Outsourced

19

Dan had a mostly restless night. As much as he tried to fight it, his mind kept racing, jumping back and forth to different images from the previous day. The dead girl, her chest caved in, an ever-growing pool of blood leaking from her; the other one, the middle-aged woman moaning on the floor in agony, her intestines clearly showing; the back of Gordon’s skull blowing out; Joel pointing a gun at him, the look in his eyes while he tried to decide whether or not to pull the trigger…

It was as if those images were looped together to play endlessly in his head. Even when he opened his eyes he would see them. They would linger like ghosts in the dark before fading away.

At some point, exhaustion took over. Then there was nothing, just a drifting along. He felt almost at peace then. After a short time he could hear a voice calling him. It sounded familiar. He tried to ignore it, but it was persistent.

“Jeez, Dan, turn around already.”

Sighing, he turned around. Gordon was waiting for him, but he didn’t look quite the same to Dan – smaller, older, a harshness to him, with none of the goofiness that Dan had come to associate with him.

“I always told you Joel was a weasel,” Gordon said.

“Joel’s not that bad-”

“Not that bad? That weasel blew my brains out!”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“What the fuck, what’s done is done.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m past that. What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jeez, Dan, you know what I mean. How are you going to get your cut from that weasel?”

“He’ll give it to me. He just needs a few days to cool off.”

“Not a chance. He’ll never give you a dime. You know that.”

“Maybe, I don’t know… Jesus, Gordon, what the hell happened in that bank?”

“Dan, that wasn’t my fault.”

“But you shot them.”

“You should’ve heard what they were saying to me. I mean, come on, Dan, you would’ve done the same thing if you had some snotty little bitch calling you a filthy disgusting pervert. Telling you that she’d rather be fucked by a pig than by you. What did you want me to do, just walk away?”

“Gordon, she was tied up, helpless. Yes, you should’ve just walked away.”

“Look, I’ve been walking away from cunts like that my whole life. I wasn’t going to do it this time – not while I’m holding a gun. Fuck her, fuck both of them. Anyway, I couldn’t walk away, not when Joel’s fat little friend’s standing there laughing at me.”

“What about the other woman?”

“Same thing. She had the fucking nerve to tell me that she hoped I’d rot in hell for all eternity. I decided to give her something else to think about instead.”

Dan felt off-kilter. The person in front of him was Gordon, but it also wasn’t. There was a coldness to him, an emptiness. He seemed only a shell, a soulless version of the man Dan used to know. Nothing left in his eyes but bitterness and rage.

“Why’d you have to start talking to her?” Dan asked, a rush of anger choking his words. “You promised me. Jesus, Gordon, why’d you have to do that?”

“I was just goofing around, that’s all. Killing time, trying to be friendly. I didn’t see what the big deal was.”

“You didn’t see what the big deal was? We had so much at stake! What could you possibly have had to say that you thought she’d want to hear?”

“I was just telling her about Jersey and some interesting facts about Brazil, that’s all.”

“I got news for you, Gordon. Nobody cares about your interesting little factoids!”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“Then why, Gordon? Why did you have to jeopardize all of us over some mindless small talk?”

“Why?” His mouth closed while he thought it over. Then shrugging, he said, “I don’t know. What else was I going to talk to her about?”

“But why say anything?”

“Oh, come on, how many chances am I going to have to talk to a cute girl with a nice little ass like she had? And, Jeez, Dan, I’m holding a gun, I’m being polite, she should’ve just laid there and listened to me. Let me at least pretend that I had a chance of fucking the shit out of her – what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just until now I’ve never heard you swear before.”

“Yeah, well, I figure I’m dead, so what the fuck?”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like you.”

“Well, it is, Dan, and… why do you keep looking away? Do you have someplace else you’d rather be?”

“I guess I’m tired.”

“How can you be tired? You’re asleep after all.”

“I know, but I’m beat. Why don’t we call it a night.”

“You’re kidding, right? I mean, Dan, I’m dead. This might be the last chance we ever have to talk and you’re going to blow me off?”

“Gordon, I’m sorry, man, but I’m really beat.”

“Forget it. Fine. If that’s the way you want to be. But at least answer my question. The one you keep avoiding. How are you going to get your cut from that weasel? Because you’re royally fucked if you don’t.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“No you won’t. And you really are fucked, Dan. You realize the police will be calling you soon. They’re going to want to know why the bank’s security system didn’t work.”

“I know.”

“Are you prepared for it?”

“I think so.”

“Are you prepared for what’s going to happen when they realize I was one of the robbers?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Right now the police believe you were an innocent victim. There’s no reason for that to change.”

“There are plenty of reasons, Dan, as you well know. If you had your cut, you could make a run for it. But as things stand, you’re nothing but a sitting duck. If they connect me to the robbery, you’ll be next. And then you’re sunk. You’ll lose everything – Carol, your kids, your life. And for nothing. Because Joel won’t even give you a dime.”

“Gordon, I’ve had enough.”

“What do you mean you’ve had enough? Come on, just one more thing and then you’ll never have to hear from me again-”

“No, I’m serious, I’m done.”

Gordon’s mouth slowly closed. He stood staring at Dan, his eyes vacant, distant. Then his lips puckered up in an exaggerated display of self pity. His voice bitter, he swore, “Fuck you, anyway. I’m out of here!”

With that Gordon was gone.

Dan felt relieved, but also an emptiness. At some level, he knew he was only dreaming, but at the same time there was something odd about it. Almost as if there was an order and logic to it, not the chaotic and out-of-control feeling that his dreams usually had. Maybe that really was Gordon – the pure essence of him, anyway. An overflowing of self-loathing, bitterness, and rage.

Whether or not the police ever connected him to the robbery, he knew he had already lost everything. He had lost Carol, lost his children, and lost his future. At least at some level. What happened in that bank was his fault. Even if nobody ever found out about it, how could things ever be the same?

He had risked everything of value in his life for nothing. Realizing that, the emptiness inside him expanded until he felt completely hollow inside. As if his chest could be crumpled like tinfoil.

Carol woke him. His chest ached, his face felt sticky and wet. He realized he had been sobbing.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, choking back one last sob. “Nothing but a bad dream.”