Johnny

Johnny
By Ian Benke

The snow falls from the gray sky. Big large flakes gliding down to the frozen ground. Johnny pulls his collar up a bit further and lights a cigarette. They finish putting all the parcels into the truck and it’s not a moment too soon. It’s a frigid cold day, a week before Christmas and the war is still going on. Johnny limps towards the cab of the truck and gives the dock on last fleeting look for the day, he’s sure as shit glad to be back in America even if it made him a gimp. He hoists himself in the passenger seat and tells Peter to wait in the back with the packages.
“No way.” Peter snaps back, his face pale and sweaty.
“Do what the fuck I tell you.” Johnny yells before closing the passenger door.
Peter does what he says and jumps in the back. The dock workers slide the metal door shut, throwing Peter into darkness. He’s surrounded by over a dozen paintings from Europe and it’s cold back there. Peter doesn’t like being the bottom guy on these jobs but he figures it’s his due. Both Johnny and Marlon went over to fight, same squad and everything. It’s no surprise then that they make Peter do all the bitch work. Usually he doesn’t care too much, he’s the only non-vet getting a cut. Not even the boss Herc gets a cut on these deals, says it’s his patriotic duty to keep his hands out. This time it’s different though. Among the regular paintings wrapped up in brown paper, there’s one in a big metal case. The thing creeps out Peter and the idea of being stuck with in the back of a dark truck for an hour makes him shiver.
They cruise through New York city with the snow falling. Christmas decorations are thrown up everywhere. Johnny laughs as they pass by a man dressed up like Santa Claus ringing a big bell.
“Fuck em.” Johnny says before throwing a cigarette butt at Santa.
Marlon forces a smile and keeps his eyes on the road. He just follows orders and doesn’t want to say anything to Johnny. Flicking a butt at a charity guy is pretty cold Marlon thinks, but then again Johnny is the coldest. Marlon learned that and he’s got the scars to prove it. Overseas Johnny was his captain, in New York Johnny is his boss. Marlon knows it’s good to be on that side of things. Johnny lights another smoke and the gray smoke lingers out of his mouth before getting sucked out of the cracked window. If the Nazis jumps the pond and come here, well Marlon knows that Johnny would be the man to be near around. That sick bastard would kill all of them before they’d get half way through New York.
Ya Johnny is a cold guy, but good to have in a fight.
Marlon always seems to be in a fight.
Nazis or gangsters.
Ya Johnny is a good guy to be around.
It takes them over an hour to the get there, on account of the weather. Now it’s really coming down and the sun has set. Johnny jumps out of the cab and marches through the snow to let Peter out. Marlon goes and opens up the cellar door just like every time. It’s a sweet bracket they got going here. After that grenade went off and sent Marlon and Johnny back home in a wheel chair, they’ve kept in touch. Their buddies loot old shelled out buildings and ship off the paintings back home. Johnny sells them to this hack art collector, some New York big wig with too much money. He shells over the big bucks and the soldiers and veterans get a nice kick back package, bigger than anything Uncle Sam can dish out. The three men start hauling the pictures down the cellar stairs.
The Collector is already waiting for them. In his dark stone cellar he’s waiting for them so he can examine the paintings. He’s always so giddy, says these things will be worth millions one day. Johnny doesn’t care while he blithers to them. He just wants to drop off the stuff, get paid and head back into the city. The save the big metal one for last. The thing weighs a ton and the three men struggle to get it down. Johnny doesn’t have an eye for art, but something about this last one is making him curious. The boys in Europe don’t spend much time getting them ready to ship. They certainly wouldn’t find a big metal case for one, especially seeing how they didn’t send a key for it. That means the boys in Europe haven’t even seen it. That’s got Johnny real curious. After they haul it down the stairs Johnny asks the Collector if his got a pry bar. The fat man runs out of the room to go get one. Seems Johnny isn’t the only curious one.
“Let’s just get out of here.” Peter says while trying to warm up his hands.
“You don’t get to call the shots Pete. Now shut up if you want to get paid.” Johnny snaps back at him.
“Maybe he’s right Johnny. I don’t like that thing. Gives me the willies.” Marlon says and Johnny just laughs.
“Bunch a babies I got here.” He smiles.
Johnny takes his suit coat off and rolls up his sleeves. With a crow bar in hand he wedges it against the lock and starts to pry.
“Son of a bitch!” She shouts at the lock.
After a couple of minutes there’s a crack and the sound of metal falling onto stone. Johnny stands back with the crow bar in hand. His black slicked back hair is untidy now, his white shirt is sweaty. His holster sits across his chest, the black chrome of his gun reflecting orange from the lights.
Johnny swings open the metal case. It’s a large oil painting depicting some sort of figure. It’s a naked person with a snake wrapped out around it. They can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman. The creature is completely hairless and it’s eyes are black. It’s mouth is curled into a smile showing a set a fangs. It’s skin is cracked from the canvas and it fills the room full of dread. To Marlon it smells like war, to Peter it smells like rot. The cellar feels colder than the snow storm outside and those black eyes just stare at them.
Johnny lights a smoke.
“What an ugly fucker.” He says throw a cloud of smoke.
“I don’t want it.” The Collector says harshly.
“What do you mean you don’t want it? You buy whatever the hell I bring.” Johnny turns to face the Collector. He’s much taller and skinner than the Collector. The Collector is a fat short man with a walrus like mustache. He stinks like cigars and sweat. Johnny is tall and fit with dark hair. He’s intimating looking and professional.
“It means I don’t want to buy you punk kid!” The Collector yells and his voice is echoed in the stone cellar.
Johnny pulls his gun out and aims it at the Collector.
“You can’t muscle me kid, do you know who the fuck I am?” he fat man says confidently but Johnny keeps the gun aimed.
“You know who the fuck I am? You give me my money and figure out the hell to do with this creepy piece of shit. I don’t care for your review you fat piece of shit.” Johnny keeps the gun aimed.
Before the Collector can reply all the lights shut off plunging them into blackness. The wind howls outside and the four men are confused.
“What the fuck happened!” Johnny shouts but no one replies. The room becomes even colder. At first it just sounds like the wind but in a couple of minutes the men can hear the canvas ripping. Something tearing out of it. Johnny flips out his cigarette lighter and clicks the flint. It casts a small orange sphere of light and Johnny turns towards Marlon. His jaw is open in confusion and behind him is the creature from the painting. Bald and alien it’s staring right at Johnny.
Suddenly flames erupt out of the light bulbs above throwing light all around them. Johnny yells at Marlon to duck and in a split second Marlon is belly down on the cold floor and Johnny is firing rounds. Three rounds connect into the Creature’s skull but it only laughs. The snake coiling itself around the Creature spits the bullets to the floor.
“What the hell are you?” Johnny quietly asks. 
“I’m the devil Johnny, and I’m here just to talk to you boys.” The Creature smiles showing it’s two fangs hanging down. The Collector screams and runs for the door. In lightening quick moment the Creature is on the other side of the room and grabs the fat man. The Creature wraps it’s long skeletal figures around the man’s head. The Collector’s eyes roll back into his head and he starts to shake. Johnny can see the man piss his pants. The Creature let’s go and the Collector falls to the floor.
“Now we’re alone.”
The Creature walks on cloven feet towards them. It’s bizarre hairless hoofs clicking on the stone.
“I don’t believe in you.” Johnny lights a cigarette and stares at the Creature. It howls with laughter. 
“You don’t believe in me?” The Creature grabs Marlon by his blonde hair and the room fills with his screams. Marlon’s eyes roll back like the Collector but he doesn’t piss his pants. After a couple of a seconds the Creature lets go and Marlon collapses onto the floor.
“Jesus Christ!” Marlon yells, “They were just fucking kids Johnny, we didn’t need to do it!” Marlon is crying on the floor and Johnny spits on him.
“Shut the hell up you goddamn coward.” He flicks his cigarette at the Creature.
“I don’t believe in devil and god you freak. There ain’t nothing that scares me.” Johnny says to it and the Creature grabs his black hair.
Johnny floats out of the cellar and is back in France. They captured a town and there were some Germans holed up in a butcher shop. That’s where Johnny is now, caught in some memory from his head. They surrounded the troops and disarmed them. The Germans wanted to surrender and they told them in broken english. It was war and these were his enemies. They were all about the same age, the Americans and the Germans in the butcher shop. Some of the Germans had wedding bands, so did some of the Americans. They all had families waiting for them somewhere, but none of that mattered to Johnny. He order them to be made an example.
“Strike the fear of America into them.” Were his orders.
He made them use meat hooks. To rip into the soft under part of their jaw and hang them from the rafters. These were Johnny orders and some of his own troops vomited or fainted while they did it.
This was what Johnny wanted because they were his enemies.
The Creature lets go of Johnny and he is sucked out of the blood filled memory and is back in the cellar. He is on the ground taking in huge deep breathes while the Creature stands above him.
“I still don’t believe in you.” Johnny hoists himself off of the floor.
The Creature looks at him curiously.
“I’m worse than anything some crack pot artists could put onto canvas. You want to show me my memories go ahead. I don’t regret nothing freak. I’m a monster worse than any devil and guess what, I’m a man. Nothing more.” The cellar is plunged briefly back into darkness. The flames go away and the electric glow fills the cellar again.
The Collector gets to his feet, his face pale and his knees wobbly. Marlon and Peter without saying a word leave the cellar and go back into the storm. Johnny pulls a comb out and slicks back his hair.
“Now give me my money.” He says calmly.
The Collector looks towards the painting and the Creature is back in it and staring at him.
“Are you kidding me!” He screams at Johnny, “What evil have you let into my house!” His voice is desperate and insane sounding. Johnny pulls out his pistol and shots the man once in the heart. He flips over his body and checks his jacket until he finds a wad of bills. Johnny stuffs the money into his pockets and feels relieved. He is finally off the clock and can go home to relax. He holsters his gun and walks toward the exit, no better feeling than quitting for the day.