The Thing about Flying Monkeys

Dawn was a girl of 18, and like her sister had shoulder length dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a blue denim jacket and pink lipstick. She stood at the door peering through the peephole with near dread of the presence of anybody who happened to be walking by.

“Listen,” a voice from behind her spoke as she turned from the door to look at who was speaking; Clark, a childhood sweetheart of her older sister, who came back into their lives after a 10-year absence. “Santucci's men won't be coming after you.”

“How do you know that? Just a few days ago they came crashing through this very door to take me to that horrible room where they handcuffed me to a chair and had me sitting in the same position for three days. And that Santucci was the cruelest of the lot.”

“That's not going to happen,”

“How do you know?”

“Santucci and his men live and breathe to follow the command of one person: Doniela Cardioni. She's in police custody until the trial is over, which is going on as we speak.”

“And after that?”

“The police located the weapon she used with her fingerprints all over it, that with the video Rachael took, and the fact that they were able to reconstruct enough of the corrupted footage taken from the security camera behind the theater to place her there, she'll be put away for at least the next 40 years.”

“That's all well and good, but Santucci commands a small army of flying monkeys!”

“Do you know the thing about flying monkeys that works in our favor?”

“And what is that?”

“While they are vicious and predatory, they live by a strict hierarchy and hardly ever go past the boundaries of their territory. When the trial is over, you and your sister are out of New York for good and will soon be living in Philadelphia, which is not their territory.”

“If your landlord can work it out.”

Clark let out a very long sigh. “Your sister has already made the arrangements with the landlord online. It's already ready to move into. So, the sooner you stop peering through the peephole waiting for something that's not going to happen, the sooner we can start packing and safely get you a city that will be safer for you to live in.”

Rachael sat in the courtroom in the first row of seats behind the prosecutor, all of the evidence was presented, and the jury was in the little room behind the judges' bench. They were back there a mere 10 minutes, and they came back with the verdict.

“Do you have a verdict?” The judge asked.

“Already?” Doniela groaned as the defense attorney placed his hand on her shoulder. The orange prison overalls she wore were uncomfortable, but she knew that within a few hours, she would be back in her silk dresses, and this trial would be forgotten.

“We do, your honor,” the jury foreman responded, “we find the defendant Doniela Cardioni guilty of murder in the first degree.”

“Wait--. What?”

“That crime carries a punishment of a minimum of 40 years,” the judge then went into his closing remarks.

“You haven't heard the last of me,” Doniela cried out as they escorted her out of the room, she tried to hang back but found herself being pushed forwards. “Santucci, you know what to do!”

“I'm glad that's over,” Rachael mumbled as the doors closed behind Doniela.

“So am I,” a gruff sounding voice from behind Rachael said.

Rachael turned around to face Santucci, who towered well over a foot over her. “Why are you glad it's over, this puts you and your flying monkeys out of a job. But that was the thing about them, once the wicked witch was taken out of the way, the flying monkeys became as harmless as kittens.”

“Don't worry about us being out of a job for very long, most of us will find something new within a week.”

“I'm not worried,” Rachael shrugged, “more wondering what you're going to put on your resume. I mean, did you really have to handcuff my sister to a chair for three days?”

The prosecutor couldn't help but overhearing what was being said. “Do you want to bring up charges against him?”

Rachael had forgotten she was standing in the middle of a courtroom, but the harsh reminder that she had come to be as she turned to face the prosecutor. “I don't think that will be necessary.”

“We were just doing our jobs,” Santucci responded.

“Which you took way too seriously,” Rachael quickly moved towards the exit, “good luck on finding new jobs. One last thing, what did Doniela mean by what she just said?”

“Just...” Santucci grumbled, “...there are certain men from the security team that will still try to come after you as long as you're still in New York. As for me, I officially quit already.”

“Sure, you did,”

Rachael triumphantly marched her way into the apartment with a smile on her face to find just about all of the items packed and ready to go.

“OK,” Rachael said, “good news. The trial turned out to be a three-day ordeal, but the judge has her sitting in the State Penitentiary for the next 40 years.”

“What about the flying monkeys?” Dawn asked

“Most will be too busy looking for new jobs to be coming after us,” Rachael said hopefully, “but there will be a few who will try to come after Dawn sooner or later.”

“Will that Santucci be one of them?”

“He was one of the first to quit,” Rachael responded, “but that won't mean that Santucci's men won't come after you for revenge as long as we're still in New York.”

“If you want, we can go get a U-Haul truck, load it up tonight, then try to get started for Philly later on tonight,” Clark suggested.

“We can do that,” Rachael looked at her watch, it was a little after six, “better hurry, I think they close at 7, but there's a U-Haul station just 2 blocks down.

A short while later, Clark was returning with the truck, within an hour after that, it was fully loaded, and they were pulling away from the apartment.

“Are you sure they're not going to be coming after us?” Dawn looked at the rear-view mirror.

“I saw some of Santucci's men gathering around as we were pulling away,” Clark said as he got a worried look from Dawn, “don't worry I already called the police.”

Dawn looked to see several police cars swarm around the apartment building, followed by a bit of a shootout. “I guess we can never go back there to live.”

“Wasn't planning on it.” Rachael smiled as Clark pressed his foot to the pedal and made his way to I-78, then eventually I-95 to Philadelphia.

Even though it was after midnight, Clark and Rachael were out organizing the items in the U-Haul truck, while she was supposed to be unpacking things as they came in, but she decided to take in the view she had of the Philadelphia skyline from the apartment along Girard Avenue just off the Schuylkill river while fumbling with a cigarette she stole from Clark's pack of cigarettes he left sitting around. Dawn put the cigarette to her lips and lit it. Her throat immediately chided her for doing so.

As she was coughing her lungs out, there was a knock on the door. She threw the cigarette aside. “It's your own apartment; you don't need to knock to come in!”

“Just open the door, dumb ass!” Rachael called back.

“OKAY!” Dawn pulled the door open, to find both Clark and Rachael each holding a stack of boxes.

“You know you're supposed to be helping out,” Rachael said as a matter-of-factly as she stood outside the door.

Clark was the first of the two to enter, he smelled the distinct smell of something burning. “What's that smell?”

“Oh, that? It's nothing.” Dawn said flippantly as she frantically waved her hand in the air, trying to clear away the smell of the cigarette.

“Nothing?” Rachael parroted as the smoke alarms began to go off, she reached up and hit the little button that stopped it from screeching, a sound that was irritating at any time of day, let alone at midnight.

“Well--.” Dawn looked to where she tossed the cigarette, it landed in a pile of crumbled up newspapers, lighting the pile up like a mini bonfire. “Oh, fuck!”

“Dawn!” Rachael yelped, “the moving truck isn't even unloaded yet and you're already trying to burn the place down?”

“I'm sorry,” Dawn yelped, “it was an accident!”

“It always is with you!” Rachael yelled back.

“Rachael, yelling at your sister like that isn't putting out the fire,” Clark had a fire extinguisher in his hands, he pointed the nozzle at the base of the flames, a long squirt put the fire out.

“It doesn't look too bad,” Rachael looked at the smoldering embers, “just a small area of the floor.”

“Once we throw a rug over it, nobody will ever know,” Dawn looked up to see a guy around her age peering through the door. “Oh... hi!”

“Throw a rug over what?” The guy marched over to where the smoke was still rising from the burned ashes on the floor. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Dawn's mouth quivered as she looked at the intruder, “why do you need to know. You must be just one of the neighbors, right?”

“He's more than just one of the neighbors,” Clark said, “he's the landlord's son.”

“Oh God,” Rachael cursed.

“Fortunately,” Clark grabbed the dustpan and swept up the ashes, then turned to Mike, the landlord's son, “the contractors used fire resistant materials when they lay the floors.”

“Like I said,” Rachael replied, “if we throw a rug over it, nobody will even know it's there except the four of us.”

“It'll still be interesting to know how the fire even got started,” Clark sifted through the ashes to see if he could find anything. After a few seconds, he came up with a partially smoked cigarette.

“Looks like one of yours,” Dawn quickly said.

“I usually smoke mine outside on the patio,” Clark looked at Dawn, “never inside the apartment, and I most certainly never toss them into a pile of crumbled newspapers.”

Dawn let out a pout, “why look at me? I don't smoke.”

“But you did try one,” Clark looked at the cigarette butt, it had pink lipstick on it, which only Dawn was wearing, he held the spot of lipstick on the cigarette butt up to her lips. “Didn't you?”

“So, what are you now, a private investigator now?” Dawn slapped at the cigarette butt that Clark was holding up, sending it flying across the room.

“Actually, I am,” Clark sighed, “but that's not the point.”

“And what exactly is the point?”

“For one, you're legally too young for smoking,” Rachael quickly said.

“That's not the point,” Clark said, “while it's true, it's not the point.”

“Then what's the point?” Rachael asked.

“OK,” Dawn said, “I got scared when I heard you guys at the door, so I got careless and tossed the cigarette aside, where it landed on a pile of crumbled up newspapers.”

“That's not the point,” Rachael said.

“Actually, it is the point.” Clark said.

“Oh.” Rachael gave a look. “So, what are we going to do about the burn mark?”

“Actually,” Mike stood there with a can of floor varnish and some sandpaper, “while you guys were having your little conversation, I went and got a few things. In around 2 minutes, you won't even need to throw a rug over the area.”

Dawn watched as Mike ran sandpaper over the burn mark on the floor until the burned area was cleared away, then swept up the dust into the dustpan.

“There,” Mike spread some floor varnish over the sanded area, “let it dry until morning, and it'll be like it was never burned.”

“You do this all the time?” Dawn asked.

“My mom collects the rent, and I do the repairs.”

“And you live on the property,” Dawn asked, “right?”

“On the other side of Clark's,” Mike said.

“So, I guess I'll be seeing a lot of you,” Dawn looked Mike up and down, he was only a few years older than she was and wasn't too bad looking. “I hope.”

“Dawn--!” Rachael yelped.

“It's OK,” Mike smiled, “I could use someone in that direction.”

“So can I.”

“Dawn--!”

“OK,” Clark led Rachael outside, “let's give them some space, and finish getting the truck unloaded.”

“Give them some space?” Rachael barked as she stepped on the elevator from the third floor. “We know nothing about him.”

“Correction,” Clark said as the elevator reached the ground level, “you know nothing about him. I on the other hand, have lived next door to him for the past three years, he's a nice guy.”

“Oh, I wish I had mom and dad around to tell me what to do,” Rachael groaned.

“What happened to them, by the way?” Clark asked.

“Oh, that's right, you don't know,” Rachael realized, “well they were both killed in a car accident a few years ago, and I became sort her caretaker until she became an adult.”

“And how old is Dawn?”

“She's 18,” Rachael shot Clark a look, “you know that.”

“Yes, she is. But do you know that?”

“Of course I do.”

“Listen, Dawn was just through an ordeal that lasted for 3 days, then the trial. Fortunately, she didn't have to be there the whole time. She's still watching for Santucci and his men to come back for her, and them showing up at your old apartment just as we were pulling away didn't help matters. She needs something to happen that will basically take her mind off of what she's been through over the last week.”

“And you think it should be her decision what direction their relationship should take?”

“Rachael, you were my girl next door, let Dawn be Mike's.”

“As long as he doesn't leave her in the lurch for 10 years,”

“Hey! I had no control over a few things that happened, then I lost track of where your parents kept on having you move to.”

“I know,” Rachael groaned as they each took another load of boxes off the truck.

There was a clear view of the Schuylkill River from the 3rd floor apartment, and Mike stood on the patio pointing out areas of the river to Dawn when Clark and Rachael came in.

“With two of you here, I was kind of hoping you'd have at least a few things unpacked instead of seeing the two of you messing around!”

Mike shot Rachael a look. “It's well after midnight.”

“And maybe I actually need someone to mess around with!”

“Listen,” Clark turned to Rachael, “all we need to do is get the truck unloaded, so I can turn the truck in. You can unpack everything in the morning, let Mike and Dawn do their thing. Besides, we just talked about this.”

“I'm sorry, it's been a long week, with Dawn being kidnapped by some New York crime boss, then the trial and a few other things.” Rachael explained to Mike.

“She's usually not like this,” Dawn smirked, “usually being the key word.”

“I was thrown into becoming her guardian a few years ago, and I guess I just still haven't figured out when to step back.”

“But there's still the chance of Santucci and his flying Monkeys coming after us.” Dawn said.

“Dawn,” Rachael said, “Santucci actually quit during the trial, he and the smart ones are looking for new jobs. The stupid ones were arrested while we were running from the old apartment. So who's left?”

“Besides we're in a different city.” Clark pointed out.

“So you don't need to be looking for any of them to be coming after you,” Rachael shot Dawn a look, “unless you wanted one of them to come after you?”

“Don't be silly,” Dawn said, “why would I want Santucci...o-or any of his Flying Monkeys to come after me... because I... don't.”

“OK.” Rachael smiled. “Well, if we let what happened go, we don't even have to remember any of them ever again. You have someone new in your life that you can give proper attention to.”

“I could use a proper girlfriend,” Mike held out his hand.

“So could I,” Dawn reached out for Mike's hand, then realized what she said, “I-I mean a proper boyfriend.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can take a walk down along the river, there are a few nice little places we can sit and talk and get to know one another.”

“No can do,” Rachael scoffed, “she has to help me unpack all of these boxes.”

“Which will take us two hours to do, maximum.”

“I was thinking more in the afternoon anyway,” Mike said.

“Cool,”

“M-maybe Clark and I can join you then,” Rachael suggested, “but I'll leave that up to you.”