The Tank

Chapter 2

The bunk rooms of the Mafia safe house were never truly very comfortable, metal bed frames, thin mattress’, brick-like pillows, and no windows. It gets very hot very quick, and unluckily for the members of the Mezzanotte Mafia, it’s August 27th, and the hottest day of the year. Some if the men couldn’t even sleep, some awoken at three in the morning by the overwhelming pool of sweat. Needless to say, Robbie is already up. He pulls himself out of bed in a sleepless slump, and he heads into the barren game room of the safe house, and pulls out his smuggled copy of a Shakespearean classic, “Hamlet”.

“To be or not to be’… that is the question indeed Prince Hamlet.” Suddenly, James Torrio, better known as “Scar”, waddles into the room. Scar is one of the top kingpins of the Mezzanotte Mafia, and highly respected. He’s seen as god in the eyes of the smaller hustlers and newcomers, and has given advice and even served with gangster legends such as Al Capone. He’s a humble, modest man, and is the only man blessed in the mafia with “looks that kill”. He’s cunning, quick, decisive, and right now, he’s tired and sweaty.

“Yessir, ‘To be or not to be’. God, I love Hamlet.”

Robbie jumped back and nearly fell onto the pool table. “Jesus Christ Scar, near gave me a damn heart attack. Whattya doin’ up so early?”

“The hell ya mean what am I doin’, it’s a hundred damn degrees out here! What’re you doin’?”

“Oh, just readin’” Robbie is suddenly quiet again, seemingly embarrassed.

“I see… ya wanna play pool?” Scar asked awkwardly.

“I guess” Robbie said again shyly. Robbie was never a taker, and here he had one of the top most highly respected kingpins asking to play pool with him. How could he possibly decline?

The two men played pool for a little while. Robbie nearly took up al of the table setting up his shot, while Scar took up barely any with his tall and lean stature.

After several minutes, Vinny walked in to grab another cigar pack, and lashed at the boys with indignation,
“The hell you boys doin’? You know DAMN well we got an important job tomorrow in the Bronx.”

Robbie thought back to Vinny’s exact words and quickly started towards the door without even looking at Vinny. Scar resisted however, and shrugged humorously at his boss’ orders.

“C’mon Scar, y’know how long that ride is to the Bronx from here.”

“Yeah I know, I know, I’m goin’” Scar slowly and tiredly dragged himself back to his oven-like bunk.

As Scar disappeared into the darkness, Vinny takes a puff of his newly brandished cigar.

Robbie creaks back into his small bunk, staring at the ceiling. Robbie is still distraught from his misdeed, and thinks forward towards the job in the Bronx.

“It’s nothin’ but a talk – a little damn talk. No need for force or violence. When worse comes to worse, just look to Vinny. When worse goes to even worse, just push him a little, just a little shove to the side, that’s all.”

Robbie closes his eyes, and he sees it. The man, broken neck and all. Two small children emerge from the pitch black darkness, and a woman of average looks and height. The man stood next to his family, and looked into the darkness at Robbie with his twisted neck and dead grey eyes.

The woman looked back over in tears, her hair a rugged mess and her wrists bleeding. Her makeup faded, and her body turned a natural white, and her eyes turned a dead grey like the man. He looked over at the children, emotionless and still. They looked aimlessly into the abyss, distressed, tears running.

The darkness crept backwards, and a single spotlight highlighted the shining oil-like blood that ran down the woman's cut wrists. The man's twisted neck was fully visible, with vertabrae stretching the skin outwards, putting full focus on what Robbie had done. The broken family stepped closer, and stared.

Robbie jerked back up, sweat pouring and tears running. Robbie has truly realized the horrifying truth of what he is capable of.

“Good Lord…” Robbie was terrified of himself. “Jesus Christ if I were another man, I’d shoot myself right at the sight of me…” Robbie felt the tears run like rivers down his face. “Nothin’ at the Bronx, not a damn thing. Nothin’, and I’d be damned if I lift a finger.” Going back to sleep was merely just a possibility to Robbie, and he didn’t even try to conceptualize it at this point. He lay awake all night, wishing to God he could be better. Almost like all nights, he had brief thoughts of leaving the mafia, but he knew it could never happen, and like all nights, he dismissed the thought.

The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, with its large orange glow highlighting the beauty of the flowers and the sparkle of the morning dew. Robbie and the other men however, were confined in their small brick box, or Vinny’s disgrace of a “bunk room”. Robbie’s tears began to dry and stick to his face. With wide red eyes, he fell asleep at the break of the morning dawn, realizing his misdeed in horrifying realization.