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  • Jeff Bacon

Bourbon Street

You can always find what you want on Bourbon Street. I sat at a table sipping on aged scotch while waiting for my guest. He found me through a mutual friend. He wasn’t looking for a good time. He searched for revenge. It was my policy to vet my customers before meeting with them. This man’s name was Allen. He had lost his family to a home invasion in Alabama. It seemed he wouldn’t play ball with a local hotshot politician, and his punishment was to watch his family die.


I wondered if he would pay the price for revenge? Revenge is expensive. The problem is revenge doesn’t resolve feelings or give closure. Revenge is simple justice in its truest form. I watched Allen walk sporadically through the crowd as he made his way to my table. Allen pulled out a chair and sat down.


“Are you the…”


“I am the guy you’re looking for, Allen. You look like a nice guy. Are you sure you want to go through with this?” I lifted my glass and shook it at the server. The server came to my table. “Just bring the bottle, a cup of ice, and another glass, please.”


Allen waited until the server had left for the bar. “I don’t drink.”


I nodded my head. “You need to start. The road you’re going down will not be easy.”


Allen’s head bobbed. “I know what I’m asking and have accepted your price. One hundred years of servitude and one hundred years of apprenticeship.”


The server came back with my order. She poured the scotch into my glass first, then Allen’s glass. She turned and left to serve her other customers.


“Allen, do you understand your life will be severed from the world, you know? You will no longer be human. It will damn your soul for eternity. You cannot change your mind and the change is permanent.”


Allen pulled his shirt down and extended his neck. “I accept the price and am ready.”


I threw my head back. “Put your neck back into your shirt. This isn’t a cheap movie. It doesn’t work that way.” I pointed my little finger out as a claw extended out. I held my wrist over his drink as I slit it with my claw. The blood dripped into the glass. I handed Allen the glass. “Drink this. Don’t leave a drop in the glass. You will wake up in the cemetery after three full moons. I will fetch you then.”


Allen looked at the glass. “I drink this, and you kill everyone on that list I gave you?”


“That’s the way this works.”


Allen threw the drink into the back of his mouth and swallowed. He sat the glass down on the table. “There, it’s done.”


I looked at Allen. He had all the determination, but lacked some very simple knowledge. “Allen, what do you remember about the night your family died?”


“I remember feeling the blow from behind. I saw brief images of those guys on the list. I woke to find my wife and children butchered.”


“Allen, your wife had an affair with the politician you just condemned to death. Those children were his children, not yours. I killed your wife and children.”


Allen’s eyes grew as he dropped his jaw. “The politician’s wife sat in that same chair you are and asked that I kill your family.” I took another drink of my scotch. “She made the same deal that you are right now.” I grabbed the bottle and poured another drink. “She asked that I spare your life and give you a path to come to me.”


Allen’s head swooped as his heart stopped and he fell to the floor. The server came over to check him for a pulse. “They usually die with their eyes closed. His are wide open.”


I smiled at the server. “The truth usually does that to a human.”

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