By Vernan Jagunap
“Am I forgiven?”
“You still have to bring me to the zoo,” demanded the seven-year-old Charlie as he felt the texture of his new ball.
“That will be on Saturday.”
“Dad, my birthday is today.”
“Charlie tomorrow is a working day. Just like today. Daddy needs to work, and you, you need to go to school okay.” He smiled.
“But that comes with a penalty. A family computer.”
“That is too much!”
“Dad, everybody in school has their own already.”
“But that is all.” Charlie nodded, but Charles noticed that he was still a little sad.
“What?”
“I wish mommy is here.”
Charles squatted, “Charlie, I miss mommy too, but there is nothing that we can do about it. She is no longer here, not with us. But I am still here and mommy is happy with that wherever she is.”
“Let’s go home Dad.”
Charlie bounced the ball as he started to go outside of the store ahead of his father. “Charlie, wait for me it is too dark outside.” Charlie went back to his father who was paying the clerk.
“Thank you daddy.” Charles held his son’s shoulder as Charlie continuously bounced the ball on the concrete pavement as they went home, “Someday, I’ll shot like Larry Bird, Daddy.”
“Not Magic?”
“No. Not Magic.”
“That will take a lot of practice. But don’t worry I’m always.”
“Charles!” a man in his thirties was sitting on the Mitsubishi’s hood.
“Hey Alex. How are you? Charlie, don’t go too far.”
“Fine. Greg’s here.” He looked at Greg and lighted a cigarette.
“Hi Greg.”
Greg nodded as Alex offered Charles a cigarette.
“No. My son does not like to see me smoke.”
Charlie looked at the two guys with curiosity then his ball bounced off and rolled into the bushes. He ran to chase it. “Charlie, be careful!” Charles warned him.
Charlie searched the ball behind the bushes with only the light that came from the store was guiding him. “It rolled in here.” He crawled behind the bushes, “Where it is? It should be in here. Ahh!” he saw his ball in a deep hole and it was impossible for him to reach it. “Daddy, I can not…”
BANG!
Charlie nervously got up. Everybody was running and he cannot see his father, “Daddee! Daddee!” he was shaking and crying as he stood while looking for his father. The street became empty in a minute and Charlie saw that his father was bloody and kneeling as he was holding his stomach. Alex was holding a wallet and a watch as he pulled something from Charles’s hand. “Daddee! Daddee!” Charlie ran to his father while Greg was pointing a .357 to Charles.
“Charlie run!”
“Don’t kill my daddee!” Charlie punched Greg, and Greg hit him on the face to throw him away but the kid ran to fight him back.
“Charlie…sstop,” his father cautioned him.
“Don’t kill my daddee!” he was weeping and punching Greg, so Greg held him by his shirt. “Don’t kill my daddee!”
“Please, I am not yet ready. I have a kid,” he was holding his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. “Please…” he coughed, “I’ll pay...”
Greg pointed his gun to Charlie.
“No!” Charles coughed as he tried to stop Greg. “I’ll pay…” he coughed, “just give me time.”
“Greg! That’s a kid man,” Alex cautioned Greg.
“Why do you always gets weak when it comes to kids!”
“Stop it! The kid has nothing to do with this! It’s the father! It’s the fucking father! Let’s do it man, and the police are in here in any minute.”
“Bullshit! I can kill! Anyone!” he pointed his gun to Alex.
“What are you doing man?”
“Don’t intervene with my fucking business! You understand!”
Alex glared at Greg as he felt his gun in his waist.
“What! Want to draw!” Greg looked Alex in the eye. “What!”
“Don’t kill my daddee,” Charlie bit Greg’s leg that made Greg to jump in pain and threw the kid away. Then Greg shot Charlie but Alex jumped at him to disturb his hand. The bullet hit an electrical post.
“Bullshit! Not the kid! Bullshit!” Alex held Charlie tight so that the kid cannot move even though he was desperately fighting. He heard the siren, “Finish the fucking father!” he drew his gun and pointed it to Greg, “ Let’s get out of here, son of a bitch!”
Greg looked at Alex’s eyes and then to Charles.
“I’ll pay,” Charles cried.
“Sorry kid,” Greg pointed his .357 on Charles, “your daddy owe us something.”
“I’ll pay,” Charles coughed, “I’ll pay. I’ll pay.”
“I believe that that is already too late,” and he squeezed the trigger.
That was fifteen years ago, but Charlie can still see everything very clearly. It happened right there, near “fantasy,” he silently read what is visible as “ant”.
“Hi,” a girl in her teens greets him, “are you looking for some fun?”
“Fun?” The girl wears a skimpy dress and a high heel.
“I can give you anything,” she smiles.
“No. Actually I’m just lost. I’m looking for the house of a friend, Alex. Do you know him? I’m already fifteen minutes late.”
“Come on. Alex? That grump? He can wait.” She tries to hold on to Charlie’s hand but Charlie avoids her. “It is just six thirty. Come on. You’re young. I’m young. Let’s have some fun.”
“Next time,”
“Come on. Look at me,” she gives a sexy pose.
“Next time,” he smiles “Promise, I’ll try to come back.” Charlie starts to walk.
“Alex’s house is the one with a crucifix. Just turn left on the first intersection.”
Charlie turns back, “Thank you.”
“My name’s Liza, in case you need some fun,” she shouted as Charlie disappears on the dimly lighted intersection.
There is a big improvement on Alex’s house, Charlie notice. It is now a two story concrete building with a wide collection of wild flowers, an intercom, and a decorated fence that includes a huge crucifix. He rings the doorbell and a man’s voice came out of the speaker. “Who are you?”
“Rob. Remember? I called. I’m sorry I’m late but I have a hard…”
The gate opens, “Come on in,” and it immediately closes after he steps inside of the lawn. He looks around and a man in his early twenties opens the door of the house. “Come here.” he inspects Charlie then he let Charlie in. Charlie steps inside and the man slam shut the door. There are two more persons inside, one is in his late twenties and the other is already having a gray mustache, maybe late fifties.
“You’re Alex?” he asks the guy in his late twenties.
“No. He is,” he points the guy with a gray mustache.
“Did you bring the money?” asks Alex.
Charlie gives him his knapsack and Alex examines it, then he smiles and closes the backpack without counting the money. “Only the color of the mustache change,” Charlie thought.
“Follow me.”
Alex brings him into a small arsenal. “So, what do you need?”
Charlie scans the place, “I need to kill someone?” The two younger guys are at the door, carefully watching his every move. Both of them have guns in their waist, probably pistols, Charlie notice.
“Who?”
“None of your business.” He look at the two guards, “They’re too heavy to move faster than me,” he thought.
“Okay,” he shrugs his shoulder.
“.45 and an ingram plus ammo,” Charlie said. “That would be just enough,” he thought.
“No problem.” Alex scans the arsenal. Then he picks the ingram and the caliber .45. He lays it on the table and looks at Charlie.
“I’d like to test it.”
Alex inserts a loaded magazine on the guns. “Come here.” He brings Charlie in front of a small firing window. “You have twenty rounds. Ten rounds each.” Charlie fires the pistol once then he picks the ingram and fire it also once, then he holds the pistol with another hand and faces Alex with the barrel loosely facing Alex.
“You have twenty rounds. Go on.”
“No problem,” Charlie squeezes the trigger of the ingram and Alex falls down, his blood is flowing from his stomach and chest. The two guards immediately draw their pistols but Charlie dives on the floor as he shoots the two guards with both guns. The younger guard is hit in the head, and the older guard, near the right shoulder, which forces him to drop his pistol. Charlie gets up as the guard crawls to reach his pistol. Charlie goes directly on top of him as he continues to crawl for his pistol.
Charlie aims at his head. “No, please,” the guard is shaking his head. “No!” Charlie fires the .45 to his head.
Charlie goes back to Alex and Alex can only stare at him with confusion as he catches his breath. Charlie begins to cry, “My name is Charlie Gwinn Jr. Do you remember that name? You killed my father!” Charlie could almost break his teeth as he kneels down and punches Alex’s face. He can barely see Alex because of his tears.
After several minutes, he takes a rest and struggles to get up. “Good!” he smiles as he stares at Alex. Alex’s face is wet with his own blood, his nose is no longer in its proper shape, his eyes are bulging, his mouth is cut, his teeth are no longer complete and his neck is twisted.
“There is still one left.” Charlie sees that blood is everywhere and he smiles.
He inverses his jacket, get the bag that he hide in his knapsack, then, he get some guns, ammunitions, and his money. He looks at Alex and he sees the ring that Alex took from his father, he takes it. Then he searches for the car key and departs from the place using Alex’s Chrysler Jeep.
Charlie arrives at his apartment thirty minutes later. He immediately, cleans the ring and places it beside his priceless collection that includes his triathlon awards, martial arts awards and military academy diploma. Then he goes to the bathroom and submerges himself in the hot tub.
“That was really beautiful,” Charlie thought as he stares blankly on the white ceiling. “Everything was in red, really beautiful red hair, red nose, teeth, mouth, wall, carpet, beautiful red spots on carpet. Ahhh! Beautiful! Beauti…ful.” Charlie keeps wondering.
“You really did it.”
Charlie looks towards the bathroom’s door and sees his best friend John.
“He bought it fifteen years ago,” Charlie says softly, “and I think, I still owe him for the delay.”
“Bullshit!” he stares at Charlie. “Who are you? The Charlie that I know is logical,” he is uneasy then he cries, “What happened to you Charlie?”
“I don’t…know,” he is very calm. “Sometimes…I thought that your friend Charlie already died before you met someone whom you thought was he. That was fifteen years ago.” His tears start to fall. “Yes, that was fifteen years ago when a couple of guys murdered his father. Two shots in the head.” He stares blankly back on the ceiling, “Two shots in the head, for the father of a seven-year-old boy. Can you understand that? Two fuckin’! Shots! Two fuckin’…shots…and the boy…was…dead.”
“You can not eliminate criminals by becoming one, Charlie.”
“And if I did not do it then who will! Fifteen years and those fuckin’ criminals have not breath an air of prison. I bet every police are even bowing at them every time they meet them. Like they are their fuckin’ gods!”
“And how will you end it? How?”
Charlie is held silent for a moment, “I will figure that out, later. But right now, what I know is, there is still one left.”
John becomes too uneasy but tries to hide his tears, “Sometimes people enters into a room and forgot to look for any exits. And later, when it is already too necessary to get out, they are just shocked to learn that there is no way out. I hope you are not one of them, Charlie.”
“We were brought in here, John. Here, in this world. We are in this world. We were not given a choice about it. And this world that we are living in, is a room with no exits. Even death cannot find us any exit. For everything that we do in here stays in here, forever. And what we do is what we are. Me, I am just one of those who seek justice, not only for me but also for everybody. I am a hunter of the merciless wild animals, John. That is going to be my legacy. For I believe that, abandoning to seek justice is the worst form of advocating injustice. This world already has a load of injustice, John. If we allow too much of it, this world is going to explode in tears.”
John is uneasy, “Good luck Charlie.” John leaves to his car.
“Bullshit!” Charlie gets off the tub when he hears that John’s car leaves then he goes to his room, he gets dressed, takes his guns ready and walks out of his apartment.
“Two guards at the front, one at the back and two dogs, that is all. Nothing had change,” thought Charlie. He surveys the area once again with his night vision goggles. The three guards have joint together near the front and play cards but they let loose the dogs.
He can see that Greg is in a room of the second floor. He is holding a book, looks like he is reading while sitting on a bed. Greg fixes the bed, stands up, closes the curtains and put off the light of the room. Then, he goes to the adjacent room, put on his robe, sits down at the front of a study table and read a book. He is alone, and the dogs are sitting near the guards. Charlie creeps to the back door.
There were two guys inside, they are watching TV, but their guns are in the center table in front of them. One of them stands up, “I need to pee.” He stops as he sees that the backdoor is half open. “Tony. Did I tell you to lock the backdoor?”
“I did.”
“Bullshit! Lock the fuckin’ door!”
“I did loc…” he stands up and is shock to see that the door is partly open. He readies his gun, and signals to his pal to be ready. Then, he carefully inspects the lock, pushes the door, but the door opens back. He wonders and inspects it again, “It is broken,” he calmly speaks to his friend and put his gun to his waist. “I’ll fix it tomorrow. No problem, Bud. Go pee now before you’ll collect the stones and blame it to me.” He goes back to the TV.
Bud put back his gun in the center table and goes to the toilet through a dimly lighted hallway. He opens the door, switches the light, goes inside and absent-mindedly closes the door. Then, he kneels down, holding his bloody stomach while spitting his blood. Charlie pulls the knife and thrust it back, and Bud falls down to the tiles. Charlie pulls the knife again and gives him another blow to secure that he is completely dead then he goes out.
Tony stands up, “Hey Bud. Hurry up. It is Heather Graham. She is wearing a bikini.” He goes to the toilet, “Bud! It’s Heather Graham. You are going to miss her. Come on, hurry up,” he knocks at the door and the door opens. His breathing stops, eyes widen as he becomes immobile for second, “Bbbud,” he is shaking. Charlie jumps at Tony from outside of the toilet then thrust his knife to Tony’s chest before Tony can make a single move. Tony sits loosely on the toilet bowl, eyes wide open, but unmoving. Charlie pulls the knife and gives Tony another thrust, and then he secures the lock of the toilet and creeps his way to the second floor.
Charlie readies his knife as he knocks at the door. “Who is that?” ask Greg from inside. Charlie knocks again. “I thought you were already asleep.” Greg opens the door and Charlie immediately pushes Greg inside then thrust his knife on Greg’s chest while preventing Greg from speaking. Greg punches Charlie and Charlie is thrown to a table causing some things to be thrown out. Charlie kicks Greg to the wall and jumps at Greg to pierce a second knife at Greg’s chest. Greg crumples to the floor, staring at Charlie. His blood flows from his mouth and his body and he cannot speak.
Charlie begins to cry as he takes out his ingram and pointed it to Greg. “Do you remember me!” Charlie is panting, “Charlie Gwinn Jr!” There is somebody calling and knocking at the door, but Charlie ignores it and steps on the knife to nail it deeper on Greg’s chest. Greg twisted in pain and Charlie smiles as he points his ingram to Greg.
“Perhaps, you already have an idea how it feels. Or do you!” Greg is looking at Charlie like he is begging Charlie to shot him. “Do you!” Charlie squeezes the trigger, emptying the cartridge and Greg’s brain shatters on the floor. Charlie takes the .45 from his waist as the door opens.
A child runs to Greg. “Daddee! Daddee!” the child weeps as he hugs Greg.
Charlie drops down the gun and he is thrown to the wall. He is shaking, “No, not me.” He is staring at the child. The gun is near the child’s feet. He is probably seven years old. Charlie is weeping and shaking, and he drops down to his knees, “Not me. No! No! Noo!” he is panting. “Ohh, God. Jesus. Noo.” There is a commotion going up fast, and the child slowly takes the gun as Charlie stares at him. Charlie stands up. “Jesus, please forgive me,” he murmurs as his tears run on his face. The footsteps are getting nearer and the kid’s hand shakes badly as he points the gun to Charlie while crying. Charlie faces straightforward as the door opens, and a big burst of bullets knocks him face down to the floor.
THE END
NOTE: Kindly send honest comments to vjagunap@yahoo.com
About the Author: Vernan Jagunap, an admirer of fine arts and literature since childhod had been mastering the art of writing fictions since year 2000. He is living in Leganes, Iloilo, Philippines where he is trying to write his first novel.
Source: www.isnare.com
