"Jack"
“I don't think I could take 'em?”
Jack thought as he stared at the closed circuit camera monitor. He had just
installed it last month and at relatively low cost. His frugality was a point
of pride for Jack and he felt bitter sweet about that now as he watched
criminals rummaging through his living room.
Jack
sat huddled in his secret safe room built in the upstairs of his three floored
house. Three black men in oversized hoodies strode through his home after
kicking in the back door. They were filling their pockets with small valuables,
rummaging through drawers and opening cabinets in the hope of finding a big
score.
Jack waited. He could see all throughout the
house on his computer and that fact made him feel more in control. A false
sense of safety dripped into Jack mind as he warned himself not to get over confident. Jack
thought very deep about his next move.
“I could call the police.” Jack said audibly
to the empty room. “Or, I can take the shotgun out of the gun safe and deal
with them myself.” The truth of that last statement made Jack's already present
adrenaline rush spike. The violence of that idea pounded through Jacks mind, He
recalled conversations with his neighbor Dave of gun control and the second
amendment. They were both proud men and
proud gun owners. Jack's reasoning for owning guns was justified almost solely in
the thought of finding himself in just this sort of predicament.
Jack made up his mind. Picking up
the phone in the small room he dialed 911. It was pleasantly
surreal to Jack as he had only ever dialed 911 once before. When he was a boy
he came upon a smoke in a wooded area by his house. His mom was not home so he did the only thing that he knew to do.
The thought now however, echoing in
Jack’s mind was, “I have two options. I am not a boy anymore I am a man and I
want this.”
If Jack had more time and was more
relaxed his thoughts would have drifted to the state of his heart. How did he
become a man who wants the violent end to his intruders? How did he change
so? When he was a teenager he was proud
of the fact that he didn’t need revenge. He could forgive bullies and genuinely
did not want to see them come to harm unlike his friends did at school. Jack was a bit different in that sense and he
contributed that to his Christian upbringing. Themes of forgiveness and mercy
filled his teenage mind as his dad delivered sermons in the small Baptist
church where he grew up. He loved listening to his dad preach. His dad was not
too strict, at home with Jack, but not
too lenient either. Jack’s dad was proud of the way he turned out to be. That
was until he died when Jack was 21. Jack’s father was visiting an inmate at the
local state prison when an escape attempt took place and he was caught up in
the action. He was taken as a hostage and in the end was stabbed in the kidney
and chest multiple times. The prisoner was given an extra life sentence but to
Jack that was far from justice. Jacks ideas of mercy and forgiveness began to
warp after that dark time in his life. Thoughts of the prisoner getting
attacked by other inmates in various senarios used to fill his mind and
sometimes still did. He used to reprimand the fantasies. Jack would remember
how his dad would teach out of Proverbs at the dinner table He made Jack
memorize Proverbs 1:16 “My son, do not
walk in the way of the fool, nor be like them for their feet run to evil. And
they make haste to shed blood.”
Justice was a farce to Jack now. There
was no real justice anymore. So much of that life was now missing and the man
Jack had become was a far cry to the hopeful youth he had been. Jack sometimes
thought fondly of that past life. He reasoned however, that as a man he must
put childish ideas away. The world is not a pretty place. It is indeed quite
grim.
However, the idea of the two
options echoed in his mind. Get the police here or deal with the problem
myself. “This is my house.” Jack thought finally. “I’m going to take matters
into my own hands.”
“911 what’s your emergency?” The
pleasant female voice on the other end of the phone asked him.
With a click Jack hung up the
phone.
Jack watched the monitor a moment
longer formulating a strategy. On the screen Jack saw that one of the thieves
was picking up a wooden box, ornately carved off his fireplace mantle. The box,
small and beautiful was very special to Jack. His father had carved it himself
and inside the box lived two gold rings one was his highschool class ring that
his parents had gifted him one year for his birthday. The other ring was his
dad’s wedding ring. He had never seen him without it on and the ring was as
much a part of his dad’s body as any other fond feature. Jack had been the one
to decide not to have him buried with it in the hopes that it may make a nice
keepsake to remember him by. Now that keepsake was being molested by the
thieving hands of a low life greedy criminal.
Jack stood up. Without a thought he
walked over to the door and unbolted it. As quietly as possible he slowly
opened the door and seeing no one he walked down the hallway to his
bedroom. Jack was thankful that he was
wearing slippers as they muffled his footsteps when as he stepped across the
hardwood floor of the hallway. Jack found the bedroom door opened slightly. He
tried to remember if he had opened it or if the intruders did. He was mad at
himself for not taking longer to look at the monitors and see where the intruders
were. He thought of going back and then
decided to get it all over with as quickly as possible.
He flashed his head inside the room
and seeing no one he moved the door aside and entered. He walked across to his
gun safe in the closet. And recalling the combination spun the dial to the
correct numbers. With a soft click the safe swung open. Jack grabbed the
largest gun in the safe a twelve gage shotgun. Reaching up on the shelf he
grabbed a handful of shells. In his haste a few went tumbling to the floor and
Jack suddenly became painfully aware of the sound they made. Jack squatted down
and hurriedly recovered the dropped shells and began loading his gun. After
putting several in the weapon he stood up.
As he walked toward the bedroom
door His mind became hazy and he was almost dizzy as the thought of what he was
doing hit him hard. He noticed how shallow he was breathing and made himself
focus. “If I am going to do this I am going to do it right.” He thought to
himself. And swallowing his fear he focused himself. He was suddenly much more
confident. He was the one with the gun. He was the one with the power. And as
he began walking down the stairs he slowly cocked his gun chambering a shell.
He made a beeline for the first
floor living room determination in his blue steel eyes. As he walked down the
stairs he was dead quiet. He walked past the second floor down into the first
floor near the front door. As he past the front door to the house he thought of
how quickly he could leave, flee, leave it all behind and it would all be over.
A longing to be safe swelled up in Jack but, he knew this was just the fear
talking. He steeled himself and setting one foot in front of the other he crept
towards the living room where his target was last seen on the monitor. As he
did so another feeling crept inside Jacks heart a desire for power, control. He
had to do this. He was perfectly justified. This was his house, his stuff and
he will rightfully kill to defend it, or so he thought.
Jack looked and listened. The
living room was empty and a noise of clanking drawers came from somewhere far
off. Jack peered around the corner into the kitchen. He saw the backdoor with
the trim hanging off the sliding lock on the door from where it had been kicked
in. And to his eerie delight saw the thief looking through cabinets in the
kitchen his back towards Jack and Jacks gun.
Without thinking of what he was
doing Jack lifted the shot gun and leveled it at the thieves back. Pulling the
trigger Jack in this surreal moment heard no noise. As the thief fell Jack was
suddenly aware of the mess he had made. Blood was all over his nice countertop
and was pooling underneath the criminals body as he lay motionless on the
kitchen floor.
“What did you do?’ yelled a voice
from the stairway?
Jack looked over and seeing another intruder
leveled the gun at him. Jack walked over to him and barked “Get on the ground.”
The thief did so. He was a young man probably eighteen Jack thought.
“Sit on the couch.” Jack yelled. “This is my house! You shouldn’t be here!” The
thief moved through the living room and sat down. Jack looked around for the
phone. His heart was racing. The emotions of anger and fear were pouring
through him like water. A tumult was rising and he knew he had to relax if he
was going to remain in control of the situation.
Seeing the phone on the coffee
table Jack reached for it with his right hand while holding the shotgun by the
grip upright with his left. As Jack began to dial 911 again he was suddenly
doubled over. The force of the bullets ripping through Jacks chest made him
fall behind the coffee table. Feeling nothing but panic Jack tried to get up.
He couldn’t. As he floundered he caught sight of a figure on the stairway. The
man on the couch realized his chance to escape jumped up and ran towards the
door.
“Run, Donnie!” The thief said to
the figure on the stairs. The two ran out with a blur.
Jack stayed bent over on the floor.
His mind was weighing his options. Finish dialing 911, or crawl out the door
and yell for help. His hand reached for the phone. As he began to dial Jack
felt his life spilling out onto the white wool carpet around him. He knew he
wouldn’t have time to wait for the ambulance.
He put the phone to his ear.
“911 what’s your emer….”
As the last of his life left him,
Jack suddenly had a very clear thought. He was a kid again at his dining room
table. Everything about the vision was so right; Items in their correct place
as if he never left the childhood home that he loved. His dad was seated at the
head of the table with a Bible in front of him he was reading to Jack out of
that familiar book.
“My son, do not walk in the way of
the fool, nor be like them for their feet run to evil. And they make haste to
shed blood.”