Black Salmon

Ralph Bonner stood outside the Maple Tap Bar freezing his balls off. Whoever put a restaurant 20 miles from Huntsville, Ontario, Canada was an idiot. Ralph heard about it being a stop for sled dogs back in the day and he just ran with it. Now he could barley take it. He couldn’t imagine himself getting pulled by mutts with this wind in his face. His fingertips were already numb just walking through the door.

Inside, the sweet relief of a heater brought him back to life. Loud rock music Ralph didn’t like was playing from an old jukebox in the corner. Sports memorabilia and dog sledding gear littered the walls. The waitress had to wave him over, amused by his distracted face. She wore a cropped shirt with the bar name on it, apparently unaware of the cold outside. She leaned over the old oak bar top and told him out-of-towners usually wore the same face, and asked what he would like, having to nearly yell in his ear.

“I’ll have a beer, if you got one. None of that warm dog water,” Ralph said.

The gravel in his voice cut across just fine; She got to it right away. He liked that. Ralph turned around to face the crowd of people. He took a moment to push his aviator glasses up and run his hand over his hair. He leaned against the bar and put his hands in his pockets. the hard steel of his pistol pressed against his lower back.

He looked at the old losers around, wondering who was playing the rock music. It didn’t look like anybody’s style here. There were some old-timers, Inuit looking people just having dinner. Some workers from a nearby plant were there, too. He noticed a big fat guy with them, Cuban or something, being overly friendly. The man was holding court in the corner, slapping the table and shaking the building each time he laughed. The locals seemed to love him. Disgust came to Ralph’s mind as he watched this man. He wondered how a person could get so big and slow like that. Sloppy.

The waitress came back with a beer.

“Thanks, babe,” he said.

“We startin’ a tab?” She asked.

“Just one for the road.”

Ralph lifted his beer in a cheers and took a sip. It tasted like liquid metal, but it was cold. The waitress continued working. Ralph looked down the bar and saw a nasty looking dude in a thick sweater. This guy reminded Ralph of the street level thugs he rubbed shoulders with on the job, tough looking and greasy. Ralph and the man glanced at each other.

Sizing me up, Ralph thought.

The man tipped his beer and smiled.

False alarm.

Ralph did the same and nodded. The guy had a tooth like a can opener.

Ralph was in this remote corner of Canada because he was in deep with the Spadoni Crime Family back in Jersey. He was a self-admitted gambler who worked for them as hired muscle, so they usually let him off the hook. Now, with some big-timer named Big Gino kicking the bucket, it was a free-for-all. It led to Ralph’s boss getting whacked. Turf was divided and the guys who took over weren’t cutting any more slack. They wanted to cut other parts, though.

Ralph’s parts.

He booked it across the border with $150,000 heading for greener pastures. He didn’t mind laying low, he liked Montreal and Ottawa, but Huntsville was small. Low-key.

His train of thought was broken by the fat man thumping a large hand on the bar. He didn’t seem to notice his sleeve land in the wet spot where the waitress had just cleaned up.

“Hey sweetie come here,” the man said. The waitress smiled like she knew the man, and walked over to him. Ralph couldn’t hear her over the music, but the man was loud and clear. “I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”

He could be heard over a damn artillery raid.

The waitress brought him his drink and he walked away, brushing against Ralph. The man smelled like— lavender? Ralph never knew a man that smelled like lavender. Must be a real punk to do something like that. Ralph downed his beer, fed up with the night. He had to be up early to move again tomorrow anyway.

Ralph smiled at the waitress and left a two dollar tip, the least he could do. He braced himself as he opened the heavy door, greeted by the pins and needles of whipping wind. He bundled up in his leather jacket. It had gotten colder. There was snow taking off in twists in the parking lot.

He walked fast to his car and fumbled with the keys, his hands already going numb again. He cursed under his breath as he felt snot begin to leak from his nose. He was so cold that he didn’t notice the figure walking up behind him. All he heard was the gunshot as it cracked through the air.

Ralph fell to the ground. He coughed up blood but couldn’t feel anything. He just felt warm. It was nice to be warm. He tried to look up but he had fallen sideways, looking under his car. There was a field in the distance covered in snow that just stretched white, on and on and…

“Got you,” a loud voice said. Ralph recognized the voice of the jolly fat man right away. “Get the keys.”

Ralph watched an arm with a thick fleece sleeve reach in front of him and grab the keys.

Crooked tooth.

“He’s got to have that money in the trunk,” the Jovial man said.

The other one walked behind the car as Ralph’s vision faded. Something pressed into Ralph’s arm and he was flipped onto his back. Ralph’s breaths went up in a ragged fog as he looked up at the giant foot that rolled him over. It was the fat man’s.

“Bet you thought the snow would slow us down, ‘ey?” the man said, the thick Jersey accent cutting through now, or had he been hiding it? Ralph could smell the lavender now. The whiskey. “Canada’s only a hop, skip and gunshot away from Jersey, Ralphie boy.”

The man gave a short chuckle and cupped his hand over his mouth. Ralph’s vision blurred as he saw the man’s breath fog up between his fingers. The other man walked up beside the big man, leaning slightly with the weight of the duffel bag in his hand.

Ralph’s $150,000.

Ralph just looked up past the men in defeat. Maybe if he had ran faster, gone the other way; he knew it didn’t matter now. Ralph watched the fat man raise the black pistol but couldn’t stomach it. He turned to look at the snowy field. There was an old barn in the distance, coiling snow being carried by the wind. He noticed a glint of light against the mountains in the horizon.

Then it all went black.

#

Rico Ceccoli and Lou “Sabu” Sabina walked back to the car stashed behind the bar. Lou weaved through the vehicles, Rico a few feet behind wincing as the still-hot gun barrel burned against his leg. They both got into the old Chevy Nova, “Sabu” driver’s side.

“Jesus Christ I think my ass is falling off,” Rico said.

He rubbed his hands, breathing into his palms before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Lou, who took it with one hand as he started the car and turned up the heat. Rico lit his cigarette with a card of Maple Tap Bar matches then handed over the card.

The men sat smoking for a moment, $150,000 in the backseat.

“We count this shit when we get to the cabin,” Rico said.

Lou nodded, and took a drag from his cigarette.

“You go mute on me?” Rico asked. “This cash has to be in the city by five tomorrow.”

“I got it,” Lou said. He put his arms up and scowled, “keep your panties on, I don’t think they have your size this far up north.”

“Very funny, prick,” Rico said, chuckling as he took a drag. “Just get us the fuck outta’ here before a drunk comes wandering out.”

Lou put the Nova in gear and turned out of the lot. A crowd was already gathering around Ralph’s body; There were three cars lined up passing by slowly, windows down. A man stood there directing traffic. Lou thought he probably found the body first. Rico rolled down his window as they pulled up next.

“Hey, what happened?” He asked.

“Guy got shot, he’s a goner.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rico said, shaking his head. “All the way out here?”

A woman came out and told them cops were on their way, and to get home and bolt the door. The waitress from the bar ran out yelling about an ambulance. They pulled off with a wave and a thanks, have a good one, God bless.

In the rear view they saw the crowd of onlookers in heavy coats, and a few minutes later they passed a cruiser and an ambulance going the other way.

Lou got comfortable and found some rock music on the radio. Rico hummed along a bit then fell asleep watching the snow fall against thick gray clouds.