Fighting to Survive Page 4

  “Alex.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My name is Alex. I hate Alexandra.”

  Ciro laughed. “Figures. It doesn’t matter, as we’ll have to give you a new name anyway. One more... suitable, to our form of entertainment.”

  “Why do you talk so much? Do you love the sound of your own voice that fucking much?”

  Ciro’s smirk disappeared as his eyes fixed on hers.

  “So, why the fuck am I here? This is no doll’s house, so what is it?” Alex continued.

  “Normally I wouldn’t allow such disrespect to go unpunished. But given you are new here, I’ll let that one slide this time. You are here because I am running low on Warriors to fight in the Pits. Mr. Rossi tells me you did a number on one of his colleagues. He told me you had potential. And for the record, the Gambino family isn’t like the Bonanno family, so we don’t have doll’s houses.”

  “Not officially at least,” Mr. Rossi whispered to David, a little louder than he should have. Ciro heard and shot him a stern look.

  “So you want me to fight for you?” added Alex.

  “Yes.”

  “And why would I do that?” Alex knew she had no choice, but she was enjoying trying to push his buttons. She was waiting for him to spit his pacifier out in a tantrum. But it didn’t come.

  “I have many things to do… Miss Lane. So I’ll be brief.”

  Alex somehow doubted that.

  “This is now your home. You now belong to me. We will house you, feed you, and train you. You will fight at least once a week until you lose, or until I find a better use for you.”

  “So I get to go home if I lose?”

  “No, Miss Lane... We fight to the death.”

  The reality of the situation hit Alex like a brick to the sternum. Did I just hear him right? To the death?

  Ciro looked towards the man with the scanner.

  “Find her a cell. Feed her well and clean her up. She’ll make her debut tomorrow night.” Ciro turned back to Alex and gave her his smuggest grin. “Welcome to the team… Miss Lane!”

  Chapter 10

  Northern District

  Parsons & Son’s Orchard, Romney.

  George sipped his hot chocolate while sitting in his favorite chair next to the cold, unlit fireplace. The blood had now disappeared after Maria had cleaned him up. But not before Casey had dealt with the wound. George’s former ear was now packed neatly with fresh gauze and bandaged up.

  For the first time in a while, George was alone. His thoughts were on Billy. How could he have gotten the family into such a mess? All he had tried to do was what was best for them. Why did I always seem to screw it up?

  Maria came downstairs and greeted George with a smile.

  “Daisy’s fast asleep now. Hopefully she doesn’t have nightmares about all this,” said Maria.

  “She’s a strong girl, like her momma,” replied George.

  Maria smiled wider. George had always loved her smile, and it’s the first thing he’d noticed when they had met. Maria leaned over and kissed him softly.

  “It’s my bedtime, too. Not that I’ll likely sleep. I’ll be full of worry until Billy’s home safe and sound.”

  “I know. I don’t know what else to say?” George replied somberly.

  “Is Casey back yet?”

  “Nah. But he’s been gone a while so he’ll be back soon.”

  “Don’t forget to talk to him. We need to sort this,” Maria said as a few tears rolled down her face.

  “I won’t. And I know. Yous should try and get some rest.”

  “Goodnight, George.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Maria disappeared upstairs and George was left alone with his thoughts once more.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Casey walked in the back door holding a bag full of medical supplies. They had very little in the house, and what they did have he’d already used.

  Maria and George had questions for him he wanted to avoid, at least for now, so he took it upon himself to walk to the store to get what they needed to keep George from an expensive hospital visit. It was a three-mile trek each way. He didn’t mind the long walk, and the time away helped them all.

  He stopped in the kitchen to put away his haul before making his way to the family room where George rested. George was still awake, staring at the wall and deep in thought.

  “I’m back.”

  “Yeah, I heard yous in the kitchen.”

  “We have everything you’ll need for your ear for a week or so.”

  “Thanks. Yous could have took the truck ya know.” George turned to look at Casey as he said it. Casey was still standing in the doorway, almost too scared to enter.

  “I know. But it’s not that far. Plus, what’s the sense in giving them more fuel tax.” Casey was referring to the Cosa Nostra, of course.

  Ever since they had taken power following the Last War, they’d taken control of the oil fields and power plants. They knew it was too dangerous to leave private companies in control, as they’d be too susceptible to becoming part of a coup. The country had an unhealthy addiction to electricity and gasoline, and the Cosa Nostra wanted to control that addiction. Depending on which family territory you were in, you could easily pay three to five-hundred percent tax on top of the price of the fuel. No one drove anymore unless they really had to, as fuel was at such a premium now. The one good thing that had come from it was that traffic jams were now extinct.

  Casey decided to sit down opposite George. Neither man spoke for a while.

  George finally broke the silence. “I always thought yous were my friend.”

  “I am, George.”

  “Then why did you let them do this?” George pointed to his ear. “I’ve seen you carve through much bigger guys as if they were nothing more than a ham on Christmas Day.”

  “If I’d have stepped in, what good would it have done? They’d have just come back with more men and bigger guns. And you’d have lost a lot more than an ear. They would have executed us both and taken Maria to work in the Doll’s House. Where would that have left Billy and Daisy then? No one disrespects the Mafia, you know that.”

  Both men remained silent, neither wanting to talk about what they knew they inevitably had to. Casey knew George was dying to ask the obvious question, and even though he didn’t want to answer it, he’d resigned himself to the fact that it had to be asked.

  “Why did you hide?” George’s voice trembled as he spoke.

  “I was scared, George.”

  “Bullshit! I ain’t seen you scared of nuffin before. There ain’t no way them men scared yous. Even that big ugly one. Hell, I even saw you have a gun pointed at ya, and yous didn’t flinch.” George was getting impatient, squirming in his chair.

  Casey didn’t speak.

  “Yous either know something about what’s happening that I don’t, or they know something about yous. Which is it?”

  Casey could sense George’s frustration even though he was trying to stay calm. George had always avoided confrontation, especially with Casey. It was something Casey was thankful for, and it made their relationship simpler. It’s not that Casey was afraid of confrontation. He was afraid of himself. He was always scared he’d do something he’d regret. Something he was trained to do. He didn’t want to be that guy anymore. The nightmares still plagued him.

  “Both,” Casey said reluctantly.

  George looked confused for a second. “Yous gonna ‘ave to do better than that.”

  Casey knew he now had two options. He could keep quiet and leave the Orchard before daybreak, and let George deal with the consequences of his own decisions. Or, he could tell George the truth and risk George turning him in for the reward money. He wouldn’t blame George if he did. It’d easily clear his debt and turn George into one of the wealthiest men in the district. If they paid out, that is. Harboring a wanted man for ten years, even unknowingly, wouldn’t be taken lightly.

  George’s eyes remained locked on C
asey as he waited for an answer.

  He hated to get involved, but he knew he’d put them at risk from day one. Sure, the debt was George’s mess, but something bad was bound to happen with Casey around. His past always seemed to catch up to him eventually. Then there was Billy. He’d grown fond of the boy. He thought of him as family, just as they’d thought of him. Teaching the boy to fight was certainly on him, even though it was George’s idea. If Billy had just stayed out the way then he wouldn’t have been taken. He certainly felt some of the guilt for that.

  “Okay, George. But if I tell you, you need to promise not to tell Maria. We risk putting them in more danger.”

  George nodded.

  “You know how we all have ID chips put in at birth?” Casey rolled up his sleeve to reveal a small scar on his forearm. “Mine’s been removed.”

  “I thought that scar was from working in the Orchard?” George inquired.

  “It sort of was. I removed my chip one day, not long after you hired me. I did it in the Orchard where no one could see.”

  “But why?”

  “Because if people were to find out who I really am, then you’d all be in danger. I’m a wanted man, George.”

  “So yous don’t want to go to jail? What ya do, kill somebody?”

  “I’m not wanted by the police. The Mafia has a price on my head.”

  “Shit!”

  Casey knew George would understand him wanting to avoid jail. Even if he was innocent there were too many corrupt cops and judges these days that he’d likely still end up inside. But this was different. This was as bad as it got.

  “What you’d do?” asked George.

  “My father sold secrets to the Independent Alliance. He was executed as a traitor. I worked for the Mafia, too. They assumed I was in on it, which I wasn’t. So they put a hit out on me. Unfortunately for the guy they sent, I was better trained than he was, or smarter… whatever. Anyway, when they realized I’d taken their hit man out, in their eyes that confirmed I too was a traitor. They slapped a price on my head, and I had to run.”

  That was only half of the story, but it was enough for George to realize the gravity of the situation. It was already a lot for George to take in, especially on top of what had happened earlier. Casey wasn’t going to burden him by telling him about Lenora and Celia, too.

  George looked dumbfounded. His jaw almost hit the floor. Casey never really knew what George thought he’d done before working for them. He was certain he wouldn’t guess he was a member of La Cosa Nostra. He hated them more than anyone, and everyone knew it. It was probably the reason George had hidden his debt to them from Casey in the first place.

  Casey spoke to fill the silence. “I’m sorry. But I hid because I had to. If they’d found out who I was you would have all been in danger. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to beat the hell out of those guys for doing what they did to you.”

  “They still have Billy,” said George. “What will happen to him? They said they were taking him to the Pits to fight.”

  “Fuck!” Casey didn’t know that. He was too far away hiding in the Orchard to hear what was said. He didn’t need to for the most part, but this he wished he’d heard sooner. Casey continued. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “Why? They still took him, so what does it matter why? I just want him back. I don’t want him to get hurt fightin’.”

  “It absolutely matters. If they had taken him as a guarantee we could still bargain, or even just clear the debt and get him back.”

  “They said he was collateral, and I had a week to pay. So that means we’ll get him back then, right?

  “Have you ever been to the Pits?” Casey’s tone was getting sharper and more urgent with every breath.

  “No…” George started to look panicked.

  “George, they don’t just fight for points. It’s not a fucking boxing match. They fight to the death!”

  Only now was Casey realizing the enormity of the situation. Letting Billy be taken and imprisoned for a short while was one thing, but knowing he could die on any fight night really concerned him. He’d taught Billy a few basics, sure, but nothing that would prepare him for the Pits. His first fight could be his last. They just had to hope they could get there before they scheduled him to fight.

  George began sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Which Pit did they take him to?” Casey asked. It mattered.

  “I dunno,” he spluttered. “They didn’t say.”

  “The men that came were just soldiers. Who was their Caporegime?”

  George looked confused, and Casey remembered many wouldn’t know the Mafia terminology from the outside. They all were the same to everyday folk. “Their boss, who’s their boss?”

  “Mr. DeLuca,” George said, hesitantly.

  Casey dropped his head and put his hands over his face, where they remained for a moment as he thought. After a long minute, Casey lifted his head and dropped his hands, now clenched into fists.

  “Of all the people, George, you had to ask him for money.” Casey shook his head. “This won’t be easy. He’s all the way out in Cincinnati. I’ll leave before daybreak. They won’t have gotten there yet…” Casey looked over at the clock on the mantlepiece. “So at least he won’t be fighting tonight. I’ll be gone some time, and maybe the Miller’s boy can come help you out tomorrow while I’m gone?”

  “I ain’t staying, I’m coming too. He’s my boy!”

  Casey understood George’s feelings. He’d want to go too had the roles been reversed.

  “If they find out who I am they’ll kill me on the spot. They’ll kill you, too. Then Billy will be lost, and Maria and Daisy will be left with your debt…” Casey paused, giving George time to think about it. “I think you’ll be better off here. If I don’t make it back, they’ll still want the money. You need to find a way of getting it ASAP.”

  “You know, Maria’s gonna flip when she finds out you left without me.” George cracked a wry grin.

  Casey laughed. “That’s why I’m leaving you here. The Mafia scares me less.”

  George laughed too. “You got that right. She can be one mean woman when someone crosses her.”

  Casey stood and walked to the door, turning around before he left.

  “I’ll get him back, George. Just make sure you get that money.”

  George nodded, and his tears started flowing again.

  Casey left and retired to the barn. He needed to rest, as he had a feeling tomorrow would be a very long day.

  But even he had no idea just how long it would become.

  Chapter 11

  Casey opened his eyes and sat up. The sun had just started to rise. I’d better get out of here before the others wake up, he thought.

  He dressed in the black cargo pants, gray t-shirt, and black boots that he’d laid out the night before, filling his pockets with the few things he needed.

  He walked over to his bed, a mattress on the floor of the barn’s upper level, and lifted the top right corner, revealing a photo. He looked at it one last time before he left. The picture was of a beautiful woman in her late twenties. She had long blond hair and a smile that could light up a room. On her lap was a young girl, aged five, who shared the same radiant smile. Her hair was brown, though, the same as Casey’s.

  A tear fell from his eye and landed on the photo. It might be the last time he’d ever saw those smiles, and he considered putting the photo in his pocket, but he knew he couldn’t. The mafia would find it for sure. They’d be no way of him stepping into that place and not being patted down. He couldn’t risk it. He tucked it safely back under his mattress and gathered the rest of his things.

  Casey headed to the truck; there was no other way of doing that kind of distance without it. He’d just hoped there was enough gas in it.

  Keys! He needed the keys. He snuck into the kitchen to hunt for them and found them just sitting on the countertop next to a piece of paper, a roll of bills, and some .40 bullets for a han
dgun. He opened the note scrawled in George’s terrible handwriting, and it read:

  Casey,

  You’ll need gas. Maria said to give you money for it.

  I left the handgun in the glove box.

  Come back safe.

  G + M.

  Casey gathered the items and headed for the truck. He didn’t want to risk seeing anyone before he left. He had always hated goodbyes.

  Once in the truck he opened the glove box to reveal an old police issue Glock 22. Strict gun laws had come into place since the Cosa Nostra took over, but over the years, as organizations such as the police and military upgraded their weapons, a large black market for ammunition had surfaced. The fact was that guns, especially ones for personal protection, were now more common than they’d ever been in the history of the United States, despite the strict licensing laws.

  He checked the gun over. That’ll do, he thought. He put it back in the glove box and added the bullets, too. He knew he wouldn’t be allowed it in the Pits; they were too careful for that. He’d keep it there for now, just in case.

  Casey started the truck and drove away from the house and down the driveway. He looked in the rearview mirror one last time, and saw George standing in the bedroom window. “Goodbye, my friend,” he said to himself.

  Casey turned right when he got to the end of the long driveway and headed straight for the highway.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  It was late afternoon before Casey had reached the city. It’d taken him some time to find the place; unsurprisingly people weren’t too willing to help him with directions.

  Parking was abundant these days, especially in the city. The constant fuel price hikes had taken their toll on people, so they’d sold their cars in favor of walking or public transit.

  Casey had six hours until the Pits opened, and decided to use his time wisely and scout out the abandoned building before him. He found two doors that seemed usable, one of which was a big black door with an ID scanner next to it. This was presumably the main entrance for the paying customers.