Outlaw - Part One

I had been looking for Death my whole life.

I was so happy when I found Her, that I lost my mind.

***

I done fucked up now. Big time.

You see, you can’t keep making promises to a girl like this one and not keep any of them. Even if we’re talking about taking her to see the new Clint Eastwood movie, or having dinner at the new French bistro she's been going on and on about for weeks – heck, even about something as simple and childish as grabbing an ice-cream after her shift ends.

I mean, this gal is not the fairest you could find and you are definitely not the first or second choice that she has. Hell, she can and she will have anything and anyone she wants, but for the time being, her mind and – let’s hope against it, but I think it’s pretty much hopeless right now – her heart are both set on you. And she will have you, even if for one moment. She will write you off and throw you away in the next, much like she’d do a used tissue.

But that’s how the girls from her league are. It probably has something to do with being an only child – mommy and daddy always away, so she settles for any other unreachable thing that she can get her hands on. Packing more guts than a bull-fighter from Pamplona and walking on heels bigger than your cock is, she will stroll into your life and take you away by the collar of your brand new shirt. A hazy curtain of smoke will be the only thing left of you – you won’t even have time to put out your cigarette.

She will show up one perfect summer night, when you’re out at your favorite bar, sitting alone at your favorite booth, one Lucky Strike hanging lazily from your upper lip. You will see her through the window, walking up to the door and letting herself in, but you won’t even come close to considering she is there for you. No, she is the last person on your mind, yet she will come right to your table and, without asking if you’re busy or waiting for someone or whatnot, she will just sit down. She will make room for herself in your life, enough that she will become the very air that you breathe. That’s what Death does.

Ultimately, Death is like sports betting – or betting on anything in general, for that matter. Sure, you get your fair share of wins and profits, but in the end, it is The House that takes it all.

***

It’s dark and Hell is hot. I can feel it burning my soles as I take these last steps. The cold muzzle of the revolver pressing against the back of my head keeps me connected to life like a machine helping my heart pump blood through my body. Once it disconnects, it will be over for me.

I can see it in the back of my mind. This punk whose name I have heard before but didn’t bother to remember will stop his march, letting me go on a bit more. His name doesn't matter; I saw the look on his face. He won’t let me know when it’s coming; he won’t take that chance. There will be no speeches. Looking at him was like looking in the mirror. I never showed mercy to the ones that wronged me and The Angel of Death won’t show any to me. They say that everybody has a guarding angel, but I’m thinking… maybe he is not there to watch over you, but to simply watch you. To see how you go about your life and how you deserve to go out.

I’ve come close to dying before. It has happened enough times for me to lose track of things and stop being careful. You’d think that going through this sort of situation – or any sort of repeated situation, for that matter – enough times, it would prepare you for whenever it’s bound to happen again. Not with me, though. But I have learned one thing: this will be it. I’ve been in shootouts at noon in Grand Central, where a thousand witnesses could’ve identified my potential killer. I didn’t die. I’ve been hanging from the ledge of the twentieth balcony of the Empire State building, where ten thousand people would’ve found the remains of my body, plastered on the sidewalk. I didn’t die then either. But this? This will be it.

The cold wind rattling my coat will carry the smell of death across and wake up coyotes from their sleep. Ravens and crows will follow the stench of murder and come in a hurry, flying in circles above. They will wait and watch the predators feast on my body, and when the party is over, they will come down here and fill their stomachs with the rests. In the end, it will be them, the maggots and my bones. Here, in the middle of nowhere. Right across the place where Death lost her virginity. Where nobody can ever find me.

And what about you, bub? Where will be your –

***

It was a quiet night. I had started the evening with a club soda, having all the intentions to see it off sober. A potential client was supposed to meet me around dinner time; some bored Hollywood housewife worried that her husband was doing wrong by her. Hours passed and took away my patience, leaving behind an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Can’t nobody tell me squat, I’m a social drinker. And what exactly is a date, if not a social event?

The clock had just sounded eleven hours of the night when the last customer walked out of the bar. It was a bit of a relief, to tell you the truth, since I was getting really tired of Marv’s old war stories. He had left me to myself for the time being and went off to do some sweeping.

The place looked pathetic. Ten empty tables, around half of them still holding the dust from the night before. What other bar runs out of alcoholics before midnight? I had trouble figuring out if this was a sinking ship and Marv was the captain willing to go down with it, or if the bar had developed a personality over the years. “The Last of a Dying Breed”. Maybe the joint was trying to live up to its name – be the last piece of an era that nobody ever thought about anymore.

Philosophy always gave me stomach problems, so I was on my way to the bathroom when I heard the front door bell ringing. I turned halfway around out of pure curiosity, and there she was. The woman I had been thinking about all along. The one that had seduced me into joining the task force and also the one that had whispered to me on so many occasions to put a bullet through my skull. I had seen her in all the women I had had since I was a pup. This time, it could be no mistake. She had finally come for me and I was ready to go.

She walked in like she owned the joint. I tried to see it all through her eyes: marble floors and golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. She must’ve had one helluva imagination; “The Last” was more of a tavern from the Wild West than it was a classy place. Marv asked her something and I knew in an instant I had downed one drink too many: I didn’t get a word from what they exchanged. He pointed his thumb at me and then went back to his business. She started towards me and I swear to God Almighty that everything slowed down.

A faint wind coming from a window forgotten open softly caressed her hair in a way that only a lover could. It was blonde and curly and it fell over her shoulders. She licked at the red lipstick in one quick, involuntary motion and opened her mouth as if to talk. She blinked once and that was the start of the hurricane which I knew would eventually rock my boat so hard that it would send me overboard. To drift forever on an endless sea and wish to drown and lose my life, if only that meant seeing her again.

“Mister… Oliver Theodore Law?”

Her voice was not more than a whisper.

“Please, call me Ulysses. My mother gave me this name and I’ve loved hearing it ever since.”