Monday, November 25, 2013

Three, Two, One

Micky told me once that whenever he was about to perform an execution he took three deep breaths. Said it calmed him down, levelled him out. Micky’s an old guy now and he doesn’t do much killin these days, but he’s got all this advice that you only get though forty-plus years in the game, and he loves to talk. A lot of the guys brush him off, but I always listen.

And it’s that advice, three deep breaths, I keep hearin as me and Danny drive out to the quarry. The guys’ve decided that it’s time for me to pop my cherry. Danny is here to make sure I do things right. We drag the squealer from the trunk, dump him on his knees, and Danny goes back and leans against the car, arms folded.

The squealer is in his underwear. It’s stained yellow and he stinks of piss. There’s blood on his chest from the beatin he’s taken, and there’s a gag in his mouth. I’m glad for the gag, cos all I can hear comin from him is mumbles. Reckon he’s probably beggin for his life, and I don’t need to hear that. I got enough on my mind.

I move til I’m standin behind him so I don’t have to see his eyes. It’s late and it’s dark, and all three of us have got our breath mistin in front of our faces and I’m starin at the back of the squealer’s head, thinkin how I’m about to put a bullet through it, how real soon this simperin son of a bitch is gonna be a coolin lump of meat, and all Danny can do is tell me about the temperature.

“Fuck me, man, it’s fuckin freezin,” he’s sayin, but I’m just ignorin him. “Feels like my fuckin balls are gonna drop off.”

I take out my gun and I point it. The barrel’s about a foot away from the guy’s skull, and I start takin the breaths.

Three.

Two.

“What’s the fuckin hold up here?” Danny is an impatient motherfucker.

“Let me do my thing, huh?”

So I turn back, and I can see now that the guy is tremblin all over. His shoulders are really shakin, and it ain’t with the cold. There’s noise comin from him. It’s muffled but I think it’s sobs. I take my breaths.

Three.

Two.

“The fuck you waitin for? Christmas? Cap this snitchin piece’a shit and let’s get the fuck outta here!”

Start over.

Three.

Two.

I hear Danny push off from the car. He’s sighin and grumblin. Gravel crunches and he’s right behind me. He’s pointin a gun at the back of my head. I can feel the barrel pressin into my skull.

“You got three fuckin seconds to get this thing done, else I’m cappin the both of ya.”

I try breathin faster. Doesn’t help. I ain’t calm. Feels like I’m gonna panic. Danny starts to count. He counts faster than I inhale.

“Three. Two. –”

I squeeze the trigger before he can squeeze his. The guy on his knees goes flat on his face. He ain’t tremblin no more.

The barrel leaves my head. “See? That weren’t so hard. Jesus H Christ, let’s go.” He crunches off back to the car.

I stare at the body for a while. There’s steam beginnin to rise from it, especially round the hole I just made. I can’t feel the cold. I just keep starin through the mist comin outta my mouth. Danny beeps the horn. He’s shoutin shit, but I don’t listen.

I take my breaths.

Three.

Two.

One.

Three.

Two.

One.

Three.

Two.

One.

~FIN~