The Forest

THE FOREST

PROLOGUE

The night was dark and the rain was falling lightly on the street, forming small puddles in the cracks of the street. Still, through it all Mitchell could see the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, a good omen he thought. He’d known the old man going on 25 years, the last nine of which he spent as the Don’s “right hand” handling all the dirty work that Don Elliot was too busy for, and for nine years he was overworked and underappreciated. No longer. He had a plan in place, his three most trustworthy friends alongside him, tonight the Don would fall and a new one would take his place. Mitchell finished his cigarette and threw it on the ground, he could see his reflection in one of the puddles. The years had not been kind to him. He looked much older than his forty-four years. His eyes bloodshot and tired, his beard now more gray than brown, and a scar under his right eye. One of the many sacrifices he had made over the years to a man who was more than happy to exploit his hard work. He didn’t look like the type of man who could lead a group of hardened criminals. He was a stocky man who preferred to dress casually. He wore his favorite brown raincoat to go with his brown dress pants, and brown loafers. A simple outfit for a seemingly simple man, but this simple man had a plan. As he reflected on the years and thought ahead to the work he still had to do, he saw his closest ally, Vincent, crossing the street to meet him. Vincent was a tall, thin man with short, clean-cut hair. No matter the situation, Vincent always seemed to have a smile on his face, his perfect teeth shining through in every situation. At times, Mitchell found that smile comforting, and at other times, terrifying. Vincent, as usual, dressed his best. He looked sharp with his black raincoat over his perfectly tailored suit with a dark red tie.

“Everything in place for tonight?” Mitchell said in his gruff voice.

“Tonight? Why, what’s going on tonight?” Vincent joked in his smooth southern accent.

“Damn it, Vincent! Always with the jokes, can’t you wipe that smile off your face and focus?” Vincent put his arm around his old friend and laughed.

“Relax, friend. No need for negativity on such a beautiful night. We’re getting promoted. Would it kill you to smile for once? We’re gonna have this whole city in the palm of our hands soon.”

“Soon, but not yet. Are we set.”

Vincent sighed “Yes, everything is place. The twins are guarding the office door and you know the fools in front aren’t gonna do a thing once the old man is dead”

“Good.” Everything was falling into place, the old man’s mind had slipped in recent years, he was far from the giant of a man that recruited Mitchell so many years ago. He was easy to overpower now, and even easier to fool. Still, something inside of Mitchell felt wrong, almost as if it were too easy. He rubbed his scar and thought to the last time he had felt this way. Six years ago, when he was taking care of a traitor for the Don. That night was colder than any June night had the right to be, and Mitchell shivered in his coat as he followed the rat into the alley. He was about to pull the trigger when he felt a sharp pain under his right eye. The rat’s sister, all five feet of her, had smashed a bottle into Mitchell’s face. He was on the ground for only a moment, but that was long enough for both of them to escape unharmed. Everyone, including his good friend Vincent, never let him live that down. As if the scar wasn’t enough of a reminder of his failings, the nickname “Rat Catcher”, also courtesy of Vincent, had followed him for years. He swallowed hard, trying to forget the past, trying to focus on the task at hand, and trying to ignore the aching in his gut that told him to just turn around and go home.

He turned his head and saw Vincent looking back at him, smiling, as usual.

“Ready, friend?” Vincent asked in a soft, kind voice that caught Mitchell off guard.

“Ready”

“Well then let’s get going.”

They settled into Vincent’s car. A dark black Ford Pontiac, with blood red leather seats. Mitchell had never seen Vincent show much love for people, but the car was another story. No food, drinks, smoking, or back seat driving allowed. Mitchell smiled when thought back to the night when Vincent caught one of the twins sitting on his prized possession.

“Now, what in the hell are you smiling about?”

“Just thinking back to when Terry sat on your car and you beat the ever-loving shit outta him” Mitchell said choking back a laugh.

“No, that was Otto. Not that it matters, those two barely have half a brain between them. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him. Who the hell just up and sits on a man’s car without permission?”

“Easy there, killer. Didn’t mean to stir bad memories.”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of memories, what was that girl you were with a few years back? Sarah?”

“Oh, Samantha.” Mitchell remembered with a devilish grin on his face. “Now she was one of a kind. Mmmm. That was the best week of my life.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was all sunshine and roses for you, good friend. Up until the husband came home. Beat her something fierce, then I get a call at 2 in the morning so we can show him what’s what.”

“Well, that was unpleasant, but don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy tuning that bastard up with me.”

“I never said that, just wish I had gotten a taste of the infamous Samantha for all my trouble. Whatever happened to her anyway?”

“She moved back home, never heard from her again, still think about her from time to time.” Mitchell reflected with a smile. He spent the next few minutes thinking of her and where she was. If he was a different man he’d have gone with her. But he wasn’t a different man. He was what he always was. A thug, a brute, a killer. He supposed that’s what attracted her to him in the first place. But, still maybe he could have been a better man, maybe…

“We’re here” Vincent’s smooth voice interrupted his dreams and now it was time to get back to reality. Mitchell extended a hand to Vincent and he shook it. The two locked eyes and nodded. No words were needed, they both knew the time for words was over. They walked up to the front door, and overheard the two guards talking about the game last night. Mitchell just nodded and went in. He was a familiar face around the old man’s nightclub, no one would question him here. The club was loud, as people danced and drank. Smoke filled the air as the lights flashed and the music boomed. Mitchell had spent his fair share of time in the club, and he found it offensive to all five senses. The only thing more loud and obnoxious than the music, were the people. Mitchell felt old in that moment, he looked around the room and figured he was old enough to have fathered nearly everyone in the building, and maybe one or two of them were his kin. Vincent wasn’t much younger, but he enjoyed this scene. He still had a taste for young woman and drugs, things Mitchell had long outgrown. They finally reached the staircase that led up to the offices. Almost there. You got this. Mitchell whispered to himself, trying to ease the anxiety creeping up his stomach. The hallway was surprisingly quiet and empty. Too easy, he thought, the panic within him was only growing. They approached the old man’s office and were greeted to warm smiles from the twins. Otto and Terry. They were both large ugly men, standing well over six feet tall, with bald heads, clean faces, and pig noses. The only way to tell them apart was by speech. Otto spoke normally, but Terry had a stuttering, slow way of speaking that irritated most everyone he came into contact.

“R-r-right this way…b-boss” Terry said. Mitchell barely noticed him, his head was too full of thoughts to comprehend what was happening. He could smell the blood as soon as he walked in the office. The old man was slumped in his car, his throat opened. It was dark in the office, but his blood shone on the desk as the lights from the club filled the office. He was so confused by the whole scene; he didn’t even realize Vincent had stabbed him until he was already on the ground. He felt a sharp, stinging pain in his lower back. It felt wet to the touch, and his hand was red when he looked at it.

“Shame about the chair, but I am a fan of theatrics” Vincent said with a grin on his face. “You really think I was gonna sit by and watch you try to run this place? You’re not fit to run a laundromat, let alone something this big. But don’t worry friend, I’m going to do something special with all of this. I’m going to run this city and get damn rich doing it. Finish it.”

Mitchell couldn’t comprehend what was happening, all of the sudden he was on his knees, with a knife to his throat. He saw Vincent sitting on the desk with a shit eating grin on his face. There was nothing he could do. He could only choose what the last image he would have on this earth would be. He closed his eyes, and thought of Samantha, of the life they could have had, of the choices he should have made. He thought of being with her in a tiny house on a field. With nothing but the sun in the sky. The birds would sing above them and they would rest in a field with nothing to fear. Then it was over. Mitchell had no more fear. No more dread. His worries were gone; his life was gone. He exited this world anonymously, no one would mourn him. Vincent’s men would incinerate the body and that would be it. Two old men died in that office and new criminal empire was underway…