Edge

Edge

By Alan Khan



         General Psychology

                             Part 1

Falling to sleep in media res



         “That is what this is, prison. Low to the ground I can be free, but up here where the sun rises and sets bring cold night, I will never escape.”



I find these foolish words tagged onto the decrepit abandoned house of my childhood. The many junkies, whores, and dreamers have all moved on to a more accommodating setting. Stepping into the house I crouch, cowering in a corner where my room may have been, shivering in the cold, many bad men after me. I doze off





                             Part 2

                             Chapter 1: Who?



         I’m pressed up against a cold wall. The world in disarray. The sounds insight around me blurred. I’m shoved hard down to the ground, the glass bottles I’ve emptied surrodning me. I think that my head is pounding and my ears are ringing, but I’m to busy trying to push myself to death to be able to tell. From somewhere away ihear heavy thuds, and bottles clearing a path toward me. “Swfit, Max Swift you motherfucker.” That’s me.



                             Chapter 2: Where?



         I’m taken away from darkness and comfort as I am shaken out of my sleep. The lids of my eyes struggle to open as the pit of my stomach is unpleasantly churning. My throat feels heavy and warm, and I wish now more than ever for another drink. “You’re in my limo.” I roll over, well aware of the smell of leather, and cheap cologne. As my eyes begin adjusting I am able to make out the man speaking to me. A fat Mexican dressed head to toe in white. Sweat trailing down his cheeks, he puts his handkerchief against his rough skin.

         “Where’m I going?” The words come out like reflex. He looks down at me, the anger and cockiness in his eyes. He says nothing as I slowly begin to blank out again. The drone of tires against road soothing me into rest.





                             Chapter3: What?



         Tiny steps against cold tiles. My head still spinning, the sounds of heels moving toward me pounds my ears. My nose is greeted with a pleasant perfume as a beautiful woman moves into my view. She stands with her tight black dress down to her knees and looks at me with judgmental eyes. She steps gently toward me, her hips rolling, like a pro. The bedroom I find myself in is very expensinve. The furniture arragned like amodel home. Her own liitle illusion of class. With a sweet voice seeming to not belong to the world she belongs to she speaks. “You probably should be waking up now, these people don’t-”

         “Where am i?” I interrupt. Used to speaking between people convience she immediately answers my question, “You’re in my place, you’re resting in my bed.” She steps away to ge something from her draws. The smell of her and the beauty of her body wakes me up a bit, my senses and my skin becoming sharp again.

         “Used to strange men in your bed huh?” The words finding its way to my mouth. She quickly snaps her head toward me, the look in her eye making her lok like another woman. She quickly marches over to me, throwing new clothes onto the bed. Leaning forward, poutin her lips as she says, “I’m used to men left in pain…inn my bed.” Smiling she shake her ass out of the room, leaving a smile on my face.



         With the silence surrounding me the coud of confusion clears and I am painfully aware of the muscle soreness. I pull myself to sit up. My arms feeling like noodles, I wing my legs over the edge of the bed. The crown of my skull thumping in tune with my heart beat. I walk into the bathroom and change my clothes.





                             Chapt. 4: When?



         I walk out of her bedroom, buttoning the jacket she gave me. She sits on her couch, her head leaning against the pillow. She turns and looks at me, sizing me up. I look around, the smell of elegance and money surrounds everything. Furniture untouched and put neatly into order. I turn over to her, her face expecting something to be said by me. “High priced..?” She gets up immediately, her lips pressed hard together. The doors to her apartment are flung open as heavy feet are heard trucking through the hall, making there way to the room we stand in. I count three men, one of whom may be carrying a gun in his pants. As I turn to look over at them as I hear them enter the room, I am quickly brought to the ground, a knee resting on my throat. I look around quickly, as I see the fat Mexican again wearing white. “Finally awake huh mother fucker?”



         “What the fuck do you people want from me?”



         He utters a single name, “Manuel.” The name alone brings this all into sensibility. The club, the train, and her. That fucking whore, and her betrayel, it all floods back into my mind so quickly, that I feel myself blacking out once again.



         Quickly brought to my feet he continues on, “What did you think? You could kill whoever it was pissed you off? My brother, was a fucking asshole. I cant say I’m to broken up. But he was more than my brother, he was somebody. He-”



One of Marquez’s men quickly puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering something into his ear.



Marquez, quickly nodding his head, fixes his suit, combing back his greasy hair.

“He shouldn’t have died, not anytime soon. Now, we need you to do us a favor, kill someone.”



I shake my way out of the bodyguards grip. “Okay, how much?”



Marquez looks around at his men, confused. “How much what?”



“How much are you going to pay me for this job.”



Marquez chest becomes tense and the warmth around his body intensifies. Unable to force words out right away he shuffles around the room. Pointing over to me he says, “We’re going to fucking let you live, that’s what you’re getting.”



I shift around exhaling deeply than whisper, “Not what I want..”



















…before.



Loco Motive. (uno)







Bobs harsh hands grazes against Max’s face, stirring him out of sleep. “Wake up punk, we’re almost there, get sharp.”



Max sits up slapping his cheeks lightly a few times. He yawns and stretches his stiff arms. Bob’s old blue truck manages to hold together over the harsh desert terrain.



Black and nighttime outside Max turns to Bob, “Where are we going?”



“Christ kid do you listen? We’re meeting these guys at a bar a little ways out into the desert.”



“Fuck is a bar doing out in the desert?”



“Just shut up, that’s where this is happening. I like it, away from the law, I mean New Mexico PD aint exactly on top of their game, but you know how I get regardless.”

Max whispers yeah to himself as he slips his boots on, seeing bright lights down the trail.

         

         The bar is large and the area surrounding it is clear and wide. The desert seems to disappear around the bright neon lights, and the noises outside. Motorcycles running up and down the trail, the men drunk off the air and booze scream and holler, and fight.



Bob pulls the car over throws it in park, and shuts the engine off. Turning to Max, “Alright, let me run through all of this again for you. We’re dealing with a bunch of cowboy Mexicans, they’re not going to want any bullshit from us with this, I’m starting to see why we’re in this shit splat bar in the middle of nowhere. It’s a lot more hardware we’re used to selling so, we’re going to carry a piece ourselves. Slip this .22 up your sleeve. Hopefully they won’t search us. We’re meeting a guy named Manuel, he’s in charge of all this, than-”



         “Oh god okay, can we go?” Max steps out the car without waiting for Bob going to the back of the truck, to get the guns.



         

Bob shoves him hard, “No leave it in for now, start fucking listening.”



Bob was old, but tough, he had been in and out of prison his whole life. He was sick of it, Max knew better to mess with Bob past a certain point.







Walking through the crowd of unwashed wild men made Max feel whole, surrounded by all of this gave Max the edge he needed.



“Look kid, please do me a favor on this, and don’t go crazy again. I really would like to stop doing all this soon; I think it’s the point of it all. So just let’s get this one finished with and maybe we can just retire. Go away for a while.”



Max and Bob stopped just before entering the door, Max inhaled sharply, taking in the last breath of fresh air, prepared for the smell of sweat booze blood and smoke. Bob punched his arm lightly. “Here we go.”























General Psychology

Part 3

-Realization



         I’m sitting in a small stifling apartment. It’s empty. Carpet sparingly scattered around the hardwood floor. I try not to sit too comfortably, afraid my weight may have me tumble through the floor. Its hot and the sweat clings to my neck and ankles. The boots laced tighly at my feet do not help.



         The rifle dissasmbled in front of me burns along with the rest of the room, and it hasn’t even been fired yet. I pick it up piece by piece putting it together, extra careful with each connection. The unopened manila folder to my left shines in my face, poking into my view. The pit of my stomach is not filled with heat, and my nerves are not on edge, nor am I calm and full of relaxation. I simply am there. My being wasting space and air and valuable life.





I remove the long sleeved shirt from my body, the sweat now forming in pools in the dips of my muscular sholders. I place the gun over by the windowsill. I open the folder and see two pictures fall out. One of a man, no older than I am. His skin rough, and his face showing a long life spent in a short amount of years. And the other picture, that of a boy. No older than ten holding on to the young man. I look down at the hand holding these pictures. It shakes for a moment. But quickly stops, and reaches for the rifle.

The window shade is pulled up and the blistering sun finds its way through the glass into my eyes. These two will be coming out of this coffee shop in two minutes and forty-three seconds. I ready the rifle, tucking it close to me, feeling its weight, cooling its handle with my hands, letting it rise and fall with my breath. Looking through the sight as an extension of my own vision. Any minute now.



There, there they are. Their hands held together crossing the street, presumably heading over to the toystore. My finger calm steady, I squeeze. The father falls to the ground. His head spraying. He hit the ground in a bloody mess. The little boy kneels close to his fallen father, as the many people in the street scrambling around. Tripping over the corpse and boy, just something in there way. I don’t even know if they are aware of the two in the street, both there worlds crashing down by my hand. My scope eases over to the boys head. He sits motionless, the tears rolling down his cheeks like diamonds against the sun, my finger rested gently on the warm trigger. He’s still sitting, and I still do not squeeze. He just sits there, soaking in his fathers blood.

It shivers, my finger beings to shiver. My hands and head become warm, and suddenly I find myself dissaembling the rifle is anger. Cursing myself over and over. My anger increasing I dash the gun against the wall and dart out the room. Bolting down the stairs, the world spinning.

My head pounds. I am being kicked around in my ribs and face. I feel a pistol barrel pressed hard against my neck. I throw my fists around as I feel jaws crush against them but it is useless. I am brought down and I hear words, barely making them out. “Max Swift, you are under arrest, quit fucking moving.”

Loco Motive (dos)



         Inside the bar was every man’s glorious fantasy, dozens of naked women, embracing the terrible heat around them, the sweat glistening by the dim light illuminating the smoke filled room. The yelling and shouting is louder in here, and every so often a glass would break or a man would be knocked hard on his ass. Nothing out of the ordinary in this terrible place. The hard surroundings was familiar to Max and home for Bob.

         Bob taps Max’s chest and nods his head all the way into the back of the bar, away from the light, away from the women, away from the drinks. In the back of the bar sitting beneath a lamp, hidden away from the madness around him sat Manuel. Writing in his pad, he grazed his hand against his thick handle bar moustache that sat uncomfortably on his face. His eyes were gentle and brown. His skin looked smooth and light, and taken care of. His hands struggled to write for more than a few words, the muscles becoming sore and tired rather quickly. Max and Bob made there way over to him.

Bob stepped forward, placing his hand on the chair opposite Manuel, “Manuel sir, I understand you have children in need of toys?”

Manuel looked up, trying his best to look menacing, and as quickly as the conversation started Manuel put on a silly grin, “Amigo, of course I do. Pleace please have a seat.” Bob and Max both sat a chair away from one another. “Okay, we gonna get straight to business just as soon as I make a couple more quick calls. I’m gonna grab the cash than come right out. You boys sit tight.” As he gets up he motions toward the bar, “Grab a drink and enjoy my girls, anything on me boys.” Bob’s disposition lightened up as he quickly found himself grinning. He grabs Max by the arm, dragging him like a child over to the bar.

Bob slams his hand down on the bar, immediately grabbing the attention of the tender. “Bottle of whiskey and two glasses.” With arrogant eyes, the barkeep looks us up and down. He hands us the bottle and dirty glasses, yelling over to us immediately as we turn to leave. “Where you two going uh? Pay the fucking cash man.”

Bob laughs, undoubtly by his accent and says, “No no, Manuel says on the house tonight friend.”

“He didn’t say shit to me, so drop some cash asshole.”

Bob steps slowly over to the bar, as from the corner of Max’s eye he sees to large men, move toward them from the shadows in the back.  One of them behind Bob, the other behind Max, Bob looks right over at Max, just cool it kid, no big deal.

The bouncer behind Max drops his hand forcefully on his shoulder, Bob quickly steps in his direction, “No hey, don’t touch him.”

“You gringo’s doing in here huh? You’d better leave now.”

Max grins spinning around to look at him quickly, “No, we’re thirsty.”

“Max..” Bobs whispers over to him, as the bouncer shoves him hard. Max grabs his hand and twists it, bringing the large man to his knees.

Out from no where Manuel shows up and begins yelling, “What the fuck is going on over here? I told these guys free drinks. What the fuck are all of you doing?” The bartender drops his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lay off you hear?”

Max lets go of the bouncer, throwing him back as he stumbles. As everyone slowly walks away Bob grabs Max harshly and throws him into a seat. “What the fuck is with you kid, you ever listen to what I tell you. I said fucking lay low. You think ii like sticking my neck out for you? You forget I saved your fucking ass? I mean why-” Bob stops immediately as Max slams his fist down on the table. Bob sits slowly across from him. “What is it that is eating you up man? You always been this way.” Max sits and stares off into the crowd, into the women, into nothing at all, his thoughts lost. Bob sits there not expecting anything, but still hoping for something out of him. Max slides a glass over to him, filling it to the top. “Throw it back.” He says to him