Black

A Story by Zachary Reaves

Why is it always about a love story where the hero must overcome some huge obstacle or personal problem to gain what is needed in order to find the one he loves? What happens if the love dies and the only motive in the story is revenge? Why is the ending

gun·sling·er (g n sl ng r) n.

One who is armed with guns, seeker of peace and knowledge.

Another day in the life.

My life had been taken from me when the head lines title screamed “Lucius Slade, Killer!” This isn’t what I was when I “earned” it; and it’s who I am now. I was kind once, I had a family once, and I had a life once. That’s all gone. Now, I am an avenger; all that’s left, revenge. Sounds kind of hokey, I know, but truth be told I never was one to say the smartest things at the right time. It wasn’t always this black and white either, there had been a time when I would have laid it all on the line just to insure that someone’s life would be better; and yes my wife and daughter loved me for it. One thing is for sure though. Those sons of b*****s are goanna need a whole lot of bullets.

I did run a pretty clean town though, even if the roads were made of dirt, and being just one of four deputies in the little town of Arlen felt pretty good. The people were nice and friendly, I had loving wife, and there wasn’t anyone out to lynch me anymore. The criminals weren’t even that rowdy; I hadn’t used my guns in a long, long time. At that point in my life I had finally hit the days of prosperity, and I liked the fact that even though I had viewed the law as a foe in the past, I was the law in that town and it suites me just fine. My weapons of choice were my twin revolvers of murky steel; one hung low on my left hip and the other was holstered under my left arm. Hell with my past I thought it was a kind of poetic justice that my weapons had the same look as my soul. Half of me in plain view the other hidden. Like I said I’m not really one to say things that sound good. That had been all over since some new people came to town and started causing a ruckus. I became so busy that my wife and I drifted apart. My poor daughter didn’t even know why Becky and I were fighting. The thing that brings me the most pain about losing her is that I could have saved her if I had just listened to what she was saying.

“Lucius, we’re running low on money and food, please go to the Bank before work,” She asked, “that way when you get home we can buy one wi’t’other.”

“I would,” I said, “but I’ve got to be at work soon. I just don’t have time today; you should go today that way we can have dinner as soon as I step through the door. I’ll make it up to you Baby I promise.” I said this even though at that point I had more than an hour to get work. All of this could have been prevented had I just done what she wanted...

Later that day an urgent message came in summoning me to the bank where hold up was taking place. It didn’t even occur to me that she might still be there. Once I had arrived at the bank the robber had sent notice that he wanted someone to come in and talk to him about a hostage exchange for a horse and carriage as well as a clear route out of town. I got volunteered to go in; often time’s quickest draw means the shortest straw. Suffice it to say, if he tried something I would take care of him quickly.

As I entered the bank I heard a voice from my left telling me to take my side arm out, put it on the ground, and slide it across the floor. So I took the gun out of my belt and set it on the wooden surface, I left my gun belt on hoping he didn’t tell me to take it off too. I had a second gun on me so I would need ammo if anything went tits up. As I walked through the bank I absorbed the surroundings taking note that the hostages were spaced all around the room and the man with gun was in the center waiting for me arms crossed, foot tapping.

“’Bout damn time you get here, wat’d you do crawl to the door. Any way I have a list of all the things I want.” As he said this I glanced behind me and noticed that the voice that had told me to slide my gun was not a robber at all but in fact a hostage sitting on the floor wrapped in a Mexican style serape. He wore a black cowboy hat low over his face and I couldn’t tell who he was or if he was armed or not. “Hey you rat,” exclaimed the robber in an almost too hurried voice, “you look at me when I’m talkin’ to you or yer death’ll be quicker than a rat’ller snachin’ a rat so it will, I’m betting you wouldn’t want that if you have a wife and kid to go home to.”

Laugh all you want I thought, there is no way your getting out of this alive. The inflection in his voice was odd, and something was off about the whole situation. ‘So’ I calculated ‘he doesn’t want me to look around. Either that or the man was slightly stupid. I wouldn’t be surprised if was, you didn’t try to rob anything in my town without being slow in the head. If he was trying to hide something I might have seen….’ I did a quick once over of the room and looked everyone in the face not paying attention to who they were but wither or not I could see there eyes.

“So,” I questioned, “why are you hiding that guy in the corner what’s his game?” The robbers’ reaction to my statement was deplorable being as he begun to fire on the nearest batch of hostages. “What are you doing?! Stop it!” I screamed like it made a difference he was too quick of a shot and the explosions from the barrel sounded almost as though they were one shot. He didn’t hear me scream he just kept pulling the trigger and I couldn’t pull my gun in time to make a difference, once it was over his gun was empty and all except two hostages were dead. I glanced at their faces and saw for the first time who they were, the mayor of the town and my wife. As it finally dawned on me who was there with me I found renewed strength and to all witnesses it seemed as though my hand didn’t move but suddenly there was a gun in it (hammer pulled, ready to fire) and the hands finger pulling the trigger. BLAM! Exploded the gun and the man flew and as the pools of blood splattered thunderously to the floor, a blood curdling scream equal to the monstrous sound of that mans gun came from my wife telling me to “LOOK OUT!” Just then I became aware of a presence behind me and as I whirled to see him, I came eye to eye with a revolver; my revolver and the wielder was none other than the man in the black hat.

“Drop it son, we both know that there is no way to win not with me holding the gun like this, and yours pointing down. Just be so kind as to empty it of ammunition and put it on the floor”, I undid the hammer and sprang the cartridges from their holder, setting it down easy, and then I was defenseless. Poor Becky would probably have to see me die but that man in the damned black hat will die with me that’s for sure.

There was no time to think though, the man turned the gun on my wife and in an instant her head exploded. Her death, the death of my wife, so complete that I couldn’t help but scream. At that instant I had no thoughts further than the boiling terror and need to be next to her. I forgot about the shooter, the threat he posed I only cared about being next to her. As I rushed to her side though, that same eerie presence came up behind me again and CRACK! While I was falling to the floor I heard a scream for help, the thought that there might have been a witness that had seen it all happen relieved me. The man in the black hat wouldn’t make it out of this alive unlike so many of the people that were dead in that bank. As my eyes roll to whites I think “Pity I couldn’t save them, I would have gladly exchanged my life for theirs. I just don’t think it was a fair deal for them.”

My thoughts of revenge the black hat

Most people don’t live life on the edge. They go about their lives protecting what meager possessions they have. That type of people uses others ruthlessly, trying to soak every little drop of decency from the people who live life trying to make things better. These personality types clash most often with each other.

I tried to make things better for every one around me, the man in the black hat, (whose name was later revealed to be Warren), used people to get ahead in life. The one thing in life that I’ve learned is that life is only fair in children’s stories. Somehow he managed to get the people of the town to believe that I killed the people in the bank. He made himself into a hero while I was publicly humiliated. I was soaked up and hung out to dry like yesterdays laundry. Too bad I couldn’t defend myself against their accusations; I would have set them straight. The judge and jury were rigged, they would have had have been not to see through the wafer thin lie of the supposed witness that “saw” me beating my wife, assaulting my daughter, he even said that I shot at him a couple of times when he tried to reason with me. The sack of s**t will be the first to die, I promise you that.

Slowly as time passes I find myself wondering whither my daughter is ok. I haven’t heard a word about her in two years and for each day passing that I’m in here these bars seem to get thinner and thinner. I’ll break my self out and when I do, the public will here my name and remember the things I did; more assuredly though they’ll know for certain the things I didn’t do.

I here from the newsboy down the street that the man that killed all those people and pinned it on me is running for mayor. Supposedly he wears nothing but white any more. Guess that he’s slowly becoming this towns new golden boy. I used to be a criminal so it’s not a wonder that the people of the town were so quick to distrust and abandon me. I think I’ll pay them back on their betrayal for anyone who tries to stop me they’ll get a bullet in they’re gut. Believe me when I say it I’ll be wearing the black hat this time.

My revenge will be sweet.