Omerta

When they arrived at Salvatori’s place in the quarry, the sledge and drill were propped against a stone where the lad had placed them the night before. A rusted tin can sat on top of the stone. “I wonder who put this can here?” Salvatori said. Dominick was busy examining the drill bit. “This drill is dull. Why didn’t you leave it for the blacksmith to sharpen?” The boy looked at the bit. “I thought it would be alright. Besides, I don’t have the money to pay him.” Dominick shook his head in disgust. “We can’t work with this, the stone is too hard here.” He picked the drill up, balancing it carefully over his shoulder. “look, the blacksmith owes me a favor. Why don’t you start breaking some of these larger stones until I get back.?” As he started up the tracks toward the company’s buildings something kept nagging at him. Something was wrong. When he tried to brush the feelings aside, he recalled Rocco’s warning. Suddenly, Dominick remembered the rusty can and the silvery liquid spilled on the rock beside it. Contemplating what it could be, he turned to look back. Salvatori had picked up the sledgehammer. The can was too tempting a target. Dominick watched the boy raise the hammer over his head, saw it ark toward the rock and the rusty can. The warning shout was just forming on his lips when a blinding flash knocked him flat. Dominick barely heard the explosion as he instinctively threw his arms over his face. Bits of stone and dirt came hurtling from the sky. Something warm and wet splattered across his shirt sleeve. His eyes burned, and he held them tight shut for a while. The roaring sound in his head drowned everyting. Choking and gasping for air he tried to stand up, but it felt as though the earth tilted and he was falling. He forced his eyes open. Slowly objects begun to focus. He looked at the wet thing on his arm. A bloody piece of intestine clung jelly-like to his arm. Vomit filled his mouth and ran out his nose. Suddenly Dominick was on his knees, gagging and sobbing. He felt hands pulling at him, lifting him to his feet. The men spent the rest of the morning picking up the few pieces of the boy that was left. Then, as was their custom, they took the rest of the day off. Some men helped Dominick to his bed, while Mrs. Carpellotti fussed over him like a godmother. He was unhurt, except for a persistent roaring and dizziness in his head plus cuts and bruises from falling debris. When the others left, Dominick looked at Rocco and Julio Carpellotti. “There was nitro in the can, wasn’t there?” Rocco and Julio glanced at each other, then nodded. “We must tell the authorities.” Rocco glared at him a long moment. “It was you they were after,” he said quietly.