Beyond the Wildwood: A Collection of the Creative by Benjamin X. Wretlind

Author:Benjamin X. Wretlind [Wretlind, Benjamin X.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Short Stories, nonfiction, Poetry
Publisher: Genius...
Published: 2023-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

5

The cold air outside felt fresh and wonderful, especially after the fetid, moldy smell and stifling heat of the casino floor. Nathan stood across the street from the Spanish Mustang, trying to disembark from the emotional roller coaster that had been taking him for a ride over the past few minutes. He smacked his lips, still tasting the remnant bile stuck to his teeth. The image of Rudy’s face—wide-eyed and full of shock as vomit dripped down the front of that ugly silver suit—was interminably etched in Nathan’s head. He let a sly smile creep across his face before wiping it away with the brush of a hand.

So the bomb was gone, the cheap trigger in his pocket now worthless. Sure, he could dive through the dumpster in the alley and retrieve his well-designed weapon, try again tomorrow; but the moment had passed, the plan had failed. After all the effort put into setting up the perfect revenge, the rage that had fueled Nathan James for the past few weeks had just been expelled in one quick spasm of his stomach. He was empty inside, the shell of a man. In his pocket, he had enough money to make the trip to Nogales and cross the border, but even that seemed like a foolhardy plan.

Nathan turned and walked down the sidewalk of Bennett Avenue past the rows of false-fronted buildings with their colonial swags of pressed metal under ornate cornices, their randomness of design. He looked around, hands stuffed into the pockets of his twill coat. He didn’t have any direction in mind, just a vague sense that he should walk. Maybe the walk would clear his head and allow him some semblance of peace, a peace he hadn’t known since . . . since . . . .

Nathan paused for a moment on the sidewalk. He’d never found peace. All of his life had been mired in reckless abandon, one event after another. He had never given himself time to simply sit down and let it all go. From a childhood spent wandering the streets through his teenage years of causing mayhem to neighbors, there was no respite from activity. In his twenties, he’d worked his fingers to the bone for a company that didn’t like his exploratory attitude toward explosives or his initiative. Even in marriage, there was no peace. He’d spent years trying to make Nora happy, hoping she would appreciate what he did for them, for her. When did he ever find the time to exist as Nathan James and examine his well-worn life? When did he make the time?

A disheveled man in a tattered green checkered flannel shirt smelling of cheap whiskey and tangy offal brushed by Nathan. He turned to watch as the figure stumbled up the slight incline of the street. Thomas Tweed. If Cripple Creek had guttersnipes, Tweed would be their king. The man mumbled something under his breath as he pushed up the sidewalk. He perked his head up to the right and mumbled something again.

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