HARRISON
STUMBLED INTO CENTRAL PARK
CLUTCHING THE SILVER BRIEFCASE, HIS BODY SHAKING FROM BEING HUNTED. Clouds
clogged the sky. The trees seemed like creatures towering over him. He turned
around to see the man in the Humphrey Bogart mask running toward the entrance,
a gun bulging from the guy’s inside pocket. The man’s cold eyes scanned the
park, zeroing in. Harrison took off down a dirt path
until he was alone with only the wind ringing in his ears.
He wanted to collapse; he begged
himself to just give in. Nature would destroy him soon anyway, and his shins
were starting to feel like they’d been repeatedly stabbed. He coughed up an
excess of blood and mucus that spilled down a rock. Now he’d gone so far down
the trail that he couldn’t see where he entered. The sound of footsteps came
from all directions. A distorted laugh caused all the nearby pigeons to shoot
toward the sky. The laugh was followed by an eerie whistle that became louder
and louder as he spun around expecting to see his pursuer.
A shadow passed behind a tree, bigger
than any animal. He propped himself up against a rock, too exhausted to move
any farther, closing his eyes and waiting to die. He could see tomorrow’s
headlines declaring his death as a mugging gone wrong.
“Gracie,” he cried, trembling.
“Brent, my boy…oh God.”
He had pissed himself now, the
urine hot and sticky as it trickled down his pants leg. He still held the
silver briefcase close to his chest, resolving not to let it go without a
fight.
The man in the Bogart mask emerged
from behind a tree holding a gun.
“Just hand it over, Mr. Stockton,”
the man said. The voice box attached to his mouth made him sound robotic,
weirdly calm. “You don’t want this to get any more complicated than it already
has.”
The man made a grab for the
briefcase, but Harrison held on tight.
“You’ll kill me anyway,” Harrison
yelled, spooking any pigeons that hadn’t already flown away.
“Only if you force me to do so.”
The man kicked Harrison
in the shin, causing him to nearly buckle over. Harrison
was thrown to the ground, the man pinning him down. He still managed to hold
onto the briefcase as if it was fused to his hand.
“The Boss doesn’t know about what you’ve done
yet,” the man said, hitting Harrison’s head against the
hard dirt. “Do you understand what that means? That means you can still live.
And he’ll never find out as long as we get what we’re owed.”
“Why would you do that for me?” he
asked, seeing four masked men spinning around.
The man stepped back and pointed
the gun between Harrison’s eyes.
“The Boss doesn’t like when things
don’t go according to plan. I could be in as much trouble as you for letting
this slip-up happen. So let’s make this easy for both of us.”
Harrison got
on one elbow and hoisted himself up.
“Do I have your word?”
The man nodded.
“And my family? My wife…my kids? I
wouldn’t have to worry about them being hurt?”
“As much as you might think that
you are our sole concern, we have an entire organization to run beyond your
pithy life. Now I will count to ten and if you don’t hand over the briefcase,
I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”
Harrison
thought about what his life had really amounted to. All the hours he’d slaved
at Sanford & Co., making rich people boatloads richer. Getting into the
office before dawn and often heading home in the middle of the night.
Sacrificing his family, his youth, his sanity. How it had made him into a
drinker, a serial gorger of all vices, just so he could forget about what he
was losing. After all of that, what did he have left to show?
“…8…9…10,” the man said, about to
pull the trigger.
“All right, all right.”
Harrison
handed over the briefcase. The man opened it up and appeared to be satisfied, a
smirking grin visible through his mask.
“I’ll leave you with this nugget of
wisdom,” he said, without putting the gun away. “If what you did manages to
compromise us in any way, if there are any rippling after-effects, be prepared
to come across the Boss. He’s known to wear a Clark Gable mask.” The man’s
smirk had disappeared. “He only appears when he’s ready to bloody his hands.
Good day, Mr. Stockton.”
“Who are you people? Under the
masks…who are you really?”
The man raised the gun over Harrison’s
head.
“I doubt you’ll ever find out,” he
said, and struck Harrison on the forehead with the
handle.
A trickle of blood spilled down Harrison’s
nose and felt cold on his tongue. He slunk down and rested his cheek against
the dirt, watching the man in the mask take off through the trees, the silver
briefcase shining like a beam of light snaking through the leaves. And then the
man finally disappeared—as if he was nothing more than a nightmare brought to
life and extinguished once the fitful dreamer finally woke.
Harrison
pressed against his rib cage and felt for his engorged liver. Cursed at it.
Wanted to tear it from his stomach. He’d been poisoned from within for too
long, his unending punishment for all of his crimes. Blood zigzagged into his
eyes as the wound on his forehead opened up even more. With his other hand he
reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. A thin metallic card fell from
out of a sleeve and sat in a puddle of blood that had collected in the dirt.
He
crumpled it up in his fist since it was responsible for letting these psychopaths
into his life. He knew he’d never feel completely settled again, always worried
that they might come after him and his family. The Desire Card had caused him
to seek out gruesome and despicable wishes. From the instant this devil’s
temptation had been placed in his hands, his moral compass never stood a
chance. So he chucked it into the air and watched it sail over the rocks for
some other fool to find.
“I’m
sorry, Helene,” he mumbled to the wind. He knew he’d have to come clean about
everything. His head throbbed, and he recalled a memory from twenty-five years
ago. Spying her in the quad at Chilton
College drinking a cherry Coke, tan
and shapely from field hockey, the entire campus becoming muted except for her.
He took a chance by flirting miserably and changing the course of their lives.
She would’ve
been better off if they had never met. In such a short amount of time, he’d
fallen so far. Now because of him people had been sliced up, left for dead, and
soon he’d follow them to his own grave. As he drifted off into unconsciousness,
he remembered that it all began to spiral out of control on his last day at
Sanford & Co. over a month ago, this treacherous path he embarked on, his
dark and dried-up destiny.
Nothing can brighten up a day like
hunting demons…OR…like opening up the portal to Hell!
Helena lived her life with a rigid sense of ethics until one mission
went wrong and caused her to question everything. Now she must place her
trust in a handsome demon, but at what cost? Will she have to sacrifice
redemption for love, or is this just another demonic trick?
Because she is Heaven’s favorite…unless, she switches sides!
