Gin Palace 02 - The Bone Orchard

seemed aware of this, hesitated, then proceeded to wade into the heavy surf.
    I didn’t move from the overturned boat, just sat there and watched. Again, it was Frank’s show and had nothing to do with me. This was as far as I agreed to come.
    The man took several steps forward, then was hit by a wave and stumbled and fell into the water. He struggled to keep his head up but to no avail. Frank yelled at him again and the man got to his feet and paused. He embraced his torso with his arms to keep warm and began to turn his head back to look at Frank. Frank fired the .45 once, into the ocean, and the man turned forward again.
    I stood up from the boat then. The gunshot was a momentary crack in the broad night sky, and then it was gone, swallowed up by the sound of the incoming waves.
    Frank yelled at the man again and the man started forward, wading in up to his waist. He got past the waves and stood chest deep in freezing water.
    I had no idea what Frank was doing. I stayed by the overturned boat and called, “Frank,” but he didn’t hear me. I just didn’t see how a man dead from exposure could help Augie any, so I started down the beach toward Frank. He was calling something to the man but I couldn’t hear what it was. I could see though that Frank was caught up in something almost wild.
    “Frank.”
    He acknowledged me but did not take his eyes off the man in the ocean. “Stay out of this, Mac.”
    “What the fuck are you doing?”
    “I’m finding out the name of the man who hired him.”
    “Looks to me like you’re drowning him.”
    “He didn’t want to talk.”
    “Maybe he didn’t know.”
    “I don’t think he’ll die to keep that secret.”
    “Put the gun down, Frank.”
    “Stay out of this, Mac. You’ve done your bit, now go home.”
    “Not like this, Frank.”
    “What?”
    “I can’t let you do this. Put down the gun.” I called to the man in the water. “Get out. C’mon, get out.”
    He didn’t take his eyes off of Frank. He was chest deep in the icy water, battered by relentless waves, but still he was unwilling to move.
    “Frank, he doesn’t know anything. Let him out.”
    “Stay out of it, Mac.”
    “Put the gun down, Frank.”
    “Stay the fuck out of it.”
    “You can’t do this, Frank.”
    Frank called to the man, “Who hired you?”
    The man could not answer. He could barely remain above the water. He slipped under once and came up again immediately. He was coughing, hacking seawater out of his lungs.
    “You can’t do this, Frank.”
    “Stay out of it, Mac.”
    “If he drowns, whatever he might know goes with him.”
    “He knows. He’ll tell us.”
    “Frank, I’m telling you for the last time, put the gun down.”
    “This is Augie’s life, MacManus. Don’t you want to save Augie’s life?”
    “Not like this.”
    “You piece-of-shit pussy. I had you pegged from the start. You’re a loser, MacManus. You’re the worst kind of loser. You’re not willing to do what it takes. You’re a pussy and you’d rather fuck Augie’s daughter than keep him out of jail – “
    He was facing me then, his mouth twisted with anger and rage. The first thing I threw was a head butt, smashing his nose. I leapt forward and clung to him and raked my thumbnails across his eyes, which he had instinctively closed. After that I went straight for the .45 in his right hand. I grabbed the barrel and peeled the gun from his grip, securing it in my left hand. With my right I slapped him in the balls and he dropped to the ground. I released the clip from the .45 and tossed it down the beach. I ejected the chambered round and threw it in the opposite direction. Then I dropped the empty .45 into the sand by my feet and ran to the edge of the water.
    I ran into the ocean. The water that splashed up stung my face, but that was the least of it. I grabbed the man and held him to me as I walked back on rubbery legs toward the shore.
    The waves pushed us forward, and we collapsed side by side on our backs on the sand. My clothes were soaked again, brutal cold pressing against every part of my body. The man with the limp was hacking and puking. After a moment he looked over at me. There was sand on his face and he could barely breathe. He was only slightly more sober now. Neither of us said anything. Then he pulled himself up, took one more look at me, then limped across the beach, toward the dunes beyond which lay Road D. He moved desperately, as quickly as the sand and his limp and his