Detroit, Michigan 1992
This world holds no more secrets anymore, we walk along a set path never doubting what’s behind the corner. A dark alley is followed by unsavory characters, a dead body is followed by grief.
Life can end just as soon as it starts, death is unbiased in that regard.
Blood flows from my body like an intermittent river, trying to make up its mind whether I live or die. Knife wound, bash to the head, gunshot wound, dislocated shoulder and three broken ribs. I feel like hell… look like it to.
The bathroom mirror shows me a face I haven’t seen in years, someone with a purpose, a direction… an end goal.
I’m not in the best of shape, a well placed jab would knock me to my knees. Adrenaline whispers in my ear, tells me to go on, to continue on this path no matter the outcome.
I gather my composure, anticipating the presence of my would be assassins. I go into a booth and stand on the porcelain throne, waiting.
A man walks inside.
“Keep looking for him.”
Hinderman
“I’m just gonna use the john.”
The difference between a good lawyer and a bad one is assumption, Hinderman is a bad one.
He heads to a booth, I climb down from my septic hiding place. Once he closes the door I open mine, carefully walking on eggshells.
He's comfortable now, letting down all his defenses. He didn’t lock the door, first mistake, caught with his pants down, second.
His face says it all, he’s alone, seated, vulnerable… he contemplates shouting for help, a quick jab to the throat clears up any confusion.
I’m wearing a dressing gown, it leaves little to the imagination. Luckily Hinderman’s about my size.
I go to the sink and wash my hands, leaving Hinderman drinking toilet water. I’ve never worn such an expensive suit before, makes me feel like a monkey at a costumed ball.
I open the door, taking care to peer out before I do… seems safe enough. I check behind me, fool me once, shame on me. This time I’m alone.
My room is empty, the things I arrived in are folded neatly on a chair. Blood drips from my cut open shirt, I’ll stick with the suit.
My hat and coat stand to attention in the corner of the room. No sense in letting them go to waste.
The two men Hinderman arrived with come running out the restroom, seems they’ve found the gift I left them.
I open the window, I’ve jumped from higher places, but in this broken shell of my former self I may not make it.
The two gorillas running my way help me decide.
I hit the ground hard, trying to roll as I do. Bones crunch under the pressure, I feel like I’m on fire. Gunshots ricochet around me, I push forward, an explosion of blood escapes my lips as I try to breath out. This is not good. Have to carry on.
I make it to the end of the parking lot, I feel like I’ve just ran a marathon. But this isn’t the finish line, not even half way yet. Have to carry on.
A yellow cab pulls up beside me, if I believed in God I’d thank him on the spot. I stumble inside, growling out my destination as I do.
Hinderman’s pockets are full, a wallet, car keys… and... whats this? A piece of paper torn from a notebook, it reads “Six o clock, Rivertown, come alone.” There’s nothing like a new lead to generate hope in a detectives mine. The clock on the dash reaffirms my already planned upon decision. I amend my direction, telling him to step on it, kicking my self as I do.
He drives for what seems like forever, once we arrive I give him Hindermans wallet, tell him to keep it. He takes the money without question whilst a smile forms on his face, even saviors succumb to greed.
I open up the door and climb out, this place is old… feels like a ghost town. The cab drives away, leaving me with my thoughts. My attention is caught by an approaching shadow, appearing a disappearing under the setting sun.
He walks up to me and stops just short of reaching distance.
“Are you Hinderman?”
This obviously isn’t a social call.
“Do you have the money.”
Blackmail.
“No”
Sandpaper grinds against my vocal chords.
He pulls a gun.
“Then I think we have a problem.”
My night just keeps on getting better.
To be continued…
This world holds no more secrets anymore, we walk along a set path never doubting what’s behind the corner. A dark alley is followed by unsavory characters, a dead body is followed by grief.
Life can end just as soon as it starts, death is unbiased in that regard.
Blood flows from my body like an intermittent river, trying to make up its mind whether I live or die. Knife wound, bash to the head, gunshot wound, dislocated shoulder and three broken ribs. I feel like hell… look like it to.
The bathroom mirror shows me a face I haven’t seen in years, someone with a purpose, a direction… an end goal.
I’m not in the best of shape, a well placed jab would knock me to my knees. Adrenaline whispers in my ear, tells me to go on, to continue on this path no matter the outcome.
I gather my composure, anticipating the presence of my would be assassins. I go into a booth and stand on the porcelain throne, waiting.
A man walks inside.
“Keep looking for him.”
Hinderman
“I’m just gonna use the john.”
The difference between a good lawyer and a bad one is assumption, Hinderman is a bad one.
He heads to a booth, I climb down from my septic hiding place. Once he closes the door I open mine, carefully walking on eggshells.
He's comfortable now, letting down all his defenses. He didn’t lock the door, first mistake, caught with his pants down, second.
His face says it all, he’s alone, seated, vulnerable… he contemplates shouting for help, a quick jab to the throat clears up any confusion.
I’m wearing a dressing gown, it leaves little to the imagination. Luckily Hinderman’s about my size.
I go to the sink and wash my hands, leaving Hinderman drinking toilet water. I’ve never worn such an expensive suit before, makes me feel like a monkey at a costumed ball.
I open the door, taking care to peer out before I do… seems safe enough. I check behind me, fool me once, shame on me. This time I’m alone.
My room is empty, the things I arrived in are folded neatly on a chair. Blood drips from my cut open shirt, I’ll stick with the suit.
My hat and coat stand to attention in the corner of the room. No sense in letting them go to waste.
The two men Hinderman arrived with come running out the restroom, seems they’ve found the gift I left them.
I open the window, I’ve jumped from higher places, but in this broken shell of my former self I may not make it.
The two gorillas running my way help me decide.
I hit the ground hard, trying to roll as I do. Bones crunch under the pressure, I feel like I’m on fire. Gunshots ricochet around me, I push forward, an explosion of blood escapes my lips as I try to breath out. This is not good. Have to carry on.
I make it to the end of the parking lot, I feel like I’ve just ran a marathon. But this isn’t the finish line, not even half way yet. Have to carry on.
A yellow cab pulls up beside me, if I believed in God I’d thank him on the spot. I stumble inside, growling out my destination as I do.
Hinderman’s pockets are full, a wallet, car keys… and... whats this? A piece of paper torn from a notebook, it reads “Six o clock, Rivertown, come alone.” There’s nothing like a new lead to generate hope in a detectives mine. The clock on the dash reaffirms my already planned upon decision. I amend my direction, telling him to step on it, kicking my self as I do.
He drives for what seems like forever, once we arrive I give him Hindermans wallet, tell him to keep it. He takes the money without question whilst a smile forms on his face, even saviors succumb to greed.
I open up the door and climb out, this place is old… feels like a ghost town. The cab drives away, leaving me with my thoughts. My attention is caught by an approaching shadow, appearing a disappearing under the setting sun.
He walks up to me and stops just short of reaching distance.
“Are you Hinderman?”
This obviously isn’t a social call.
“Do you have the money.”
Blackmail.
“No”
Sandpaper grinds against my vocal chords.
He pulls a gun.
“Then I think we have a problem.”
My night just keeps on getting better.
To be continued…
