Frank And The Boom

38. Frank and the Boom

Frank O’Connor sat his Chrysler, snow falling all around him filling up the Canada Trust parking lot. He started to remember his youngest daughter’s wedding dress. And then the wedding. Her fiancé got drunk and started to tell his future father-in-law what he really thought of Frank. Unfortunately the groom had mistaken the priest for Frank. The priest was ready to call off the wedding. Only Frank’s intervention saved the day. Frank stared across the blanket of snow at the old folks home and the van parked there.

Why were they there? How long would they remain? Would I end up in the old farts’ home? I know that’s where the kids want me. And the wife. God, I think she lost her mind ages ago. She does the same thing everyday and precisely at the same time. Like clock work. And she’ll continue that until she drops like one of those kids’ toys that keeps bashing against the wall until the battery dies.

Frank was listening to some old rock and roll. They were playing the Door’s The End. He’d forgotten how stupid the song was. Frank was about to make himself some hot chocolate when a face smashed against his door window.

“Shit!” Frank fumbled around looking for his keys. I’ve been spotted and they’d sent someone over to whack me. The cops had warned me. God, they might be all around me. Frank glanced from his lap to the window. The guy at the window had this stupid expression on his face, a cartoon expression like when Wiley Coyote runs into a cliff face.

“Psychopath!” Frank fumbled in his lap for his keys and grabbed his cock. “Shit!” Then he noticed that the keys were already in the ignition. He turned on the engine and gunned it. The Chrysler swirled in the parking lot, banged against a sign, and then peeled out into Bloor Street, swirled again, hitting a snow bank on the other curb and then tore off down Bloor Street. Frank made a quick decision and turned south, gunned it through the snow on the side street, hit Dundas Street and headed east. Moments later he was sitting in a snow bank in the parking lot of the Six Points Plaza. The wheels of the Chrysler spun crazily. He was stuck.

Frank swirled around in his seat, looking in every direction. There was no one around. He sat for a long time panting. His chest started to hurt. I’m having a fucking heart attack! He didn’t have enough breath to yell. Minutes passed. When Frank regained his breath, when the pain in his chest subsided, he tried to open the door. It wouldn’t open. He tried the other door. Snowed in. He crawled into the back seat and then recalled that the back doors hadn’t worked for months. Frank was marooned.

After climbing back into the front seat, Frank turned on the radio. Pennies From Heaven was playing. Calm down. Got to think. He listened to music for some time. A talk show came on. The talk show toasted started to rant on about the ice shields on Antarctica melting.

“This could cause dramatic changes in weather. If the water in the ocean rises only a couple of inches major cities along the coasts could see flooding. Most of New York will be under water. Boston as well. The Netherlands will disappear all together. The oceans will cool forcing the Gulf Stream to move south. Northern Europe will see Artic conditions. The Thames will freeze over. Tropical countries could see drought. Brazil will turn into a desert.”

A million thoughts raced through Frank’s head. If those fellas were going to find me, they’d be here by now. Frank decided that there was nothing to do but wait until the next morning. Surely someone would come in and find him. He had enough provisions. The generator still worked and he had a heater. Hell, I could last days here. He took his bottle from under the seat and took a sip. And then he took another sip. His eyes grew heavy. Frank did not know how much time had passed when he was awoken by an explosion. He looked out his window. Across the parking lot on Bloor Street a car was on fire. And then moments later there was a second explosion. The roof of the Canadiana Restaurant’s roof blew off. Smoke leaped out of the building like a tongue licking the falling snow. Debris came down on the Chrysler including dozens of bottles of wine that fell into the snow beside the Chrysler. Some were still unbroken. Frank was able to roll down his window enough to grab a couple of bottles.

“Hell, if the world’s going to end, I might as well get drunk.”

***

Jimmy Higgs let out a whoop. He pulled the loose bricks from the wall and shone a flashlight into the basement of the bank next door. When he turned around Montgomery had a gun pointed in his face. Guy stood beside her.

“Get that thing out of my face!”

“Sorry, Mr. Higgs,” Guy said apologetically. “But we don’t need you anymore.”

Jimmy looked from Guy to Montgomery and snarled.

“I get it, lad. Did she promise to suck your…”

A gun shot rang out. A small hole appeared in Jimmy Higgs forehead. For a brief second his eyes rose up to see a black snake crawl out of the hole. Jimmy was dead.

Guy looked at Montgomery with a puzzled expression on his face.

Montgomery looked from Jimmy to Guy.

“I didn’t like being called Crack,” Montgomery said.

***

Sam and Wendel followed Michael and David’s car up Kipling Avenue. The cop car was sliding all over the road.

“Should have put snow tires on her,” Sam said.

Wendel struggled to keep the car running straight. “I just had them taken off. Who the hell thinks you’re still going to need them in April? It’s all I can do to keep us on the street.”

“No need to catch them, Wendel. The way they’re driving they’ll run into something sooner or later.”

There was a call on the radio. Sam picked it up.

“Right on it,” he said, put back the radio, reached over and turned on the siren.

“What?”

“Emergency. Canadiana Restaurant.”

Wendel put the gas pedal to the floor.

***

“Fuck!” David said, turning at the sound of the siren to look back at the cop car. “They’re coming after us now.”

Michael laughed putting the gas pedal to the floor. “I love being a criminal.”

Their car sped up.

“We’re losing them,” David smiled. “Turn left up here at Bloor Street. We can head west to the 427.”

Michael glanced at the car that was headed south on Bloor Street. A dark skinned man was driving. What kind of fool is out on a night like this? The car slid sideways as Michael made the turn and climbed the slight incline toward the Six Points Plaza.

“Brother, construction signs up ahead!”

“Where?”

“The hole!” David cried, bracing himself.

The car hit the hole at an angle, its nose ducked into the side. In the collision David was thrown through the front window. As David passed over the hood of the car, he fumbled in his pocket. It looked like he was waving goodbye. Michael raised his head from the steering wheel. Blood ran down from his forehead. His chest ached. The car exploded.

***

When Wendel made the turn up Bloor Street towards the Six Points Plaza they saw the car ahead of them dive into the ground, it’s tail flipping up in the air. A moment passed. The car exploded. Wendel slammed on the brakes. The detective’s car slid toward the hole, now a cloud of smoke and fire. The car came to a stop.

“Jesus!” Wendel cried, his mouth dropping.

Sam opened his door and was about to get out when the Canadiana Restaurant exploded. The concussion of the blast threw Sam back into the car. Then debris rang down on the car. A bottle of wine smashed through their windshield.

***

Guy looked down at Jimmy Higgs. In death the big man looked small. He heard the sound of a baby crying.

“Did you hear that?” Guy said.

Montgomery leaned toward him. She kissed him on the lips. Guy felt the nozzle of her gun in his ribs.

“Why?” he asked.

“You can’t speak French.” Montgomery smiled.

Then Guy smelled something funny. Gas leak. I’m dead! Montgomery fired.

***

Willie Marcus put his son on his knee and took a book from the stack beside him. Willie loved this dream about having a family. He’d been having the same dream all night. He never wanted it to end. A moment later his daughter ran into the room. She wanted to sit on his lap and hear the story too. Willie picked up his daughter and put her on his other knee. “What story are you going to read us?” his son asked.” The Three Pigs”, he answered. His daughter squealed with delight. “I like that when the wolf blows down the straw house and then blows the house made of sticks down , but he can’t blow the house of …”

Willie woke up with a jolt from his dream.

“The hole!” he cried.