Radioman (A 2/19th Spinoff) - Complete

In the Dark & Cold

"The rock," I stated again.

He rolled on his side, gagging and coughing up whiskey reeking vomit, his hands going back to his throat. I reached down, putting my palm against the side of his head, and pushing hard. I felt a couple of vertebrae shift, popping loud enough to hear over the thunder.

I gave him a few seconds to clear his bruised windpipe and get air into his lungs, staring down at him, my hand against his face. He let go of his throat, grabbing the edge of the table as if to prevent me from throwing him off the table.

I could see his pulse hammering on the side of his neck.

"I don't know," he tried.

I rolled him back on his back, reaching down and wrapping my hand around his neck again. I squeezed as lightning flashed in the clouds, and kept the pressure up till I heard the thunder. That's when I let him go, letting him cough and choke. All he did was claw at my arm and kick at the table I had him pinned on.

"The rock," I tried again.

"You can't do this," he gagged.

"The rock," I said, putting pressure on his neck again.

He struggled again and I waited till his eyes rolled back. He'd only be out for a few minutes, so I hurried, scooping up slush and dumping it onto his chest.

By the time his eyes opened he was shivering bad.

"You're dying," I told him, wrapping my hand around his throat again. "Now, the rock."

"Gail. Gail Keagan," he shivered. "You can't..."

why do they always say that?

I choked him out again, letting him slap and claw at my arm. I would have hurt, maybe, if it wasn't for the denim and the fact that I was beyond feeling pain. Even discomfort from the slush on bare hands just dissolved and poured into the hole inside of me.

I cocked my head, staring at him, as he came back to consciousness, shivering, his face pale and his lips bluish. He was going out, slowly. I was fine with that. No, that isn't right.

I didn't care.

"Who threw it?" I asked him.

"I have a daughter," he gasped.

rats have children too

"Who threw it?" I asked him again.

"Wally. Wally Erickson," He choked, then started coughing.

I walked over and pulled open his back door. The warmth spilled out and over me as I stared inside. I threw the curtain to the side, then turned back.

"No, please," he said as I came back. "Not my daughter. Please."

I grabbed his wet shirt, dragging him into the house. I could see the heroin rig on the coffee table, the whitish gray powder in the baggie. I let him go, letting him fall on the floor, moving over to the table with his phone. I opened the white pages, went through them, memorizing the address real quick.

"You have a daughter," I said, a half question, as I dropped him on the kitchen floor.

He nodded choking.

"If I come back, I kill you in front of her," I told him, staring down at him, putting my hands in my pockets. I put my foot on his wrist. "I till take your syringe and jam the needle through your eye and into your fucking brain. I will then tell her that Daddy was bad. Do you understand?"

He nodded, still gagging.

I turned away, walking outside, taking the time to slide the glass door behind me.