Vintage



  Jake Tony

  Vintage

  (A compilation of short stories by the author)

  HE CAME TO MEET HIS DEATH

  The Newspaperman story

  I

  The taxi cruised down the streets. The town looked worn out and dilapidated, as though it would collapse at any time. The inhabitants of the town stared at the taxi, as though it were something interesting. A few even stopped walking to get a good look.

  "Jake owns this town, and he rules it tight. Nothing ever happens here without him knowing, with his mob all over the place." the driver said, briefly looking back at his strange looking passenger.

  The passenger, for a moment allowed his eyes to stray to the driver. He nodded, shrugged and then went back to looking out the window. Some man, the driver thought, pouting his mouth and humming lightly, in a barely audible manner.

  "So what's your name?" The driver asked.

  "Ken".

  So much for an answer, the driver thought again as he raised his head to look at the man sitting behind him through the mirror. He was wearing some faded looking jeans with a crumpled shirt and had an athletic build. He carried a small rucksack which he kept on his lap. For someone coming to these parts, he was quiet, very quiet.

  Suddenly, Ken sprang forward looking through the windshield, at front of the car, the driver also slowing down. Just ahead of them, beside the street was a though, dirty and evil-looking mob standing in a semi-circle. They held clubs and knives and had two men (tied) lying on the ground. A kid stepped out from the mob and approached one of the men on the ground. The one being approached shrieked with fear and tried to move away. As the kid got to him, Ken noticed the kid was holding a large butcher knife. He immediately felt sick. A little distance away from the mob, Ken noticed a man dressed in a black coat, sitting on a bench and smoking a cigarette, with a pistol some distance away on the bench.

  With dexterity, the kid raised and slashed the knife across the man's face, cutting through his nose. A loud murmur spread through the mob and a few passers-by stopped to watch. The man let out a blood curling scream and squirmed violently on the ground, as blood freely flooded wherever his face touched. The kid raised the knife again and slashed from behind cutting across t his nape. A dirty-looking little girl, who had been watching, went on her knees and began to throwing up into the gutter beside her, crying. The man got up and began running aimlessly, his once tied hands covering his bleeding face. The mob suddenly went excited as two others went after him and clubbed him several times, till he lay still.

  The kid then turned to the second man.

  "I beg you in God's name. Don't do this to me.", He was shaking. The kid smirked evilly as he drew up closer.

  "For God's sake, they've killed him!" Ken almost screamed at the driver.

  "Yeah, that's Jake's mob. They do what they like. Look, there are no rules here. Jake owns-”

  "Be quiet!” Ken said, searching inside his rucksack.

  The driver turned around quickly.

  "Mister please do not do anything foolish. They will not spare you! You will die!"

  Ignoring him, Ken opened the door and got out. The driver also got out. He had turned completely white, his mouth hanging open.

  "Mister, get back into the car and let's go. This is none of your business..."

  Ignoring him, Ken stepped towards the mob.

  "Hey!” The mob turned to him, surprised, completely surprised.

  The havoc causing kid moved out to face him. He was still holding the blood stained knife. Blood covered his shirt.

  "Do you want any trouble traveller?" The kid asked.

  "What do you think you are doing?" Ken asked.

  "Get back into your car and I don't want to see you again!” The kid retorted as he turned to go back.

  "How about I give you some trouble?”

  An evil gleam appeared in the Kid's eyes and he turned to face Ken, clutching the knife even tighter.

  "He wants some trouble", He said to his peers, who laughed, “we will give him some". He clicked his fingers.

  Two from the mob, armed with clubs, approached Ken. Then, it happened. They suddenly stopped, their clubs falling out of their hands. Each gripping his arm with the other hand they turning and began running and screaming as blood flowed from their arms. The rest watched with horror, as the two ran with two knives each sticking out of their arms

  “He throws a knife! Run!" The mob scattered wildly, confused. They had dispersed only to regroup again up on the street. Then they began rushing towards Ken and the taxi.

  "Hey let's go," the driver, pale as ever, tugged on ken's sleeve. With no ignoring this time, Ken followed and hopped into the taxi."You threw a knife at 'em, jeez!"

  Ken could feel his heart beating loudly. He looked back the kids were running toward the car, some flinging their clubs at the taxi. The big-shot kid was shouting orders, the street turning into a battle field. They were getting reinforcements.

  "You throw a knife! I should have known! I should have known! Now you’ve started something which I doubt you can finish."

  Ken shrugged as the taxi zoomed away, dismissing the driver’s words. Whatever, he said to himself his thoughts.

  "Follow 'em. Get all of 'em in that car. I want to skin them alive! ", the Kid screamed bitterly.

  "Stop that all of you!" A voice brought back sanity. It was the man dressed in the black coat with the pistol.

  "Go away! All of you and do nothing. You hear? Do nothing ."

  The mob, clearly dissatisfies but willing to obey, dismissed reluctantly.

  Throwing away the last stump of cigarette, He went up the street to a telephone booth, went it and closed the door. Rubbing his hands together, he took off the receiver, dialled and held the receiver to his ear as the call went through.

 

  * * *

  The taxi slowed down as it got to the outskirts of another town.

  "Okay. This is how far I can bring you. Just go straight ahead and you'll find the town."

  Ken got down and went over to the driver's side. Pulling out his wallet, He began counting some notes.

  "It's okay. There's no need for that. Have a nice stay in town"

  With that, the taxi turned and went back the way it just came.

  Standing alone, shocked and left with no other option, ken slung his rucksack across his shoulders and began trekking up the road, as the evening sun went down, making the evening sky and horizon orange.

  He made the picture of a wary traveller with nowhere to lay his head.

  II

  Ken looked around him. This town looked far better than the previous one and the people here looked less hostile, yet it was more notorious. Neon lights lit up the streets as everyone hurried back home. The cars here looked better; the houses were more erect and looked modest. As he went up the street, he saw a group of tough-looking men sitting and smoking in silence. Two of them carried knives. He silently walked past them. Let sleeping dogs lie. The people gave him soul piercing gazes. A group of girls were looking at him and talking excitedly among themselves. As he passed by them, they giggled and gave him flirticious smiles. He walked past them. He badly needed a smoke. He felt in his pockets the cursed. He was out of cigarettes.

  Looking around him, he spotted a little provision store. He walked into it. There was a girls at the counter. She smiled at him.

  "Do you need anything?" She asked, still smiling.

  "Two packs of cigarettes please." He replied, with a blank look.

  She turned around to the shelves and placed the two packets on the counter. He eyed them.

  "You are new here. You've never been to these parts." She said.

  He smiled. She was stating a fact. Something she already knew.


  "How do you know that?" He asked.

  It was her turn to smile.

  "No one comes to this town without anyone knowing. By the way, this is a small place. Just watch your back. I'd hate to see a beau like you waste."

  He nodded, grabbed the packets of cigarettes and put them into his pockets. He then took out his wallet, counted some bills and placed them on the counter.

  "Where are you staying?" She asked, taking the bills and stowing them away.

  "Collin's Bar.” He said, regarding her.

  Her eyes widened. She swallowed hard.

  "Would you know where it is?" He asked.

  "Sure. Just go up this street, at the very end you turn right and you'll see the sign." She said, all in one breath.

  "Thank you." He said, nodding.

  "You know, you can come and spend the night at my place. I won't charge you anything." She said, looking steadily at him and with a small wink.

  "And how far is your place from here? " He asked, with a little smile.

  "Oh, just behind you. The row house across this street, over there. The third door." She pointed behind him.

  He smiled, not turning.

  "No thank you. I'll just go. " He said with a note of finality.

  "OK, bye." She said with a pained look in her eyes.

  He blinked twice.

  "Good bye." He replied, turning and leaving the shop.

  He walked out onto the street and turned. He regarded the store for a while then shook his head. Delving his hand into his pocket he took out a pack of cigarettes, chose and lit one. Carelessly puffing the smoke, he continued up the street.

 

  * * *

  The sign stood just in front of him. It read: "COLLIN'S BAR", in orange neon light. From outside, the bar looked promising.

  He headed towards the door. As he approached it, he noticed two rough-looking men staring hard at him. They both had guns and they did nothing to hide that. One of them went up to him.

  "What do you want here? We don't take in bums."

  "I'm new in town. Looking for a place to stay. I was told I could come here."

  He looked hard at him, nodded and went back to his partner. They spoke for a while, nodded and then gave him one last glance before shifting their attention away.

  Seeing that as a go ahead, he walked into the bar. It was noisy and very full. The crowd was strange with a mean look. No tuxedos or evening gowns. Everyone was casually dressed. The air was stuffy with smoke and heavy scent. A group of men with a woman between them were playing cards on a table. Now and them, a cheer rose from the small crowd around them.

  At one corner were two old men playing chess. The conversed lightly as they progressed with their game.

  Looking around the room, he spotted an empty table. He went over to it, dropped his rucksack on the table and sat on a chair. His head was spinning lightly. He badly needed a drink. A waiter scurried over to him.

  "Evening, mister. You look totally beat. What can I get you?" The waiter said

  "A bottle of whiskey. Make it quick please." He managed to reply.

  The waiter started to go, then, he turned back.

  "Would you also like some food?" he asked.

  "No."

  Same way he'd come, the waiter scurried away. He soon came back with a bottle and a glass. Just then, a man walked in with a girl following him. A hush fell on the bar. The noise became less. The man, who was in his late forties, looked huge and had mean appearance, like a dictator. He had a queer looking moustache. They went over to a table and sat down. Everyone in the room bar glanced at them now and then and talked in whispers. A waiter ran over to them. The man began speaking to the waiter. The girl seemed disinterested in whatever he was telling the waiter she looked around the bar till their eyes met. She frowned, quickly averted her eyes and continued scanning the crowd. The man finished talking to the waiter, nodded his head, then said something to her. She smiled.

  A group of men noisily strolled into the bar. They walked between the tables to the back of the room. There was a large door. One of them opened it and they all went through to some other room. The door closed from inside. He wondered what was inside. Suddenly, he wanted to find out what was in there. The curious man in him became anxious.

  "So you are new huh ? " The waiter, still standing beside him, asked.

  "What is it to you?" He replied, eyeing the glass.

  "Just curious. You know it’s very rare we get a new person in this town." The waiter went on.

  "You mean people don't come here?" He asked, a bit puzzled.

  The waiter shook his head.

  "No mister, that is not what I mean. You won't understand just yet." The waiter replied.

  As he bowed and turned to go, Ken asked, still puzzled.

  "Can I get a room here?"

  They waiter's eyes dilated and a huge grin appeared on his face.

  "Oh sure!! My God! You really want to take a room here?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh my God! You're serious. You know this is the first time in a long time anyone has bothered lodging here. Well like I told you we rarely ever get visitors here."

  Ken nodded. The waiter hurried away excitedly. The man had gone. The girl was alone. She raised the glass of beer, brought it to her lips and swigged it, then put down the glass. Disgusted, he went to nursing his drink. Just then, he felt a presence beside him. He turned. It was the girl. She sat by him.

  "Hello. I'm Valerie." She whispered.

  He ignored her, and sipped his drink. Delving his hand into his rucksack, he took out a pen knife and began playing with it. This is one habit he'd formed which he now found difficult to control. Most times, even in public gatherings, he would whip out a knife and begin playing with it, thinking very little about what he was doing. Music began playing from a jukebox in the bar. A man shouted: "Who put on that damn music !" amid the noise.

  "I like you. You must be new here." She insisted.

  "You should go and wait for your partner. He could be back anytime. I don't want any trouble." Ken replied.

  "So you are weak too huh? You are like the rest of them? You are all afraid of him. I like you and you must like me too.", she said childishly.

  He laughed.

  "Go away kid."

  "Do you know who I am? My brother owns this town and I do whatever I like and I get whatever I want and I say I like you. We are going to play together. You hear ?"

  The man came in and went over to where he'd been sitting. Looking around, he saw her. A dangerous look came to his eyes. He looked away, clenching his fists.

  "But I don't want you. And like I said please go away." Ken said, amused.

  A hurt look appeared in her eyes. Tears began appearing at the sides of her eyes.

  "How dare you say you don't like me ? Everyone likes me."

  She was shouting. Her cheeks were red. The noise in the bar drown her voice. No one paid them any attention; they hardly drew any.

  "Listen to me you little hellion. I don't like you and I want to nothing to do with you. So go away."

  "Go away Val. You are making our guest feel uncomfortable. Remember your manners." a voice said.

  It was the man. He was standing by the table, smiling; a smile that never went half way to his nose. Sniffing back tears, Valarie left the table and stomped out of the bar angrily. A few people looked at her. The others were too busy to notice. Ken quickly put away the pen knife.

  "Hello. I'm Collin, Sorry for my sister's behaviour. She's just kid." He said, as he extended his hand.

  "I'm Ken." He replied, taking the hand.

  The man sat across him.

  "You are welcome to my town Ken. I own this town and it's a pleasure having a new face, although we've never really associated new faces with pleasant memories". He was smiling again.

  "Thank you. " Ken said.

  "So what do
you do for a living Ken ?"

  "I'm a adventurer. Always going places." Ken replied

  "That's nice. And like I said, you are welcome to my town." He stood.

  "Usually, when a new face is seen around here, it deems trouble and almost all the time we've had guests in this town, they'd all come to make trouble." Bringing he face closer, he added,

  "I never ended well for them or for those that came looking for them. So I don't want any trouble. No one will disturb you if you don't disturb anyone. Now I hope you don't end up like the others, because I seem to like you." He smirked.

  "No trouble I promise." Ken replied. Collin nodded and turned to go.

  "What's behind that door?"

  Ken asked, nodding at the door the men had passed through earlier.

  "You want to see what's in there ?"

  "Except if I won't be making trouble by doing that."

  "Come along then."

  Collin went towards the door. Grabbing his rucksack, Ken followed him. He opened the door and they stepped into a corridor. They walked down for a while, the Collin stopped by a door. He pushed it open. The entered a large room. At the far end was a large board with three concentric circles drawn on it. It was a knife throwing area. At the other end a handful of men stood with knives, all ready to throw.

  As though choreographed, they all threw their knives at once. A cheer went up in the room. Most of the knives hit the outermost circle, with three hitting the middle one.

  "We throw knives here. Unfortunately, it has become a habit in the town. You know, men throwing knives at each other." Some of the men laughed.

  "Sure but their technique is lousy." Ken said.

  The men glared at him. Collin raised his eyes.

  "What do you mean by that?" He asked.

  "Has any of them here ever hit the bull's eye?"

  Collin shook his head.

  "None has ever hit the bull's eye." He replied.

  "Now that's what I mean." Ken said.

  A man walked over to ken.

  "Hey what are you saying ?" He asked, agitated.

  "Your throws are lousy." Ken explained.

  "But I've killed people." The man said, then added, " Isn't that what is most important ?"

  "Is he challenging us?" More voices came from the men.