Mykal's Return to Towbar's World

by Dave Hazel

  The captain was hit three times in the chest causing his hand to squeeze so tightly, he snapped the wooden pointer. All three men were struck by at least four rounds each. All three died quickly which sent shock waves of fear through the conference room. The conference room door had been left open.

  Boris looked to his right, where the back office personnel and the Wing Security Control offices were. In the T-intersection there were four people who had responded to the noise. Three came from the admin offices and one was getting coffee for the WSC personnel on duty. The staff sergeant from WSC had a coffee pot in one hand and had just drawn his .38 revolver with the other.

  They all stood in bewilderment at the sight of Boris, their office cleaner, standing there with an M-60 machinegun loaded with a long belt of ammunition. The odd sight of smoke coming from the barrel and Boris smiling at them shocked them. The smell of gunfire filled the air and Boris gave them the same expression he’d given when they complimented him on a job well done for cleaning their rooms and emptying the trash.

  The Wing Security Controller slowly raised his hand gun. Instinctively, instead of dropping the pot of coffee, he tried hard not to spill the hot liquid. Both his hands trembled wildly. His eyes and Boris’s eyes were locked and he saw into Boris’s cold, mean, stare. Boris’s eyes lacked any compassion or life. Before he could tell Boris to put his weapon down the machine gun rattled off death.

  The coffee pot exploded and another of the 7.62mm rounds struck the revolver knocking the handgun back into his face. His lip split and hot coffee was splashed all over his arms and chest, but none of that mattered. Burning lead punched his body into a lifeless form.

  The round that smashed the coffee pot bore into his wrist with such a force that it nearly snapped his hand off. Two more rounds penetrated his chest and ripped through his back. He fell leaving only his legs extended into the T-intersection.

  Swinging his barrel he struck three of the administrative personnel. The woman in front, a civilian employee, seven months pregnant, froze where she stood and died. Four rounds stitched up through her belly and her chest killing both her and her unborn baby which would have been her third child.

  The female staff sergeant standing behind her took a round to the chest. She stumbled back into the admin area and collapsed where she died. The third female, an A1C had been nicked by three separate rounds hitting her shoulder, bicep and forearm. She ran away screaming to the back offices. She felt no pain and she couldn’t believe her luck. She ran for safety and she made a vow to God to quit her party life style and to start going to church with her roommate.

  Boris turned the opposite direction and fired wildly down the hall, just in case anyone would try to sneak up on him. He shot up the trophy case and “Outstanding Personnel” board. Brick and cement, glass and plastic shattered everywhere. The corridor was empty and eerily silent.

  “Eat this,” he yelled and fired several more short bursts down the vacant hall marking the walls and the ceiling with rage.

  Boris sensed movement to his right at the Conference room door. Three security policemen taking part in the staff meeting opened the door to rush him in an attempt to overpower him. Master Sergeant Caso, followed by Lieutenant Quist and Lieutenant Snow moved too slowly. Boris pulled his .38 revolver with his left hand.

  Caso took two shots to the chest and a third to the center of his head. “C’mon heroes,” Boris yelled while shooting. “Screw you,” he screamed as he drilled Quist in the right shoulder making him drop to his knees. Lieutenant Snow stopped, withdrew and dove back into the room seeking cover. “C’mon, show me how bad you are,” Boris yelled. He pressed the .38 to Quist’s forehead.

  Quist held his bleeding shoulder and refused to open his eyes. He waited for everything to go black permanently. Quist desperately wanted to beg for his life but wasn’t sure what words would work. He couldn’t stop the trembling that vibrated through his entire being. He thought deeply of his wife and four children. If these were going to be the last few moments of his life he wanted his thoughts to be of his family.

  “Get up,” Boris said and took Quist by surprise. “Since you had the balls to try something, I’ll cut you some slack. But not if you try it again.” Boris smiled because he had this officer’s life in his hands, at the tip of his finger on the trigger. Boris played god and chose to allow this man to live. “Get up,” Boris snarled when Quist stuttered and stammered for words.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Quist nearly sobbed with joy now that he wasn’t going to join Master Sergeant Caso and the others on the floor. He tried to raise his right hand, but couldn’t lift it.

  With the door to the Conference room open there was a blind spot preventing Boris from seeing into the entire room. A five foot walk way into the large theatre style room blocked his view. “Go through there and tell everyone to remain seated with their hands up on the back of the seat in front of them. If they try anything I’ll go ballistic with this 60. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes Sir, yes Sir,” Quist replied and had no regrets for addressing an enlisted person as ‘Sir’. It wasn’t the lower rank he demonstrated his respect to, but rather to the terrible, deadly, weapon he wielded in his hands.

  “Please, everyone stay seated and place your hands on the chair that is in front of you,” Quist requested as they entered the room. “He is armed with an M-60 and he will open fire if we do not obey his orders.”

  Boris readied the machine gun so if anyone did try to stop him he would kill everyone in the room. He quickly glanced back across the hall to the open guard mount room. He saw some were still alive and was tempted to go finish his job, but he knew he would run the risk of losing this bigger catch.

  Boris was proud of his work. He accomplished far more than he thought possible.

  The blood and gore made him proud of what he had done, not necessarily the lives he destroyed. For the time being they weren’t even registering in his mind as real people. They were the bastards and assholes that made his life a living hell. He was just dishing out revenge. He had put an end to their taunts and verbal abuse. He knew they laughed at him and mocked him behind his back since he was forced to clean their toilets, emptied their garbage cans and mopped their floors. ‘They’ll never laugh at me again.’

  Boris saw the puddles of crimson forming around those he attacked in the guard mount room. Several puddles connected to other puddles to cover the floor with a dark, wet, blanket. He saw one head split in two and it looked like half of a dead person was looking at him. ‘It’s probably overkill,’ he thought. ‘But it’s too late now. I can’t undo this.’ He shrugged and he walked into the room, ready to shoot again.

  Boris had to smile when he came into full view of the room. Some of the people crouching behind the seat in front of them were some of the very people who were making his life miserable. ‘They’re scared shitless of me,’ he thought triumphantly and swung the deadly machine gun at them. They were compliant with his orders to place their hands on the back of the chair in front of them. But Boris clearly saw some were trying to hide their faces. ‘They don’t want to be seen by this crazed madman,’ he giggled in thought.

  In the corner of the room, directly beyond where three bodies lay crumpled, there stood a full length mirror that hadn’t been struck by any rounds. Taped to the top and bottom of the mirror was a hand written message; “Air Force Regulation 35-10 is for YOU!” The regulation covered dress and appearance in the Air Force. The mirror was to give everyone in uniform an opportunity to get “squared away” before the morning inspection. Standing in front of the mirror reminded Boris of how much he hated his life. He quickly fired a burst of three rounds into the mirror shattering it into a hundred pieces. He wasn’t concerned about ricochets. He hated the man in the mirror and wanted the mirror destroyed. He didn’t want to be reminded of what he had become.

  “I’m going to ask this only once,” Boris shouted and swung his deadly killing machine in their directio
n. “Is anyone in here armed with a weapon?” No one answered. “If I find out someone is armed and you don’t tell me I will kill everyone in here. Is anyone armed?”

  They all replied negatively and they all remained in place with their hands resting on the chair in front of them.

  Boris knew no one tried to escape through the windows. It was impossible for a human to squeeze between several six inch slots that were five feet off the floor. None of them had even tried to open the window to peer out. Doing a quick head count he found that he had thirty-one hostages.

  “All right now,” Boris called out. “I’m in charge here. Colonel Parker? Where’s Colonel Parker?” He called again as they all tried to hide their faces behind the seats before them. “There you are,” he said playfully as if talking to a child who hid from him. “Were you trying not to be seen by me?” He continued talking like he was talking to a three year old. “Were you trying to hide from me?”

  “No. No I was not,” the Colonel lied.

  “Since you’re top dog, I want you up front. Get in the front row now,” he demanded in a less friendly tone. “Like I said, I’m running the show now and if anyone doesn’t like it you can join these guys,” he nodded to the dead on the floor. “Get in this damn chair, now,” Boris screamed at Parker who moved slowly. When Boris yelled saliva shot wildly from his mouth. “Do you think I’m screwing around with you, dip shit?” He yelled and slapped Parker on the back of the head as he took his seat.

  All the hostages tried to remain calm, but they were all visibly trembling. There was not one person who wanted to test Boris to see how far he would go.

  “Ah, who do we have here? Lieutenant Carlstradt,” Boris said with an evil smile when he scanned the back of the room. “That friggin flat top would stick out anywhere,” he commented on the man’s high and tight military haircut. “Mister Army wanna be. King asshole of Minot,” Boris declared when he locked eyes with the terrified man. “FSO of Crew 7, Lieutenant Carlstradt. In your case the FSO stands for Friggin Shit Officer. Get up here and sit beside this other scumbag low life, Parker. I said get your friggin ass up here,” Boris screamed hatefully when the man hesitated to move. He spat more saliva as he spewed his venomous words. “Do I gotta make a friggin example of you? You damn skin head,” he yelled and pulled his .44 magnum from his waist band.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Carlstradt gave in weakly and threw his hands into the air. The man was a body builder and looked like he would easily take Boris, but Boris had the great equalizer. Carlstradt’s voice sounded terrified and soft, quite different than his usual loud, pushy and demanding vocal bullhorn everyone knew. With a wave of the barrel Boris stopped him from sitting next to Parker, and directed him across the aisle to the second section of seating.

  Just as Carlstradt passed in front of Boris to take the front seat in the other row Boris shot him in the back of the head with the .44 magnum. The thunderous explosion took everyone by surprise and caused a few whimpers and gasps of horror. With one quick motion Boris punched a fist size hole in the back of Carlstradt’s shaved skull. His face exploded outward throwing flesh and bone splinters scattered about the front of the room. His lifeless form fell face first onto the first row of theater seats and rolled onto the floor where he laid face down. Lieutenant Carlstradt never knew what hit him.

  “Oh no, dear God in heaven, no,” Parker gasped. He knew he topped Boris’s hit list. Parker knew he didn’t treat Boris very well during the past couple months. Parker’s aging face seemed to double in years in just moments. The wrinkles in his face suddenly quivered with each moment that passed.

  “That was to let you scumbags know I’m not playing games. Next time I tell you to do something you better friggin jump and do it quickly,” he yelled loudly with a snarl of his lips. “Does everyone understand what I just said?”

  There were a number of murmured “yes Sir.”

  “I can’t hear you,” he yelled in a sing-song way with his head tilted to one side.

  “Yes Sir,” all replied sharply and loudly.

  “Airman Traginsky, would you please explain why you’re taking such drastic actions?” Colonel Parker asked. He wouldn’t look Boris in the eye. He sounded close to hyperventilating and his hands trembled violently while he tried to hold tightly to his arm rests.

  “Why!? You dare ask me why!? You got a lotta friggin nerve, you piece of shit,” Boris hissed. “Well, I guess I’ll tell you why, Colonel ‘King Shit’ Parker. It’s because I’m tired of being screwed with. I’m tired of everyone laughing at me and saying all kinds of crap about me. They don’t even laugh behind my back anymore. They all laugh right in my face like I’m some little idiot. It started with you, cuz you wanted me to be a low life little janitor who cleans the toilets of all these people, and mops the floors they walk on, and empties the trash cans they fill. After all I been through in Towbar’s world I come back and get treated like this. I’m a damn joke to everyone. You turned me into a damned joke cuz you couldn’t find nothing better for me to do.”

  “Who has been treating you that way Robert?” Parker asked in an attempt to ease tensions by communicating one on one.

  “Like I said, it started with you and that friggin Crew 2,” he nodded his head toward the guard mount room. “They were the worst, but it’s not happening anymore,” he snickered. “I took care of them. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life in prison, it was worth it.” Boris smirked at the terrified stares. “I asked for help and nobody cared.”

  “Robert, I’m sorry, I never knew such harassment and abuse occurred,” Parker said and only glanced up at Boris as if to gauge his mood on the communication. “You should have notified me personally.”

  “And what would you have done?”

  “I would have ensured such actions would have ceased. I could have had you transferred to a different squadron. If you would have only made it known that you needed help--”

  “I made it known!” Boris yelled hatefully, almost hysterically. “I cried out for help all the damn time. It’s done! They won’t bother me no more. And the next time you bother me, it’ll be in hell!” Boris snarled and fired four shots into Colonel Parker’s face with his .44 magnum. Parker’s head ripped away leaving only the lower jaw.

  All four rounds ripped through Parker and three of them embedded into the wall harmlessly. One round went through a chair and into a master sergeant seated three rows back. The massive slug hit the man in the chest collapsing one of his lungs. He gasped for air for a few moments before he died in the arms of a lieutenant seated beside him.

  A roar of moans, cries of fear, and gasps of horror filled the room. Everyone became fearful to move. They didn’t want to do anything that would set him off. He obviously had no care or concern for fellow human beings. Life meant nothing to him. If he had been armed only with handguns they could rush him and overpower him. But being armed with a machinegun and a long belt of ammunition was a different story.

  “What the hell are you looking at?” Boris yelled and opened fire with the machine gun. He fired four, three round, bursts into the ceiling and the walls just to torment his captives. “Now, like I said, just don’t piss me off and everything should be fine,” he said as if he was having a normal conversation with them.

  “Lieutenant O’Connor,” Boris yelled to the FSO of Crew 2. When Boris mentioned the man’s name O’Connor’s breathing stopped and his face immediately lost all color. “O’Connor, I wiped out your entire Crew. I should make you join them,” Boris tormented him by shaking his .44 magnum. “But there was one time when Unger and Gilmore were ragging on me and you stopped them. I heard you warn them if they didn’t stop there would be serious consequences. Obviously they didn’t stop, but you did step in. It is only because of that incident, that I haven’t shot you.”

  O’Connor let out an audible sigh of relief and whispered his gratitude while his body continued to tremble uncontrollably.

  The room fell silent though the room was
filled with grown men on the verge of panic. Most sat in stunned horrified silence as pieces of the ceiling fell on them. They were not going to complain, they were not going to say anything or make any sudden movements. As a group their hope for survival depended on Boris having a change of heart or growing tired. Everyone wanted to stay out of his line of sight.

  ≈≈≈∞≈∞≈∞ PRESENT ∞≈∞≈∞≈≈≈

  “…and then that’s when you came Myk,” Boris finished telling his side of what took place. He lit up a cigarette. “Man, I’m so damn hot with this parka on. I’m sweating like crazy but I don’t wanna take it off,” he whispered. “I think they might try to rush me while I take it off. Plus I don’t want them to see that I’m hurt.”

  “You’re hurt?”

  “Yeah, I can feel I’m bleeding on my stomach. I think I mighta got hit by a ricochet when I shot up the guard mount room. Look,” he nodded down to the right side of his parka where his hand held the pistol grip of the machine gun.

  Mykal couldn’t see blood, but he saw a hole in the parka. “Why don’t you let me get you a doctor?”

  “Why Myk? I’m dead,” he replied in a civil tone. “There’s not gonna be any getting out of this. Besides, after what I did today, I know I don’t deserve to live. I killed a pregnant lady and I really didn’t mean to,” he shook his head, and true sadness sank in. “I know that isn’t gonna mean anything to anyone, but I honestly didn’t mean to kill her. She just happened to be there when I shot the place up cuz the WSC weenie pulled his piece. If he wouldn’t have pulled his piece I wouldn’t have shot them. It’s these scumbags that I wanted.”

  “I believe you. Look Boris, I don’t wanna see you get killed. Besides Towbar, you’re the only friend that I have left. I don’t wanna lose you buddy.”

  “I’m already dead Myk. I’m just waiting for my body to drop,” he said and forced a sad chuckle. Suddenly, Boris looked like the familiar friendly face he had always been. Mykal couldn’t imagine Boris killing dozens of people like a lunatic, but the evidence lay all around him. “I have to die today, Myk. Cuz I’m not gonna spend the rest of my life in prison.”