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Annie’s high-pitched scream ripped static in Joseph’s ears. He squeezed his eyes tight and tried not to hurt his daughter under his grasp.
She’s three, he thought. She won’t be three for long.
Annie screamed again, and Joseph lightly placed his hand over her mouth to stifle the volume. They locked eyes, and she grew quiet.
“Annie, baby, come on. Why are we crying?” he asked. Pleading was his last line of defense, well, second to last. She gripped the towel tight around her body and stomped her foot in protest. Her hair was the only thing dripping wet. A small price to pay for fairly smooth bath time.
“I don’t want you, daddy!” she yelled. Joseph’s ears crackle again. A final warning sign of oncoming deafness. He tried to push it out. “I want mommy!” she shouted. Joseph threw his hand up in defeat.
“Fine, fine. Mommy it is. But I’m going to finish drying you off and then it’s up to mommy to pick out your PJs.” Annie tore away from his grip and stepped back into the hallway.
“No! I pick out my PJs.”
“Then go pick out your PJs. Mommy’s waiting on you anyway.” Joseph pointed down the hallway. Annie tore off and Joseph was just able to hold on to the towel long enough for Annie to give up the struggle. Joseph stood up from one knee, slower this time than the time before.
As he’s folding the towel and placing it back on the bathroom rack, Joseph can faintly hear a click echo from downstairs. His head snapped towards it, straining to hear if it was real or just his brain playing tricks on him.
Something heavy rubbed against the carpet and Joseph’s stomach leapt in his throat. He crouched down, gripping the railing leading downstairs. Joseph stared into the darkness of the sitting room below him. The stink of clove cigarettes wafted up from downstairs. A sharp memory cut through him.
He moved to the top of the stairs and searched around him for something, anything. A weapon, a way to warn his wife and daughter, or something worse . He patted his pockets to find the car keys he forgot to put up on the wooden peg by the front door when he got home. Slowly, Joseph pulled the ring out a nd carefully placed each key in between each finger creating a jagged brass knuckle.
It was something a friend taught him once. They were in some random back alley.
Fred… Ted…
He couldn’t remember. But something bad was going to happen and Fred/Ted taught him the mantra: Grip tight. Hit hard. Hit fast.
His right hand grabbed the railing, and slowly, slowly he inched down the staircase. Joseph could see the dust lightly floating through the small beam of light that was cascaded from the street lamp outside. He could just make out the corner of his favorite chair and sitting in it was a slim, gray pant leg with thin white pinstripes. He gripped the keys in his left hand again but knew it would be pointless.
Joseph knew this stranger wasn’t a stranger at all. He could have called him friend at one point, almost, many years ago. But that was a life that Joseph had left behind. But here was his past sitting in his favorite chair that looked out onto his front yard. It wasn’t anything special, Joseph knew, but it was his yard. He stood up straight at the bottom of the stairs, fist clenched, and turned to face Hangman James.
“I’ve been through this neighborhood before,” Hangman James whispered. Joseph waited for him to exhale smoke, but Hangman took an apple out of his pocket.
“What the fuck are you doing here? How are you not dead?” Joseph asked. He didn’t think he could grip the keys any tighter, but by god he was going to try. He listened hard to what was going on upstairs, but his heart pounding in his ears was too distracting. If only he could scream to warn them but he knew. He knew that’d be a bad idea.
Hangman James pointed his bony finger towards the front door, the apple hanging loosely in his palm.
“You left the door open, silly.” Hangman gestured again and Joseph followed his gaze to the deadbolt. Hangman James chuckled, taking a bite of the apple. “Who does that?” he asked, shaking his head. Joseph tried to crack a smile, but his stomach distracted him wanting to shit out everything he ate that day.
“Why are you here?” Joseph asked. A few moments of silence hung in the air. He took another bite of his fucking apple.
“Yeah, I think so anyway,” Handman continued, ignoring Joseph’s question. “When I was young. One of my first jobs, I think. Maybe even my first, first job. We took out a crack house. A local drug king, maybe, or at least we were told he was. Or going to be. Anyway.“ He uncrossed his legs.
He was small potatoes, you see. That’s why I was there. I was a small-time guy, small-time crook.” Hangman James took another bite from his apple. The crunch sent electricity up Joseph’s spine.
The rush was a forgotten feeling. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to take before the pit of his stomach would lurch forward. His sense of fight or flight kicked in.
Joseph stood still, unmoving from his spot on the floor and waited for someone to tell him what to do. Fuck, he hated this feeling, and he wished to god he could warn his family. But he was merely a statue now. A trick of Hangman James he never talked about. A single captivated audience.
“So there I was. We got to the top floor, and we found that his son of a bitch had already OD. And man,” Hangman sat forward slapping his hand on his knee. Pieces of the apple fell helpless to the floor. Something Joseph knew he’d have to clean up later but Hangman James surprised him by bending down then, picked up the bites, and threw them back into his mouth. “I was so pissed, you know? I was expecting… well… I don’t know. Something like sneaking around corners, throwing rocks to create a diversion. Real Call of Duty type shit. But yeah,no. Dude was already dead. Damned needle still sticking out of his arm. Fucking idiot.”
Hangman James took another bite and motions to throw the finished apple into a random corner but thought better of it.
“I, ah…” Joseph’s words caught in his throat. Long forgotten was his homemade Wolverine claw. The keys fell hard to the wooden stairs below him. Hangman sat forward again, pulling in Joseph’s attention.
“I was fucking pissed. I prepped all day long just to find this asshole had already kissed the dirt.” He took a moment to peer out the window and Joseph couldn’t help but follow his gaze. He was towards the brink and all Joseph wanted to do was break down and cry right here in front of him.
“I shot him, Jonise,” Hangman admitted. He dropped the apple then. It fell and rolled just inches from Joseph’s feet. Its journey completely captivated him. Hangman held his head in hands, quietly weeping. Joseph squeezed his hands tight forcing out any fear that was compounding on top of him. To pull himself out of this state.
“Don’t call me Jonsie.” He took a slow breath. “Please. We are no longer work pals.” Hangman waved off the fact.
“Now, 16 years later, his daughter is out there to get me. Can you believe that? Me! Out to get me! A tale of revenge. A tale as old as time, I guess. How fucked up is that?” The best Joseph could muster was a shrug.
Hangman James slapped his knee and stood up. From his back pocket, he pulled out a small red tin, wrapped in Saran Wrap. Joseph’s eyes grew wide. Hangman placed it down on the small coffee table that stood between them.
“This comes from a man who knows that there’s a rat in my unit, no doubt about it. And I know that bitch just didn’t up and found the person who killed her daddy. Oh, no. Someone tipped her off we were there and I need to know who.”
Hangman slowly tore off the Saran wrap and flipped open the thin tin lid. His pointed figure graced the meat as it sat moist in its metal home. Joseph licked his lips.
“This asshole knew something.”
“I already told you; years ago: I’m out. That dig was the last job. I told you before. Before the day I left. And I told Harry. When he left me that night he said… he said–” Hangman placed a quiet finger over his closed lips. Together, they listened to the sudden shouts of laughter from his wife and Annie. Hangman James’s hand moved from his lips to point to the floor upstairs.
“I’ve done kids before,” he whispers. “I did not like it. Don’t make me do it again.” A door slammed and Annie shrieked out a high-pitched squeal.
God, how much more could he take?
Joseph stared at the raw human meat that sat neatly in the tin.
He thought he was out. But just at the sight of it… Joseph didn’t know anymore. He told him he was out. He told Harry he was out. But he could almost…
Hangman’s hold loosened, and Joseph stepped forward hovering over the dish. That old familiar feeling returned then without announcement. Joseph clutched his stomach as it contorted. His insides turned to the outside and his outsides flipped on his insides. The acid in his stomach boiled to a degree that forced itself up his throat and spat out onto the human meat.
Dark green bile dropped hard onto the dish. Joseph breathed deep in the stench he’d known since he was a boy. A warm blanket. An aroma he will never forget.
The acid immediately dissolved the meat. Joseph’s hand shot down and grabbed it, throwing it into his mouth. His teeth crunch rhythmically while his tongue soaked in the blood. Joseph cleared his mind and allowed whatever was coming to him to come. Fully opened himself up.
Invisible, icy fingers moved up his neck. The small hairs stood on end and he felt a surge of electricity race through his fingers. He chewed once more and swallowed the last remaining pieces. As it cascaded down his throat, Joseph can feel a series of images, feelings almost, coarse through him.
The meat was human, alright; male. He tasted hints of cheap whiskey, stale cigarette smoke, and leather. There was something else.
A light. Bright at first but dulled quickly. Then, Joseph felt sharp sticks to his stomach and around to his back.
The meat was old, maybe two to three weeks. Joseph gripped the side of the table to balance himself as he swallowed back one last time staring at Hangman James. A voice called from upstairs.
“Honey, you okay?” his wife called down. The two caught each other’s gaze. Hangman raised his finger to his perched lips. A long moment of silence hung between them. A place that Joseph remembered finding himself in before. Never made it any easier.
“Yes, honey. I don’t think that spaghetti is sitting well,” he answered.
“Well, you bought it at a gas station, so that’s sort of on you.” Joseph rolled his eyes.
“I don’t have anything,” Joseph whispered. Now it was Hangman’s turn to roll his eyes.
“You always say that.”
“Babe?” his wife called again. Hangman and Joseph shared a glance.
“Say goodnight,” he whispered. Joseph wished he hadn’t eaten the meat. He wished he didn’t have to stand in front of this man.
“Goodnight,” Joseph said at last. There was a shuffle of feet on the carpet and then the sound of the bedroom door opening.
“Goodnight,” she said before closing the door quietly. Hangman shook his head in disappointment.
“No, no, I mean it this time,” Joseph urged, hoping that their voices didn’t carry. He took a step toward him. “I know what you think. But I’m out of shape. This could be anything. I’m not seeing anything clear.”
“Tell me what you did see.” Joseph searched his memory.
“I don’t know. Um, there was a light. A bright light, but it’s gone now, but not in the sense that it’s left. Like maybe, someone just turned it out. And I taste whiskey. And leather. Hangman is on the edge of his seat. This was his favorite part, Joseph remembered. Hangman loved to hear the story. To get all the pieces and place them in a neat order that created the whole thing. He was a builder.
“Go on,” Hangman ushered.
“That’s it. That’s it,” Joseph said with a pang of sadness. Hangman sat back. “Like I said. I’m done. I’m out.”
There was a piece of meat between his head that slipped down his throat. The moment it hit his stomach, another image flashed in his mind’s eye. This one was fuzzy at first, but something deep in Joseph’s memory pulled hard to bring it into focus. It was a closeup: a crooked smile. One that he’d seen a million times. Heat wicked in the depths of his stomach forcing its way up.
“You asshole. What did you do to my brother?” The crooked smile was in every family photo he’d ever seen. His older brother Dale did his best to look after young Joseph but he fell into drugs and alcohol. One time he lost a job because he refused to take off his cowboy boots. No matter how many times Joseph would drop him off at rehab, he always waved and shined his crooked smile.
Joseph took a step forward. The pain in his gut almost brought him down, but he’s able to grab Hangman’s coat. “Answer me! What the fuck did you do to my brother?” Hangman James’s hands grabbed Joseph’s, almost squeezing the life out of his.
“That’s why I’m here,” he said slowly, given each word more weight than the previous. Joseph jerked back, breaking Hangman’s grasp.
“Damn it, I already told you. Again! I’m out. I’m out of the P.I. game,” Joseph explained but Hangman stood up; excited.
“No, I don’t need you to find someone. I need you to dig them up.”
