I woke up as the alarm buzzed six o'clock. Nightmare after nightmare
had consumedmy restless night, leaving my body completely drenched in
sweat as I awoke. I attempted to make an agenda for myself as I ran
myself through the shower and quickly dressed myself casually
afterwards. I nearly ran out the door, not alerting Jennifer to my
scheme for the day.
I started the car and quickly backed out of thegarage. The engine
roared and the tires squealed as I sped off towards town.
I found the place I had been looking for.
I parked the Mercedes onthe street next to a store named Guns 'n More
and hurriedly walked in. There was one, large man behind a large
counter. He wore a ripped sleeve flannel t-shirt and faded jeans. I
ran up to him in anxiety.
"Can I help you?" he asked while cleaning a half-assembled weapon.
"I need to buy a personal protection weapon."
"Pistol?"
"Probably."
"Nine millimeter?"
"Honestly I don't know that much about guns. I just want something
that I can carry legally that is reliable and easy to get ammunition
for." He smiled at my last sentence as if he had just found the
perfect customer.
"Here is a Beretta 92 FS. Small, light, compact, powerful, and shoots
nine-mil cartridges. Very good gun and easy to getammunition for."
"I'll take it," I replied without hesitation.
"Do you want a spare magazine too?"
"Sure."
"Ammo right away?"
"Yes."
I paid him the appropriate amount for the weapon and he even showed me
the basics of holding, shooting, maintaining, and reloading the gun. I
later bought a holster and I stored the gun in it as I walked out of
the small corner store.
I was now prepared to meet the man in the hooded sweatshirt.
I entered the alley, within seconds of the time I had been scheduled.
The familiar face, well, familiar hood was standing there, sucking on
a cigarette. Before I was even done walking towards him he was already
spouting questions at me.
"Do you have the quarter-million?"
"No."
He spat the half-used cigarette onto the concrete. "And why not?"
"I think you know why not."
He laughed at that, realizing that I had not only lost immense amounts
of money, but now also recognizing that I was either to be enslaved to
"Uncle Jack" or my family and I were going to die.
"I'm sorry to hear that," his voice faded, suddenly serious.
He pulled a hunting knifefrom what seemed like nowhere and slowly
started to circle me, like ashark surrounding his prey. He came closer
withevery revolution, and finally he lunged at me.
A gun went off.
He was taken aback and blown to the ground. Theknife hit the grey
concrete a second later and clanged on the rock, almost cutting off a
finger along the way. I looked down, not realizing what I had just
done as I watched the smoke rise from the muzzle of the Beretta.
Horrified, I ran back to the Mercedes. I could hardly put the key in
the ignition because of my hands shaking so badly.
I sped home. I only had a little time.
"Get the kids, we're going."
Jennifer was suddenly alarmed as I came crashing through the kitchen
door. Disgust andfear fought for control ofher face, and she didn't
know whether to believeme or not.
"What's going on, Paul?" She grabbed my arm as I walked by her to pack
a few pairs of clothes in a backpack with some canned food. She
repeated her question.
"Jen, just trust me please."
"And why should I?" My world almost stopped."You have given me no
reason to trust you for almost two years."
I fought back the tears oftruth that I just started torecognize. "Jen,
I'm sorry.I'll explain on the way. But if you ever trusted me in your
life, trust me now."
Debate crossed her face."Please Jen."
"I'll get the girls," she finally decided.
Ten minutes later we were out of the house and back in the Mercedes.
An hour later we came back and the house was in flames. The kids were
crying and screaming the entire time. They had no idea and could not
understand the story thattook me an hour to tell Jennifer. We stopped
at acar dealership and sold the car for cash, something that we would
need very soon.
And here we were, back
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