Darwin stood at the back of the building. He had to get inside. There was no other option left. The sun had dropped past where he normally allowed himself to be outside. He knew, rationally, there was nothing to fear just because it was dark. But that was the thing about a phobia-there was nothing rational about it.
His therapist called it achluophobia. He also diagnosed Darwin with aichmophobia — a fear of sharp or pointed objects, such as needles and knives. Darwin had looked them up and felt he really had angrophobia — a fear of becoming angry. He did horrible, unspeakable things when he got angry. It became a fury without limit. The only things that caused that fury were being in darkness or having something poking and prodding him like a needle or a knife.
Thanks, Stepmom. You’re a real sport. Rot in hell.
The heavy darkness pressed down on Darwin. It closed in tighter. He felt marked distress. His ability to function and think properly grew more difficult by the second. If he didn’t find a door that opened to a lighted area within minutes, he would have no choice but to break the nearest window.
The front of the building was the wrong way to go. Too many people would be near the road. He even saw men running from the Fuccini building’s front doors earlier. If only he could walk through them, step up to Mr. Fuccini and discuss terms.
Yeah, right. Maybe in the Wizard Of Oz, but not here, not now.
After killing another of the Fuccini men, he was sure that Mr. Fuccini would mark him for death, if he hadn’t already.
Darwin ran to the two large, green garbage bins at the back of the building, under a bright streetlight that shined onto them. He looked at the sky, a dark black-blue color, the sun’s presence all but gone.
Rosina, I’m coming for you, baby.
Standing under the light, he scanned the building for a way in. There was one door with a Keep Out sign and a large hole in the wall about seven feet up. The garbage chute, he assumed.
No way am I climbing up through there.
He had to find another way in. Time was running out. The police would be scouring the area looking for the guy who threw Paul into the traffic.
He ran over to the Keep Out door and tried the knob. Locked.
Shit. Think, dammit, think.
A pile of broken skids were piled haphazardly about eight feet high, and he leaned under the chute to look up. It reeked of garbage and looked very black up in there. He knew, even if it had a velvet ladder leading up with a neon Welcome sign beside the hole, there would be no way he would climb into it. Not with how dark it was.
Voices. Men talking. He cocked his ear and listened. They were on the other side of the Keep Out door.
Darwin ran back around the skids, careful to watch for the exposed nails, to the other side of the garbage bin and dropped below sight. The bins were on wheels. At least there was that.
The door opened from the inside. He peeked around the edge of the bin. Bright light poured from the building. A man stood there, a gun in his hand.
He turned back to someone and shouted, “I know, I know, I’m going. You just watch your ass.”
The man kicked something on the door near its bottom and then walked away from it. The door stayed propped open. Darwin got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bin to watch the man’s feet.
He walked to the other bin first with slow, cautious steps. Then, at the last second, the man leapt forward and stared into the bin. “Shit.”
He’s checking the bins. He thinks I’m hiding in the garbage bins.
Darwin watched the man’s feet as they drew nearer the bin he hid behind, and planned his next move.
The man was slow, using extra caution.
Damn it, hurry up. I don’t want to lose my nerve.
The feet paused. Darwin braced himself. The man leapt up and looked inside the bin. As soon as he said Shit, Darwin shoved the bin hard.
It rolled forward faster than he thought it would, and he almost lost his balance. It was only six feet to the brick wall of the building and, to the man’s credit, he stayed on his feet all the way.
The bin stopped, almost as fast as it had started, with a crunch and a shout.
Keeping low to avoid any wayward bullets, Darwin raised his fists and approached the man. The man’s gun lay on the ground two feet from him. Darwin picked it up, checked the safety and flicked it off right away. Thanks, Paul.
He pointed the weapon at the man. The time for niceties had ended.
But the man was already dead.
Darwin couldn’t believe it. How did he die? Wait, how many men am I going to kill in one day?
He eased the garbage bin off the wall. When the bin had pushed the man into the pile of wooden skids, at least six or seven rusty nails had made their home in the back of the man’s head. but that didn’t seem to be the killing blow.
A large, sharp piece of wood had sliced the man’s neck sideways as he fell across it, digging a few inches deep. Blood covered the man’s shoulder and dripped all the way down to the cement. He died quickly. The nails embedded into his skull had kept him quiet.
Darwin couldn’t believe his luck. Without wasting a moment, he turned and entered the building, the gun in his hand held high. He kicked the stopper on the door and shut it quietly behind him.
He was in. And there was light.
Rosina was here somewhere and he wouldn’t hesitate again. He wouldn’t try to intimidate these men again. They were hardened beyond that. He had been brought here like cattle to the abattoir and he didn’t even know it. The joke was on him, but now that he had the upper hand of surprise, nothing would stop him from getting his bride back.
He ran for the middle of the building where he supposed the elevators were. He knew what Paul said about the elevators being locked out of service was probably true, but no one ever thought of the service elevator. The one contractors used for equipment and supplies was almost never locked unless men were working on the building. But it was after nine in the evening. He doubted anyone was still working.
He rounded each corner with caution, his new weapon at the ready. He’d encountered no one by the time he found the elevators. Just to fuck around, he hit the buttons and ran away, looking for the freight one.
Two doors away from the elevators, someone stepped out behind him. Darwin spun around and squeezed the trigger to the point where the weapon almost fired. He held off and watched as the man tiptoed down the corridor, oblivious to Darwin in the middle of the hallway.
The man turned a corner without looking back. Darwin started breathing again. He may want to approach the bad guys without caution and show them who’s boss, but he didn’t want to start that by shooting one of them in the back.
He turned around and hustled down another corridor, his running shoes almost soundless on the tiled floor.
To his relief, the freight elevator was right where he thought it would be. He recognized the larger door right away.
He pushed the button and the cables and pulleys whirred into gear. As it came down, he kept his back to it and watched the hallway.
The amateur in the building with hired hit men was not the role he envisioned on his honeymoon, but nor did he think his new bride would be kidnapped. He had to do whatever he could. There was no turning back. He only wished he had Greg with him. Someone trained in this kind of thing.
The elevator motors slowed. He turned, prepared for anyone coming out.
The doors slid open to reveal an empty lift. He jumped in and pushed the top button, and then hit the close door button.
Immediately, the door began closing. He watched the hallway until the last second, but no one appeared.
He knew a certain number of the Fuccini men would file out of the building to look into the accident out front. He had a feeling that resistance would be at a minimum and for the ones inside still, they would fear him more than Paul did. They would think of Big John, then they would see Paul and think this was just the beginning.
What if a small army guarded the top floor? They would have heard the freight elevator and now, as he rode toward them, they would be flipping off their safeties.
At two floors away, as fast as he could, he jammed his thumb into the button below the top one. The freight elevator instantly slowed.
Darwin let out a sigh of relief and stood off to the side to see if anyone waited for him.
His heart in his throat, stomach in knots, the door slid open slowly. The room was cavernous. Dark too. That sealed his decision. He would have to go one more level and take his chances.
But he couldn’t. Going to the next floor could mean walking into an ambush. Getting off the elevator now only meant he needed to deal with the dark. As much as it terrified him, the dark wouldn’t kill him like bullets could.
The door began to shut. He hit the door open button and waited. He knew the right thing to do would be to walk out now and find a way to get up one more floor, but he didn’t know how. It was dark.
He broke out in a clammy sweat. Adrenaline spread through his stomach. Fight or flight set in. He had to fight. For Rosina. This was the way.
The door started shutting. He hit the button. It stopped and slowly opened again.
“Shit.”
Darwin stepped off the freight elevator and into the darkness of a floor under construction and almost fainted.
The door slowly closed behind him. He felt the door was closing on his salvation. All chance of survival was dying with that door.
It took everything in his soul to take one step. At every second, he waited for a knife to prick him, a needle to jab him. He wanted to scream, to shout, to run, but all he could do was take one more step.
Paralysis threatened him. The only cure was chanting the word, Rosina.
Under his breath, he whispered her name and took a step. He whispered it again and took another step. Only the dim red exit signs provided any lights to the whole area.
He wanted to run to an exit and scream until his voice gave out, but he used every ounce of self-control to continue walking, one step at a time.
Three minutes later he made it to the door that led into a corridor. An exit sign illuminated the stairwell in red.
He stepped out, and touched the door handle, ready to twist it and leave the dark floor from hell.
He had no idea how he was still standing. The last time, many years ago, when he had been in a room this dark, he had killed his stepmother. That was so long ago, a distant memory. No one knew he did it, but one day he would tell his wife.
He heard a noise behind him. Darwin spun around and saw the light from the freight elevator as its door opened. Three men exited it, guns drawn, flashlights in their hands.
Shit.
He opened the door to the stairwell and closed it behind him as fast as he could. They were bound to have seen the light from the stairwell. That meant they were on their way toward him now. He couldn’t just run aimlessly through a building he knew nothing about, chased by numerous men with guns. He would never have the time to find Rosina and get her out safely. Even if he ran right into her, the last thing he wanted was to be running from bullets with her at his side.
He had to take a stand.
He hustled up the stairwell to the half-level landing where the stairs turned. Eight more steps up was the door to the floor where they supposedly held his wife. He leaned into the corner so only his eyes could look down and see the top of the door to the dark floor.
He waited, breathing in and out in a controlled manner. He needed to focus, stay lucid.
The gun was heavy in his hand. He had no idea how many bullets it contained or how to fire it exactly. But its weight and knowing to just point and shoot provided Darwin some comfort.
This was it. Do or die. He had an accident and killed a man with his Ford Mustang. That’s something he would have to live with for the rest of his life. But now people were trying to kill him and his bride. And that he could not live with.
It was time to lower himself to their level. It was time to kill or be killed.
He raised his gun when feet scuffled on the other side of the door. Someone spoke muffled words into a radio.
He leaned forward until he could see the door handle. It slowly turned. Then the door moved an inch inwards.
He fell back against the wall to the point where he couldn’t see the door at all, and if they looked up, they’d not see him.
He waited. He breathed, softly, slowly. He waited.
At least two men stepped into the stairwell. He waited.
Then he pushed off the wall, stuck the gun through the metal bars of the railing and squeezed the trigger as hard and as fast as he could. The stairwell lit up with flashes and the sounds of cannon fire. He had never heard such ear-splitting sounds so close before. He tried to keep his weapon trained in the general direction of the three men standing at the open door, but the recoil thwarted him.
Something punched him in the left shoulder. Darwin twisted away from the railing and fell on the landing on his back. He shut his eyes, breathing in rapidly. The guns ceased firing. He heard moans from below. He knew he must have hit some of them. He tried to smile, but pain in his shoulder made him clench his face. He almost moaned himself, but then one of the men below spoke.
“We’re in the south stairwell. I think we hit him. Two men down. I’m not hit. And where the fuck did he get a gun?”
He listened for a reply. After a few seconds, one came, muffled a little through static.
“Approach with caution. He is extremely dangerous. But I warn you, do not come back into my presence if you don’t kill him. Go now and finish the job.”
“On my way.”
Shit.
Darwin kept his eyes closed. He focused on being as still as possible. The man was still at the level below him, so he took one large breath and held it. Then he waited.
Waiting with bated breath, he thought and had to suppress a giggle. Really, in this moment I’m about to laugh. Have I lost my mind?
He knew it had more to do with a coping mechanism. This was like a big game. The smarter one would win. The one who stayed calm, thought things through and looked for a hole, a way in. He was that guy. Being irrational and crazy could work too, but this moment didn’t call for it.
He stayed completely immobile, his weapon in his right hand, his left shoulder screaming in pain now, and focused on the sounds the man’s shoes made as he neared.
As far as he could tell, the man was at or near the top stair. He waited for one more sound. It came, but it almost made him jump and scream.
It was the clicking of metal. The guy had readied his gun.
One, two, three.
Darwin opened his eyes, lifted his gun, screamed and squeezed the trigger, aimed directly at the man’s face.
But his gun didn’t fire. It was empty.
He looked at it, eyes wild. The man smiled and lowered his weapon until he aimed at Darwin’s chest.
As fast as he could move, Darwin lifted up off his back, supported by his elbows and kicked at the gun hand. It made direct contact as the weapon fired. He felt, as much as heard, the bullet race by his right ear. A solid thunk told him the bullet made a home in the wall behind his head.
The guy didn’t lose his grip on the gun.
When Darwin lifted his leg to kick again, it wasn’t aimed at the gun. He twisted his waist and kicked at the man’s chest. He made solid contact as the guy’s gun was coming around for him again.
The guy fell backwards, rolling down the stairs, at a weird, inverted angle.
Darwin used the railing to get to his feet, wailing at the pain in his shoulder. He had no time to inspect the injury. However bad it was, it was exactly that-bad. But it was something to deal with after he stayed alive.
He ran down the stairs, two at a time and jumped in the air, knees extended, toward the man struggling to get to his feet.
Darwin’s knees connected high in the man’s chest, part of his left knee jamming into the man’s throat. Darwin continued forward and bumped the wall with his good shoulder like he’d body checked another hockey player. He stayed upright, all his weight on the man below him.
The guy’s eyes widened. His hands came up and tried to push Darwin off. He couldn’t breathe. His hands flailed, his eyes wide, like a fish flapping on a dock after being pulled from water, mouth agape.
His face turned red and then a darker red, blood vessels in his eyes bursting.
Two weeks ago, Darwin would have been appalled at the violence. But today, something inside him felt good as the man under him succumbed.
“One less piece of shit,” Darwin whispered. He leaned closer and said, “I just made the world a better place and I’m going to keep doing it, one of you at a time.”
He turned and ripped the radio off the guy’s belt and grabbed his gun. He slipped it into the back of his pants and grabbed another gun off the floor.
He looked up the stairs to make sure there were no other surprises and then took a close look at his shoulder. The wound was exterior only. As far as he could tell, the bullet hadn’t entered his body.
He moved his jacket up off the wound and saw a gouge in his skin about the thickness of his finger. It was already clotting, but blood still seeped from the center of the wound. It was big enough to hurt like a bitch, but not big enough to stop him or kill him. Not by a long shot.
“Missed,” he said.
He slipped his jacket gently over his shoulder again and started up the stairs, the gun in his right hand aimed in front of him. At the top of the stairs, he put his ear to the door.
Nothing.
He clicked the radio and couple of times to see if he’d get a response.
Nothing.
Shit, open the door and have a group of men offering me a welcome under a hail of bullets, or do I find another way in?
There was no other way in. He was out of time. They knew he was here. He had no element of surprise. All he had were two guns, one of their radios and a love for Rosina that gave him more willpower than any man loyal to Fuccini.
Sure, they’d use deadly force, but so would he. The nice Canadian image was over. No more mister nice Canadian.
He twisted the knob, ripped open the door and dropped back down two steps to avoid being hit by anything coming through at him.
The door opened to its farthest point, and then slowly came back to shut.
No bullets hailed down on him. No men standing, waiting. Just dead silence, and Darwin in a stairwell opening doors.
He opened it a crack and peeked in at the corridor. Lights filled the hall. Darwin smiled at life’s little pleasures.
He opened the door even more. The hall was empty all the way to the end.
His gun was ready, the safety off. As carefully as he could, he edged around and looked down the hallway the other way.
No one.
Weren’t they expecting me?
He stepped into the hall, having no idea which way to go.
“In here,” someone said.
He jumped and fired his weapon, the bullet shot through a ceiling tile, bits of dust falling.
“Shit. My fucking nerves.”
“There’s no need for that. I’m unarmed,” the voice said.
“Where, dammit?”
“In here.”
He tracked the voice to the open door about five feet from him.
With every bit of caution he could muster, Darwin started for the door. He pressed himself along the wall, slowly peeked around the corner, using one eye to look in the room.
An old man stood with his hands in front of him, clasped together.
Darwin turned into the room a little farther. Another man, unshaven and disheveled looking, stood off to the side by some kind of electrical generator. He was smiling.
“Come on in,” the disheveled man said. He smiled so wide, Darwin thought he looked mad. It was the smile of a lunatic. “Nothing in here to hurt you. Look, we have no weapons.”
Disheveled man lifted his hands in the air. The old man unclasped his and lifted them up too.
“No weapons,” the old man said.
Darwin looked up and down the hallway to make sure he wasn’t about to be ambushed, and then stepped into the room.
That’s when he saw Rosina.
The urge to shoot and kill had never felt so good.
Darwin lifted his weapon and aimed it at the old man.
“Get her down or you die.”
He felt no pain at that moment. He felt steady, calm and ready to murder ten men. Everything in his mind was clear. Rosina hung suspended on chains, and these men had done that to his wife. Her face pale, eyes closed. Remnants of vomit stuck to her blouse.
What have these people done to you, baby?
“There’s no need for further violence,” the old man said.
He turned to the disheveled man and motioned with his finger. A moment later, Rosina was lowered until her feet rested on the ground.
The old man brought his attention back to Darwin. “She is merely unconscious. As you can see, she is unharmed. I can’t say the same for my son.”
A glint in the old man’s eye told Darwin everything he ever needed to know about how the old man, Vincenzo’a father, felt for him. He could see the old man hated him on every level. Deeper than Darwin hated his stepmother and she was already dead.
His arm grew heavy. It wavered a little and then he lowered the weapon.
“Let her go. My wife and I will walk away. This is over. You’re finished. There is nothing left between you and me.”
The old man stared at him and waited.
“What are you waiting for? Let her down or you’ll have another body murdered here. I’ll start with the asshole with the sick grin over there. What’s your answer?”
The disheveled man laughed, a violent, deep chuckle that spoke volumes of the deeply disturbed.
“We are not finished yet,” the old man said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You and me have business. There is a certain debt that is owed to me. I always collect a debt. It has been the way of my family since the beginning of time. I’m not about to make an exception with you.”
“What debt? What are you talking about?”
Darwin stepped closer to Rosina. If and when she woke from her drugged sleep, or whatever it was these men had done to her, he wanted to be near.
“A blood debt.”
“Blood debt? Are you fucked?”
“Actually no, I can’t say I’m fucked. I’d say you are.”
Darwin raised the gun again, aiming it at the old man in the center of the room. “And how’s that?”
“If you shoot me, it won’t end there. If you shoot my Harvester, it still won’t end there.”
Harvester? What the fuck?
“You’re talking in circles, old man. Start making sense.”
The old man nodded to the one he called the Harvester. “Show him.”
The Harvester raised his right hand and displayed a little box with a button on it. “If I push this button, your wife will be jolted with enough electrical volts to not just kill her instantly, but literally burn her on those chains. Her scorched skin will fall off in pieces, like the burned bark of a tree, seared forever.” He smiled that sick grin again. “Are you aware how horrible that would feel?” He said horrible like a child would ask for cotton candy at the fair: a certain childish glee. It almost made him hop on the spot.
“You’re sick. The both of you are fucking gone. But,” Darwin raised his hand to make a point, “if you did push that button, I would execute the both of you. So who walks out of here? Huh? Ask yourself the real question: do you want to die today?”
The old man shrugged. “I’m old. I’m already dying and since you killed my only boy, I’m dead on the inside. You have killed me, Darwin Athios Kostas.”
“Don’t!” Darwin snapped. “Don’t you ever say my name like that again. Do you hear me? Never, or this ends for all of us.”
His eyes were wild, he breathed in and out between his teeth, every fibre in his body begged him to shoot the old man in the eye. He said Rosina’s name and held the animal urges at bay.
“Fair enough. I will not use your name for the duration of this meeting.”
How the hell does the old man stay so fucking calm. It’s like he knows something. He’s got the look of someone who has already won. That’s it. He thinks he’s won. This is his end game.
“But I want something from you.”
“What?” Darwin asked, his teeth still tight together. He had to think. He had to keep them talking. Rosina’s safety was first. He had to end this on his terms and he had to do it fast.
“I want you to set your weapons down and kick them over to me. I am an honorable man. Do this and I will have your wife released from that machine’s chains. Do we have a deal?”
“Are you fucked?”
“No, I am not. Do we have a deal?”
Darwin tried to clear his head. Could he see any other way out of this? A button push could take place in under a second. If that happened, he couldn’t even touch his wife or he’d be electrocuted with her.
So what then? Shoot both men and hopefully have a perfect shot, each time?
They had him and they knew it.
“You will unhook her? You’ll keep your word?”
“It is all I have. My word.”
Darwin felt he was out of options. He leaned down, set one gun on the floor and then kicked it away.
“The other one too.”
How did he know about the gun in the back of my pants? Cameras in the stairwell?
“No. There’s two chains holding Rosina. Unhook one for one.”
The old man considered this and then turned and nodded to Harvester.
Harvester? What kind of name was that? What an asshole.
Darwin watched as he pushed a switch on a small control panel. Rosina was lowered to the ground. When she was spread out on her back, the Harvester pulled one chain off her arm. He stood, leaving the other connected, the little button held up with his thumb on it.
“If we stop here, you’ll have done worse damage to your wife,” Harvester said. “With only one connection, she’ll still die by electrocution, but it’ll take longer.” He grinned. “There’ll be more agony, more screaming and the smell of melting flesh will be…” he stopped when he looked at the old man.
“Enough. Now, the other weapon.”
Darwin saw the Harvester raise the button to give him a better view of it.
Then did what he hoped he wouldn’t live to regret. He reached into the back of his jeans and produced the weapon. He set it on the floor and then kicked it over to the old man.
He waited for the Harvester to push the button. But he didn’t. He took the mechanism out of his hand, set it down and walked over to Rosina, where he knelt down and unhooked her from the last chain.
“I keep my word, Darwin. Now, we can talk with less tension.”
He was stalling. More men were coming. Somehow, this is a trap.
Darwin started to feel locked in. He needed to get out, run. He needed to take Rosina and run away as far as he could.
For the first time since he was a kid, he wanted to run out into the dark night.
“What could we possibly have to talk about?”
“The debt,” the old man said.
“The debt? What debt?”
“Your blood debt you owe me.”
The old man nodded at Harvester and then Harvester reached behind a small counter that was littered with metal tools of some kind and brought out a machete covered in what looked like blood.
Oh, great, they don’t even clean their tools, was all that went through Darwin’s mind. The familiar stirrings of violence that accompanied the sight of a blade built inside him.
He backed up.
“You will bleed from as many places on your body as we can open. Then I will have you chained up, upside down, your legs spread wide. Two of my men will use a saw to cut you open from the groin down, until the blade hits your heart. In that position, blood rushes to the brain, keeping you alive through most of the cutting. Quite the experience, really.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw the old man picking the guns up. He was defenseless. This mobster had disarmed him, and now they were the ones in power.
All he had was his wits.
At least he did his best for Rosina.
Harvester was really grinning now. He stepped closer, swinging the blade in his hand.
“I love sawing men in half. Only got to do it a couple of times. You’re going to be so much fun.”
To defend himself the best way he knew, with no weapon of any sort, Darwin reached down and slipped out of his brand new jacket and held it to the side. It wasn’t too thick, but it was better than nothing.
“What’s this?” Harvester asked.
“You wanna cut me? Here I am.”
The old man stepped toward the door. “Cut him up, cut him bad. But Harvester, don’t kill him.” And then he stepped out of the room.
Darwin wrapped the jacket around his left forearm. Harvester was four feet away and stepping closer.
“You really are a piece of work. Rarely do I get to meet someone so interesting,” Harvester said.
Darwin didn’t respond.
This was it. He’d held himself together as long as he could. He’d thought of his best response to dealing with the situation at hand, and now, with nothing to lose, Darwin could allow everything to flood through.
All the fury and anger from his childhood, everything he ever hated about his stepmother and all the people who had hurt his wife today, boiled to the surface, hit the top and overflowed into a madness so blinding and all-encompassing, a small part of him worried if he could ever regain normalcy again.
He screamed, grabbed his wounded, bleeding shoulder, and covered his hand in blood. He then wiped it on each cheek as if it were war paint, and said, “Let’s fuck around a little, you piece of fucking rat shit.”
The Harvester hesitated and looked into Darwin’s face. The moment of indecision was over as fast as it showed itself.
Harvester lunged forward, the blade held high.
Darwin threw his covered left arm at the blade and ducked under it, his right hand going for Harvester’s throat.
He clamped on, oblivious of where the blade was now, and squeezed with inhuman strength on Harvester’s windpipe.
In that moment, raw strength pulsed through him, the kind that mothers use to pick cars up off their babies. He tightened his grip so hard and so fast that he dislodged Harvester’s Adam’s apple. He pushed forward and tightened his grip again, screaming in the madness of the moment.
Harvester flailed his arms and lost his balance as he was thrust backwards, dropping the blade and trying to dislodge Darwin’s hand. At that point, nothing but the claw end of a hammer would release the grip.
Even though his eyes bulged from the pressure, the Harvester smiled. Harvester’s sickness fueled Darwin’s rage.
Their forward momentum tossed them to the floor, Darwin landing on top of the Harvester. As he rolled to the side his hand dislodged from the man’s throat. The Harvester was up on his knees in a flash, trying to learn how to breathe again.
Darwin rolled away and bumped into the tool tray. A metal grip lay beside his head. On the other end of the grip was a bar, similar to a police baton, but with long metal spikes. He almost didn’t touch it when he saw the spikes, but knew he needed to be rash here. He needed to use a sharp implement of some kind to end this.
Darwin grabbed the smooth handle and spun around, but he was too late.
Harvester brought his fist down onto Darwin’s wounded shoulder. He screamed and gagged on the phlegm that had collected in his throat.
The Harvester raised his fist again when Darwin, in awe that he held something sharp in his hand, swung it in a clean arc.
The four-inch spikes embedded in the side of the Harvester’s skull, one punching through his left eye, deep inside his head.
Harvester moaned, mumbled something, and sat down. With his good right eye, he found Darwin lying on his back in front of him. It almost looked like he couldn’t figure out who Darwin was.
Then he lost his balance and lay out on the floor, his right eye staring up at the ceiling.
Darwin got to his feet, his shoulder screaming, and looked over at Rosina. She was awake, watching in frightened silence.
Darwin stepped over to the Harvester. The eye met his. Blood dripped out of the four holes in his skull. The Harvester grinned. “That hurts a little,” he said.
“Goodbye,” Darwin said and lifted his foot. He brought it down hard and almost crushed the weakened side of the Harvester’s skull, blood and bits of brain leaking out onto the floor.
Darwin unwrapped the jacket from his forearm and discovered the cut the machete had made. Harvester had gotten in one good hit.
Damn, that’s going to need stitches.
He used his right hand to rewrap his arm and stepped over to his bride.
“How about it?” he asked, trying to put on a cool face, his hand extended to help her up. “You ready to finish our honeymoon?”
She got to her feet and leaned into him, crying.
“Let’s get out of here,” Darwin said and then stopped. “Did you hear that?”
She shook her head.
“Sounds like police.” He eased her off his chest and looked in her eyes. “There was an accident downstairs. A man was killed in the street.”
She nodded. “I know. A man named Paul. I heard them talking about it.”
“I’ve done some bad things today. But it was all in my defense. I didn’t hurt anybody that didn’t have it coming. And I’m sorry for trying to send you away. You have to know I was trying to protect you.”
“I know,” Rosina said. “They all had it coming. But why are you telling me this?”
“Because there’s cops out front and if more cops are on their way, that means they’re coming for me. I could be in trouble. Once everything is ironed out, I’ll come out looking clean, but understand, that may take time and until then, unless that old man is out of the picture, our lives won’t be worth much.”
She nodded. “I understand. Let’s find him before we leave.”
With Darwin in the lead, they cautiously stepped into the room where the old man had gone before Darwin and Harvester fought.
The room was empty. Following Darwin’s lead, they both walked the hallway and looked in every room they could. Sirens ceased in front of the building as officers arrived. They were running out of time.
The elevator kicked into gear.
“I’m sorry, Rosina.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You did everything right. You saved me, didn’t you?”
He nodded and held her close, keeping an eye on the hallway.
“Did they hurt you?”
“Not really. I was scared, but they were instructed to leave me alone until they had you. I did see them hurt a man really bad. They ended up killing him.” She looked into Darwin’s eyes. “I’m so glad you killed the Harvester of Sorrow. That man shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
“How does someone get the name Harvester of Sorrow? That’s so fucked.”
The elevator door opened and six Italian police officers stepped out, guns raised at them.
They were ordered to the ground and handcuffed. Then they were led downstairs to the main lobby where the officer in charge, who spoke fluent English, would come any moment.
During their wait, Darwin saw a couple of the Fuccini family men sitting in police cruisers in the front of the building.
A man in a suit and a tie came up to them. The man’s face changed to anger when he saw the handcuffs.
“Officers,” he called out and then shouted something in rapid Italian.
Two cops ran over and undid their cuffs. Darwin checked his forearm cut. Still bleeding.
“I’m so sorry for treating you like this. They don’t know who you are. My name is Marco. I’ll have an ambulance take you to the hospital where we’ll get you stitched up and then I’ll take your statement. How does that sound?”
Darwin nodded at him.
“I got a call from a colleague of mine, Greg Stinsen with the FBI. He told me what was happening and that he’d be here in the morning. He said to offer you all the support I could. These men can piece together what happened here and we’ll leave now. That work?”
The trio walked out to his car, Darwin holding Rosina’s hand tight as the darkness surrounded him.
As the cop pulled away from the curb, Darwin said, “Can you turn on the interior light?”
“Yeah, sure,” the cop said and flicked it on.
Darwin took a deep breath and stared down at his hand, clasped in his wife’s. He didn’t want to look at the windows. All he’d see was blackness and that didn’t help anything.
It was over for now. A lot of men had died, but they were safe for now. They were in police custody and the FBI would arrive soon. Together they’d launch an attack on the Fuccini family to end the vendetta, the blood debt.
“You still need the light on?” the cop asked.
“Yes.” Darwin looked up at the cop in the mirror. The cop smiled, nodded his head, and looked away to focus on the road.
I definitely need to see the light.
He woke in the hospital the next morning, sun streaming through the window’s drapes.
“Rosina?” he called, panicked.
“I’m right here,” she said.
She rose from the chair she’d been in, stretched her arms out as far as they could go, and moaned.
“Sometimes, when I think about what happened yesterday, it almost feels like it was a dream. Then I see your injuries and I know we lived it. But that’s the important part: we lived it. We made it.”
Darwin rested his head back and nodded slowly. “The cop, Marco, is he gone?”
“Yeah. He left after he took out statements, about four in the morning. I just heard from a nurse that Greg called. He’s about five minutes away. Maybe that was what woke you, when the nurse left.”
“What’s next? What are we going to do?”
“You’re going to go home, is what you’re going to do,” Greg said as he stepped into the room.
“Greg!” Rosina shouted and ran to hug him.
“How’s my favorite couple?”
“Great now,” Rosina said. “It’s so good to see a familiar face.”
Rosina stepped away and Greg walked up to Darwin. “What am I gonna do with you?” He smiled, his face beaming. “First you kill Vincenzo, by accident, and then come to Rome to wipe out the rest of his family. Wow, if I hadda known you were like that, we could’ve used you on the force.”
“Greg, it wasn’t like that,” Darwin said. “They keep coming after us. If they had accepted it was an accident in the first place, they wouldn’t have hunted us to Rome. I flew my wife here to get married. I felt they were getting too close to us in Toronto. Death threats, people following me. So here we are, and they try to kill us twice in four days. So I decided to send Rosina to Greece and I’d stay behind to deal with it. But they grabbed her and…”
“I heard from Marco. He told me everything.”
“Doesn’t that guy sleep?” Rosina asked.
“I think he does, but that’s not my concern. What is my concern is getting you home.”
“Home?”
“Yes. I have you two booked on a flight tonight from Rome to Toronto. I can’t protect you here.”
“Didn’t you get clearance or something?” Darwin asked.
“Not really. As a favor, Marco let me see the reports, but the diplomatic channels will take too long for me to do any good here. This is the mafia’s home. I’m only one man, and I don’t speak Italian either. If you’re in Toronto, I have backup and I have a sort of quasi-jurisdiction.”
“Rosina,” Darwin looked over at her. “You’re okay with all this?”
“Of course. I’ve had enough of Rome’s charms. After what happened yesterday, I want to get as far away from here as I can, as soon as we can.”
Darwin looked back at Greg. “Thanks for coming so fast and, yeah, let’s do this.”
“I’ll talk to the doctor and get you checked out, but first, I have to ask you a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did your father ever tell you why he called you Darwin?”
“Yeah, he said he wanted to always remind me to stay motivated and get out of life whatever I wanted. He put two words together to make Darwin. Dare and win. He said, just saying my name was my dare to win.”
“That’s pretty good.” Greg walked over to the hospital room door. “I thought there was another reason. Something to do with survival of the fittest. You know, Charles Darwin and natural selection.”
Darwin smiled. Greg was always high on the compliments.
“There’s one other thing. I hate when I told you to lay low and stay out of sight and then you didn’t. But I’m glad you didn’t. Good work, Darwin. Good work.”
Greg opened the door and made to step out, but his cell phone rang. He hopped back into Darwin’s room and pulled his phone out.
“Not allowed to have these things in the hospital but I gotta take this.”
“Go ahead,” Darwin said.
“Hello, Stinsen here.”
Greg listened, his phone pressed to his ear. His face grew darker, his eyebrows got closer until they connected in a look of consternation.
“Okay, I understand. Send units over to their house ASAP.”
He flipped his phone shut and looked between the two of them.
“I’m sorry. Very bad news.”
“What? Tell us.”
“It’s not over.”
“I didn’t think it would be,” Darwin said as he sat up in bed. His head felt woozy and he leaned back on his good arm. “What is it?”
“Your father,” he said to Darwin. “Adrian has been kidnapped. He was taken from his home an hour ago, according to witnesses. That puts it around six in the morning, Toronto time.” Greg looked over at Rosina. “Whoever’s behind this may be headed to your parents’ house in Brampton too. I have units en route there now. I’m sorry.”