Heavy Rain
There he was, alone in the pouring rain, wondering if this was it, Ben was jumping in and out of consciousness, the blast from the revolver still ringing in his head. His past had finally caught up to him, Ben reached for a cigarette but the heavy rain kept him from lighting it. The sound of the rain tapping against the hard concrete almost felt soothing, the last thing Ben could remember was the muffled sound of paramedic.
“ Stay with us Ben!”, The paramedics voice echoed through his head.
“I ain’t going nowhere doc”, Ben mumbled.
He could feel that something was wrong with his mouth, the things he was saying sounded different.
“Your jaw is shattered, so try not to speak”, said the paramedic with a hint of fear in his voice.
Ben was feeling light headed, they had given him some morphine for the pain and his eyelids were getting heavier every second. He could hear the paramedics talking about his condition when he finally passed out.
Several days had passed since the incident, when Ben finally returned to the police station.
“Ben, I am glad that your ok, the chief wants to see you.”, said the receptionist.
Ben stumbled inside the police chiefs office. The chief was a very tall man so when he stood up people often had to look up to him.
“Ben! How are you feeling?”, asked the police chief.
“Like I’ve been thrown of a cliff.”, Ben said while forcing his jaw to cooperate with him.
The chief was closely observing Ben as he was talking, he then looked down on his desk on some papers and looked back up at Ben. Ben could tell by the look of the chiefs face that it was time to get down to business.
“What’s wrong chief? You got something for me?”, Ben said eagerly.
“I am sure I will regret this but we got a lead on the people that did this to you.”, said the police chief, “And it gets worse, I am putting you in charge of the investigation.”, he continued saying.
Bens face lightened up as he was filled by the thought of repaying the favor, the chief looked quite miserable as he realized what he just had done.
“Well I’m off.”, said Ben as he turned to face the door.
“Promise me you will not do anything stupid now Ben!”, said the chief with a considerate tone.
“I’m not good with promises.”, said Ben as he walked away.
Well outside been reached for a cigarette while glancing up on the city skyline. The silhouette of the young 1940 New York almost seemed evil, as it was looking back at Ben with a grim smile. Suddenly been felt weak at heart and his legs gave way, the thick smoke from the cigarette filled his lungs. Ben fell backwards trying to lean at the closest wall, which happened to be further away then he thought. His body slammed down at the payment while people were walking by.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?”, said Ben to himself while grinding his teeth.
When he finally got home the phone was ringing, it was an officer out on the field who had got hold of a witness to the incident.
Ben moved like a silent shadow through the dark back alleys of New York as he approached a diner were the witness was being held. As he got closer images of that night when the shit hit the fan started to reappear in his head, it was almost as he was reliving that moment several times in his head. Just as Bens memories was getting more intense the flash of the chrome revolver appeared, but in fact it was a other officers flashlight.
“Ben, you feeling alright?”, said the officer who drove the car.
“Yeah, was just daydreaming bout’ better times”, said Ben as he started to realize the things he just saw was all in his head.
As they drove up to the broken down diner Ben could see the reflection of blue lights, almost the whole police station was there. He walked inside and in the far back of the diner sat a almost perfect example of a bookie. He was short, almost as short as if his feet could barely reach the floor from the barstool he was sitting on. As Ben approached the bookie he almost fell of his chair.
“It’s you!”, he stumbled, “You’re the one they are talking about!”, the bookie said with a stuttering voice.
“What, me?”, Ben answered surprised.
The bookie now looked even more chocked, his eyes glancing through the thick glasses he was wearing. Almost as if he would have seen a ghost.
“Your supposed to be dead!”, he shouted out in despair.
The atmosphere was tense, you could hear a needled drop from a mile away.
“I’m supposed to be dead?”, said Ben with a angry tone, “Then your dimwitted henchmen didn’t do the job right”, he said now with a smug grin on his face.
Ben grabbed hold of the small man and lifted him off his feet, pushing him against the wall with a firm hold of his trench coat. The bookie looked terrified and started breathing frenetic.
“You will tell me all I need to know about you’re so called clients or we’ll have a problem here”, Ben said with deep threat full tone, as he was pushing the bookie against the wall even harder.
Information was now pouring out of the bookie like the water gushing out of nearby broken fire post , as Ben felt like had all the information he needed about the suspects he let the officers at the diner take the bookie in for surveillance. It was early in the morning, the dawn was spectacular and they couldn’t help grinning as they drove off.
