Being Nobody

Chapter Four

Some time later, I wake with a start, and clamp a hand over my mouth to smother my scream. My body shakes and sweats and refuses to stop. In front of my eyes I relive that day, even though I’m now awake, I can still see it happening. I hear the gunshots although they should be nothing but a distant memory and I see…

I snap my eyes shut again and try to remember before… it happened. I remember the soft, powdery blue sky, the grass so soft beneath my cheek…

Slowly, my heart and pulse calms down. I remember everything about the world before the war. My mind regresses to a place where my body can’t follow. A place where I can find peace...

My leg jerks, and pain flashes through my muscles, bringing me back out of my trance.

I pull my injured leg to my chest despite the pain and lean my forehead against my knee, cursing softly under my breath. The memories come rushing back once again. I feel a tear slip out of the corner of my eye and brush it away. What’s done is done, I can’t change the past, no one can, no matter what. No matter what…

My eyes snap open and tentatively, I place my foot back on the floor. I look at the envelope sitting on the cushion to my right, and at the package to my left. Not now, I remind myself.

Standing, I carefully make my way over to the bathroom. Most of my supplies are scattered all over the floor, and I pick out what I need. Sitting down on the toilet, I change the bandage on my leg and the ones on my hands. The cuts have scabbed over but still sting, particularly when I curl my hand into a fist.

I avoid looking at the mirror above the sink opposite me and stand up. Briefly, I feel pain stab through my leg, and I search through the cabinet hanging on the wall. I find what I’m looking for easily, the soldiers overlooked it as simple painkillers. The bottle is so small it fits into the palm of my hand and it’s only half-full. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

I slip it into my pocket and return to the couch. I pick up the two items and place them on the coffee table in front of me, the package to my left, and the envelope to my right. In the middle, I place a small handgun that I have hidden in a holster on the inside of my ankle. I’m surprised the soldiers didn’t frisk me.

I close my eyes, reach out with one hand, and I spin the gun. It spins faster than what I can see, and eventually ends up pointing towards the envelope. I let out a breath and realize that Patricia is the feminine form of Patrick, which is often shortened into Paddy. And right now I really don’t wanna know what he wants.

I reach for the envelope, it’s unmarked, addressed to no one and it feels as it there’s only a thin card inside. I stand and retrieve a knife from the kitchen. There’s a seal on the back, made with candle wax and from the looks of it, it’s stamped with an old ring. Carefully, I cut away the seal, keeping it as in tact as I can, and place it on the table.

Opening the envelope, I find two sheets of paper inside; one is an invitation for a conference next week in a city fifty miles away. On the other sheet, five words are written in smooth, flowing writing.

“I will see you there.” I say, and beneath it is an elegant signature. I recognize it immediately and slide it back in the envelope. I’ll need to start preparing to leave again, and just when I was beginning to like this city. I place the envelope back on the table and turn my attention towards the package.

Shaking my head, I reach for the package and hold it up in front of me. It feels unusually heavy in my hand, and carefully, I open it. The object it holds falls out into my waiting fingers. I unwrap the cloth covering whatever it is, and I find I’m holding an old picture frame, with the picture still in it. It’s starting to yellow with age, but I’d recognize it anywhere.

Scowling, I slam it face down on the table, shattering the glass and sending shards flying. Glowering with rage, I fall back against the couch. I run my hands over my face, digging my nails into my skin and feel anger rush through me. I look up at the ceiling, and then back down at the shattered picture frame. I pick the photograph out of the broken frame, careful not to cut myself on the glass and look at it.

More memories dig themselves out of my past and play before my eyes. I crumple the photo in my hand as anger burns its way through me. Closing my eyes, I bring the crushed photo closer and sniff. It even still smells the same.

My eyes snap open and I stand, walk over to the hidden compartment and open it. I pocket the photo and grab the weapons closest to hand. Throwing them on the bed, I sift through my clothes until I find ones suitable for my next little excursion.

Fully dressed in black jeans, shirt and long, leather duster, I grab the weapons and conceal them on my body. It won’t do to be arrested for illegal possession, the hardest weapon to hide will be the shotgun, and I’m definitely going to need that. I load the weapon and hide it in the folds of my duster where hopefully no one will notice it.

I am going to kill that son of a bitch. And this time, I am going to make sure I finish the job. This time, there will be zero mistakes.

Somehow, Paddy managed to find me, and if he can find me, then I can find him. I know everything there is to know about him, his favorite weapon, how he likes his food, and even his favorite past time, which I might add, is not very difficult to figure out. He has one major weakness; Paddy is a complete ladies’ man. Everywhere he goes, he has to have a woman hanging onto his arm, pretending to catch every word he says. And what’s the best way to find a woman? Go to a brothel.

-

It doesn’t take me long to find out where the biggest brothel in town is. No matter where I go, I hear people talking about it, and how it’s supposed to be raided sometime this week. This doesn’t give me very long to find the place and find Paddy, but I don’t worry about it. It won’t take me very long to find Paddy, particularly when he knows that I’ll be out looking for him thanks to his stupid little prank.

It takes me a few hours of wandering round the city and searching all the likely spots to find the place. I didn’t bother checking on the computer because stuff like that is A, difficult to come by and B, usually monitored. And if they figure out that a ‘well-respected’ businessman is looking for someone to sleep with after being raided only a few hours before, then that’s going to raise a few red flags.

I finally find what I’m looking for on the wall of an old nightclub just south of the river. There’s a poster on the door that reads ‘NO ENTRY’ in big sprawling red letters, but in the upper right corner is a picture of a woman with her legs spread and her hands suggestively in between her thighs. It’s an easy enough symbol to recognize.

I start to reach for the handle of the door when the slider moves and a pair of angry black eyes glare down at me.

“Can’t you read?” a deep voice booms out.

“Yeah,” I answer, and point at the picture with one hand. I can feel my old Irish accent returning with every word I say. “That says bar. And I need a fucking drink, so you gonna let me in or what?”

A hint of amusement appears in the eyes before they disappear behind the iron shutter. A second later, the door opens, revealing a large heavy white man with a squashed nose and a jaw that has been broken at least a couple of times. He gestures for me to come inside, shuts the door behind me with a metallic clang and gestures for me to follow him.

“Am afraid Paddy aint here yet,” the man says, obviously having recognized my accent. He’s at least a foot taller than me and blocks most of the dull light coming from various lamps positioned along the corridor as we walk along it. “You a friend?” he asks with a glance over his shoulder.

“Aye,” I answer with a smirk. “I s’pose you could say that.” When he gives me a strange look, I hastily continue, “We haven’t seen each other in a while so I figured that since I’d heard he was in town, I’d drop by and say hi.”

More like blow his fucking brains out but I don’t really wanna get kicked out before I get a chance to look.

The bouncer seems to accept this, though, and keeps going without another word. After a few more minutes of walking, he stops in front of another heavy metal door and pushes it open. The bar has a distinct 20th century feel to it, painted in dark browns and furnished with hard wood instead of metal or chrome. There’s even an old jukebox in one corner that someone obviously saved from the scrap heap, even though it still works. I don’t recognize the song that plays.

“Thanks!” I tell the man. The bouncer nods as I move past him and into the club. He slams the door behind me and I shiver as I feel the gust of air hit my back.

Taking a deep breath, I look around, searching for anyone that might stick out against the crowd. I force myself to concentrate away from the really crap music, and take a better look around. To my left, tables are scattered all over the floor, and there’s a TV on the wall in the far left corner. On my right is the bar, and behind that is the stage. There are three girls on tonight, each dressed in different ‘outfits’ and hugging two poles between them. Straight opposite me are several doors that must either lead to bathrooms or back rooms for private viewings.

I make my way over to the bar and order a beer from the waitress. She gives me a once over before serving my drink. I’m not sure how long I’m going to have to wait for Paddy, so I’ll have to hope my patience holds, otherwise I’m going to be too drunk to even aim at him.

Luckily, I don’t have to wait long, although I’m sure he was tipped off. The instant he walks into the bar, he scans the crowd and I duck behind a guy almost twice as big as me. If Paddy has spotted me, then he doesn’t make his move.

I take a swig of my drink and cast a casual glance over my shoulder. Paddy and four or five others are sitting round a booth at the other side of the room. He glances up for the briefest of minutes and a smirk crosses his face. I turn to look at the girl at the furthest end of the bar, keeping an eye on Paddy out the corner of my eye.

He stands and smiles at one of his friends, they shake hands, and he makes his way over to one of the doors. I swallow the rest of my drink, and lay a fifty down on the table. It’s more than enough to cover my beer, but I’m a bit too pre-occupied on following Paddy before I realize what I did.

Carefully, I thread through the crowd and through the door that Paddy disappeared through only seconds before. I find myself in a long dim corridor lined with doors. Looks like I was right about the back room thing. And now I have a little problem, I have no clue where Paddy went. I wonder for a second whether I should wait for him to exit whichever door he went through but dismiss it immediately. For all I know he might’ve gone right the way down and gone out the back door. Shaking my head slightly, I start to head down the corridor.

Only a few steps down I hear a familiar voice laughing. The sound comes from the door on my right marked ‘Bathroom’. I roll my eyes, one of my hands rests lightly on the 9mm at my hip as I reach for the handle with the other and step inside.

A guy pushes past me and into the hallway, the door closes behind me with a gentle click. There’s a couple of stalls in the far corner, and urinals line the wall from there to the door. The white lights flicker overhead, bouncing off the sickly grey walls and an almost bald head standing at one of the urinals halfway down the hall. There doesn’t appear to be anyone else in the room. My gun’s already out and in one of my hands, aiming straight at Paddy’s head. With my other hand, I reach behind me and flip the lock on the door.

Tbc…