places: batter up

I parked about a block away from Clayton's place. 

I took some packaging twine and made a sling for the sawed-off.  I got out of the car and strapped it on.  I made sure it was concealed beneath the trench coat.  I made enough leeway so I wasn't restricted...just in case I had to draw down.  It was in my favor that Clayton lived in a relatively secluded spot.  All I need to do is get in there quiet like.

I smothered my last fag and then  proceeded down the street on foot.  I soon exited the road and moved through the woods until I got to the edge of his estate.

I found a place to watch, to see if he had anyone walking around his grounds.  Usually it was the Russian.  If no one was watching the grounds, I had convinced myself to go on inside and visit Clayton at gunpoint.

Night wasn't going to last forever, but I decided to just be patient.

Seemed like old times.

Crouching in the darkness, my mind went back.  I was a shooter.  I joined many reconnaissance patrols.  We'd slip our ways pass the lines to capture a German from which to educe information. There were only a couple of times that we came back empty handed.  Most of the time though, we'd complete our shopping list.  The guys I went in with...had done it so much that it was like a choreographed dance. Talk about clockwork.  They knew where to look and how to move.  All I had to do was stay back and keep the stage safe.

I rarely had to fire a shot.  The last thing you wanted to do was have to open fire. I killed only when things got FUBAR.  Things could get scary real fast.  It's hard telling who's-who's in the dark.  The idea is to get in, grab some poor unsuspecting Hymie, and get out quick.  To get an officer was to hit the jackpot.

I have to be quiet and quick.

I moved around the edge, keeping myself hidden in the woods.  There wasn't much going on.  I kept edging my way around the house.

So far so good.

The woods ended on the other side of the house. I had full view, from the side, of the front porch.  No one was was there.

Do I go in?

There was a back door if it comes to that. Back door would be the best bet.

I could hear a fan in the window.  I heard crickets.  I stayed in the shadow of the woods straining all my senses.  Something was amiss.  Someone was out there.  I stayed in the darkness and watched.

I listened.

It couldn't be an animal.

Not unless animals around here wear leather shoes.

I waited motionless.

I noticed that my hands felt clammy and cold. I couldn't afford feeling fear.  You have to deal with it by forcing it back down with a broomstick. FOCUS!  Focus on the job.  I wiped my hands off my coat and reached down for the shot gun.

I heard something.

It was a cough.

It wasn't from the direction of the house, but rather from the road - from the direction that I came. I couldn't see anyone, but heard footsteps.

He's just down the road, walking this way.  My guess is that it was the Russian - no way to tell.

I unloosed the string from the shotgun.  My heart began to race.  It was as if I could audibly hear my heart thumping from my throat and out my ears.  I started taking slow controlled breaths.

Then I saw a light.  He lit something, a cigar, then tossed down the match. He wasn't in a hurry. 

"I got you." I whispered to myself.

I saw the red glow and saw the outline of his head and shoulders.  He stood there for a long time.

I stayed low and quiet.

Whatever happens next, I am going to have to move quiet and fast.  I felt violent.  I felt the kind of violence that could kill.  It's not anger.  What I felt was vicious and methodic.  It's what takes over when fear is given no foothold.

I watched until I was tired of watching. Here in the shadow of darkness, I was quickly losing my patience.


I was ready to get this over with.

At that moment, the figure started moving.  He moved at a steady pace - back toward the house.  I was going to have to cut him off before he gets to the steps.  I need to take him out, hopefully before he sees me.

Fortunately he wasn't looking my way.

He seemed to be in his own contented world of thought.  It was a nice night for some fresh air.  It was a nice night for a little stroll.  It wasn't going to be a nice night for what I had in store for him.

I jumped out of the brush and ran straight at him. I kept my eyes on him during the entire approach.

He didn't look. I was expecting him to.  I felt like I was making so much racket.  I could hear my breathing, the leaves beneath my feet. It seemed to take forever - all he had to do was look this way.  He would have had plenty of time to fire an entire clip in my direction.  I felt vulnerable in the moonlight.  I felt vulnerable charging across the front yard.

I grabbed the barrel of the gun and ran.

Yet more leaves crunched beneath my feet, but he just didn't look my way until it was too late.

He looked like a Bugs Bunny cartoon.  He wasn't expecting it.  I saw the momentary realization come across every feature of his face in that split second.  His eyes widened. His cigar dropped from his open mouth. He froze. He just stood there as I cocked back the stock like a Louisville Slugger and cracked it upside his head.

Of course he fell.

He didn't make a noise.  He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

No way was he getting up from that.

I grabbed his arms and drug him from the light of the yard.  I went through his pockets and pulled out a .45 and a set of keys.  I smiled.  It's obvious who he worked for.  I drug him down the road a little ways and then went back to the driveway to see which car the key fit.  There were two parked, and it fit the second.

I rolled it down the driveway and onto the road.  I cranked it as I kept my eyes on the front windows.

No one.

I put it in gear and pulled up to guy I clobbered.  I hoisted him in the trunk.  I drove down the road to where I left the other car.

I opened the trunk again and tied the unconscious man with the twine.  I gagged him with one of his socks and secured it to his mouth with more twine.  He wasn't going anywhere.


I drove my old ride into the woods. I drove it into brush and like an idiot, hadn't figured it would be hard climbing out.  I had to break the rear window in order to climb out.

What an idiot.  It took me about fifteen minutes to get back to the road.  Stumbling through the dark without a flashlight.  Apparently I quit thinking after knocking that guy out.

There was the road.  I looked both ways.  No one coming East or West.  No sounds.  Nobody.

The moon seemed bigger - as if it was God's spotlight.

I cocked the sawed-off and made a dash across the street.

I pulled off recklessly and swerved down the road. My hands were sweating again.  My heart was beating like a drum.  Again I felt it pound again up my throat and into my head.

I rolled down the window to catch the breeze - to cool me down.

Home run.