"the message"

July 8th 2001 by Andy Skuse

WARNING: Coarse Language

"Play the tape again."

The gun pressed hard into my cheek as I listened to the song. The music sounded hollow, echoing harshly off the walls. The voice (if it could be called that) was buried in reverb and pitch-shifted to thicken it. Indecipherable to most people. But the message was in between the words.

"So asshole?" The gun was pressing up against my jaw bone now. "What the fuck is he saying, uh?"

Through the 40 watt glare and second-hand smoke I glanced up to see the arm attached to the gun. Behind him in the dark, more arms. Hanging limply, a gun in each sweaty hand, black metal gleaming darkly inside the shadowy ring.

Lips were dry. My tongue felt like 220 grade. I could still hear the rain outside and on the roof. Steady, not like a spring rain that just pisses down for thirty seconds then moves on. Water dripping behind me, maybe in another room. I licked my lips.

"Well, I think he said..."

I heard a car horn outside, that quick sort of polite honk that someone uses to say, 'Move your ass.' But they weren't waiting for us. Engine accelerated, swish of tires on the rain soaked road. Faded away.

I could see the logo on the gun now. Baretta.

"Yeah?"

Pencil poised over a sheet of paper.

I looked down at my feet. Red shoes, or they used to be. Now the color of mud. Cement floor. Cracked, gray, shiny, industrial paint. Peeling and flaking.

"He said... go fuck yourself."

The gun pulled away from my jaw for a moment, then came back across my cheek.

Head snapped to the left. Stings. Eyes closed. Tight. Waiting for the throbbing to back down before I could focus on taking a breath.

"You want to play games asshole? I know lots of games! We can play all night long!"

Salty, greasy taste suddenly in my mouth. Couple teeth felt loose.

"Oh, so you're hurt uh? You better not bleed all over my floor you son of a bitch."

A comedian. Like I had a choice.

He was in my face again, the Baretta now resting on my shoulder.

"Listen asshole. If you don't tell us what you hear on that tape, she's going to die a very painful death."

My partner. She was already dead. I watched her fall in the rain as we swarmed the front gate. The Chief waved me on to the guest house. Gunfire crackled and faded behind me as I ran across the perfect lawn, crouched low behind a perfect hedge. Go, go, go. Switch to robot mode. I was in shock. Still thinking she was just injured. Static from my radio, a faint voice yelling, "Officer down! Officer down!"

But... he would know that by now...

Unless she didn't die. And the raid went all to hell.

Head hanging, bangs over my eyes, I lifted my gaze. And spat.

"Fuck!" he screamed, and stepped away. Other arms came forward, cocked and ready.

"Beat it out of him."

I don't remember this part.

The dim light in my swollen blinking eyes. Ribs hurt. Looked down at my right arm. Broken. A long cut. Blood was dry. I couldn't feel anything. The ropes around me were holding the arm together.

"Hey Karl, he's awake again."

Karl. I once had an uncle named Karl. Never spent much time with him. But that wasn't my fault.

The tape droned on in the background, set for an endless loop. Sure, I could hear the message. But some people just don't understand even if you tell them...

Baretta in my face again, now shoved into my eye socket.

"So shit-for-brains. Still feeling like a tough guy, uh? Maybe you're ready to talk now?"

"Just tell him what he wants to know Leon. Just tell him..."

My partner.

I lifted my head. A lot harder to do now. Looked around but it was still smoky and dark.

The gun moved, pressed into my ribs now. Whole body tightened up. Hard to breathe. A hand grasped the top of my head and twisted.

"She's right beside you pal."

I thought I was in rough shape.

Her dark hair hung down in front of her face. Tears and eye shadow ran together and dried. Dark stripes down her cheeks. Blue-purple circles on her arms and face. Clothes torn and soaked with blood from unseen wounds. Hands tied behind her, legs tied to the chair, like me. And she was crying.

"Just tell him what he wants to know Leon. I just want to go home. I just--"

I suddenly felt all messed up. She was alive, but she was here instead of lying in some hospital bed. Not good. The noose was tightening.

Jerked my head around again. Gun jabbing me again. Wide eyes inches away again.

"You listening detective? Uh?" His eyes searched mine. I looked down. "She wants to go home. AND YOU'RE THE FUCKIN' ASSHOLE WHO'S KEEPIN' HER HERE!"

The tape stopped, clicked, started up again. But all I could hear was the rain.

"Don't you understand?" He let that hang for a moment. "Detective? You're the one responsible for all of her pain. You're the bastard who is making her cry. You're the selfish prick who is going to get her killed!"

The rain seemed to get louder.

"Are you listening to me man? Anybody home? Uh?"

Nervous laughter from the circle of arms in the dark.

"I just want to know what the guy is saying. Is that really so important, that you'd let your partner die?"

The rain. Something in the rhythm of the downpour was changing. Something very subtle. Buried among the white noise and echoes. I closed my eyes. And listened.

Someone was out there. Outside.

"Tell me what you hear, and we all go home, and everyone's happy."

The rain. Steady again. Dripping in the room behind me stopped. Someone else. In that room. The cavalry.

"OK, okay."

The tape stopped, clicked, rewound, restarted. Music just a blur. 'CODENAME BLACK WING...'

The Baretta eased off my ribs. Wide eyes leaned in close.

"That's better. So. What is he saying?"

'...INTERCEPT AT 0800. BRING BREAKFAST TO UPTOWN...'

The message dissolved into the rain.It was like a long hiss now. Even and unbroken. Figures all around us, in the dark, just inside the walls.

"He's saying..."

I took a deep breath. Thought about her for a second. I could still hear her crying, softly.

He leaned in.

I whispered, my words lost among the hiss.

Movement in the darkness behind them.

"What? I couldn't hear ya, asshole."

I grinned. "Can you hear me now?"

"FREEZE! NOBODY MOVE!"

Everybody moved.

The rain was gone.

Arms drew together, hands around metal, legs flexed, eyes narrowed, several clicking sounds.

"PUT THE GUN DOWN! PUT IT DOWN! NOW! I SAID PUT IT DOWN!"

They wouldn't put them down.

I could feel it about to happen, and so could she. I couldn't cover my ears. She screamed.

When it was over, the echoes of gunfire was still in my ears. High-pitched bell sound, ringing. Men talking excitedly, helping me get up. And one other sound. A steady hissing sound.

A blank tape.