Never Far Gone, page 26
“I- I need to talk to your dad, kiddo…” I say as I bring my injured hand up to his shoulder. He retaliates as if I hadn’t taken the gun away from his father’s head and shoves my hand off, which causes me pain that I don’t visibly acknowledge, given the circumstances.
“No, no, you’re going to kill him!” Vito shouts as he looks up at me. His face is red, and his cheeks are soaked with tears.
“No, I just want to talk with him, that’s all. No one deserves to die, right?” I ask as I recall what he told me at the party. With that, he looks at me. The hesitation on his face shows he’s battling with the idea of whether to trust me, while his father averts his gaze from me and places his forehead on the ground.
“Okay…” Vito says before hugging his father as he’s brought to his knees. After the embrace, Vito pulls back and walks over to check on Derrick, who is being lifted onto the makeshift stretcher we brought Jorge when he arrived from Yonkers.
“Get him up,” I command as I look down at my hand to assess the damage. A few of the Thrivers around me hoist him to his feet and restrain his hands behind his back using their handcuffs. The man stares at me with concern as the restraints let out an audible noise when tightened. I can’t say the same for the man’s surviving companion, as he’s fidgeting around verbally threatening anyone who comes near him.
“What’s the next move, boss?” one of the armed Thrivers asks as he lowers his shotgun once the men are bound.
“Yeah, boss. What are we going to do with these lovely gentlemen here-“ Graham says sarcastically. He extends his finger to touch the Colonist before me, and I immediately shove him backward.
“Enough, Graham!” I shout out as he nearly stumbles. Seemingly embarrassed by the sudden power play, Graham takes a step forward to get in my face. I stand my ground while looking him directly in the eyes. “You want to be aggressive? Then you’re going to go find your brother, head upstairs, and have a little chat with our friend over there,” I proclaim to Graham as I point to the frantic Raveler a few feet away. “These are your fucking people, to begin with,” I shout as I inch closer to Graham’s face. After a second or two of silence, he chuckles before slowly backing away.
“And what about this one?” Graham asks as he points to Vito’s father.
“I’ll deal with it,” I say as I turn my attention to the man, who is visibly uncomfortable in his restraints and constantly looking at his son. I hear Graham scoff at the idea.
“Well, if it’s anything like how you tortured me…” Graham jokes. I don’t pay him any mind and, instead, look at the Thriver who put on the man’s restraints.
“Bring him to the maintenance room on the fourth floor. I’ll deal with him from there,” I command as the man is ushered forward. He turns to look at me as he gets within whispering distance and leans toward me as best he can.
“Thank you…” the man says as he disappears from view and gradually fades into my peripherals. I glance into the back of the Tacoma and see a lockbox tipped to the side with various hand tools protruding onto the floor of the truck bed.
Don’t thank me yet.
The maintenance room on the fourth floor is essentially a windowless closet, maybe slightly bigger than an average walk-in closet found in most high-end condos, and I can’t help but admire the privacy it offers. There’s a single deadbolt on the exterior of the door, which can be locked for extra security, so it’s perfect for the conversation I’m about to have with the Raveler before me. He’s standing with his hands above his head, nearly tippy-toeing, as a long metallic chain hanging from the pipes above our heads is restraining his wrists together.
“Before anything else happens today, I wanted to start with an easy one…” I say as I begin slowly pacing around the dangling man. Even the most inaudible statements are perceivable, with the room being as small as it is. “What’s your name?” I ask.
“Why does that matter?” the man retaliates. I walk in front of the man and use both hands to forcefully grab his face and address him directly; this causes him to stop moving as he gazes at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid eye contact with me. The recent flashbacks of Vito embracing this man and calling him “dad” keep coming to mind, and my aggravation starts to build as I realize something: this just became personal.
“Because if you are who I think you are, then I have no quarrel with you…” I say as I fling myself away from the man. “But I need to know which side you’re on. I need to know that you’re a straight shooter,” I hastily disclose.
“Sergio…” the man says before looking up at the ceiling and letting out a deep sigh.
“Alright, Sergio,” I say while approaching the various hand tools I had lying neatly on one of the metal wagons we used to bring the cake to the party a while back. “You, my good sir, are going to tell me every-fucking-thing. And you can start by telling me why you, this seemingly healthy individual, left a beautiful, defenseless woman and an innocent child to fend for themselves for nearly a year…” I let out a growl. He looks back down at me.
“Why do you even care-” Sergio says before stopping abruptly as I grab a pair of wire strippers and insert his bare ring finger into the empty gap of the tool. After looking him in his eyes, which are starting to water, I slowly begin applying pressure to the tool, causing the metal to sink ever-so-slowly into his bare skin.
“That girl is the only one who kept me alive on the inside. That kid gave me hope for a brighter future. And then, there’s you,” I mutter as Sergio begins breathing heavily. “Did you even want to look for them…?” I ask in a whisper.
“You have no idea…” Sergio mumbles as he ignores the pain in his finger.
“Speak. Up.”My face inches closer to his as my tone becomes deeper.
“I called endlessly. I- I stopped by our apartment. I did everything I could to-“ Sergio says before being interrupted again.
“It wasn’t enough. If it were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, now would we?” I ask as I press down on both ends of the tool with slightly more pressure. Sergio lets out a continuous groan before I release the pressure and remove the tool altogether, placing it back on the metal cart. It’s difficult, but I put my feelings aside after a brief pause and proceed with my initial questions. “As much as I’d like to continue this heart-to-heart between you and me, there are other more pressing matters at hand…” I say while stopping directly in front of Sergio. “Tell me about Sandman,” I instruct.
“W- who?” he says with a slight deviation in his tone. Whether intentional or not, I can’t tell; what is clear is that I am beginning to lose my patience.
“Colonist, huh? You may as well be a fucking owl,” I say sarcastically as my now-bandaged hand wraps about the handle of my blade. As the knife, which I was able to recover from a Raveler who had taken it off me when I first arrived at the Colony, is slowly retracted from its sheathe, the look of worry seems to be steadily increasing on Sergio’s face. “Make me ask you again. I dare you,” I warn as I begin circling him again.
“Listen, I’ve never heard of anybody named Sandman,” Sergio proclaims as his bonded hands clasp together above his head. “I swear to the Lord Himself,” he says as I slam the blade onto the metal cart before him. The sudden thud of metal smacking against metal, amplified by the room’s tight space, makes him jolt out of fear. I stare into his eyes to assess if he is lying to me. I can’t afford to be wrong again, yet my instincts tell me he’s too scared to conceal that information from me.
“Then tell me about Damien,” I instruct as I lean against the thick wooden door leading to the hallway. I cross my arms and exhale as he begins to speak.
“That sadistic motherfucker? What about him?” Sergio asks as his gaze shoots back up to the ceiling.
“He took something from me. From all of us…” I say as I press off the door and approach our uninvited guest of the hour. “Something we can’t bring back, but we can take something from him. We can take everything from him,” I declare. Sergio looks at me with a mix of concern and what I can only assume is relief.
“He-“ Sergio says before stopping himself. I can tell he doesn’t trust me, yet his expression tells me he knows his options are very limited as of twenty minutes ago. “I know he was an Assistant District Attorney somewhere up North. I know that he used his charm as an ADA to get people to do great things, but he used that same charisma to convince others to do evil shit, too…” Sergio recalls.
“What sort of evil shit?” I ask with heightened curiosity.
“They-“ Sergio says as he starts to break down. “They dismember people because of him… used what was left after a massacre to scare others away. He forces people to shoot, stab, bludgeon, or rape their own families… then kills them all for fun afterward. Does that sound like a place for my family? I mean, what the fuck!” Sergio shouts out. His sense of remorse shows me he’s serious.
Jesus Christ…
“Sergio, you need to tell me where these people are… You participated and witnessed a lot of wrongs, yet this is your opportunity to make it right,” I say as I close the distance between his body and mine. “Don’t give them up for me. Give them up for your son. Let me handle the darkness so you can embrace the light,” I say in a low and empathetic manner.
His eyes are red and watery, and he looks as though he is fighting a dilemma in his mind, but I can tell he’s not a bad person. I know better than most what it’s like to be on the other side of the moral compass. Although it’s sometimes the kind of person I have to be, it’s not the type of person I want to be. Vito helped me realize that.
“I’ll tell you everything you wanna know…” Sergio says as he smiles at me. I give him a nod of appreciation and turn around while rubbing the now bandaged stumps where my fingers once stood. Sergio calls out to me before I get too lost in my own thoughts.
“I meant what I said outside. Thank you for looking out for my babies,” Sergio says as his voice begins to crack again. I stand there for a few seconds before knocking on the door so the deadbolt can be released from the outside.
“You’re welcome,” I say as Abdul opens the door from the other side; the light from the hallway seeps into the room as I step out to retrieve the map found in the Tacoma.
They’re my family, too.
I can’t help but feel pity for Sergio, even as I escort him out of the Lobby through the main entrance of the Consulate and into the front courtyard. Per my instructions to the group of six preparing to oversee a transaction with the Van Courtland Traders, they are to, instead, accompany Sergio to where he claimed the Colony was located: under heavily armed guard. The group of Thrivers has also been instructed to radio in every twenty minutes on their progression back upstate.
The truck they’re taking is already parked outside the main gates, and the group of six is checking their gear before their departure. I stop Sergio in front of the double doors and turn him around to tighten his handcuffs.
“If you’re right, you’ll be one of us when you get back…” I say in a low tone. Without turning to face me, Sergio gives me a nod to show he comprehended what I said. As we start walking down the small group of steps leading towards the main gate, one of the double doors behind Sergio and I are thrown open. I turn my head towards the commotion to see Renata storming out of the building and her son following suit with a look of regret; she’s fuming, and I can nearly feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she attempts to rush toward us.
“You had him here this whole time?!” Renata shouts over the sound of various footsteps approaching her. “Get the fuck off of me!” she shouts as a few Thrivers attempt to halt her advance. Vito looks at me with remorse, as if he is apologetic for something. I can only assume he was the one who told his mother about his father’s return, but I don’t ponder it. Instead, I force my attention back to Sergio without looking back.
“It’s okay, amore mio…” Sergio says to Renata as I nudge him forward. “Everything will fix itself in the end,” he says as he turns his head back to the front.
“Miles!” Renata shouts as she’s held back by the two muscular Thrivers standing duty tonight for the exterior Nocturnal Patrol. “Do you know who I am? Do you know who that is? Get off of me! Miles!” she screams out as the distance between her and me increases.
“As of right now, he’s not on our side!” I shout while continuing to look ahead and gently pushing Sergio forward again. “I pray that I’m right about this!” Amidst Renata’s excessive pleas for the Thrivers to let her through, I hear footsteps approaching from behind me. They sound heavier than Renata’s footsteps, so I turn my head to the side before seeing Corver and Graham usher past the Thrivers acting as a line of defense between Renata, myself, and her husband.
“Boss, there’s something you need to know…” Corver whispers so as not to draw the attention of everyone else around me. As Corver walks alongside Sergio and me, there’s a look of concern in his eyes. He has a distinguishable expression of worry, made clear by the lack of color on his face.
“You’ve only got a minute,” I say as the two near the vehicle parked on the sidewalk begin opening the metal gates in front of us. All three of us stop in our tracks while they do so.
“The other guy we talked to, he was mentioning something about a Sandman. Said something to my brother that I couldn’t hear, so I went to get closer, but-“ Corver whispers as the chain holding the gate shut falls onto the concrete below. “M- my brother slit his throat…. I mean, the poor bastard didn’t even get a chance to say what he had to say before-“ Corver says as a gunshot rings out from behind me.
The chain holding the handcuffs together slips out of my hand as Sergio falls forward and hits the pavement. Blood is sent flying in almost all directions, with some landing on the side of my face and Corver’s. Stunned, I look down to see an entry wound protruding from the back of Sergio’s head. There was blood all over the clothing of the two Thrivers on the other side of the opened gate, with more accumulating on the ground in front of me.
Renata’s scream sends chills down my whole body as I try to gain an understanding of what happened, and it’s only when I turn around that I find out. A frantic Renata brushes past Graham, standing upright with a smug grin and a smoking handgun idle in the air as he holds it up with his arm fully extended.
“Hard times are just one less tear to shed later,” Graham remarks as he lowers his weapon. Some members of the Nocturnal Patrol, the ones who aren’t preoccupied with holding Renata back, tackle Graham to the ground, causing the handgun he was holding to slide away on the pavement.
All of the sounds around me are muffled and distorted. As I stand motionless behind Sergio’s corpse, I can barely make out Renata’s seemingly incomprehensible shouts of hysteria at her deceased husband. Control the situation, Miles… I could barely make out the radio chatter from everyone in the vicinity talking over one another in distress. Control the situation… I can barely make out Vito sobbing uncontrollably as he holds his hands to his mouth in despair. Control it… I can barely make out the shouts of disgust from the Thrivers outside the gates as some of them pace back and forth. Control it all… I can barely make out the sound of the hammer being pulled back on the handgun tucked behind my belt. The only sound I can hear is the sound of my heartbeat as I bring the firearm up to Graham’s head.
Control…
“No!” Corver shouts as he throws his body against mine. The sudden intervention causes me to miss my shot, with the bullet being lodged into the concrete only inches from Graham’s head. As Corver wrestles the gun out of my hand on the ground, the barrel of a rifle is pressed up against his back as Abdul calls him by name. Recognizing the voice, Corver turns around to face him before hesitantly putting his hands up, and I use this as an opportunity to stand.
“You motherfuck-“ I mumble as I kneel on the ground in front of Graham and start pounding his head with my fists. I don’t stop until I’m forcefully pulled off of Graham. Even then, I have to be held back from killing him by multiple people. Even Graham’s most revered haters attempted to hold back my insatiable aggression.
“Fuckin’ hell, if anything, I just did you a solid…” Graham says as he stands to his feet; as he does, he’s quickly dropped to his knees by security as they do their best to contain the situation. My anger is incomprehensible, and everyone knows it. They can sense it.
“This piece of shit… you piece of shit! I want him locked up and the key thrown in the goddamn garbage disposal. Do you understand me?!” I shout as my blood begins to boil from the amount of rage that has built up. Within a few seconds, multiple people drag Graham away as he shouts back at me, to no avail. Looking back at Renata, I can see her sobbing as she lays her head on the head of her late husband.
My god…
“I- I don’t-“ I say before Corver pulls me to my feet and away from her. He grabs my shoulders and shakes me in a desperate attempt to regain my attention.
“Listen to me! We’ll deal with him later. But what do we do now?” Corver asks as he stares into my eyes. “Boss, they’re still out there. Say something, Miles!” he shouts as I throw his arms off me from below.
I glance at the front of the Consulate, examining every window and the faces of curious Thrivers peering out of them, and pause. I look back down to see Vito staring at me, his face wet from all the tears. Turning to Renata, her head still down as she lets out small whimpers, my purpose is made clear as the chaos around us ignites something dark in me that I do not fully understand. As my objective becomes clear, I snap out of it while turning to Corver.
“When you find him, have JB look into Sandman. I want Graham vetted first. And call the traders in our Network to get additional hands on deck by nightfall,” I instruct Corver as I usher past him and walk towards the entrance of the building. “We’re going upstate ourselves,” I declare. The thought of surpassing the Delegation for a decision of this magnitude was irrelevant to me.
