After Midnight (10 page)

“Hi, Mommy!” it said, opening its arms for a cold embrace.

Anna screamed.

Anna sat awake the rest of the night in the living room, watching the television and trying not to think about the dream or about Sarah. She thought too much of her. It wasn’t healthy. In fact, it was downright morbid sometimes.

She couldn’t help it, though. Damn it, how do you
not
think about your lost child? How do you
not
feel the agony, the anguish, the guilt, the remorse?

You didn’t. Nothing on earth could ease that sort of pain.
Nothing. You just dealt with it, and either overcame it or collapsed under it.

It seemed that dawn took forever to come. One boring infomercial after another crept by before the sky turned a sickly blue over the roofs across the street. She checked in on Jack, who was still feeling awful, and
then woke Jake for school. She usually had no trouble from him, but this morning he was feeling a little under the weather.

Great
, Anna thought, checking his forehead and finding it hot
, two for the price of one.

He still wanted to go, however. Something about a special project they were doing. He was so excited
; Anna couldn’t say no to him.

While he was getting ready, she went down into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on. While she was pouring herself a cup, the front door opened and Adam came in.

“Morning, Mrs. M, how’re you?” he chirruped.

“Fine.
How’re you, Adam?”

“Never better!”

He looked it, too. In fact, he looked better than Ann could ever remember him looking. He wasn’t so gaunt anymore, and his color was…ruddy. Hmmm.
Wonder what he did last night to perk himself up so much
. Probably saw a woman.

“You certainly look good.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking a thermos from the ‘fridge, “I think I was feeling kinda sick here lately, but now…like I said, never better.”

“Jack’s really sick, and Jake’s getting there too.” She sighed.

Adam looked worried. “Like how?”

Anna shrugged. “Flu, I think.”

“Hell, I hope
I
didn’t give it to them.”

“I bet Jake brought it home from school.” She reached into a cabinet and brought out a bowl. She sat it on the table, and put a spoon beside it for Jake’s breakfast. “You know
how germy schools are.”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “Well, I’m
gonna go to bed. Really tired.”

“Okay,” Anna replied, opening the ‘fridge and taking a gallon of milk out. “Sleep well.”

“I will.”

Once Jake was on the bus, Anna lay down on the couch and dozed, a fitful rest, haunted by disturbing and foreboding images that couldn’t rightly be called dreams. On finally waking fully around noon, Anna couldn’t remember most of them. One she
could
was one that bothered her the most. Sarah’s room was back to the way it used to be before Adam moved in, and there was dirt on the bed.

The day turned rainy again around one. The school called at half-past for her to come and get Jake. He was too sick to finish the day. She ran out and picked him up, calling the doctor’s office and making an appointment en route.

Jake was in the nurse’s office when she got there, his face white and sweaty, his eyes blurry and unfocused.

“Are you okay, Jake?” she asked, flying to his side and kneeling down.

“Yeah,” he weakly replied, “just tired.”

“I’m taking you to Dr. Ma
inwaring.”

“
Aww, mom, come on, I’m okay.”

She signed him out at the front desk and held his hand through the parking lot. Normally he would have squealed and recoiled had she done that, but today he squeezed her hand and shuffled his feet.

“How do you feel?” she worriedly asked as she pulled out of the parking lot.

“Like kaka.”

“Like…how? Queasy? Headachey?”

“Just…really icky.
And tired.”

As the doctor
examined Jake, Anna sat in a corner, consumed with worry bordering on near-hysteria. This didn’t look like the flu to her. What if it was something awful? She was fighting to breathe normally by the time Manwaring told Jake to put his shirt on, gave him a sucker, and told him to go back to the waiting room.

Sighing, he stiffly sank down onto his stool.

“What’s wrong with him?” Anna blurted.

Manwar
ing smiled. “Nothing major, just a touch of the flu.”

“The flu?
Are you sure?”

“Oh, pretty much so.
Plenty of fluids and bed rest. You know the drill.”

Not entirely convinced, Anna drove Jake back home, left him in bed, and ran out for groceries. Jack was awake and getting a cup of coffee when she came back. He looked awful.

She told him about Jake and taking him to the doctor.

“I could have told you that,” he said, “and for free. Stop worrying so much.”

“But…”

“Annie,” he said, hugging her, “Annie, Annie. It’s okay. You’re just overcautious because of Sarah.”

She stiffened in his arms. “Jack, that’s not…”

Was it?

She sighed. “Maybe a little.”

Jack smiled wanly. “What’s for dinner? I could eat a horse or two.”

“Chili and rice.”

Jack smiled again. “You’re too good to me, babe.”

That night another nightmare woke Anna around three. Again, she spent the rest of the night before the television. Jake was too sick to go in to school.

Adam didn’t come in his usual time, which for some reason worried Anna. It was dark and nasty out, the rain falling in droves and the weatherman on FOX saying it’d be like that most of the day.

She was at the sink for almost ten minutes, absorbed in her
own thoughts, when suddenly hands were on her hips, and Jack was kissing her neck.

“Jack!” she cried, shocked, though inexplicable desire was rising in her stomach.
“Stop! What if Jake…?”

His hands were moving up her stomach,
were cupping her breasts, cupping her throat.

“Umm.
Jack.”

He was nibbling her ear now, his throbbing penis poking her butt through both their jeans.

She felt her groin begin to moisten and her nipples became erect.

“Like it, don’t you?” asked Adam Carver.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she turned. There stood Adam, his eyes wide and wild, seemingly yellow.

“Adam!” she screeched. “What are you doing?”

He smiled. “Nothing, Anna, just showing you how I feel about you.”

She opened her mouth, but could not form words.

“Truth is,” Adam went on, “I like you a lot.” He giggled, and it was then that Anna saw his teeth.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’d like to eat you all up.”

He lunged at Anna, but she ducked out of the way, and he slammed into the counter, knocking the drain
tray over and spilling its contents onto the floor in a shattering shower.

“Bitch!” he cried as he spun on his heels. Anna, paralyzed with fear, stood as he as came forward, his fangs overhanging his lower lip. “
C’mere,” he panted, but she broke and dashed into the living room.

“Jack!” she screamed as she fell back to the sitars, never taking her eyes off of Adam, who was now merrily strolling through the room like a serial killer in one of those nineties movies.

“Jack!” she screamed.

“What?” he asked from behind her, startling her. She turned, and Jack stood on the third to last step, his hand resting on the polished banister.

“Jack, help me! Adam…” she couldn’t finish her thought in words, so she pointed to the young man and shook her finger.

Jack’s face darkened as he looked at Adam. The younger man shrugged and
smiled, his canine teeth large and sharp.

“You were going to rape her?” Jack asked sharply as he came down the stairs.

“What are you?” Anna managed to finally scream at Adam.

Adam stood defiantly where he was, grinning. “Nope, I was
gonna drank her fucking blood, Jacko.”

From behind her Jack chuckled.
“Not if I do first.”

Anna was wrenched back by her hair
, screaming, and two points of fiery agony pierced her throat.

In a whirlwind of blind, mindless pain, Anna thrashed against Jack’s strong arms, which were wrapped around her waist. She screamed even louder when Adam approached, smiling. He grabbed her
breasts and squeezed as hard as he could, before leaning in for his own taste of her blood.

She balled her fist and flailed weakly at her attackers, but the world was swiftly graying. She began to slacken, and would have fallen if not for vampires holding her.

The last thing she heard as she sank into the echoey chambers of death was Jake’s voice from the stairs. “Save me some, guys!”

A lot of people might call me a rat, and, when you get right down to it, I guess I am. The thing is, I didn’t squeal on my own. I loved the mob life. Hell, if I had my way, I’d still be in Ozone Park, busting heads and making book, you know? I only turned state’s because I had a price on my head. It was either that, or wind up stuffed in the trunk of an abandoned car on a street in Maspeth.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Why was I marked? What did I do? The mafia doesn’t just kill people for no reason; though they have a bad reputation, they’d much rather focus on making money than blowing people away. Long story short, I was
gonna be killed because I let the guys in my crew deal.

See, I was a
capo
in the Mortanno Family, which, put simply, made me equivalent to a manager at McDonalds. I had guys working under me, but I was just a middle man, you know? I had some control, yeah, obviously, and I “misused” it.

The mafia white-collars don’t put up with drug dealing. And it’s not because they’re “men of honor” or any nonsense like that. The reason is, dealing drugs can put a man away for a
long
time, and that sort of thing promotes ratting, see? Tattle on your buddies and avoid going to prison for fifty years. We blue-collar types still do it, but we have to be secret about it. When I was first promoted to
capo
in 1979, I toed the family line: Deal and die. That was the motto. Deal and die. But around 1984, I changed my tune. I mean, there’s a lot of money to be made in shit like coke and meth.
Not
doing it is stupid. You know?

Anyway, one of my guys got caught in ’91, and he ratted.
Took a lot of guys down, me included. I was gonna do my time like a man, I was, but then the feds came to me one day and played a tape for me where Don Adolf and a couple of his guys were planning my murder. They were gonna use a stoolie, have him shank me in my cell.

That decided me. I gave these assholes thirty years of my life, made them
millions
, and they were gonna whack me out like nothing. Fuck ‘em. I turned state’s evidence, and Don Adolf went down, took all of his butt buddies with him. Thirty murder charges. They’ll
never
get out.

Now, it wasn’t easy. Don Adolf was a very hands-off
kinda boss. They couldn’t stick anything to him.

Until I opened up about the ’81 War.

The ’81 War is one of those legendary underworld events, kinda like the St. Valentine’s Massacre. Of all the mob wars ever fought, ’81 was the bloodiest and highest profile. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Dozens of guys dead over the span of a few hours. I didn’t kill anyone, but I was there when...

You know, let me back up,
give you a little history.

The
Mortanno Family was founded by Vinnie Mortanno in 1931 after the Turks Uprising. That’s when a bunch of young, Americanized wiseguys overthrew the older, hardline traditional Sicilians.

Don
Mortanno had three sons: Michael, Frank, and Johnny, all of them eventually joining up. Mike was the oldest, born in 1924. Second oldest was his daughter, Marie, in ’26.

In 1945, Marie met this guy named Josef Zimmer, a kraut, born in Brooklyn, and they fell in love. Don
Mortanno wasn’t happy about it, but Marie was his little princess, you know, so he bit his lip. They got married in ’46, and Don Mortanno gave Zimmer a little numbers racket to run, but didn’t want him having too much to do with family business. Zimmer understood, and everyone was happy.

In 1954, Don
Mortanno had a stroke and died. Michael was set to take over, but, as fate would have it, he wrecked on the causeway and wound up burning to death before they could pull him out.

The next in line was Frankie, but he was a drunk and no one trusted him, so they skipped him over and gave the spot to Johnny.

Around this time, Zimmer (Joey the Kraut, as he was called) started wanting to have more to do with the family. Johnny always kinda liked him, so he let him. Mainly, Joey was Johnny’s personal assistant, bodyguard, that sort of thing.

In 1960, a bunch of guys in the Gino Crew tried to take over the family. They sent a
hitman to kill the new Don while he was Christmas shopping for his kids. Long story short, the guy shot Don Mortanno in the middle of fucking Woolworth’s. Joey the Kraut was with him, and chased the guy into the street and put a bullet in his head.

When the police showed up, they took Joey away and charged him with manslaughter and possession of an illegal weapon. Don
Mortanno was taken to the hospital and recovered.

Joey the Kraut wound up doing three years; he was set to do a solid six, but Don
Mortanno used his connections to get the time cut in half.

When Joey got out, Don
Mortanno welcomed him as one of the family. Up until then, he really wasn’t, you know? One of the family, that is. But he proved himself, whacking the shooter out and keeping his mouth shut. Don Mortanno, thereafter, always referred to him as “My brother” and “A friend of mine,” meaning that family business,
all
family business, could be discussed around him.

In 1966, the family’s
consigliere, basically second-in-command, died, and Don Mortanno passed over every Italian in the family (his brother included) and gave the job to Joey the Kraut. This was a pretty unprecedented move. Shit like that just didn’t happen.

Joey was good in the role, so whatever. Then the unthinkable happened.

In early 1981, Don Mortanno got sick, real sick. They said it was cancer, but a lot of people now think it was AIDS. He had a shitload of young playthings, and at least one of them definitely had it, ‘cause she died in 1983 after years of illness.

Before he died, Don
Mortanno retired. His brother was in jail serving a fifteen year sentence for mowing down a guy in Newark while drunk, so Joey the Kraut inherited the family.

The mob is a very...ethnic institution. If you aren’t full Italian, you can never be made, or become a full member. You can be an associate, whatever, but you can’t rise up the ranks. Joey the Kraut was the first non-Italian boss of a crime family ever. And that didn’t sit well in New York.
The boss of the Genovese Family at the time especially.

Don
Mortanno died in September. Less than a month later, Don Joey (or Don Adolf, as the guys knew him) was shot as he and Marie were eating dinner in this Italian place in Queens.

The bullet hit him in the arm and he was fine, but,
boy, was he pissed. He knew who it was right off the bat, and he started planning revenge.

On October 31, Don Adolf called a meeting of all
capos
and basically ordered us to decimate the Genovese Family.

The war officially began at noon on November 15. A carful of guys opened up on a pizzeria owned by a Genovese
capo
, killing three.

Next, the same car rounded a corner and sprayed a social club owned by
another
Genovese guy, wasting two more guys.

That alone probably would have been good enough, but Don Adolf was on the warpath.

Around two’o’clock, three made Genovese guys were climbing into their studebaker in Flatlands when a bomb under their car went off, killing all of them. An hour later, a team of wiseguys pretending to be feds kidnapped another
capo
in Midtown and blew his brains out. Ten minutes later, a grenade flew through the window of a Genovese-owned bar in Hell’s Kitchen and blew a few limbs off.

All through this, I was at the cabstand I operated out of. At ten that night, I was ordered to take a bunch of my soldiers to a Genovese bar down the street and kill everyone I found. It was
Thursday, and apparently the bar closed early and a bunch of made men played cards.

There were ten of us. We piled into a van, me at the wheel, and drove on over; everyone was packing AK-47s, Uzis, pistols...it was crazy.

We parked a few streets over and went the rest of the way on foot. Around back, we found a loading dock and were gonna go in, but some asshole opened up the door, you know, coming out with a bag of trash. I was in the lead, so I shot him in the head. (I forgot about that until just now).

After that, we stormed in like the S.W.A.T team or something.

In the back, we found seven guys around a table, playing poker, smoking, that sort of thing. We caught ‘em off guard, so they couldn’t even reach for their guns.

I had a guy pat ‘
em down and take their pieces, then I made ‘em stand up against the wall. Once they were all in a line, two guys massacred their asses. Then, before we left, we lit the place on fire.

That was pretty much it for me. We went back to the cabstand and waited for a retaliatory strike.

It never came.

Overnight, other crews throughout the city broke into the homes of Genovese
capos
and murdered them and their families. There were thirty crews in the Genovese Family at the time, meaning there were thirty
capos
. By three in the morning, we’d killed ten of them.

Around dawn, one of our guys sneaked out to the
Genovese’s boss’s estate on Long Island and hit it with a rocket launcher. He was ordered to hit the boss’s bedroom. Instead, he blew up the front of the house, collapsed it into a pile of rubble. I heard they killed him for that.

Less than an hour later, or so I heard, the boss called Don Adolf and begged him to call his guys off.

Later that day, I got it through the chain of command that Don Adolf and the Genovese boss were gonna meet and discuss terms for a truce.

The meeting took place at a restaurant the family owned on the tip of Long Island. The Genovese boss was told to come with his underboss and a team of bodyguards, but no one else. On the other hand, Don Adolf came with two full crews of made guys (about two dozen heads), while a bunch of us went undercover and watched from afar.

Obviously, I wasn’t inside, so I don’t know what happened. I heard that Don Adolf had the Genovese’s boss’s guys searched, took their guns, then had ‘em stood up against the wall and shot. I also heard he made the boss beg for forgiveness on his knees, and then shot him in the head. Either way, the entire Genovese administration died that day.

And Don Adolf?

No one ever fucked with him again...until I turned state’s. Once all of his capos and made men were gone, he lasted maybe an hour; they found him in a dumpster.

Stupid Kraut, didn’t know shit about family business.