Hawk
The dirt circles around our bikes as we park next to the bar. “You know how this shit is going down, right?” I ask Cruise after I pull my helmet off.
He shakes his long blond faux hawk as soon as his helmet is off his head. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Hawk. I know what the fuck to do.”
I haul my leg over my bike at the same time as him. “That’s not what I fucking mean. I’m taking the lead on this one.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” he tells me as he locks his helmet to the bike.
I grab his arm. “This isn’t up for discussion. I take that fucker out.”
He pulls from my grip and takes a step towards me. “Do you know what’s it been like all these years living with that fucking picture in my mind. The guilt? Would you like me to describe it for you?” His blue eyes bore into mine. “The way her wails and shrieks of pain ring in my ears? How she fought time after time only to be beaten down until she didn’t have a fight left? I’m not sure what Tessa has told you, but I’ve seen it. So whatever it is that your little brain is picturing right now, make it twenty times worse. You have no idea how lucky she is to be alive. Not after what I saw. No one should have survived that.” He takes a step back and heads towards the bar.
“This isn’t your fight!”
He looks over his shoulder. “Does it matter?”
* * *
We both take a seat at the bar. The bartender looks at us both, his gaze landing on the patches of our cuts. He leans over and says, “I’m Edwardo, what can I get for ya?”
“I think you know,” I tell him.
His eyes scan the area before he leans on the bar. “Rumor has it that he’s held up in a little house at the end of town.” He slides a piece of paper towards me, then stands up and turns his back. “I’ll get you both those beers,” he says over his shoulder as he pulls the tap down, filling the frosted glass.
To make it less conspicuous, Cruise and I decide to make the journey to the address on the paper on foot. There’s no reason to draw attention to ourselves by riding our bikes. Plus, we don’t want the sound of our engines tipping him off. Before we leave the bar, we push our bikes around back in a shed. I grab the pack and container I have mounted to the side, and we make the trip a few streets over.
It’s close to eleven at night. Most of the lights are out in the houses as we pass them. The fewer people that are up, the less likely they’ll be able to call the cops. When we reach the address that’s written on the paper, the house is dark, not even a porch light.
“Do you think this is right?” Cruise asks in hushed tones.
“Yeah. I don’t think Jr. would lead us down the wrong path.”
I move from off the sidewalk, towards the back of the house. None of the homes have fences in this neighborhood, so it makes it easier. When we reach the back door, I take the gun from my belt before grabbing for the slider.
“Hey.” Cruise grips my hand. “Let me go first.” Before I open my mouth to tell him where he can go, he continues, “I’m saying if he’s waiting for us, I’m better off taking a bullet or whatever else he’s got planned. You’ve got people counting on you.”
He’s right, so I step aside and let him take the lead. With a slight pull of the glass door, it opens. “This is too fucking easy, man,” Cruise says. “Something doesn’t feel right about this. I hope we aren’t walking into a trap.”
Once we both step through the door, we stop and listen. The house is silent except for a muffled sound coming from down the hall. I signal for us to keep going. He shakes his head in protest, but as soon as I’m headed down the hall, I can feel him at my back. The door is open in the first room we come to. Taking a step inside, I see that it’s empty. Cruise walks ahead and goes into the next room. He signals that it’s empty. The muffled sound is louder in the last place. I draw my gun out and push the door open.
Tre’s eyes widen when he sees my gun. He tries to fight against the gag in his mouth, screaming behind the gathered fabric. He begins to buck against the headboard where his arms are tied. He’s shackled to either end in a spread-eagle position.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Cruise drops the hand he’s holding the gun to his side.
Lowering my gun but still keeping it trained on him, I take a step towards the bastard. There’s a piece of paper pinned to his chest. The words, ‘You’re Welcome’ are printed in bold print. Louie not only turns one of his guys over to me, but he also put a fucking bow on him like a neatly wrapped present.
“Turn the bathroom light on so we can get some light in here.” Tre’s eyes frantically follow Cruise’s movement. I bend down slightly. “Do you know why we’re here?”
Tre shakes his head as he pulls at his restraints. When the light comes on, I see what condition he’s in. Dried blood is streaked down his forearms. The whites of his socks are stained red where the metal has cut into the skin, and he’s wearing tan khakis which have a darkened crotch. The air smells slightly of urine.
“How long do you think he’s been like this?” Cruise comes up next to me. “He’s fucking pissed himself.”
“No idea, but that’s not my problem.” I turn around and dump the pack on the dresser. I start pulling everything out. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but whatever it is, there’s only one outcome, and that’s this fucker’s death.
“Holy shit, you’ve got some fucked up shit in there.” Cruise lifts one of Lick’s old torturing tools. It’s a large knife they used to use to amputate legs in the 1600’s.
“Not mine. They’re Lick’s.”
“His fucked-up-ness knows no bounds.” He puts the knife back on the dresser. I can hear his boots walking around the room as I pull the last tool from the bag. “Do you wanna ask him questions or just get straight to the point?”
I grab the flashlight and click the button. Tre clenches his eyes close when I shine it in his face. Once it’s on his chest, he opens them, and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. The same blue eyes of a little boy I’ve grown to love are staring back at me.
“Hey, you all right?”
I blink my eyes and shake my head. He fucking raped her. That’s all I care about. “Yeah, I’m good.”
I turn and place the flashlight on the dresser, pointing it in the room, giving us some more light. I grab a scalpel from the pile of tools. The entire drive here I had been planning out what kind of things I was going to do once I got my hands on him, but now, now I just what this shit over so I can get back to Tessa and Sam.
“This is what I think we should do.” I turn back around and make my way towards Tre. “I think we need to use the eye for an eye theory.” I keep my eyes trained on Cruise’s face as he tries to decipher what I’m saying, before he understands, I jab the knife straight down into the motherfucker’s dick. Tre’s muffled screams can be heard as his body jerks with the pain, making my hand go deeper. I pull up and make another jab into his flesh.
“Holy fuck!” Cruise’s eyes widen. I force my hand to stay in one place, making Tre cut himself with his jerking motions. I’m not sure if I’m cutting his dick clean off his body, and there’s no fucking way I’m taking his pants down to make sure I’m doing it right.
I look down and see my hand covered in warm, slippery blood. The crimson stain is growing through the fabric of his pants. Turning my head, I peer at the fucker who took so much from Tessa. His eyes are feral, snot is shooting from his nose as he tries to breathe through the pain. “Finish him,” I tell Cruise, letting him complete the list to rid himself of his guilty conscience.
I let go of the knife, leave the bedroom and make my way outside. The container is right where I left it. I pour its contents, splashing it against the wood of the house, I take a few steps back off the porch and admire my work. When I hear feet approaching from behind the house, I look over and see Cruise.
“You do the honors?”
“My pleasure.”