Past, Present, and Further More: A Book of Short Stories

By David Allen

This book contains three very different tales, all depicting the struggle and hardships of the world, (an abyss that is all too easy to fall into, and all too easy to find, but never easy to crawl out of.) What I offer in these pages are the hearts and souls of our fellow man, and a glimpse of how fragile we really are.

First Ill take you into the past, on a fast paced ride of drama, romance and revenge. Then, a present day nightmarish trip through dark and dreadful places that blacken the very spirit of the human condition, keeping you awake at night, afraid to close your eyes in that you may find yourself envisioning the terrors that can stir the very soul. But, what the future holds can whisk you away to a world where mankind faces the most dreaded fear of all, extinction.

So join me now as I carry you through the past, present and future, and experience the magic and mystery of the one thing that connects all three stories in a mystical way that can only be conceived in our wildest imagination; a medallion that somehow finds its way into all three eras, ruining lives, breeding the unholy and fathering creation.

Prepare to journey into The Past, Present and Further More.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 17, 2008
• ISBN: 9781467834254

David Allen

David Allen is an international author, lecturer, and founder and Chairman of the David Allen Company, a management consulting, coaching, and training company. His two books, Getting Things Done and Ready for Anything were both bestsellers. He is a popular keynote speaker on the topics of personal and organizational effectiveness.

Book preview

© 2008 David Allen. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 3/11/2008

ISBN: 978-1-4343-5514-0 (sc)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

THE FAVOR

DREAMSCAPES

IN THE WORKS

THE FAVOR

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In a New York minute your whole life can be turned upside down and spun like a top, leaving you dizzy and uncertain of what path to take and what road to travel. One minute, things can be going so well, you’d never imagine a more perfect day. On the other hand, just one arrogant prick is all it takes to loom in the back of your mind like a bad hangover, leaving you in a whirlwind of anger and irritability, until your head finally hits the pillow at night. Sometimes you even lose sleep trying to figure out what you might have done to deserve such unsavory treatment, when you’re just trying to do your job to the best of your ability like everyone else. New York is full of some of the most disagreeable people you could ever cross paths with. It takes only one to change the course of your life forever, to taunt you spiritually and mentally, until your last day in this endless tailspin of a hustle and bustle world. Cornelius Redman learned this indisputable fact only minutes after Tony De Giovanni stepped into his cab on the corner of Broadway and 42nd Street.

It was the last fare for the night, before Cornelius could finally retire his taxi to the lot and go home, leaving Julio to continue the next shift. Had he recognized the man hailing to him from the side of the street, he would’ve just kept on driving and thanked his lucky stars not to get stuck at a red light on that particular corner. As fate should have it, he stopped to pick the man up; seeing his expensive suede suit and Ferragamo shoes, he figured he’d probably get a decent tip before turning in.

The moment the man stepped off the curb, Cornelius recognized his passenger instantly. He’d seen his face on the front page of every newspaper in the tri-state area. The headlines read, Bookie Accused of Laundering Blood Money and, Bloodbath in the Bronx.

De Giovanni had managed to evade every charge known to man, slipping through the law’s fingers like a lathered bar of soap. And now he was slipping into the back seat of Cornelius’ cab. Cornelius cursed himself for not being cautious or observant enough, not to take a closer look at the man before pulling over. Too late, Tony’s fingers reached the door handle, and in he was, slamming the door against the throng of passer-bys.

Where to? Cornelius asked, trying on his most fearless of faces.

Brooklyn. the man replied, rolling the two syllables off his tongue as though it was the name of one of his own children.

Cornelius continued to drive. He tried not to make eye contact with his clean cut and polished passenger, let alone small talk. He hadn’t the slightest desire to know his business. He knew too much already from what he saw in the papers and television. Tony De Giovanni, the infamous bookie, sitting right behind him, near enough to taste his overpowering aftershave. Tony shifted forward in his seat to get a look at the nameplate that hung from the cracked leather upholstery in front of him. His pant legs rubbed together, making a sound like a cricket when he moved.

You know your way around Brooklyn, Cornelius?

Yes sir. Cornelius said, What part we goin’?

The Heights, the man replied, Pier five.

Cornelius knew this area well. He spent some time there in his teen years, drinking and hanging out with his friends. They used to fish off the docks in the summer time, bringing home coolers full of fish and crabs, which his father used to cook on the grill. He also knew the area to be a pretty rowdy neighborhood, full of gangs and drug dealers. Even now, in 1967, there was plenty reason enough to be cautious in those parts. Most people just had the good sense to stay clear. Of course, Tony was not the average sort, and Cornelius had no doubt that he probably came well prepared. Never in his thirty-two years had he heard of a man of Tony’s stature who walked the streets without a concealed weapon, and Tony was certainly no exception.

Cornelius tried to think of the fastest route to Brooklyn, to get this man out of his presence as quickly as possible. He stopped at a red light on the corner of 50th and saw a young hoodlum approaching the car from the right hand side. His clothes were soiled and several sizes too large. He looked to be up to no good, so Cornelius reached over to lock the door, but he wasn’t fast enough. The man’s gritty fingers found the handle and pulled the door open. In his other hand was a small knife. The thug shoved Cornelius’ head back against the drivers side window and put the knife to his throat, and then told the them to hand over their money or he’d kill them both. The knife was pressed against his neck so hard, he could feel a warm drop of blood trickle down his skin. Cornelius raised his trembling hands in surrender, trying not to look at the thief.

Okay, okay, here man, just take it. Cornelius said, as he reached around to his back pocket to pull out his wallet, keeping his other hand raised and in plain sight.

Suddenly a shot rang out from the back seat, as the windshield and dashboard were covered in the mugger’s blood. The knife dropped from Cornelius’ throat as the young man slumped over onto his lap. Tony reached over the seat and pulled the hoodlums legs into the car, then he slammed the door shut and told Cornelius to drive. Cornelius just sat there shaking and stunned, as the light turned green and the traffic around him began to press forward. Tony could see a police officer on the opposite side of the road, blowing his whistle with his hand high, as he raced across the busy intersection. Tony raised his pistol and pressed it against Cornelius’ temple.

Are you deaf nigger? I said fucking drive!

Cornelius did as he was told. He stepped on the gas peddle as the gun remained on the side of his head. He could hear the cop yelling for him to stop, in between the horns blowing behind him. Now he could feel a warm pool forming between his legs, and wasn’t sure if it was the mugger’s blood, his own urine, or both. He began to feel faint as his pulse quickened. His blood swirled around in his head like a whirlpool. He pleaded with the man in the back seat to let him pull over for just a moment to get this man’s face off his lap. Just drive, was the reply. Cornelius imagined that every face he passed was looking at him with conviction, aware of what he’d just done. He drove as cautiously as he possibly could, trying to avoid any further attention.

You’re doing very well Mr. Redman. Just make this next right, and we’re home free.

Cornelius made the turn and continued on for about a half a mile, when Tony finally pulled the gun away from his temple and slipped it back into the holster that was concealed beneath his left arm. Then the bookie reached over and pulled the dead man off of Cornelius’ lap, and positioned him upright in the seat with his face turned away from the window. Tony knew there was no need to display his pistol again. It would only draw attention. Cornelius seemed to be smart enough not to try anything stupid, so the weapon remained out of sight for the duration of the trip.

When they reached the piers Tony instructed him to turn off his headlights before turning onto the docks. Cornelius could see a few black cars parked a little further down. Next to them was a rundown wooden building with a light glowing in one of the windows.

Go slowly. Tony said, as he looked around the perimeter. Once he decided the coast was clear, he said, This is good, stop here.

He leaned over and placed his hand on Cornelius’ shoulder, congratulating him on a job well done, and then drew his pistol again and pointed it at his side.

I could have just let this man take your money and have his way with you, he said, But out of the kindness of my heart, I spared your life. The way I see it, you owe me one. Don’t you agree?

Of course he didn’t. He’d been robbed before, a few times in fact. He was used to that by now, but he didn’t dare argue with this man. Instead, he just simply nodded, and said, Yes sir.

You’re a smart fellow Mr. Redman. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, he said snidely, then opened the door, exited, and quietly shut it behind him. Then he opened the front passenger door and pulled the body from the front seat, letting its bulk slump to the wooden boards below. He poked his slick head in the car and said, Consider this another favor Mr. Redman. Maybe that’s two you owe me. He was about to close the door and turn away, then leaned in again, and said, Don’t wander off too far. You wouldn’t want to make it difficult for me to find you when the time comes. Just remember our agreement. Tony smirked as he gingerly shut the door, trying not to make too much noise.

Was he sneaking up on some unfortunate victim, maybe some competitors that he was going to surprise with a hail of bullets? Cornelius expected so, not that he cared to know the details. He was just relieved to finally part from this man’s company. He put the car in reverse and rolled back into the street. All the while, Tony stood there and watched him make his exit, gun still in hand. Cornelius managed to make his way to the street without any further confrontation. He got about a block or so before turning his lights back on. Once safely away, he let out a long sigh of relief, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Now the question was what to do about the blood. Cornelius couldn’t go to the police, it was too risky. He couldn’t tell his boss about the incident either, that would raise too many questions. Even though he really didn’t care for his boss, he didn’t wish to put him in any danger. Maybe Julio would be willing to help him cover up. After all, they’ve known each other for a long time, and Cornelius had bailed him out of trouble in the past.

When he finally arrived at the lot, it was a little after twelve. Julio was standing outside smoking a cigar, and raised his arms to the sky as he pulled the car up next to him. Cornelius rolled down the window and gestured him over to the driver’s side window.

Harry’s been looking for you man, where the hell you been? Julio asked. His shift was supposed to start at eleven.

Sorry pal, I ran into some trouble. Then Cornelius leaned out the window and whispered to his friend that he was going to be in much deeper trouble, and needed some help, fast. Now Julio could see the dark stains on the upholstery and told him to pull around to the back. Cornelius ran inside to check in with the boss while Julio gathered some cleaning supplies and rags from the garage.

Cornelius apologized to Harry for being so late, then he lied and told him that Julio took the cab and left.

This is the second time this month you came back late. Harry said, You think I like paying your partner to sit around with his thumb up his ass?

No sir, Mr. Fitzgerald. I won’t let it happen again.

Damn right, and what the hell is that crap all over your pants anyway?

Cornelius had forgotten about the stains on his clothes in all the confusion, but he was quick enough to reply, Tomato soup. I hit a bump and spilled some on myself.

Well go home and clean up, you’re a mess.

Yes sir.

Oh, and one more thing before you go. Apparently you made a good impression today. Some old lady called here a little while ago to praise the young man who returned her purse this evening. Harry smiled a crooked grin, and said, You didn’t have to lie kid, I know that’s why you were running late.

Yes Mr. Fitzgerald, thank you.

She asked for your address so she could send you a reward, so you’ll be receiving a bonus in the mail soon. Harry grinned again and returned to his desk without another word.

As Cornelius left the office, it occurred to him that he had not picked up any old women today, nor did he find any lost bags. Maybe the old woman had confused him with someone else. There were plenty of young black drivers in this city. Then again, there was a good chance that Tony De Giovanni had convinced someone to make the call for him, just to get his address. Would he really have gone through all the trouble? He probably would.

Cornelius went around back to the garage to help Julio with the blood. He found Julio scrubbing, and startled him when he approached.

Sorry, he said, Any luck?

This ain’t coming out man. What the hell happened?

"Take my word for it Julio, you don’t want to know."

Cornelius picked up a rag and soaked it in some cleaner, and then climbed into the car and helped his friend sop up the stains. It took about two hours before they finally managed to get the worst of it cleaned up, and still it was very noticeable. Julio had to cover the wet seats with some towels so he could do his job tonight without anybody seeing the gruesome mess underneath. Cornelius thanked his friend and gave him a wad of cash to compensate for the lost hours. Then he left the lot and headed