Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge-Two/Two

Part Eleven

Gerard watched as Joel and Benji left the bar and almost ran down the sidewalk.  He took a final drag from his cigarette, then pitched it to the ground and began following Joel and Benji.  He ran easily, keeping to the shadows, until he saw the twins enter an elaborate building with a large sign reading Bombshell Records.  The door was guarded by a large doorman, and Gerard considered him carefully.  He knew he could get past him using force, but that wasn’t the route Gerard wanted to take.  Force and violence would be too visual, and Gerard didn’t want to be noticed.

Glancing up, Gerard saw a light shining from a third story window.  Studying the building closely, Gerard walked around to the back.  The bricks were uneven, and Gerard sighed.  Gripping the side of the wall, he began to climb until he reached the room, five stories up.  A door led from the roof to the inside of the building, and Gerard easily forced it open and made his way to the third floor.  Benji and Joel’s voices floated down the hallway, and Gerard followed the sounds.  He paused outside the open door and listened closely.

“The fucker sent us these,” Joel said, and Gerard hear the unmistakable sound of a cardboard box hitting the desk.  “We’re next.  I fucking know it.”

“Calm down,” a female voice said irritably.  “What fucker?  Next for what?”

“Someone murdered Paulie and Billy,” Benji said.  “Then we got these.  It looks like whoever killed Paulie and Billy sent us these.”

“So who killed them?”  The female voice moved closer to the door, and Gerard risked a look before moving out of sight.  The speaker was a slender, blond female, and she did not look pleased about her late night visitors.

“I don’t know,” Benji replied.  “Obviously, the most likely suspects are his little friends.  But I can’t see any of those asswipes doing anything that fucking sadistic.”

Gwen was silent, then said, “Just go home.  Lock your doors.  I’ll figure something out.  Go.”

Benji and Joel exited the office and Gerard ducked into a supply closet.  He waited until they had boarded the elevator, then walked back to the open office.  He stood in the doorway, watching as Gwen poured a drink and walked back to her desk.  When she turned around, she saw Gerard leaning against the door and her glass slipped from her hand.  Gerard moved forward and caught it before it hit the floor.  Standing, he handed the glass back to Gwen, then sat down in the guest chair in front of her desk.

“Who the fuck are you?” Gwen asked, regaining her composure.

Gerard shrugged.  “Just some guy.”

“You’re not just some guy,” Gwen responded.  “Just some guy wouldn’t have been able to get past security.  So, I’ll ask you again—who the fuck are you?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your company,” Gerard replied.  He stood and walked towards Gwen’s desk.  “And in its employees.”

Gwen’s eyes narrowed.  “You’re the one,” she said.  “You killed Paul and Billy.”

“Fascinating theory,” Gerard said.  He sat on the edge of Gwen’s desk.  “Some people might think they had it coming.”

“You know,” Gwen said quietly, “you look very familiar.  Do I know you?”

“Better than you think,” Gerard answered.  “Think about it and I’ll see you again soon.”  With a sudden move, he jumped out of Gwen’s window and landed on a ledge several feet below.  He glanced up and saluted Gwen, then disappeared into the night.

Part Twelve

Joel sat back in his hot tub, letting the sound of the bubbling water fill his ears.  Hilary settled down beside him.

“You’re so tense,” Hilary said.  “What happened tonight?”

Joel shook his head, then froze.  “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Joel was silent; then, a scraping sound came from the next room.  “That,” he said.  “What was that?”

“Probably the cat,” Hilary answered.  “Now, just relax.”

“The cat,” Joel said in a relieved voice.  “You’re right.  It was probably the cat.”

“And a gorgeous cat it is,” a voice from the doorway said.  Hilary shrieked as Gerard walked into the room, holding a large, smoke grey cat.  The cat was purring loudly, and Gerard stroked it one final time before putting it down and shooing it away.  When the cat was gone, he took a seat beside the hot tub.  Joel started to climb out of the tub, but sank back down when Gerard pointed a gun at him.

“Don’t embarrass yourself, Joel,” Gerard said.  “Just stay put and listen.”  He smiled, then added, “I think you should know why you’re going to die.”

Joel’s eyes widened with fear, but he remained still, staring at Gerard.  Gerard was silent for a few moments, then he said thoughtfully, “You know, greed and desperation often go hand in hand.  They both make people do crazy things.”  He leaned forward.  “Like get four punks to try and beat a guy up to convince him to sell a record label.”

Joel started.  He looked more closely at Gerard, then began shaking his head.  “No fucking way.  You’re dead.  We fucking killed you.”

“Yeah,” Gerard answered cheerfully.  “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.  You did kill me.  And did a damn good job of it, too.  I was one dead motherfucker.  Until about three days ago.  Then, I found myself digging my way out of my grave.  Didn’t know who the fuck I was.  But then, I remembered.  I remembered who I was, and I remembered what you did to me.”  Gerard stood and walked to the edge of the tub, staring down at Joel.  “And you know what?  Payback is, as they say, a bitch.”

“What about me?” Hilary asked, her voice high and frightened.

“Hmmm.  What about you?”  Gerard considered the question, then sadly shook his head.  “You should be more careful about the company you keep.  And,” he added, “you were mean to my brother and my girlfriend.  That kind of pissed me off.”

Hilary began to try and scramble out of the tub, but the combination of soap and water made her slip.  Gerard walked to the window beside the hot tub, where there was an electric lamp.  Gerard casually tapped it, knocking it into the bubbling water of the hot tub.  Sparks flew and crackled violently, and both Joel and Hilary began to shake from the surge of electricity that coursed through their bodies.

Gerard watched calmly for a few minutes.  When he was sure his job was done, he reached into his pocket and pulled out several red roses, scattering them around the scene.  Climbing through the window, he left just as the entire block went dark.

Part Thirteen

Gerard slipped through the entrance to his dwelling, deep in thought.  Bert was sitting in the middle of the floor, his customary bottle of liquor in front of him.  When Gerard walked in, Bert asked, “Good night?”

Shrugging, Gerard stripped down and stepped into the shower.  “You could say that.”  He turned on the water as hot as he could stand it, idly wondering how and why this abandoned place still had hot running water, then said, “When I do this, I don’t feel like I’ll ever be fucking clean again.”

“Well, you’ve done three out of four,” Bert said.

The water stopped, and Gerard stepped out.  “Three out of five.”

“What do you mean, three out of five?” Bert asked.  “You were brought back to seek revenge on fucking Good Charlotte.  Last time I checked, there were four of them.”

“Gwen Stefani organized the whole fucking thing,” Gerard answered.  “To kill the beast, you cut off his head.  Stefani is the head.  So, I kill her.  Otherwise, she just finds another group of assholes and the whole cycle starts over again.”

Bert looked concerned.  “G, I don’t know if Stefani is covered under this resurrection deal.”

“What do you mean, not covered?”  Gerard stared at Bert.  “What are you talking about?”

“Look, you were brought back to exact revenge on the people who killed you.  Gwen Stefani didn’t lay a fucking hand on you.  Now, you’ve been given certain—immunities to help you destroy them.  With Stefani, you’re likely to be on your own.  No protection, no immunities.  Mortal against mortal.  She could kill you.”

Gerard was quiet as he dressed.  When he was done, he looked at Bert.  “I appreciate your guidance,” he said.  “And don’t think I don’t appreciate the second chance.  But if Good Charlotte is gone and Stefani is still alive and free, it won’t do any good.  Everything I’ve done will be for nothing.”  Gerard ran his hands through his hair.  “I’m not asking for help, or any special powers or any shit like that.  I’m just telling you this will not be over until she is dead.”

Bert sat quietly, then nodded.  “I’ll do what I can,” he said.  “But no promises.  When and if I’m gone, I’m gone.  And I don’t know when that will be.”

“Where will you go?” Gerard asked curiously.  “You’re not . . . .”  His voice trailed, and he shook his head.

“I’m not real,” Bert said.  “It’s OK.  I know I’m not real.”  He stood and paced the floor.  “You’re not the only person who has something at stake in the quest, G.”

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked.

“If I’m successful in my task,” Bert replied, “then I—I can be real, too.”  He looked down at his bottle and then took a swallow.  “I come back.  Just like you.”

“Don’t worry,” Gerard said softly.  “You’ll succeed, because I’m not going to fail.”  He folded his arms, and his hazel eyes flashed.  “I refuse to fail.”

Part Fourteen

Mikey walked out the back door of the bar, two large bags of garbage in his hands.  He tossed them into the dumpster, then took out a cigarette and lit it.  In the brief flare of the lighter, Mikey saw a shadowy figure standing in the alley.

His cigarette forgotten, Mikey stepped forward, his eyes searching the darkness.  He didn’t feel fear; he felt his heart give a leap and also felt something he hadn’t felt since Gerard’s death.  He felt a spark of hope.

The figure in the shadows hid his face and spoke.  “Michael.”

Mikey felt his throat close and tears prickle behind his eyelids.  He still didn’t speak, and the figure stepped forward into the light.  “Mikey?  It’s me.”

Tears overflowed Mikey’s eyes, spilling onto his cheeks.  “Gerard,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“It’s me, Mikey.”  Gerard reached Mikey, and they stared at each other for a few moments.  Then, Mikey almost collapsed into Gerard’s arms, sobbing silently.  Gerard held him tightly, and Mikey clung to him.  At last, Gerard pulled away, looking at Mikey, his own eyes shiny with tears.

“I can’t stay,” Gerard told him, “and you can’t tell anyone I was here.  I just wanted to see you, and tell you it’ll all be over soon.”  He hugged Mikey, then backed away.  “I love you, Mikey.  I promise.  I’ll be back.”

Mikey held Gerard a few seconds, then released him, nodding.  Gerard turned and disappeared back into the shadows, and Mikey wiped his eyes, making himself as presentable as possible before he went back inside.  Just as he was walking back in, Frank met him at the door.

“You OK, Mikey?” Frank asked.  “Didn’t fall into the fucking dumpster or anything, did you?”

Mikey flashed Frank a grin and shook his head.  Frank stared at Mikey in amazement as they walked into the building.

“He smiled at me,” Frank said in a low voice to Becka.  “When’s the last time you saw Mikey smile?”

“A year ago,” Becka replied.  “Before Gerard died.”  She folded her arms and looked at Mikey, puzzled.  “Strange.”

“Yeah,” Frank said.  “Strange.”

Part Fifteen

Gerard stood outside Benji’s apartment building, watching.  He was waiting patiently for Benji to come home, and soon, his patience was rewarded.  Benji hurried up the steps, his eyes darting from side to side, ever watchful.  Gerard remained out of sight until Benji entered the building, then slipped through the door before it closed.  He adjusted the pack he was carrying and watched the elevator.  When he saw the light stop on the fifth floor, he smiled and headed to the stairs.  He climbed the stairs quickly and found Benji’s room.  The door was locked tightly, and Gerard knelt in front of it.  Pulling out a lock picking kit, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.  The apartment was dark except for a light coming from a room in the back.

Gerard made his way to the back of the apartment.  Benji was in the bedroom, preparing for bed, and his back was to the door.  When Gerard cleared his throat, Benji whirled around, his eyes wide.

“You,” Benji said in a high, frightened voice.

“Me,” Gerard agreed.  He dropped his pack on the floor and pointed at the bed.  “Sit.  Now.”

Benji sat on the bed, his eyes wide and frightened.  He watched as Gerard closed the bedroom door and locked it.  Opening his pack, Gerard pulled out a length of rope and tossed it to Benji.  “Your legs,” he instructed.  “Tie them up.”  When Benji hesitated, Gerard sighed and pulled out a pistol.  Pointing it at Benji, he added, “Now.”

Benji fumbled with the rope, finally tying the rope around his ankles.  Gerard checked when he was done, tightening the knots here and there.  After he was satisfied, he pulled a roll of duct tape from his pack and bound Benji’s wrists tightly.  Opening his pack again, he pulled out a closed bucket and a paintbrush.  Humming to himself, he opened the bucket and began painting the beams on the ceiling.  Benji watched him, then asked, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to burn down the entire building,” Gerard said in a matter-of-fact tone.  “This is a flame retardant.”

“Wh-why do you need a flame retardant?” Benji asked.

“Because I plan to set you on fire,” Gerard answered.  He finished his painting and put away the material.  Then, he took the rope binding Benji and threw the loose end over one of the rafters.  In shock, Benji didn’t begin to struggle until he was suspended upside down and realized what was about to happen.  He succeeded only in tightening the ropes that bound him.

Benji opened his mouth to scream, and Gerard quickly stuffed a clean white cloth in Benji’s mouth.  He stepped back and observed Benji for a few moments.  Benji was making muffled, panicked noises, and was making himself swing violently from side to side.

Gerard turned and rummaged in his pack, still humming a cheerful tune.  He emerged from the pack holding a syringe in his hand.  He began talking in a low, soothing voice as he exposed Benji’s hip.

“I knew you were going to put up a fight,” Gerard said.  He uncapped the syringe.  “I’m not going to bore you with the scientific jargon, but this is a drug that will—calm you.  Physically, at least.”  He jabbed the needle into Benji’s hip, then sat down in a chair, watching Benji thoughtfully.  Benji’s struggles became less and less pronounced until he finally just hung there, his eyes darting from side to side in panic.

Once again going to his pack, Gerard began speaking.  “You know, I realize that all of you were scared shitless of Gwen Stefani, and all of you did pretty much what she told you to do.  But, one should be careful of the company one keeps.”  He approached Benji, holding a large, plastic spray bottle.  He stopped inches away from Benji’s face.  “You fucking killed me over a record label.  Yeah, maybe it was an accident, but you still did it.  And now, I’m back from beyond the fucking grave for revenge.”  He held up the bottle.  “This is an accelerant.  I’m going to soak you from head—“ a spray into Benji’s eyes, “—to toe.”  Another spray, this time to Benji’s feet.  “A well placed match, and poof.  No more asshole.”

Gerard sprayed Benji thoroughly, then pulled out a box of matches.  Striking one, he touched it to the hem of Benji’s pants.  The flames quickly engulfed Benji, and his face contorted in pain.  He was unable to move, but began screaming through his gag.  Gerard sat back, his expression impassive, and watched Benji burn.  When the smell of burnt flesh filled the room, Gerard quickly exited through the window, climbing down the fire escape and running down the darkened street.  He ran until he reached his home and entered.  Bert was waiting for him, a somber expression on his face.

“Take care of Madden the second?” Bert asked.

“Done and over with,” Gerard said shortly.  He looked at Bert and asked.  “Am I done?  As far as you’re concerned, anyway?”

“Yeah.  We—uh—we need to talk about that.”  Bert wrinkled his nose.  “Go shower first.  Then, we can pow-wow.”

Gerard gave Bert a quizzical look, then left and showered quickly.  When he emerged, Bert was pacing the floor.  He looked different, and after a moment, Gerard figured out the difference.  Bert wasn’t carrying his customary whiskey bottle.

“I got a message from . . . .”  Bert looked up, then sighed.  “You were right.  Stefani has to die.”

Gerard nodded.  “I figured as much.  I have two days.”

Part Sixteen

Becka walked outside, lighting a cigarette.  The air was cold and damp, and she shivered.  The inside of the house was much warmer, but tonight, she felt like being alone.

Sitting on the stoop, she smoked her cigarette, idly surveying the street.  A movement from the shadows caught her eye, and she leaned forward, peering into the darkness.  She saw a shadowy figure standing beside a blown street light.  The figure was familiar, and when the moonlight hit his face, Becka gasped.  “It can’t be,” she said to herself, then said aloud, “Gerard?”

Becka blinked, and when she looked again, the figure was gone.

Part Seventeen

Gwen Stefani paced in her office, a strong drink in her hand.  Word of Benji’s death had just reached her and she was finally feeling a worm of apprehension.

In his warehouse, Gerard made his preparations.  Bert watched him, then spoke.  “I’m going with you.”

Gerard looked at Bert in surprise, then said, “OK.”

After a period of silence had passed, Bert asked, “Don’t you want to know why?”

“I figure you’ve got a good reason,” Gerard replied.  “And I don’t mind the company.”  He shouldered his pack and looked at Bert.  “Ready?”

Bert nodded.  “Let’s go.”

Part Eighteen

Gwen tossed her drink back and put the glass on her desk.  Folding her arms, she wondered how long it would take for the spook to make it to her office and what she would do when he arrived.  He had proven very sadistic, and Gwen was beginning to doubt her ability to outthink him.

While Gwen was pondering her fate, she remained oblivious to a fiery glow behind her.  The glow became brighter, and then, the smell of sulfur caught her attention.  Turning around, she stared in astonishment as two immaculately dressed men emerged from a flaming ring.  She quickly hid her surprise and demanded, “Who the hell are you and how did you get into my office?”

The larger of the two men smiled at Gwen, and she felt a shiver go down her spine.  “We have a proposition for you, Ms. Stefani.”

“Proposition?” Gwen asked, her eyes narrowing.  “What kind of proposition?  And who the hell are you?”

“You may call us Mr. Dumas and Mr. Copeland,” the man replied.  He sat down in a chair, and Mr. Copeland followed suit.  “And, if you would be so kind as to offer us a drink, it would be most appreciated.”

Gwen considered the two men carefully, then poured them each a drink.  “Not to be rude,” she said, handing them each their drink, “but I am expecting someone, probably very shortly.  So, if you wouldn’t mind getting to the point, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Mr. Dumas said.  He tasted his drink, then said, “The gentleman you are expecting is an acquaintance of yours—Mr. Gerard Way.”

“He’s dead,” Gwen said flatly.  “It can’t be Way.”

“On the contrary,” Mr. Copeland said, speaking for the first time.  “Mr. Way has very powerful backers—people in high places, if you will.  To be completely blunt, Mr. Way has returned from the grave to exact revenge against the persons responsible for his death.  He has taken care of four of them.  There is one left—the individual who ordered his death.”

“That would be you, Ms. Stefani,” Mr. Dumas interjected.  “And because of Mr. Way’s benefactors, he has certain immunities that cause him, at this point, to be almost indestructible.”

“So you’re telling me I don’t have a chance against this freak,” Gwen said.

“No, no, not at all,” Mr. Copeland said.  “While Mr. Way’s benefactors have a vested interest in his success, we have a vested interest in his failure.  So, as I said before, we have a proposition for you.”

Gwen was quiet for a moment, then nodded in agreement.  “OK.  Let’s hear it.”

Part Nineteen

Gerard and Bert stood outside Gwen’s building, staring up at her window.  Bert spoke in a low voice.  “She’s not alone up there.  There are two of the others with her.”

“The others?” Gerard asked.

“Look, the people who want you to succeed have enemies.  They’re up there right now with Gwen.”

“Doing what?”

Bert sighed.  “Telling her how to fucking take you out.”

Gerard stared at Bert, then said, “OK.  So what do we do?”

Bert closed his eyes, and Gerard remained quiet, sensing that Bert needed silence.  When Bert opened his eyes again, he seems to have regained his confidence.  “OK.  Here’s what we do.”

Part Twenty

Gerard and Bert stopped a few feet from Gwen’s office door.  Bert spoke in a low voice.  “Go in.  I’ll be there when you need me.”

Gerard nodded.  “I trust you, Bert.  I know you won’t let me down.”

Bert watched as Gerard entered Gwen’s office.  When Gerard had disappeared, Bert looked up.  “I can’t let him down,” he said silently.  “I did enough of that when I was alive.”

Gerard stood in the doorway of the office.  After a few minutes, he closed the door behind him, and Gwen turned around.  Gerard noticed with unease that her eyes seemed to almost glow, and he knew that he was in for a serious fight.

“Finally worked your way around to me, huh?” Gwen asked, coming from behind her desk.  “I wondered how long it would take you.”

Gerard shrugged, keeping a watchful eye on Gwen.  “I’m here now.  You should be fucking ecstatic it took me this long to get to you.  It gave you that much longer to live.”

“You must be planning on a very different outcome than I am,” Gwen said calmly.  “Because I’m sending you back to where you fucking came from.”

Gerard smiled grimly.  “Bring it on, you murdering bitch.”

Gwen snarled at Gerard and launched herself at him.  Gerard launched himself through the air at the same time, and they met in midair, each of them with their hands tightly around the other’s throat.  They crashed to the floor, each hanging on as they rolled around.  When they finally separated, they backed away from each other, panting.

“Is that all you’ve got, zombie boy?” Gwen asked contemptuously.  “The way Good Charlotte pissed their pants every time you were mentioned, I thought you’d be more frightening.”

Gerard tossed his hair out of his eyes, sizing Gwen up.  At last, he said, “And I thought you’d be fucking taller.  Stop fucking around and let’s do this.”

Gwen smiled and pulled an object out of her pocket.  “Mr. Dumas and Mr. Copeland were very helpful about how to deal with you,” she said, her eyes glinting maliciously.  “Almost foolproof, they told me.”

“Might be foolproof, but is it bitch proof?” Gerard asked, masking his unease.

Gwen laughed aloud and lifted the object she had removed from her pocket.  Gerard’s eyes widened when he saw what it was, and he pulled his gun from his waistband, trying to level it at Gwen.  His hands began to shake, and he had to struggle to keep from dropping the gun.

“What the fuck is that?” he asked.

“it’s a piece of the bat that struck the fatal blow,” Gwen responded.  “You’re weak when you’re faced with your own mortality.”  She smiled, baring her teeth in satisfaction.  “The strength they gave me was enough to fight you off and this will finish you off.”

Gerard fell to his knees concentrating on not dropping the gun.  He felt himself growing weaker, and thought to himself, “Bert, now is a good time.”

Bert, standing outside the room, felt the energy in the room change.  Offering up a final silent plea, he forced his feet to move and walked into the office.  “Hello, Gwen.”

Gwen turned around, her attention wavering from Gerard.  When she saw Bert, her eyes widened.  “You—you can’t be here,” she finally said.  “You’re dead.”

Bert shrugged.  “So’s he,” he said, motioning at Gerard.  “Pretty spry for a dead guy, I’d say.  Although,” he added, “in about eleven minutes, he won’t be dead.  But you will be.”

“And how do you figure that’s going to happen?” Gwen asked.

“Your friends knew Gerard’s weakness,” Bert answered calmly.  “My friends knew yours.”

“Which is?”

Bert smiled.  “Me.”  He stepped forward, moving closer to Gwen.  “You killed me and it wasn’t fucking justified at all.  You killed me over five thousand dollars when we both lived in Salt Lake City.  Do you remember, Gwen?  Do you?”  He glanced at Gerard, sending him a silent message, then looked at Gwen.  “Right between her fucking eyes, G.”

“Stay away!” Gwen shrieked.  “Stay the fuck away!”

Bert stepped forward—and disappeared into Gwen’s body.  Gwen let out a horrifying, agonized wail and dropped the small piece of wood.  Gerard lifted his gun and aimed, then pulled the trigger.  A single shot rang out, and Gwen fell dead to the floor.

Bert made a face and stepped out of Gwen’s body.  “Fuck, it was like a nightmare in there,” he said.

“Is it over?” Gerard asked.

“In ten—five—one second,” Bert answered, then a warm, bright light filled the room.

Part Twenty-One

Becka sat on the couch in the living area of the warehouse, looking through a photo album.  Mikey was in the kitchen, and Ray, Frank, and Bob were all sprawled on various pieces of furniture in front of the grainy black and white television.  A knock sounded on the door, and Mikey put down his dishtowel to answer it.  Rain was pouring, loudly pounding against the roof.

Mikey opened the door and a smile spread across his face.  Tears filled his eyes and he moved forward and embraced the figure standing in front of him, holding on tightly.

“Mikey?” Becka asked, standing and walking to the door.  “Who—“  Her voice trailed as Mikey stepped aside.  When she at last was able to speak, it was only in a whisper.  “Gerard?”

Gerard smiled at her, water dripping from his hair.  “Hi, love.”

Becka began to shake.  “It can’t be you.  You—you died.”

By this time, Bob, Ray, and Frank had come to the door and were gaping at Gerard and the bedraggled wet figure behind him.  Gerard was shivering, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Mikey spoke first.  “It’s him.  He’s back, and it’s all OK.”

Mikey’s voice seemed to break through something in Becka, and she threw herself into his arms.  “You’re here, you’re real, you’re fucking alive!!”

“We’re fucking freezing,” the figure behind Gerard said.  “Can we come in?”

“My friend, Bert,” Gerard said.

“Get the fuck in here,” Frank said finally.  He looked as though he were in shock.  “And tell us why you’re fucking here.”

“Long, long story,” Gerard said as he and Bert walked in.  He looked around and suddenly burst into tears.  In one quick movement, a massive group hug ensued.

“I’m home,” Gerard said at last.  “I’m finally home.”

Part Twenty-Two

Gerard threw the last bag into the back of the large panel truck, then closed the door.  He turned to Bert, who was smoking a cigarette, and asked, “Sure you don’t want to go with us?”

“To fucking Jersey?  Hell, no.  Just drop me off in Salt Lake.”  Bert sighed.  “I’ve got my own reunion to see to.”

“How are you going to explain it?” Gerard asked.

“I don’t know if I will,” Bert replied.  “They don’t know I died—I just disappeared.”

“You never told me—“ Gerard began.

“How I died?” Bert finished.  He lit another cigarette and sat on the steps beside the house.  He was silent for a while, then said, “Me and Gwen are—were—brother and sister.”

“What?” Gerard burst out.  “She was your sister?”

“Half-sister,” Bert said.  “Same mom, different dad.  Anyway, my dad died and left me this coin collection.  I was pretty strapped for cash, so I kept the coins that meant the most to him and sold the rest to a collector for five thousand dollars.  When I came home, Gwen wanted money.  I wouldn’t give it to her—I had a pretty bad drug habit, and all I could think about was how much blow five thousand dollars could buy.  She got pissed and shot me, right between the eyes.”  Bert shrugged.  “She took the money and hid the body in the woods behind the house we lived in until—oh, a few weeks ago.”  He put out his cigarette.  “As a result of my untimely death, I have unfinished business in Salt Lake.”

Gerard was quiet, then sighed.  “I’m glad we could help each other, Bert.”

“Me, too, G.  Me, too.”  Bert laughed.  “And who knows?  We might get together again.”

“I,” Gerard said, “would be willing to bet the fucking farm on it.”

The End