Merciless

One foot after another, I approached the neon yellow taxi. The exterior stung my eyes in combination with the bright lights of Times Square. I focused my watery eyes on the black and blue stripes of the taxicab to calm my vision. I rubbed my eyes, reverting my sight to a mere blur. I rubbed them again and looked at the cab once more. The tires looked old and like they were deteriorating, ready to burst at any moment. Looking inside the windows, which were filthy from months of winter grime and condensation, I noticed that the seats were made of some kind of fake leather that was coming apart at the seams. I moved my glance over to the front of the car. The passenger seat held his wallet, bag, and papers in a pile. Under his rearview there was a nametag with a name I didn’t bother to read and a face I did not recognize, nor will I remember. Under the nametag there was a meter that was already started the second we made eye-contact. The second I opened the door, a mix between body odor and cherry air freshener blasted my nostrils. To my surprise and good fortune, there was no camera. I crouched down, careful not to hit my head on the roof, and took a step into the car. I begrudgingly sat on his old and torn seats. I sat behind the passenger seat. The car was so old that the fabric tore under me causing a small hole. I put my bag down next to me. His dashboard hula shook back and forth, as though it was mocking me. Settling inside the car my vision was set on the ornament rocking back and forth. I tried to ignore it, but it kept taunting me.

I directed the cab driver to take me home and he started the car’s engine with a roar. The motor rattled the vehicle and my body was shaking, leaving my behind numb. I reached into my bag and pulled her out. The wood on her grip was smooth and fine. On it, there were lines coiling themselves, similar to a ravenous boa. Slowly and carefully my fingers examined my partner, feeling the curves reaching to the bottom of the gun. Feeling the metal of her barrel again, needing the cool temperature to soothe my hot and sweaty hands. Mercy was her name, her hunger for blood was insatiable. I started feeding her the fuel she needs, careful not to let off a misfire. This part seemed to last an eternity. As I loaded each bullet individually, my hands moved slowly, dexterously and most importantly, quietly. One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven… Loading the last bullet, it slipped my grip, fell to the floor making a slight “tink” noise. The taxi driver was seemingly unaware. I continued with my business.

“Nice night ain’t it?”, he said.

“Sure is, been a busy night for ya?” I replied kindly, hiding my real emotions.

That damn thing… Why is it pissing me off so much… I thought to myself cynically as the hula dancer kept wiggling.

The driver, no younger than fifty, turned back informing me of how tonight was his last night on the job and it was starting a new chapter of his life. I felt happy for him. He was going to finish a part of his life alright. Mercy took charge of my hand, raising her barrel up to the driver’s vision in his rearview mirror. My hands were sweating. I felt she would slip my grip any second. It was like holding onto your best friend who’s about to fall off a cliff. He was still unaware of her presence. Rage filled us at the sight of his ignorance and stupidity. I was doing the world a favor. I began to squeeze the trigger slowly and silently... POP! The car came to a complete stop, he began to try leaving the vehicle although; he was struggling with the seatbelt and then with the broken drivers’ side handle. He was cursing his vehicle throughout the whole ordeal. That only infuriated him further. “Don’t touch my st-- Nevermind.” The driver uttered angrily. He leaned back into the car, reached into the passenger seat, and grabbed his wallet. He proceeded to slam the door, still frustrated about the flat tire. His tire was shot and his life was saved for the meantime.

I didn’t know how long I was going to spend in the cab, or what I would do in the meantime. Mercy was helping me in making a decision. Beads of sweat dripped from my face. She wanted it now. Starving for blood, feasting on each and every drop when she does. The person who honored me with a prize such as herself compared her to a leech. A metal and wood semi-automatic leech.

The cabbie hadn’t turned off the meter. I sat by patiently, watching my money leaving my pocket, sixteen cents a minute, the total up to this point was $12.45. She forced herself into my hands and put the barrel to my skull. If he wasn’t going to feed her tonight, I may have to. I felt the pin clicking into position to fire. Is this it? I think to myself. She and I both had noticed the job was done too soon, his tire was fixed and he entered the vehicle with a look of frustration, scratching his greasy hair. That was even more infuriating. His filthy black streaked hair with those ratty grey strands, covered by his cheap woolen tuque. I moved the pin back out of place, for now.

“Sorry about that one man, my cab’s a piece of crap” speaking to me as if he knew me.

He did not know me, nor would he ever. When he sat down, I felt Mercy jerk herself into my hand. She wouldn’t stand for disrespect. I slid behind the driver’s seat and Mercy forced herself between the headrest and seat, cocking her pin back into her barrel. The taxi driver felt what I was doing and attempted to stop me. I pulled Mercy out from the headrest frantically and aimed the gun at his face, yet almost instinctively, the driver began to reach for the gun to attack me. I smacked him in the face with the handle of my gun. Blood from his nose splashed onto my face and all over my clothes. I wiped Mercy’s barrel on my face to give her a taste and then licked my lips clean. He started to empty his wallet, even while he was laying slouched down in the driver’s seat. Mercy smacked it out of his hand in a large motion, dropping at most thirty dollars on the floor.

He began to plead, “Please, my family”, he continued, wasting his last words, “I can’t die, what do you want, I’ll give you anything you want”.

The only thing that pleading would accomplish him was his death. Mercy cocked herself, her hammer pulling her body tight. Her trigger was now in place, springs cocked and loaded, ready to let her cylinder release a bullet into the driver’s head. Mercy’s spring uncoiled in nanoseconds, her hammer collapsing onto the bullet in the cylinder. The primer exploded and with that, Mercy spit out her one-note song. The bullet forced itself into the driver’s skull, exploding the bone fragment inside his head. Blood was all over the car window and a crack in the windshield formed from the bullet passing through. Blood started squirting everywhere. A humorous idea popped into my head that his head was overflowing like a Mr. Potatohead filled with water. I began to laugh uncontrollably. The adrenaline rush was too weak. Mercy let off more shots. I stepped out of the vehicle and the door made a loud squeak, somewhat like the one the taxi driver wasted on his last breath. High pitched and short-lived. That idea coerced another laugh, this one more hysterical. Stepping toward his carcass, adrenaline coursed through my veins like mud through a junkie’s. I strolled giddily toward the outside of the driver’s seat. Mercy put more bullets in his face; one in each eye socket. Blood leaked out like a strawless juice box. Couldn’t help giving him another devious chuckle. I grabbed his body by his shoulders and ripped him out of the seat remorselessly. A wad of gelatinous substance that might’ve been his brain fell out of the back of his skull onto my shoes. I couldn’t take any more disrespect. She only had three bullets left in her chamber, so I loaded the cylinder full once more. Stepping forward, I let off more and more shots.

She released her fury of fire leaving spattered blood all over the side of the car. I began to stomp on his bloody face with my steel toe boots. Blood shot up and splashed everywhere. It was like crushing grapes for wine, but much more entertaining. His memories, thoughts, and feelings were now all over my legs and shoes.

The driver was dead. I put on my police uniform and called for backup. The murderer was gone… For all they knew…