VisDare – Diverge
It’s been quite a while since I’ve participated in one of Angela’s VisDares.
Hope you all like what I came up for this week 🙂
March parked the flivver and got out. He’d have to walk from here if he wished to remain undetected. The silence was absolute and the coldness of the night penetrated his clothes and his bones. Loud Tom said the men he was looking for would be here tonight. The dirt Loud Tom gave was on the level. He felt it in his gut (and his gut hadn’t led him astray, not once). Loud Tom was no liar, he knew. And so March ventured deeper into the darkness.
Eventually March started to hear the sound of voices just up ahead. From the voices, he discerned there were just two men. If things got messy, he knew he could stand his ground against two mugs. March smiled as he imagined what Barbara would say. “March, don’t you get cocky now. Two against one is still two against one. They are still ahead of you by two fists in the area of punching one’s lights out.”
Tom crouched behind a huge tree with branches that barely had any leaves. He slowly, carefully, watched and listened. He was right. There were only two men. One had a bald head and an eyepatch that covered his left eye. The other one was small, probably only four feet in height, and had two shovels in his hands. The hearse they drove was parked not far from them—the door at the back was open and March saw the tail end of a coffin.
“…gives me the creeps,” the smaller man was saying. “I wish the boss would take me out of coffin duty.”
The bald man just grunted in reply followed by: “Shut your kisser and help me with this.”
The smaller man laid down the shovels and walked towards his companion. The two of them carried the coffin out of the hearse.
“Just be glad there’s only one today,” the bald man said.
They placed the coffin on the ground and both of them grabbed a shovel. March watched as the two started to dig.
“Hey, have you seen the boss? I’ve heard him talk to me but always behind a screen or on the phone. Ain’t seen a glimpse of him. Not even a peek at the man’s shoes,” the small man said. He paused and wiped a film of sweat that had clung to his forehead.
“Haven’t and I don’t care,” the bald man answered. “Shut your trap Fly and keep on digging. The boss don’t want no delay in the schedule.”
Fly made a face and said: “Lighten up, Bruno, will ya?”
They dug on in silence from there on out. March waited. From somewhere far, an owl hooted answered by a wolf’s howl.
When Fly and Bruno had decided that the hole was deep enough, the two climbed out of the hole and towards the coffin. March knew that he’d have to stop them from burying the thing. Otherwise, he had no way of unearthing it until tomorrow and that may be too late. Again, March imagined what Barbara would say. “March, don’t do anything brash. Wait until the men have gone.”
“Sorry, Babs,” March whispered to no one, “Patience ain’t one of my strong suits.”
He then stood straight, removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and stepped out from behind the tree. “Hey, ya ugly mugs!” He shouted.
The two men were obviously caught off-guard. The surprise was evident in their faces. Fly looked at March with narrowed eyes.
“Who you supposed to be?” the small man said.
“This ain’t your business, bo,” Bruno said. He then jerked his thumb to the side and said: “Better scram before I make a mess out of your pretty little mug.”
March raised both of his fists and smiled. “Yeah? I’d like to see you try, big boy.”
Bruno looked at Fly and the little man gave a nod. The two picked up their shovels and carefully advanced towards March.
Good, they’re not packing, March thought. Guns would have made this a whole lot messier. March watched and studied the two. Bruno obviously was stronger of the two but he looked sluggish. Fly on the other hand seemed to have the speed. March angled his body diagonally and spread his feet apart. He always felt alive when in a fight.
He didn’t wait for the two to get into striking distance. He charged them right ahead. March was well known to be a decent fighter. His skills showed that night. In three quick steps he had closed the distance between him and Fly. Fly was caught off guard. He could only watch as March’s fist struck him clean on the beezer. Fly dropped the shovel and fell down to the ground; his hands on his broken nose.
Behind him, he heard Bruno fast approaching. March quickly stepped to the side as the shovel came crashing down. The hard metal landed on Fly’s body. The small man lay unconscious.
March took advantage of the opening. He gave Bruno one nasty liver blow. The big man screamed in pain. March followed up his attack with a punch to the kidney. Bruno swung his shovel clumsily which March easily avoided. March then drove his knee deep into Bruno’s gut. The bald man fell down to his knees.
“Who are you anyways?” Bruno asked in-between coughs. “You don’t know who you messing with, bo. The boss hears this and he’ll have you sent pushing daisies.”
March said nothing. He just smiled and introduced his shoe to Bruno’s face. Bruno fell unconscious to the ground.
March breathed deep. “Told ya I could take them on, Babs,” March said smiling. “Now, let’s take a look at what we have.”
March picked up a shovel and walked towards the coffin. He struck the wood hard and the lid cracked open. He expected the smell of decaying flesh but he smelled nothing. He grabbed a lamp from the hearse and poured light on the coffin’s insides. March stared wide eyed. He wasn’t expecting what he saw.
“Oh, Babs,” March said.
Lightning flashed above him shortly followed by the sound of thunder. March Rivers stared in disbelief at a neat row of guns and ammunitions.