THE CHOICE

ELEVEN

TIM WAS DOING THE UNTHINKABLE. It was so unreal that Jack blinked hard, trying to clear his vision and make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Was Tim offering Jack his own pistol? Why? Wasn't Tim afraid Jack might try to shoot him and end this whole sordid affair?

"Do not attempt to grow a brain," Tim said, menacingly.

That dispelled any fantasies Jack was having about waiting until the perfect moment, pulling up his pistol in the most accurate aim, and firing off a single round into the man's forehead and saving his family like a superhero in the movies. But this wasn't the movies. This was real life. And the way Tim had his handgun centered on Jack reminded him how one wrong move, one bad decision, and Tim Hullander would nearly empty his clip into Jack's chest, saving enough precious ammo to slaughter Madison and Connor and be out the door and on the run, having completed what he'd come here to do, even if it didn't go down exactly as he had planned.

"Take the gun," Tim said.

Jack looked into Tim's demented eyes. The man was serious. Jack looked down long enough to gently take the pistol from Tim's hand. The weight of the weapon, coupled with the fear and anxiety Jack was dealing with in that moment, made the pistol shake uncontrollably in his grasp.

"Easy does it," Tim said, making sure Jack didn't fire off a round too soon and spoil the party.

Jack was hot all over. It was a good thing he wasn't planning to shoot Tim. As nervous as he was, he might end up shooting himself instead.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Jack asked.

Tim smiled again, "We're going to play The Choice."

"And what is that?"

But like morbid intuition, Jack already knew.

"How much do you love your wife?" Tim asked.

Jack looked at Madison. He had never seen her so frightened.

"More than life itself," Jack responded flatly and almost numb.

Tim pointed over at Connor. "And what about your boy? You'd do just about anything for your kid, wouldn't you, Jack?"

Tears started welling in Jack's eyes.

"Yes, I would."

"Would you kill your wife to save your son?"

All the feeling ran out of Jack's body. He was so feeble he feared he might just fall over.

"Or what about your son, Jack?"

Tim motioned to the toddler who stood with both arms wrapped around his mother's right leg, burying his face in her hip.

"Would you kill your only son to save your wife?"

Jack looked over at Tim with as much desperation as he could gather. "For the love of God, man... Don't make me do this!"

Tim laughed.

"This is what it's all about-payback," Tim said. "By a single action you took away everything I had. And now, by your own hand, you're about to take away one of the two most important things in your life."

Tim put his hand on Jack's shoulder, causing him to flinch. Tim looked at him, almost magnanimously. "That's the best part about all of this, Jack. You see, it wasn't enough for me to come in here and take care of business myself. It wasn't good enough for me to shoot them both in front of you. I had to step it up. It had to be more than that, bigger than that-something that in fifty years from now, when I'm an old man, I'll still be able to look back on it and smile that I got you back that good."

"You're sick," Jack sneered with hateful tears pouring from his eyes.

Tim shook his head matter-of-factly. "Nope. This was the only way for you to know how it feels to not only lose the things that are most important to you but feel like it was all your fault."

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked through clenched teeth.

"What am I talking about?" Tim nearly screamed. "I'm talking about being a father and husband, and how it makes you feel when you can't support them, when there's no food in the kitchen, when the lights are getting shut off. When you feel like it's your fault that your wife and kids packed their bags and walked out the front door because they can't stand to live the only life you're able to provide for them."

Tim got back into Jack's face. "You killed me! You killed my family! And the crazy part is that even though it was all your fault, I'm the one who felt responsible-like I did something wrong-because I was supposed to be the provider. I was supposed to be the husband and father that could give my family the life they deserved, not living on ramen noodles and having their cell phones shut off, and me having to watch every day as the situation got worse and worse and realizing there was absolutely fucking nothing I could do about it!"

Tim grabbed Jack's hand and aimed the pistol at Madison. "So, SHOOT, Jack! Tell me how it feels to be responsible for killing those you love most, because that's exactly what it felt like for me!"

Madison flinched when the pistol was leveled at her. Connor dug his face even more deeply into her hip.

"Oh, no?" Tim yelled.

He grabbed Jack's hand again and lowered the pistol at Connor.

"Then the boy it is!" Tim said, his breath catching from the adrenaline running through his veins. "Shoot the boy, Jack. Save your wife!"

Jack couldn't move. He was frozen in place and time, wailing and sobbing in a level of anguish and apprehension that he'd never experienced before.

"JACK!! GODDAMMIT, SHOOT!!" Tim screamed in his face.

The air was so thick with tension and catastrophe that it seemed the entire room was spinning and falling apart all at the same time.

"I... can't," Jack managed to whimper.

Tim calmed a bit, giving a false sense of kindness. "What was that, Jack? What did you say?"

Jack shot a glance back at Tim. "I said I can't do it!" He broke down in loud, hopeless sobs.

Tim gave an unsympathetic glare. "Well, you better figure it out, boss-man." He took ahold of Jack's hand and brought the pistol up to Jack's face. "Because if you don't kill one of them now, I'm going to kill both of them... and then I'm going to kill you. It's not how I want this to go down, Jack, but the choice is yours-either one of you dies, or all three of you die.

"The choice is yours."