by Lucas Coon
Darren walked over to the side wall and picked up three chairs. Kayla situated herself in the center chair. She held Lilly tightly, it was obvious that she was uneasy with this situation. Lilly was completely passed out in Kayla's arms and it was probably for the best. Mitchell looked at the chair, but opted to remain standing.
"If you could please put your guns over here. I don't feel comfortable with guns." Darren reluctantly put his gun on the table near the door, Mitchell did the same. Neither man felt comfortable being unarmed, but if it was a requisite of having a safe place to stay then they would follow the request.
"Are we the only ones here?" Mitchell turned towards Denver. He looked the man over as best as he could. It was difficult to really figure anything out about him physically. He thought that he looked familiar, but couldn't quite place him.
"It's just us for now. Thank you for coming Kyle." Denver kept his gaze averted.
"Well, I don't know who Kyle is, but I'm Darren, this is Kayla and my daughter Lilly." He motioned to Mitchell for him to introduce himself.
"Oh, uh, I'm Mitchell." He extended his hand to Denver. He stood for a few moments waiting to complete the handshake. Denver looked at him in the eyes, but didn't move his arm at all. Mitchell lowered his hand to his side. "And you are?" Mitchell stood looking the man over. He still wasn't really communicating with the group. He tried to put a name to the face. "Wait, I know who you are." He squinted and made absolutely sure. "You're Denver Grant! Yeah, you're the DJ to Phantom Rock and Alternative, aren't you?"
"Glad to meet a fan." He smiled and turned to Mitchell. "So you know me?"
"Yeah. I used to listen to you on my way home from work. I actually ran into you at the grocery store one day. I doubt you remember that though, it was just a random encounter." Mitchell sounded more and more giddy by the word. "Huh, I didn’t realize that's where we were."
"Well, I'm glad you liked my show, Kyle. Have you been listening lately? Have you heard about the man at WMQZ dying? That bastard kicked the bucket! That means that I won Kyle, I won!" His volume started to increase as he ended his sentence. "I won! I get to be the radio now! My fans get to listen to me and me only! They all have to love me now!" He started to chuckle as he finished his sentence.
"Uh, Yeah, OK. That's great?" He turned and looked at Darren. The look on Darren's face defined the confusion that Mitchell was feeling internally. "So, we were just wanting to stay here overnight. That's OK right?"
"No Kyle! You can't leave!" Denver shouted at Mitchell. "You have to stay! Kyle, you're my only friend. If you leave, then I'll die Kyle!"
"Seriously, his name is Mitchell!" Darren was obviously done with Denver's antics. Darren's forward motion was met with Denver pulling a handgun from his pocket. He aimed it straight at Darren.
"I really don't give a damn if you live or die, Darren." Denver's blank stare became wide-eyed and angry. "If you're going to come between Kyle and me, I guess I'll just go ahead and blow your damn head off right now."
"Hey, let's just calm down." Mitchell attempted to talk Denver down from whatever high he was on. "No one needs to die here."
"Don't protect these people Kyle. They don't care about you. They only care about themselves. They work you to death and don't pay you enough money and they are more than willing to hang you out to dry if it benefits them."
"Hey, Denver, calm down." Mitchell reached out and put his hand on Denver's shoulder. Denver spun around and pulled the trigger of his handgun, launching a bullet in Mitchell's direction. The hot metal grazed Mitchell's right arm and flew past him into the wall, where it got lodged with a small amount of Mitchell's flesh.
"Ah, Son of a..." Mitchell spun and gripped his arm.
"Mitchell!" Darren stood up. Lilly opened her eyes at the sound of the gunshot. She started to cry out of both confusion and fear.
"Do not touch me, Kyle!" Denver stepped back from the group. "Wait, all of you! You all work for that WMQZ man don't you? Or are you in works with the Russian? No. No, that's not it. You all work for the military. You're all here to shut me down aren't you? Aren't you?!" He began shouting at them.
Mitchell remained seated on the ground gripping his arm. Blood was starting to soak into the camouflaged cotton surrounding the new hole in his shirt. The wound wasn't deep, but it was still bleeding and was incredibly painful. Darren started to step towards Denver, in an attempt to get the gun away from him, but he stepped back and aimed right at his head again.
"Sit back down!" Darren stood over the man. If this were a fair fight, he would've been able to take him without any issue. He considered attempting it anyway. "I said, sit back down!!"
"Daddy!" Lilly called out through her tears. "Daddy, I'm scared!" He looked at her. This was enough to convince him that charging the threat was not a good idea. He took a step back and sat down. He sat looking angrily at Denver. They locked eyes for a couple of moments, but Denver wasn't going to be intimidated. He turned towards Mitchell and pointed the handgun at him.
"Get up." Mitchell stayed on the ground for a moment. "I said get up." Denver kicked him. Mitchell turned his head towards Denver and looked up at him.
"Please don't do that. It gets old quickly." He slowly slumped his way to a standing position.
"Sit." Denver motioned the gun towards the chair to the right of Kayla. Mitchell limped over and sat down still holding his arm.
"What's wrong with mister Mitchell, mommy?" Lilly looked at him through her tears and could tell that he was in pain. “Is he going to die?”
"Oh don't worry about me, I'll be alright Lilly." He smiled at her, attempting to hold back the grimace look that he had been portraying since the bullet slashed his arm. He held onto the wound and looked up at Denver. Mitchell was angered with himself for once appreciating who this man was, at the same time, this man was not who he once was. He was used to hearing Denver crack jokes about corporate radio, or listening to callers complain about random things and then making fun of them. Overall, Denver was a light hearted person that lived to make a joke and get a few cheap laughs out of his listeners; he didn't seem crazy and Mitchell would've never expected this.
Mitchell took a moment to look around the room. He realized that everything that was in the room indicated who Denver was at this moment in time. The shattered window to the producer's room. The chairs thrown across the floor were a fantastic sign of a less than mentally sane state. Mitchell guessed that one of the chairs had probably gone through the window, which made sense. He looked over to the pile of food scraps crawling with bugs, while it disgusted him, he understood it. This man had been holed up in this room since the beginning of this chaotic event. While Kayla and Darren had each other and their daughter, Denver had nothing. He sat in this room day in and day out with no one to talk to and no one listening. The worst part of this was that Denver was used to people listening. He was used to broadcasting his voice to hundreds of people on a daily basis. He had spent his entire life developing a persona, an act that portrayed a man that was a leader. That man had clearly lost his mind. Mitchell almost felt sorry for him. The wound in his arm was the only thing stopping him from actually feeling bad and almost was all that Denver was going to get out of him. He looked over the group. Lilly was bawling her eyes out, Kayla was starting to tear up, and Darren was sweating in rage. He looked at the situation they were in. As he was staring at Denver and watched him yell, he noticed that he couldn't hear what he was saying. A deafening silence filled his ears, followed by a sharp ringing. As he watched the scenario he noticed that he felt the room spinning. He tried to keep breathing, but felt that he was going to sink into an unconscious state.
'Stay up Mitchell, now is not the time.' He tried to keep his thoughts rolling; it seemed to help. He watched Denver continue screaming. The vein in his neck kept getting stiffer and stiffer and the color of his face was shifting from pale to dark red. He tried to keep focus on the man's mouth as it flapped open and shut. He watched Denver wave the gun in his ha
nd around at the group. Mitchell kept his eyes focused on the firearm as it slowly drifted from pointing at Darren to touching the back of Lilly's head. For a split second Mitchell and Lilly met eyes. It was visually obvious that she screamed when it touched her head and the tears started to pour from her eyes harder. Mitchell stared directly into the little girl's adorable green eyes. Her hair was a mess and her face was beaming red. She had what looked to be dirt on her face, even though she'd been nowhere near anything with dirt. He could see the dampness streaming from her eyes and nose, and ending on her pink and purple striped shirt, which was equally as dirty. Mitchell assumed that the stains in her shirt would never come out, though he doubted that they would throw it away at the end of all this. He assumed they would treat it as a shooting survivor treats their bullet-holed clothing, or how Darren was going to treat his beard like a trophy. It was an attestation to their survival. It was the mark of a warrior; it proved they were there. It was a mental scar manifested physically.
Mitchell looked up at Darren and saw something he never expected, he was starting to cry. He could tell that it was fear; it wasn't sadness, it wasn't anger, it was fear. It was fear that this insane man was about to pull the trigger and end his young daughter's life. Because of where she was sitting, the odds were high that it would kill Kayla as well, but their instincts were both leaning towards wanting to save their daughter. Mitchell assumed this was what being a parent was like. It was all about not caring for yourself and only doing what was best for the young human that was dependent upon you. It was something that he wanted more than anything in the world to feel and was something that he looked forward to. He may not have been the best husband to Aria, but he gave it all to be a good partner in life. He was there for her no matter what. He was willing to do everything and anything that she needed from the minute she said "I do", and even more so the minute she told him she was pregnant. Mitchell thought about the last doctor visit they had, just before she got pregnant.
"Mitchell, Aria, I'm sorry to tell you guys but it looks like all of our tests are pointing to this being an impossibility. Mitchell, at this point, you are pretty much infertile. There are a number of possible things that can cause this, but honestly, the only thing we know at this moment is that...well...it's just not going to work." The doctor gave them the news in a manner that Mitchell felt was nonchalant. He had a look much like a news reporter that was reporting on a murder. It was a blank stare, like he was just telling a story and the couple sitting in front of him on the verge of tears was just an audience. Like the words that he was spewing weren't actually going to change their lives. "There are always other methods, like we can attempt to impregnate you through in vitro methods, however those are typically not covered by insurance companies and it is rather expensive." He looked into the doctors eyes and tried to find anything, any sign of remorse or sorrow or any indication that the man in the white coat sitting in front of them was human. He never understood how another person could look someone in the eye and tell them they'll never have children and that they should give up on their dreams because they probably don't make enough money, or look into a camera and read lines on how a young person was shot and murdered for the cash in his wallet. How could they say these words without emotion? We're they dead inside?
"Do you guys understand what I'm saying?" The doctor wanted to make sure that they understood that it was hopeless.
"Yeah, we get it. We'll never have kids." Mitchell stood up and pulled Aria to her feet. "Thank you doctor." He shook his hand and walked out of the room. Aria's face turned red as she fought her own emotions. That was one of the hardest things for them to go through. All of it ended up worth it less than a month later. That Thursday he got home from work and went through his normal ritual. He took off his button up shirt and hung it next to the door. He placed his case down by the door and walked into the living room. The couch sitting in front of him took the blunt end of his bad day as he fell forward into the inviting cushions.
"Mitchell, is that you?" Aria yelled from around the corner.
"Who else would it be?" His voice was muffled by tan cushion.
"Could you come here please?"
He shoved himself off the couch and stumbled to his feet. "Where are you?"
"I'm in the bathroom, come here!" Her voice had a sense of urgency.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He walked sluggishly to the bathroom and leaned against the door frame. Aria was sitting on the counter by the sink. "What is so important that I had to get up off the amazing couch to come in here?"
She held out a small white stick. "I'm pregnant!" Those words were the last thing that Mitchell expected. On the list of sentences he expected, "I'm pregnant" was just above "I want a divorce".
"I'm sorry, what was that?" He raised an eye brow at her.
"I am Pregnant!!" She shouted and jumped into Mitchell, connecting with an incredibly tight hug.
"Oh yeah? Who's the father?" He tried to make a joke through his anxiety. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster as the seconds passed.
"The mailman, who else?" She returned his sarcastic comment. He held her as tightly as he could. That exact moment was the single greatest moment of his life. After a number of doctor visits, after several nights of comforting his wife, telling her that one day it would work, it did. After being told that it was essentially his fault and that they would never have children, they defeated the odds and were able get pregnant. That feeling was ripped from his hand because of the infection that ripped and ravaged its way through the population of the city. That joy that he felt every day he woke up next to Aria, the bounce in his step every time he thought up names for his potential son or daughter, the smile that was plastered on his face every time he saw her glowing and rubbing her stomach. All of it was ripped from his hands in only a few moments.
For a moment, he and Darren met eyes. He felt the fear that Darren was displaying, he felt the agony of thinking that, within a second, his daughter could possibly cease to exist. He looked back at Lilly and then over to Kayla. She had the same look as Darren. For that moment, he knew what they felt. He looked up at Denver as his psychotic screaming turned to a silent smile. Mitchell knew what was next and he had no intention of letting them feel what he was feeling. He wasn't about to let Denver rip the last remaining light out from under them.
Chapter 13 – Warranted
Mitchell could feel the adrenaline pooling in his veins. The chemical reaction was causing his heart to pound faster and faster. He felt as if his blood pressure was increasing and within a few seconds one of his arteries was going to burst and explode outward. His face grew warm and his hands grew cold. All of this was the anxiety building from the situation and what he was about to do. His vision began to darken, as if to vignette the sight of Denver pointing his gun at a five-year-old’s head with his psychotic smile. This man was not the man that Mitchell had met in the grocery store. This man wasn't even the man that he heard on his way home from work every weeknight. No, that man was dead. This was Denver Grant, the man that had gone insane. The shell was the same, but the contents were different. Mitchell took a deep breath in and closed his eyes for a second. He took in the silence, he absorbed the situation.
He reopened his eyes and threw himself forward as hard as he could. He threw all of his weight onto Denver and slammed into him with as much force as he could muster. When the two contacted, Denver fell backwards and Mitchell ended up on top of him. Denver attempted to turn his arm towards Mitchell to defend himself, but the gun fell out of his hand as he fell towards the floor. Denver attempted to keep his balance as he plummeted, but Mitchell forced him down. He ended up on top of Denver on all fours. He pulled his right hand back and slammed a solid fist against Denver's face. He pulled back and repeated this motion two more times. Denver barely moved after the third strike. Mitchell's breath was heavy and had a growl every time he exhaled. He stood up and grabbed his pistol off the table. He put his foot on Denver's throat
and pointed the barrel directly at Denver. Denver put his hands on Mitchell’s foot, attempting to pull it off, but it didn't happen. He looked up and first made visual contact with the gun, then eye contact with Mitchell. The two focused on each other for several moments, the remainder of the group remained seated.
"Pl... please. Please, don't kill me." Denver could barely speak, his pleading was falling on deaf ears.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't put you out of your misery." Mitchell's aggressive look indicated that he was done with Denver and rightfully so.
"Mitchell..." Darren stood up behind Mitchell. He turned and looked; he didn't expect Darren to stop him from doing this. Darren motioned in the direction of Lilly, which made a little more sense. He turned his head and looked at her. She was staring directly at the event in front of her with her head pressed tightly against Kayla's chest. Mitchell glared back down at Denver. He was still struggling to catch his breath. Mitchell pulled his foot from the man's throat. He grabbed the shotgun off the table and handed it to Darren. Denver remained on the floor, but was obviously fully conscious.