The car’s wipers were automatically activated when the first patters of rain speckled the windscreen and this pneumatic noise thrust me back in reality, back into my mission. For the past few weeks I had been tracking Chase’s movements meticulously and I knew, like always that this Tuesday evening, he would be taking his dog for a walk through the park and back to his flat. Today however, he would not complete his walk. I had been breathing relatively heavily and the car’s windows had steamed up creating a shield between me and the outside world. As not to draw attention to my self, I cautiously rolled down the window an inch. A bone chilling breeze swept through the car and I could feel every hair on my body stand on edge. If it were not for Chase’s existence then I would probably be out to dinner with my wife or reading a bed time story with Kimberley, it was he who was driving me to what I would to achieve.
Abruptly the light beaming out of Chase’s apartment was extinguished signalling his anticipated exit. My heart began pumping blood around my body ferociously and my legs were shaking as if I were in an epileptic fit. I dived into my bottomless jacket pocket and produced a flask of whisky of which I promptly took a hefty swig in order to ease the tension which was coiling around my body. I could hear the howl of his dog loudening as it weaved its way down the stairs and this only furthered my anxiety. The door swung open with a defiant creak and I held my breath for what seemed like an eternity, wanting to become invisible. Chase was soon calmly sauntering down the deserted street, caught up in his own entity and this only furthered my rage. Why should he be allowed to live when all he has caused me is pain and desolation? With the utmost caution I squeezed open the door handle, slid out of my car seat, darted into the shadows and swiftly stalked my target as a hunter would its prey. Glancing up, I could see the man who had taken my life and ripped it to shreds. Soon he would taste my pure and bitter loathing and understand why he does not deserve to live.
The previous patter of rain was by now a deluge reaching its crescendo and I could hear Chase splutter and curse through the rain. At the moment he had nothing to worry about but soon that would all change. Waterfalls and cascades were shooting out from drainage pipes creating a quite spectacular seen; it also created a rather impressive concealment. Approaching the woods, I delved into my inside pocket and scoured for the instrument which would bring integrity and honesty to our society. The chilliness of the handgun came as a shock to me and seemed to send a static bolt of electricity through my arm, yet still I gripped it firmly. All the emotions of the past months came flooding back to me, pent up anger needing to be released: I could end this now, I could avenge my wife and daughter. The adrenaline was gripping me like a hurricane would do to a car and I felt like I might explode in a rage of ferocity and fury. Did he feel remorse? Does he have a heart? No. If he did then he would not have driven on pretending that nothing had happened, he would have pulled over and phoned an ambulance. Those vital minutes could have saved them. Shuddering with calm apprehension, I loaded two bullets into the gun, just to make sure and levelled the weapon.
The rain stopped.
We both halted, he marvelling at the weather, myself at my river like tears that soon formed streams as they surged down my cheeks. His life was in my hands. With fire in my eyes and ice in my veins I bellowed, “Why?” His face, as he turned round, was full of surprise. After the ordeal he had put me though, did he not recognise me? The scales of justice of which I was so carefully perched on collapsed and my finger crushed the trigger in one fell swoop.
Throughout the wood, the gunshot rang out causing flocks of birds to flee with haste, however I failed to take notice of it; all I could feel were the months of abhorrent anger and fury unwinding in my mind. I glanced over to where the pathetic and petrified Chase lay quivering. Now he knew who I was. Now he knew what he had done to me. As his shuddering eyes opened and closed, thick dark blood gushed from the remnants of his stomach and the stench consumed the forest. He would die in a matter of minutes but first I needed answers to the questions which had been plaguing my mind for months. Calmly, I walked towards Chase until I was nearly on top of him so that he was able to see the flames glinting in my eyes.
“Why,” I repeated this time in a contained manner however the response I was given would appal me.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he spat incoherently through his splutters of blood, “it wasn’t me.”
By now the fire in my eyes had turned into a roaring inferno. Lies. All lies. Mesmerized, the gun slid from my hand onto the floor as I knelt down. Our eyes met and I could see the panic consuming his wretched existence. I raised my hands and placed them violently on his neck. My grip became tighter and tighter, his complexion redder and redder and swiftly, his once taunt body became limp and flopped to the ground. Chase was dead, my family posthumously avenged. With gun in hand, I raised my shivering self from off the ground however by now reality had set in. What I had been living for, over the past half year was now lying on the bloodied floor dead. I would most certainly be convicted of the killing of Chase after what I had rightfully done. I had been fooling myself thinking that I would allow myself to live when what I wanted more than anything else was to join Sarah and Kimberly. I stared down at the once bitterly cold gun which was now warm with the fresh blood of Chase and raised it up to my head. My moistened palm began to shudder like a violent earthquake, the once tight grip I had held the gun in evaporated. My eyes closed and I pulled the trigger.
The dog was whining yet again. I felt like having a night in front of the TV but it wouldn’t be fair on him. I picked up my almost ancient raincoat and placed it over my shoulder anticipating the forecasted storm. I headed towards the exit holding the lead of my now joyful terrier and turned of the lights. God, I would make sure that when I returned I would write that letter about the safety of the staircase to the owner of the flats. I barged open that rusty old door and promptly shoved on my jacket. George was loving it; pattering up and down the puddles. Well it was about time he had a bath. The woods were approaching and looked ominous due to the water which was steaming down the branches. God dam the blighted English weather. I had decided long a go that as soon as I had retired I would be on the next flight to Spain to soak up the long lost sun. In bitter resentment I glanced up to the sky yet at that moment the rain stopped.
Unexpectedly, I heard a sudden wail from behind me and I swirled around full of surprise yet what I saw before shocked me even more. A man was holding a handgun levelled at my chest. The warmth of the bullet came as a shock to me and within seconds I was on the floor writhing in agony. I now knew who it was. It could only be him. My vision was a blur yet I could still see him approaching me and kneeling by my side. I tried to speak to him; to tell him the truth which he so painfully desired. I attempted to open my mouth but the pain allowed me only a few words. I had longed to explain to him for months, that it was not me who had caused him such agony. It was not me who had been driving the damned car which had killed his family. It was my son. I did what any devoted and loving father would have done and took the blame on my shoulders. After being stopped by the police I had lied and said that it had been myself who had been driving and that I was drunk. The police had been fooled and since I had pleaded guilty I was given a mere 6 months suspended sentence; a pittance of what I should have received.
However, as I was lying on the ground, blood suffocating my lungs I was unable to tell him this, to show that I was not a murderer. My eyes closed and I slipped into unconsciousness as I felt the warmth of his hands close up around neck.
