Ember to Inferno: A Mafia Tale

Prologue

The fish and fries spat their oil back into the cook’s face as the chef poured them into the fryer as he let out a cuss.

Frying food smells great, but it’s a bitch to cook.

When an individual lives, breathes, and cleans oil for a lifetime, it becomes torture though, and today was no exception to that fact.

Unrefrigerated deep frying in oxidized oil - It stuck to his skin and flushed his cheeks even more than the high temperature in the room did.

Tonight at the restaurant, the patrons in the dining room were growing irritable in their long backup in the kitchen.

Dish after dish was being rejected by the restaurant’s manager.

This, of course, went hand in hand with yelling back and forth between the chefs and the manager.

Could the patrons in the dining room hear all of this happening?

Perhaps.

The chef lifted his head as he began to hear toddlers in the dining room beginning to cry - A dead giveaway of a night that had gone amiss.

One child will hear another crying, and soon, their suffering has gone universally viral.

When that happens, it’s the little things that one begins to notice about the night’s details.

The hot grease at every small splash burning into his  skin.

The sweat on your brow as it begins to get into your eyes.

The cramps in the leg as you try to stay as still as possible using the filet knife.

All of this while trying to keep any minor inconvenience from derailing the night any worse that it already is.

That’s par for the course while working in the back end of a quasi-five-star restaurant.

There’s only one thing, stress. And the funny thing is that it begins to turn into a lifestyle. The beauty in the mundane! As the older folks in the business say.

Except that there is no beauty. If you don’t have a game plan, it’s easy to turn to cigarette breaks and the occasional bump in the bathroom to keep the blood flowing. The kitchen becomes one’s refuge, and as friendships and romantic relationships begin to pass you by, you realize the industry has you by the balls.

That’s when the age-old insult of Get a life! begins to take on a whole new meaning. People begin to lose their minds. Maybe some will go on to become life coaches, mechanics, or heirs to a family business.

Others will get into crime.

For if you ask a lifelong entry-level chef as to why he has endured the suffering and hardships for so long, he will respond, Well, I’ve come to like the adrenaline.

It seeps into the bloodstream at the worst time in the night; When the rotten fish is bubbling itself over in panko and in a sudden moment of clarity one realizes that cilantro will help to cut the odor and acidity of the rotten flesh at the core of the pasta dish.

When the crescendo of crying children is finally served their mac and cheese and the parents have gotten their filet mignons, they all leave with a smile on their face.

When the next table that comes in is a table of ten and supplies for the night are running low, the joy of creative expression allows the sous chef to innovate, disguise and blend dishes to make sure that everyone is served.

Even for those that leave the industry, the adrenaline is a hard thing to leave behind.

The rush.

For those that turn to crime to get their fix, it will ultimately be their undoing; Whether that time behind bars or an untimely drug overdose, there is no happy ending for those who turn to crime to get their fix.

6:56 AM

The tinted-out windows of the sprinter van rolled down the street like a stray drop of water on a windshield.

It majestically weaved in and out of the traffic around it as it gathered pace.

If anyone were to notice from their sidewalk commute to work, they would have noticed how much faster the van was moving than the rest of the other cars.

Inside the van though, it was quiet.

Each man in the six-person crew had begun to brandish their weapon; Shotguns, silenced pistols, and even a baseball bat.

As they pulled into the parking lot though, the driver slapped the side of the van, breaking the silence to alert his crew that they had arrived at their destination.

As the brakes halted, the driver opened the rear doors for them as they hopped out one by one sporting their masks in anonymity.

Luckily, the parking lot was quieter than normal, just like they had prepared for.

Just as they had left the van, one by one they entered through the rotating doors of the marble-ladened business.

The first people notice during a bank robbery are the guns of the bad guys, followed by the masks that they’re wearing..

A single shot was fired into the air as the small morning crowd in the bank let out a collective scream, Everyone get on the fucking ground!

If they hadn’t known a robbery was going down, they did now.

The robbers spread out like ants to carry out their individual tasks - Occupying space, yelling out threats of violence, and corralling everyone down to the ground.

Each man carried out their duty to perfection as their internal clocks had begun a timer on what little time they had to carry out their mission.

One of the men had noticed someone not co-operating as much as the others; A woman in a red dress.

She could not control her whimpers nor breathing as she continually shifted in place behind the counter she had been working at.

Not only did they have to pay close attention to her, but it also detracted from the time that they could spend monitoring the others while the rest of their crew worked on cracking the safe in the back.

As one of the crew walked over to her, he noticed the cell phone illuminated with the screen of a call in progress, You fucking bitch.

Instinctively, he pulled his trigger. 

The bullet hit the marble floor, causing a plume of dust as the bullet hole in the middle of her palm began to leak blood.

In a fit of panic, the woman tried to make her way to the exit in desperation as she whimpered to herself in the echoing room.

In a state of shock at how loud the marble impact had been, all the shooter could do was watch her.

Behind the one way mirrors, the woman’s screams and banging were enough for a bank customer wondering why the doors were locked to take note of the dilemma.

The shooter paused, grabbing at his pants anxiously, What do we fucking do? What do we fucking do? He called out to the others.

It was a break from their practiced movements and internal clocks of how this job was supposed to go down – Improvisation was not in their cards.

In the back end of the bank, it had been clear sailing as the vault cracked open with a familiar clink as the team of three pressed through the door.

In the main hall, the shooter finally regained his confidence as he grasped onto the warmth of his pistol, raising it to take aim at the woman flailing at the windows.

As he pulled the trigger, his partner had desperately attempted to lower the barrel; Their intention was never to kill.

The echo of the shot had roared through the hall, followed closely by silence once again.

The bullet had gone through the back of the woman’s shin, ricocheted off of the floor, and impacted with the large pane of glass that spanned from the floor to the twenty-foot ceiling of the interior of the bank.

Although it had not shattered, the pair could see that a man that had been paying attention outside of the bank immediately began to run away in a panic.

At the base of the window, the woman passed out as hyperventilation took over her breathing.

The rhythm of the operation had been put off, and the calculated maneuvers of the team in the back had been slowed to a halt as they wondered what was happening in the front end.

In their lapse of judgment, one of the men loading their briefcase had forgotten to properly check the stack as the thudding explosion of ink ruined everything within five feet of itself - An ink trap dedicated to ruining just this occasion.

God fucking damnit! We gotta get out of here, this shit is over.

As the back-end team emerged to rejoin the others in the lobby, several of the men were covered head to toe with the debris of the decoy bill’s ink.

Corrosive and adhesive by nature, there was no removing it anytime soon.

Whispers had begun to spread among the civilians lying down on the ground as they looked at the robbers that had entered confidently just minutes ago.

As they exited the bank, the sound of sirens in the distance caught their attention. It was still early dawn, and the sun wasn’t quite up yet, but on their right they could see the woman in the red dress crawling away on the sidewalk, We gotta fucking go.

Quickly, they entered the back of the van one by one, with only a few duffel bags in hand.

7:04 AM

As the van began to make its way towards the exit of the lot, the only sound the men could hear was the quiet humming of the supercharged engine. The sirens in the distance had faded away, and there were no lights in the back cabin to keep them company.

It was just them and their thoughts.

The escape driver didn’t like what he had seen in the far corner of the lot though.

Although he couldn’t see the cars, he had seen their headlights shut off, one by one.

While he tried to tuck away the thought to the back of his mind, he knew better. Within seconds, the headlights had re-emerged much closer, accompanied by police sirens and the flashing blue and red lights.

From experience, the driver casually drove to the congested part of the lot as he shut off his own lights to try to blend in, They don’t know what they’re looking for yet. Everyone just keep calm back there. He called to the back.

The van rolled to a stop at a wedge between several sedans as all the men held their bated breaths.

The first car that passed them was a Dodge Charger, its reinforced grill slightly glimmering in the morning dew.

As it passed, it slowed down before reversing right into plain view in front of the van. A single cop exited the vehicle cautiously, surveying the area before slowly approaching the heavily tinted van with a gun drawn.

The driver was the first to notice the incoming backup in the distance - Reinforced black and white SUVs from the county sheriff’s department which had sealed off each exit of the parking lot.

The driver’s yellow aviators turned back to the bank’s direction.

Near the bank, a pair of officers were standing relaxed beside each other, and another one on their left was tending to the woman in the red dress.

The civilians from inside the bank had begun to corral around the front entrance and were properly distracting the officers.

If the driver had a chance to escape, it was during this confusion.

As the officer pulled up to the driver’s side window with a flashlight, the driver clicked the engine back on and throttled forward.

His wheels roared over the curb in front of them and began to spin rapidly in the soft grass and mud beneath.

From the back cabin, all the men could hear was the shouting of officers from all directions.

The interior of the van rocked violently as the wheels slammed over the other side of the garden and back onto concrete.

In the middle of the lot, the driver scanned the horizon of armed officers barreling towards their direction as he slammed on the brakes.

In the rearview, there was only one exit that they had a chance at.

He rapidly churned the van into reverse, launching all occupants forward in their seats.

As the van picked up speed, a cruiser narrowly avoided a collision as the van rocked over the garden’s curb once again.

The cabin’s shaking was beginning to increase with each passing second as the man began to increasingly feel the hum of their seats, What are you fucking doing up there, man?

The driver stayed composed but responded quickly, Will you shut the fuck up back there?

His voice croaked as he finished the sentence, a sign of his pulsing adrenaline.

The pelting of bullets had begun within one hundred meters of the exit as the cops realized that the infamous crew did not plan on stopping at their barricade.

The bulletproof reinforcements on the van were working, but the deafening thuds were enough to cause the driver to miss his narrow exit window between two cruiser’s bumpers as the screeching of metal became deafening.

As the driver regained his sense of whereabouts from the impact, several officers had run close enough to the windshield to have a clean shot at the sprinter without risking crossfire.

Pull over! Stop the vehicle. The microphone called out.

Fuck these cocksuckers. The driver whispered to himself.

The van’s wheels screamed as they lurched back into reverse.

The van’s windshield began to spray white as it absorbed more and more shots into its bullet-proof glass.

The coast was now clear.

With a quick rocking, the van whipped around 180 degrees as the gear was changed back into drive as the accelerator was floored.

Are you all awake back there? The driver shouted as he peered through the gate between him and the trunk.

From his small view, it was obvious that a cash bag had ripped, causing piles of cash to be free floating on the floor.

I’ve had worse from a whore that gets paid by the hour, what’s the plan? One of the robbers shouted back.

I’m going to head downtown. Think of an underground lot we can scatter and torch this thing at.

On it. A faint voice returned.

Meanwhile, several armored cruisers were gaining.`

As the cops approached from both sides along the long and empty stretch of road towards the downtown core’s highrises, it became clear that the law enforcement were faster than the battered van.

The driver watched in nervousness from the rearview as they crept closer along the horizon.

The men in the back were unaware of the situation as they scoured their phones for a viable parking lot to disappear into.

In the high speeds, the torn metal on the back doors had air screaming violently into the cab as the stacks of cash flew all around them.

One of the SUV’s had closed in on them within striking distance and attempted to ram them from the right.

The sprinter had no choice but to roll with the force of the larger vehicle as it collided with the raised left shoulder of the highway.

As the grinding began to slow both vehicles down, the other SUV saw the chance to overtake and pin the criminals.

It lurched in front of them, and began to hit its brakes.

However, it was just what the driver had been waiting for.

He slammed his own brakes and turned a hard right, perfectly pitting the first SUV into the barrier in front of him.

As the SUV wedged off the front bumper, it lurched the van forwards and into the barrier on the right.

The men in the back were bounced around off the ride’s interior walls, Will you at least give us a fucking head’s up before you pull off crazy shit? Jesus Christ!

The driver could barely hear them through the howling wind and revving engine though.

As the speed of the van began to pick up, it became clear that something in the engine block had been compromised.

The SUV was hot on their trail as the city’s lights in the morning sky began to seem like an impossible trek away.

The driver shouted at his passengers in his own sense of urgency, What are we looking at back there? We can’t hold out too much longer. Something’s off with the steering.

Looking at five minutes away, two blocks to the left of the boardwalk Greenery Park.

The driver nodded in acknowledgment as his naturally icy veins took over his thinking and his eyes focused on the upcoming barrier break.

The van coolly slowed down to make the swerve into the oncoming traffic as the pursuer followed suit closely behind.

The heat from the sunrise and city had begun to erode the morning’s fog and a set of headlights appeared in the distance coming towards them.

As the gap closed between the three vehicles on the road, the van took a direct collision course with the slowing car as the SUV pulled off to the right.

In the moments leading to a direct impact, the driver noticed the whites of the man’s eyes became visible through the battered windshield, Crazy shit warning! He screamed back.

The civilian’s white Civic veered at the last moment to the van’s right.

The reaction was too little too late however, as the rear end did not clear the front bumper of the van.

The small commuter was spun in its hasty escape as it launched directly into the SUV that had never had a chance at reacting.

The last thing the crew saw through the ravaged metal view of the outside was the white plume of each vehicle's airbags deploying.

God fucking damnit, what was that shit?

Shut up, The driver yelled back, Where are we going?

7:11 AM

In three blocks, turn left, and then right after two blocks.

Although the ride had become bumpy from the damage, the sirens in the background were far enough back to not arouse any concerns as the group let out a collective sigh.

The sidewalks and streets were still empty as not even the tent cities had begun to wake.

The group had begun to celebrate their loot as they shuffled the loose piles of cash back into bags that still had space. As they pulled into a lot, each man had begun to hug each other in the back cab.

The van settled into a busier spot in the second underground floor as