In our last episode, Martin made a surprising commitment that took him to new lows. This week, we see how deep it goes.
3.
Alonzo took after his Uncle Leo. He had a quiet confidence about him that contrasted his cousin Manny’s twitchiness and Matthew’s phony bravado. He was smooth, dressed in dark colors with matching sneakers. His car was just as sleek and dark, with large bench seats. It smelled of city air and, faintly, of something sweet.
As they got in, Alonzo opened the center console and pulled out a small bag of gummy bears. He idly munched on a few before offering some to Martin, who indulged. Then he put the car in gear and cruised out of the neighborhood.
They drove upstate over two hours through rolling hills and spotty cell service. It was the first time Martin had spent more than a moment with someone on official business. It was too long a ride to say nothing and eventually they started on local news, then sports. Before long, they were all smiles, gliding along on the warm leather seats of Alonzo’s car. They came to an isolated cabin by a lake and Alonzo stopped the car. “Wait here.”
He returned moments later with a long duffle bag and put it in the trunk. They stopped for a bite to eat a few miles down the road, sitting on park benches outside a roadside dive.
“What’s in the duffle bag?” Martin asked, with a partially filled cheek.
Alonzo chuckled and continued eating. He stared beyond Martin. “You’re not supposed to ask those things,” he finally said.
“I know and I haven’t so far. But it looks a little different — “
“Don’t get curious. Not a good idea.” Alonzo said coolly.
They headed back on the road and eventually pulled up to a junkyard just outside the city, in the early evening light. Alonzo shut off the headlights as they pulled in through the high fencing.
“Come inside.”
Martin grabbed the bag out of the trunk and followed Alonzo to an office trailer. The floor was lined with discount carpeting and had a single desk. A man emerged with a name tag that said “Frank”.
“What’s up?” Alonzo shook hands and motioned toward the bag. Frank took it eagerly and zipped it open. There were oblong bags of sand and children’s beach toys. Taken aback, Frank picked up a tiny blue shovel, then let it fall from his hand. “What the hell…”
A loud pop and blinding flash filled the office. A single, round, red spot spread across Frank’s checkered shirt. He locked eyes with Martin in bewilderment as light left his eyes and he dropped, deflated onto the floor. Martin could taste iron and moments passed before he realized he’d bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. He unclenched his jaw.
Alonzo lifted a large tarp out of the duffle bag and motioned for Martin to come over. Martin was still breathless and outside himself.
“Martin! Damn, you want an invitation?” That partly snapped him back, enough for him to clumsily grab the corner of the tarp and spread it out.
They rolled Frank onto the tarp and lugged him out to the far corner of the junkyard. Overhead, tangled rebar and broken pieces of colored glass lay strewn atop a brick wall. They reached a small clearing and Alonzo nodded to put the body down slowly.
The corner was stacked with rusted old cars. Beyond the wall was a train yard that stood vacant at this time of night. Alonzo opened a nearby trunk and they swung the body back and forth until the momentum allowed Frank to fall sprawled inside. Walking back, Martin was struck by a putrid smell that floored him. He gasped and held his breath. It had nauseating components, few of which he could identify. It was unlike anything else and he dared not probe as to its source.
“What did you do?” he said, shaking his head.
“We. We paid back a cheat and a liar.” Alonzo grabbed the duffel bag on his way back to the car. “This is a sword that somehow went missing. We were supposed to sell it for good money. People love old shit… Anyway, somehow it went missing. Frank handled the imports and claimed he got ripped off. Come to find out he had a dude hide it upstate. But Frank didn’t know the dude he hired to help con us is with the organization. Anyhow, guy tipped us off.”
His face lit up as if he were recalling some pleasant memory. “Dude is hilarious. Set up the sand and the toys. Like, you’re going on vacation.” Alonzo took more gummy bears out of the center console. “Love these. So fresh! Want some more?”
Alonzo hadn’t stopped talking before he paused to lock the doors.
“So we’re taking this artifact back to get sold. My buddy Frank here, is retired. By next week, someone else will take over.”
Martin stared straight out the windshield, half listening as Alonzo continued talking, half wondering what else may be in the trunks of those cars. Just then, the familiar, putrid smell wafted in through the window. He caught the bile in his throat, swallowing it hard. He started to shake and sweat with waves of hot and cold over his skin.
“You cold?” Alonzo asked.
“Yeah. Could you close the windows?”
“Shame. It’s a nice night.” He started the car and pulled out of the junkyard.
Another Saturday, the burner buzzed with a text. “Come out to Carl’s at 8pm tonight.”
Martin arrived to see Alonzo leaning against a slightly beat up car in front of Carl’s Bar. He was still shaken from their last encounter and reluctantly held out his hand for a set of keys.
“Take this out to PA. There’s a trailer at this address.” Alonzo handed Martin a piece of paper.
“95 Millcreek Road. What’s there?”
“Told you about that curiosity.” Alonzo was shaking his head while he popped gummy bears into his mouth. “Somebody will be in the trailer. They’ll have some bags for you. Bring them back to your building. A friend will be waiting.”
The road out to Pennsylvania got darker and darker as he left the bright lights of New York behind, but Martin was relieved to be alone. Off the exit, the roads were pitch black and winding. There were only two lanes and a lot of blind corners where large pick-up trucks and small speeding cars barreled through. It was already late and Martin was tired, drifting into the shoulder before swerving back onto the road.
He finally reached the trailer and stepped out. He knocked on the door and the lights came on. He vaguely recognized the occupant. Maybe he was the cab driver that first time or a delivery guy during another. Whoever he was, the man handed Martin two large suitcases and shut the door without a word. He had to admire their discipline. They really were a collective of few words.
On the road back, Martin stopped to rest. It was nearly midnight. He pulled into a quiet lodge and parked at the far end of the lot. Pulling his hoodie over his eyes, he soon fell asleep.
He awoke with a start to the sound of a dog barking. He’d had fitful sleep and felt a sharp pain in his neck. He got out to check in the trunk. The suitcases were still there. He stared at them for a moment and wondered what was inside. Money? Drugs? More antiques? Curiosity got the better of him and he partially unzipped one suitcase to find neat, clear packages of stiff white powder. The other had stacks of clean and crisp bills of every denomination. His mind immediately turned to escape. If he could just get his hands on enough money to leave town… there was no telling how things would escalate or what else he’d have to endure on jobs with Alonzo.
As he closed the trunk, a man stood before him. Martin jumped, shocked that he hadn’t heard the stranger approach.
“Any trouble?”
Martin panicked.
“Oh no! I’m okay. Just needed to— “
“What?” The man was solid and imposing with large, worn hands. “What were you doing?”
They both glanced toward the trunk.
“I should call someone for you— “
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I just need to get home.”
Martin squeezed past the man to the driver’s door, got in his seat and sped away, watching the man from his rearview mirror standing like a sentinel.
On his way into his building, a woman he’d never seen approached him. She repeated the pick up site’s address. He handed her the bag and she disappeared into the other wing of the building. He was too drained to think about where that bag would end up and trudged up the stairs, entering his empty apartment. After a hot shower, Martin collapsed onto the bed.
The alarm blared loudly on another Monday morning, but the music upstairs had already gotten him up. He had been making runs to Pennsylvania on the weekends and was exhausted Monday mornings. He told Lena he had a new “hauling” job that put him on the road. Sometimes those trips included Alonzo. Whenever Alonzo shook hands with someone, Martin didn’t know if the person was there for a drink or to die. Sometimes it was both. Martin hated the way Alonzo toyed with people, how he sometimes laughed and ate with people before relieving them of their property or worse. Martin would have to sit there, pretending along with him until the scheme unfolded.
Martin wanted out and had begun stashing bits of cash here and there, unnoticed, he was certain. He hoped to eventually squirrel away enough to sever ties and no longer need to work odd jobs.
He and Lena were finally moving to a new apartment close to the school, but also at the heart of the organization. He needed to stay close to learn what he could and plan his next move.
He’d taken the week of Spring Break to unpack and get his bearings. The new apartment was spacious and bright, with tall windows and only one neighbor next door in the two-family house. It was also quiet. There was room enough for everything: Martin’s weights, Lena’s manuscripts and watercolors, maybe even a pet if they wanted one. They had not yet settled in completely when a knock came. Lena opened the door while Martin remained in his new office, sifting through his supplies. Then he heard a voice at the door that pierced through him. He rushed over to Lena and saw him, leaning casually in the doorway, less than a foot away from her.
“Hey,” Alonzo stood beaming at his doorstep. “Cherry pie. It’s rich but good. Corny, but you know, trying to be a good neighbor.” His outstretched arms hung in the air as Martin stared stone-faced. Alonzo’s face shone brighter with something more, something disturbing.
“You gonna take it or what?” Lena interjected. She grabbed the pastry with thanks and shimmied inside.
“Alonzo— “
“Don’t worry, she’s not my type. Came to check on you. There’s work tonight.” His face suddenly turned dark. Martin braced himself for another long night.
Rashad waited until everyone left the classroom and approached Martin. “Mr. LaSalle, I heard some things about you.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“That you work for Manny an’ dem.”
Martin paused. “Who told you that?”
“Ain’t no real secrets around here.”
“Hmph. I… I don’t know how that rumor started…”
“But it’s true. Isn’t it?”
“Rashad— “
“Mr. LaSalle, you come in here with ya back straight, neat clothes, and don’t take shit from nobody. You tell us not to make the wrong choices.”
“I can’t do what you do. I work on my own time, away from here, and I can pay my bills. Think I can come here and doze off?”
Rashad rolled his eyes and Martin continued.
“My daily bread don’t come easy either. I got a degree and did all the right things. I still didn’t get ahead.”
“So you just like the rest of us, with no choice but to hustle?”
Martin didn’t answer and Rashad's face tightened, thick with anger and the disappointment poured from his mouth.
“That’s not true! You know that! I work every day, just like you. Ain’t no reward for hard work. Temptation is there, but at the end of the day, I want to lay my head down.”
“After a point, Rashad, it really just is about the money.”
Rashad guffawed, shocked, and clapped his hands. “Are you for real right now?!”
“What’s funny?”
“You! You have a choice. Everyone has a choice. You makin’ the wrong one.”
Martin was done with this conversation. “You have to get to your next period. Get going.”
Rashad threw his backpack on and walked toward the door. “Mr. LaSalle, just make sure you make it back home.”
The work had escalated to much more than that night in the junkyard. Alonzo was doing all kinds of jobs. He was a ghost. Gone in the daytime hauling products and settling scores at night. Guys like him kept the organization’s illusions intact. Someone had to do the cleaning.
One night, Alonzo handed him a bullet proof vest and a gun. “It’s part of your upgraded status.” Together, the two robbed rivals and intimidated informants.
Martin resented Alonzo. The man was cruel and dangerous. A ten-minute job could turn into a two-hour sadist event. It was frightening to see someone so joyful in another’s suffering.
Eventually, Martin started getting sent out alone as a stick-up man, yet another organization upgrade. But wherever he went, he felt Alonzo just over his shoulder.
No Way Home: Chapter Three