A Bit of Human Driftwood
an excerpt

"So, Charlie, did you find the place okay? I almost thought you were going to be late."

"I wasn't sure how to get in," Charlie spoke, nervous, "The main gate was locked. But-but I--I mean, Penelope--she showed me the side entrance."

"Now, I suppose we'll get down to business," said STranger, interrupting Charlie's thoughts. "You're here, you must realize by now, because of your friend."

That's right, Julian. Charlie still hadn't seen or heard from him since that night. To be honest, Julian Kidd was as far from his main focus as it could be. In the last half of a week, he'd lost his job, gotten on a crime lord's bad side, slept with the crime lord's wife--he had a whole other list of problems besides the dissapearance of Julian Kidd. Yet it was because of Julian that all of this was happening. If it weren't for him, Charlie would have gone home, gone to Sammy's, had a few drinks, and all in all, it would have been a normal night. But now Stranger had him pinned at the scene, and Charlie had no way to prove he didn't take anything. Charlie gripped the metal back of his chair so tight his joints began to ache.

"Y-yes," he admitted, "Julian asked me to stop by the apartment, he said--"

"Do you know what it was he took, Charlie?" interrupted Stranger.

"It was bills, he said. He told me he was watching the place for a friend, and that she needed them mailed. He took them down the stairs, I was waiting by the elevator, I--"

"You're very quick to turn on your friends, Charlie."

Charlie was taken aback. "But I didn't do anything! It was all Julian's fault, why should I take the rap for something I didn't do?"

The orange glow pulsed again before shaking along with Stranger as he laughed. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. Friends stick up for each other. Unless, of course, he wasn't your friend? Do you think, Charlie, he may have been using you?"

"No!"

There was a pause. "Then why would he be so careful as to get your prints all over everything? Why would he do everything to place you at the scene of the crime? Why would he have fled the area when he saw the victim coming home?"

Charlie hadn't thought of it that way before. He cursed to himself in the silence. But there were still a few things that didn't add up, still a few puzzle pieces out of place.

"Why," began Charlie, "would Julian had spent months pretending to befriend me if he could've easily slipped in and out of the apartment at any time? He had a key. He didn't force the door open."

"Yes, why would he?" asked Stranger in return. His tone seemed condescending as if he was teasing Charlie.

"I didn't do anything," came Charlie's reply. He spat out each word as if it were poison.

"You realize I know you're innocent, Charlie. You don't need to convince me of that. You're not here to defend your innocence. You're here to do me a favor."

The very idea of doing a favor for a well-known crime lord was something that unnerved Charlie even more than the idea of being locked in the box with a well-known crime lord. He'd hate for the police to get involved in anything, and if the favor involved killing something--Charlie didn't know what he would do.

Gathering up the courage, Charlie squeaked, "What kind of favor?"

"It's simple, really. You want your life to return back to normal, I'm sure?"

Charlie did.

"And you want nothing to do with me, I'm sure?"

Charlie didn't.

"So I'll propose to you this favor. I require Julian Kidd."

So it was back to this again. "I don't know where he is, I've told you that!"

Stranger seemed to ignore his plea, and continued. "I'm a generous man, so I will give you five days to bring me Julian. You will do this for me, and once he is here, your life will return to normal. You'll sit alone every night drinking beer and listening to your neighbors' radio because you can't afford your own. You'll go back to your job at the dock--I'll arrange for that. It'll be like Julian never existed."

"But I don't know where he is. How am I supposed to find him for you? I can't."

The tone in Stranger's voice changed. The glow from the cigarette dimmed, and sputtered out of existance as he crushed the butt into the surface of the table between them. "You misunderstand me, Charlie."

"You're asking for the impossible. If I'm misunderstanding the request, clarify it."

"You seem to be under the impression that the favor I'm asking of you is optional. You will bring Julian Kidd to me in five days time, Charlie. As I've said, I know you're innocent and you would never do anything to cross me. But if you don't bring him to me or if you refuse my offer," Stranger trailed off.

Charlie's thoughts flashed suddenly to the Beretta tucked underneat his coat. It clung to his side safely, and in the darkness, Charlie found himself reaching for it. He wasn't a murderer, yet he found his thoughts venturing to the idea. He and Stranger were alone in here, it was pitch black. Penelope was the only one outside--if she was even there still. It was an easy way out. Just one shot, and all of Charlie's problems would be over.

He reached for the weapon, taking it from his holster in silence. He took aim to where he knew Stranger was sitting. The glow of the cigarette, his only point of reference in the dark room, had been extinguished, but he hadn't heard Stranger move from his chair. Charlie's finger hung over the trigger. Taking a quick breath in, he went to press the lever and end his troubles once and for all.

With no warning, Charlie found himself on the floor, unable to breath. His face was pressed against the cold, dirty, gritty floor of the shipping container, and hte gun had been wrenched from his hand.

Someone else in the shipping container laughed. "F***, Casimir, did he try and shoot him? You better tell him it's kind of hard to shoot someone when they've got no bullets in their gun!" the voice was younger, more energetic than that of Stranger's.

"Let him up, Casimir," he heard Stranger say, "I hadn't finished talking. Frank, keep your mouth shut."

The pressure was relieved from Charlie's neck, and he lay on the floor, gasping. "You--you--" he tried to catch his breath back, "The note said it was just going to be us."

Charlie heard Stranger's chair scrape against the metal, and his footsteps, heavy, made their way over to where Charlie lay, still gasping for breath. Stranger must have crouched beside him, as Charlie could even smell his smoke-laden breath from where he lay.

"Did the note say it would be your chance to off me? Did the note say it would be your chance to become a hero?"

"No!" shrieked Charlie.

"That's correct. You see, Charlie, I am not a stupid man. When I let you walk in here, into this pitch black room, with a gun, you can be sure I know it's not a danger to me. Penelope took the opportunity of unloading it when she was in your apartment. She took the bullets in it and the box of spares you kept on the top shelf of your closet, next to your box of old letters. We've been watching to see if you've gone home to get more. We've had watchdogs at all the ammunitions supply stores. You had no way of reloading that pistol."

There was the noise of metal sliding upon metal and Stranger's smokey breath dissapeared for a moment. Then came the terrifying, heart-stopping moment as the barrel of a gun pressed itself against Charlie's right temple. Charlie braced himself best he could as Stranger pressed back the hammer. But all that followed was a minute click and not the ear-splitting, brain-smashing blast that Charlie expected.

"You're a disgrace, Charlie," spoke Stranger. There was a swish of cloth as Stranger stood and a clatter as he threw the pistol to the floor.

"I--" began Charlie. He was unsure where he was going with his plea and found himself unable to continue.

"As I was saying, Charlie, if you don't refuse my offer, I have no problem whatsoever killing you. Your life means nothing to me. Your death would mean nothing to me. Bring me Julian Kidd, or I will personally rip out your entrails for the birds, hang you by your neck, and then dump your body in the Sound. No one will miss you, no one will investigate."