Vendetta - Part Thirteen

“Faster, faster!” Sean’s voice barked at me as my fists pounded the boxing bag again and again. “Harder!” My arms drooped to my sides and I fell against the bag, my body sucking in oxygen in short, greedy gasps. Sean stood, sighing and walked over towards me. I closed my eyes, the sweat dripping from my face, trying to hold myself up. He kicked savagely at the boxing bag and I was thrown from my dusty, red refuge down to the cold, hard floorboards.
“No more.” I managed to force out as he stood over me.
“I expect better than this from you Michael. I know you have the capacity for it, and you should by now as well.” I stared up at him as if to say ‘I’m sorry’, but he began to walk away.
“Enjoy your break, we’ll begin again in an hour.” I closed my eyes again, the sound of my heartbeat thundering through my brain, as my body slowly shut down.

The smell of smoke roused me from my nap, and I stood, rubbing at my eyes. The bright, orange glare of fire met my eyes and I quickly moved outside. The garden was ablaze with flame and the sounds of gunshots and Sean roaring made their way over the inferno. My eyes frantically scanned around me, looking for any sign of my mentor, but all I could see was more destruction. The smoke was filling my lungs and I could hardly see anything as I fell to my knees, coughing soot into my hands. Another scream penetrated the thick shroud and I turned to see a figure appear from the flames not so much walking as he was dancing as he moved. His long dark hair danced about in the wind as his body rocked to and fro to the music in his mind. Or perhaps it was the chaos he danced to. The image of him terrified me as I searched to see any details of his face. I froze on the spot, panic stricken as he raised his head upwards, howling over the crackle and roar of the hell that had manifested around us. The gunshots stopped and he turned his gaze, if that’s what you could call the faceless stare adorned atop his shoulders, towards my crouched figure. An all-encompassing fear gripped my mind as I watched him casually lift his gun at me.

“Michael? Michael, can you hear me?” I opened my eyes to see Jessica, holding a wet cloth. I tried to touch my face with my hands, but my shoulder wailed in agony. Jessica patted my head with the cloth, the cool water soothing the storm inside my head. My eyes frantically darted around her head, shadowy figures and faces wreathed in flame, everywhere I turned. My mouth gaped as I tried to warn her. “Michael, there’s nothing wrong,” She said softly, sensing my fear. “It’s just the pain killers messing with your head. Try to relax.” She leaned forward, kissing my forehead gently before my head fell back into the pillow and I slipped once more into oblivion.

***

I don’t know how long I’d been asleep for, but the sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon as I rolled over, opening my eyes. I lay still and silent as I watched the sky above the broken skyline of buildings turn a beautifully soft, gold color, that looked like it should have sprung from the hands of a famous painter who’s name always eluded me. I smiled and rolled onto my back, content in the warm sheets. The serenity of it all just washed over me until I remembered why it was that I had been in bed for so long. Sitting up slowly, I looked at my shoulder. Max had been right, the wound wasn’t bad at all and it was already starting to heal, but I wasn’t going to go pushing my luck with it. Looking down at my chest I cringed my eyebrows at the purple hue surrounding my rib. I imagined my back would look similar, after my fall, but I wasn’t in any real pain and it felt like I was all right to move around. I didn’t know how I was going to explain all the bruising, but I didn’t have the energy to much care.

The gentle aroma of freshly brewed coffee put my mind at ease and I got up out of the bed, being careful not to do myself any damage. Throwing on a pair of trousers I made my way out of the bedroom, and there she was. She stood at the bench top, bathed in that wonderful gold light, attending to the coffee. Her hair was still all messed up from sleeping and she’d put on one of my shirts, her silky bare legs poking out from beneath it. I leaned against the doorframe and just watched her. She was so beautiful. My angel. My redemption. She looked over at me, grinning, as she finished with the coffee, putting the mugs down on the table. I grinned back as she walked over to me, resting her hands on my chest. She traced her fingers down my torso, slipping her arms around my chest, holding me close.
“How are you feeling?” She asked.
“A bit rough around the edges but I think I’ll live.”
“I was really worried about you, you know. You should be more careful.”
“Yeh I know.”
“No more getting caught in the middle of random street shootings, ok?”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” We stood there for a few moments more before she let go of me, grabbing her coffee from the table. She sat down and motioned for me to do the same. But it suddenly occurred to me that the last time I saw this table, my coat had lay on it, hiding my guns. Neither was there now. I hoped that the shock coursing through my mind wasn’t showing as I sat down rigidly in the seat. I guess that was just another thing to add to the list of stuff that had to be “explained away”.
“So you are ok then?”
“Yeh, I’m fine, the wound isn’t bad. I think I got pretty lucky with that.”
“Lucky isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe your situation.” She chuckled.
“Well, it could have been a lot worse. It was a good thing Max was there with me.”
“Yeh, it really was. Although I have to say, I’m very surprised that a big-city business man like him knows how to remove a bullet.”
“Well Max isn’t strictly a business man is why. He’s ex-army.”
“Really?” I nodded.
“He did four years in Sarajevo during the nineties.” She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“And now he works in public relations for an inner city conglomerate?”
“Well, that’s the short version of it, yeh. It’s something of a complex story.”
“How about that. The man must have an interesting life story.”
“A fairly bleak one as well.”
“Well, as far as I know (and that’s not real far) Africa wasn’t a great place to be in during the nineties. That’s where Sarajevo is, right?” I nodded.
“Yeh, that about sums it up. All the civil war shit. Real war zone stuff.”
“He seems so polite and well adjusted for a person who’s been through that sort of stuff.”
“That’s where the complex story part comes into it.”
“I see. Anyway,” She chirped, obviously, trying to steer the conversation towards something a little less morbid. “You’re all right, and that’s the main thing.” I could see that behind her bright eyes, she wanted to ask why the man she was so casually drinking coffee with, carries two pistols around with him. It was a question giving her logic a wake up call, I’m sure. I was a dangerous man, this much she knew. She’d already seen me come home, my hands covered in another man’s blood, and now with a slug in my shoulder. It wouldn’t take her long to work the whole picture out, but right now I just didn’t have it in me to tell her and end the dream I had become so accustomed to living.

“Oh, actually, before I forget, I wanted to ask you: who’s Sean?”
“Pardon?” How in the hell did she know that name?”
“You were saying the name in your sleep. Trying to warn him or something. You weren’t being very coherent. Which isn’t really all that surprising.” I put my mug down and stared into the dark liquid, trying to hold back the flood of memories as the last few days rushed back with a vengeance.
“He was a man I knew once. Well, less of a man, more of a soldier. It was all he really knew.  He fought in Vietnam; one of those guys who never really got over it. He would occasionally tell stories of all the atrocities he’d seen, and done, himself, all the horrors of war. Less than half of his platoon made it out alive, and most of them left their hearts in the jungles anyway. Like most, they weren’t exactly rewarded for their involvement, but they were bloodstained heroes, every one of them.”
“You say you ‘knew’ him?”
“Yeh, he’s dead now. There was a big fire on his property, he didn’t make it out.” Images of his bloody corpse, bruised and mangled flashed in my mind.
“I’m sorry.” She reached out to touch my hand.
“Don’t be. He’d be the first person to tell you he deserved it.” A small smile grew on my face in fond memory of the harsh master who’d made me the man I was today. I didn’t know whether to thank or damn him for that, but I guess that didn’t really matter so much these days anyway. The revenge was all that mattered. Well, not the only thing. Looking up at Jess, I thanked whichever God had sent her to me.

We finished our coffees in silence, content with each other’s presence. She picked up our mugs and walked over to the sink.
“Thank you.” I said, breaking the silence.
“For what?”
“For caring like you do.” She smiled, and came over to hug me again.
“Right back at you Michael.” She ruffled my hair with her fingers, holding my head close to her chest. I wrapped my arms around her waist and let the steady rhythm of her heartbeat soothe my troubled mind. It was the moments like this where I knew that she didn’t care about the guns or the bruises, any of that. It didn’t matter, because she had someone who loved her. And when she leaned down, kissing the top of my head, I knew, she loved me back.

She left for work soon after, content that I was well enough to look after myself, and I was left to brood over my thoughts.

This business with Tom changed things quite dramatically. First the mess with Sean, and now a dead, undercover cop. If nothing else, Elliott was going to be pissed off. If he even knew about Tom. If he did, it was a good acting job he’d been feeding me. Either way, someone knew, and with their man dead, it gave them cause to start poking around. Not to say that having police investigate my father would be such a bad thing; it would certainly draw his attention away from me. But sooner or later, the paper trail would lead my way, which was a very undesirable outcome, considering my recent involvements with Elliott. At least one thing was certain. I had found the man responsible for Sean’s death. Those cards at least were on the table. Fortunately, he had no idea I had come to this realization, at least as far as I knew. I had to use this time well, there was no telling when it would all boil over into the bloodbath it surely promised to become. One thing in particular confused me though. I couldn’t work out a reason as to why my father would have Sean killed. I put the thought aside; I’d find out sooner or later.

On top of everything else, I was going to be out of action for a few days more at the minimum. With that in mind, I figured I might as well make the most of it, and rest up as much as I could. Because if the near future played out at all as I thought it might, I was going to need all the strength I could muster.