Downpour

Downpour

      The rain falls like it’s trying to escape from the skies. It comes down so hard I can’t see ten feet in front of me. It beats on my head soaking me to the bone. I should be shivering. I should be wrapping my arms around myself running for shelter. I should be doing a lot of things other than standing out here in this freezing hell. What I should be doing and what I have to do are two completely different things though. My wool trench coat feels like a bag of cement, dragging me further into this frozen hell of a night. Waterfalls pour off my shoulders and my lips turn violet. My fingers feel like raisins as I run them over the grip of a colt .45. I know the clip inside only has a few bullets left. The shells of the other lay on the floor of my apartment. They are probably cold by now, the lead that was contained inside resting nice inside the off white plaster of the walls inside number 4 Maltese boulevard. I try to move but my legs betray me. They stay firmly rooted like I’m some ancient tree whose roots have dug themselves out for miles. My gaze is transfixed on the soft yellow light that gently pours from the third window up, fourth to the right on the building across the street.

      I can’t feel my toes anymore, but that doesn’t matter. I welcome the numbing feeling as the cold seeps into my bones. Maybe if I stand here long enough the pain in my heart will numb too. I can’t stand here all night though, my pain isn’t important anymore. The only thing that is important is the pain that whoever tried to kill me will be feeling the last few moments I’ll allow him to live before I put an end to his miserable life. I don’t even care why they wanted me dead anymore, could be a number of reasons. Might be the money, might be the booze, and hell it could certainly be the broad. Men take a certain notice to you if you know where to get good booze these days, and its not the kind of notice one might take a liking to. Add on top of that that your pocketing some pretty coin out of the business and happen to have the most picturesque woman hanging off your right arm and men would even kill to take what ya got. They tried all right, but they didn’t take it for themselves, all they got out of it was taking what was mine, and making it nobody’s. Now I aim to return the favor, I shoot to return in tenfold. So they killed Nancy, I’ll make sure the bastard knows the one thing he loved in this shadow of world is long gone before I do him. Doesn’t matter that its not true, doesn’t matter I can’t bring myself to do some things. Taking a man’s life who deserves it is one thing. Taking the lives of the innocent people around him is another, no; I’m not like him at all. My legs finally decide its time to get this one-man army marching. Time to show this bastard, whoever he is, what a man whose got nothin’ to lose is capable of. The water on the road splashes onto my legs as I trudge through it like I am walking towards the toll operator at the river Styx. The address above the door becomes visible as my gut wrenches. I know I have seen or heard it before.

      Charlie was the one who lead me here, didn’t talk easy though. Had to do things I couldn’t even think up until I saw Nancy’s beautiful face frozen in that last moment of unbridled fear and anguish. Three fingers, and ear and an eye later I had this address. S’all I needed. Charlie had it coming though, withholdin’ information of that sort from me. Don’t care about the bastard’s name, job, whatever. Only care about the look in his eyes as I bleed the life from him. I fumble around my pockets, searching for my cigarettes, could use one right about now. I pull them out and realize like the rest of my pathetic body they are drenched to their core. I shrug as I pull one out of the pack and put it in my mouth. I don’t even light it, just let it hang there limp. Time to get this party hoppin’. I pull the colt out of my coat and approach the door, take one last look at the brilliant light emanating from the window above and I knock on the door.

         Nothing. No one answers; I don’t even hear a creak. The rain seems to pound even harder now, urging me forward, pressing me to my goal. I ring the doorbell this time. Still nothing. I start to get frustrated, not only did this bastard kill my wife, burn my bar, and try to kill me, now he wont even answer his door like a civilized human being. This really steams me. I pound on the rough wooden barrier now. It’s the only thing keeping me out and him from a long drawn out demise.
         
      “Fuck this.” I decide to throw all caution and subtlety to the wind, letting the rain drag it to the ground and wash it away like my life was earlier tonight. I should be dead. I am dead.
         
      I kick the door but it doesn’t budge. I might have even stubbed my toe in the process. Not like it really matters though. I take a few steps back and launch myself at the door shoulder first. This time the barrier gives; I fall into house and scramble to my feet, looking for some kind of bodyguards. A guy like this probably has bodyguards all around him. I’ll more than likely have to kill them all, hope I got enough bullets. The room is dark, I can barely see. I don’t hear or see anyone though. I start to slowly move forward when I realize that I just busted the door in. My feet click on the floor as I walk forward. I leave puddles on the hard wood as I take my time sliding around the room. I pull out the cannon. My finger slides in front of the trigger and shakes. I close my eyes, try and calm my nerves. Come on, this guy killed you; all you are is a vengeful specter. Just carry out your task and it’ll all be over. I open my eyes and see the steps; I see a sliver of light that spread itself at the top of them. The light is my guide, my purpose. I start to climb the stairs and the creak, they wail like a mother holding onto her dying child. I curse under my breath as I climb faster. I reach the top and I feel like I’ve just topped Everest. I put my shoulder to the door like a rhino smashing into its prey. I look for someone, anyone. My vision catches a chair with a main sitting in it. I point my gun and start to scream before I have even looked at him.
         
      “I’ll kill you!! I am gonna make it slow, and I’m gonna make it painful you sick sonfabitch!!” My gun shakes; I can’t keep my aim steady. I take a second to look this soon to be dead bastard in the eye. A twitch runs through my face and liquid runs down my face that wasn’t put there by the tempest outside. The droplet rolls onto my lips and I can taste it, its salty, its sweat. I stare like an animal about to be put down, an animal who doesn’t understand what’s happening around him. That scar on that man’s face, I know that scar. He got when he was 10, it runs from above his left eye until his chin. My chest heaves up and down like the piston of a car that is being pushed to its limit. My eyes widen as the reality seeps into me like the rain was moments ago. This man is my brother.
         
      My eyes trace a line from his scar to his eyes. They used to be brown, but now they have turned to a light gray, they have lost the life they once held; their depth has been drained and left shallow. A sickening laughter bounces off the walls in the room as I can feel the vomit brewing in my stomach. A smirk slithers its way onto his face, in my twenty-six years of life with him in it, I have never seen a smile like that appear on his face. Then it clicks into my head, if my brother is here, and this house is supposed to belong to the man who has ruined me. Then my brother must be behind it. I try to harden my heart and pull the trigger. This man can’t be my brother anyway. I must be seeing things. My brother died years ago, freak car accident. Cops said that the body was in pieces. The laughter pierces me like a knife into my heart. The man speaks.
         
      “What the matter brother? Didn’t expect to see me again did you? No I suspect not…unfortunately I have no time for family reunions. It was good seeing you again, it’s a real shame we wont ever catch up. You should have died in your apartment; the one mercy I was going to grant you was not knowing that I was a part of this. I like it better this way though, as your brother I am the only one who has the right to put a bullet into you wouldn’t you say? Yes, lets end this” My trigger finger falters. I drop my colt.
         
      I don’t even hear the gunshots. I see a flash from the muzzle of the cannon he had lifted moments ago. I see those gray eyes. The last things I see are those gray eyes. He can’t be my brother. My brother is dead.