REAL LIFE/REAL DEATH Chapter Seventeen

"A FEW MORE"

The question tumbled out of my mouth.

“Did you just say, Koslowski?”

“You know him,” Super Citizen flatly said, glaring at me.

“Yeah, worked with him when I was on the force. Mother fucker’s been hounding me all week. I should have known he was up to something.” I confessed before spitting out a crass, “Fuck!”

I could tell a few of them were put off by my loud swearing. I don’t spend much time with groups of people in public and just got used to saying whatever thought came to my head. I guess that’s one of the things Sandy’s talking about when she says I need to get my head on straight.

But still. FUCK!

I don’t know why I even bother to get upset at myself, it’s all so fucking pointless. I knew Koslowski was a bad cop, but I guess I just didn’t believe (or perhaps didn’t WANT to believe) that he was actually mixed up in drug dealing. My head was hurting and I really needed a drink. Tension was high and I was fucking tired. These last few days have been the most stressful days of my recent life. They’ve also been the most sober, which comes as no surprise. I’m pretty sure stress and sobriety go hand in hand.

Thinking about how tired and sober I had become really began to piss me off. It was unfortunate then that there was a payphone downstairs in the bar.

“I’ll call Detective Ross,” I said, “he’s the guy you’re going to want to talk to.”

There was some arguing back and forth as I left the room, but I wasn’t really listening to any of it. I just wanted to make the call and get the hell out of there. I didn’t care what happened to anyone at that point. By the time I had got to the elevator, Sandy had come running out of the room.

“Frank, what’s wrong?” She asked, stepping into the elevator.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, “Once Ross gets over here I can finally go home and get some sleep.”

“What about everything that’s happened? What about that guy you shot?”

I continued to mumble. “Self defense. Whatever. I don’t care. I just want some fucking sleep.”

“Frank!” she shouted, successfully snapping me to attention, “if what you said up there is true, the Koslowski is looking for you. He knows something. You are in danger.”

“Probably.”

“Goddamnit FRANK!” she shouted just before the elevator doors clicked open.

Without hesitation I walked out of the elevator, pacing my way toward the phone. That must have pissed her off (I suspected it would) because she did not follow me out. Rather, she let the doors close behind me. Presumable she went back upstairs.

As I made my way to the phone, I felt the familiar approach of two lifelong acquaintances of mine: Self Loathing and Depression. I was going to call Ross, but not until after I’d gotten a few drinks in me. It’s the only way I can really have a conversation with someone anymore.

After a few whiskeys (I don’t remember exactly how many) I made the promised call to Ross. He did not answer. I left him a message, or sorts, apologizing for not waiting for him earlier, and telling him that I had some important information I needed to get to him right away. I would have told him to meet me at the hotel, but I couldn’t remember which one I was at. So I just hung up and had a few more whiskeys.

I downed the drinks pretty fast, I’m not one to waste time letting the alcohol settle, and waited for Sandy to come get me. I knew before long she would get worried and come yell at me for drinking, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything at this point. Jennifer was back with her friends, and as far as I was concerned, she was no longer my problem. The mystery had been solved; whatever mystery it was, I don’t think I was ever sure myself. My god I was stupid. I’d been running around the last two days trying to find the answer to a question I didn’t even know. And the answer was staring right in my fucking face the whole time. I should have just stayed in my car that night. I never should have gotten involved.

Just as I was in the throws of my own form of self flagellation, I finally heard a familiar voice behind me, saying very familiar words.

“Jesus Christ, I knew I’d find you in the bar.

But it wasn’t Sandy, like I was expecting.

It was Koslowski.

REAL LIFE/REAL DEATH Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

"IDIOTS"

The hotel room was full of idiots.

I guess that’s a harsh way of saying it, but I’m not a guy who wastes time trying to think of the perfect word to describe something. These people were fucking idiots.

The hotel room was actually pretty big; it had to be to hold all these people. It’s what they call a suite, I suppose. Whoever sprung for this room must have a lot of money to waste, and let me tell you, none of these idiots looked like they had any of that.

The Watchman, the guy that brought me and Sandy up to the room, he stood out the most. He must have been at least a good ten or twenty years older than everyone else. I’d place him in his forties. I guess he was kind of the unofficial leader of the group. He had a calm, but authoritative voice and a real procedural way about him, but not in a militaristic way, more like a boy scout leader.

The next one I noticed was Captain Kick. This kid looked ridiculous. He wore an all white shirt and pants, with red gloves, boots, and helmet. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had a symbol on his chest; it was a white silhouette of the bottom of a shoe surrounded by red spray paint. He must have laid the paint on thick too, because it was splattered and dripping all over the front. The jackass looked like a used tampon.

The other two didn’t put near as much effort into their costumes. Pisces wasn’t even wearing a costume really, unless you consider looking like a ridiculous hippie with flowers in her hair a costume, which I do. And Ombre, was just wearing some battered old military BDU’s and a green tank top and ski mask. The kid looked like a criminal, but he was definitely in the best shape out of everyone here. He was probably ex military; he just carried himself that way.

There was another member of the team that was not present, Super Citizen. He was supposedly out getting more information. Jennifer didn’t like him, she said he never really talked to the group and never tried to make friends. I guess he took this thing seriously. That worried me.

“Detective Calico,” said Watchman interrupting my thoughts, “we seriously can’t thank you enough for protecting Night Cat the way you did. Everybody’s been on edge since the incident and we all assumed the worst.”

“Right, yeah well you know…” I’m not good when put on the spot and couldn’t think of anything eloquent to say. All that came out was, “you’re welcome.” I suppose that was polite enough though.

While Jennifer was talking with the rest of the team, Watchman took me aside to talk. I felt bad for Sandy, she was kind of keeping to herself.

“So, Night Cat tells me that you have a friend at the police force. Someone who can help us out?” He asked.

“Yeah. Well, maybe,” I said, “I was supposed to meet him tonight, but then things got fucked up. I don’t know if he’d really want to stick his neck out for me anymore?”

“Do you trust him?”

“Do I trust him?” I echoed.

“Yeah, is he trustworthy,” he repeated.

Do I trust Detective Ross? The same Detective Ross that got me fired and took my job?

“Without question,” I answered.

It’s true, Ross and I have a history, but I can’t really blame the guy for anything he did. He did what was right. I was in a bad place at the time. My wife and just left me and took our daughter with her. I’m not saying that excuses my action, I’m just saying it had broken me down. I was drinking pretty heavily, course I had been doing that for a while anyway, but now I was doing it on the job. We were investigating a double homicide. Wife and Husband had been killed, ten year old daughter was missing. Forensics had already swept the house, I had gone back to follow up on some new information. At least, that’s what I said, I guess I really just wanted to wallow in somebody else’s despair. I heard a scuffle behind me and fired my gun. It was the kid. She had been hiding in the neighborhood since the murder and came back for a toy. Thankfully, I was too drunk to shoot straight, but the shock nearly killed me. It was the last time I ever fired a gun(until today). Ross reported it, got me suspended, forced me into AA. I quit the force shortly after. I don’t hold a grudge. I know there was no malicious intent in Ross’s action, he genuinely wanted me to get help. He even made a few follow up visits after I quit the force, just to see how I was coming along. He was a good man, though, that’s for sure. I must have been a big disappointment to him.

“That’s great!” he exclaimed, “You see, we’ve got some information about the drug heist from the other night, but we need to be real careful with it. We’ve got a positive ID on the two parties involved, but we can’t go to the cops with it. I was thinking maybe the news channels.”

“Why can’t you go to the cops?” I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.

“Because the mother fucker selling the mother fucking drugs was a cop,” said a muffled voice from across the room.

I looked over to the door and saw a young man enter the room. He was wearing black slacks and a black button up silk shirt. A small black fedora completed the outfit.

Apparently, Super Citizen had arrived.

“Super Citizen,” questioned Watchman, “why aren’t you wearing your costume?”

“What, are you retarded? We’re in a five star hotel and are currently on the run from killers. I’d like to stand out as little as possible, thank you.”

Super Citizen looked like a guy that was perpetually pissed off. The guy had the appearance of someone who wanted to be classy, but I could tell it was an act. He spoke in a low, deliberate voice, like every sentence he spoke was a performance not part of a conversation. He had a thin, barely visible mustache, and his face was covered in pock marks. As my ex-wife would have said, “he had unfortunate skin.”

They say not to judge a book by its cover, but I didn’t like him. He looked like an ass and he wasn’t really doing anything to change my opinion of him.

“Who the fuck is this?” he growled, indicating me.

“This is Frank Calico. He’s a private detective and he saved Night Cat’s life. He’s going to get our information to a good cop,” explained Watchman.

“There’s no such thing as good cops,” he spat out.

“Look,” sighed Watchman, “I’m not going to have this conversation with you again. We need to get that information into the hands of the authorities. If what you say is true—“

“Course it’s true,” interrupted Super Citizen, “I recognized that mother fucker was a cop the instant I saw him that night, and I just double checked it out with my sources. Mother fuckers name is Koslowski. Some Polish prick.”

Shit, I tell you now, when I heard that name, I was much more surprised than I should have been.

REAL LIFE/REAL DEATH Chapter Fifteen

"GONGS OF A BELL"

“JESUS CHRIST, FRANK!”

I slammed the car door behind me, sending shards of broken glass everywhere. I stomped off in no particular direction.

“Frank, for the love of Christ, where are you going?” Sandy shouted.

I heard the other car door slam shut and a few seconds later Sandy was pacing me. “Frank, will you just stop for a second.”

“No,” I said, “I’m done. I’m leaving. You’re right. I’m a fucking bastard. I know. It’s not a secret.”

“So, you punch out my car window? What is wrong with you?”

I finally stopped walking and turned to her. “I don’t know,” I said, raising my voice. “I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me. All I know is that I ruin everything I touch. I thought I was going to try and do the right thing for once, and it just fucked everything up even more.”

“Frank, please, just…here, let me get the glass out of your hand.”

That’s when I realized that my left hand was dripping blood. “Fuck, Goddamn it,” I said. It hadn’t really sunk in yet that I smashed the window with my fist. “I’m fucking sorry about your window, doll. See, everything I touch is ruined.”

“Frank, will you just shut up for one second!” she snapped.

I shut up, more out of shock than anything else.

She began pulling pieces of glass out of my knuckles while I tried to stop some of the bleeding with my handkerchief. “Frank, I know you’re unhappy. I want to help you, but I don’t know what else I can do. You’ve always been so distant…”

“I’ve been distant!” I cut her off, “I’m not the one who’s bringing a different guy home with me from the strip club every few weeks.”

“Well what do you expect me to do, Frank? I’m not going to just wait around for the few moments you’re in the mood. I’m a person too, Frank, and I have my own life to live.”

“And your own mistakes to make.”

“Yeah, that’s right, I’ve made mistakes. But I made them. I may not be living the life I expected to live, but it’s my life. I’m responsible for everything I’ve done, and I don’t blame anyone else but me.”

“I just didn’t want to ruin things. We had something good, I was too scared to change it.”

“Frank, I understand that you never got over your marriage ending, but you can’t keep living in the past.”

Her words echoed inside my head like gongs of a bell. Deep down, I already knew everything she was saying, but sometimes you just need it spelled out in front of your face before you can really see it. We stood in silence while she cleaned up my hand as best she could, using the handkerchief as a makeshift bandage.

“I know it’s all my fault,” I finally said, “I know I’m not a good person, but I try to change. Or at least every time I think I do, I end up doing something stupid.”

Sandy couldn’t think of anything to say, and I could see that it was tearing her up inside. I never gave her a chance to say anything anyway.

“It seems I’ve just been fucking things up my entire life. My job, my marriage, my daughter. I just thought…I just thought I’d make up for that my helping Jennifer. Or, maybe not make up for it, but just…I don’t know. You’re right, it won’t change what happened.”

Sandy breathed out a loud sigh of relief and said, “but that doesn’t mean Jennifer won’t need your help.”

She was right, as usual. And just as I was thinking that, I heard those exact words repeated in my ears out of the mouth of a stranger.

“She’s right,” said the stranger. “Night Cat does need your help. We all do.”

The stranger stepped out from behind a large SUV and revealed himself. I assumed he was one of Jennifer’s superhero buddies, but he didn’t really look it. He wore a basic tan trench coat complete with matching tie, gloves and a fedora hat. He was wearing some large motorcycle goggles that doubled as a mask, I suppose. The fella looked like he crawled right out of a 1940’s newspaper strip, minus the digital watch on his left hand.

“Night Cat said we could trust you, but I’m sure you know how hard that can be these days, so I wanted to check you out for myself before we let you up. You can call me The Watchman.”

“I’m Frank,” I said, “this is Sandy.”

“Night Cat said you used to be a cop, that you know still have some connections with the police. Is that true?”

“Yes.” I said plainly.

“Good, why don’t you come upstairs with me, we have a lot to talk about.”

REAL LIFE/REAL DEATH Chapter Fourteen

“EASY CHOICES”

We were parked outside of large, fancy hotel, I don’t remember which one.

The anonymity of being one out of hundreds of parked cars was a little comforting. Jennifer had gone inside to see if the others were still checked in. Apparently this place was their de facto hideout. Whoever chose this place must have had money to throw around. She said it was one of her teammates, the one that paid for all their plane tickets. I found it suspicious, that’s for sure, if for no other reason than the generosity.

Sandy and I sat in silence. I couldn’t say anything to her. What was I supposed to say? I had a whole new realization. I could see what our relationship was all along, nothing more than an easy thing. What really upset me was that I had gotten really accustomed to it. I guess I was beginning to treat it like a second marriage. But it was easier because we didn’t have to see each other all the time.

“Frank…listen,” she started, “about what happened back there. I swear, I didn’t…It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I know the score. Pete got me drunk, got my car away from me, then dropped me off for you to keep busy ‘til the other guys came for the pick up. Right?”

“Frank, Gurly didn’t tell me anything. He just said I was supposed to keep you busy. He said…he said you’d be better off this way. “

“Better off in what way? I could have just crawled back into the bottle and forgotten about the whole thing, right? Go back to being the pathetic, drunken fuck up. That’d be better for everyone, huh? Well fuck, he’s probably right. It wouldn’t have been that hard. Feels like I been doing that my whole life. But I’ll tell you one thing, that girl wouldn’t have been better off. What about her? How am I supposed to live with that?”

I must have raised my voice a little because she screamed at me next. “Don’t fucking yell at me!” she said, “You never cared about anyone but yourself as long as I known you, and now all the sudden you gotta do right by this girl? She’s not your daughter, Frank! You abandoned her ten years ago, and helping out Jennifer is not going to make up for that!”

Every decision we make, every choice we are given, we have to struggle with what our intelligence tells us is right, and what our impulse tells us to do. For some people, it’s no choice at all, as the two are one in the same. For others though, like myself, it’s a constant struggle, and the easier of the two choices is usually taken. It’s not that I don’t want to be a better person, it’s that somewhere along the way, I got to a point where I felt I didn’t deserve to be a better person and just let my impulses carry my decisions.

The last time my ex-wife spoke to me like Sandy just did; she left with a broken nose. She took our daughter with her and I’ve never spoken to either of them since. Now, I’m a man who can recognize his own faults no matter how much he tries not to, but that doesn’t mean I like to hear them. I could feel my mind racing and my fists clenching.

REAL LIFE/REAL DEATH Chapter Thirteen

“SHARON”

Her scream drowned out the other sounds of the night.

It was hard to tell exactly what was going on. Between the flashing lights of the squad car, the piercing beam of the handheld flashlight, and all my regular anxieties brought on by the usual city night life, I was finding it hard to focus. But what I can tell you is that within seconds, Jennifer and I were running down the street in front of the apartment complex. She left the two cops on the ground, no doubt calling for backup, if it wasn’t already on the way.

We didn’t get half way down the street when a car sped past us from behind, squealing to a halt just in front of us. My heart sank because I thought it must have been Ross. But I paused in surprise when Sandy jumped out of the driver side door and screamed, “What are you waiting for? Get in!”

I rushed into the passenger seat and Jennifer climbed in the back. I was breathing pretty heavily. Sandy hadn’t really entered my mind since the guns started firing, and now that I was thinking about it, I wasn’t sure if I should be trusting her. Shit, I didn’t know what I should be doing anymore.

I don’t know if I really loved Sandy, but whatever we had, it was as close to love as I was capable of getting. Emotionally, I couldn’t handle the idea of her selling me out. But the more I tossed it around in my head, the less impossible it seemed. I mean, why wouldn’t she? It’s not like she has anything invested in me. I’m just a lonely old fucker who gives her attention whenever he needs a lay. I don’t deserve her love. I don’t deserve anybody’s love. Not since my marriage with Sharon ended. Christ, I haven’t even thought her name in forever, not since Sandy came into the picture. So fuck it, I know what you’re thinking and you’re probably right. I was just using Sandy to help forget Sharon. I knew that. Sandy knew it too, I’m sure. Maybe she didn’t believe it, but deep down she knew it.

So yeah, how can I blame her for selling me out? I’m sure she got enough money for it. Lord knows she could use more money. Then again, who couldn’t? Were I in her position, I can’t say I wouldn’t have thought it over.

“Frank!” Sandy yelled, interrupting my thoughts. “Jesus fuck, Frank! I’m trying to talk to you here!”

“Sorry, was just thinking about some stuff,” I solemnly responded.

“Well, you better start thinking about what you’re going to do now. Jesus, what happened to those cops back there?

“That’s a good question.” I said, turning around to see if Jennifer was even in the car. She sat with her head down, like a dog who knew she was in trouble and about to get whipped.

“It was his ring,” she finally said. “He was wearing a ring on his right hand. It was the same ring I saw two nights ago when Azul died.”

“His ring? It could have been a wedding ring,” I said flippantly.

“No, I saw his hand pick up the brief case. It belonged to the same man that killed Azul. It was him. I know it.”

“You didn’t say anything about no ring before.”

“It was there, okay?” she screamed, “I saw it. I swear it was him.”

“Do you realize what you’re saying? You’re saying a cop was involved in a drug deal and killed your friend who was a witness,” I said.

“That’s crazy,” exclaimed Sandy.

“No, it’s not,” I confessed, “Koslowski is as crooked as they come. Fuck, of course. It had to be him, that’s why he was riding me the other day. He’s looking for the other witnesses. That’s why Gurly was playing along with him. I bet it was Gurly’s money. Koslowski was going to give the money back in exchange for the girl. Aw fuck. This is fucked. We got to find somewhere to go.”

“I know where to go,” Jennifer whispered.

“What?” I asked, “Where do you know?”

“Well, see, we had a rendezvous. The team, I mean, in case we got separated, we had a secret meeting place.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything about this before?” I shouted.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to go back, after Azul got shot. I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

“You didn’t know if you could trust ME?” I shouted even louder.

“Frank, Jesus, she was scared, okay. Leave her alone,” Sandy said.

“Alright, your right. Fine. Shit. Let’s meet up with them. If they’re even still there. Maybe they all came to their senses and got outta town. I hope they got some more information. If this is turning out to be what I think it is, we’re going to need more witnesses, or we’re going to be spending a lot of time in prison. If we’re lucky.”

Admittedly, I felt some relief from having some sense of direction finally, but it was undercut by one other thing.

Detective Ross was going to be pissed.

REAL LIFE/REAL DEATH Chapter Twelve

“IN THOSE EYES”

The phone rang interminably.

“Hello?”

“Detective Ross?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“Ross, it’s Frank, Frank Calico.”

“Frank! What are you calling me for? You know the whole precinct is looking for you?”

“Yeah, I figured. Look, something big has gone down. I don’t know, I just…It’s big, okay. I want to talk to you. I thought I could handle this, but…I just don’t know. Things keep happening. I don’t even know what I’m trying to do anymore. I’m too paranoid, I guess. I need help. But, I need someone I can trust, okay?”

“Okay. Right. Well listen, I’m on my way home, why don’t you meet me there, okay?”

“I don’t have my car.”

“Well, alright, I’ll have somebody pick you up. Where are you?

“At Sandy’s.”

“Jesus, Frank. We just got a 911 call about some shootings over there. You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

“No, well, yeah, look I can’t…I can’t talk about it right now! Fuck.”

“Okay, okay, okay, calm down. There’s already some officers on their way over there. Just stay put. I’m on my way over, too.”

“Ross, I called you for a reason. I don’t trust cops right now.”

“Frank, now c’mon…”

“Don’t bullshit me and try to tell me there’s no such thing as corrupt cops, Ross. You of all people should fucking know that!

“You’re right, Frank. I’m sorry. Okay look, I’ll be there shortly. Just stay out of sight, and for the love of God don’t do anything stupid.”

“Fine.”

“Look, Frank…just relax okay. You’re going to be fine.”

I took a deep breath, couldn’t think of anything to say, and hung up the phone. I liked Ross, but I never knew how to talk to him. He was a good man. He was a responsible man. He was also responsible for me losing my job, but it’s hard to be mad at him. He was doing the right thing. I was in a bad place at the time. I don’t like to dwell on that time of my life.

I did feel a little relieved after getting off the phone with Ross. Everything got really fucked up over the last few days, and it was nice to know that everything would go back to normal. Well, as normal as it could, I guess. I made my way back to Jennifer, she was still sitting on the curb. She was looking up, staring at the stars, I guess. When she noticed me approaching, she buried her head between her knees and arms.

She was crying.

She did her best to cover it up, but it was still pretty obvious. Fuck. I didn’t know what was going on with this girl, but I was beginning to think it was too big for me. I was almost ready to just turn her over to Ross and be done with her.

“Jennifer,” I said, “I got a friend to come pick us up. He’s…he’s a cop, but he’s a good man. We can trust him. “

She didn’t look up, she just kept quietly crying. I stood there, trying to think of something to say. I was beginning to feel anxious about standing out here. I didn’t know how long it would take Detective Ross to get here, but I didn’t really want to talk to anyone else if I didn’t have to. I didn’t like to interrupt a crying woman, and couldn’t really think of how I would approach doing so. It didn’t matter, though. I never got the chance.

I felt the squad car pull into the parking lot before I ever saw it. Cops give off an aura; you can just feel whenever they are around. The cruiser pulled up in front of us, blinding us with its headlights and drenching everything else in alternating shades of red and blue.

An officer stepped out of the driver side door, followed by his partner on the passenger side. Even though the cruiser’s headlights were pointed right at us, he still drew his flashlight and shined it directly in my eyes. I squinted, unable to see.

“Hands where I can see them,” he said.

I already had my hands up trying to shield my eyes, but Jennifer didn’t move. I tried to keep their attention on me.

“Look, officers, I just spoke with Detective Ross and he’s on his way over…”

“Well, well, well,” he interrupted, “Frank Calico. I thought we’d find you here.”

My stomach turned upon hearing the way he spat out my name. It was that son of a bitch Koslowski. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

“So you talked to Ross, huh? Well, we’re responding to a 9-1-1 call. Seems somebody’s been shooting off some guns in the area. You know anything about that?”

“I’m only going to talk to Ross.”

“That a fact? Who’s your friend there; maybe she doesn’t have a problem talking to me.”

Jennifer finally looked up. I guess she was off in her own little world for a while there, because once she realized what was going on, she stood up as tense as possible.

“We’re both only going to talk to Ross,” I said resolutely. I hated this fucking asshole and had no problem giving him as much shit as possible, but I still had to watch my tongue. Ross already agreed to help me out and I didn’t want to fuck things up more than they already were. I was going to have deal with Koslowski as nicely as possible until Ross got here.

“Well then you can wait for him in the squad car, for your safety,” he said.

“Fine,” I said between gritted teeth.

“Hey Mike, what’s this?”

Koslowski’s partner picked up something small and thin off the ground. It wasn’t until he brought it over to Koslowski that I realized what it was.

“My mask!” Jennifer screamed. She shot up off the curb and snatched it out of their hands.

“Whoa, girl! What do you think you’re doing?” yelled Koslowski. Things were getting tense.

She clutched the mask to her chest, ignoring the irate cops.

“A mask? What the hell you need a mask for?” Koslowski’s partner asked.

“Shut up, Jerry,” Koslowski snapped, “Alright ma’am, I need you to cooperate with me and get into the car.”

Jennifer stood there, not even acknowledging the cops. I was starting to get a sickening feeling in my stomach.

“Ma’am, I will not ask you again.” Koslowski approached Jennifer and unhooked his handcuffs from his belt.

“Wait a minute, Koslowski,” I started, but was interrupted when he shinned his flashlight in my face.

“Shut your god damned mouth. I’m through fucking around here. Get in the fucking car!” he barked. Normally, I’d never let this little shit talk to me like that, but I was determined to keep myself from fucking this up for Ross. Koslowski put his flashlight away, but his partner, Jerry, kept his trained on the girl. Koslowski grabbed Jennifer’s wrist, forcing her to look up.

There was a single quiet moment when the whole city seemed to pause, waiting for a reaction. Now, verbal and physical abuse I could take, but I could not abide this piece of shit laying his hands on that poor girl. I felt a volcano build up inside of me. All my sickness and anger was boiling out of me and all I had to do was give it a target.

But I didn’t.

Before I could react, for that brief second when the world stopped and Jennifer and Koslowski were caught in the flashlight beam like actors on a stage, I saw Jennifer’s eyes. They were fixed directly on the hand gripped around her wrist. And in those eyes I saw a torrent of emotion that smothered all my rage and sickness.

Inglourious Basterds

I'm going to talk extensively about the movie, so be warned, there are spoilers aplenty.

It's long been my contention that Quentin Tarantino's movies work so well because they are self aware genre pieces, each one seemingly more so it's predecessor. Inglourious Basterds is no exception. Like Kill Bill and Death Proof before, Tarantino is going for a deliberate "genre mash up" style, done in such a way as only he can do. Also similarly to Death Proof, Tarantino is making a movie about movies. But where Death Proof was primarily about the portrayal of women and men in horror movies, Inglourious Basterds reaches for a bigger goal, that of racism in America, and it's manipulation through Hollywood.

The film opens, appropriately enough, with "The Green Leaves of Summer", a song originally used as the opening to John Wayne's own War/Western film, The Alamo. Aside from being a good song that sets a wonderful mood, this connection to John Wayne provides a direct link to the old American Western Films that Tarantino will be will be commenting on in Inglourious Basterds.

The first chapter introduces us to Landa, the ruthless Nazi officer known as the "Jew Hunter". Landa is charged with hunting down all the Jews hiding in France, the new territory that the Nazi's have taken by force. Landa himself is intelligent, charming, and poetic in nature, but beneath that lies a horribly racist, murderous, madman. He is despicable, but also frightening. Tarantino does a fantastic job of giving us a great villain that would be at home in any classic War film, which becomes a little unsettling when you remember that it's not just a War film, but also a Western film. Yes, this is a Western, and the Nazis are representations of the Manifest Destiny Americans.

The Nazi's are our "cowboys" and in the second chapter we are introduced to our "Indians", the American Jewish soldiers known as the Basterds. Tarantino draws a lot of parallels between the American Indian and the Basterds. The Basterds' only mission is to terrorize the Nazis. They do this through guerrilla warfare, which includes scalping dead Nazis, brutally beating prisoners to death, and carving swastikas on the foreheads of the survivors. The scalping plays a significant part in the movie. It's important to remember that scalping was not a widespread practice among Native Americans, quite the contrary, European colonists paid Native American's bounties for the scalps of their enemies. The savagery of scalping was something that was grafted onto Native American's and portrayed as natural through Hollywood Westerns. In the same fashion, Tarantino's Jews learn from the Nazi's. Just as the Nazi's branded Jews with the Star of David, the Basterds brand the Nazi's by carving the swastika into their foreheads.

In the fourth chapter, Tarantino drives home the metaphorical point even further when the undercover Basterds have a confrontation with a Gestapo officer. The group play a bar game that involves trying to guess(through a series of questions) the name of a famous person(real or fictional) written down by the person next to you. The Gestapo officer's card reads King Kong. After a series of guesses he learns that he was "born in the jungle, came to America on a boat, was not benefited by his arrival, and imprisoned(or something along those lines)" and unsuccessfully concludes that he is "the story of the black man in America". When he's told that he is wrong, he matter of factly states, "Oh, then I must be King Kong." Tarantino speaks the universal language of film. Everybody knows King Kong, and if you didn't think about it being an allegory for racism, he expects that you do now, and if you're willing to accept that, then you may be ready to look for the same allegories in his film.

Inglourious Basterds has a fairly straightforward Western plot, but told with Nazi's and Jews in place of cowboys and Indians, and in doing so, gives us a movie where we effectively root against John Wayne, the Hollywood Cowboy icon.

But as I said earlier, this is also a War film, but Tarantino isn't as interested in looking at the effects of War as he is in looking at the effects of War Films(it's a movie about movies remember). The rest of the movie focuses of the War Film as propaganda. The Nazi's made many propaganda films portraying the superiority of the Aryan and the inferiority of the Jew(similarly, Western Films champion the superiority of the White Man over the savagery of the Red Man).

The other story that runs concurrent with the Basterds story is the story of Shosanna, the young Jewish girl who survived Landa's brutal assault in the first chapter. She is now living under an assumed identity and owns a movie theater. After meeting Frederick Zoller, a Nazi parody of Audie Murphey, her identity becomes endangered when he falls in love with her and wants to screen his latest film in her theater. This leads to the climax of the movie where the top members of the Nazi party, including Hitler himself, attend the movie.

The Basterds infiltrate the theater, with the intention of blowing it up. Shosanna intends to burn it all down. As the plans unfold, we being seeing the Nazi propaganda film, a film in which the young Nazi star does nothing but shoot down American soldiers in a violent fashion, all the while the Nazi movie patrons cheer as the Americans are shot down. But then Shosanna's secret plan is put into action. She has recorded her own message over the ending of the Nazi propaganda film in which she proclaims that she's going to burn the building down with everyone trapped inside and they should know that "the Nazi's will die by the hand of a Jew". A fire is started using the theater's film cache, which burns three times faster than paper. As the message plays, the theater is engulfed in flames. The Basterds, their plan having completely fallen apart, improvise by grabbing machine guns and repeatedly mowing down Nazis. Ironically, we are now cheering at a scene in which the Americans do nothing but shoot down the Nazis in a violent fashion. This all culminates in the big scene where Hitler is riddled with bullets. Even after he is dead, and they've moved on to shooting the movie patrons, one of the Basterds makes it a point to go back and continue shooting Hitler until he is no longer recognizable.

So, what we have here is Hitler, in a movie theater, being butchered beyond recognition by films, while a movie announces his death at the hands of Jews. With the understanding that many power players in Hollywood are Jewish, and the fact that for the last sixty years Hitler(and Nazis in general) have been torn down so completely by Hollywood to the point of being cartoonish villains, I'd say it's a fairly accurate portrayal of what happened to Hitler.

Inglourious Basterds raises a lot of points about Hollywood's control over our perceptions, and plays our expectations of genre against us to give us a movie that might be deeper than it initially wants you to believe. I immensely enjoyed it, even if it didn't feel as tight as Pulp Fiction or as superficially awesome as Kill Bill.