Little World - Chapter Two: A Ringing Phone (365 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by a_little_more_time (View user info) at 2006-11-21 15:15:48 EST
Previous Chapters:
Prologue - Gone: http://www.ubersite.com/m/92662
Chapter One - His Right Hand: http://www.ubersite.com/m/95955
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He awoke abruptly in his bed around eleven at night, the vague feeling of having dreamed but remembering nothing buzzing in his head. He was still for a moment, allowing his mind to clear before sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge. Rising with a grunt, Alexei made his way through his small apartment to the bathroom, yawning and scratching his head. He clicked on the light, ran hot water through the tub's faucet, then turned to regard himself in the mirror.
His frame, which once had been scrawny, had hardened over the last eight years with work and exercise. Nearly his entire upper body was now covered in tattoos; swirling patterns of color that blended into one another, ending suddenly at his wrists. Amidst them were countless small patches of raised skin of various sizes: scars, his medals earned in the line of dastardly duty. He'd been cut, stabbed, shot, and beaten more times than he cared to remember. His latest, a series of burns on his back from when a few Mafia toughs went to town on him with cigarettes and a stun gun, had just finished healing after about three months. He smiled grimly when he recalled what he'd done with them once he'd gotten released from the hospital.
The Cosa Nostra hadn't come within three miles of Yuri's operations since. That was, he supposed, why he got paid the big bucks.
Yuri took care of him, that much was true. The boss took a significant loss for every collection or shakedown he was a part of to keep him happy, and his apartment was part of a property he owned. All told, Alexei had very little overhead; his account, into which Yuri deposited his pay, totaled well into the sixth digit mark, and was located in a city he couldn't even pronounce. For the most part, he'd been very happy with his lot in life; lately, though, he couldn't shake the roiling nausea in his gut. He didn't mind intimidating thugs from other syndicates, or getting in a couple shots on an underboss, but the damage he'd been doing for the last few months wasn't too his liking. He did it, though, but he couldn't help but wonder why.
He turned the shower on. "Looks like there's a price for everything," he muttered.
Alexei washed quickly, then dried off and walked back into his bedroom. He pulled on a pair of black slacks and was in the middle of grabbing a t-shirt from his closet when his phone, sitting, as always, on his night stand, started to ring.
It was a sound he'd learned to ignore. He had a different tone associated with anyone calling regarding work, so there was no need to check the display to know who was calling. The ring he heard now was the general one reserved for unknown numbers, and since it was his only means of communication, he normally never picked up.
It'd been ringing for the last few hours, though, and his curiosity as to who would have his number was too much. He strode over, picked it up and looked at the number. He didn't recognize it, but he pushed the receiver anyway. "Yes?"
"Hello?" The voice on the other end was female and laden with concern. "Who is this?"
Alexei blinked. "I should be the one asking that."
"This is Eleanor Milller. I'm trying to reach Michael Sulllivan. I was told I could do so at this number."
He was silent, stunned for want of words. Finally, after what seemed an hour, he found his tongue and offered a simple statement. "Michael isn't here. What is this regarding?"
She choked back a sob. "Would you please let him know when he gets back that a friend of his, Allison, my daughter, has gone missing?" She sobbed again, this time failing to suppress it. "It's very important that he gets this message. Can you do that?"
Dumbfounded, he nodded and answered. "Y-Yes, I'll see that he does."
"Thank you very much," she spoke hastily, then hung up.
He let the phone drop to the floor and sat down heavily upon his bed. His brain spun with a maelstrom of thoughts at once. The nausea over came him and he rushed into the bathroom, managing to make it to the sink before violently throwing up.
When he recovered, he looked at himself once more. What he had to do was clear. He retrieved his phone and called his boss.
Yuri, true to form, picked up on the first ring. "Alexei."
He took a deep breath, then spoke. "Sir, I apologize for calling at this hour. I'm afraid that something has come up with a friend of mine that requires immediate attention. I'd like to ask for some time off."
There was utter silence on the other end of the line, which no doubt represented Yuri weighing the possibility of granting his request. When he responded, however, his voice was pleasant. "Of course, my brother. I'll just have some of the others take over for you. How long do you need?"
"About a week, I think."
"Certainly. Is everything all right? Is there anything you need me to do?"
He shook his head. "No, sir, though I appreciate the offer. I can handle this myself."
"Fine. Will you contact me when everything is settled?"
"Yes, sir. I promise I will."
"Very good. Take care, Alexei."
"And you as well, sir." He hung up.
He set to it, packing a small Army surplus rucksack full of clothes, his cell charger, and, after a moment of contemplation, his pistol and three small magazines. He finished dressing, throwing on his jean jacket and pocketing his wallet, phone, and keys. He moved swiftly out of the apartment and hurried south for two blocks before turning down an alley.
He halted before a steel roll-down door secured with a padlock, which he released with a key on his chain. He lifted it up to reveal a brand new black Honda VTX1300C motorcycle, a ride he'd purchased only a year ago and had only ridden to keep it tuned. He pushed it out of the garage and was relieved when it started right up. Alexei closed the garage behind him, locked it once more, then took off down the street.
Once he got out of the city, he headed north.
North toward Two Rivers.
* * * * *
He arrived a couple hours later, just after one in the morning. Two Rivers was a tiny town, the classic archetype consisting of only a handful of streets and a single light that was a flashing yellow all day except for when school was starting and ending. He pulled slowly into the Miller's Tavern parking lot and shut the cycle off. He shouldered the bag and strode slowly up to the door. He placed his hand on the door handle, heaved a sigh, then stepped inside.
A bell tinkled gently as it closed behind him. The tiny bar was empty save for one old man at the end and the tender, a twenty-something male with long, straight brown hair. He had a slight scowl on his face and did not look to regard Alexei as he walked up to the bar and took a seat. He had to rap on the wood to get his attention.
He glanced up, gave him the once-over, then spoke quietly. "Help you, man?"
Alexei reached into his coat and withdrew his cigarettes. "Stoli and tonic, please." He lit one.
The bartender shook his head. "Ain't got it. Five O' Clock good?"
He nodded. "If that's all you got." He took a deep drag, held it, then exhaled. The man made the drink carefully, then placed it before him. Alexei drained it in a single go, then signaled for another.
The bartender cast him a sidelong glance has he poured the second. "You here visitin' someone?"
He elected to lie. It was best to take advantage of the distinct possibility that no one would recognize him. If he kept his profile low, he might be able to get some information without alerting the populace. "Nope. Just passin' though."
The taciturn barkeep nodded slowly, handing him the booze. "Got a motel just down the way, if you fancy a rest."
"Obliged." He sipped this one and, finishing his smoke, fired up another. "You sure they'll be open this late?"
He shrugged. "Would be for anyone willin' to pay." He turned to restock the glasses stacked along the wall. "Figure a fella like you would have plenty of cash. Right?"
Alexei looked up, startled, just as the bartender whirled suddenly around and punched him right in the face. He let out a startled grunt as he toppled backward off the barstool and tumbled to the floor. He opened his eyes to see the bartender standing over him.
He spat right in his face, then sneered down at him. "Welcome home," he spoke, his voice laden with contempt. "Michael."
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"It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming `Let me out'
Pray tomorrow takes me higher
Pressure on people, people on streets."
- David Bowie, "Under Pressure"
User Reviews
Submitted by Tyrell (user info) at 2006-12-06 20:10:34 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
go eat some tee and crumples, whitey.
Submitted by YoMikeyA (user info) at 2006-11-21 23:36:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i enjoyed this post and also thanks for rating my first post and not being an asshole as many are sure to follow
Submitted by a_little_more_time (user info) at 2006-11-21 20:30:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2006-11-21 20:28:35 (#)
Ranking: 2
you seem to be under the impression this a 'serious writers forum'.
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Y-You mean it ISN'T?
*cries emo tears*
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2006-11-21 20:28:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you seem to be under the impression this a 'serious writers forum'.
Submitted by MadameDestrukt (user info) at 2006-11-21 18:23:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You can't get rated to save your life, can ya?
Well, I'm enjoying it.