Copyright (c) 2022 Revised Edition by Unus Vocate.
INTO THE FIRE
It was a harsh, bitter Wind that blew against him as he approached the Brownstone Apartment Building where his Prey was hiding. It was Christmas Time but the Holiday Spirit was not apparent in this section of the Bronx and Mars felt cold and very much alone as he walked along the snow covered sidewalk.
He had not always felt like this.
There was a time when he had known the blessing of a full, rich, life and he could appreciate even the most simple pleasures of this World. The sound of laughter, a warm smile, the sight of children running and playing, Church Bells ringing on a Sunday Morn, all of the happiness and pomp of a Wedding Ceremony, the look of contentment on a Mothers' face as she cradles her born child.
But now that had changed.
There were too many scars upon his Soul to permit for any Feelings of Tender Sentiment. No longer connected to other people; without the Binding Influence of Affection to guide his actions; he felt isolated and far removed from the rest of our Society. As the Winter Wind raged against him, and its icy fingers probed down inside of his great coat, he felt totally separated from the concerns of our Community. Even when surrounded by millions of people -- he felt alone. 131
Coming up to the Brownstone, he pounded hard upon its front door, and it was a handsome young man who came to answer the noisy summons.
(An Attractive Fellow, no doubt some people might even describe him as being a "Pretty Boy."
A person in his early teens, someone who had only just recently reached his full Adult Stature, he was almost like a beautiful Flower that was blooming in the first tentative blush of Spring. Filled with all of the Hope and Vitality of a New Life, and untouched by the cold embrace of Winters Frost.
Innocent.)
As soon as he cracked the door open and peeked out, Mars raised up a Derringer and shot him thru the heart.
"Touche'
And Farewell To Innocence."
In only a moment the young man was killed and his Innocence taken from him. Now totally Educated to the Ways of the World; now that everything that might have been in his Future had been taken from him by a Angry Shout of Gun Fire; he fell back into the Hallway Entrance as the Life spilled from his body.
"So be it." said Mars as he kicked thru the Safety Latch and entered the building.
Dropping the Derringer and letting the heavy great coat fall to the floor, he is standing there like a modern day, American Samurai; dressed in a suit of Full Combat Body Armor, with two handguns on his belt, and a massive 44 Magnum neatly tucked away in a shoulder holster. 132
He has come to pay a visit on a renegade Drug Lord by the name of Carlos Marx. Just to have a brief tete-a-tete with the man.
Marx was hold up in the Dining Room of the building, a room he had fortified and made into his own private Inner Sanctum.
Determined to gain entrance to this sheltered place, Mars drew the over-sized Magnum from his shoulder holster, and began firing against the passive solidarity of its wooden door. The explosive blasts from the powerful handgun were trapped, and amplified, in the enclosed confinement of the Hallway till it seemed like the whole building was shaking with each new detonation.
"Destroy! Destroy!" The gun shouted out as its resonance filled the air. Till there's no one left standing and it has all been laid to waste --"Destroy!"
After the gun had spoken; stating its message so loud, so clear, and so undeniable: he dropped the empty weapon and waited for a reply.
There was only ... Silence.
("Come On! Do Something!" Mars thought as he waited for a Reaction. "What are you waiting for? -- Unleash the Fury!")
Not getting a response from Marx or his men, he approached their Hiding Place, pushed his way thru the shattered remnants of its wooden door, and entered the room -- with his hands held up high above his head.
The men inside were amazed!
The audacity of his approach held them spellbound!
Walking to the center of the room, right into the middle of those who wanted to kill him; all of them staring at him with eyes so hard and filled with Anger; and ignoring their hostility, bid them Seasons Greetings,
"Merry Christmas"
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He said as he looked around the room for the culprit Marx. Fear struck, and cowardly, he had been hiding behind a Sofa while the bullets were flying but now that the shooting had stopped and his Assailant had apparently surrendered ... his courage returned and he pushed his way forward to come and stand before Mars.
Daring to confront him!
In a heart beat --
Mars drew both of his guns and fired at the mans' neck. A 9 Millimeter bullet drilled a neat round hole thru the Jugular Vein on the right side of his throat; the blood squirted out of the holes like water rushing out of a punctured garden hose. While at the same time, a shot from his 357 tore a nasty gaping wound thru the guys' neck on the left side, ripping thru the flesh as if were only some unworthy discard that deserved to be destroyed.
As the blood gushed out of the holes in his neck, pouring down over his body and splashing on the men standing next to him; Marx raised his hands up to his neck to try and stop the bleeding.
For one awful, still born, moment there was complete silence in the room as the men waited to see what Marx would do next. Then, as he collapsed to the floor, a riot of gun shots broke loose to fill the room.
Not thinking about what they were doing, the men all began firing at once -- striking Mars and hitting his protective Body Armor -- but also shooting directly at each other!
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As the Volume of the Room filled up with Gun Fire and Smoke (obscuring their normal vision and bringing a world of twisted, distorted Images into Being); Mars added to the confusion by walking among them, firing his Pistols, Point Blank, against their bodies.
It was Chaos --
Caught up in the Turmoil of Raw Emotions that now ruled their actions, the men started shooting at anything, and everything, that seemed to be threatening. The Ceiling Fan, the T.V., the Floor Lamps, the Flashes of Fire coming out from their Gun Barrels, and finally -- at each other -- as they tried to Quell the Violence that had been set loose against them.
The Air seemed filled with Bullets.
Sounds of Shooting filled the room while the Screams of the Wounded Tore at their Ears. Blood splattered high in the air and collected in pools on the floor while the wild shooting continued. The men were trapped within the confines of their own Sanctuary -- unable to run away -- unable to escape from the Death that walked among them.
There was no need to look beyond this place for Hell.
No need to ponder its Existence nor to wonder what it was like, for it was here. Screaming, bleeding, clouded with Gun Smoke, ringing with the sounds of explosions; locked within this little room; tearing at itself; self consuming, self demeaning; in the Blood, the Smell, and the Flames -- it was here!
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In the swirling Clouds of Gun Smoke that now filled the room, Mars imagined he saw a familiar figure standing before him. "Susan?" He cried in disbelief. She was here, in the middle of all this carnage, standing there amidst the gun smoke clouds -- she was here!
"You have come back to me!"
"I have never left you." She spoke softly, the tone of her voice sounding so sweet, so soothing to his ears.
"What? I was so lonely without you."
"I have never left you. I've been by your side all along, only waiting for you to see me." She paused as she looked him in the eyes. "Come to me Ted, just come to me now and we can be together again."
While he is distracted by Susans' image, one of the wounded men took advantage of the situation to carefully aim and fire at Mars.
The Assailant ... smiled ... as his shot found its mark and a high speed, hollow point, bullet made its rude acquaintance with Mars' right cheek. Both sides of his face came apart in a maze of blood, flesh and shattered white splinters of teeth; as the shot made its tortured passage thru his face. While he staggered and started to go down, another round slapped against his cheek, just slightly above where the first one had hit. Again he knew the open contempt of Anger striking his face as he endured this second brutal Insult.
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Falling to his knees, he struggled to remain in control of himself as he felt the Pain surging thru his body. The pain was like an electric shock that kept tearing thru all of his senses and screaming in his brain. Crying out in anguish, he forced himself to continue -- to try and cope with the physical torment that was now threatening to take his life.
"Think!
Think What Must Be Done! Don't Panic! Don't Lose Control!
Get Air! Hold Your Head Forward! Let The Blood Drain From Your Face!
-- Breathe! --Breathe!"
"Ted!" Susan cried out to him. He lifted up his head and saw her standing there, just beyond his reach.
"Come to me now, and we can leave this World of Suffering behind."
"i... cann...newt." He whispered.
"Dear One, you have loved the Universe and worshipped it as the Body of God. Come with me now and, together, we will live again as a part of its Soul. There in the Vast Deepness of Space we can witness a million Stars and Galaxies exploding in beautiful Colors, and wondrous Patterns of Energy all around us. And we can be there to welcome each new Birth of Life with all of the pride and affection of a Parents Love.
So come to me --come to me now!
Our Spiritual Lives are just beginning and we have all of Forever before us; to spend Loving Each Other and Exploring All the Wonders of Existence. You need only to take my hand and it will be ours."
She raised her hand up and held it out towards him.
"Yes!" He cried in desperation. "Yes!" 137
As he lifted up his hand and tried to touch her, a stray bullet struck him in the throat, just missing the collar bone as it plunged down into his chest. The heavy lead slug forced its way thru the softness of his body; tearing thru his lungs, destroying all of the vital Organs in its path, working itself deep inside him until it finally came to rest within his Groin. Without a sound, knocked senseless by the pain, reeling thru the Waves of Sensitivity that racked his body, with the blood pouring out from his wounds; he fell to collapse, face down, against the floor.
In the instant of the bullets impact, Susans' image was taken from him, and the destruction of his world was complete. There could be no more dreams, no hope --Nothing! -- just a giant meaningless Nothing filled with Suffering and Pain.
Defeat and Despair held sway over all.
In a rage, he crawled among the bodies on the floor, hitting the men with his fists, cursing them, shouting out his anger, crying, incoherent and without purpose until ... he happened to come across a Thompson sub-machine gun that was laying, half buried beneath a wounded man. Pulling the gun out, he dragged it with him as he crawled over to a near by chair. There was something else that had to be done. One more thing to do in this God Forsaken World and nothing, not even Death, could stop him.
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Getting to the chair, he crawled up its side and using it as a brace, cradled the gun in his arms while he squeezed the trigger and began firing --
"Susan! Susan!"
From out of the Depths of Agony that was his Soul, again and again, he screamed out her name while the Thompson reaped its harvest of the men.
The Shooting, the Flames, the Smoke, the Spilled Blood; all circled around him, embracing him, inviting him to revel in an Orgy of Destruction; as the hate filled Passion grew like an ever expanding Cloud that would smother them all with its oppressive Violence.
Finally, the gun was empty, the Fury -- Spent!, and he could fire no more.
In the Void left behind, in the absolute Stillness and Silence that now filled the room, his strength left him and he fell down against the chair that had supported him. In the complete weariness of Life's Exhaustion; with each breath an effort and each heart beat a struggle; he sat on the floor with his legs folded under him and his arm resting on the old, time worn, wooden chair.
As the Police Sirens wailed in the background; coming closer, ever closer; their crying animal sound a belated acknowledgement of the desperate struggle that had occurred within this humble building; he felt his body growing heavy and cold with the spreading numbness of Death.
And he was afraid. 139
When, at last, it was his time to come face to face with Death, to stare at the features so gaunt and uncaring, he found to his surprise ... he was afraid and he did not want to die.
A raw, naked Fear came welling up from deep inside him. He wanted to run away, escape, to get away from the danger and -- be with Susan again! Maybe they could find some place, some little corner of the world, where they could always be together, and, and ... but she was gone? And they would be Free!
"Susan!" He cried out for her. "Susan -- Help Me!"
There was no response. The room was quiet, and still; and he was left completely ... Alone. An intense Sense of Abandonment fell over him as he accepted his Fate. There was nothing left for him now, no one, and nothing in this world, that could ever again give meaning to his life. It was finished. There was no reason to continue. He felt himself simply "letting go." And his mind; which was now struggling to function with his loss of blood and an oxygen deprived sense of perception; interpreted his psychological plunge to be the sensation of falling.
He dreamed he was Falling.
Falling from the tall buildings of the City, rushing madly down towards the concrete and the cars below, then making --Impact!-- and smashing thru the solidarity of the Earth. To emerge out into the vast empty Blackness of the Cosmic Void. To once again find himself falling, moving ever deeper into the waiting Abyss of an Eternal Night.
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With a start, he broke away from the sensation of falling, and fought to regain consciousness as he willed himself to return to the Realm of the Living.
Once more, he was at the scene of his last battle. The smell of blood was strong in his nostrils. The bodies of the Dead covered the floor. The darkness of the room was pressing in on him, holding him in place, smothering him.
He was cold, so very cold.
He could not see, the images of the room were all blurred. In despair, he forced his eyes to focus. The last thing he saw was the pattern of the wood grain in the chair he was leaning on. Its pattern was straight and narrow, with several small nicks in it, testifying to the chairs long life and usefulness.
"Susan." He whispered with his dying breath. And then it was over. The Peace of Death was upon him. 141
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