It is 04h30 the morning and the alarm clock goes off. It rings but the notification is in vain because he is already awake smoking his second cigarette. Moving promptly he pushes the snooze button and turn around to see if his wife and the baby is still asleep. They are still sleeping and his wife gives a soft groan holding his cushion tight.
Her sleeping face looks like an angel and it seemed strange how there was no sign of fatigue and sadness. Last night she cried hysterically when she found in the tog bag a blood stained lounge shirt of mine and asked what happened. I tried to console her and told her that the blood was not mine but that of an armed and fleeing suspect. I did not tell her that I shot him at close range and that the impact of the slug splattered his blood on my shirt.
How could I tell her that I shot a man to death even if it was in the name of justice? Unable to tell her the truth I lied in order to protect her. I told her with a straight face that I tended to the injured fleeing suspect that was hit by a car on the main road.” I cannot take this anymore” she said and now the baby also started up crying. I embraced both of them and sang to them softly and somehow I got the courage to tell them that everything will turn out fine. They both dozed off on the bed and I covered them with a blanket. I was sitting on the edge of the bed and my whole body shivered thinking of that incident.
How that robber looked at me and how he lifted his trigger arm at me. Staring Matador like at me and cocking his revolver to kill. All I can remember is this man jerking with bloodshot eyes on the supermarket floor. He was riddled with shots over his face and body but somehow he still had life in him to cry and beg for survival.
I turned around to see who shot him and my bodyguards looked at me sheepishly and guilty, they all had their guns in their holsters. I felt the hardness of my 357 Magnum Smith &Wesson and knew I shot him. Water or sweat was running over my face and I took my shirt to dry my face but it was black clotted blood I was cleaning. A screaming child ran over to the man that was now dead and he sobbed over the body.
The child calling the dead body his father suddenly grabbed the gun from his stiff fingers and took a shot at me.The body guard close to me was now ready and took out the child with rapid semi automatic fire killing him instantly. (Later investigations concluded that the boy worked with his father as an accomplice to the armed robbery of the bank)
The phone rang as agreed once and I took my tog bag with another fresh shirt and bullet proof vest I promised my concern wife I would wear when I entered my post area. In the road two heavily armed body guards waited for me at the car and Pantera was screaming out of the window. One of those marble carved faces said:
“Sir, are you ready to rock and roll “ and I said “Fuck yeah somebody got to clean Mammoths shit “
Leaving like a cool cat the death of his wife and child still hurt him after the grave retaliation last year. (The wife of the robber father and son took her revenge)
“Hey Mate did all this happen to you, are you telling me a long tale? “The guard said. Looking sadly and slightly pissed the vagrant said “ It was not me mate but my former boss that turned his gun on himself after he shot that bitch that annihilated his family.”
The guard looked at him incredulously and said “what a bloody story but why did you turn out to be a dirty bone beggar now buddy”
The vagrant looked at him sadly and said” Justice is a slow poison that taps the conscience to either become the killer, victim or both laddie and I chose to vanish from the judicial radar altogether ”
I was the guard listening to this crazy tale. I was convinced of his insanity when he told me that his former Security boss came to him as a ghost and told him that he is perpetually doomed to relive this incident.
After closer investigation it was discovered that the beggar was the bodyguard that shot the robber child on that day and he was also the driver that took the Boss to the mother of the robber family.
The vagrant was later admitted to a psychiatrist institution after running nakedly on the highway trying to get away from the ghost of his former employer. Recently I found out that he died by cutting his wrists off with a razorblade.