Behind the Clouds II

                
                                                    Behind the Clouds II

                                                                                               by- Peter Cooper
                                                                                           www.petercooper.biz


                    Once Rob realized that Steve, Carrie and Christine  were no longer in the Cut Throat, he rushed outside to see if Steve's car was there. It was gone. Rob knew Steve better than anyone else. Better than Steve's deceased parents, better than any of his girlfriends, better than any of his teachers, coworkers, aquaintances, and better than Steve himself. Most importantly, Rob knew Steve psychologically, and Rob knew that his friend was having a psychological break.  Steve was prone to violence and tonight Rob noticed that his friend, was much more detached and distant than he had ever seen him.  He went back inside and told Freddy and Jason (facedown at the bar) that he was leaving. Rob quickly went over to Laurie and said
 "I need your help". 
 It made sense since she was the only one sober.
"Ask anyone you can if they had seen Steve, Carrie and Christine right before they left and if      they mentioned where they were going. I'm going to make some phone calls." Rob said.
"Alright, I'll see what I can find out." Laurie said.
                    Rob went back outside and halfway down the block to a payphone in order to avoid all the commotion in and around the Cut Throat, hugging the sides of the buildings to avoid the rain as he did so. He arrived at the payphone, which was exposed to the rain and without a care picked up the reciever. He quickly dialed in his calling card code and number, while having to listen to the voice recording telling him how he could save more money on his car insurance by switching to Geico, which seemed like forever and a day. Finally the recording indicated to him that it was the appropriate time to dial.(fucking recordings)
                    Rob dialed in his teacher's number quicker than Mae West at a male strip joint. A voice mail came through saying
"You have reached the emergency contact of Dr. Damien Horn. State your emergency and I will return your call most urgently."
 Dr. Horn is the head of psychology department at Rutgers University, and Rob is his best, brightest and closest student. He informed Rob that if he ever needed anything to give him a call.          
                "Dr. Horn, I have to talk to you about a friend of mine, who I have reason to believe, is going to commit a brutal, cold-hearted and ruthless crime if we don't get to him quick. He is having a psycotic break and appears to be on stimulants, and also drank a great deal tonight. He's also got two females with him and I believe they are in danger. Please call me back on my cell."
 Just as soon as Rob headed back towards the Cut Throat, his phone rang.
"Dr. Horn?!"
 "Yes. What seems to be the problem kid? Are you in trouble?" Dr. Damien asked in his
quintessential flat but inflected speech pattern. 
 "Dr. Horn, I have a real bad hunch about something tonight. Remember when you taught us that instinct and perception is just as important, if not more so than rationality and theory?"      "Yes."     
"Well... I have developed that instinct and perception very sharply wouldn't  you say?"      "Yes."    
"Ok. Tonight I know something very messy is going to happen, and it involves my best friend and two girls." 
"How can I help?"   
"I need you to pull some strings and make some calls and get on this."   
"Robert. In order for me to help you out, I need you to tell me what we are dealing with." Dr. Horn said a bit more forcefully now. His tone darkening.
"I need you to tell me precisely what the case is, so that I can make an accurate asessment of the situation at hand and report it to the necessary individuals in a swift, accurate and timely manner."  
"I know Doc. Alright here it is."  We have a twenty-two year old male, wearing black jeans and a black shirt, medium length jet black hair, blue eyes and driving a black 1977 Camaro. It should be easy to spot. He is six feet;two inches tall and weighs two hundred and twenty pounds. He is prone to violence and it appears that he is on a stimulant of some kind. Probably cocaine or amphetamines. I have been with him this evening and he has also smoked pot and drank heavy."           
           "Not to nit-pick Robert, but does this man have a name?" 
"Yes sir. Sorry sir. Steve Vittola is the name."   
"Any relatives?"      
"No sir. Not that I am aware of. He has no siblings and his parents are deceased.  To the best of my knowledge, each of his parents were only children and his  grandparents are deceased. The girls he has with him are both voluptuous and  are both long haired brunettes.  One is wearing black laced-up boots to the knee and a red one piece pull-over dress. Her name is Christine.  I do not know the last names of the girls, but I can find out in a minute. A friend of the girls is       here with me and she can give you full detailed information about them."     
"Put her on the phone." 
"Let me call you back in a few minutes. She is in the bar we were at, asking questions and I am down the block outside, in order for me to hear you."
"Ok, but listen to me Robert. Call me directly on the emergency line again. All incoming calls on that line are patched through to The Department of Mental Health, which is why it is always screened before I call back. Everything you told me is being monitered and I'm glad it is. The information you gave is already being looked into."    
"Thanks Doc. I'll call you back in a few." 
"Good. In the meantime we will get a track on this friend of yours." 
                The phone clicked and Rob Piletto acknowledged that Dr. Damien Horn was indeed a    good friend to know. Water was flowing freely in the gutters and people were crammed  in all of the cafe's, pubs and clubs on West fourth. Whoever wasn't, was headed quickly for the subway or their cars. The streets were clearing one way or another. As Rob was  walking briskly back to the Cut Throat, he had a sudden feeling that he had betrayed  his friend.
(After all, Steve and I have known each other since we played little league together. We have been through many ups and downs to say the least, and his eratic, impulsive behavior has only manifested itself recently) Rob thought to himself in the rain which was now a downpour.                        
              Rob remembered the look on Steve's face at his parent's wake back in '99. Both had been brutally stabbed in their sleep by an unknown assailant. Steve witnessed the whole thing while under his bed across the hall of their home. He had his loaded .357 under lock and key under the bed, but by the time he was awakened by the sound of his mother's loud gurgling (blood was filling her lungs and her throat had been cut) and his father's muffled screams (a rag was stuffed in his mouth while being sliced from  the anus up to the breast bone) it was to late. He could not get the box unlocked in time. The killer left quickly out of the bedroom window.      Rob remembered the pale, blank stare that Steve exhibited and that he did not shed a tear. It seemed as if he were in another dimension. He also remembered saying to Steve
"Just give it time. You will never get over this loss, but with lots of time you will get back to living your life as your parent's would want you to. To which Steve replied coldly
"Wait and see."     
                  As Rob approached the Cut Throat, Laurie came out front looking for him.
"I was wondering what happened to you." Laurie exclaimed.   
"I just got off the phone with a good friend of mine. I gave him the run down of what's going on, but he needs to speak with you so you can give him all you know about Carrie and Christine. Background, favorite color, everything. By the way, did you find out anything from someone inside?" 
"Not much. A few people confirmed that they saw him leave with Christine and Carrie though. They didn't have any information on where they were going" Laurie said.  
"Alright, that's good enough. At least we have witnesses eyeballing them leave together. I am going to get Dr. Horn on the horn and he's going to ask you questions.  Trust him and trust me ok?"    
"Ok."    
             Rob dialed and spoke with him for some time, giving the doctor all of the information she could regarding her friends. Hair color, skin color eye color, favorite color. Everything. After hanging up she turned to Rob and asked
"What do we do now?    
"I'm going to look for him. I have the best idea of the places that he may go. That is, if by some miracle you have a car, and if so, that you drove it here, and if that is the case you will let me borrow it."
"Yes, yes and yes" Laurie said."I was DD tonight so here are the keys. I'll walk  you to it."             As they walked up to, and around Washington Square Park, Robert got goosebumps, as the car he was going to drive happened to be parked in the spot next to where  Steve's car was parked. He looked at the empty space for a moment(which seemed like hours to him) and was truly creeped out. It was symbolic to him. 
           "I gave Dr. Horn my cell. He told me to stay at the Cut Throat in case of anything."       Laurie said.       
"Good. I hope everything turns out alright." Rob said.    
"Good luck Rob."      
 "Thanks. I'm afraid I'm going to need it."
 Rob started up the Jeep Wrangler and headed off into the dark, desolate, rainy New York twilight looking for Steve. 
                      After driving for ten minutes Christine and Carrie started to feel drugged.       "Steve, I don't feel so good." Christine said.
"Me neither." added Carrie."Can you just take us home and call it a night?" Carrie continued slowly and pleadingly.  
"The reason you don't feel good is because I put some narcotics in your drinks and if you were smart enough you would have seen it. Too bad your nothing but a pair of stupid cunts. Now shut the fuck up and take what I feed you bitch." Steve said, softly cackling as he did so.   
It was at this point that Chrisitne and Carrie knew they were in grave danger. They had seen the madness in the eyes, and to make matters worse, they were starting  to drift into another place now. Steve was almost at the lower east side when he turned the radio on to hear the news, and also turned on his newly installed police scanner. Nothing.
                       He turned onto east second street which was deserted at the moment. (The rain washes away the stank that the skanks put forth in this putrid city) Steve thought to himself, when suddenly that thought was interupted by the nose of a .22 to the back of his head.             The adrenaline in Carrie's bloodstream was now fighting off some of the effects of the drug that Steve slipped in her drink. Barely. She still had the presence of  mind to know that she was in a world of hurt right now but was in the back seat where Steve could not get a good look at her.
                      As quickly as she pulled the .22 out of her purse, she just as quickly cocked the hammer and said "Make a fucking move and I'll repaint this piece of shit with your twisted brains." Christine's conscience was also being brought back to the surface as this was occuring. She went into her purse and pulled out a can of mace.
"If you move I'll burn the eyes out of your dead skull before she gets a chance to repaint this piece of shit with your brains." she said. 
                        As intoxicated as the girls were, Steve was much worse. This was not the first       time he had a gun to the back of his head, but it was the first while this messed up. It was why he stopped the car. He absolutely could not maneuver the vehicle. The narcotics were hitting the girls quick and hard now, and they knew that if something was not done soon, they may cease to exist come sunrise. Neither one of them was in any condition(nor was it safe for them) to get out and seek help. They were in a shady part of the city, and monsters lurk in the shadows waiting for prey such as themselves.  
                       Christine sprayed Steve in the face with the can of mace. It felt as if his skin was peeling off of his skull, and in blind desperation reached out and grabbed Christine by the throat. She sprayed him again and he vomited, but still had a vice-like grip on her windpipe. One good hard squeeze and it would be curtains for her. Carrie was in a stupor as all of this seemed like a movie playing in her head,  momentarily realizing that this was reality.
                         Christine sprayed yet again and Steve's  grip loosened slightly, but the other hand came in a powerful sweeping flash and cracked Christine on the bridge of her nose.
"Cunt! Fucking cunt!" Steve bellowed, and repeated the blows to Christine's face, when the pain ripped through his shoulder, and his ears suddenly went deaf after Carrie shot him. He slumped over to the floorboards when another shot ripped into his leg. His torso was in the floorboards on top of Christine's legs, with his legs splayed over the driver's seat. Blood was seeping out of Steve's shirt and jeans.
                        He was mumbling incoherently. Blood was pouring from Chritine's nose, where       he had caused the bone to protrude from the skin. Carrie passed out from a haze of alcohol, narcotics and shock. Twenty minutes later Carrie came to from the sounds of the police scanner saying,
" We've got'em. East second and first." 
Moments later the doors to the Camaro were jerked open by a pair of New York's finest.
                                        

 
                                                                            Epilogue


             They immediately called for an ambulance. Steve was taken into custody at the ER(the gunshot wounds were not fatal) and given twenty-five years in Attica for attemted murder, drug and weapons charges and assault. Carrie and Chrisitne gave their testimonies and eventually went on with their lives. Rob severed his relationship with Steve and eventually got his Phd in psychology. Jason became a bouncer at the Cut Throat and Freddy still lives with his parents.