Chapter 42 Punish
Punish
“Idon’t want any of you to have to get involved unless absolutely necessary,” I say, keeping my eyes on the ridiculous Christmas-themed house. “So why don’t you all hang back in my car while I go check out the house?”
Enough people have gotten hurt. Manny, Carlos, and Blanca need to be a last resort.
Manny nods. “Carlos, turn off the password feature on your phone and give it to Hunter so he can use it.”
Carlos follows Manny’s instructions.
“Me and Blanca are in Carlos’s texts,” Manny says. “Let us know what’s up.”
The three of them start walking back towards the car.
“Thanks, guys,” I say.
They don’t say anything back.
I hurry through the chilly night air. The closer I get to the house, the brighter everything becomes. I see how illuminated I am, how exposed. So I run to the side of the house, keeping low and hugging bushes.
From what I can tell, most of the lights inside the house are off.
I duck and move towards the back of the house. I see that the kitchen lights are on, and there are people standing inside.
I carefully move across the backyard and hide under one of the kitchen windows, which is slightly open. The aroma of food, garlic mostly, wafts into my nose.
I hear voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. So I lift my head up ever so slightly and peek inside. I see Nash, all cleaned up now and wearing new clothes, talking to a muscular man, who looks like one of the guys who took Oscar. Nash calls him Tate.
Tate: “You’re in deep shit, Nash.”
Nash: “I know. But once Nikolai is feeling better, I’ll make him understand that it wasn’t my fault.”
Tate: “Nikolai won’t see it that way. He’ll see it as, you brought these little boys into his life. And one of these little boys tried to kill him.”
Nash: “I had nothing to do with Nikolai getting stabbed. He’s got to see that. And I’m trying to make it right. I got him the guy who did stab him. If anyone should get punished, it’s not me. It’s Oscar.”
Tate: “I’m afraid it’ll be more than punishment. You know how much Nikolai hates being wronged and how much he hates physical pain. A deadly combination. Somebody is not coming out of this alive.”
Nash: “Shut up, Tate! Stop trying to rile me up!”
Tate laughs.
Nash: “Speaking of which, how is the kid?”
Tate: “Bloody. But he’ll live. For now. Until Nikolai wakes up.”
Nash: “You tied him up good, right? I can’t risk him getting away, or then I’m really screwed.”
Tate: “Hey, I’m a professional. I handcuffed him to a pipe in the basement. He’s not going anywhere.”
Tate gestures toward a door in the kitchen, one that presumably leads to the basement. I know that some houses, especially big ones like this one, have doors on the outside that also lead to the basement.
I look to my right. On the other side of the back porch are what look like two basement doors protruding from the ground. That’s my way in.
But before I can move, I hear from inside the kitchen.
Nash: “Nikolai!”
I look. Nikolai is also cleaned up, also wearing new clothes. He moves slowly, with much difficulty, into the kitchen.
Nash: “How are you feeling?”
Nikolai: “Pain killers. I need pain killers.”
Nash: “Here’s some Percocet.”
Nikolai: “Give me the whole bottle.”
Nash: “Here.”
Nikolai: “I almost died, Nash.”
Nash: “I know, Nikolai. And I did everything I could to keep you alive. And here you are. You’re alive.”
Nikolai: “You are going to wish that I died.”
Nash: “Nikolai, I’m trying to make it right. I got you the kid who stabbed you.”
Nikolai: “The kid? Who stabbed me? He’s here? Now?”
Nash: “Yes, he’s in the basement. You see? I’m trying to make it up to you. I got Tate and the others to pick him up, and now he’s here. I did good, right?”
Nikolai: “We shall see about that.”
Nash: “There’s no need to punish me for what happened to you. Punish the person who actually hurt you. Who actually almost killed you. Punish the kid.”
Nikolai: “You make a good point. Punish the kid. But understand, Nash, you are on very thin ice with me.”
Nash: “I know, Nikolai. I know. And I’m gonna make it up to you. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do.”
Nikolai: “You can start making it up to me right now.”
Nash: “Sure, sure. Whatever you want. Just tell me.”
Nikolai: “The kid.”
Nash: “The kid? What do you want? You want me to bring him to you? I’ll go get him.”
Nikolai: “No.”
Nash: “Then what?”
Nikolai: “I want you to kill him.”
Nash: “Me?”
Nikolai: “Yes.”
Nash: “Nikolai, dealing drugs for you, smuggling drugs, is one thing, but killing someone . . . I’ve never killed someone.”
Nikolai: “Well, tonight will be your first time.”
Nash: “I don’t know that I can do that.”
Nikolai: “Did you not just say that you want to make it up to me? That you will do whatever I want you to do? Or are my ears lying to me?”
Nash: “Yes, I did say that.”
Nikolai: “Well, it’s time to grow up. It’s time to be a man, yes?”
Nash: “I don’t know.”
Nikolai: “Don’t worry. Killing. It gets easier the more you do it. Like that cop who pulled us over in Riverside two weeks ago. When I shot him in the face, I felt nothing. It will feel like this someday for you too.”
Nash: “I don’t think I can do it, Nikolai.”
Nikolai: “Nash, you have a choice. You kill the kid. Or I kill you. What do you choose?”
Nikolai stares Nash down. After a while, Nash caves in and nods. Nikolai reaches into his back pocket and pulls out my bloodstained survival knife. He unfolds it so that the blade is out and ready.
Nash takes the knife by the handle. “Okay, Nikolai. I’ll do it.”
Nikolai says, “Do it slow. Make it hurt. Kill the boy.”