to him. He grabs it and takes a long pull from the bottle.

“Now who was it?”
I wait a second and he just sits there cradling his arm.

“Look, Sami, I don’t give a shit about you. You don’t have the balls or the brains to pull off replacing me and I want to know who was behind it. They killed Alexandra. I need to know who and I need to know why. I need to get them back, and I need your help to do it. I’m not going to kill you, because I need your help.”
“How’d you find out about Al?” he stammered back.
“You just told me. But I already knew. She would have raised hell and maybe taken someone else out if they didn’t. They knew it. She was in on every deal and she didn’t mind breaking some skulls or tearing shit apart.”
“I didn’t know they’d get her too, I swear I didn’t.” he says desperately.

“I know you didn’t. Here, have a cigarette.” I say as I take two out and light them, then hand one to Sami.
“Thanks.”
“Now,” I say, “Who the fuck set me up? Why did they do it?”
“It was Castillo. He said you were taking too much of the action, said you were getting too big.” He said, shaking and nervous and almost in tears as he sucked on his cig. “He said I could take your cut out of the sales if I flipped you. All he wanted was the chemists and he said in exchange I could have the whole Jew market once we moved that stuff to Smallwood. They were his boys that ambushed you in that alley.”

“And the girls?”
“He said someone else was going to take over the girls. He said he’d buy Al out once you were gone. I told him he was nuts to try and deal with her without you but he said he could do it. I didn’t know he was going to kill her, Adam, I swear.” He says it so pathetic and pleadingly I almost feel sorry for him.
“Allright,” I say, looking satisfied. “Where’s the stash?”
“Same place it always was, the humidor in your room.”
“Okay, let’s get it,” I say as I grab his good arm and stand him up. I start moving him toward the door when he pulls away from me and reaches down to his nightstand and grabs for the drawer.
“Sami you stupid Hindi fuck!” I yell as I grab the hunting knife off my hip and jam it into his thigh. I let go of the blade and grab the vodka bottle as he screams. One of the many benefits of sound proof walls, I think as I whip the bottle into the side of his head. He flies sideways and hits his face on the bed, then rolls off the side and falls face down on to the floor, unconscious. Blood spatters all around as I pull the knife out of his leg. He’s knocked out and bleeding from his leg and his head. I check his pulse. It’s very weak. Don’t even take a chance. They left you for dead and they won’t live to regret it. I reach down and pull his head back by his hair. I pull the knife across and make long slit diagonal across his throat. See you in Hell, partner.

-8-

I stand back up and take a deep breath. I step over Sami’s body and open the drawer he was reaching for. Inside was a prescription bottle, a wad of bills, and a Smith and Wesson .357 revolver. Sami, since when are you a cowboy? I grab the money and the gun and notice that there are a few lines chopped up and ready to go on a mirror sitting on the nightstand. I roll up one of the dollar bills and bump a line. Immediately I feel my head start rushing and it is amazing. I just killed a man. I’ve never done that before. And it was my old partner. Nothing can stop me. I’m like the fucking Angel of Death. You’re next Castillo, and there’s not a Goddamn thing you can do about it. I have no idea where to find the bastard. I have no idea how many wannabe gangsta spics he was using as bodyguards and dealers. I have no idea what to expect. But I’m fucking ready.

I pick up the bedsheet and wipe the blood off of my gloves. My clothes are covered in blood spatter. I turn and open up his dresser. I take out a white T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. I grab the Aviator shades off the dresser, and then go over to the closet. I get a black button down shirt off of a hanger, and grab the black leather jacket hanging on the rack. That piece of dogshit stole my jacket! I wash up, change my clothes and clean my knife in the bathroom and then walk into my room. It’s almost exactly like I left it, except it looks like Sami had looted it for all it was worth. I open my humidor and pull out the large cigar box inside. I open it and examine the contents. Sami had left me about three ounces of pot, a half ounce of blow, thirty or so ecstasy pills and most of a sheet of acid. I put it all back in the box and head downstairs. I throw all the bloody clothes in a plastic bag from the kitchen, tie it up, and throw it in the bag, along with the box of drugs, the murder weapon, and the .357. I throw the bag over my shoulders and walk out the front door.