Six Bad Things Part 42

--Yeah.

I touch her shoulder with my left hand. She brushes it off and starts the car and turns on the headlights and pulls away from the curb. And just like early yesterday morning, T and Sandy are driving away, leaving me alone. I watch until they turn the corner, and then go upstairs.

I GAVE Sandy some of the Percs to feed to T for his pain. I sit on Tim's couch and spread the ten Percs I kept on the coffee table, right next to the Anaconda and Danny's 9 mm.

IT'S GOING to be easy.

Doing this is going to be so easy.

DYLAN WILL come here to this address. He'll come himself because he won't trust anyone else to get his money. He may bring muscle, but he'll come. I don't care about muscle. I just need Dylan here.

At first I wanted him here so I could threaten him and force him to make a call, make him tell his men to back off. And then I could kill him. But that's not the smart thing to do. I've finally figured out the smart thing. The smart thing is for me to die.

But I need him here for it to work. I need him to see my corpse with his own eyes. He'll get the message. It's over. The money is lost and it's over. He'll call in his dogs and leave Mom and Dad alone. Killing people costs a lot of money and it involves risk. Dylan is an a.s.shole, but he's also a businessman. After all, who's gonna drop a nuclear bomb on their enemy when the enemy is already dead?

This is the smart thing. I've thought about it, and I'm sure.

I could use a gun, but I don't have the guts. Funny that. So I swallow the Percs one by one, was.h.i.+ng them down with Tim's Tullamore Dew.

It's nice, not having to worry anymore. Not having to worry about staying in control, about keeping it all together, about what to do next. I can just take these pills and they'll do all the worrying for me. I love you Mom and Dad. But I don't want to hurt people anymore.

--HOLA?.

--Pedro, it's me.

Silence.

--Pedro?

--Si?

--Have you seen the news, do you know?

--Si. I know.

--I should have told you.

Silence.

--How's Leo?

--He will be OK.

--The police?

--We will be OK.

--OK.

Silence.

--How's Bud? Is he?

--The cat is fine. The hijos love the cat.

--Good.

I hear a voice in the background, Ofelia. Pedro covers the mouthpiece and says something to her and then comes back on.

--I must go.

--Yeah, I'm sorry.

--No problema.

--Good-bye, Pedro.

--Via con Dios. Henry.

I hang up. My hand goes to my neck, but I've lost the holy medal he gave me. Where? Doesn't matter. Not likely that any saints are going to be looking out for me these days.

I probably shouldn't have made that call. But it was the closest I could get to calling home. I look at the clock. How long since I took the pills? How much longer will it take? My eyes drift shut. I open them. Not long.

I flick on the TV to pa.s.s the time. I flip past CNN and ESPN. Cartoon Network is doing a twenty-four-hour marathon of Christmas shows. I settle in to watch.

I black out.

I'M SITTING on Tim's couch. The TV is on. It's a cartoon. A Charlie Brown Christmas. It's the part where Linus stands on the stage and the spotlight turns on and he explains the meaning of Christmas. My favorite part.

--Hank.

I turn my head. Tim is sitting next to me on the edge of the couch.

--Hey, Timmy.

--Thank G.o.d, man. I wasn't sure you would ever wake up.

I point at the TV.

--Let's watch this.

--OK.

We watch Linus finish his speech and then a commercial comes on. I turn back to Tim.

--Where ya been, Timmy?

--New York.

--No kidding. How's the old neighborhood?

He shrugs.

--The same. You know.

--Yeah.

He reaches out a hand to touch me, but doesn't.

--Hank, you look pretty messed up.

--Well, yeah.

--Maybe we should do something.

--Sure.

--And I think I should get you out of here.

--Sure.

He stands up. I hold up my finger.

--Hang on just a sec, I got something for you.

I reach out my burned right hand and pick up the Anaconda. He takes a step back.

--Hank.

The revolver feels like it's on fire. I point it at his stomach.

--Don't worry, Timmy. This is gonna hurt me a lot more than it's gonna hurt you.

And it does hurt. The huge weapon bucks in my hand and the pain flares up my arm. But it probably hurts him more.

A LOUD noise wakes me up.

I'm sitting on Tim's couch. The TV is on. It's a cartoon. A Charlie Brown Christmas. It's the part where Charlie tries to decorate his pitiful tree and it collapses and he thinks he's killed it, but then his friends come and make it beautiful. It's the end.

--Hank.

I look at the floor. Tim is sprawled there, a huge hole in his stomach, his hands pressed over it, trying to keep the blood inside, but it's spilling everywhere. Something is hurting my hand. I look. I'm holding Wade's Anaconda. I drop it.

--Timmy?

--Oh s.h.i.+t. Oh s.h.i.+t, Hank.

Nonononono.

I slide to the floor.

--Timmy.

--What? Hank? What?

--Oh. Oh. OK, we can. I can.

--Hank. I did.

--What?

--I did what you told me. I did.

--It's OK, man, just be.

--I went. OhG.o.dohG.o.dohG.o.d. This guy from, from New York was, I heard this guy was coming. A Russian. Hank, there's a Russian.

--I know. Shhhh. I know.

--And I did what you said. And I. You told me if anyone came to. You told me.

--I did. I know. It's OK.

I'm pressing my hands into the wound, but there's too much of it to cover.

--You told me to get out if anyone came, and I did, I took the money and I.

--Of course you did, you're a good friend, Timmy, I knew you'd.

--And my beeper. Ohs.h.i.+t. I'm such a idiot. You were gonna call my beeper. But.

--It's OK.

--No.

--OK.

--I'm a idiot and I forgot the, I forgot my beeper.

Tears are pouring out of his eyes, his teeth and tongue and lips are sheened with blood.

--And the news, I saw it, I saw they said you were here in Vegas and.

He breathes a couple times.

--It's starting not to hurt as much, Hank.

--Good, that's good.