Cry Revenge (17 page)

Jay stepped in front of Pedro. "Pedro," he pleaded, "let's just take the money, amigo, and split. If we should want this punk, man, we'll know where to find him."

George climbed up against the wall and leaned back. The pain in his leg was just beginning, but he could easily endure it if that was all that happened. But he was not to be that lucky. He watched as the wild-eyed Pedro shoved past Jay and regained his feet. He rushed over to George, murmuring curses under his breath. Specks of foam seemed to be forming at the corners of his mouth.

George tried to raise his feet and keep his legs in front of him. As Pedro came rushing up, George raised one of his legs and kicked out with it. Though he had never been a fighter, George realized that his life was involved now. He kicked wildly at the frantic Pedro.

Pedro avoided his leg and bent over and stabbed George twice with the knife. Each time the knife went in, George let out a scream.

"Goddamn it, Emilio," Vic yelled at the top of his voice, "do something about your brother! He's blow ing his fuckin' marbles!"

Emilio was too shocked by his brother's actions to react. All he could do was stand and stare at Pedro like someone watching a horror movie. He was shocked almost out of his wits!

Maria, unlike Emilio, had seen too much violence in her lifetime not to recognize insanity when she saw it. It was out of hand now, she knew. The only thing she could think of was a way out for herself. George was hurt. She didn't know how badly, but she knew it was serious. If someone didn't do something soon, she might be lying on the floor bleeding alongside George.

Watching for her chance, Maria suddenly jumped up from the floor and made her run for the door. She managed to get it open before she was caught from behind.

As Maria lunged for the door, Pedro saw her and yelled at Jay. "Take care of that lying bitch!" The order worked on the heavyset Jay like a command. Before, as he stood filing his knife, he hadn't known what to do, but now that someone had given him a direct order, he went right into action.

Jay caught Maria from behind. As she opened the door, he grabbed her around the neck and pulled her back inside the apartment. Even though he had her neck, he didn't stop her from screaming until he got her back into the apartment. He didn't even remember sticking the long-bladed knife into her back.

When she fell back into his arms, blood gushed out of the back wound covering his hands and arms. The checkered white jacket he wore was covered with red.

The other two men in the apartment didn't even realize that Jay had stabbed the woman until she screamed. "George, George, he's killing me," Maria yelled hysterically.

The sound of the woman's voice caused Pedro and Emilio to glance at the struggling pair by the door. What they saw would stay in their minds until the day they died. Maria tried to pull away from the pain in her back, and when she finally managed to turn and face Jay, her white blouse was completely covered with blood.

Without even knowing what he was doing, Jay continued to stab the woman. First he hit her in the chest with the knife, then he slashed downward, making a long cut on her neck. Maria slumped in his arms, but it didn't make any difference. Jay was past knowing what he was doing. He was caught up in the bloodrush of the moment.

George managed to get to his feet. As Pedro glanced around to see what his partners were doing, George struck out. He had had a glimpse of Maria and knew in his heart that they didn't stand a chance. All he wanted now was to make someone pay for what they were doing.

George's fist caught Pedro flush in the face, breaking the nose. Pedro let out a scream of pain before George struck him again. George was a fat man, but he was strong. His punches dazed the younger and smaller man.

Before Emilio could come to Pedro's rescue, George raised his foot and kicked the man in the groin. Reaching down for the falling Pedro, George grabbed the front of Pedro's shirt and brought his fist down in a crunching blow on his uplifted face.

Emilio, seeing the punishment his brother was taking, came out of his daze long enough to help. As he went toward the struggling pair, Vic ran around him and grabbed the suitcase. He wanted to open it, but he knew the rest of them would come to their senses before he could finish doing it.

With the suitcase under his arm, Vic rushed for the front door. He stopped in the doorway and took one more glance back at the madness going on inside the blood-spattered flat. For a second, he couldn't take his eyes off the shocking sight.

Emilio had George in a bear hug from the rear. He was pulling the enraged fat man backwards, away from his screaming brother. The stab wounds didn't seem to bother George as he made a frantic last effort to break loose and reach the man in front of him.

Pedro was whimpering like a hurt dog, while feebly wiping at the blood that came streaming down from his broken nose. As Vic watched, George managed to push backwards, slamming Emilio against the wall. The sound of the two bodies hitting the apartment wall was loud.

"Goddamn," Vic muttered over and over again. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen when Pedro had called him up and invited him to take part in the job of putting Fat George in his place. All Vic had believed would happen was that George would get a good ass-kicking to teach him a lesson. Now it was beyond anyone's control.

One look at the woman on the floor was enough to tell a man that murder had been committed. Maria lay at the feet of Jay, who was standing over her body looking stupid. He still held the knife in his huge hand, but he didn't seem to know what he had done. His face had a vacant look about it. He stared around dumbfounded.

"Oh, shit," Vic murmured. It was completely out of hand. Without another look, he pushed the door open and went out. With the money he had in the suitcase, he could put a lot of miles between himself and the police. It was just a matter of time, he believed, before somebody called them up. All the noise they had made should have been reported. As Vic ran down the hallway he noticed people peeping out of their half-open doors. At his approach, they quickly slammed the doors closed again, but they had enough time to get a good look at him.

Well, it wouldn't really matter, he believed, if he was able to get away from here. Vic took the stairway three steps at a time. The large suitcase under his arm caused a little problem with his progress, but it didn't hinder him that much. Before he reached the bottom steps, the door leading to the outside flew open and two uniformed police officers came through.

Vic tried to stop instantly, but his momentum was too great. He clutched at the suitcase as he felt it slipping from his grip. By the time he had the bag firm ly in his grip, he was staring into the barrels of two huge pistols.

"Hold it right there!" one of the officers yelled out loudly.

He might as well have remained silent for all his order meant. Vic didn't have any thoughts of giving himself up. As a picture of the mayhem in the apartment flashed through his mind, Vic whirled around on his heels and started back up the steps. He had to get away. There could be no thoughts of giving up. To surrender would mean he would be charged with murder. Even though he hadn't participated in any of the insanity that had gone down, he had been there, and that was enough to get him convicted.

"I said halt!" the officer called out at the top of his voice.

Just a few more feet, Vic prayed as he took the stairway two steps at a time on his way back up. The sound of the policemen cocking their weapons went unheard by the fleeing man as panic filled his very being. The only thing on his mind was flight, nothing else. If he could only gain the top floor, he might be able to avoid the inevitable.

The sound of the pistols never reached him. He was struck in the back and lifted the rest of the way up the stairs. Vic staggered from one side of the hallway to the other, still holding tightly to the suitcase. For some reason, the suitcase was important, though he couldn't think of the reason now. The weight of the bag became too heavy and he let it slip from his grip. He continued to stagger onward.

The policemen ran up the stairway in time to see Vic slowly crumpling against the wall. "Why didn't the bastard stop?" one of the officers said. "Jesus Christ, he never had a chance of getting away."

The other officer glanced over at his partner. "Whatever he was running from, he believed it was bad enough to take a chance with his life!"

An elderly woman came out of her apartment and beckoned to the policemen. As they approached, she began to speak. "I'm Mrs. Davis. I'm the one who called," she stated, as though she was entitled to a medal. When she saw the officers weren't going to say anything, she continued. "It's been going on in that apartment, right there," she stated and pointed out Fat George's apartment. "I don't know what's going on in there, but the woman's been screaming at the top of her lungs, and it's not like them folks. They're generally quiet, even though they're Mexicans. There's seldom any noise made in that apartment."

The sound of the gunshots out in the hallway had done more to bring sanity to the men inside the apartment than anything else could have. Emilio snapped out of the dream-like state he had been in. With one well-placed rabbit punch, he knocked Fat George down to his knees. Before the fat man could open his mouth, Emilio had removed a hankie from his pocket and crammed it down the fat man's throat. George continued to struggle, but another punch to the back of the neck dropped him to the floor.

Pedro had found his nerve again. He moved toward the pair of men with his knife out. Emilio reached around George and knocked the knife out of his brother's hand.

"You fool, you," Emilio snarled. "Haven't you made enough of a mess out of this shit already? Let's hope like hell Fat George doesn't die on us, you dumb bastard!"

"Like hell," Pedro growled, then quickly removed a small caliber pistol from his inside pocket. Before Emilio could reach him, Pedro had pointed the gun at the man on the floor and pulled the trigger. The sound of the small pistol going off in the apartment wasn't as loud as a firecracker, but it was loud enough.

"Goddamn," Emilio growled, then ran toward the wide windows that looked out on the well-kept grounds of the building. As he searched wildly for the window lock, Emilio heard his brother open the front door of the apartment.

The sight of the young man covered with blood coming out of the apartment carrying a pistol in his right hand took both officers by surprise.

Pedro was just as surprised to find policemen in the hallway. He panicked and began to run. There was no thought in his mind to stay and fight. Even though he held a pistol, he had no intention of using it.

"Drop that weapon!" one of the policemen yelled out loudly.

Pedro didn't even hear the order. He was too intent on fleeing. Before he reached the stairway, both policemen had raised their weapons. One of them put a shot over Pedro's head trying to warn him, while his partner took a more serious aim. When Pedro didn't drop the weapon and continued to run, the second policeman held his weapon in both hands and pulled the trigger.

The bullet went into Pedro's back and came out his chest. The force of the shot knocked the pistol out of Pedro's hand as he stumbled and fell, his fingers clutching at the banisters. His hand opened and closed, and then he died. The wild light in his eyes became dim and then went out completely as the last flicker of life left the body.

Inside the apartment, Emilio heard the gunshots. They added speed to his search for a catch on the window. Not finding one, he picked up a small chair and tossed it through the glass. The sound of breaking glass was heard by the policemen.

Using the chair, Emilio knocked the rest of the glass away from the edges of the window. He didn't want to get cut when he went out the window. Emilio took another glance outside. The jump was just two floors so it wouldn't be all that bad, he reasoned. Quickly he stuck his legs out and began to lower himself out the window.

At the sound of the glass breaking, Jay looked up from where he stood. He still couldn't get over what had happened. It was like another person had taken over his body. He watched Emilio go out the window, wanting to run over and go with him, but for some reason he couldn't keep his eyes off the dead woman at his feet. He couldn't understand why he felt guilty for her death. It wasn't his fault.

The sudden commotion of people jamming the doorway came to Jay as though from far away. He saw the two men in blue uniforms come in, but didn't pay them any heed.

"Sonofabitch," one of the officers cursed as he took in the blood-smeared apartment. His partner had seen a man's hands on the window sill as they came rushing in. He ran towards the window.

Emilio dropped from the broken window. He landed on his feet but quickly rolled over, taking the weight of the drop off his ankles. When he regained his feet, he glanced up to see a white-faced policeman leaning down pointing a pistol at him.

"Hold it right there!" the policeman yelled out. "Don't make me kill you"

At the sound of the order, Emilio froze. But as he realized what he had left behind, the idea of surrendering left his mind. He could still see Jay standing over the dead woman. There was no way he was going to give himself up for a murder charge. Taking one more quick look up at the man in the window, Emilio made up his mind. He broke to the right first, then zig-zagged back toward his left, hoping to throw the policeman's aim off.

The first shot missed him by three feet. Emilio cut back to his right quickly, searching for the safest route. If he could only reach the parking lot, he reasoned, he'd have a good chance of getting away. Their car was parked there, and once he reached it he could be gone before the policemen could get back down the steps.

The officer in the window rested his pistol on the edge of the window frame and took dead aim, then slowly pulled the trigger. Even before he fired he knew he had missed. Emilio had cut back quickly to his left at the same moment.

Damn, the policeman cursed under his breath. He took his time and aimed again. This time he allowed the fleeing man to make his sudden cut. He waited patiently until Emilio cut back again. As soon as he was sure the man wouldn't make another cut, he slowly squeezed off his next shot. He let out a grunt of satisfaction as he saw the fleeing man stumble.