Houseboat

by Paul Shadinger

  I knew the longer I delayed behind the bushes, the more time I was giving Hollis to become entrenched wherever he was hiding in the lighthouse. I knew I had to make a move, and I had to make it now. After I took a quick breath, as quickly and as quietly as possible, I started to run zigzag to an opening which I assumed must have been the main opening to the lighthouse at the side of the tower. Every moment I expected to hear a gunshot, or even worse, to feel the hot searing pain of a bullet tearing into my flesh.

  By the time I reached the shadow of the tower, my heart was pounding in my chest again, and again I had to force myself to take slower breaths to calm down. While I tried to settle down I glanced back, and from this new angle, I could tell that it was definitely Sakol lying on the ground. He moved slightly, groaned, and then settled down again. My heart soared to see he was still alive, for now anyway. I wanted to go to him and tell him to stay quiet. If he could just do that, then everything would be all right, but I didn’t want to give Hollis any idea of how many people had arrived, or of my location. I was positive he must’ve heard my truck drive into the parking lot, so he knew there was at least one more person at the lighthouse. I found it impossible to believe he wasn’t aware there was someone new on site.

  Several plans flipped through my mind and as I thought each one through, I discarded each in turn. It seemed the only way I could reach him was to go up the stairs around the walls that wrapped around the center of the lighthouse. I knew the correct thing to do was to wait for help. Frank was on his way, the island police were on the way, but that wasn’t good enough for me. No, this was something I wanted to do for myself. Hollis had called the tune and he had made this a personal matter. I had no idea what I was going to do to him; I just knew I had to be the first one to see Hollis.

  I quickly peeked inside the tower and then pulled my head back. What I could see of the tower was empty. The concrete steps circling around the inside of the tower were tiled and the center cavity of the lighthouse was empty from the bottom to the top. I warily slipped inside the tower and then stepped onto the first step, keeping my back tight against the wall. I could feel the cold dampness through my shirt from the tower wall as I tried to keep my body as close to the wall as possible. Although there was a great temptation, I resisted the urge to lean forward to try and look up through the center of the tower to see if I could spot Hollis. For a brief moment I wondered if I looked up the hollow shaft I might spot him, or better yet, be able to get a shot at him. Just as quickly I realized there was one big flaw in my thinking. I knew if he saw me first, any advantage I might have up to that point would be lost, and in addition, he’d have a direct shot down at me.

  I had just started to take the next step up the stairs when the stone tower was filled with noise as Hollis fired his gun. It startled me and I thought what an idiot I was for even trying to climb up the steps. The noise trapped inside of the tower was deafening and my ears rang from the loud report. I heard gunfire being returned from outside the tower, telling me someone else with a weapon had shown up, and Hollis was shooting at them. Hollis fired two more times, the noise filling the tower again with the loud bark of his gun. I had no idea what sort of gun, but from the sound of it, it must be a large-caliber. I tried to take some comfort in knowing he had three bullets fewer than before but it did little to calm my nerves.

  During the exchange of gunfire which masked any noise of my movement, I’d moved up several steps. I had the pattern of the height of the steps down and I no longer felt the need to look down at my feet. With each step I moved up the inside of the tower. Finally I’d climbed up far enough and I was now in a position where I could see a little of the top floor. I had reached a point where the next time I’d traversed around the spiral stairs, I’d be able to see across the entire top floor. The downside to this was anyone on the top level would then have a clear view of me. As I stood there wondering what to do next, Hollis stepped into my view. Quickly, I pointed and fired twice using all the training Uncle Sam had provided me, so long ago.

  Hayward screamed and fell to the floor. I saw him grabbing at one of his knees as he rolled away from the opening. Keeping my eyes on the opening above me, I started moving around the stairs again until I was in full view if anyone glanced over the ridge of the top floor. With my gun held in front of me, I knew I had to take my advantage now. Without looking at my feet, I continued moving up the stairs, as quickly as possible.

  Hollis was quiet now, too quiet. I continued to keep my eyes trained on the rim of the top floor where I had seen him fall, ready to take another shot if I had an opportunity. My focus was completely on watching what was above me and suddenly one of the stairs was just different enough that I tripped, causing me to fall forward onto the remaining stairs. When my body hit the steps, the pain in my ribs made me gasp, and I let out a loud groan. I quickly glanced down to see what had tripped me. When I looked up, I saw Hollis looking down at me with a grin on his face, aiming his gun at me.

  Lucky for me I’d fallen forward with my gun hand in front and above me. I quickly lifted my pistol, and as fast as I could, I snapped off two more shots and as I fired, I saw a flash come from his pistol. The roar of the two guns rang in my ears and suddenly my upper right leg went numb, but I could still feel it was hot and wet. I had no idea if I’d hit Hollis with my wild shots.

  I lay there waiting to see if Hollis would look again over the edge. After a few moments of seeing no Hollis, I tried to move upward. My right leg would no longer move on its own. I couldn’t stay where I was, I had to move. I found that by using my arms and left leg, I could crawl upward one step at a time.

  Finally, I reached a point where the next stair would give me a complete unobstructed view across the top floor. I pushed myself up for a quick look, expecting to feel another hot pain strike my body again. I saw Hollis sitting with his back propped up against the tower wall. When he saw me, he started to lift his gun from his lap to take a shot at me and I dropped back down as far as I could. I heard his pistol click on an empty chamber, and then a second later I felt his pistol bounce off the top of my shoulders. He’d thrown his empty gun at me. The pain caused by the dull blow made me give an involuntary grunt. I wanted to look again, but I had no idea if he had another weapon.

  The stalemate continued for a few more moments and I was becoming aware if I didn’t move soon, I was going to have problems from the loss of blood. It already felt as if the tower was starting to move on its own, and my leg was throbbing. I saw the growing pool of blood on the stone step.

  Reaching deep inside me, I screwed up all the strength I had left, and peeked again over the rim. Hayward was holding his left arm against his body, trying to keep his shoulder from moving and losing any more blood. I was pleased to see I’d managed to hit him with one of my wild shots. There was another pistol on the ground. I could see he was trying to load it, but doing so with great difficulty. His lower left leg was lying in a pool of blood from my bullet that had hit his knee.

  I motioned for him to toss the pistol to the side and as I pulled myself up the last few stairs, he did. I never took my pistol off him. Finally, I was on the top step, resting on the concrete at the top of the lighthouse. Hollis was now leaning against the wall of the turret, his head on the rusted railing, while I was prone with my gun trained on him.

  As I lay there, my thoughts turned to Sakol lying outside on the sand, and not knowing if he was still alive started a slow burn inside of me. Then I thought of when he’d shot Jeff L., and how close it had been for him. My thoughts then went to Sharon and when he shot her, how close I’d come to losing her. I knew I had to keep my thoughts away from her. Finally, I remembered BJ and all the wonderful memories of her flooded through my mind.

  The anger welled up inside of me at the man lying in front of me. What issues he had with me were still unknown. But what angered me the most was why he would think he had the right to put those I cared for in harm’s way? I
n my anger, I cocked my gun. Hollis looked at me, and then he started to laugh. Finally, he whispered, “You can’t just shoot me. I’m unarmed. It’s been too long since Nam. You can’t just kill anyone in cold blood anymore. You’re not scaring me in the least.”

  I kept my pistol cocked and aimed at him. “Why!” I asked. “Why did you come after me? What did I do to you?”

  Hollis hissed at me, “You took away the last few weeks I should have had with Denny.”

  I snarled back at him, “Bullshit. You were the one who shot him.”

  “It was your god damn dog that shit in that yard, and then Denny slipped and fell. His bones were so brittle from all the cancer medication he never had a fair chance. But I got even for Denny, didn’t I?”

  “But it was still you who shot Denny. You killed him; not me.”

  Hollis screamed, “I had to, there was no way I could carry him, and we promised to never leave the other behind. But it was your damn dog’s fault and that makes it yours.”

  “You aren’t going to put that on me, you shot your fudge packin’ buddy. There was no reason to do what you did, you’re just fucking crazy!”

  “Shut up. Just shut up,” he screamed at me.

  All the pain this asshole had caused me over the past few weeks continued to wash over me. I thought about how close I’d been to losing Sharon and the pain of those thoughts brought tears to my eyes. My thoughts went to Jeff, and now I wondered if Sakol was still alive. I knew better and I carefully stayed away from any thoughts about BJ.

  Hollis looked at me and laughed harder than before. “See what I mean? See how pissed you are and you can’t do a thing. You have become quite the pussy. Too long since you had to do this…” He waved his hand at my outstretched gun, “Well, pussy, what are you going to do now?”

  I tried. Honest I tried as hard as I could to just turn and crawl back down the stairs. For some strange reason, I found now I was willing to let the law deal with him. I was fairly certain what he was trying to do to me. I figured he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison, and he wanted to goad me into pulling the trigger. Hollis knew that once the prison population learned of his sexual orientation, he was in for a difficult time. He was going to spend the rest of his life in hell. He wanted me to end it right there. In his mind he felt since Price was gone there was nobody left, nobody left to take care of him and make sure he wasn’t left behind alive. He was going to keep pushing until he pushed me to shoot him, and the problem was I really wanted to. Every fiber inside me just wanted to even the score, for everything he’d done to me, and everything he’d done to everyone I cared for.

  If he hadn’t called me a fucking pussy again, I probably would have crawled away. He called me a pussy again and I just wanted him to shut up! I wanted him to leave me alone. “Pussy. Pussy. Pussy.” He started chanting, and that’s when I shot him. Shot him right in the arch of his right foot.

  I watched as his body jumped and he screamed in pain. I hate to admit it, but I got a lot of satisfaction from causing him so much pain. He reached down as best he could to grab the foot, and with the blood oozing through his fingers he swore at me again, screaming now how he’d enjoyed shooting Jeff L..

  He leaned towards me, screaming, “My only regret is that your cop buddy didn’t die.” This time I shot him in the arch of his left foot. That time was for Jeff L.. Now he was screaming at the top of his lungs. I knew this was not what he wanted. He wanted one bullet; he wanted everything to end quickly. He wasn’t supposed to feel the pain. It was supposed to end as it had for Price, a bullet and then the eternal sleep.

  I could feel my world starting to tilt and I knew I probably was going to pass out shortly. Hollis continued screaming at me. In the distance, I could hear the sound of more sirens and I knew it was over. It was time for me to see if I could crawl down the stairs. There was no way Hollis could crawl down the tower and make any escape. His time had run out.

  I really would have made it this time, except now Hollis was screaming at me about Blackjack. Hearing her name released the flood. No longer could I keep the memoires at bay. His tirade brought back all the memories of that sweet wonderful dog, and I no longer tried to stop them, I allowed them to flow through my mind. I remembered all the times we rode together in the car, all the walks at night, the nights with her sitting in my lap as I looked across the lake and up the canal. I remembered everything I could about her, and I allowed myself to wallow in the grief for her I’d worked so hard up to that point to put away. Of course, what hurt the most was the thought that I’d never see her again, never hold her again. I thought about how this pig had stolen her away from me.

  His voice intruded on my thoughts. As I focused on his voice, I could hear him telling me how he’d enjoyed killing BJ. He told me about how he had paid her back for causing Denny to fall and break his leg. Hollis described in careful detail how much he’d enjoyed slipping the zip tie over her head and then watching her struggle for a breath.

  The sirens had stopped now, and I could hear people running across the parking lot, I could hear people shouting just outside the bottom of the tower. But that didn’t matter anymore. His last comment about BJ was the final straw. I aimed my pistol between his eyes and slowly pulled back the hammer. Hollis could see my decision in my eyes. He realized he’d gone too far, and now I was going to grant him his wish. I was ready to pull the trigger.

  However, now that he realized he really was going to die, he seemed to have had a change of heart. His mouth started to form the word “no” as he saw I was really going to pull the trigger. I was going to grant him his wish and he was going to die. It was time he paid for what he’d done to BJ. As I squeezed the trigger, the last bullet in my gun nailed him directly between his beady little eyes, stopping the short scream coming from his lips. As if in slow motion, I saw the hole appear in his forehead, and then his head snapped back. I saw the back of his head explode, and he fell on his side. The asshole was dead.

  My gun slipped from my hand and fell onto the stone floor. My tears flowed, but I found killing Hollis hadn’t helped ease the pain of losing BJ. The pain of her loss was still there. However, I did find I was as satisfied as I could be with the way things were. Hollis was dead, and no trick lawyer was going to persuade a jury he was not guilty. There might have been some form of poetic justice if Hollis had spent the rest of his life in prison, but I’d ended it. As far as I was concerned, I’d served out the proper justice.

  I felt everything slipping away, and in the background, I heard people shouting. There was the sound of people coming up the steps, and as I laid my head on the top stair, I could feel the cold stone against my wet cheek.

  As the lights started to fade, my last thoughts were, “BJ, sweetheart, that was for you! I love you, and I miss you. Sleep well little one!”

  Epilogue

  It was May 2000, and January had passed without the world ending. Elevators didn’t plunge downwards, stoplights kept working, ATM machines kept spitting out money and all of the computers kept things on track. The world had been saved and all of the doomsayers had been proven wrong. And the best part of it was I still ha­­d an extra pound of coffee in the freezer. I’d been in the hospital when it all happened, but when I finally woke up, the world was still spinning, Sharon was recovering, Jeff L. was out of the hospital and the police wanted to talk to me about what happened on Ross Island on Christmas Day. At least most of what was going on was good.

  On this beautiful May morning, Sharon and I were sitting in the warmth of the sun on the ferry’s deck, and the heat felt good on my thigh. Other than a slight limp, I’d recovered from my gunshot wound. I was still doing therapy, but the outlook was good, and the pain was infrequent. With Sharon’s head resting on my shoulder, the two of us stood there holding hands, watching the ferry dock fade off into the distance.

  Finally, I glanced to my left, “Wanna a cup of coffee?�
� I asked Sharon.

  Her smile warmed my soul. “Sure, you buying?” Sharon slipped her arm around my waist and gave me a hug.

  “For you, anything, Doll.” And she knew I was telling her the truth, and she hugged me once more.

  After we got our hot drinks, we made our way back down to my new truck. Ol’ Faithful had finally given up the ghost, and I felt obligated to buy a different truck. The new one had a lot more bells and whistles than the old one, but for some reason I really missed Ol’ Faithful. I’ll admit one thing. I don’t do well with change. As I unlocked the truck, it occurred to me that I hadn’t come up with a name for this truck. For now, it was just “the new truck.” Not a lot of zip I’ll admit, but I was having a problem coming up with a fitting name. Sharon had suggested that perhaps I was growing up, and no longer needed to name my cars. What I said to her and what I thought were two different things.

  When I opened the door for Sharon for her to step into the truck, she had to fight for her seat. The two puppies we’d bought a few weeks ago were settled in, it seems they felt since we had left them in the truck, they were entitled to the front seat. It was their own.

  And you ask, “How did we end up with two dogs?” Well, that’s a story by itself. A few days after the hospital released us, Sharon took me for a ride to a farm way out in the sticks. The farm was also a kennel, and the main breed they specialized in was Cocker Spaniels. Sharon had already called ahead, and found out one of their show females had just had a litter of nine and they were ready for adoption. Sharon was informed that all of them were available.