That’s what heroes do¹

They say I looked like a rag doll, twisting and spinning through the air, bending in ways no human being should or could. They say the sight of my body in front of the blossom of fire was mortifying and yet they couldn’t drag their eyes away from it. I was told how painful the impact looked when my body slammed into the outside wall of the cafe.

I don’t remember any of it really. I remember the walk; Gail and I were exploring the shops for the first time. That was why we were there. I remember how her hand felt in mine, so warm and comforting. I miss that feeling more then anything. I remember the happiness we felt together. I’ll never forget that. I remember the force against my back and the feeling of acceleration, of being out of control, the surreal motion of flight. I remember the absolute blue of the sky, cloudless and perfect and the absolute silence that filled my ears. How could something this terrible happen on such a beautiful day?

When I woke up two days later in the hospital the doctor told me what had happened. A black Buick had pulled into the intersection as Gail and I had walked around the corner into the same intersection. There had been a large crowd of shoppers in the area. The driver had triggered the explosive device and the car exploded outward. It had leveled the crowd, debris and wreckage mowing people down like grass. The doctor explained he had been a block away and had run towards the explosion when he heard it. The scene was terrible he said, few of the people there were still alive, and those were slipping quickly into death. They had worked for hours moving people in packed ambulances to hospitals where surgeons worked feverishly to save lives. Much of it had been in vain. The pain on his face made it hard to listen to what he was saying. The unexplained hollow feeling in my heart made it harder.

Gail. Where is Gail? The question took all my strength to vocalize. Fear and adrenaline filled my system, as he looked away, his jaw tightening and relaxing systematically. She was gone. I knew it before the words left his mouth for the long journey to the very core of my soul. No. How? Why? I choked. Tears coursed down my face as my body clenched inwards looking for safety, for peace, for comfort, for anything. She was my soul. How could I live without my soul? Rage, fear, guilt, confusion and dismay swirled inside me like flames in a fire. Who. Who had done this? Through my sobs I asked it, the question that brought clarity to my mind and focused my pain. Who did this?

The doctor tried to explain that no one really knew. The actual human, if you could call them that, had been killed along with the hundreds of people at the scene. Killed like Gail. No! Not like Gail. Nothing like her. He, it, whatever it may have been was the opposite of Gail. I hoped it would burn eternally somewhere.

It was a miracle they told me. It was a miracle I could walk, a miracle I was alive. A miracle. To me it was a curse. I didn’t want to be normal. I wanted to be dead. It took me three months to leave the hospital. I wished they had let me die there. I didn’t want to leave. The day they told me I was leaving I hated them. Please, I told them, I want to stay here. Here it’s still not real. Oh Gail! Why did they let you go and force me to stay? What am I supposed to do now? The thought of our house empty, and the empty bed that awaited me, filled me with fear. The fear brought the anger back. The anger made me wish I were dead. I couldn’t live like this. I didn’t want to live like this.

I walked slowly towards the exit, two guards beside me. I didn’t understand why they were there at first. Then I saw the mob outside. Cameras flashed, people shouted questions to me. Ugh. Leave me alone. I just wanted to disappear. Inside I looked for a corner for my tattered soul to hide in away from all these people. The guards forced the reporters and mikes out of my face and walked me to a waiting police car. I climbed in and the driver gunned the throttle and pulled away from the teeming mob. I was abandoned. Alone. Lost.

The driver tried to strike up conversation, something about the weather or baseball or something equally generic. I ignored him. I didn’t care. When the car pulled up to the house it was too much. He came around to the back to me out. My teeth hurt as my jaw clenched and unclenched involuntarily fighting to keep my emotions under control. The sun was setting blood red behind the house as I walked slowly towards the door, fumbling for the keys in my pants pocket. I wanted to run away. I paused on the porch and looked at the wilted plants, their heads drooping under the weight of gravity. I was drooping too. If only some water would help prop up the weight I felt inside.

The lock slid inside the door, and my shoulder pressed the door open. I stumbled through the opening and turned my back on the large wedding photo that stared at me from the wall. The ridges of the door pressed into my face. Tears traced down the door and splashed on the tiles below. I can’t go on! My knees stopped my descent to the ground. How had this happened to us? No. We were so young. No. NO! I rolled to my back and wished the world would just go away. That when I opened my eyes it would all have been a dream.

Moonlight streamed through the skylight giving the room a haunted look. I wished it were haunted. Then it wouldn’t feel so empty. My legs ached as I moved to stand. My foot tingled from the odd angle it had been in. Stumbling down the hall I found my way to the living room. Without a thought my hand found the switch and I collapsed over the back of the couch as light filled the room. Why did you leave me?

Memories of our wedding swirled around me. She had been so beautiful. So perfect. I had been so scared. I pressed myself as far into the back of the couch as I could, the pillows swallowing me. I woke so many times that night that I can’t really remember sleeping at all. My mind kept playing the few seconds I could remember back again and again. Her hand in mine. Our hands ripped apart by some force beyond my control. I imagined I looked into her eyes for a moment, for an instant. The feeling of oneness holding us together somehow against the wrath of the fire. Over and over again it played. I could see the grinning demonic face of the, it, just before the black Buick exploded. My scream woke me up the most. I would shake and tremble and try to understand and then slip sobbing back into darkness.

The alarm clock in the bedroom woke me and I dragged myself down the hall to make it shut up. Not a dream. Not a horrible nightmare. I stood staring into the mirror for a long time. I was hollow. You could see it. My eyes dark and dead.

When the doorbell rang I almost hid in the hall closet. Instead I crept to the door and flung it open, half hoping whoever it was would shoot me. The man in the Hawaiian shirt that greeted me was not what I had hoped, or expected. No gun in my face. No government badge. Just a heavy looking bald guy in a loud Hawaiian shirt with baggy shorts and a pair of flip-flops.

“Go away,” I said as I turned to slam the door in his face. He couldn’t help me.

“Ok. But you are gonna have to come with me,” he said as his hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist.

“I said go away,” I said my hand jerking away from his grasp. I swung the door to close it. It wouldn’t close. Hawaiian shirt guy had placed his foot in the doorframe. I felt the rage returning. “Look. Move your foot and get away from my house. Now.”

“After I talk to you sure. Until then, well its not gonna happen. So lets either take a walk or step inside. Your choice.”

You can’t be serious! Why couldn’t he have a gun and just shoot me or something? My fist lashed out at this intruder. His block only made me madder. I threw the door open and lunged at him. I didn’t know who he was but I was going to share some of my pain with him. His quickness surprised me and I found myself walking back into my home with his strong arms controlling me. No way! I struggled but every time I moved it hurt more. Ok we can talk.

He moved my quickly to the living room and dumped me on the couch. My wrist hurt from his rough treatment. I had had enough of this. As he walked towards the easy chair opposite me I scanned the room for a weapon. There has to be something. Anything I can use to rid my home of this violent new comer. I jumped up and launched the lamp off the end table at him. It hit the end of its cord and shattered half way between us. He spun and looked up into my fire filled eyes as I launched myself at him. It felt good to move fast. He continued his spin and I flew past him unable to make contact with my flailing arms. His hand found my collar and shoved me to the ground. The impact hurt and that just made me madder.

I drove myself back up and searched the room for the man in the Hawaiian shirt. He was in the air now and his arms encircled my head and his weight drove me to the ground. His rough hands found my neck. They tightened around my throat and I fought to breathe. I fought to lift him off. I fought to fight. I could hear him snickering as I struggled. I trashed around. His hands continued to tighten. I had to do something. Anything! Blackness faded over my mind like the end of a movie. Gail is that you?

“You really only have one choice.”

What? Huh? Who is that? My eyes opened. I tried to rub them but my hands wouldn’t budge from the back of the chair. I could feel the duct tape holding them there. I fought against it. Where am I?

“Can you hear me? I said you really only have one choice.”

That voice again. I knew that voice. “What are you talking about?”

“Well it goes like this. We are going to help you get back at the people who killed your wife. We know where they are and we will get you there. We’ll make sure you have what you need to kill them. You just get to disappear. Vanish. Make a life somewhere new.”

Revenge? My anger about the tape vanished. That thing had had friends? A family? No. Things don’t have family. The thought of it suffering, feeling lost, that felt sweet. Wait. It’s dead. Gone. Blown away in a million pieces on the wind. Gone like Gail. No. But revenge. Maybe. Revenge. So what do I need to do?

“You need to go buy a gun. Then you are going to buy a plane ticket. We’ll let you know where once you have the gun. We’ll show you how to get the gun through the airport and into the country where you are headed. It’s easy. We’ll tell you where they are and then the rest is up to you. Be a hero. Get your revenge. That’s what heroes do.”

Ok. Lets do this. Revenge!

The plane touched down and hopped once before settling onto the ground for good. The rush of the wind and the engines filled my ears as the plane strained against its own momentum. It had been a calm flight. Well calm as far as turbulence had been concerned. I was anything but calm. I fidgeted. I couldn’t get comfortable. It had taken me months to get to this point. The lights came on and the fasten seat belt sign turned off. I rose and walked with the rest of the passengers off the plane and into the airport. It was louder and busier then I had thought. People ran everywhere. Children screamed and mothers screamed back. Cell pones rang and voices crackled over the intercom addressing the hordes of passengers awaiting flights. I walked briskly towards the baggage claim.

Get my bag, get a car. It took forever for the bags to come down the chute and perform their dance around the belt. I grabbed mine and moved away from the crowd. The rental area was a short walk away and I could see the company they had made the reservation with.

I tossed my bag in the passenger seat and turned to the controls. The key slid into the ignition and the engine came to life. I watched as the navigation screen turned on. Ok so far so good. No problems in the airport with my bag. Now I just follow the navigation system. I scanned through the list of previous destinations. Ten. I counted down to the seventh one and my finger pressed the screen. The blue bar moved slowly across the screen calculating my route. I reached inside my jacket and pulled out the picture of Gail. Tears welled up in my eyes and I kissed it and put it back. Soon. Not too much longer.

The destination was a decent looking hotel. Better then a cheap motel but not honeymoon material. My room had a good view of the river and the city spreading around it. It was all here just like it was supposed to be. The map taped to the underside of the desk drawer. The photos taped under the base of the television. I laid them out on the bed and started un-packing. I lifted the large camera bag out of my suitcase and opened it. I pulled out the large zoom lens and pulled the two halves apart. The barrel was there. Good. Everything is ready. I put it back in the bag and finished putting my clothes away. I took out the picture of Gail and placed it on the nightstand. Revenge.

I lay there that night memorizing the pictures of the two men I was here to kill. I rolled over and opened the drawer to put the pictures inside. I dropped them in and noticed the worn bible that was there. How many people have opened it? How long had it lay there? My hands touched the cover. It felt lighter then I thought it should. I turned it over again and again. I sat up and flipped it open to see what lay in side. Nothing. Just text. Just… my eyes were caught by the word vengeance. Vengeance? I was here for vengeance. Vengeance is mine. I certainly hoped it would be. And peace. Peace of mind would be nice. It would be good to sleep through a night without being haunted by the nightmare of that day so many months ago. I closed the book and set it back inside the drawer. I flicked out the light and dropped into sleep.

No peace for me. None. The dreams came again. They had a new twist though. I saw a man running from the car before it exploded. I saw his face. It was one of the two men I had seen in the pictures. I could see Gail screaming as I flew away and the pieces of the car tore through her body. It was terrible.

I grabbed the camera bag and walked out to the car. Its navigation screen greeted me again and I picked the third previous destination. That was the one. The drive there is a blur. I remember parking in the alley behind the worn out warehouse and climbing the fire escape to its roof. The cold metal bit into my ungloved hands. The sun was rising gently above the river behind me. Its light spreading warmth and happiness. I could hear the distant sounds of civilization waking up in the morning. I walked to the edge of the roof and sat down, removing the barrel and parts from their camera shells. I assembled it quickly. My hands knew what to do. I had practiced this a thousand times before. Barrel to action. Action and barrel to stock. Scope to barrel. While my hands worked I watched the apartments across the field from me.

I could see people moving inside. Lights were coming on one by one. I counted the windows up from the bottom. One, two, three floors. Then from the right. One, two, three, four, unfold the stock, five, six, seven, unpack the bipod, eight, nine. I attached the rifle to the bipod and looked through the scope. No movement yet. I double-checked my count. That’s the one. I set the bipod on the edge of the roof and got comfortable. I watched the window waiting for someone to move.

Movement. I watched as the man, the man from my nightmare, dropped to his knees and begin to pray. Pray? I hadn’t prayed in years. I watched him. You killed my wife. I wished I could be there to stand over him. To tell him of my pain. To choke the life out of his body. My finger tightened on the trigger. It would only take a second. Less then a second. He, it, that thing, didn’t deserve such a clean death. It should suffer. I brought the crosshairs down on his head. Focused them in on his temple. My breath came smooth and long. Vengeance is mine. Vengeance is. The words I had read came slamming back into my mind. Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. I squeezed the trigger a little harder. Almost time. The sun broke over the edge of the roof I sat on. Its light filled the room where the man prayed. I will repay. Tears clouded my vision as the vision of Gail from my dream filled my mind. She was so beautiful. Her face seemed so at peace. Peace? How? She was being torn apart? She was dying. But peace.

I wiped my eyes and looked back through the scope. The crosshairs again came to rest on the man’s head. He begin to rise. Now. My finger tightened. I let it slide off the side of the trigger. My body pushed me to my feet. I picked up the bag and repacked it with the rifle.

“Police what is your emergency?”

“I need to report a terrorist cell.”

“You’re kidding right? Who is this? Where are you?”

“I’m not and it doesn’t matter. They are working out of apartment 333 at Main and Parliament near the old docks. They are armed but they are in the middle of fixing breakfast right now. It’s a good time to take them down.”

“We are sending a unit right now. Where are you?”

“Send a couple. These guys are tough. They don’t mind killing.”

“Are you in a safe place? How do you know…”

I closed my cell phone and watched the light of the rising sun bath the field. I could here distant sirens screaming towards the apartments. I finished packing my equipment, stood and walked away. I walked off into the rising sun.