Kill the King (17 page)

Tyler fell deep
into quiet, mournful contemplation. The sight and sound of children
at play was something he had never before appreciated until this
very moment. A small girl in particular caught his eye; she was
short and dainty, her long dark locks tied together with a pretty
pink bow. Her voice had an endearing squeak to it whenever she
spoke or laughed. She couldn’t have been older than seven at the
most. When he saw her enthusiastically dive into a large pile of
orange and red leaves, he couldn’t help but smile—if but only for a
second. She looked so happy and so beautiful. It was a grim
reminder of his loss; not solely the loss of the only woman he had
ever grown to love, but also the loss of what might have been.

Maybe they
could have found a little
casita
somewhere by the edge of
the world, just like Gloria wanted. Maybe they could have lived a
tranquil, quiet retirement in blissful anonymity. . .perhaps even
raise a family of their own. They had at last a real chance to
start anew. His heart sank at the thought of it. There was no
family for him to call his own. There was only the
Family
…a
cruel mockery of what he could never truly have. That Family was in
name only. Only Gloria could have given him what he wanted. It was
too late for that now.

Gone. . .it’s
all gone. Our dreams. Our life. Everything is gone. I’ve failed
you, Gloria. It’s all gone because of me.

Being so
frequently in contact with death throughout his career had numbed
him of its aftermath. He had long forgotten the cruel sting of
grief. Gloria’s death was a reintroduction to the world of sorrow.
To add further insult to injury, his rediscovered sense of mourning
gave him the unwelcome burden of hindsight; Gloria would still be
alive were it not for him. He shouldn’t have knocked on her door
that rainy night, stolen money in hand. He shouldn’t have convinced
her to escape without him. He shouldn’t have been so rash and
foolish. His anguish pained him down to his rotten black core,
never ceasing to remind him of the bitter truth: Gloria was gone
forever, and he could only blame himself for what happened to her.
It was a lonely, tormented thought for a lonely, tormented man.

The children
soon left the park and went their separate ways. Tyler stood alone
on the rooftop wondering what to do with himself now that both
Gloria and the money had perished in the fire. Should he try to
disappear on his own and leave it to fate to decide how far he
could make it? Could he actually succeed in killing Marko if he
tried again? Would Dr. Nieuwendyk and Rickards really hold their
end of the bargain if Marko were to die? Tyler wondered whether
there was even a real choice to begin with. He felt doomed no
matter which path he chose.

Fight and die,
or run and die. I don’t have enough bullets to kill them all. I
can’t run away far enough to save myself. The pawn isn’t in control
of the game. . .it’s his destiny to die.

Tyler’s
thoughts were interrupted by someone calling him from the street
below. He looked down but saw no one.

“Hey mister!
Mister!”

The shouts kept
coming. He looked down again and saw someone very small looking up
at him. It was the little girl he saw playing at the park. She was
fiddling with the zipper of her pink jacket. Tyler was
befuddled.

“Are you
talking to me?”

The girl
nodded. “My zipper is stuck. Can you help me, mister?”

She stared at
him from below, her eyes wide open and unblinking. It was somehow
enough to compel Tyler to descend from the fire escape and meet her
at the bottom of the steps. He squatted down to her level and fixed
her zipper. The girl smiled and pulled the hood over her head.

“Thanks. Why
are you sad, mister?”

Tyler rose to
his feet and turned his back towards the fire escape. He wasn’t
interested in prolonging this encounter. “I’m not sad. Go to
school, kid.”

The girl
wouldn’t let up. “Yes you are, mister. You’re a very sad man. Why
are you so sad?”

Tyler sighed,
unused to the persistence of a precocious child.

“Okay kid. .
.yeah, I’m sad. I’m sad because I’ve lost someone. There was this
lady that I loved very much, and now I’ve lost her. She’s
gone.”

“Oh. Did you
try to find her?”

“I can’t. It’s
not that kind of
gone,
kid.”

She stared at
him blankly, not understanding.

“Where was the
last place you saw her?”

“On the street
where she lived.”

“You should go
look for her there. If she’s not there, you’ll still feel
better.”

“Why?”

“Because if
she’s not there, you can say goodbye. My mommy told me that
sometimes we have to say goodbye, even if we don’t want to. She
said that sometimes life can be mean and not very fair. She told me
that saying goodbye can help us grow.”

Tyler squatted
low again to meet her at eye level.

“Your mom
sounds very smart. I think you’re very smart too.”

The little girl
smiled. Her mouth was missing several teeth. She plunged her hand
into her jacket pocket and placed a rock in Tyler’s hand. It was
white and smooth.

“Why are you
giving me this?”

“When my dog
ran away from home, I was very sad. I went to the park and put a
rock where we used to play together. That way if he comes back
there again and sees it, he’ll know that I said goodbye but I will
always love him. Now I don’t feel so sad anymore.”

Tyler smiled.
“That’s a nice idea. Thanks, kid.”

The girl smiled
and walked away. Halfway down the street, she looked back and
shouted at him.

“Mister! What’s
your name?”

“Tyler. What’s
yours?”

“
Gloria!
Goodbye, Tyler!”

Tyler rubbed
his thumb along the rock’s smooth surface as he watched her walk
away to the nearby school. He tried to call back to her but he
couldn’t speak louder than a whisper.

“Gloria. . .I’m
sorry. I’m so sorry.”

****

Tyler found
himself back on Gloria’s street. The neighbourhood still reeked of
gasoline, scorched tires and burnt flesh. Emergency services seldom
ever came to this part of the city and it was doubtful that they
ever came here to put out the fire and take Gloria away. Whatever
exactly happened to her body, Tyler did not know.

A makeshift
memorial had since replaced the exact place where she had died. The
singed asphalt was shrouded with bouquets, candles, rosaries, and
hand-written notes. Tyler read them all; they were poorly-written
but heartfelt. Some were so deeply personal, Tyler at first thought
that they were written for someone else entirely. They revealed to
him a side of her that he never knew existed. It was a side he
would have loved to have seen. This new revelation only made him
all the more miserable.

A gentle hand
patted him on the back. Tyler didn’t need to turn around to see who
it was. He knew it was the kind old woman from the day before.

“Hello again,
my dear boy. Have you come back to pay your respects?”

“Yeah. .
.something like that.”

She gave him a
warm reassuring smile and held his hand in both of hers. They were
rough and calloused from years of hard work and smelled of talcum
powder.

“You loved this
young woman. I can sense it. You do not look like a man whose heart
has a place inside it to love many others. She must have been very
special to you.”

Tyler’s head
hung low, averting his eyes.

“Yes.”

“That’s not why
you came back here, is it? You didn’t come here only to grieve for
her. No, that’s not why at all. There is no need to come here
solely for mourning. You came here for another reason. . .didn’t
you?”

“I. . .I don’t
understand.”

“Don’t worry,
dear. It will come to you. Tell me, that awful man they found
hanged on a flag pole this morning. . .that was your work, wasn’t
it?

Tyler didn’t
respond. She held his hand tightly and looked him square in the
eye.

“I know who you
are, and I know what you’ve done. You are a
wicked
man,
Tyler Kwan. From wicked men come wicked deeds. That poor young
woman died because of you, and so did that horrid man. Many died
before them, and more will die after them. You seem to be more
devoted to
death
than you are to
life
. Why then,
should you be so surprised to see the woman you love die before you
as well?”

Tyler was
aghast. “Who are you?”

“Have you ever
asked yourself that same question before? Better yet. .
.
what
are you?”

“Listen,
lady—”

“No child, you
listen to
me
. I’ll tell you what you are—
a monster.
Yes, that’s right. You’re a monster disguised in a man’s skins,
pretending to be something that he can never be. There are more
monsters in this world than there are men. Some know what they are
and they embrace it without shame, much like that man you hanged.
Some struggle to become men by avoiding what they are deep inside,
and they will always fail. Others—like you—keep trying to live a
lie. You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing, not fooling anyone but
himself.”

Tyler broke
away from her grip and walked away. He wasn’t having any of this
preaching from some old bitch, least of all at the place where
Gloria was murdered. He was in enough pain as it was. There was no
need to rub salt in his wounds.

The old woman
would not let him escape so easily. She followed him down the
street.

“You came back
here because you wanted to be forgiven. Isn’t that right, child?
Are you looking for forgiveness? Are you looking for absolution for
all of your past misdeeds, and the ones that are still to come? Is
that it? Are you still foolish enough to seek forgiveness?”

“
No!”

Her stare was
powerful with righteous indignation. His was that of a cornered
animal unused to being treated like prey.

“Then what
do
you want, Tyler? You came here looking for something.
What
do
you seek, child?”

Tyler’s chest
and shoulders heaved. He stood close enough for her to feel his
hot, angry breath.

“Justice. I
want justice! That’s all I want.
Justice!
They beat her and
murdered her, and I want them to suffer for it. I want
justice!”

The old woman
placed her hands on his cheeks, shaking her head in
disappointment.

“There is no
justice to be found in this world, child. If there ever was, you
wouldn’t be walking these streets a free man. That Arab friend of
yours would be dead long ago if there was any justice to go around
in this world. That cruel, awful man you hanged? If God had any
justice to give, that man would never have killed my son and gotten
away with it. My son. . .my strong, handsome son Curtis.”

The name echoed
in Tyler’s mind, awakening memories that had remained dormant for
years and years. He knew exactly whom this woman was talking about.
It was the real name of a gang leader and known to but only a close
few. Everyone else knew him only by his infamous
nickname—
Attila.

“Curtis was
your
son?
I remember him well. I was locked away when the
Fourteens went to war against the Perps. I’m sorry for your loss.
For what it’s worth, I had a lot of respect for him. I never
thought of him as an enemy.”

Tears rolled
down her cheeks as she heard him speak of her son. It had been so
long since she heard someone else mention his name, be it the one
she gave him at birth or the one that they called him in the
streets. To hear another voice utter his name brought her as much
joy as it did sadness.

“Don’t be sorry
for me, child. Curtis chose the wrong side of life. No one forced
him to join the Perps. No one forced him to lead them. No one
forced him to go to war with those cruel, evil men. It was his
choices to live on the wrong side that got him killed. One day,
they tied him to the back of a truck and dragged him all the way
down Kibera Boulevard to send a message to all the coloured folk in
town. The only body parts left tied up to that truck were his legs.
I was left to bury only what I could pick up from the streets. My
son, my only son, dragged around town like an animal. Like a
slave. . .
”

The frail old
woman cried and extended her arms, begging to be held. Tyler held
her reluctantly and let her rest her head on his shoulder. Her sobs
were bitter and resentful.

“Damn you boys
and your gangs! He was my only son. My little boy! Now he’s gone
and I’m all alone in this world. He was all I ever had. . .I have
nothing left to live for. Do you see the pain in my heart, child?
Why do you boys choose to become monsters instead of men? Don’t you
see what it does to your mothers?”

Tyler let go of
the old woman and took a step back. “My mother abandoned me when I
was a boy. I’ll never know what happened to her.”

“Oh my child,
that is so sad. A motherless child is a lost child. It’s so easy to
take the wrong path when you’re already lost. If there was any
justice, she’d beg for your forgiveness. . .and I pray that if that
day ever comes, you give it to her.”

Tyler turned
around. He could still see Gloria’s memorial in the distance.

“I don’t know.
. .but there is no justice in this world, right? You said so
yourself. If I can’t get justice for what happened to Gloria, then
what else can I do?”

The old woman
wiped her tears with a handkerchief and held him by the hand once
more. Her steely gaze had become a far more wistful one. Her voice
had weakened to a volume only marginally higher than a whisper.
Tyler bent down to hear her better.

“You can find
peace,
or you can find
vengeance
. You can’t have
both; each destroys the other. Choose peace—to forgive your enemies
and not seek retribution—and your heart will heal with time. . .but
the death of the woman you loved will go unavenged. Choose
vengeance, and the murderer will be punished for his sins. . .but
your heart will become hard and cold as stone, and you will never
feel love again. You will have to make a choice. It’s too late for
you to find redemption, but it’s not too late to make something
right in this world. Heal your heart, or punish the wicked.
Peace or vengeance.
You will have to make your choice.
Choose wisely, child.”