City of Dark Corners

He stared at me. “Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…”

Then he came fast, very fast for a big man, and ripped me up from the chair. Next, I was hanging backward over the railing with his hands around my throat.

“Go easy, lad, and at this speed it will be over in no time at all. Only a little pain, then sweet oblivion.”

But I wasn’t going easy. I brought my knee up and connected with his groin. He let go. I gasped sweet breath and rose to my feet as he threw a haymaker in my direction. But he was off-balance, hurting in his balls, and I easily evaded the punch. I delivered a series of my own sharp jabs to his eyes and gut and kneed him in the groin again for good measure. He was bent nearly to the floor, groaning.

“Stay down. I’m taking you back to Phoenix under arrest.”

He moaned, “That will never happen, lad.”

In an instant he threw himself past me and was over the brass railing. I don’t know if my punches had blinded him or if this was deliberate, suicide. Then he had second thoughts and grasped the railing desperately.

I braced myself and brought my arm toward him. “Reach up, Liam, and take my hand!”

The ties and ballast flew beneath him. His eyes were full of terror.

“No, lad. But thank you for trying.”

He let go.

I watched his body tumble hard onto the railbed, roll and roll, arms and legs akimbo, until it was devoured by darkness.