Pay Up and Die (20 page)

Michael tore the remaining duct tape off his wrists and let the pieces fall to the cement floor. He readied himself for the fight of his life. He knew it was time to fight or die.

Chapter 45

Derrick slowly got to his feet. He was spent. It had been a long day and an even longer night so far. His legs were rubbery and his hands were beyond sore. Derrick wiped the blood away from his eyes, which continued to flow from the cuts on his forehead. He turned to Michael but was shocked at what he found.

The spot on the gazebo floor where Michael lay was empty. All that remained were some tattered pieces of duct tape.

Derrick was in a panic. He didn’t think the night could get any worse. Yet here he was with two dead bodies and a missing witness. He combed the grounds adjacent to the gazebo but didn’t find Michael. He decided to head back to the truck to see if Michael was attempting to escape.

As he walked out of the gazebo, Derrick heard a gravelly, scraping noise behind him. He spun to see what the sound could be when he was struck hard in the chest by Michael, who dove from behind a large shrub. Both men tumbled to the grass with Derrick bearing the brunt of the fall. They lie dazed in the grass for a few seconds, neither man moving.

Michael crawled over to Derrick and tried to mount him like a wrestler. Derrick reacted just quickly enough to get his back turned. Michael took the opportunity to choke Derrick from behind. But Derrick kept his chin pinned to his chest, just enough that Michael’s clutch couldn’t get tighter. Derrick reached behind to try to gouge Michael’s eyes but he turned his head toward the ground to protect his face. Derrick threw a balled fist backwards into Michael’s groin. The choke hold instantly released.

Derrick rolled over and pounced on the defenseless man. He threw several punches to Michael’s head before he was kicked off. As he stumbled backwards, Michael scrambled to his feet. They squared off, several feet apart.

“You killed my son.”

“You killed my wife.”

“It went too far, Derrick. Your ego got the better of you and now people are dead.”

“Ego had nothing to do with it, Michael. I wanted to give my family the best in life and that requires difficult choices. But you wouldn’t know about difficult choices. You just piss money away and then expect everyone to bail you out. How do you think that is going to work out for Allison?”

Michael rushed at Derrick and threw several punches. Most of them missed the mark. They circled each other, trading blows and grappling for control. Derrick caught Michael with a jab to his jaw. Michael crumpled to the ground in a fog. Derrick stood over him.

“You know what I despise the most about you, Michael? I despise that you didn’t do everything in your power to provide for your family. You did the bare minimum. Not me. I do whatever it takes to provide for my wife and kids.”

Michael gained his wits and kicked upwards into Derrick’s groin. Derrick flopped to the grass in agony. Both men, completely spent, lying in the dew-covered grass. Michael blinked his eyes up at the night sky, the stars providing a delicate canopy above. Derrick cursed into the earth as he rolled back and forth.

Michael got wearily to his feet and approached Derrick. Without saying a word, he kicked Derrick in the side of the head, returning the favor from earlier. Derrick stopped rolling. Michael rested on his knees, hunched over, gasping for air. He tried to drag Derrick back to the gazebo but his body couldn’t comply. So he limped over to the toolbox to look for the knife or some other weapon to kill Derrick.

As he went through the box, he cried to himself. The nightmare seemed to creep in whenever he had a brief moment to think. He knew life would never be the same. But he was committed to going all the way now. His life was a complete tragedy so he might as well get his money’s worth and kill the man responsible for all his pain. He found a hacksaw and decided he would cut off Derrick’s hands like they had done to Andrew.

Michael staggered back to Derrick, who still appeared to be out cold. He plopped down to his knees alongside Derrick. Michael stretched out his right arm, holding it down at the elbow with his left hand while sawing with his right hand. As soon as the sharp teeth bit into Derrick’s flesh, he awoke with a scream and fought to pull his arm away. Michael used all his weight to hold Derrick’s arm so he was halfway through the wrist bones before Derrick wrestled himself free. Blood dripped from the saw and Michael swung it at Derrick as he backed away.

Derrick moaned as he clutched his mangled appendage against his chest. He kept backing away and circling to avoid Michael’s swings. Derrick maneuvered back toward the gazebo, putting more distance between him and Michael. As he took another step backwards, he tripped over one of the small shrubs and landed with a resounding thump. Michael took advantage of the misstep and dove upon Derrick with the saw raised above his head. He let out a primal scream as he tried to saw at Derrick’s flailing arms. The blade bit into Derrick’s forearms several times, his gnarled hand flapping at monstrous angles as he attempted to fend off the attack.

Michael lunged at Derrick’s face but the saw missed. It sprung loose from his hands when the nose punched the ground. He reached for it but it was just out of range. Derrick wrapped his severed arm around Michael’s neck and pulled his head down. He bit into Michael’s scalp, gnashing skin and hair while blood flooded his mouth. Michael screamed and smashed his head forward. It knocked Derrick’s teeth free and crushed his nose. Derrick dropped limp against the grass and mulch. Michael sat up clutching his head, feeling a patch of hair and skin missing. His hands were wet with a new flow of blood.

He rolled off Derrick and sank to the ground. The smell of blood hung in the crisp night air like a fog. Michael stood and grabbed Derrick’s feet. He dragged Derrick to the water’s edge, spinning his body around so that the top of his head sat on the cusp of the pond. Michael worked to roll Derrick over onto his stomach. He climbed on Derrick’s back and gasped desperately for more oxygen. His lungs burned, straining to recover from the physicality of the battle. Then he dunked Derrick’s head into the pond and leaned all his weight forward. After a few seconds, Derrick’s body responded in a last ditch effort for survival. His arms reached and pushed to lift his head from the water. Both legs kicked up and down in a sympathetic display of rebellion. Michael applied more pressure to Derrick’s head, sinking it further below the shallow surface. Bubbles popped all around as the remaining pockets of oxygen escaped the dying man.

The struggle continued for over a minute before the bubbles ceased and the body succumbed to the drowned lungs. Michael collapsed atop the lifeless body and broke down. His tears were hot and mixed with soil and blood, stinging his eyes. He felt his own body give in to the exhaustion and he no longer fought it. Michael dropped to the small shoreline, his feet landing in the water, and his head slumped down to the earth. The crying lasted for several minutes. Then he had no more fluids left to lose. He sat up and unsuccessfully wiped his face to clean it.

Michael collected what little sanity he had left and prepared himself for the most difficult job ahead. He had to take his son down and bring him home where he belonged. Michael felt strongly that he needed Andrew to cross the threshold, if nothing else, to symbolically know that he brought his son home. He walked slowly up the small incline to the gazebo. The toolbox sat alone, its lid tilted back like a darkened maw. Michael knelt down and fished out a pair of pliers. And then he went to work, releasing his son from his prison. One nail at a time.

Chapter 46

The next morning, Michael awoke in a sterile, pale room. A monitor to his left kept tabs on his heart rate and blood pressure. Above the monitor was an IV drip with a clear hose that snaked down to his forearm. A large gauze bandage covered his scalp where a chunk of meat was torn away.

Michael blinked a few times to clear his vision. The sounds of nurses hustling by echoed from the hallway. Somewhere a loudspeaker paged a doctor to pick up extension two-fifteen. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the noise. Each sound registered a mid-level earthquake on his mammoth headache. He tried to shut everything out, hoping it was all just a dream. But he knew better. Michael dozed back to sleep.

****

“It’s a miracle you’re still alive.” The doctor put his chart down and moved to the side of the bed. “Usually when someone loses that much blood, they expire in a slow, comatose manner. But you had the wherewithal to not only save yourself but to also take care of your son. Quite heroic.”

The doctor looked down at his shoes and waited for Michael to respond. Michael stared at the ceiling, reliving the image of Andrew hanging above.

“We did all we could but...” The doctor trailed off. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.” His eyes moved up to Michael’s face and then back down to his shoes.

A hot tear trickled from Michael’s left eye. It burned all the way down his face to the pillow. He never took his eyes off the ceiling tiles above. Michael could see Andrew with or without his eyes open.

“Well, I’ll let you get some more rest. Everything appears stable now. But your body has a long recovery ahead. Two concussions, a badly broken nose, a cracked vertebra, a fractured orbital socket, massive loss of blood and bruised internal organs won’t heal overnight. So you just focus on getting better.”

The doctor rested his hand gently on Michael’s arm. He told Michael he would check in on him again tomorrow and then left the room.

Michael tried to sleep. But he couldn’t stop replaying the horror in his mind.

****

A nurse opened his door and said that someone was here to see him. She stepped aside and Stephanie walked in. The nurse closed the door behind her. Stephanie stared at Michael with tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked like she hadn’t slept or stopped crying. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her clothes looked lived in. Stephanie’s hair was pulled back, but some wisps had come loose.

Michael began crying too. He hadn’t seen Stephanie since he left the house with Murph. It seemed an eternity had passed since that moment. He tried to minimize the sobbing but his heart wouldn’t allow him any control. He broke down and lost sight of Stephanie in the blur of tears.

Stephanie approached the bed slowly. She appeared to be taking inventory of all the tubes and machines linked to his beaten body. Michael figured he was unrecognizable with all the bandages and swelling. He barely croaked out a “Steph,” as she neared him. His fingers reached up to take her hand. She placed her hand in his and squeezed tightly and then relaxed.

Michael opened his eyes wider, blinking the tears away. He saw that Stephanie was crying too, one hand holding his, while the other hugged herself for comfort. She looked into his eyes and he saw her pupils move from side to side as she looked over his injured face. She removed her hand from his and placed it along his left cheek, gently caressing him. Michael closed his eyes at her touch.

Then Stephanie smacked him. Hard. The reverberation of the impact climbing up his skull and back down to his face. A loud slap echoed in the sterile room. Michael stopped crying and stared at Stephanie in shock. She stared back with anger in her eyes. He knew she blamed him for this. Their only son was dead. Gone. And it was his fault. She let him know through her gesture.

Stephanie stopped crying and wiped her eyes with a tissue that was stuffed in her sweater sleeve. She placed her hand back in Michael’s. She looked into his eyes but that momentary hatred had dissipated. Stephanie leaned forward and kissed his bandaged forehead. She rested her head on his chest while he cried himself to sleep.

Chapter 47

The gray sky accentuated the somber mood at the cemetery. Colorful flowers adorned the medium-sized casket. Friends and family sniffled behind dark sunglasses. The pastor recited the 23rd Psalm which elicited more crying.

Michael stood, stoic, between Stephanie and Allison. They held hands as the prayers continued. Stephanie wept silently but Michael felt her tremble at his side. Allison had not cried too much yet. She still didn’t understand the finality of her brother’s passing. They knew the healing process would take years.

Michael tried to control his own sorrow. He thought he had cried a thousand times since Andrew died, but he had at least a thousand more times to go. He adjusted his sunglasses and flicked a tear from his cheek. His thoughts shifted to Andrew and he prayed that Andrew would forgive him for what had happened. He wished that he could be reunited with his son soon because life had less purpose for him now.

Stephanie had already forgiven Michael. He gave her plenty of space to grieve and lash out at him. Stephanie went through several phases in her grieving process. First, she took out her anger on Michael by screaming at him and breaking some of his most valued possessions. She screamed that she wanted him to know what it felt like to lose something he loved, even though she knew he loved Andrew as much as she did. Then she changed to silent indifference, ignoring Michael except when she had to speak to him about general things like meals or the funeral plans. Finally, she resorted to a subtle loathing, an almost passive-aggressive stance toward Michael. He accepted whatever she gave him as penance for his responsibility. He hoped that someday Stephanie would come back to him fully. For now, he would have to wait patiently.

Michael looked over at Stephanie. She stared straight down at the casket without acknowledging his glance. He shifted his attention to Allison who was twirling her dress hem around the hand that wasn’t attached to him. She seemed to be in her own little world, oblivious to the misery surrounding her. Michael was grateful for her self-involvement.