The Tank

Chapter 3

Vinny awoke the men from their insomnia induced daydreaming, and smacked the men who didn’t want to, awake. The men slowly dredged out of bed, practically falling onto the floor with a lack of grace or color. The feeling of the morning had crept into the minds of the unaware, and the sunshine found its way into the room.

Robbie lumbered himself out of bed, and landed onto the floor with melancholic grace. Robbie dragged himself out of the bunks, and into the private office in which he talked to his small friend once before. The men filed in, sat down, and Vinny called the mens names.

“Jerome Torrio?”

“Here”

“Scar?”

“Yeah?”

“Ria Malkovich?”

Robbie sat quietly. His face was sunken and his lack of sleep popped out his features in full view. It was five in the morning now, merely minutes after Robbie fell asleep. He looked down at his hands, then at Vinny. His sight was saturated by tears and the lack of sleep, speech slurred by the drowsiness. Vinny raised his voiced suddenly:

“Robbie? Robbie! Robbie!”

“Huh?” Robbie was completely shaken up by last night, and sleep had worked against him. All he could think about was the torn family, and every time he blinked, he saw the man. Resisting to blink, Robbie had bloodshot eyes and fresh tears.

“Jesus jiminy Rob you sure are slow. Anyway, that seems to be all of us. Le's head out boys, maybe a little bit of that morning humidity will knock ya ‘round.”

The men began to file out of the room again in a tired slump. Men chattered down to a mere whisper as everyone began to make their way out and toward the exit.

Afterwards, Vinny shuffled out of the room, in a bit of a slump himself. He kept his head low and his features concealed behind an emotionless face.

As if last night were bad, it had felt like the temperature had risen to Sahara level temperatures this fine Jersey morning, and humidity mimicking a post-rain Amazon. The temperature was souring and sweat was forming quick like waterfalls on the men.

The men filed out of the safe house and started towards the three parked vans. Not too long later, they started dropping like flies. The men were heavily unprepared for the hot August day, and the men walked in full Mafia attire; a full tuxedo with a single blue rose stuck on the front of the coat pocket.

Not even minutes after the exit, men were vomiting, some passing out, and some even crying from the sweltering hot summer day. Shortly after, Vinny, Scar, and Robbie had to start help dragging men to the vans.

Heatstroke, heat exhaustion, heat cramps and heat syncope. Vomit and sweat littered the yard of the safe house.

“Now maybe you’d consider air conditionin’ for the boys, huh Vin?” Scar was impatient, not because of the air conditioning, but rather because he was annoyed he had to carry vomit covered, sweat glazed men across the yard like barley bags.

“Nah, too expensive. But whatevah - it’s fine Scar, they’ll be fine once they’ve gotten to the Bronx. Besides, there’s air conditionin’ in th’ van.”
“Yeah maybe – but the smell of hot vomit and sweat isn’t necessarily ‘flattering’ to anyone, now is it?”

“Whatevah – just help me haul these guys, ok?”

“Whatever”

Vinny, Scar, and Robbie all dragged men, each to one of the two vans available. After all the men were packed into the vans, the overwhelming smell of hot vomit, body odor and fresh sweat proved too much for the men. Vinny was gagging, Scar passed out, and Robbie tried his best to catch up on lost sleep.

Less than an hour into the trip, the van was already a hotbox of repulsiveness, and men started fainting. The air conditioning was already on, but not even an ice cube duct taped to the men’s faces could relieve the sweltering heat chipping away at the men’s spirits. Vinny, still awake, shook Robbie violently out of his slumber.

Robbie slowly came to, and in a tired daze he asked, “Yeah Vin?”, still half asleep.

“Alright, you’re awake. Now I jus’ wanna make one thing clear, see?” Vinny was stone-faced and serious with Robbie, and in a serious tone, told him, “When we get to that Riverdale apartment complex, don’t say a damned thing, or I swear I’ll sock ya, alright big guy? Not a word, not a sound – not even a damn shuffle. Anybody takes a swing at ya? You move outta the way. Anybody makes a dumb remark? Ya stay lookin’, see? Jus’ don’t say a damned word. Got it?”

“Yeah Vin, I hear ya, not a damned word…” Robbie paused in thought, and spoke again, “What’s this guys name anyway? How do we know what we’re dealin’ with - Who’re we meetin’?”

“We’re makin’ a deal with a man who goes by ‘Frankie’, and we’re goin’ with the guns to give to him an’ his boys,” Vinny explained, “It’s nothin’ but a little talk, just a negotiation. I’ll tell ya though, I ran with Frankie, and he’s a hellofa hothead I’ll tell you what. So just so you know, if he tries somthin’, just stand clear Rob.”

The High Bridge was in full view now, the disgusting odor still lingering. Men were wincing, as the stomach pains were setting in from cramps and exhaustion. The vans were now over the High Bridge, and the Bronx shined proudly with city patriotism and tall buildings, practically trademarked by New York. The men were whining and groaning now, and the van quickly turned into a van full of zombies.

Vinny welcomed them awake, “Ah, you’re all finally awake,” Vinny continued, “Well, we’re almost there. Gather yourselves together an’ jus’ throw out yer jackets, I guess.”

Robbie looked around the scented van, and he took a peek over the drivers seat out the windshield, and into the oh-so-close fresh air the pained men longed for. Robbie quickly took in the Bronx, eyes full of wonder. Billboards to buildings, you name it, it was there. Robbie took in young New York’s beauty, and set back in his seat with contempt, a wide satisfied smile on his face.
The sweet silence was broken with a sharp tone from the head of the van. “Ay, Vin! We’ve almost arrived at Riverdale, next we’ll be around the block.”

“Alright, very good. Ay, how about Biggie, he pullin’ ‘round or headin’ into the garage?”

“Th’ garage”

“Alright, that’s fine – let’s jus’ pull ‘round there, howzabout.” The driver complied, and after riding around the block into the Riverdale neighborhood area, he quickly pulled around another block, across from the complex. After a few short minutes, Biggie pulled in around 2 blocks down, and drove down into the street.

Biggie was assigned the gun and supply van, and so he discretely pulled around the block in front of the complex, and he drove backwards into the Riverdale public driveway, into the guarded garage. Biggie disappeared behind the garage doors, and the men headed into the complex, with a simple head nod for final confirmation. Vinny was studying the silent transaction carefully from the now parked van sitting on the block, making sure Biggie was safe, at least under his supervision. Robbie, however, already had a sneaking suspicion.

“Never caught that before…”

"Huh?" Vinny replied.

"The guys? The wavin'?"

“Oh! don’t sweat that none Rob, Frankie runs differently. Th’man is always paranoid about somethin’ all the damn time. He’s always proddin’ an’ pokin’ where he shouldn’t, I’ll tell ya. Sheesh.”

“So?” Robbie was still skeptical.

“So… I’m sayin’ the man wants ta make sure nothin’ ain’t a fluke or a setup. Ya see Rob, somethin' happened to 'im a while back, and evah since, he’s always been a nosy and paranoid type’a guy, y’know? Always snoopin’, lemme tell ya. And as of late, he’s been thirstin’ for some trouble, and he hit me up callin’ for some guns, ammo, yadda yadda fuckin’ yadda." Vinny motioned with a mocking hand gesture, and continued, "So, bein’ a good type’a guy, here we are.”

“Yeah I guess that makes sense now…” Robbie was still skeptical, but before he could analyze the scene further, a hand was waved from the other side of the street, and the van moved up and started for the driveway. The two men from earlier waved the group of men through, and the vans disappeared from the outside world, into the Riverdale complex.