Sitting around the Breen livingroom in Wichita, sipping Jack Daniels, the Kid, Bookout and L.D. caught up on the recent past. "Working for the Postal service is a good job," L.D. commented, "at least it has retirement benefits."
The Kid knew L.D. was truly thinking of his wife and their new born daughter, Sara. L.D. was willing to do whatever it took to secure their future. He had proven himself a dedicated family man.
"I think there's money to be made in California," Gene Bookout declared. "I've been thinking about heading out that way and seeing what I can do. A smart man can get in and get out without being caught.
Bookout was pretty bright, thought the Kid, but was he bright enough not to get himself killed?
The Kid himself had just arrived in Wichita two hours before. His had been the wanderer's way, floating from town to town, doin' just enough to get by. These two here were service buddies, from the not too distant past.
"That reminds me, I need to ask you guys a favor," said Bookout. "I have a meeting tonight with some of these local guys about some money they think I owe them. It was actually a friend of mine that bought the coke, but he's left town without paying them and since I referred him to them......"
L.D. looked the Kid dead in the eyes, they both knew the consequences of messing with the 'local' boys. Bookout had his arse in a real bind and was, in his own way, askin' for help.
"You could just skip town," L.D. stated.
Bookout glanced up, "Yeah, but they'd find me sooner or later."
"Why not make an arrangement to pay them off?" asked the Kid.
"We've discussed that," Bookout replied,"they want the money.....now."
The seriousness of the situtation coldly grasp them all. They were discussing life and death without actually bringing it up. If ever a friend was needed, now was the time.
"What do you propose?" the Kid asked.
"Well," Bookout was hestitant, not really sure how to say it,"I'd like you two to come along. Not out in the open where they can really tell you're with me, but maybe aside....in the shadows."
"Do we need weapons?" L.D. inquired.
"Might not be a bad idea," Bookout said, almost apologetically.
L. D. got up, swallowing down the last of his JD on the rocks and went out the side kitchen door. Within three minutes he was back, holding in his hands two Colt 45 semi-automatics. Standard military issue, in fact that's where he'd "procured" them from. Being the ex-supply/armory NCO had allowed for a few chosen items to mysteriously disappear from the company supply log.
"This one's for you, Kid", he calmly stated, as if this had all happened before. "The magazines loaded, I just put fresh rounds in."
The Kid hefted the gun in his hand. It had been awhile since he'd felt the weight of a fully loaded pistol. Last time had been on the range, where he'd just missed qualifying 'Expert' by two points. It felt cold and yet warm at the same time, as if it was meant to fit there in his palm and yet not. He tucked it into his pants at the belt line, grip hanging just over the belt. The cold steel on his abdomen sent a chill down his leg.
"When's the meetin'?" Kid asked.
"I'm suppose to be at the club in an hour." responded Bookout. "If you two would just set in the shadows across the parking lot...there's some good cover there with the bushes and all. It REALLY should be okay, I think I can talk to them." Bookout's normally calm stature had become noticably unsettled. He began glancing back and forth, as if pleading for help but not wanting to outright ask. He didn't really believe a word he was saying. The possibilty of 'the final trip' could be seen in his face.
"What are friends for?" said the Kid. "If you can't count on your friends to back you, why have them?"
His words didn't really describe how he felt. He'd never pulled a gun on anyone before. He'd never truly thought about the actual 'shooting' of someone. Sure, he'd acted the part many times in his mind, where the good guy (aka Him) triumps. But this was real. He could actually kill somebody. Or worse yet, somebody could actually kill him!
"One more round!" declared L.D. as he poured new drinks, "Then we'll head on over and scope the layout."
Forty five minutes later, huddled next to the outskirts of the parking lot, the three compadres felt an abnormal chill to the air.
"Be right back," Bookout stated with immense bravado. As he walked toward the doorway, 100 feet away, his outline in the night faded in and out within the shadows of the building. Nothing was "clear", the darkness of the night had made any shapes look intimidating.
The Kid and L.D. could see Bookout approach the doorway, stopping just long enough to open his jacket and show the two "suits" at the door he wasn't carrying. Little did anyone know, Gene had a helper up his sleeve.
No more than two minutes had gone by when three shots rang out. Bookout, running with a pistol again firing in his hand, came flying out of the doorway he had just entered. Both "suits" were hot on his heels, pistols trying to line up on their target.
Just as they seemed to be drawing a bead, the Kid and L.D. stood up from their hidden positions and presented cover fire.
The Kid had drawn dead center on the "suit" to the right, popping off six rounds, in three round bursts. The "suit" on the left headed quickly for the dirt. The one on the right seemed to stop in midstride, arms flying outward, then fell backward against the side of the building.
Everything happened so quickly! Bookout was flying past L.D. and the Kid yelling, "Run for it!!"
As they scrambled through the darkness on a path no one knew, a dead silence clasp the night. Now and then a twig snapped, a bush crushed or a heel scrapped asphalt as they ran toward the sanctuary of L.D.'s home, one and a half miles away.
Sitting again in the Breen livingroom, L.D. shakingly poured fresh drinks. They had made it back in less than 10 minutes. A helicopter could be heard overhead. They knew it was the police chopper. They also knew they had gotten away with it, for now.
"What the hell happened?" the Kid gasped.
Bookout looked at them both, trying to form the words in his mind. His eyes blazed with the fury of a fire that had just tasted kindling. "I shot him."
No more questions were asked. These three had spent two years time together in the service. Obviously Bookout had planned this to end just the way it had. Not wanting to admit they hadn't really seen it coming, L.D. and the Kid said nothing more.
But the truth about Gene Bookout was now clear. He was not the type of 'friend' either of them could afford to have. He had jeopardized them and L.D.'s family, without any thought other than his own welfare.
By 5AM the next morning, L.D. had arranged a ride to take the Kid up Chicago way. "You best not come back for awhile," he said,"who knows what will happen now."
The Kid gave L.D. a brotherly hug, knowing that last nights excursion would leave a lasting impression on both him and his friend, "Stay in touch, aye?"
"Sure," L.D. managed a smirk of a smile,"Gene's probably halfway to California by now."
As the Kid rode silently north, with a person driving he'd never even previously met, his thoughts went over what had just happened.
Had he actually shot someone?
Had L.D. been firing at the same guy?
Who's shots had hit him?
Would this guy die?
Did he have a family?
How the hell had he gotten involved in all of this anyway?
The adrenaline running through his mind and body would keep him awake for the next two days........
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