Chapitre 9: ROAD - Rolex, Olives, Abby, Death
I turned a 360. I didn't see her anywhere. The road was completely empty.
For a second I thought I might have imagined ever meeting her. It could have been possible. I hadn't eaten much that day and I'd been walking for hours on end. I was exhausted. I could have been hallucinating. But the two pairs of footsteps sobered me up.
I realized that I could just keep going. I could ditch her by the side of the road, like the people who dump their dogs out on the side of the highway leaving the truckers to pick em up. She wasn't my fucking responsibilty.
I grabbed the straps of my backpack and continued.
I wasn't going to let anyone hold me back.
Karma fucked with me. Everything went black.
I awoke to a dull throbbing in my temples. I opened my eyes and immeditaly closed them again. The bright flourescent lights burned through my eyelids. I forced myself to slowly open them. After about ten seconds it wasn't painfully bright anymore. I sat up. To my surprise my wrists weren't tied together, neither was I roped to a chair or in any way, bound. I was behind the counter in a gas station, next to where the cigarette shelves are. I got up slowly, grabbing the counter for support. On first sight I didn't see anyone else in the store. Than I saw a man next to the door I guessed lead to the back room. He was staring at me.
"Hey. Were you the guy who fucked me outside?" I called over to him. He didn't answer. I walked around the counter and over to him. I kept my pace steady. He shouldn't know that my heart was racing. I'd never really fought a person, I'd only fucked wasp-like beasts. To survive in this world I'd need to get a lot tougher. "Did you take Abby?" I asked.
"She's in that room." He said and nodded at the door.
"Is someone going to shoot me on the spot if I enter?" I asked. He laughed a little and shook his head.
"Not if I go with you." He opened the door, stepped inside and gestured at me to follow. I did. He closed the door behind me which made me a bit nervous. I tried to hide it.
The room was small. It was rectangular, with 2x = y. There was round table. There's no head at a round table, but you could still tell which guy was the leader. All present were fifty or older. There were few younger men due to the war. Unless you'd been lucky like me and never gotten mobilizied. Had the war gone on for two or three months longer I would have been called in.
The men were all wearing different clothes. The man at the head wore a suit. They looked american with european descent.
"I heard you've got Abby." I said flatly.
"Yes, we have her." The man at the head said. He had big square glasses. His style was from a different time. I smiled slightly and looked him in the eyes. He looked bug-eyed because of the strange black glasses.
"Can I have her back?"
"What will we get in return?" He asked without hesitation.
"What do you want?" He seemed irritated at my response. As if he wanted me to know what he wanted. Since I there was no radio transmission anymore I didn't know what was going outside of my corner of NYC. Maybe people had started creating a system based on slavery or work in exchange for food and a place to stay. I had no fucking idea in the slightest what the man wanted.
"We want you to join us." He finally answered.
"I'm not looking to join anything. I've got my own place."
"If it's your own, I doubt you really want the girl back." He said, dropping the smile he'd had before. I shrugged.
"Honestly I don't give a shit about her. But I'm a decent guy. If she's in trouble I'll try to help. If she wants to stay with you, then so be it. I don't care." My honesty might have surprised them but they didn't show it. Maybe they thought I was trying to downplay her importance that they'd be more likely to set her free. "You guys kind of kidnapped her. Even though our justice system isn't up and running, at least as far as I know, it doesn't make that alright."
"We're not going to keep her if she doesn't want to stay."
"Why'd you ambush us then?" He ignored my question which made me think that they would keep her even if she didn't want that. "Look. I don't want any trouble with ya'll, just give Abby back and we'll get the fuck out of here. We won't bother you." He didn't answer me. He looked at his watch. It was a rolex. Must have cost about 20'000 dollars. Now it was meaningless.
"Would you like a Martini?" He asked me. I didn't know if that was code for torture.
"Do you think I would?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll have one." He nodded and as if on cue, all the other men left the room through the door I'd came in. I don't remeber how many of them there were. I was too nervous. He patted the chair next to him. I took a seat. He smelled of tobacco.
A second later the doorman brought in two Martinis. One had two olives, the other had one. "I always drink mine with two olives." He said matter-of-factly, almost like an old man explaining something to his grandson. I took a sip first. If they'd wanted to kill me they could have already. It tasted great. I hadn't had alcohol since a few weeks, one time Joline had had a red wine. The thought of Joline made me kind of sad. I'd probably never see her again. "How are you, Emmanuel?" He asked me. I almost spit out my vodka. How did he know my name was Emmanuel? Not even Abby knew that, I'd told her my name was Mack.
"I'm alright. A bit unhappy about the kidnapping. What about yourself?"
"I'm sick. Today is one of my better days."
"What do you have?"
"Cancer." He said and fished a cigar out of his breast pocket.
"Cancer." I repeated thoughtfully. I'd forgotten that illnesses were still around and could still end terminally.
"I think I will die in a week from today." He said in the same tone he'd asked me about my health. "That's the reason I made them kidnap you. I was lonely. I wanted someone to talk too, someone who isn't like us." He gestured at the table, which was empty, but I knew what he meant. "They know everything already. I don't want to bore them any longer." He puffed on his cigar and thoughtfully stared into the distance. "I thought I wanted to talk to a woman, but I just realized I want to talk to a man. Are you a man, Emmanuel?"
"Yes, yes I am. How do you know my name?"
"That doesn't matter. I'm happy you don't know mine."
"Why?"
"It means I was a good boss. A good Godfather." My suspicions were confirmed by his words. He was part of the Mafia. I wondered why his cronies hadn't been wearing suits, didn't the mafia? I must have voiced my thoughts out loud because he answered.
"I told them to stop wearing them. They'll have to start something new when I die. None of the Underbosses survived the war, and soldiers can't become Godfathers. I encouraged them to reset their lives, starting with slowly losing their habits..."
"You still had them kidnap someone." I said trying to make him laugh. He smiled. Better than nothing, I guessed.
"Yes. I did." He handed his cigar to me. I took a puff. I was glad as hell that I'd smoked pot a few days prior. I think I would have puked otherwise. "I never had grandchildren."
"Don't worry, I don't have children either." I said. He stretched his palm out. I gave him back the cigar. Had I said something wrong?
"My name is Andreas." He said after a moment in which he took another sip of his drink. "Andreas..." He looked at me. I stared back. He was comftorable to be around. I'd never expected that from a Mafia Boss. "If you have a son, ever, will you call him Andreas?"
"Will I get Abby back if I do." It wasn't really a question even though it was.
"You'll get her back either way." He said and waved his hand. "I already told you I just wanted to talk."
"Then can I have her? We wanted to make a few more miles until dark."
"Go ahead, take her." He said. His mood had changed. Such capricious men those leaders. Without having been commanded the men returned into the room, one of them was holding a shocked and scared looking Abby. I got up the second I saw her. She eyed me suspiciously. Why was the man she was travelling with drinking Martini's with the Megaboss. I reached out to shake his hand. He had a strong grip for a dying man.
"Thanks for the Martini." I wanted to add; and fuck you for slowing me down but I chose respect over risk. I walked over to Abby. The men let her go the second I reached her. I ushered her though the door and looked back to say one last thing. "I'll name him Andreas." The old man's face warmed up with a smile. I smiled back.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone