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The Return of Jack Collier (Chapter Sixteen)

The Return of Jack Collier

A Jack Collier Story

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

Last week’s entry can be found here.

 

Chapter Sixteen: Stone Cold

 

            “Come on Cole,” I said pulling him up as he slowly came to.

 

            “Where is that bitch?” he asked, holding his hand to his head. “She’s gonna be fuckin’ sorry.”

 

            “Not now Cole,” I said shoving him toward the door. “You and I have some unfinished business.”

 

            “Fuck you,” he said trying to shove me, but missing my chest by sixteen inches. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you.”

 

            I grabbed his shirt collar and smacked him into the wall good and hard. There was an impression in the wall, like a pair of parentheses encoded on the wall. I reached past Cole, and yanked on the doorknob, smacking him with the door as it swung open. I shoved him outside and closed the door behind us. It was warm and there were probably bugs the size of a Volvo this far south.

 

            “Let’s go to those trees,” I suggested, pointing to my left. “Or do you want to see if anyone will come running to help a child molesting piece of shit like you?”

 

            “You’re gonna kill me.” he looked scared, which was good.

 

            “No,” I said shaking my head. “No, I’m not. I want to talk to you about a few things. When we’ve had our talk, I’ll have to decide what to do with you, but that will come later. Either way though, Cindy is coming with me.”

 

            “She’s my cousin,” he demanded.

 

            “Which is why what you’ve been doing is doubly wrong, now start walking towards the trees.”

 

            “I just fuck her in the ass,” he said, lifting his nose into the air. “I make her swallow some come sometimes, but we ain’t gonna have no mutants or nothing.”

 

            I should be ashamed of myself, I really should. Bringing the sap down directly on his nose is something I really shouldn’t have done. I also shouldn’t have kicked him in the crotch and I really shouldn’t have smacked him as hard as I could on his hip where I’d shot him three years ago, almost to the day. He fell to the ground and actually started to sob like the little bitch he was, I kicked him in the ass and looked around, but this place was clearly for people who were working like hell to not have to live in a place like this anymore.

 

            “You want me to just shoot you here?” I asked. “Get moving.”

 

            I gave his still ample rump another kick and he got up and almost ran towards the small patch of trees and brush. The area proved to be like every other patch of trees and brush that I’ve ever seen near an apartment building, complete with a circle of crates and stolen lawn furniture around an old Styrofoam cooler. Cole stumbled into the woods, and we worked our way more or less to the middle of it. There wasn’t enough to be unseen, but there was enough cover that people couldn’t see exactly what we were doing.

 

            “You know what I’ve spent the last three years doing?” I asked him as I leaned against a tree. “I spent almost two years comatose. Then I spent the last year learning how to walk and not dribble when I drink and all those fun things.”

 

            “It ain’t my fault,” he said, looking scared still.

 

            “Oh, but I could blame it on you,” I said. “All I need to do it go to a state approved psychologist and tell them that I remember you shooting me. I don’t have to say that I remember who shot me.”

 

            “The little cunt shot you,” he whined.

 

            “Call her Jill,” I said, remaining calm.

 

            “Yeah, she did it.”

 

            “Who knows that?” I asked. “Now, do we talk, or do I just call the cops and let them know I’ve found you?”

 

            “What do you want?” he asked.

 

            “What the fuck was up with you and Piper?” I asked, since it was the only way I could think to encompass all the questions. “I mean, you kidnap his kid, and he gets me to get her back, and then you’re at his house when we get there and he’s your buddy and it all seems a little pointless. Why kidnap her if he’d give her to you? Why did he want me to go get her if he was just going to hand her back to you? What the fuck?”

 

            “He got cold feet,” he said. “They’d said I could have her, and he tried to get her back, but they talked to him.”

 

            “Who talked to him?” I asked.

 

            “You know, the council.”

 

            “Which council?” I asked.

 

            “You don’t know?” he asked. “The Thinkonomics council.”

 

            “The Church of Thinkonomics said you could have a millionaire’s fourteen year old daughter as your sex slave?” I must admit I was a bit flabbergasted by the idea.

 

            “I wasn’t supposed to take her until she was sixteen,” he said, “and then I wasn’t supposed to fuck her until her eighteenth birthday. They got rules about it and shit.”

 

            “But they said you could have his daughter?”

 

            “Yeah,” he lifted his head defiantly, despite the pain it must have caused him to make any sudden movements. “That whole operation down in Banbury was one of theirs. I’d done a good job and they were rewarding me.”

 

            “And then you got it exposed,” I said.

 

            “You fuckin’ exposed it,” he said pointing a finger at me and nodding which caused him to wince in pain and grab at his nose. “You ruined everything. They found out I was fucking the cunt and cast me out. I was fuckin’ shunned because of you.”

 

            “Aww,” I said, trying to mock sympathy, “poor baby.”

 

            “Fuckin’ Piper fucked it up,” he snarled. “I would have been tops, but he fucked it all up. He got cold feet about the little cunt, and he wanted her back. Probably fuckin’ her himself. Cunt knew how to suck cock and take it up the ass when I had her.”

 

            “He still a member then?” I asked, getting more annoyed with him as he went. If I hit him again though, he’d just bitch more and it would take too long to get anything useful out of him without pliers. I had pliers, but they were in the car and it was hot and I didn’t feel like walking there and back.

 

            “How the fuck should I know?” he asked. “It ain’t like they send me fruit baskets on Columbus day or nothing. I been fuckin’ shunned because of you and that cunt.”

 

            “You know,” I said, “you really need to call her Jill.”

 

            “Fuck you,” He said, and didn’t even look at me.

 

            “No,” I said reaching behind me and grabbing the handle of the Drexel thirty-two in my hip holster. “Fuck you. You’re the one that’s fucked here.”

 

            “Shit,” he said, looking at the small revolver as if it were a snake.

 

            “You see how I’ve got medical tape around the trigger, handle and hammer? Notice how the number has been filed off?” I said indicating the salient points. “You think anyone would try to work out who shot you? You miserable piece of shit.” 

 

            “You said you weren’t gonna kill me?” Tears started to stream down his face.

 

            “And I won’t,” I broke open the revolver and dumped the six rounds into my palm, putting one back in and closing it. I then wiped down the gun where I had touched it and cycled the chamber so that the live one would be in place when the hammer was tugged back. “You’re going to top yourself.”

 

            “Fuck you!” he shouted. “Fuck you, and fuck that cunt!”

 

            I gave him a good hard clap across the head, which caused a scream to emit from him. He must have been in a lot of pain from the beating I’d given him earlier. He fell over and his right hand, already going blue from the sap, landed on a rock. I stomped on the hand to make sure he didn’t grab the rock and get any funny ideas. His hand made a whole collection of unhealthy sounds when I stomped and the screaming continued.

 

            “You’re gonna go back to jail,” I snarled at him. “You’re going to have to go back, with everyone knowing you went right back to raping little girls. We’re in Texas, and you killed people here. I hand you over in this state and they’ll give you the needle Cole. You know what that stuff is? It’s an acid. They say it turns your organs to mush. I’ve heard you can feel it burning away your veins as it travels through your blood stream. You want that?”

 

            “You’re gonna make me shoot myself,” he said, getting up halfway, staying on his knees.

 

            “I’m offering you a way out Cole,” I said, oil in my voice now. “I’m giving you the opportunity not to be forcibly buttfucked by every Mexican who heard about what was going down at Banbury Cross. I’m letting you get out this. I’d like to see you being turned into the biggest bitch in the pen until the day they fill you so full of poison it dissolves your fucking eyes. I’m your only friend left in the world Cole. I’m giving you the chance to go out like a man.”

 

            I tossed the revolver between his knees. It was more or less in the same place and pointing in the same direction that his gun had been when Jill Piper picked it up to plug me. He looked at the gun and tried to pick it up with his right hand, but I’d so mashed his hand he couldn’t get at it. He picked it up with his left hand and pointed it at his temple.

 

            “No Cole,” I told him.  “Put it in your mouth, the barrel needs to touch the roof of your mouth so it can go through properly.”

 

            “My fuckin’ suicide,” he complained.

 

            “You do it wrong, and you live, and I will pay people to ass rape you in the retard ward,” I snapped. “You fuck it up, and you’ll wish you’d taken the needle ride.”

 

            He opened his mouth, sort of hesitantly pointed the gun sort of in his mouth without putting the gun in there. I was getting disgusted with him. He should have either tried to shoot me or just up and done it by now. This dilly-dallying was pissing me off.

 

            “Look, Collier,” he sounded like he wanted to try and be reasonable, but I was done with reason, obviously.

 

            “You’re just pissing me off now Cole,” I said. “Come on, you’ve done time in Jackson as a child molester, so you’ve have bigger dicks in your mouth than this one. Suck that steel dick and let it come in your gob. You’re not getting out of this.”

 

            “Collier,” he started to cry in earnest. “I can tell you all about them. I can tell you everything.”

 

            “I found out what I wanted to know Cole,” I said. “Now get to it.”

 

            He sat there, on his knees, looking at the gun in his left hand for a good long time. He could see that there really was no way out of this and he opened his mouth and put the gun in. He then just sat there with the gun in his mouth for a while, before tugging on the hammer to cycle the round into place. He pulled the gun out and looked at me imploringly, while I stared at him. I wasn’t going to take my eyes off him for a second, I wasn’t going to let him get the impression that I was even remotely human. He put the gun against his lips again and then slid the gun further in, his teeth pressing against the cylinder of the revolver.

 

            “C’mon Cole!” I shouted finally and he pulled the trigger.

 

            The top of his head didn’t pop open, like Hewie’s had done, but that didn’t worry me. His head went out of shape, blood poured from his nose and mouth, and he fell face down on the ground. I wondered if that counted as a lie, since I’d said I wasn’t going to kill him. I had killed him, more or less. Oh sure, I’d gotten him to pull the actual trigger himself, but I did it. I just hoped that it made up for Hewie in some small way. One who should have died for one who totally shouldn’t have. I kicked at his side to roll him over, because I wanted to make sure he was dead. He was.

 

            I stood up and walked back to the apartment to get Cindy out of there.

 

 

 

October 10, 2010 Posted by | Fiction, Jack | | Leave a comment