The guy across from me looked up and narrowed his eyes a little, but I ignored him.
The bus stopped again, and though I hoped the couple might get off at this stop, they didn’t. Instead, a guy in a camouflage-colored coat stepped on, and I felt myself tense. It wasn’t desert camo, at least, but for some reason it still set my heart beating faster. I looked away quickly and crossed my arms in front of myself. As I closed my eyes and gripped my biceps with my fingers, I could feel Bridgett’s phantom fingers run down the side of my face, cooling my heated skin when I was sick.
“Stop it.”
But it didn’t stop.
The rumbling of the seat below me felt like the aftershocks of bombs going off around me. The sound of the
bus against the street as it took off again was transformed to tank movements on grimy sand. The bus lurched to a stop, and I felt myself bump into the woman next to me on the bench seat. Again, my muscles tensed, and the butt end of my weapon dug into my back. I considered pulling it out of my waistband.
Of course, everyone would have been able to see it then – not such a great move.
Was it?
I closed my eyes again, and various visions of high school shootings and gunmen from rooftops invaded my head. Despite the carnage of the scenes played for everyone’s viewing in the media, my mind found peace with the idea. There was always the same ending to the instigator of that kind of violence.
End being the focus.
“Tired.”
Tired of playing this role, tired of just moving through the city like I was some kind of god or demon here to bring Rinaldo Moretti’s version of justice to those who crossed my path. None of it even mattered to me – all I got out of it was a wad of cash and a twisted idea of loyalty to someone who told me I did a good job and occasionally called me “son.”
When I opened my eyes, the Muslim woman was looking at me. My already tense body coiled, and my hand slipped down to the end of the seat – closer to my weapon. I had seven rounds loaded and two more clips on me. My mind counted how many people I could take out with what I had. I could easily build a barrier of bodies around myself.
How would that look to the woman who was eyeing me? Would she try to come at me? Would she throw herself in front of her husband or he in front of her?
It wouldn’t make any difference. They would both die. So would the guy wearing that stupid camo coat and the plethora of oblivious teens with their earbuds shoved into their ears and their electronic devices shoved in their faces. They had no idea what was going on around them, and it was about time for someone to wake them all up.
I couldn’t save those in my unit – couldn’t protect them. There was nothing I could do now – no one to save, no one to protect. The deaths would be meaningless and senseless – every last one of them.
All deaths were.
My fingers reached behind my back and touched the warm handle of my Beretta. It felt good. I maneuvered the weapon around to my front, though still underneath my jacket.
My mind continued to swim around me, but there wasn’t any war going on inside. Even when I tried to come up with shit I might regret not knowing or not doing, I couldn’t come up with much. I wished I had a pizza for lunch instead of the damn hotdog I’d grabbed from a cart. I wished I’d seen that new GI Joe movie that was supposed to come out soon – the previews looked good, and I had always liked GI Joe.
My head moved up slowly, and I opened my eyes.
There really wasn’t any reason to delay.
“It’s decided.”
This was how it was going to end.
I looked around from right to left, starting with the Muslim couple. My eyes traversed the teens, the camo-coated guy, a woman with a Macy’s shopping bag, and the guy holding his little girl.
The little girl’s eyes left her father and focused on me. Our gazes locked on each other, and the fuzz of the pink hat blew around in the wind from the bus doors as they opened and closed at the next stop. My heart beat louder in my chest, and I could feel the blood flowing rapidly through my veins. I didn’t know how long she and I just looked at each other. I only knew that she would be collateral damage in my half-assed plan.
The doors of the bus opened, and the fuzzy hat blew around in the cool breeze again. I shoved off the seat, pushed my gun into the front waistband of my pants, and got the fuck off the bus.
I was far past my own stop – up north on Michigan Avenue near the John Hancock Observatory. I crossed the street but didn’t bother to get on another bus – it seemed risky. My feet carried me past the Water Works and the Columbia sportswear store. I went by Tiffany’s and Co and tried not to think of my date with Bridgett.
The smell of tomato sauce and cheese dragged me into a nearby pizzeria, where I ordered a cheese stuffed pizza with extra sauce, ate half of it, and then leaned back and wondered if my stomach was going to explode.
I walked back home and dropped down to the floor as Odin came up to me and whined. He sniffed at my hands, and I swear he knew what I had done.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I don’t even know why I did it.”