Bernie heard the sounds in the darkness off to his left before he saw the killers. Mickey and Aaron were stalking him like a wild animal. Sweat dripped down his face, blurring his vision and burning his eyes. He dared not wipe it away.
The glare from their flashlights bounced off the walls, methodically searching for their prey. Bernie was sure he looked like a deer frozen in deadly headlights. He leaned into the cartons that hid him from the pair, trying to make his short body as invisible as possible as the goons walked past his hiding spot.
"Come on out Bernie, there's no way you are going to escape, you know," Mickey's whiny voice echoed in the large warehouse.
Aaron stopped almost even to where Bernie was hidden and turned his head as if he could hunt Bernie down through echoes. Bernie became as still as a statue. He held his breath, afraid Aaron would hear his ragged breathing.
Minutes--to Bernie they felt like hours--trickled by. Finally, Aaron moved forward. Bernie quietly exhaled and prayed once again to whomever it was watching over him to save his butt. He'd be good. He'd stop gambling, drinking and cheating on his wife. If only he'd get out of there alive.
Bernie's small eyes carefully looked over the piles of boxes stored in the marina warehouse. Rotten fish smells intermingled with the salt of the Atlantic Ocean. It was dark and quiet and Bernie knew if his rotten luck didn't change he wasn't going to live to see another sunrise over New York City.
"Bernie, you know I how I hate to do this, but you brought it on yourself." Aaron's deep voice still had tinges of Irish brogue behind it.
"You stupid fegger. Didn't you think that Little Moe would find out you stole his money?"
Bernie heard them yell more obscenities as they moved farther down the warehouse walkway. Bernie was starting to piss them off by not showing himself so they could get their job done and be on their way. They had things to do and places to go.
Bernie stole the money. He wouldn't deny it. The money had been there for the taking. Little Moe had tons of money. Bernie had figured he wouldn't miss measly $75,000. He was wrong.
"You shouldn't have stolen from one of your own, Bernie. It was really stupid. Little Moe is very unhappy. He trusted you. He loved you like a son. And you went and betrayed him. Very, very stupid," Aaron said.
Bernie heard a gun go off and he felt as if his heart left his body. A warm sensation slipped down his leg and he realized he had wet his pants. He slowly slid down to the cold cement floor and closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his knees and hugged them tightly, not saying a word.
"Did you get him?" Mickey asked hopefully. He had a hot date planned for the next day and he wanted to go home and get some rest.
Girls always went gaga for his looks. His red hair, blue eyes and big muscles made girls swoon. Then they got a taste of his hot temper. Most of his dates rarely went past the third meeting. But Mickey didn't care. There was a ready supply of unsuspecting women willing to date him.
"Shit, no. Must have been a rat or something," Aaron said, looking around the darkness. Where Mickey was bulky, Aaron was skinny. Many men had underestimated his strength and died because of it. Aaron boasted slim muscles that were mean and tight. That summed up Aaron's personality, too. Aaron was totally fearless. He had no relatives except his adopted uncle, Little Moe, to whom he was completely devoted.
Aaron silently motioned for Mickey to move over to the far walls of the warehouse and move back the way they just came.
"Bernie, come on out. Let's talk about it, you know. Maybe we can go back and talk to Little Moe and you can give him back his money and things will be okay."
Bernie held his head in his hands. Still squatting behind the cartons. He felt dizzy, sick and tired. He had a blind hope that maybe things could be worked out. Maybe Little Moe would forgive him and he could go on with his life.
"Bernie, listen. I'll make you a deal. You come out now and we will go straight to Little Moe. You can tell him your story and get him to change his mind."
Aaron and Mickey were closing back in on Bernie. He could hear their voices move toward him. He had no choice. He knew they were going to find him.
The room was becoming brighter as the sun came up over the bay. Bernie could discern more around him as boxes became visible. He read the words on the cartons. "This Way Down." Bernie had to stifle a crazy laugh. Those three words summed up his life at this point. This way down. Down to misery. Down to fear. Down to death.
He decided to take a chance and let the goons take him to Little Moe. Maybe he could talk his way out of this. He'd been in tight spots before and pulled his way out. Why not now?
"This is your last chance, Bernie. Come on out now and we won't hurt you."
Bernie stood up, pulled his shoulders back and stepped out into the walkway.
"Don't shoot. I'm coming out. You promised you wouldn't hurt me. I can explain everything, you know," Bernie said, walking into the open. He stood embarrassed and scared at the same time. An obvious stain was spread out in the crotch of his dirty gray pants.
"He lied," Mickey said, taking aim at Bernie and shooting him straight-on between the eyes. Bernie fell instantly upon the cold, hard floor.
"We've got to work on this lying of yours Aaron, me boy. It's not a very good personality trait, you know," Mickey said, stepping over Bernie's sprawled form and walking side-by-side with Aaron to the warehouse front door.
"I know, Mickey. It'll be the death of me yet," Aaron said, slamming the metal door shut behind him.
The sun rose quietly over the dark water. Mickey and Aaron climbed into their Cadillac, oblivious to the beautiful sunrise that was filling the sky.
© Robin Bailey
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