I Kill Monsters: The Revenants (Book 2) (43 page)

The cue ball cracked against the others, the
fans turning slowly overhead. Doules polished his glasses, stopping
to answer the phone on the bar.

When he handed the receiver to Spasso, Johnny
listened, said
uh
-
huh
, listened, went
uh
-
huh
, finally said
okay
and hung up. The men
at the bar looked at Johnny expectantly.

Spasso nodded and the toothpick hanging from
Sully’s jaw straightened. Johnny took one more sip from his soda,
“Let’s go.”

Outside they stood around on the sidewalk,
waiting on Bum to bring a car around for them.

One of the two old guys in the chairs was
eye-balling Cassidy, Cassidy looking back over his shoulder once at
the man.

“You want to know what he just said?” Katonah
had invited himself along, standing there with the others, his hair
all spiked up, a leather coat on top of his rayon shirt. Cassidy
was convinced the kid got his eye brows sculpted too.

“No,” Cassidy said, but Katonah told him
anyway: “He just said, what he just said—
Ch’a
t’possina
cachia
cchio
e
ti
metto
in
mano
.”

Nunz looked at Katonah as he said it,
unimpressed.

“Means,” Katonah with a drunken smile, “he’s
gonna take your eyes out of your face and put ‘em in your hands.
That’s
my Uncle.” Proud of the fact. “You know he was asking
the boys they could get a bazooka? Now what’s an eighty-somethin’
year old man doin’ wantin’ a bazooka you think?”

“Where we goin’ anyway?” Cassidy asked
Spasso.

“The Moses Houses.”

“Niggerville,” blurted Katonah. “You’ll
‘scuse the expression.”

“No.” Cassidy gave the younger man the
attention he’d been after. “I don’t think I will.”

A dark Dodge van pulled up, Bum Aulisi
getting out, squatting down in the street, going to work swapping
out the plates.

“Tony,” Spasso warned Katonah as they got
into the van. “He punches you in the mouth, I ain’t gonna say
anything.”

“Why’d he want to do that?”

Sully adjusted the rear view mirror.

“Hey Sul,” Katonah held up a CD. “Play
this.”

“No CD player.”

“I got a cassette too.” Katonah searched
inside his leather coat.

Nunz the Wop whispered something under his
breath.

“I believe you know my son,” she’d replied,
baring her fangs.

Boone looked at her and shook his head.
“Great.” It all made sense now. “Just great.” Once again he was
getting cosmically fucked. “Tell you what, if you’re going to kill
me, just fucking kill me already.”

“That remains to be seen.”

The driver continued to look straight ahead,
taking the sedan onto a highway.

Boone stared down between his legs at the
leather seats, mumbling under his breath, thinking of Rainford and
others he wasn’t finished with yet.

“What’s that?”

“Bullshit. I said this is all bullshit.”

They drove in silence for some time, Boone
staring at his hands. When the sedan pulled over and she told him
to get out, Boone got out, the chauffeur holding the woman’s door.
They were on some secondary road, pulled up near a windmill.
Headlights shone on the highway some distance off. The windmill’s
blades turned slowly in the night.

Spotting Stash standing there, Boone breathed
a sigh of relief.

When Stash showed up, the situation was never
good, but the ghost had this way of stepping in every time Boone’s
life was in danger and lending a hand.

Boone waved at Stash but the apparition
remained where it was.

“I have a theory.” Kreshnik’s mother looked
from Boone to the revolver in her hand, like she was mulling some
decision. “It’s probably nothing, but perhaps not.” She aimed the
revolver straight at Boone’s face. “Would you help me test it
out?”

“The fuck?” Boone looked past her to Stash
just standing there staring back at him, Stash doing nothing. “Well
what?” He demanded of the apparition only he could see. “You gonna
do somethin’ then?”

She thought he was talking to her. “You knew
my son.” She cocked the revolver. “And I think you know my
ex-husband.” She steadied the .44. “He called me Elizaveta.”

“Wait a minute—”

Boom
!

Boone went down, most of the top of his head
a mishmash of red, grey matter and skull shards strewn in the dirt.
Elizaveta lowered the revolver and waited, watching the unmoving
body.

Arms crossed, her chauffer shifted his weight
from one foot to the next.

“No,” she remarked to the night after some
time had passed, “No, I guess I was wrong.” She returned to the
car, her driver holding the door open for her, leaving the body
where it lay.

The windmill blades turned lazily in the
evening air.

Tony Monchinski, PhD, is a high school
teacher in New York State. His other novels include
Eden
and
Crusade
, both published by Permuted Press. Tony, who would
like to hear from readers of
I
Kill
Monsters
:
Fury
(
[email protected]
), lives
with his family in Peekskill, New York.