THE SOUND OF DEATH… (AKA -- The Reluctant Hitman)
"You never forget, that last sound someone makes -- right before they die… Not the screaming in pain, cries of agony.., begging and pleading -- but that very last sound as they exhale for the very last time.., that last breath, as any remaining life leaves the body -- Ahhhh… I can remember the first time I heard it.., and although it was barely audible, it echoed, vibrated through my whole body -- FREAKY! Granted, it was the first time I took a life.., my first hit. And after about 5 or 6 more.., I realized, no matter the circumstance, the method of killing, the cause of death, they all made that same sound -- Ahhhh…"
That was the last entry in my Dads journal.., that he read to my brothers and I, when he learned of his own impending death… Each night leading to his death, we would gather 'round like a normal family.., and listen to one of these entries, written in what was now a pile of worn leather bound journals. And if he was too weak to read, myself or one of my brothers would read that nights recollection, of someones last moments on earth…
Let me get something straight.., my father was a great man -- to me, my brothers and our mother… He was an amazing Dad and thoughtful husband --* he kept his business completely separate from us… I mean, he knew, that we knew.., what he did for a living -- we heard the gruesome stories that would circulate when another body turned up -- the last victim of "The Iceman." We never saw that side of our Dad -- the only time I ever saw him lose his temper, was in a "road rage" incident with me and my brothers in the car, when some maniac cut us off almost causing our car to crash, then the guy has the balls to get out of his car like a madman -- he starts banging on the hood of our car screaming -- "I'LL KILL YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY" he was totally out of control… My Dad just looked at us kids with a big smile on his face -- "Don't worry, I'll be right back…"
What my Dad didn't realize was.., we weren't freaking out because we thought this guy was threat or could hurt our Dad -- quite the opposite.., we were afraid of what our Dad was going to do to this asshole… It's impossible to be the child of one of the most prolific hit men to ever walk this earth -- and not know he is capable of some bad shit!
He could see we were a little freaked out.., and there was no-way he was going to let his children be exposed the violence that lived inside of him… He never once raised his hands -- he got out of the car, looked the directly in the eyes.., and I don't know what he said to this crazy man, but the guy immediately started apologizing -- and ran back to his car, peeling out off the shoulder of the road…
I can tell you for a fact, each one of us in that car -- his children.., were expecting him to kill the guy… We all thought we were about to witness our own father commit murder -- right before our eyes… And what does he do -- not even lift a finger.., and the whole matter was handled in literally 15-20 seconds… It only confirmed to me.., how much larger than life he was to me -- never once did I see him ever make the wrong decision.., never once did he disappoint me. And now, we are sitting here like the Brady Bunch listening to how this man we all looked up to, so much -- this God, read the latest entry to the mound of journals piled on the floor, describing the most horrific details to his latest hit -- it was surreal…
Night after night, he read out loud about -- stabbings, shootings, stranglings, beatings -- right up until their moment of death… It was extremely rough to listen to sometimes, but it was something that had to be done… But also, in those beat up, worn down journals.., was how he felt about each life he ever took --
I know it sounds crazy to expect anyone to have pity for a man that killed people for a living (and was good at it).., but if you could have heard the pain in his voice, as he recalled murder after murder, hit after hit… Before each hit, he would actually try to talk his present employer -- out of it… Before every hit he ever did, he made sure he gave the target every chance at an out -- until there were no more… And how every month for the last 40 years a large amount of cash was deposited into the bank account of his first victims wife -- his childrens education paid for --
How he swore, to keep his family protected and separate from all the killing… Like I said earlier, he knew, we knew -- but before he died he wanted us to hear it all, from his own mouth… And as we got to the last entry in what seemed like a never-ending pile of journals, we all sat on the edge of our seats, waiting to hear the last of these fantastically gruesome killings… But this, his last entry into a journal, something he obviously took very seriously -- I think it was his way of living with it, all the lives he was responsible for cutting short, he released them on the pages of these journals, but made a marker.., so they would never be forgotten…
Instead of more killing.., he went to the beginning -- he spoke about the first man he ever killed… It was a fellow gangster, a hit man -- just like him.., with 3 children and a wife and the wrong employer. It was unusual to have your first hit, be another hitman -- there's some thing, some "unsaid law" among hit men.., that when you get the call to take out a colleague -- you do it quick, you do it up close.., and you stay until it's finished. He never forgot, after all the death this man was responsible for, he never forgot what his first victims last words were -- they haunted him, actually -- "You got me first, good for yo… -- " and then that sound… He motions for us all to come closer and with his final words -- and a journal entry that would have to be entered by me, his only daughter.., he puts his arms around us and says -- "I hope you know I loved you all.., and LISTEN, LISTEN, here it comes -- Ahhhh…"
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