horrors2

Brolita.Mac.tex

  1\chapauth{Brolita}
  2\chapter{Mac}
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  6This morning, I woke up to find myself dead.
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 10I don't know how it happened, or why. That's why I'm here. Easy
 11G's, a dive on the bad side of town. Mac, the guy who runs the
 12place, is a good friend of mine. Always around to lend an ear.
 13Tonight, I hope he has two.
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 17My name is Luke. Luke ``Lucky'' Bavarious. I'm a private dick. At
 18least, I was, before I died. My dad was a cop. A cop that didn't
 19play by the rules. That's how he died. He broke the rules. Then the
 20rules broke him.
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 24My dad died when I was 13. He didn't listen to me. I knew the
 25streets. He thought, because he was old, because he was
 26experienced, that he knew more about the dark realities of the city
 27than I did. I tried to warn him. He didn't listen to me.
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 31It was a night just like tonight. Except both of us were still
 32alive. At least, for now. My dad was called in to investigate a
 33shooting. Prescott Avenue. The worst street in the worst
 34neighborhood in the worst city. I remember him drinking when he got
 35the call. He didn't always drink. Only when he {\em knew}. When he
 36knew something was going down. When he knew he would be cheating
 37Death. When he knew that one drink may be his last. He {\em knew}.
 38And {\em I knew}.
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 42I've blamed myself for my father's death. I've blamed him. I've
 43blamed the alcohol. I've blamed it all. But the one thing I can't
 44blame is the person who killed him. I can't do that, because I
 45don't know who it is. I've spent my life searching for him. I
 46became a cop, because I thought I could find him. I couldn't. I was
 47fired for using excessive force on a drunk one day. Served him
 48right, the swine.
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 52Tonight, maybe, I'll find who I'm looking for.
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 56I breeze into the bar like a shadow. That's pretty much all I am
 57now. A shadow. A shadow to my father, who is now a shadow himself.
 58The world is full of shadows, shadows that we don't see until it's
 59too late. I've been through a lot of crap in my time, seen a lot of
 60things a sane man would be better off without seeing. Luckily for
 61me, I'm not a sane man. I guess that's why they call me
 62Lucky.
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 66Mac's behind the bar. I slam some money down. ``I'll need a strong
 67one tonight, Mac. Gimme a Screwdriver.'' I wince at the sound of the
 68word. I killed a man once. Stabbed him through the head with a
 69screwdriver. Phillips head. Poor Phillip.
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 73Mac pours me a stiff one. ``Rough day?'' He asks. ``I'm just getting
 74started,'' I say, lighting up a cigarette. Red Apples. Menthol. It
 75stings like fibreglass, and I almost want to vomit. I take a drink
 76to cool down my throat. ``Mac,'' I say, my hands shaking, ``I'm
 77dead.''
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 81Mac looks up at me. To my astonishment, he's not surprised. He
 82knows.
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 86``I know,'' he says. ``I'm the one that killed you.''
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 90My shaking hands curl into shaking fists. Mac. My friend. My brother. My
 91killer. I lunge across the bar. ``You {\bf rotten murderer}!''  I scream
 92at him. I can't think. I can't breathe. My cigarette falls out of my
 93mouth.
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 97I grab his neck. From my holster, I pull my baretta.
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101I don't even hear him laughing as I pull the trigger. 
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