My Journey in Writing, Ranting, and Woodworking

The traffic was bad enough that he was stopped on the Brooklyn Bridge.  He had the window down, despite it being winter and 15 degrees out.  He was burning.  Burning with rage, mad at himself, disgusted that he hadn’t considered the ramification of disappearing.  Since the office was burned up and his ribs were bruised by Tommy’s boys, he had been available to no one.   Luna was safely tucked away in his secret house and he had made sure not to contact any of his pals, except Mike.

He thought about Mike, though he didn’t want to.  He wanted to think about something else.   “The sky is an inky blue.”  Henry thought to himself.  “No, no it isn’t.  It isn’t inky blue at all.  It is bruised and battered blue and purple and black.”  Everything he looked at reminded him of Mike.  Henry had been calling into the precinct daily and updating Mike about the case.  They had decided not to get the journal until the mystery about the code had been worked out.

The newspapers were now writing and speculating, about where Mr. Alexander was, how he was connected to Tommy ‘The Knife’, and if Tommy was losing a grip on his organization.  A rival family was smelling blood and decided to try spill a bit of Tommy’s.  An attempt had been made on Tommy’s life, but he had escaped unharmed, though 5 of his boys had not been so lucky.  Tommy had immediately retaliated, and a pizza parlor, 12 guests, three of whom were rival thugs, had paid the price.  The Mayor wanted answers, the Police Chief worried that there was more to come, and the criminal element in the Big Apple was working overtime to find Henry, Mr. Alexander and the now infamous journal.

Henry knew that hiding Luna was a good idea.  He thought that hiding himself seemed reasonable too.  What he hadn’t counted on was the brutal message that Tommy would deliver through Mike.  Sometime late last night, a handful of guys grabbed Mike as he was getting home from working the night shift.  They beat him with bats and left him on the front step of his place, 2 hours later.  He was barely alive.  He couldn’t even make it up the stairs, this giant of a man; just lay there bleeding and broken.

Sally Mae is 11 years old.  She is the small for her age.  She lives next door to Big Mike and adopted him the day he stopped the neighborhood kids from teasing her.  From that moment on, if Mike was out on a Saturday, walking to the market, or talking with the neighbors, Sally Mae would be close by, asking him questions and generally worshiping him.  Sally Mae didn’t know her father, like so many fathers, he had perished on Omaha beach.

When Sally Mae saw Mike she let out a cry that stopped the neighborhood.  Though the ambulance drivers wouldn’t let her ride to the hospital with him, nobody had the heart to say she couldn’t go with the police officers who were following behind.  She sat in the back of the car and sobbed the entire way.  It was the most heart breaking thing either of the officers had ever heard.  They could tell she was trying not to, but just couldn’t stop herself.  When they arrived at the hospital she sat in the waiting room, head down, weeping into her hands, she didn’t stop until they wheeled Mike out of surgery and into his room.  Her mother, the nurses, and even the Police Chief had all tried to make her feel better, but she just sobbed.

Henry had arrived just as Mike was being wheeled into the room guarded by two officers.  He saw Sally Mae run to the door, stop take a deep breath, wipe the tears out of her eyes and put a smile on her face.  She was being brave for Mike.  Neither officer made a move to stop her; they just watched as she went in and gently placed her hand on Mikes.  In a tiny voice, without so much as a tremble, she said, “I will take care of you.  It is going to be all right.”  Mike did not hear her, he wasn’t conscious yet.  Henry thought it was a small blessing, as he was sure that Mike would have felt more pain at seeing Sally’s little face, than he ever felt from the beating.

The traffic picked up slightly and Henry eased the car forward.  He thought about Mike, though he didn’t want to.  He thought about little Sally Mae, and her brave face.  He thought about the words that Mike had struggled so mightily to get out.  “You were right.  Important…don’t stop now.”  Henry assumed he was referring to there being someone in the department who was on the take.  He didn’t know who, and Mike had succumbed to the pain killers before Henry could ask.  He didn’t think that Mike was in any further danger, as Tommy had been trying to send a message, which he had done.

Night was in full swing, the traffic was moving along nicely, and the lights of the city cast a dim orange glow across the sky.  Henry was relieved to find Luna was safe and sound.  He filled her in on the day and they sat and talked, and didn’t talk, and then mostly they just sat.  Just before bed Henry went downstairs and checked the closet.  It was filled with goodies.  He laid them out on his bench and looked at them.  It must be a clue.  He was too tired to figure it out though, so he flipped off the light switch and went upstairs to bed.