The Executioner

Seventy-Seven

Earlier the same morning

Despite feeling tired, he had almost no sleep during the night. The loud and constant noises that came from the adjacent room jolted him awake every time he dozed off. He should be used to them by now. Strangled male voices roaring like wounded animals accompanied by squeaky female ones screaming, ‘Harder, baby, harder.’ Those sounds invaded his room every night. At times he’d be forgiven for thinking he’d woken up during a typical Californian earthquake. The thunderous banging against his walls shook the entire room. For some reason last night’s screams sounded louder, the banging more urgent, almost violent. And it didn’t stop until way past five in the morning.

He left the seedy hotel early, as he did every day. His first stop was always the small Catholic church just a couple of blocks from where he was staying. He found it insulting that such a dirty and sleazy hotel used by prostitutes and drug pushers could be so close to a place of worship. Once he’d found what he was looking for, he’d never set foot in this city again. This was no city of angels; this was the city of sins. The city of devils.

By nine in the morning the temperature was no higher than fifty-three. Most of the people on the streets were wearing coats with their collars high around their necks. An unshaven man in a stained T-shirt and ripped jacket was sitting by the entrance to a disused shop trying to hide from the wind. He scratched his expanding stomach and drank from a bottle in a brown paper bag. Their eyes met and the tramp extended his hand, hoping for some charity. The man felt a surge of anger crawl up his spine, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around the oddly shaped metal crucifix in his pocket, fighting the urge to punch and kick the beggar until he bled. They must’ve stared at each other for half a minute. The man felt the skin on the palm of his hand rupture as the edges of the crucifix dug into his flesh. His hand became sticky with blood.

‘Thank you, Lord,’ he whispered to himself before finally breaking eye contact with the drunken man and forcing himself to carry on walking.

He stood by the side of the road waiting for the lights to turn red. Traffic was urgent. His throat felt dry and he massaged his neck, rotating his head from left to right. He caught a glimpse of something on the newspaper stand and went rigid. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He felt his whole body shiver and his heart hammer the inside of his chest with incredible ferocity. God was on his side, he was now certain of it.