The Hitman: Dirty Rotters (3 page)

“
I loved your father from
the first moment I saw him. I have loved no one since. But he’s
gone and I’m here. And I couldn’t stand looking at him and not
being able… I had to move on.”

“
I understand.” I shrank
back into my seat.

She looked at me for a second.
Something dark and painful stole the beauty in her eyes. “I hope
that you never understand.”

“
I’m sorry,
mom.”

She gave me the nod, the half-smile
that said everything was fine but obviously it wasn’t. We were
quiet then.

Fifteen minutes later she said, “We’ll
be there in less than an hour.”

I was seventeen. I had not seen my
grandmother in years. She was old, small, thick, and crabby. She
was tough too. No non-sense. But I guess she had to be. She lived
in the city. Crimes. Cement. Smog. People. Trains. Traffic, both
foot and automobile. I wasn’t sure how Little B managed any of it.
It was no place for the elderly.

I moved the stuffed bag of clothes on
my lap over towards my window enough that I could see clearly out
of the windshield. We were in four lanes of traffic heading south.
Four lanes were heading north, just beyond the wide grassy median
to our left. The expressway had a lot of traffic. It was summer and
everyone was going someplace. Mostly up north, by the looks of it.
The dirt road we had lived on dead-ended at a farm and there were
only a handful of houses so the traffic was nearly nonexistent.
Nothing like what we were in now. I hated it.

I was so caught up in wondering where
other people were going, that I didn’t really understand what was
taking place at that moment. Everything was in slow
motion.

A big red Dodge pick-up truck
traveling northbound blew out a tire, lost control, and veered
sharp across the grassy median. Grass and dirt sprayed into the
air, rubber shot off like shrapnel as the truck slammed into
traffic just ahead of us, then collided with two other cars. My
mother hit the brakes hard, tires were screaming against the
pavement. Everything in the car launched forward to the dash. She
turned left to avoid the truck and we slid like it was
icy.

Then she screamed, loud and terrible.
I saw it then, out her window, coming too fast to stop. My mother
turned to face me, our eyes meeting, locked with the same
horror-filled expression.

Her mouth slowly began to open. She
wanted to say something.

The semi barreled in to her door like
a hammer against a nail. Glass exploded. Black marks were made
against the pavement. We went tumbling. Everything spun wildly out
of control.

My mother went silent.

Darkness.

I awoke in the hospital.

Bright lights in my eyes, long tubes
down my throat. Everything was a blur at first. But I knew where I
was. Doctors and nurses were around me performing checkups and
other tasks. I heard them whisper once they realized I was awake.
Maybe they didn’t think I would awaken. They came closer to me,
talking softly, choosing their words carefully, and asking
questions about how I felt. One of them rushed out. One of the
doctors had a small flashlight and thought to shine the bright
light into my eyes. I closed them right away. I couldn’t move much.
And I couldn’t talk. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be made blind
as well.

There was more talking, some of it was
hushed. A decision was being made. I heard a woman tell me I was
going to be alright. Someone was praying for me, she said. She was
really close to my ear. Her breath was warm. Minty. She sounded
attractive. I opened my eyes and turned as much as I could to see
her. I was wrong. I shut my eyes again. I was told not to move. I
was told not to talk. Maybe they didn’t see the giant tube
contraption sticking out of my mouth. I felt it down my throat. I
felt hot too. And tired.

I thought of my mother then. I opened
my eyes, thinking I would find her in the room. I found only the
minty nurse and a smug, male doctor who was smiling like he had
just won a bet. My mother wasn’t there. The wonder I had was
slipping away quickly. I was drifting back to sleep and I didn’t
care to fight it. My eyelids felt like a ton a piece. The same
nurse that had left came back. A priest was in tow. His face was
stricken with worry. His lips were moving. Questions, I knew. Words
he thought were important.

But I was too tired and I let myself
drift away.

The last thing I remembered seeing was
the priest’s hand reaching down to me, opening up and holding out a
silver necklace with a small cross on it.

I was in another place right
away.

I stood at the edge of a deep ravine,
a gorge. It was deep and black. I somehow knew it was bottomless. A
narrow wood-planked bridge connected to the other side. Behind me
was the car accident. I didn’t look back, but I knew it was there.
I knew a lot of people had been hurt. I knew something had changed
forever.

I stepped onto the wood bridge,
supported by worn, aged ropes, and began to walk. Slowly. I didn’t
bother looking down. I sensed that if I did, the weight of the fear
would pull me down into the abyss. I stared forward at the rocky
cliff face ahead. One foot after the other. Carefully.

A tall, lean figure appeared at the
end of the bridge. He stood waiting for me. My eyes locked onto his
and I kept walking. I felt anxious as if I was expecting to fall
off and become lost down below. It would be so easy. But something
in the figure’s eyes calmed me. I knew who he was then. I had seen
him before. I wasn’t scared anymore. I was nearly there. I wasn’t
going to fall.

I stepped off the bridge into a lush
green pasture, a wondrous field filled with colorful flowers. I
never looked back. I was filled with relief. The figure opened his
arms and I embraced him. I wept uncontrollably.

It was Jesus.

I awoke in the hospital
again.

The lights were dim. The room was
empty. The tube was missing from my throat. I knew it was sometime
in the middle of the night. The air was quiet with a slight chill.
After a few minutes of doing nothing but breathing and staring
straight ahead, I began to test my limbs, to make sure I had them
still. My fingers were first, then my toes. They were there.
Everything in between as well. I was all intact. I took a long deep
breath of relief.

I turned to the right and
saw a jacket slung over a chair. I didn’t recognize it. But the
room was empty and I was suddenly wide awake. I found myself
thinking back to the dream I had. I wondered what it had meant, and
how real it was.
Had I died?

Then the door opened and a nurse
entered, wearing the usual hospital garb: blue pants with matching
shirt and white sneakers. She held a clipboard. She looked
surprised to see me. She was tall and lean, with red hair cut short
and cute. She was far better looking than the last. She smiled and
walked over close.

“
Awake finally. How are you
feeling?” she said.

I nodded. I don’t know why I didn’t
speak.

“
My name is Amber. I’ll be
taking care of you during the nights. Are you thirsty?”

I nodded. My mouth felt like old
paste. I was suddenly very self-conscious of my
appearance.

Amber smiled again. She poured me a
cup of water from the pitcher on the stand, raised my bed so I was
in a sitting position, and handed me a small cup. It was white with
a fancy floral pattern and made out of paper. I took it and slowly
began to drink. The water was cold and refreshing. It hit the
spot.

“
Would you like a Jell-O
cup? Or a popsicle?”

“
No, thanks.” I
lied.

Amber messed with my pillow, I didn’t
mind. She fluffed it up and centered my head ever-so gently. She
had a soft and delicate look to her. I guessed that she was in her
early twenties. Her hands were small and clean. Nails were polished
with a light pink shade. And she smelled nice. It was easy to get
used to. I knew then that I would spend my days sleeping, so I
could be awake during the nights.

“
Well then, do you feel
like having company? There’s someone waiting to see you. She’s been
through an awful lot in the past two days and I promised her that
as soon as you woke I would let her know.”

My mother, I thought. I nodded.
“Sure.”

Amber smiled approvingly. “I will go
get her. Here.” She handed me a small remote with one button. “If
anything happens, just press that button and I’ll be here in a
flash. Okay?”

I nodded again.

“
Okay. I’ll be right
back.”

Another smile, then she walked away. I
could still smell her perfume wafting in the air. I set the remote
on my chest. I had a feeling I didn’t need it. I kept still,
waiting. I thought to myself that I had been lying there for two
days and my mother must be a worried mess. I planned on asking
Amber if she could get a popsicle for my mother. She liked the
orange ones.

It was only a few minutes later when
Amber returned. She stepped in and held the door open. I waited for
my mother to walk in, but it wasn’t her that followed. It was
Little B. She had been sleeping. Pain filled her red-streaked eyes,
and the lids were puffy from crying. Her short grey hair was a
mess. Her face was streaked with tears. Her lips were moving
quickly. I could hear her whispering repeatedly, “Thank you,
Jesus.”

“
Grandma?” I was beside
myself. She looked so in anguish.

Where was my mom?
Sleeping? Shouldn’t they wake her?

Little B’s thick arms were wrapping
around me. I wasn’t sure what she said, she just grabbed a hold of
me tight and kissed my forehead. She was trembling. Her false teeth
were chattering together. She smelled like mothballs.

“
I’m fine, grandma. It’s
okay. Really.” I tried to calm her. I failed. “Where’s
mom?”

Little B pulled herself off of me and
stared over to Amber. The looks that passed between them made me
feel worried.

Amber spoke in a slow and clear
manner. “I can, if you want me to.”

Little B began to nod desperately. “I
can’t…” she trailed off in a blend of sobs and slurred words. Her
stout little body was shaking. Her hands were trembling, taking
mine into them.

Amber moved in close to me. Her blue
eyes were captivating. But the look she gave me let me see that she
was all business now. Her lips separated slowly as she began to
tell me that my mother was dead.

Little B’s voice cried loud, drowning
everything else.

Chapter 3

Three years later, I turned
twenty.

The driver of the car got out and
opened the back door. The man walking hesitated then entered into
the backseat, as if he really didn’t have a choice. The driver shut
the door, returned to his seat behind the wheel, and drove
away.

I had been sitting at my usual spot on
the porch tossing bread chunks to the fat squirrels and just
watching life. Little B’s neighborhood was full of it. It was an
episode of COPS all day long, in any direction I looked. Nothing
like the peaceful country setting I had known all my
life.

At first I hated it. I couldn’t sleep
at night. It wasn’t just the cop sirens, the people screaming, the
gun shots, the car alarms, and the trains. It was all of that. But
there was also a nervousness which wouldn’t settle. It was anxiety
stirring to life once the sun set. It was the reality that at any
moment someone could break in and try to rob or kill us. Little B
had told me once that it could be even worse than that. They could
take us. We would wish then that dying was an option.

Little B had a small, old two-story,
two bedroom house, sitting on a very small chunk of land. Less than
ten feet on either side stood another house. Blocks and blocks of
the same run-down houses, packed together at the edge of the city
like sardines in a can. The environment was in poor condition.
Small businesses were vacant and abandoned. There were no
legitimate prospects legally. By day the parks were empty, save for
garbage blanketing the deep grass. By nightfall they were plagued
with prison-bound folks making shady deals. Teens were buying or
selling drugs, like an all-night pharmaceutical company. Whatever I
could think of, it was there. Anything and everything.

But after thirty months, it all seemed
normal.

Which is why it didn’t strike me as
odd that maybe I had just witnessed a man being abducted. I watched
the car drive to the end of the block, towards the train tracks and
abandoned buildings, turn left and disappear, heading into the
heart of what we knew as the Red Square. I figured it was a drug
deal gone bad. Someone looking to settle a score. Someone out for
what they thought was justice. It had no effect on me. It wasn’t my
business. And around here you didn’t make any friends by calling
the police for anything you witnessed. Best to turn the other way.
Best to keep your mouth shut. Best to wake up the next
day.

It was hectic, twenty-four seven. It
was full of crime and unsolved murders. It was dreary and dirty
with an emotional filth that didn’t wash off.