By Timothy Lantz

Chapter 1
The Drop-Dead Samaritan

I

Twenty-two steps. That’s how many steps there are between the first floor and the third floor where I have my office. Twenty-two. I know this because I counted each and every one of them. Not out of any sense of curiosity or desire for the knowledge, but as a way of staying focused.

Somehow, I managed to pick myself up from that alley and make my way back here. I’d tell you how, but honestly, I don’t remember.

The twenty-two steps? That I remember.

Standing at the foot of the stairwell, each one of those twenty-two steps seemed like Everest. I hunched over and clung to the railing, pulling myself up by sheer will alone. The pain in my side flared with each lifting of my leg. A wave of nausea washed over me with each tug of the rail. It was all I could do to stay focused, to push the thoughts of pain from my mind.

I tried thinking about other things. I tried hard to imagine getting back at the boys who did this to me. That proved to be too much thinking however. I had plans and schemes that would make a third-world dictator proud, but they weren’t helping me get up the stairs any faster. In the end, I gave up trying to formulate thoughts and just started counting.

With each step, the number became a new personal victory. By the time I reached twelve, all other thoughts had been driven from my mind. I had become obsessed with finding the answer to the only question that mattered. How many steps to the third floor?

Twenty-two was to be my Holy Grail.

Upon arrival at the answer, I found myself not celebrating, but swooning. I could feel the callous pull of gravity. It taunted me, tried desperately to send me backwards, down to the bottom, back to one. I would not loose now however, and pushed myself further.

Eleven.

That’s the number of footsteps to my door. It was probably only six on a normal day, but now it was eleven. My steps were shorter. They were also faster.

Momentum carried me down the hall, building speed as my weight grew heavier with each baby step. Somewhere beyond the counting I knew I needed to retrieve a set of keys from my pocket, but there wasn’t time.

I crashed recklessly against the solid wood, my already broken nose bearing the brunt of impact. It set off a shower of sparks against the dark night of what had become my vision. I imagine I remained that way for some time, like a fly caught on flypaper, twitching slightly, but stuck fast.

How long I remained there, I don’t know. Minutes? Hours? Days? It’s impossible to say.

All I remember is falling.

II

“Mr. Hawkins?”

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but bright light. It made my head hurt so I clamped shut my eyelids.

“Mr. Hawkins? Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

I tried to raise my right arm, to wave off any offers of help. I may have even been successful.

“I better call a doctor.”

“Wait,” I managed as I forced my eyelids open again. Kneeling over me was a pretty girl. No, not a girl, but a woman. She was an exotic temptress the likes of which I had never seen. Her face was a glowing bronze mask of porcelain smoothness framed by straight black hair that barely kissed her shoulders. I looked into her eyes. They were deep brown and wide, slightly almond shaped and surrounded by a hint of olive green. I got the idea she wasn’t from around here. I blinked once or twice, dumbfounded. “Am I dead?”

“Not yet. Though, almost, by the looks of you.”

I thought that over for a minute. “Okay.”

I think I saw a smile cross a pair of full, red, lips before I passed out.

III

I stood at the edge of the desert. It was dawn and I could see the first light of the sun as the bright golden orb peeked out above the horizon. Everywhere, I was surrounded by deep shadows that slowly shrank before my eyes. Looking back at the sun, it was now mid-afternoon. I felt the warmth of a hot breeze as it drifted past. It was a perfect day.

A shadow swooped along the ground and I looked up to see a mighty hawk riding the thermals. He rose up higher and higher until I thought he might touch the sun. Finally, he dove and used his speed to fly off into the distance. I watched until he was no longer a speck in the sea of blue sky.

Another shadow, this one long and twisted, slithered past me. I stood transfixed by its hypnotic motion. The shadow rose before me, like the cobra of a fakir. It danced and grew until it too rose to greet the sun. Suddenly, the air turned cold and I found myself pulling my arms in close, trying to stave off the chill. The shadow continued to rise, blotting out the sun.

I stood alone in the dark, helpless and cold, watching the giant serpent weaving back and forth. When finally I felt we had come to an understanding, he struck. I felt his bite on my arm.

I opened my eyes to find a nurse jabbing me with a needle.

IV

“What’s it all about Hawk?”

I peered over the top of the Thursday morning paper to see Blake McClellan standing in the doorway of my hospital room. “You’re the detective, why don’t you tell me?”

Blake smiled and pulled the hat from his head as he stepped into the room. “Feeling better?”

“Some,” I nodded. “They worked me over pretty good.”

“Who?”

I looked at Blake and just grinned.

“Alright, keep it to yourself. You know I have to ask anyway.”

“I know. Its nothing for you to worry about. Just a slight disagreement.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Yeah, you can get me a decent cup of coffee.” I threw the paper on the stand next to a cup of undrinkable black sludge.

“Sure, but I want to hear all about when you get out of here.”

“You bet. I’ll let you buy me a beer and I’ll give you the full scoop.”

We eyed each other silently for a few minutes. There was nothing that needed to be said. I winked and he nodded, placing the hat back on top of his head. “Doc says you can go home tomorrow. Will you be needing a ride?”

“That’d be swell.”

He turned to leave, speaking over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow Hawk.”

I watched as he made for the door, content to let him go, when suddenly, I remembered there was something else. “Blake.”

He stopped without looking back. “Yeah?”

“Did you talk to the girl?”

He faced me, a big grin drawn across his face. “What girl?”

“Bastard.”

“See ya tomorrow Hawk.”

I swear I could hear him laughing all the way down the hall and onto the elevator.

V

It took half an hour and the help of a nurse who I swear learned her bedside manner as a member of the Bund Deutscher Mädel, but I was dressed. I sat on the edge of the bed dangling my legs and fidgeting with my hat. The paperwork had been filled out and I was ready to roll. Only, there was no sign of Blake.

So, I waited.

Another hour later and a Candy Striper wandered in. She didn’t see me at first and was pulling out a cigarette for an unscheduled break. As I watched her fish her apron for a match, she finally realized she wasn’t alone. Instead of trying for an excuse, she wiped a stray strand of dishwater blonde hair out of her face with the back of her hand and smiled.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a match, would you?”

I shrugged and pulled a matchbook from my coat pocket, holding it out to her.

Her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Thanks mister.” She took the matches and fired up the tobacco blowing a thin trail of smoke from her nostrils. “Coming or going?”

“Going,” I said.

“That’s something, anyway.” She hugged herself and leaned back against the wall, sucking on the end of the cigarette.

“Busy?”

She blew a big cloud in the air. “Don’t you know it. This place is crazy today. My legs are killing me.”

I looked down to see for myself. They were shaped just right for my tastes, not like the nurses who stand all day. “They look good from here.”

She grinned. There was a twinkle in her eye. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

She smiled and drew another drag from the cigarette.

I was about to say something clever when Blake stuck his head in the door. “Sorry, I...” He saw the girl. “Well, as long as you’ve got company.” He smiled at the girl.

“No problem. Blake this is...” I turned to the girl suddenly aware that I never did get her name.

“Amy.” She stuck her hand out for Blake.

Without missing a beat, Blake shook her hand and tipped his hat.

“Alright, break it up you two.” I slid off the bed to my feet. I pretended it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

Blake grinned at my obvious discomfort. “All ready?”

“Yeah.” I shuffled my way over in front of the girl. “See ya round kid.”

“Thanks for the match.”

I winked and practically pushed Blake out the door.

VI

After two days in the hospital, the apartment felt like Buckingham Palace. Just knowing there was more than one room was enough though, as I still didn’t feel up to moving around a whole lot. I threw my coat and hat on the floor in front of the closet and sat gingerly down on the sofa.

Blake chuckled and hung them up for me. “Maid’s day off?”

“I thought that’s why I keep you around.”

“You’re pretty funny for an old guy.”

“Old? I’m younger than you by three years.”

“Tell that to your body. Have you even looked in the mirror lately?”

Blake was right. I looked terrible. It wasn’t so much this recent beating, but rather a long line of historical incidents stretching back a decade. My face had scars. My body had scars. Hell, my scars had scars. My body was a virtual roadmap of a life lived hard. Right now, I was feeling every mile of it too. “Enough of the Bob Hope routine already. Fix us a drink will ya?”

He made his way into the kitchen and came back with two glasses of scotch. “All you had,” he said as he thrust the glass into my hand.

“It’ll do.” I took a sip and watched as he sat down in a chair opposite me.

“So?” He said casually as he turned the glass around in his fingers.

“So,” I said back.

We sat and stared at our drinks, neither saying a word until finally, I felt a little more relaxed. “It was the Michigan boys.”

He nodded.

“Seems they feel I owe them something on a count of that little raid that went down last week.”

“You want me to run them in?”

“No. I’m of a mind it’ll just make them mad.”

“Probably right.”

I swallowed the last of my scotch and held the glass out, giving it a shake.

Blake rose and went to the kitchen coming back with the bottle. “Yesterday, you mentioned a girl.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly as he poured me another round.

“I’m thinking maybe I imagined it.” I looked him in the eye. “Tell me, how did I get to the hospital?”

His face scrunched up a little and his eyebrows drew together. “I assumed you called from your office. I only found out after the Doc showed up.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“Then who?”

“I don’t know. I remember a girl. She looked foreign.”

“A Mex?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not from around here foreign.”

“Could talk to the Doc, I suppose. Is it important?”

“Could be. I’ll let you know. At the very least I ought to thank my Good Samaritan.”

“And?” He stared at me with that shit-eating grin.

“And,” I smiled right back at him. “She was drop-dead beautiful.”

On to Chapter 2: Isha!

chapter index