Unprepared Page 12

  “They didn’t want to trade,” he said, ushering David and Kelly into the bowels of the mall, gesturing with his pistol.

  The three set off into the dimly lit shopping mall, the pungent smell of excrement hanging in the cold air.

  “What’s your name?” Kelly asked, trying to form an artificial bond, in the hope it might help insure their safe passage.

  “To you, I’m God,” he answered arrogantly. “I giveth and I taketh away.”

  Loathing his obnoxious arrogance, Kelly tried to win him over with literal praise.

  “Thank you again for your grace,” she said, earnestly.

  She noticed David’s eyes on her. She knew exactly what he was thinking, but thought it best to ignore his glance, lest their chaperone figured out that she was hamming it up to placate him. If they survived the day, they’d laugh about it later.

  They walked past what used to be a cafe they both enjoyed visiting. On many occasions they’d sit there, watching the world go by, cappuccinos in hand, after watching a movie. Now, the chairs were knocked over and the counter, once full of cakes and muffins, was dark and empty. David and Kelly weren’t typical mall people, but they liked this mall. It was their mall. At least it used to be.

  Eventually they approached a clothing store on the other side of the mall, near the far entrance. It was one of those predictable clothing stores, catering to ‘tweenagers’. The kind of store which played generic electronic beats through its speakers and had absurdly thin, anorexic mannequins out front, as if Auschwitz prisoners were somehow teleported into modern clothes and forced to stand in this shop’s front window in unnatural poses. Such stores preyed upon the insecurities of Instagram-obsessed girls, taking their idiot parents’ money in the process. This meant that when Kelly and David saw this store with its windows smashed, its bright lights turned off and its sickly mannequins thrown into a pile, it offered a guilty sense of satisfaction.

  “Hey, CJ,” the face called out.

  “Yo,” a voice from inside responded.

  “It’s me. Got a couple of traders here. They’re just passing through.”

  “'Aight,” came the reply from somewhere inside the virtual concentration camp.

  Empty clothing racks and upturned tables from a nearby cafe formed a maze-like barricade inside the former clothing store, with a figure soon appearing in front of them.

  “Where you two headin’?” the figure said, standing up from behind his barricade. He was a big guy, solidly built, maybe about 40 years old.

  “North of here, about a mile or so,” David replied. “Going to get a gun.”

  “I’ve got their gun back in the store,” said their self-appointed god.

  “Insurance,” he added.

  “You two ain’t gonna last five seconds out there without a gun,” the big guy said, almost playfully, showing his own weapon, an impressive-looking handgun, but one with less precision than a toddler in the NBA.

  “Yeah, well, your friend took our gun,” Kelly replied, becoming agitated.

  Their self-appointed god laughed.

  “I’m going back to my store. You guys better come back with my booze if you want your gun and your stuff back. You know where to find me.”

  God turned around and walked back through his kingdom, leaving David and Kelly alone with this new threat.

  “So you wanna trade something?” the man asked Kelly.

  “Your friend took it all. We’ve got nothing to offer you. We're just leaving.”

  They just wanted to get out of that mall, even if it meant taking a chance with death outside in the increasing morning light. Besides, they were probably about halfway to Trevon’s house. They could run like mad and hope for the best.

  “You should come back here behind the barricade and wait till tonight, when its dark. It’s safer. I’ll protect you.”

  David interjected.

  “We’re fine. But thank you. We’d better get going. Come on, Kel.”

  “I wasn’t talkin’ to you,” CJ said to David, his voice firm.

  Kelly and David looked at each other, ready to run to the mall exit, but before they could act on the urge, CJ lifted his gun in their direction, his faux amiability replaced with coldness.

  “Hey, girl. Come here.”

  She stood still, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind, while David felt every hair on his head stand on end. With the gun aimed at them, they couldn’t be sure of escape without one of them dying right then and there, in a shit-smelling mall, at the hand of an immoral psycho.

  “Girl. I said come here.”

  Kelly looked at David, both standing in the doorway to this former clothing store. They mimicked each others' facial expressions, which were both pure fear. Not fear of death - at least, not yet - but fear of something else. Something that might warrant suicide. Thoughts now raced through David’s mind, making him light-headed. He would fight for his wife, but what could he do now, standing alongside her with no weapon, and a barricade between him and the fucking asshole with the gun? He could do nothing. He couldn’t believe this was real. Surely it wasn’t.

  “I ain’t gonna ask you again. Move your ass. Get in here now, bitch.”

  Kelly turned back to David, whose eyes were beginning to water. This wasn't real, he thought. He shook his head gently, staring at his wife. They were a calm and rational couple, but this kind of situation was well out of their control. Five seconds passed and the man appeared at the front of the store, gun pointed straight at Kelly.

  “I’mma need her,” said the man, pushing Kelly into the doorway and into the store. “Chill, man. I ain’t gonna hurt her.”

  “Please don’t,” David begged, pointlessly. His eyes were watering as the love of his life was led around the side of the barricade, where they managed to make eye contact one last time. With tears in her eyes, Kelly mouthed the words, “It’s OK” to David, but they both knew it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

  It was dark at the back of the store, behind the second barricade, but Kelly could make out the body of a girl. She was dead, with dark bruises on her neck, and naked from the waist down. She looked in her mid teens. Kelly felt dizzy, wanting to throw up.

  “Pants off,” instructed CJ.

  Kelly hesitated, resulting in the man placing the hard and narrow barrel of the pistol against her temple.

  “Kelly,” David cried out, choking tears. “I love you!”

  This caused Kelly to cry herself, but CJ wasn’t there to console. With his left hand he grabbed Kelly’s left breast and squeezed it harshly, emitting an animalistic grunt.

  “Take your fucking pants off or I’ll finish you, like her,” he said, nodding to the bluish, half naked corpse lying a few feet to their right.

  Kelly had to make a choice between uncertain life and certain death.

  Kelly complied.

  Dear reader,

  Life is not like a Hollywood movie. Sometimes terrible things happen to good people through no fault of their own.

  Life is often greatly unfair, with all of us being mistreated at the hands of others at some point in our lives.

  The death of a loved one, rape, infidelity and betrayal cause pain in a way that physical damage cannot. Such terrible misfortunes leave permanent bruises on the soul, destroying those affected from deep within.

  It’s not fair and it shouldn’t happen.

  But it does.

  In the dark of the store, the corpse of a girl lying alongside, Kelly pulled her jeans and her underwear down to her knees. It was a difficult task as her hands were trembling, but she managed. Was this the same fear the girl next to her had felt? It was hard to imagine as her face looked so peaceful in the cold embrace of death.

  With her body exposed from the waist down, Kelly was instructed to lie on the floor, which she did, while sobbing tears of both fear and anger. The floor was cold on her buttocks as she sat, then lay on her back. The faster she did this, the faster he would finish, and the faster she could leav
e. She imagined herself running away. Running as fast as her legs would take her. Running forever.

  Placing the pistol under his arm to free up his hands, the man undid his pants and and underwear, his erection protruding. Somehow this entire scenario seemed to stimulate the man further. Kelly didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense to her how someone could be sexually aroused through sheer power and control. It was disgusting.

  There was nothing romantic about this next scene; completely different to the intimacy Kelly had shared with David. With Kelly on the ground, the man got to his knees and climbed on top of her, holding her wrists with his hands, his penis aiming toward her. With penetration inevitable, Kelly made the decision that she would not just submit. She would rather die than let this beast inside her.

  With a fierce, angry scream, she threw her knee up as hard as she could, crushing the testicles hovering inches above her thighs. This stunned the attempted rapist just long enough for him to loosen one of her arms from his grip, allowing her to grab her pepper spray. She pressed down hard on the top of the small canister in her hand, releasing a jet of its contents into his eyes and mouth. The man was still frozen in shock from the knee to his balls two seconds earlier, but he soon gasped for breath, inhaling a lungful of pepper spray. Spurred on by the scream, David found himself unthinkingly climbing over the barricades between them, not fearing death, only wanting to protect his partner. The rapist was in agony, coughing in pain, but he was also a strong man. He and Kelly both fumbled for the gun which had fallen to the ground somewhere beside them. He had the advantage of strength, but Kelly had the advantage of eyesight.

  “David!” she screamed, as she pushed the gun away with her hand, the rapist still on top of her, his fading erection serving as a metaphor for this particular sexual conquest.

  The rapist let go of her wriggling arms in order to squeeze her throat.

  David was now over the barricade and scrambling towards them on his hands and knees.

  “Gun!” Kelly gasped, sounding like Gollum.

  David couldn’t see it. He scrambled his hands across the surface of the floor and looked around in a panic while Kelly hit the coughing attacker’s head fruitlessly with her free arm. It was pointless. He was too strong.

  The shape of the gun caught David's frantic glances, spotting its silhouette on the floor between bottles of alcohol and boxes of medicine. He fell forward to grab it, Kelly now unable to talk as the air was squeezed from her very being. David clawed at the pistol and spun around, clambering to his feet, kicking the man in the head as hard as he could.

  “Get off her!”

  Why didn’t he just shoot him? Either way, the rapist saw the gun and froze. The rapist decided that this was not worth dying for.

  “Get off her now!”

  The wheezing attacker paused for half a second, then let go of Kelly’s neck, allowing her to gasp heavily for air. In the darkness David could see the man's eyes were wet and his nose was dripping with snot, caused by the capsaicin in the pepper spray. His gaze was fixed firmly on David, Kelly still squashed beneath his weight.

  “Shoot him!” Kelly gasped.

  But David didn’t fire. If this were a movie, he’d probably say something heroic and pull the trigger, but this wasn’t a movie. He’d never killed a person before. He didn't know what to do.

  In the stand-off, the bigger picture began to form in his mind. There was no police force any more. No more laws. This beast before him just tried to rape his wife. He was the law, now. He was the judge, jury and executioner. David's adrenaline-fueled mindlessness was quickly replaced with cold, vicious anger.

  He pulled the trigger. Again and again and again; dry thunderclaps emanating from the handgun, blood splattering from the man's chest. The force of bullet after bullet slashed through his torso, ripping up his organs. The impact of each piece of lead pushed the rapist off his victim and onto the floor. His half-naked body flopped backward about as he struggled, gurgling blood. David shot him again. The bastard. “How dare he!” he thought. He fired the gun once again. And once more.

  “Stop!” Kelly called out.

  David’s teeth were clenched hard, his mouth slightly open. He’d become an ape in human clothes, a lust for killing spread across his face. He had just killed a man and it felt good. Fucking good. Silence descended into the cold, concrete store.

  “It’s over,” Kelly said, kicking the rapist’s dead legs off her own. “It's over. Thank you, David. Thank you.”

  She was panting, and covered in blood, her eyes watering from both emotion and pepper spray which had misted down onto her own face. She started to hastily pull up her pants.

  “We’ve gotta go. Right now,” she said.

  Reality hit David, snapping him from his primal mindset. They climbed to their feet and began to run around the double barricades and out of the shop, turning towards the mall exit near them, but then David grabbed Kelly, freezing them both in their footsteps.

  “We have to go back the way we came,” David said. “It’s suicide going out this way.”

  He darted his eyes around, aware that at any moment, ‘God’ would probably appear to cast judgment.

  “Here,” David said, pointing to the cell phone repair booth in the middle of the mall concourse.

  He grabbed Kelly’s hand and pulled her towards it, climbing over the counter of the rectangular booth.

  “Come on! Hide!” he said.

  Kelly clambered over behind him.

  Breathing heavily, they huddled on the floor in the corner of the booth. With a shaking hand, David put his index finger to his lips, pleading for silence. They tried to control their breathing and waited.

  Sure enough, moments later they heard footsteps. The footsteps were fast, then they’d stop. Then they’d hear running again, followed by silence. God was darting from entrance way to entrance way, tactically pausing in each one for safety, getting closer one store at a time.

  “CJ?” he called out, sounding like he was now three or four stores away.

  Another brief spurt of fast footsteps were heard, followed by silence. The footsteps were closer now, but they were quieter. God was on full alert.

  Kelly and David, breathing through their open mouths, stared vacantly at each other, waiting for God.

  Sitting with his knees to his chest, David grasped the gun in his hand and a sudden feeling of dread ran through his mind.

  “How many bullets are in this thing?” he wondered. He didn’t know. The footsteps were very close now.

  “CJ!”

  That time it sounded like he was standing right next to them. The most deafening silence followed for ten, perhaps fifteen seconds, before they heard quick footsteps again, going right past their heads. Acting on impulse, David tightened his chest and raised his torso above the counter, aiming the gun at the back of their self-appointed god, just ten feet away.

  He squeezed the trigger.

  One shot rang out, followed by nothing. The impressive-looking TEC-22 pistol had jammed in his hands. He ducked down next to Kelly, their faces locked in fear.

  The dry crack of a gunshot was replaced with deafening silence. Kelly looked at David and he looked back at her. He knew what she was wondering. The truth is, he didn’t know if he’d hit him or not. Was god lying dead on the ground, ten feet from them? Did he miss and god was now waiting there, his gun aimed back in their direction? It was a stand-off.

  Approximately ten or fifteen minutes had passed since he had fired the gun. He was too scared to try and unjam the pistol due to the noise it would make, giving away their location to the man who called himself god.

  It wasn’t until they had sat in that booth, in the middle of the shit-scented mall’s main thoroughfare for almost twenty minutes, that David came up with an idea. It was risky, but it was worth trying.

  David quietly removed one of his shoes and gave it to Kelly to throw out of the booth in the opposite direction, away from the clothing store where she had escap
ed rape and death. This would serve as a distraction long enough for David to jump up, surprising god, demanding that he dropped his weapon. They had to try it. How much longer were they to wait if they didn’t?

  David prepared himself mentally, jammed gun in hand, while Kelly raised the shoe over her shoulder, ready to hurl it with all her might.

  David looked at his wife and mouthed, “Ready?” to her. Kelly nodded.

  Using only the shape of his mouth, he mimed the words, “One.... two… three!”

  Kelly threw the shoe away from the booth and against a door frame 40 feet away, while David jumped up, gun in his hands in the direction they'd last seen god.

  “Drop your gun! Drop it and I won’t shoo-”

  David stopped and exhaled, his blank expression morphing into a weak, open-mouthed smile.

  ‘Kel. I got him.”

  She rose up next to her husband and looked at where his jammed gun was pointing. Richard Dawkins was right. God was indeed dead.

  Kelly refused to go back into the clothing store for understandable reasons, so David went in there alone, grabbing eight bottles of Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whiskey from CJ’s stash and stuffing them into two large plastic shopping bags. Kelly, meanwhile had taken the handgun off their now-deceased god and checked his pockets. By chance, his wallet was in his left pocket and Kelly couldn’t help but find out the true identity of god.

  “Dave. Did you know god’s real name is Ronald Douglas?”

  David laughed from inside the former clothing store.

  “That sounds like the lovechild of Ronald McDonald and Michael Douglas,” he shouted.

  Kelly laughed for the first time in quite a while. It felt good.

  “I was thinking, we should go get our backpack and see what goodies Ronnie has stashed away back in the sporting goods store.”