A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 52

Sonny Ray had heard the metallic click of the large and ominous firearm. Everyone to be sure, must have expected a loud explosion, and flames from the end of the long barrel of death.
Instead, a small pop was distinctly heard as a small white flag extended slowly from the end of the barrel. The word ‘bang’ was printed on both sides of the flag; along with large exclamation points. Everyone who witnessed it was momentarily stunned. Especially Bob. He stood there, with the pistol still extended out away from his body. He slowly lowered the weapon.

Sonny Ray boyishly began to smile.

Dwayne approached Sonny Ray with a melange of anxiety, and relief on his face.
They had pulled it off.
It was over.
The media, having been left high and dry by the Mayor of Antelope Springs, ended up being at the right place at the right time. The flash of many cameras continued, blinding Bob momentarily.
All the major networks had filmed the entire incident.
Several Navajo Policeman approached Bob, weapons drawn, as Bob who stood swaying in a drunken haze, offered little resistance as the rookie cop removed the fraudulent .357 handgun from Bob’s grasp. Bob continued to stare at Sonny Ray.

Bob though was not quite ready to quit. In a MacGyver like moment, Bob slipped a coin from his pocket, and threw it down in the general direction of Dwayne and his three friends. It began to roll, and arrested the attention of everyone.

Bob bent down slightly pulling his pant leg up over his right cowboy boot. His smallish hand found the .38 caliber pistol.

After shoving the rookie cop, Bob stood erect with renewed vigor. He charged the indigenous foursome hell bent on killing them all.

He lurched forward pulling the trigger. The sound of the weapon in this setting,

stunned the onlookers.

Bob continued to pull the trigger. Six times he pulled the trigger. Small flames from the end of the barrel could be seen, the smell of gunpowder heavy in the air.

Nothing.

Sonny Ray and his friends had instinctively crouched, and scattered when they saw the second pistol. The commotion was unsettling.

Bob stood in shocked silence. “How, did you, you,” was all the former cop could manage.

Greg, Nadia’s cousin had crossed paths with Bob earlier in the day. With the assistance of a couple of police officers, Bob had slipped into the service elevator of City Hall in order to go undetected. He descended to the basement and was not challenged as he obtained access to the Antelope Springs Records Department. Bob was looking for police files he had been named in.

Greg was the Records Clerk, and had received a call thirty minutes prior, with instructions by the desk Sargeant that he was going to have a visitor to the Records Department.

He was instructed to fully cooperate, and keep quiet about the visitor.

When he saw Bob, Greg figured he was there to remove incriminating evidence. Greg insisted though that before he would allow Bob to look at any files he would first have to check his weapons at the door.

Bob thought nothing of it as he wanted to get what he wanted, and get the hell out of there. “Hold this chief, Bob said sarcastically as he brushed by Greg.

While Bob was hurriedly looking for files, Greg had taken the pistol to his desk. Greg sat down at his desk, and continued to watch Bob as he quietly unloaded the hollow point rounds of the .38 police revolver. He replaced them with blanks. He then put the pistol on top of his desk, and waited. After ten minutes or so Bob walked the narrow hall where Greg sat waiting. Bob had a stack of files in hand. “I’ll need you to sign for those,” Greg stated, ignoring his standing orders.

Without a word Bob approached Greg. He reached for his pistol. After opening the cylinder Bob glanced at the weapon to ensure all six rounds were there. After closing the cylinder Bob pointed the pistol at Greg. Greg didn’t move an inch as Bob had placed the barrel of the weapon against his forehead. “Where did you want me to sign you filthy native scum?” Greg said nothing as Bob lowered his pistol. After putting it back in the holster he adjusted his pant leg. He glared murderously at Greg before turning to leave.

Greg now stood at the press conference next to his cousin Nadia. Dwayne looked at Greg. “How did you know about the .38 in his boot?” Dwayne asked Greg. “I overheard through the thin blue line network that Bob was going to try and hijack the files of those he had assaulted over the past several years,” Greg exclaimed.

“Everyone in the Antelope Springs Police Department knew Bob carried an unregistered pistol, including me,” Greg said with a smile. Bob stood a short distance away with his head lowered, silent and alone.

The young indigenous rookie policeman, not accustomed to the Jack Ruby like performance, regained his composure placing Bob under arrest.

The media continued to encircle Bob, microphones poking at his face like phallic symbols. Bob was guaranteed atleast a half hour of short lived fame, opposed to the standard fifteen minutes. He had earned it with that performance.

As the native cops escorted him to their cruiser, an informal gauntlet of his indigenous neighbors stood quietly, looking curiously at him.

Sonny Ray and Dwayne stood across from eachother as the cops escorted Bob down the middle of the small crowd.

Both men slowly reached out and touched the shoulder of Bob, counting an intertribal coup upon their enemy.

Bob naturally flinched, thinking them to do him harm. All the people from various nations followed suit. He was not harmed because he was not worthy of such a memorable end.

Bob was no warrior.

He was a coward and just a sad human being who lived in a diminutive world of his own making. Bob sat in the back seat of the police cruiser, his sweaty forehead against the window, staring out into the mostly indigenous crowd.

He was confused, stunned. Bob had expected to be possibly killed, and at the very least beaten badly for his attempts to murder four people. They had every right to get after him, but they didn’t. Bob for the life of him, could not understand why.

His humiliation was complete.

As Bob continued to look out the window, the lights of the cruiser, and siren were turned on, as he began the short journey to jail. After an hour and a half of being interviewed the foursome, along with Greg, and some other friends, caravanned to Dwayne’s house to celebrate.

Tomorrow Sonny Ray would hit the road, bound for Las Vegas.

The following morning Sonny Ray and Dwayne shared a cup of coffee.
After gathering his two bags the two men headed downstairs. Sonny Ray closed the trunk of his rental car.
“Here you go,” Dwayne said handing his friend a brown paper bag. “What’s this?” “My grandmother made you some lunch, you know for the road,” Dwayne said. “Mahalo nui my friend please be sure to thank your grandmother for me,” Sonny Ray said quietly. The two men shook hands, it was time to go.
“Call me when you get to Vegas. Nadia made me promise her that. We all want to know you got home safe,” Dwayne said, tapping the top of the car. “I will.” Sonny Ray began to slowly roll away. “Hey Sonny Ray, ” Dwayne called out. Sonny Ray braked, and looked back at Dwayne. “You better hurry, your friend there might arrive before you do,” Dwayne said pointing at the westerly skies.
Sonny Ray looked up. “It more than likely will,” Sonny Ray said. “You think so?” Dwayne replied. “Hey man, it has no stop signs, and no cops,” Sonny Ray replied.
“Get home safe Sonny Ray.” Sonny Ray waved, and slowly drove away.

The Black Eagle Dream pressed on.

Cyrus would have been proud of his son.

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