The Rough Night

“Last order for you tonight, my friend.” The barkeeper told his remaining customer, Miguel, as he handed him another bottle of Desperados.

“Ok, thanks.” Miguel replied before taking several gulps from the bottle. “Ahhhh, you’re closed over the next few days then?” The Spaniard enquired.

“Yeah, we have, um, renovations going on for two days but I’m closing for an extra day as they always run over. It’s best the work is done correctly, rather than rush it.”

Miguel nodded his agreement, taking another swig from the bottle. “So what will be different?” he added, wiping away some beer which had missed his mouth.

“Well I’m adding some electric signing over the door, but apparently the wiring means we’ll have to move the pool table from the center, so I’m thinking a thorough layout switcheroo will be needed, Haha!”

“Sure, right” Miguel nodded.

“They also need to do some plumbing as the toilets have had issues lately.”

“Man, you can’t have that!” Miguel laughed.

“Absolutely not” responded the barkeep with a laugh.

Miguel took another large gulp of his beer and put the bottle down with one swig remaining. “It’s a shame I won’t see it; I go home tomorrow!” Miguel lifted the bottle again and emptied it. “It’s been a real pleasure.”

“For me too, enjoy the rest of your night and get home safe, perhaps you’ll come back and see the end result one day” responded the barkeep as he continued cleaning glasses.

“Maybe, goodnight & god bless.” Miguel stumbled around the pool table and headed out of the bar. Turning right, he walked leisurely while surveying his surroundings. The street was dimly lit. On each side of the road were tall terraced buildings, a mixture of flats and apartments with an occasional ground floor shop; all were now closed for the night.

Miguel heard a scream nearby. He looked behind but saw no-one. He swiveled his head up toward the windows and balconies of the apartments around him. Nothing seemed amiss; he shoved a hand in his pocket and searched nervously for his smokes. Miguel managed to plant a Marlboro in his mouth, but just as he made to light it a body, flung through a window from one of the apartments, crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. Miguel froze to the spot. His gaze was drawn to two silhouetted figures that appeared at the shattered window & looked down toward the body. They then withdrew quickly and silently. Miguel took a step backward, bewildered and frightened. He looked around, confused. He realized he had no idea where he was; he didn’t think he had stumbled more than 30 ft from the bar, yet he couldn’t see it, nor did he recognize his surroundings.

Miguel rushed over to the fallen person and noticed a small brown package in their hand, along with bruises on the wrist but nowhere else he could see. Fearing the arrival of the people who likely killed this girl, Miguel was eager to leave, however his brain wouldn’t let go of the image of the brown paper box, clutched tightly in a bruised hand before being pushed to her death. It looked like they had been trying to get it and whatever it contained was motive enough to kill for, he reasoned. Miguel took the package and started running back in the direction he had come from; heading for the bar, wanting to find other people so that he wouldn’t die unseen and alone, like the poor woman left in the street. Miguel pulled his phone out from his pocket, placing the package under one arm as he frantically tried to unlock his phone so he could call the police, but stopped upon hearing a loud bang behind him.

The two silhouetted figures burst out from the apartment complex and stood over the body for a moment. They looked around and immediately gave chase upon spotting Miguel.

Miguel panicked and dropped his phone. He didn’t dare stop to pick it up; instead, he focused on running while desperately looking for the bar. He spotted it several hundred meters ahead on the left. Miguel reached the bar entrance and barged open the door, scrambling inside before pulling the locks across the top and bottom.

“Hey bud, what’re you doing?” the barkeep asked from behind the bar, somewhat startled.

“Hey man, hey, hey look, uh, long story short I saw a murder and the killers are chasing me, they’re not far behind. Can you call the police?” Miguel slumped down with his back against the door and panted. The barkeep pulled a phone from his pocket, pressed a few digits and then looked blankly toward Miguel as he raised the phone to his ear.

“It’s ok,” said the barkeep. “He’s here and he has it. I’ll pass it to the brothers when he’s been dealt with.”

Miguel rose to his feet. “You’ve got to be kidding me” he exclaimed as the barkeep hung up the phone and put it in his pocket, while raising his other hand which held a serrated blade. “What is going on?” Miguel yelled as the barkeep walked around the bar and approached the startled Spaniard.

“Hand it over and I’ll tell them you’ve been dealt with. I’ve enjoyed your patronage the last few days, and I hope this little fiasco hasn’t affected your opinion of my establishment” the barkeep added with a grin, now stood with just the pool table between the two men.

“I’d believe you, but you have a knife dude!” Miguel responded whilst his eyes searched for a means of escape.

“I won’t use it unless you make me” replied the barkeep, edging around the pool table. Miguel circled the pool table ensuring he wasn’t within reach of his foe.

“Whatever is in this box isn’t worth killing for” Miguel began to plead “I can vouch that you had nothing to do with that poor woman’s death, you won’t be in any trouble if you just call the police.”

“That’s not going to happen, now hand it over” the barkeep responded.

He lunged over the pool table and took a swipe at Miguel. Miguel stepped backwards, avoiding the blade as it slashed the air inches from his throat. The barkeep followed through with his swing, fell off the pool table and landed on the floor with a thud. Miguel swapped the package for one of the pool cues and planted the barkeep across the face with a mighty swing. The barkeep hit the floor and lay face down motionless. Miguel picked up the package and threw down the pool cue. He turned to leave, but just then the barkeep’s phone started buzzing on the floor. Miguel’s brain began to overload; if there’s no answer then whoever is chasing him might break their way in; maybe it’s someone else and he can ask them for help. Miguel kneeled and cautiously placed his hand in the pocket and withdrew the phone, which stopped ringing just as he grasped it. Miguel cussed.

DUSSSHHH! Miguel jumped in shock as the door began rattling under relentless pressure; they were trying to get inside. Miguel turned back toward the barkeep and looked at the knife. DUSH! DUSSSHHH! Miguel looked between the door and knife several times before he knelt again beside the barkeep. He reached for the knife but to his surprise the barkeep twisted around and plunged the knife into Miguel’s thigh.

“Aaaaagh!” Miguel cried out in anguish. The barkeep twisted around and applied more pressure. Miguel punched him twice in the face; the first blow being shrugged off but the second punch broke the barkeep’s grip on the blade. Miguel hobbled backwards but looked at the barkeep with determination. The barkeep began to get up. Miguel yanked the knife embedded in his thigh and instinctively plunged it into the barkeep’s neck. Miguel leaned in and whispered in the barkeep’s ear: “I am not dying today.” The barkeep coughed blood and slumped to the ground. The banging on the door increased in ferocity until the top hinge broke off from the wall. Miguel sighed and grabbed the knife again. The highest bolt broke off with the next bang. Miguel wrapped a drip mat from the bar around his thigh, wincing as he did. The second bolt shattered and the door swung open violently. The silhouetted figures entered and Miguel could now see them clearly; both were at least 6 feet tall and weighed easily 25 pounds more than Miguel. Both were dressed in black, their matching outfits consisting of overcoats, turtle-neck jumpers, black pants & black boots. They looked down at the barkeep; they studied the pool of blood, and their eyes went to the knife in Miguel’s hand.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on but if you come near me, you’ll end up like your mate” Miguel declared, puffing out his chest. The pursuers gaze drifted to Miguel’s patched up leg and the two men swapped glances before stepping toward Miguel; one going to the right of the pool table, the other going left. Miguel cussed, and hoped his fear wasn’t visible.

Survival instinct had driven Miguel’s response to the barkeep’s attack. He was hugely relieved he’d been able to deal with him, but couldn’t shake off the feeling he was now somehow a different person because of it.

These thoughts would have to wait; he had two evidently trained professionals to deal with. He resisted the urge to panic, knowing that could seal his fate. He crouched and prepared to launch himself at whoever made the first move. He could feel his heart pumping blood at an alarming rate. He had no escape route; he knew this was kill or be killed. He was ready as he could be, and realized in that moment his fear had been almost completely neutralized by the adrenalin now coursing through his system.

Miguel’s attention was momentarily drawn to the TV screen in the corner of the bar which was showing the news, and leaned forward when he saw the dead woman and police at the scene. His eyes widened when his face appeared in a little squared box. His phone had been found close to the scene of the crime, and he now realized he was the prime suspect. He immediately turned his attention back to the two men; this situation was far more urgent.

He heard a strange sound, loud and insistent. In that moment, Miguel thought his wits had deserted him in his time of greatest need. It was a phone ringing. One of the men, his eyes burning into Miguel, his stare unwavering even for a second, took a phone from his pocket and listened to the voice at the other end. His expression didn’t alter. His stare bore into Miguel, but his training betrayed nothing about what was to happen next. He stood back. He turned toward the second pursuer and nodded. They both glanced briefly at the TV screen which still showed Miguel’s face.

To Miguel’s astonishment, the two men backed up toward the door, and without uttering a single word to him, they were gone.

The adrenalin drained from Miguel as quickly as it had flooded his system just moments earlier, and he slumped to the floor. He lifted the little brown box up to his ear and gave it a little shake, only to hear the faintest of rattles. He looked bewilderingly at the package, staring intently as if his eyes might see through the wrapping and reveal its contents. “What could it be?” he thought hard.

His gaze was drawn again to the TV screen, remembering his new predicament. For the second time that day he found himself exclaiming: “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Miguel slouched and rested his head on one of the tables in the bar. “I’ve got to know.” Miguel placed the package onto the table and with a deep breath he tore the paper off…!