mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
107 lines
3.0 KiB
TeX
107 lines
3.0 KiB
TeX
\chapter{Mac}
|
|
\by{Brolita}
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
This morning, I woke up to find myself dead.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I don't know how it happened, or why. That's why I'm here. Easy
|
|
G's, a dive on the bad side of town. Mac, the guy who runs the
|
|
place, is a good friend of mine. Always around to lend an ear.
|
|
Tonight, I hope he has two.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
My name is Luke. Luke ``Lucky'' Bavarious. I'm a private dick. At
|
|
least, I was, before I died. My dad was a cop. A cop that didn't
|
|
play by the rules. That's how he died. He broke the rules. Then the
|
|
rules broke him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
My dad died when I was 13. He didn't listen to me. I knew the
|
|
streets. He thought, because he was old, because he was
|
|
experienced, that he knew more about the dark realities of the city
|
|
than I did. I tried to warn him. He didn't listen to me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It was a night just like tonight. Except both of us were still
|
|
alive. At least, for now. My dad was called in to investigate a
|
|
shooting. Prescott Avenue. The worst street in the worst
|
|
neighborhood in the worst city. I remember him drinking when he got
|
|
the call. He didn't always drink. Only when he {\em knew}. When he
|
|
knew something was going down. When he knew he would be cheating
|
|
Death. When he knew that one drink may be his last. He {\em knew}.
|
|
And {\em I knew}.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I've blamed myself for my father's death. I've blamed him. I've
|
|
blamed the alcohol. I've blamed it all. But the one thing I can't
|
|
blame is the person who killed him. I can't do that, because I
|
|
don't know who it is. I've spent my life searching for him. I
|
|
became a cop, because I thought I could find him. I couldn't. I was
|
|
fired for using excessive force on a drunk one day. Served him
|
|
right, the swine.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Tonight, maybe, I'll find who I'm looking for.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I breeze into the bar like a shadow. That's pretty much all I am
|
|
now. A shadow. A shadow to my father, who is now a shadow himself.
|
|
The world is full of shadows, shadows that we don't see until it's
|
|
too late. I've been through a lot of crap in my time, seen a lot of
|
|
things a sane man would be better off without seeing. Luckily for
|
|
me, I'm not a sane man. I guess that's why they call me
|
|
Lucky.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Mac's behind the bar. I slam some money down. ``I'll need a strong
|
|
one tonight, Mac. Gimme a Screwdriver.'' I wince at the sound of the
|
|
word. I killed a man once. Stabbed him through the head with a
|
|
screwdriver. Phillips head. Poor Phillip.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Mac pours me a stiff one. ``Rough day?'' He asks. ``I'm just getting
|
|
started,'' I say, lighting up a cigarette. Red Apples. Menthol. It
|
|
stings like fibreglass, and I almost want to vomit. I take a drink
|
|
to cool down my throat. ``Mac,'' I say, my hands shaking, ``I'm
|
|
dead.''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Mac looks up at me. To my astonishment, he's not surprised. He
|
|
knows.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``I know,'' he says. ``I'm the one that killed you.''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
My shaking hands curl into shaking fists. Mac. My friend. My brother. My
|
|
killer. I lunge across the bar. ``You {\bf rotten murderer}!'' I scream
|
|
at him. I can't think. I can't breathe. My cigarette falls out of my
|
|
mouth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I grab his neck. From my holster, I pull my baretta.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I don't even hear him laughing as I pull the trigger.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|