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More than newspaper or TV spots on what a ‘helluva guy’ some rich asshole is for just turning up and smiling for the cameras.
The corner branch is closed early, but there are a dozen ATMs on the way, so I decide to stock up on money before I get there, as most seem to be doling out a limited amount.
Christmas… Bah, humbug!I smile to myself. The sound and feel of crisp hundred-dollar bills that were once beyond my wildest dreams always make me smile, even to this day.
But only because there were so many years when I couldn’t even afford to eat, let alone live the life I take for granted now.
I make a few stops, and once I feel the wallet straining to close at the last ATM, I figure I’m good to go until my next visit on Christmas Eve.
The kids on the ward, the ones with moms and dads as well as the sisters, will all rest a little easier tonight, I hope.
Turning to put my wallet back into my pocket, I bump into a thick-set man and offer an automatic apology in a low voice, but the guy doesn’t move.
Then one guy turns into three as I look up from my wallet, stifling a groan at their cruel, creased faces.
The dull sheen of a Glock grabs my attention from under number one’s coat.
“Just hand it over and keep walking,” he says in an equally low but more edgy voice than my own.
That hand has a slight tremor, and it’s not just from the cold.
I don’t feel like getting shot today, and anyone living in the city has their own mugging stories, buttoday? Right now?
With all those Ben Franklins I just took out for those sick kids?
I don’t fucking think so.
“Uh, fellas,” I say calmly, eying each of them with a small smile.
“I can buy us all a nice hot cup of coffee, give ya a hundred a piece even, but Ican’tgive you my wallet,” I tell them, suddenly deadpan.
“Not today. Notthiswallet.”
Suddenly annoyed at myself that I even offered to buy them coffee, I should be laying all three flat right about now.
The wallet was a birthday gift from the hospital when I turned ten, and it had the first dollar I ever earned in it, which I keep framed in my office now.
I hear the sound of the gun cocking in a wordless reply.
Blinking slowly, I realize these guys aren’t playing a game, and they’ve most likely followed me since I left my office.
Idiot!
I feel my knuckles creaking into a fist, the guy’s hand flashing in front of my face as he hits me with the butt of his gun, and then I find myself falling.
Falling backward as I hear Sister O’Halloran’s laughter echoing in my mind.
Those streets are icy as all hell today.
I don’t think they expected a man my size to fall like this, but I slip on the ice as I tense up. I’m helpless even as I feel the wallet yanked from my fingers before I feel as if I am about to black out.
The pain at the back of my head is like a white heat, only made worse by what feels like nails being driven into it.
Tiny snowflakes that feel like hammers peppering my face.
Then I hear her.
I hear her before I see her, unable to say anything myself before I slump back further, all the way into the blackness, but I hear her all the same.
