The Hitman: Dirty Rotters (23 page)

I turned and noticed Sally’s bedroom
door moving further away. I was in the hallway then, moving fast,
being pulled by Palo. Her wondrous eyes were wide and filled with
something unpleasant. She was more than worried; she was terrified
and panicked. Her full lips were parting rapidly, frantically
talking, but I heard nothing. I was slipping further into a
protective state of mind. I was shutting everything out.

Suddenly I stopped moving.

I saw Palo’s arms fly away from
me.

I turned my head in their fleeting
direction. I saw Jeff Dimeglio. He had the eyes of a killer and the
smile of a bloodthirsty wolf. His hands were swinging something
black towards my head. I shut my eyes. I felt a sharp sting race
from my head straight down to my feet, then a flood of dizziness
sent me down. I fought it for a moment. But I was too tired. Too
weak. I let go completely then. I collapsed into the blackness
swallowing me.

I felt heavy and dizzy. My eyes opened
but wouldn’t stay so. I saw glimpses of Sally’s ceiling. I was
moving slowly. A few inches at a time. My arms were up high. I made
out someone’s hands around my wrists, a firm grasp. I was being
dragged through the kitchen. I tried to scream. I tried hard to
yell for Palo. Then I felt the stickiness of the tape against my
lips.

I yanked my arms down, but the grip
holding them was like iron. I was helpless. I was an idiot. I never
looked through Sally’s house. I should have checked everything out
the moment I returned. I wondered where Palo was.

“
Paybacks are a real
bitch.” The deep voice rang through my head like a massive bell in
a tower causing waves of pain to flood through me. I stopped and my
arms fell hard to the floor. Jeff Dimeglio stepped over me, and
looked down. “All I wanted was the money. I warned you,
cowboy.”

His right shoe swung back, then fast
and hard towards my head.

A lot of things can go through your
head in a split second.

The only thing I was thinking then was
how much I hated the sound of running water.

Chapter 18

Dreams can be phenomenal.

People spend money trying to decipher
the meaning of their dreams. They talk to psychics and all sorts of
doctors with impressive degrees in impressive fields in hopes of
finding the meaning of their dreams. Maybe they’re looking for
direction in their lives, as if their dreams and their reality
could be intertwined somehow. Back in Old Testament times, some
people’s dreams were direct messages from God. Not so much anymore.
Not without a straightjacket and a group of mental therapists
helping you to see your misguidance, anyway.

Other people believe that dreams are
just dreams.

After the kick to my head knocked me
out, I opened my eyes and saw light. The sky overhead was a
brilliant, vibrant blue with a blinding white light high above. I
was lying on my back in the middle of Little B’s backyard.
Everything was exactly like I had remembered, and yet so different.
It was full of life. The grass was plush and green and soft.
Songbirds sang from the surrounding trees and a gentle breeze
wrapped me in comforting warmth. The anger I carried with me was
gone. I felt at peace.

“
You’re a bit early,” a
comforting voice said.

I sat upright and looked around.
Little B was on her hands and knees digging in the most wondrous
flowerbed I ever saw. She looked younger. She looked refreshed and
full of energy. She smiled at me and set her tools down and then
walked over to me. She moved like a twenty year old.

“
Grandma?”

“
I know. It’s a bit much to
get used to all at once. But you do.” She sat down beside me. “I’m
worried about you.”

It was surreal. I knew then that I was
dreaming, but nothing seemed like a dream. “What
happened?”

“
Got your butt kicked,
that’s what.”

I remembered the kick. I felt my head
for cracks or lumps or blood and found none. I was fine. My
confusion turned into a smile.

“
Well, the choice is
yours.”

“
What choice?”

“
Same one I had.” She
smiled greatly. “I want to think that I made the right choice. I
guess time will tell.”

She gave me a look that I didn’t
understand just then. I was so happy to see her that I didn’t give
much heed to what she was trying to tell me. I looked around at all
the beauty as if seeing if for the first time.

“
Time’s a ticking,” she
said.

I looked back to her. Her smile was
gone. “What do I do?”

“
It’s your choice, Michael.
You can stay if you’d like, but if you decide to go back, it’s
going to feel that much worse.” We stared at each other for a
moment. She reached over and patted my shoulder. “You want to save
the girl. Well, you could go back and try, or you could just let
the pieces fall where they may. Rid yourself of all that anger
you’re carrying. Let God handle it.”

“
I can’t leave
her.”

“
You just did.”

“
I can’t lose her. I can’t
lose Palo, like I lost Pamela.”

“
You’re losing yourself,
Michael. Have you forgotten everything I’ve taught you?” She gave
me a firm look. “Let it go. Save yourself.”

“
No, I can’t. She needs me
and I need to go back.”

“
You’ll end up like one of
them. Revenge is such an ugly direction, Michael. It’s no way to
live. It leads you down.” She paused a moment, then gave an
understanding nod. “Go and be what you are going to be, Michael.
Remember that God is always with you. Always listening. Always
watching.”

I stood up. “I miss you,
grandma.”

She rose easily. “Oh, we’ll see each
other again, Michael. I have a feeling that you’ll be back soon
enough.”

I nodded to her. I felt as if I was
making the right choice. She smiled and hugged me tight. “It’s
going to get dark now.”

I let her go. “If I stay, will they
kill her?”

Little B said nothing. She looked at
me as if I already knew the answer. I took a deep breath. “Will
they kill me?”

“
Don’t trouble yourself
with that just now, Michael. Trust in God. It’s the only
way.”

Little B walked back to her garden
with a smile. I watched her kneel down and grab her small digging
tool. I watched her raise it up, then strike it into the brown soil
with a loud thundering crunch.

My eyes flashed open with a start. I
was bathed in pain immediately, throbbing from my head down into
the tips of my toes. My eyes stung with sweat and blood. My hands
were taped together at the wrists and my legs at the ankles. I was
on my back staring up at Sally’s ceiling. I smelled bacon and eggs
right away. It was amazing. I could hear the grease sizzle in the
pan. I was starving.

I turned my head to the right. I could
make out Palo lying in the same fashion just a few feet away. We
were both between the fireplace and the couch. She was motionless,
facing the other direction.

“
You’re out of ketchup.”
Jeff Dimeglio’s voice was deep and gruff.

I turned my head back up in time to
see him hovering over me, raising back his right arm, making a hard
fist. His eyes shinned and his smile gleamed.

His fingers were marked in Old English
letters, though I couldn’t read the tattoos. He was wearing the
black sweatshirt with the hood down and I saw that he had long
hair. His skin was deeply tan, worse than my own.

“
How can you have so much
meat with no ketchup?”

His fist raced towards my head. I
closed my eyes.

I opened my eyes to the sound of an
aluminum digging tool scraping into the dirt beside me. It was loud
and powerful.

I sprang upright, again feeling
strangely free. Little B was on her knees in the garden staring
surprisingly at me. “So soon?”

I shrugged. “Wasn’t by
choice.”

Little B’s warm look turned hard. “I
told you what the difference between you and them was. You have a
choice. Listen to your conscious while you still have one. Wise and
toughen up or they will kill you.”

“
I won’t give them a
chance.”

“
You have given them so
many chances already! It’s a miracle you made it this far. And
you’re all out of second chances, so next time is it.”

“
Thanks for the
advice.”

“
Remember the love that you
found and hold on to it tighter than anything else you ever did.”
Little B said firmly. “Love is strong.”

I nodded. I waved bye. She did nothing
but stare at me hard. I shut my eyes.

My vision slowly came back. The room
was bright. The air still smelled of breakfast. I was still taped
up and lying on my back. The pain was nearly overpowering. I could
taste blood in my mouth and could barely see out of my left eye. I
turned my head to look for Palo. She was gone.

The door shut and a floorboard
creaked. I heard Jeff Dimeglio huffing and puffing. He had been
working hard at something. A vision of him digging a hole filled my
head. His breathing closed in on me. I decided to close my eyes.
The last thing I needed was to have my face look like pummeled
hamburger. I wasn’t that good looking to start with.

Two strong hands grabbed my ankles
tight and yanked my legs into the air. Instinctively, I opened my
eyes. I found Jeff’s immediately. My mistake. He let go of my legs
and moved over-top of me again. He wasn’t happy.

“
You should’a just gave me
my money. Stupid cop.”

I supposed it wouldn’t do any good to
argue that I wasn’t a cop. He bent down close to me, extending his
arms towards my face. I closed my eyes again, knowing what was
coming. I felt his thick fingers grab ahold of my scalp and raise
my head up off the polished tongue-and-groove oak flooring. I was
almost upright to a sitting position when the maniac threw my head
back down with a driving force into the floor.

Dreams can bring you the worst pain
imaginable.

I was in the woods, running
hand-in-hand with Pamela, dodging fallen trees and swiping branches
out of the way, racing towards the light of the moon. Behind us it
came, crashing and rumbling, loud and undeniable. Sweat coated my
face, dripping into my eyes, stinging them terribly. The flight
through the woods had been long and tiresome. There seemed to be no
end. And the bear was closing in on us more-so with each passing
second. We were winded and breathing ragged, sore and beaten,
exhausted to the point of collapsing.

I looked back. Massive cedars, elms,
and oaks were flattened by the black nightmare sweeping towards us
like an avalanche. We couldn’t move fast enough. It was gaining
ground. It would tear us to shreds in moments. I could see its
white teeth shining in the moonlight. Its jaws snapping viciously
at the back of our necks.

I turned forward. Nothing but trees
and the full moon.

Pamela began screaming. She was crying
hard, begging me to do something, to do anything to save her. But
there was nowhere to go. As I risked a second look back, I saw the
bear barreling at us, fast and powerful. Death was
inevitable.

I squeezed her hand tight, stopped
running, and pulled her into my arms. I drew her in close to
protect her as I could. I looked down to tell her one last time
that I had always loved her. When she looked up to me, I saw that
it wasn’t Pamela I was holding. It was Palo.

“
You were supposed to save
me!” she cried.

The presence of the bear fell down
over us.

The loud thud woke me.

Because of my surroundings, I knew the
noise had been a car door slamming shut. I was sweating and
trembling. My left eye was stinging from blood running into it from
the cut on my forehead. I was cramped up, still taped helplessly.
It was chilly. The sun wasn’t above the treetops yet. It must have
been around 7:00 a.m. I had no idea what had happened to Palo or
Sally.

Was Sally even alive? Was
Palo just as helpless waiting for me to save her? Did the killer
Jeff Dimeglio have plans on driving this car off a
cliff?

A thousand thoughts raced through my
head, and I had answers to none of them. I couldn’t move. I
couldn’t talk. I watched helplessly as Jeff Dimeglio walked around
to the back of the car, looked down at me, then slammed the trunk
closed, locking with it any hopes of me escaping.

I was in the dark. Cramped and sore.
Thirsty and weak. I hurt all over, mentally and physically. I could
handle that. What was killing me was not knowing where Palo and
Sally Rhode were. With having no way of altering my situation, I
decided to sleep, to rest and hopefully gain some strength. I shut
my eyes against the intense throbbing in my head and allowed myself
to drift.

Jeff abruptly put an end to
that.

I heard and felt the car start up. A
second later we were moving. Then the radio came on. Rock music,
hard beats and crashing cymbals. Then the volume turned way up. I
opened my eyes. There would be no sleep, not with the speakers
directly above my head, cranking out Metallica. I knew a story
where prisoners of war were locked into small areas where hard rock
was played, hoping to break their spirits so that they would
cooperate and talk and give away secrets or whatever. I thought
that was such ignorance. Metallica was my favorite band. The only
way to listen to it was loud. As loud as it could get.