VINTAGE

HOW HE DIED

The guy that wanted to shot a gun

The night was hot and quiet. Sitting in a lone patrol car parked on a street corner, Police Corporal Floyd shifted uneasily on his seat. The heat was unbearable and he had to stay till morning. Cursing, he looked beside him. Sited, and reading a book under the dim yellow light of the vehicle was sergeant Lewis. He read, quietly mouthing the words as he chewed a gum. Floyd sighed, pushing his right hand under his hat and scratching his head. The hat fell off to the back of the car. He cursed again.

"You know there is no real thing going on in this town, right ?" He said out loud to the man beside him.

"Hmm." Lewis replied, still looking at the book he was reading.

"You didn't hear what I said ?" Floyd asked.

"He can't even hear me." He thought.

"Hmm. What was that again?" Lewis replied, letting the book drop from his hands unto the floor of the car.

"I said this goddamn town is as cold as a morgue." Floyd said, running his hands on the steering wheel.

"Oh sure it is. I could do with the cold in morgue, you know." Lewis replied.

"So we are going to sit here like a couple all night doing nothing ? Well, if we were a couple we could make love all night."

"Not sitting doing nothing. We are supposed to be driving round town all night. And about the couple thing, don't get any ideas about that." Lewis said.

"Driving round town doing what ? You mean patrolling empty streets save ones filled with ghosts and creepy creatures ? "

"Not really." Lewis replied, then added, "You're right. It has been a while. A while since we last saw some action in this town. But I'm satisfied."

"Of course. You being a sergeant that's understandable." Floyd said.

Just then, they both heard a motorcycle drive up the street towards the car. A lone trooper was riding it. It slowed and finally stopped as it reached the car.

"Hey Mark. What's brewing ?" Floyd said to the trooper.

"Phew! This is exciting. Hey you two. What are you doing sitting in the damn car ? " Mark (the trooper ) said.

"And what would be exciting ?" Lewis asked.

"The drive. You don't feel this damn heat. The breeze on your body, and all that. " Mark replied.

"That sounds like liberation." Lewis said, adding , "So can I get a ride ?"

"No way, I'm not riding double." Mark replied.

"I'm not riding double either. I want the bike. I'm tired of sitting in this car. It gives me cramps." Lewis replied.

"Well, it seems you have to get used to it because I'm taking off right now." Mark said.

"Wait there. I want the bike too. " Floyd said.

"No chance." Mark replied.

"Now Mark, I'm not really sure what your wife would do or if she would be pleased to hear about how you spent last Christmas eve. Or would she ?" Lewis asked with a smile.

Mark's mouth opened and closed. He took off his hat and scratched his head. Floyd's eyes widened.

"How did you find out ?" Mark asked.

"How I found out is the reason I am a sergeant. Now get off that bike and hand it over. " Lewis said, getting out of the car.

He walked round to the Floyd's window, where the Mark was standing beside the bike. Lewis mounted the bike.

"But about me. It's not fair. I wanted the bike too. " Floyd said.

"Same threat goes for you, son." Lewis replied , kick started the bike and rode away into night.

Mark cursed silently, went round the car to the other side and got in beside Floyd, where Lewis had been.

"I guess he has us where he wants us. " He said, as he settled down.

"Yeah. Wrapped around his little finger." Floyd replied, then asked "So in whose booth at the club did you spend last Christmas eve ? "

"In Zoe's. " Mark replied.

Floyd sucked in breath. Zoe was the most popular girl at the strip club. She had the largest bust he had ever seen in his entire life and she was on demand too. If every curse married women had made upon her was a spike, she would have more spikes than she had hair on her head.

"I see." Floyd said, letting out the breath he had held in.

They sat in silence for some time, then Mark spoke out.

"You know that Rodrigo ? "

"If you mean that fat snob of an Italian, then I think I do. " Floyd replied.

"He's the one I'm talking about. He will be sixty by midnight. He's throwing a party."

"They always throw parties. That's the least he could do. "

"Yes. But this one has something quiet odd. He said in the papers he had never touched a gun his whole life." Mark said

"That lying bastard. Who does not know of his dirty past ?" Floyd said.

"So, " Mark went on, " He wants to shoot a gun after he cuts the cake."

"That's nuts. What's cool in shooting a damn pistol ?"

"Not a pistol."

"A revolver ? "

"A Thompson. "

"Sweet motherfucking Jesus Christ of Galilee ! A Tommy ? That beast they give to those county Sheriffs ? You ever shot one ?"

"Yeah. It was my companion during the war. The chief will be there too." Mark said.

Floyd shrugged.

"He's covered then. I wonder if that bloke can handle all of that beast. " Floyd said, stretching in his seat.

They sat in silence for some time, then a rage of gunfire tore through the night. Floyd stiffened.

"I think that's him." Mark said.

"Yeah, for sure. "

The gun went on and on for a long time then stopped suddenly.

"That didn't sound good." Floyd said.

Even as he spoke, two patrol cars with sirens blasting sped past them into the night. Two minutes later, several ambulance vehicles followed.

"Now that is not good at all." Floyd said, starting the car this time and lurching it unto the road.

Everything made sense by morning. The papers reported that Rodrigo had killed everyone at the party, including the chief of Police, then killed himself. No one single witness was found. He was declared wanted by the police. After reading the papers the next morning, Mark was not entirely convinced there were no witnesses. Also how can a man shoot himself several times with a machine gun ? It wasn't possible.