“Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten about them”- George Elliott
People, believe it or not, know exactly when they will die.
Hidden deep in their subconscious, the moment awaits them. The second they come to realization, all senses of time become irrelevant. Every second slows down. Feelings of shock, anxiety, hopelessness, and mercy all swim upstream from the depth of their souls to the fire in their hearts. The butterflies in their stomach escape from their cocoons and create storms of jolting energy in their cores. Adrenaline rushes through them, almost as if they achieved mastery of a skill, became victorious, or took their first breath on the summit of Mount Everest. However, their thrills are short lived. It is as if God grants them a single second of what heaven feels like. Of what beauty and serenity awaits them. Then their bones collapse, their muscles convulse, their nerves go haywire, and their souls scream. Returning back into their mothers’ wombs, they take their last breath as humans and travel to unimaginable heights, uncovering the mysteries beyond life and the purpose of humankind.

With her hands up in the sky and body shaking violently, the lady’s back slammed into the wall. I cocked the shotgun’s handle and shouted. Her dazzling jewels and sparkling tears reflected off the meager light from the lamp post while her eyes shone with utter fear. I couldn’t see her face but as I stepped closer, her rapidly elevating breathes puffed steam into the air.

“Drop your bags, remove your jewelry, and take off the ring! Do it now. Before you get to see your DEAD mother tonight!” I threatened.

I felt the sharpness of my eyes and my voice pierce through her skin like a spear and into her heart. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her thumb slightly tilt. Her left knee was bent at an awkward angle towards her purse. In a flash, the woman played a game against fate. She ripped a Domesticated Compact Taser from her Gucci purse. I wasn’t here to play games.

Three pieces of iron crafted to penetrate. It was all it took to end a life. This time, I didn’t see a single flickering star in the ominous dark depth of her eyes. I called my buddy waiting in the van three blocks away. I collected her lucrative belongings and tossed her corpse into a translucent garbage bag.
I loaded the items in the trunk and rode away with my partner.

“Hey man, do me a favor, find the nearest garbage disposal,” I said.
¬¬
“Take a left just up there. Its ahh the Interstate- I think 47,” I told my partner.

The bullets were expelled from the strongest and perhaps most revolutionary mechanism man has ever created. Travelling at over seven hundred kilometers per hour, it is the fastest train for men to arrive at their final destination of ultimatum and unexpected revelation. Unknowingly, the great dam is weakened. They pull all water from the great ocean in the body outwards, spilling innocently onto the earth.

The police were informed of the incident and acted fast. Within minutes of a witness’s report of the crime, eyes were all over the city. When the sun came up, we were vulnerable of all dangers, threats and consequences. Our faces and our vehicle would become landmarks. Open for visitors from the department of justice. So we left the city.

“I think we are far enough,” I suggested.

We rolled down the windows to calm the burning fire and soaking rain in the van.

“ ’Tis a close one right ‘here. Find a ghetto dump and ‘eave the boddy man,” My partner said, “say, Jerry, didn’t yo grow up in this town when yo were still a quackety duck?”

“Yeah you’re right. After my dad was convicted of manslaughter in ’92, I moved here from San Andreas County to live with my uncle. Didn’t get along with him. Didn’t really accomplish anything great for the years that went by. This town used to be the place that the vagabonds gather for the lousy lunches of canned meat and potatoes that the church offers every Sunday afternoon. And of course,” I paused and tried to imitate my partner, “that bank buggy that goes by once ‘very eight months that the drunken men soaked in whiskey and day-old moonshine try to steal. Boy, you’d think that the loop-up buggies carried cash but good lord there was more firepower in that car than the hoe county police would evar scavenge,” I replied.

“Any id’ee wha-happen ‘ft u left town?”

“Since you asked I’ll tell you. The county police broke apart, fights were everywhere. Old men who never locked their doors were looted every night. It was utter chaos I tell you. Now it’s just a big ditch in the middle of nowhere. In the three years I went to university for philosophy and literary arts, I only came back once. I got involved in the cocaine business that time. And that is why I’m running with you,” I said.

“And I thought I was da crazyeee Jerry,” My partner replied.

We laughed as we cruised down the street.
With my heart in my throat, I lifted my rifle and pushed it against my shoulder, positioning the scope upon my right eye. As silently as possible, I shifted in the bush. I also slowly shifted the reticle to pinpoint the deer’s neck. The beige spots on its brown fur were targets, waiting for bullets to strike. I curled my finger around the trigger, and took a deep, deep breath. My eyes closed, and I took a shot. Incredible emotions of regret and pity immediately hit me like a brick wall. A rambunctious struggle occurred. One between life and death, but ultimately, the deer was no opponent for the inevitable truth. The green leaves around the deer were covered with a red coat. I bolted towards the animal. I could see the tears in my eyes reflected in the colorless mirror that used to be the deer’s right eye. They were the same tears I saw in the eyes of my mother, my father, my brother, and my sister. I shook the animal violently over and over again. Uselessly, I cried and cried. They were same tears I cried when I shook my family for dear life. I brought the deer to my shoulders and walked toward my truck. I threw the animal in the trunk and closed its eyelids. The same way I closed my mother’s eyelids. I started up the car and drove away. After a day of hunting, my fingers shook as they struggled to grasp the steering wheel. I allowed the weight on my feet to accelerate the vehicle. On the dirt road, the violent tremble of the carcass echoed the heavy beats in my heart. Pulling into the driveway, I shut off the engine, jumped off, grabbed the deer and ran in the house.
My name is Tod Kugel. Tomorrow, I will turn sixty-five. Forty-two years since the beginning of the war. Thirty eight years since the accident.

At age twenty three, my father encouraged me to join the army. I guess he saw the energy and interest in my eyes every time I saw army propaganda on the walls. So I did. Within three months, I was accepted to the American Military Training Base in Chicago. Upon arrival, excitement from my patriotism prepared me well. However, without an outstanding physique or being all knowing in battle tactics, I was classified into the ranking of the lowest back-up soldiers. It wasn’t until a hot day during summer when sergeant Banks recognized my adept skills in sniping. In his very words, my exceptional skills in stealth would greatly benefit the situation on the battlefield. I was instantly promoted. My confidence rose faster than the temperature in the Colorado deserts where I was sent to be trained. After eight months, I became an expert. I was taking out enemy targets left and right. Without blinking once, I could take out five moving targets at a one hundred yard range.

I didn’t fire a single shot in my sixteen months of military service. Every day, I waited. I waited for people, I waited for vehicles, and I waited for anything to happen. Simply, nothing came. My fingers flexed and twisted around the trigger. My eyes twitched and focused on the distant grounds. It was utterly empty, so was my heart. They sent me to a region where the enemy had retreated long ago.

On the final day I spent in Afghanistan after the war ended, I forgot what the enemy looked like and how much bullets hurt.

Three days after my return home, it was Thanksgiving. My wife fixed up all the ordeals of the celebration and invited my parents and relatives. We ate, we sang, we prayed, we danced. Everybody said something on the lines of congratulations to me. For the first time in years, my heart was like a ripe grape, plump and sweet. At night, when all the relatives and cousins went back to their homes, my parents stayed over for the night. I tucked Johnny into bed and wished my parents goodnight. But I rolled and twisted in my bed. Eventually, I fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until the next morning.

The next morning, I awoke with a fresh start. I felt the sunlight and love from my family dance and twirl on my body. I looked beside me and saw my wife. I looked at my arms and saw the shotgun in my grasp. I walked to the next door and saw my parents and my sisters. In the next room, my son wasn’t in his bed. While leaving his room, I saw a monster in the mirror. Stained head to toe in blood and shame, I was the only one alive in the house. What happened to me? Is this a dream?

Today is the day I visit my family. The day that I learn from my mistakes. The day that marks the beginning of my end. The beginning of my redemption. The beginning of another life.

I climb out of my bed on the Sunday morning. As the sun shines through the blinds, it created wondrous silhouettes on the duvet where my wife took her last breathes. It is as if twenty years passed as I step out of my well-lit bedroom into the melancholic darkness of the hallway. The wooden floor squeaks under my weight as I made my way down the hall. In front of me, my son looks at me. His glorious smiles and youthful naiveté radiates an aura of golden light all around him. As I blink he vanishes from sight, starting a tempest in my heart. I throw my left foot forward and somehow, beyond my control, I become instantaneously upon my doorstep. As I look back to my house, I become further and further away. Suddenly, I become sited in my car. Speeding away from my reminiscence that looked as merely a star in the entirety of the unending galaxy. I glance at my house and took a deep breath. On my right, riding shotgun, is my stairway to love, to family and to happiness.









I smile at my 12 gauge shotgun.

As Tod Kugel made his way down the road, he spotted two men with ragged clothes and looks of frustration waving eagerly towards his car. He stomped on the brake.

“What do you hitchhikers want?” He screamed out the window.

“Oh praise the lord! You couldn’t have come at a better time. Sir, our car just broke down just over here. Can you give us a ride?” Jerry said in reply.

“Goodness of lord’s mercy! You just couldn’t have bother me any other time? Ahh. Fine. Move your bottoms. Get in. Be gentle now. The four-door has been running since ’88. She has some miles on her. The doors doesn’t open right sometimes so give it a bulge. Other times, the trunk doesn’t move at all.”

“Thank you so much sir, we really need the help,” Jerry’s partner said, “what dye say, we’ll pay you once we go ‘ome.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary. Say, where are you folks from? If there is a gun market around your area, I would like to pick up some ammo for my 12 shooter. She only has three rounds left. Oh, and perhaps, let me ask where the nearest one is. Let me call the police receiver.”

“How did you get your hands on that?”

“My friend used to be a county sheriff. He felt bad for me and my family so he gave me this so we could seek help faster when we needed to. I like listening to the calls for suspects too. Also, he sometimes ca-.”

“All units, please respond. Two possible men has been identified as murder suspects in the Dawson area. Code 1-4-5-62-1. Please keep your heads up for two men, both wearing hats, dirty undershirt vests, possible jeans, and unshaven. Be aware that they are armed and travel in a white, Chevy van. You have a go-ahead on execution or arrest upon sighting.”

“Well I wonder what those folks are up to. So where did you guys say you were going again?”

Tod turned and saw the two criminals in his backseat.

“Yeah…. We’re.. are awake. That police receiver must be faulty or something. What kind of nonsense are they ta-“

“I’ll give you ten seconds until I call the police. Do whatever you wish.”

Jerry and his partner scrambled to open the door. They screamed and cursed about leaving all of their weapons in the van, now hundreds of yards away. Due to the prolonged age of the car, the interior mechanism in the doorframe was weak and rusted. After desperately turning and adjusting the knob, Jerry managed to kick the door open. Tod, in the front seat, loaded his 12 gauge shotgun with his final three bullets. When the gun was prepared, he stepped out and counted.

Jerry and his partner in crime were bolting away from the vehicle on the empty interstate. They were around a hundred feet from Tod when the ten seconds were up. The ex-sniper raised the gun, aimed it towards Jerry’s feet and fired. He did the same to the other criminal.

Excruciating screams ripped through the air. Jerry and his partner continued to desperately crawl away from Tod’s direction. Tod calmly walked towards the two murderers with a smile on his face, carrying his shotgun with only one round left.

“Tell me son, what’s your name?” Tod asked Jerry gently, who winced and moaned uncontrollably.

“Je-e-eerry KKugge-el,” Jerry replied.

Jerry’s eyes couldn’t see the punch as it headed towards him. He couldn’t see the ones following the first as Tod struck him, again and again. Breathlessly, Tod stopped after delivering a multitude of blows as forcefully as his seventy-four years old limbs could endure.

“JERRY KUGEL. WAS. MY. SON’S. NAME! DON’T YOU LIE TO ME YOU SICK BASTARD! Now tell what your real name is before I BREAK YOUR TEETH AND TWIRL YOUR SPINE!”

“I’mmm sooo-rry sssirrr, ppplease don’t hitmeagian, myymy dad kiiilleed my famillly wheeen I was seeeefveeen. Jeeeeryry was myy name tthat he gavvve me.”

Tod felt his heart tumble to the ground.
“If you are my son, then I have a better reason to beat the living daylights out of you. But just for today, I won’t. And you know why? Your mother and your grandpa and grandma are waiting for me. They would NEVER have thought you became THIS BEAST OF A MAN.”
With his last words, Tod landed one more blow upon his son, knocking him unconscious. As for the other criminal, he left him untouched. Dragging the two back to the car, Tod opened the trunk. He piled his son and the partner in the mere space that the vehicle accommodated and slammed the hood shut. Tod looked at his hands and saw them soaking red. As tears began to flow down his face, the clear crystals took away the pain and anguish from his son’s blood. Tod made his way into the driver’s seat and dialed on the police intercom.
“Dispatch please respond. This is an unauthorized civilian calling you from interstate 47, 300 somewhat meters from Dawson County. The suspects are in sight. THEY ARE RAPIDLY ADVANCING towards my direction. I am armed but I will need backup. Please send help ASAP.”
Tod took a deep breath and grabbed his shotgun. Checking that there was one more pellet in the magazine, he cocked the weapon. He twisted his hand and in turn, switched the barrel of the gun to face his chest. Tod Kugel took his final breath and closed his eyes.
In his mind, Tod was sent back to the battlefield where thousands of enemies invaded at once. As he took a closer look, all of the combatants had his exact appearance. So he smiled. And pulled the trigger. And again. And again.
When the criminals from the trunk of the car heard the gunshots, it was as if bullets penetrated their hearts. Tears flowed down Jerry’s face and towards his feet as he took shallow breathes. The tears had a dark red tint, just like the ones the woman cried during the robbery. In the end, Jerry’s tomb was in the trunk of a car.
Just like the woman who cried during the robbery.