The Wheelman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a thriller story about a man that goes past the lengths for revenge. It is rather a sad tale without question.

Submitted: July 15, 2017

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Submitted: July 15, 2017

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Kenny Monday sat in the kitchen with his two children running around with no course of consequence. His other child is a teenager – and a girl that had more time making trouble than ever now. His wife, Heather has dark circles under her eyes when she came in through the back door with two grocery bags handled with care, looking like she has not slept in over three days when the days got colder and the children are inside more than ever now.

“Honey,” Heather asked Kenny.

“Can you help me with these?” She felt like she took another dose of Ambien when Kenny got up from her seat to help her.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” She smiled with tears streaking down her face.

“I love my children but I need a break. I need a break so bad that I feel pins pricking my mind.”

Kenny smiled, patting and rubbing her back when the three children came into the kitchen, fighting over a plush toy that they found on top of the toy box in one of their rooms.

“Mine!” The middle child scream at the youngest child that is pulling with all of his might.

“No, it’s mine!” The youngest child pried with the plush toy ripping almost in two.

That is when Kenny intervened with his hands coming in both of his children’s views.

“That’s enough. Go do your homework.”

“But I already did my fractions.” The middle child told her father that is rolling his eyes.

“I don’t care what you do; just go be apart from each other. I don’t want to hear no more out of you or you’ll upset your mother.” Kenny gently swatted them on the behind when he grabbed the plush toy from both of them and set it on the counter space.

“I want my toy.” The middle child spoke when Kenny gave him the look.

“See what you did?” The oldest child, a teenager says with her nose in her phone spoke to both of them before they left.

“I don’t want to hear any smack out of you, missy.” Kenny prodded to look at her phone when she reeled away with her feelings hurt.

“You better not be talking to that boy. He’s no good!”

“I love him daddy, MOM!!!” She called her mother that only looked out the window in the kitchen, closing her eyes and licking her top lip with her blood pressure going up.

“You know he went to jail for selling narcotics and if I see you talking to him face to face, I’ll call the cops and cart him back there again.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, I’m fourteen years old.” She spoke to her mother without even making eye contact when Kenny grabbed the phone out of her hand.

“No phone, one week.” Kenny pointed at her.

“I can’t live without my phone!” She replied, appalled.

“You should have thought about that before you got lippy, now go.” Kenny commanded her out of the kitchen when Heather smiled.

“I glad you stepped up to them.” She smiled.

***

 The dark cloud folded over to the present time as Kenny sat in the bar, still trying to place the pieces together.

“Barkeep, give me another beer.” Kenny raised his empty Labatt Blue from the wet ring that is upon the bar.

The barkeep is a young girl came up to him, wearing a skanky low-cut shirt when she told him that he didn’t get the first time, he asked her what she said.

“I can’t give you another beer. You already drank fourteen beers. I’m cutting you off.”

“C’mon honey, I can hold my own.” Kenny tapped the beer on the bar when someone at the end of the bar came up out of the seat.

The guy is the bouncer of the place. He looks like the kind of guy that doesn’t want to be screwed around with.

“Okay, I won’t have any more beer.” She told her, smiling as she went away.

No harm, no foul. The thing that is hurting him the most is that she is gone and she is never coming back. That is too painful for her to bear.

He felt the wave of drunkenness enter into warp 8 in his Star Trek lingo when he moved off from the stool of the bar, trying not to bump anyone on the way out when he plundered through the front door, feeling the brash of cold outside when he inhaled then exhaled.

Ahh, such sweet cold; Kenny thought when he heard the sound of an approaching engine gunning through the night. Kenny knew he is too drunk to drive when he handled himself near the edge of the road and handled himself loosely. He felt like he is about to lose consciousness when he felt the headlights upon him, nimbly holding his thumb up as the engine became more clear as the transmission in the car dropped down, seeing the brake lights come on when the car stopped in front of him ever so smoothly.

The guy moved over and rolled the window down upon the old crank when Kenny marveled at the 1971 Mercury Cougar that is sitting in front of him with not a dent or a speck of rust on it. The guy looks to be in his 40’s with not a hair on his chin, looking callus and cool like the guys were back in the day when the Bad Boys were the coolest people on the face of the planet. The leather duster that is upon his shoulders gleamed in the light that is coming from the moon, cutting into the clean windows like something comfortable as slipping in a warm bath in middle of a terrible winter.

“Have a little too much, I’m taken?” The driver spoke in deep tones behind the wheel of the Cougar. His voice sounds little like John Wayne when Kenny shrugged, looking more pitiful than ever before.

“Just on my way home, can you give me a lift?” Kenny asked the guy.

Ten minutes later, he sat in the shotgun seat of the guy’s car.

“This is a fine car you have.” Kenny admired the long dashboard and the Radial dials that are poking light upon the driver’s face, looking more menacing than comforting for Kenny that realized it.

“Thank you. I got it from a guy out west that had to sell it. He was an old boy that was getting too long in the tooth to drive like a bat out of hell.” The guy smiled, casting a dim sense of black on his face.

“My name is Frank Dodson from Philly, nice to meet ya’.” Frank extended his hand from the wheel. Kenny took that hand and pumped it three times in comfort, looking through the front windshield at the yellow painted line that spurred intervals in his advanced stage of weary drunkenness.

“Frank from Philly, I never met a guy from Philly before.” Kenny smiled with some spit coming out of the side of his mouth.

“Yeah, I get that a lot out here. People get that from tourist as well in Philly.” Frank laughed behind the wheel of his car when he shifted the car down with his right hand doing the movements, hitting up the stop sign that is next to Kenny’s door when he told Frank where he lives at. Frank turned to him and cocked his head.

“Mmm,” He moaned.

“That is in my path of where I’m going. Say, do you know a woman by the name of Heather Allison?”

Kenny dropped his mouth and looked at him with drowning horror.

“Heather was my wife? How do you know her?” Kenny felt the wound rip open inside of him.

“She…was my old boyfriend.” Frank looked both way and turned right on the four-way stopped, running through the gears with his foot and his right hand.

“How long ago,” Kenny asked him. “I never knew that Heather was in Philadelphia before?”

“Did she ever tell you?”

“Told me what?” Kenny replied with his anger bubbling up inside of him.

“She spent time in Philadelphia when her mother moved her there. She went to school in Boston Public for two years.” Frank placed both of his hands on the wheel again when Kenny tried to wrap this around his head.

“I think you must be talking about Heather Allison with someone I don’t know about.” Kenny looked at the road that is hazing by him at a speed of light in his state of drunkenness.

“No, I don’t think so. Heather Allison was born in September, on the 14th.”

Kenny felt the cab of the Cougar get smaller in the haze that is growing, growing, growing further into the pit of his heart that is swallowing it all around him. Frank is right; his former wife’s birthday is September 14th. Who in the hell is this guy really anyway.

“I like to see her again. Boy, do I ever. We had some times.” Frank continued to keep his hands on the wheel. That is when he looked at Kenny who is only looking at the road, only seeing side profile of the sweat that is coming off of his forehead.

“You said, ‘was’?”

Kenny turned his head and tried to remember what he is implying. Then he remembered.

“I’m glad no one told you. Heather was murdered.” Kenny fought back the pain that is in his heart when Frank’s color left his face.

Kenny wondered why it is so cold. He wondered when he spoke the words, seeing his breath come out of his mouth. He figured why it is so damn cold? The windows are rolled up and the cold outside is not that cold. The inside of the cab is colder than the air outside. Why?

“Who would do such a thing?” Frank kept both hands upon the wheel of the Mercury, 10 and 2 when Kenny remembered the scene of the crime. He remembered it like yesterday when Kenny only closed his eyes for what seemed like forever.

“Some people in the world are monsters. That is why they are getting away with it. The monsters are nothing but creatures in the world that should be put down.” Kenny placed both of his hand upon his thighs when Frank fixed his mirror that is upon the windshield.

“What do you say we get something to eat? There is an all-night McDonald’s around here if I remember correctly. I only been here for three weeks so I might get a little lost.”

Kenny knew of the McDonald’s when he gave him directions there. Twenty minutes later they were sitting in the cougar, eating burgers with the radio on in low-volume. There are no clouds in the sky tonight as Frank said nothing for the longest time, being lost in trance with the radial dials glaring back at him when Kenny zapped him out of the trance, almost dropping his burger.

“You know,” Kenny felt like he is almost going to sleep with the burger almost dropping from his hand.

“I only met you tonight. I’m not that easy.”

Frank only gave him an odd stare before looking over the hood of the car, laughing heinously when he put the burger back in the wrapper. Frank licked the special sauce from his index finger.

“Did you and Heather have any kids?” Frank asked him when Kenny took a long time to answer him.

“Yeah, three; they don’t want anything to do with me though. I treated them horribly when their mother was murdered.” Kenny looked at the dashboard with that blank look on his face. Then he started at Frank with his lips not parted and his face somber, like he caught up with an old flame that he wants as a friend and not as a lover.

“When I got the call, I ripped the phone out of the wall. The children were asleep and the only sound that helped me through it was the sound of the inside water fountain that she bought from a yard sale sometime back. It ran, making the water flow over the ceramic-made rocks. That is the only sound in the room was the fountain when I knew that it is one of the last possessions that she had ever bought in her life…That is the beginning. That is the beginning of my madness.”

Frank backed up against his door, looking at him with some odd puzzlement.

“She was only driving through the back roads. She was going to get something from the grocery store. I couldn’t remember what it was? No, wait; I remember now. She was getting one of those lamp bars over the bathroom mirror. I told her that there is a recall on them and she looked it up on the computer with the model that is not on the warranty list. They didn’t have one on the internet so she went out to get one.” Kenny looked out the passenger side window, seeing the gas station that is deserted in the distance before moving his head back over the car with that sense of hatred and sadness growing in the pit of his stomach.

“I remembered that it was drizzling that night when I pulled up on the side of the road. It was dark when I put on my four-ways. The lines on the road is re-patched for as long as I remember when I got out of my car and I ran to her car when the sheriff stopped me with his hands outstretched.

“I was trying to see if she is okay? They were lying to me, of course. I wanted to know. That is when they pulled her out of the car and my life flooded out of me when I saw the blood coming from…God, I would want anything to take it back.” Kenny wiped the tear from his right eye when Frank dropped the empty wrapper in the bag between the both of them.

“Pain is a troubling and horrible feeling to overcome. It twists the heart for vengeance.” Frank looked over the hood of the parking before looking back at Kenny with his jacket making that crinkle sound with the leather shifting on his shoulders.

“I felt that pain once when my daughter was taken from me. I know.” Kenny looked at Frank, not saying anything when he breathed in and then breathed out before looking back onto the hood of the Cougar.

“How long ago?” Kenny asked him.

“It doesn’t matter. It was no innocence in that act when she was murdered.” Frank looked at the burger that is in Kenny’s hand when he asked if he wanted to get another burger for home.

“No, I’m good. I have enough food at home. The kids are living with their grandparents. I just feel like a failure that their mother is gone.” Kenny wiped the grime off of his fingers when sprinkles started hitting the hood of the Cougar.

The forecast tonight is going to be a chance of showers with the temperatures dropping into the low 60’s with partly cloud cover until morning. Frank didn’t think of it. The tires upon the car are freshly rimmed with the prickles still on the sidewalls of them so there are no worries.

Frank has a long night ahead of him.

“Okay, I have something to do before I turn it. I have to get somewhere before morning so I’m going to drop you where you are taking me.” Frank started the engine with the car turning over the crankshaft in the engine block, spurring the car to life with the oil keeping everything lubricated and the fuel making the sparks fire it upon pistons that are hammering out the song of the engine out through the firewall with the exhaust exhaling the dirty fumes in safe passage out the car’s back.

Frank backed the car out of the parking lot when the Cougar drove to the road leading to the end of the line for Kenny Monday as he sees the house where he lives that was full of life and full of voices that was within those bedrooms that are lifeless and empty now.

“Thank for the ride and the meal.” Kenny opened the door when Frank grabbed his shoulder.

“There are events not yet seen to believe. I just want you to know that.” Frank let his shoulder go when Kenny gave him a strange look. The wave of drunkenness is still settled in his veins when Kenny climbed out of his car and shut the door behind him.

Frank drove from the side on the road, not looking back as he drove into the night with the headlights beaming his only direction.

The direction is South, onto deer haven country.

***

Freddie Messavio sat in his office with the phone still clutched in his hand. The busy line signal is lit on the base of the phone when he went on hitting the scores on the night’s fights that are going on in Philly. The reason why he is in the Midwest is that he has got some heat on him about one guy who ran a newspaper stand that was found with a magazine shoved down his throat that blood came from his nose as his eyes bulged out before his death. Freddie swore up and down that he never met the guy in his life when they all knew what was going down.

They knew ‘cause the newspaper creep was in their game all along when his string came up with no money attached for the last time on the guy he was supposed to pay up. The newspaper’s string came up and someone was there collecting up when the newspaper said something negative with no money involved.

That is when it is done and it is chiseled in stone. Freddie knew when he kept his nimble hands busy with the situation that is on the other end of the phone.

“There is 1 and 30 on the fight between Mendanza and Rourke and you say that Rourke threw the fight – Really? That mick; who is spotting him? Maybe it’s the blackies from Chicago taking in the dough. Well I’m not paying a fucking thing if Rourke took a dive. If they come for it then I’ll flat their fucking head with ball peen and they’ll end up making bird houses for life. You tell them that when I take back my share. What do you mean I’m laying low, I’m on vacation; tell that to the family when they come knocking on your door.”

A knock came upon the apartment door when Freddie looked up. No one knocked on his door, no one when he grabbed the .380 Walther from the drawer to the left of him and made sure that there is a round in the chamber. He set it on the table and drew the newspaper over it.

“Okay, I gotta split. Tell him that yourself!” Freddie slammed the phone on the clicker.

“Who the fuck is there at this hour of the night?” Freddie cried at the door.

Nothing happened on the other side, not even a sound.

Freddie grabbed the gun underneath the newspaper, pulling the hammer down as he waddled to the door with the wood creaking under his feet. He didn’t see a shadow underneath the door when he got to the wood, seeing the impurities eye to eye when he asked again.

No one answered on the other side of the door.

“Okay. When I open this door, you’re going to be sorry.” Freddie barked when he pulled the bolt in the door and turned the knob, glaring to the musty hall outside his apartment when he shed the gun around the corner, seeing nothing on the right side and nothing on the left side.

Those damn kids. Ding-dong-ditching me, thrown out of their drug riddled parent’s house for a little spoonful. They might be buying the stuff that I used to crank out in the east.

Freddie lowered the gun when he signaled it as a false alarm, heading his way back into the apartment with the door closed behind him and the bolt shoved back into the trim. He waddled back to the desk that is besides the window in his living room when he sat down, feeling that his back is starting to give him the quits as he jostled the papers on the edge of the desk. There was nothing that happened for more than an hour before a knock came upon the door again.

“You gotta be shitting me.” Freddie spoke to himself when he didn’t grab the gun that is on the desk this time as he waddled to the door.

“If that is you Sadie, I’m not buying your cordless drill…” Freddie is facing a gun in his face.

He knew the person behind the gun and knew him well.

“Hey Frankie, how did you get my zip?” Freddie asked him like some sort of pleading for his life.

“Freddie, you were never the one to keep your head in the sand for too long.” Frankie un-cocked the .44 and holstered it in his leather jacket.

“How in the hell you been?” Frankie strolled into the room, looking around at the pile of filth that is flourished all over the apartment.

“Living the dream of being still above ground;” Frankie smiled, closing the door and locking it.

“I don’t need to ask why, right?” Frankie looked at the clutter of paper mess that is on the table when Frankie shook his head.

“No, it’s kind of a federal deal going on. I can’t get into it but look at you.” Frankie looked at him, seeing that is size is a little bigger than the last time that he has seen him.

“You’ve been working out?”

“Farm work for over a year. That is what happened to me when I woke up in some mamma bed that nourished me back to health.” Frankie smiled.

“Can I sit here?” He pointed at the couch.

“Sure, mind the spring. It’s a bitch.” Frankie sat in the lounge chair that is across the couch.

“I heard that you got whacked by a couple of ranks up on the street.” Frankie asked him, clasping his hands together like they are going to fly away.

“Close to it lost almost three liters of blood when my system went into shock. Mamma thought I was going to wake up dumb as well as the dumb you know me.”

“Did she tell the blue about it?”

“Strangely enough, no; the lady doesn’t like company too much. I didn’t understand it at first but when I heard that her whole entire family died in a house fire and no one came forward for the justice of the cold case that is going on for quite a spell. She lost her hope in people. I was the only one that she talked to before I rode out of there.” Frankie looked down on the floor with his eyes floating away.

“I feel sorry for her. I really do.”

Frankie looked up when Freddie tried to understand why he is here of all things. How did he find him? Freddie is laying low in this safe place beyond the custody of handcuffs. Frankie knew he wanted to ask him.

“Everything comes around Freddie. That is when I realize that they spot a dime on you and zeroed you out on the phone that I took from them after when they are in the country morgue were they found them. I read the address before I broke the burner that they were carrying. I’m sorry Freddie.” Frankie moved back in the couch when Freddie closed his eyes and then pursed his lips.

“Son of a bitch, this is going to get a little more interesting from here on out. Am I going to trust the people that put me here in the first place? Or am I really going off the grid? I have the cash flow to do it but I need people I trust on the way. I can’t go off the grid without a couple of minds that are crafty enough to do it.” Freddie tapped on the arm of his recliner when he looked at the pieces of paper that is on the desk behind him.

“I have some names that you are interested; impending a fee, of course.”

“Shoot.” Frankie moved to the edge of his seat.

“I know you do it through the mail in a disclosed place, scrambling it through the mailing system from a couple of post office boxes. I never meant to come here.”

“I know. It’s good to see you alive. I was praying for you when I heard about that, those motherless bastards.” Freddie got up from the chair with his back turned to Frankie, sauntering to the table to collect the papers that are scrawled on the notebook lines with hand writing that is so fine that it can be labeled as doctor’s script.

“If I had the muscle, I would have dipped the dagger into their blacked hearts. Hit men are nothing but monsters with weapons that have bad histories.”

“Yeah, that is saying from one monster to the next.”

A gun cocked in the room. Freddie turned.

“Whoa!” Freddie exasperated, moving his butt towards the edge of the table when the barrel of Frankie’s gun gleamed in the light.

“You were going to place me on a wild good chase. Weren’t you, you motherfucker.”

“What the fuck are you babbling about? Are you high!? You knew I had your back up to the point where they were trying to drill you. You know that!” Freddie roared when Frankie moved forward on the seat that is leaving him.

“You know I was driving down the road in the middle of the boonies when I got that call. What was that call about? I turned on the phone and heard the shots. What came after is something that haunts me like crystal piercing through my soul. You know what it is?” Frankie came forward with his teeth gritting together, feeling the rage behind his redden face.

“You…That’s was the clue. You when you stood there paying one of the swivels to put down your father and take the family crown. You on the phone some time before the other thing happened when you also paid a couple of gang bangers to do something that haunts me to kill – you know what that is?”

Frankie looked at him like he was just slapped across the face.

“Fuck you, Frankie. Put that in your broken puzzle box and snort it until that ringing goes away in your ears.”

“Yeah and there is a mob war in Philly right now and who got that ball rolling on that? Look me in the eye that tell that it’s a ghastly apparition or is that something I woke up and believed it to be true!?”

“How much are the families paying you?” Freddie moved around the desk, looking out the window.

“I’m the only one hear Freddie and I got you nailed to the wall. It took me a long time to convince that the scars in my back, the brutal murder of your father, and the rape of my estranged daughter is a little too similar. All of it happened in the same week.”

Frankie jumped up from the couch with the gun leveled, searing rage in his expression that centers a black hole in between his eyes.

You know what hurts me the most? I found out about her death after I got better almost a year later in that little farm. That is when I went out to Philly to bring the families that are willing to tug an ear in my favor. Some of them listened – some of them wanted to put an ax into my skull. The guns against each other still came out while I investigated. It took a long damn time, Freddie. A long damn time! Then I found out that you murdered that newspaper boy that you enlisted after it all came to pass.” Frankie pointed the .44 at the phone that is on the desk.

“I’m sure that your bookie is in Salamanca’s payroll. That is how he is going to get to you eventually.”

Freddie’s eyes blinked when he moved towards the desk that is in front of him.

“What are you saying? They don’t know where I am?” Freddie sparked that question in his brain when Frankie only replied with a sly smile.

“I got to you first before they’re going to show up.”

“Swell, Frankie.” Freddie shadowed the gun on the table, not looking down as Frankie at this angle didn’t see the gun.

“So what are you going to do? Kill me, then what. When that comes out I have the finest bunch of hit men that will clean all of this mess up. Everyone that is tied to me is going to be in a cage by the end of the second day. When people fuck with me then I fuck back with a razor on the front of it. I won’t die quietly!”

Freddie jumped on the gun when Frankie fired the gun, sending the bullet in a wild spiral into the wall when Freddie brought the .380 up; pulling the trigger as the hammer is pulled back, dropping onto the firing pin when it is full cock going into prime as the first bullet is fired.

The spent casing hit the floor when Frankie retreat back, jumping over the back of the couch when he fired the revolver again, smashing the window to the right of Freddie as Freddie dropped behind the desk.

“I’m not going to die quietly, Frankie!” Freddie raged behind the desk.

Frankie kept the gun close when he tried to get an angle on the bastard. He kept his breathing in check as he listened for any change in the room. Freddie is big enough to sound off his move on the wood below him.

“What is going to happen after you kill me? Think about it, you think you’re going to ride off into the sunset? They are going to kill you next. You are the last of the past, Frankie.” Freddie looked at the side of his desk for the shadows that could be on the wall. He looked at the other side of the desk for the same result. There is nothing.

“This is going to be some standoff! Someone has called the cops by now!”

That is when Frankie jumped up on his feet and fired through the desk with the third bullet spent on the chamber wheel. The bullet went through the wood as it hit Frankie’s kneecap when he screamed like bloody murder.

“You son of a bitch, you bastard!” Freddie looked at the mess that used to be his kneecap as the blood flew over like the Hoover Dam giving away.

“I’m going to smash your teeth out!” Freddie jumped on the countertop of the desk with half of his face showing.

Frankie still stood when he leveled the gun, firing it when Freddie dominate hand shattered with bone and blood as the gun that was in his hand discharged. It was a double bonus when the gun blew up in his face, taking half of Freddie’s head off when the shrapnel that flew what was left of the .380 went into Freddie’s stomach when he realized what happened is a moment too late.

“God dammit!” Freddie looked at the wound that is in his stomach when he placed his hand upon it. What came back is blood that is smeared all over his palm.

Frankie looked up, wincing in pain as he knew that Freddie is dead when Frankie almost dropped his piece onto the floor.

He made sure that the barrel is cool before holstering it in. The blood continued to flow from the wound when he straddled to the door, moaning in pain when he unlocked the door and left the scene of his vengeance behind.

There is no one else that Frankie met in this complex as he went down the steps, one stair at a time.

***

Kenny woke up hung over, trying to remember what happened the night before when he realized that he is sleeping in his eldest daughter’s bed. He got up, rubbing his bloodshot eyes as he crept to the side of the bed, noticing that one of her plush bears that she left behind is lying on the floor on its back.

Kenny felt bad when he got out of bed, hearing the pops in his lower back as he roused to the attention of the morning that is coming up over the east. The sun came up over the land, casting morning light through the slits of the blinds when he reeled away from the light that is burning through his corneas. He got up and headed towards the kitchen where the coffee pot is ready for him, trying to find a way to piece it back together for his family that is broken for so long that he cannot remember what year it is anymore.

He remembered the year before Heather and he had children; they were at the Stonehenge site on Easter Island. Kenny remembered reading this in history books that it was some type of astrological symbol to read the stars to perfect a calendar. Heather told him that in recent studies, Stonehenge was used to perform a funeral tradition to bring the souls from the earth realm to the other side of the unknown. The people believed that when someone dies – if they are not exercised – their souls are deemed to walk with the living for an eternity. So Stonehenge is built for the purpose of guiding the souls to rest.

Kenny remembered as the coffee percolated when he tried not to cry, hoping that her soul is at peace when he looked into the backyard through the window on a morning that is like any morning. The sun glinted on the glass piece that is near the corner edge of the shed with the shape of a mockingbird etched into it. The mockingbird etching glowed with the color of existence when Kenny looked at it for the longest time, trying to see, trying to believe if she is okay on the other side?

END


© Copyright 2017 Adam Steele. All rights reserved.

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