Ch08. Goosebumps

Johan's legs shook, he staggered, and soon after the sound of gunshots,

Johan fell to the ground, falling to his knees.

Seconds later, he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps on the

slightly sandy ground near him.

Followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps, Erick's voice was present

not far from Johan.

"Hurry and get up, man! We still have things to sort out."

Johan opened his eyes, feeling his good hand over his torso, legs, and

arms.

Noticing that there were no other holes in his body - with the

exception of the one that had been made in his hand with the criminal

leader's knife, and those that he had already been born with -, Johan

stood up, with a perplexed and idiotic expression on his face. his

face.

"What?" Erick asked, glancing at his partner. "Do you really think I

would shoot the guy who saved my life and bought me time so I could

kill these bastards?"

"Uh... Erm..." Johan tried to think of what to say, but could only

stutter.

The truth was that he had already noticed the murderous gleam in

Erick's eyes in several situations, and that Johan knew that whoever

carried that gleam in their eyes was very capable of anything...

So shooting someone who saved their lives, and bought them time so they

could kill those bastards wasn't something that seemed so outlandish in

Johan's mind.

But it seemed like he was wrong, so Johan simply shrugged, and followed

Erick to where the whistling young man in the new shirt was going...

The truth is that Johan was walking on autopilot, thinking on

autopilot...

Johan Reed was, at that moment, existing on autopilot.

The streets were a merciless place, Johan knew that much.

But everything around that simple existence revolved around resolving

everything with fists or malice.

Only gangs and criminals solved problems - and still only serious

problems - with bullets.

Even so, Johan had never actually seen anyone die.

Even for someone who lived on the streets, as part of them, death, or

at least a violent death, was just an inanimate and intangible concept

that came to fruition only when someone went to extreme lengths with

something or someone.

Johan had never been someone like that or been around someone like

that, until that moment.

As difficult as it was to define the reason why Johan wouldn't stop

shaking, it was almost certainly not because of blood loss.

Erick was heading towards the motel reception, where a man looking like

he was in his mid-fifties was smoking a cigarette and drinking

something from a small bottle.

The old man's thick mustache covered much of his mouth, making him

resemble a white walrus.

"Hey, uncle." Erick called, coming closer, and crossing the doorway.

"I ain't no uncle, boy, but anyway... What do you want?"

Erick didn't respond until he took out a small wad of hundred bills and

placed it on the counter where the old man was leaning over with his

cigarette and his drink.

"Two grand, you get someone to clean up the mess, and me and my brother

here have never been here."

The old man looked at the money, and then at Erick, his small eyes

darting from one to the other like two greedy marbles.

"Do we have a deal?"

The old man blinked a few times, looking outside, a strange light

lighting up in his eyes.

Recognizing that, Erick continued.

"And two grand more if you lend us your truck."

The old man's eyes lit up even more.

"Who are you? Since when have you been here?"

Erick smiled a wide smile, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and

nodded, leaving there and taking Johan by the arm to their room.

***

When they arrived, Johan followed, step by step, to the bed, and only

then let himself fall again.

"Are you okay?"

Johan slowly raised his head.

After what seemed like an eternity, their eyes finally met.

Johan's eyes looked empty and lifeless.

"I'm f-fine... I mean, it's not like I didn't just..." A brief pause,

and Johan said the words that were struggling to stay stuck in his

throat.

Or, otherwise, all of that would stop being a nightmare and become

reality.

But the words escaped his lips, like prisoners escaping from a prison.

"...Of witnessing a murder."

Erick frowned, and after a few moments, his eyes widened.

"Wait... You've never seen anyone die in front of you? You've never...

Never killed?"

As if coming out of a daze, Johan's eyes popped, overflowing with a

mixture of boiling anger and complete stupefaction.

"I should ask if you've ever killed anyone before, to ask me that

question with such nonchalance. But I literally just saw you kill three

men... In cold blood."

The memory of the question he had asked into the silence of the room,

while Erick was still unconscious, just a few days before, reverberated

in Johan's mind, echoing like the ringing of a church bell.

"But I think the question to ask here, now, Erick Vaughn... Is how much

blood do you have on your hands?"

Erick, meanwhile, took off his jacket, and untied his tie,

nonchalantly.

"Ah, so that's the question to ask?" Erick turned to Johan.

The latter was already standing, but still looking at the ground, not

knowing where to look exactly. "Now, don't tell me you're starting to

have second thoughts about our little deal...?"

Johan slowly raised his eyes towards Erick.

When his eyes met Erick's this time, it was as if everything about the

incident half an hour ago had been overshadowed by something completely

new.

A side of Erick that Johan had already imagined was there, somewhere,

but that he wanted above all else to avoid.

Erick's eyes looked like two black stones in the dim light of the room,

and the look Erick gave Johan said only one thing.

"I have my reasons for not letting people see what I'm capable of. But

when I do, they either give me what I want, or they don't live long

enough to tell the tale." Erick approached, step by step, slowly.

The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped several degrees, and

Johan's skin crawled all over.

"Now, you can tell me that you didn't know I had something like this

inside me, and that seeing this came as a complete surprise. You can

stop lying to yourself, and admit that you already knew something like

this could happen. Or you can also say that you want out."

The strange chuckle that came out of Johan's throat made Erick's skin

crawl.