The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

It was the blackest night. The rain was coming down, but not in such torrential spurts. Beyond midnight it had dissipated into a simple, quiet sprinkle that actually felt relaxing to one's skin. Livingston, with his black parka wrapped around his upper body, came out of the mouth of the cave while in the midst of lighting a cigarette. The pungent aroma of burning Ganga hung in the air while the sounds of bats' wings flapping in the night could be heard nearby.

The worn man, with his pistol secured in his right pocket, came to the very edge of the mountain and stood. He looked down into the black, cavernous bottom and listened at the various nighttime creatures that dwelt from within.

"Fucking disgusting country," he spat down the mountain with such spiteful vigor.

"Say dere." A voice sounded out all of the sudden.

Livingston wasn't even startled. He just turned around to see a tiny glow with a silhouette behind it drawing closer and closer to him. The nearer the silhouette approached the more the smell of Ganga reeked into Livingston's nostrils causing him to blow the stench away.

"You and the rest of them are gonna smoke your brains out with the shit." Livingston took a puff of his cigarette.

Philippe, with his head underneath his own parka, approached Livingston and attempted to hand the man his pipe only to have Livingston refuse.

"You know I don't care for that." Livingston snickered.

"It good for de lungs, mon," Philippe snorted.

"We'll see if you say that when you're sixty, mate." Livingston smirked.

The two men stood at the edge of the mountain and smoked on and on before Philippe spoke up and asked, "Where did he say he was going again?"

"He never did say. But then again, do you really care?"

Philippe just turned his head as a response. Livingston looked all around at the darkness before spitting again down the mountain.

"Dat's why me and de boys smoke dis, mon, so we won't have to remember his face."

Livingston looked over at the young man with the cockiest expression. "You and those other fellas have been smoking that stuff since you were boys. Who do you think you're fooling?"

him,

been seeing him for years now. I just can't believe

shined his lantern all around before looking back at Livingston. "How ya get used to dat?" He pitched his pipe down the mountain's edge. "All

"From a nightmare," Livingston cut in. "Yeah, I know. Believe me, I

It took at least two hours to get her to calm down. She even talkin' 'bout killing

and the others to make sure she holds off on that till after I dynamite that cave. Arthur said we're digging in the right place, so it shouldn't be too much

spun around and stared into the

asked, "What, are you shaking in

directions while Livingston just stood and marveled

when I say, he won't be back for a

"Me and de others

you and me both," Livingston

his lantern to Livingston's face and queried, "I guess ya go back to

likely. Not with Interpol still on my tail. Nope, Cuba is my next

"What's

a lot of those old Nazi bastards are hiding

"It sounds like a

of it, they're not too fond of mine either. But I think I have a better chance of blending in. Why not move to America? With the wealth your about to receive you'll be a star up there. God knows there's nothing here in this country for

nuting here but de rain and de

that second with a subtle grin

should be used

off guard, Philippe replied, "How ya

long drag of his cigarette, Livingston regretfully

grew up hearing about dem." Philippe explained. "At first,

you

shook his head up and down before saying, "But you know

snorting and replying, "The first time I met them, they appeared just like your average islander. But then again, there was always something off about the five of them. Then of course, I got the misfortune of