GUILT TRIP Free Chapter

GUILT TRIP

CHAPTER 42

    

Three days later.

MIDNIGHT ON THE Southside of town. Bradley’s been here before and swore he would never come to this side of town again. Circumstances dictate otherwise. This is where his mission is. This is where he must balance the scales of justice.

An eye for an eye.

With his .38 revolver on his lap, Bradley watches and waits in his car, cautiously eyeing every passerby. From professional psychiatrist to amateur stalker. This is the transition Bradley’s making tonight.

He’s scared out of his mind, but he’s equally resolute in what he considers to be his duty.

“Come on, come on,” he says impatiently. After a few moments, Bradley decides to call off his mission.

Maybe tomorrow night. Maybe never. Who am I kidding?

     He decides to start the car and leave this god-forsaken side of town once and for all. Just as he starts to put the car in gear, he sees movement in front of the building. The headlights from his car illuminate the figure just enough for him to see.

There he is. Henry Lee Ray.

     Bradley turns off the car and watches Henry Lee as he stumbles down a dimly lit alley next to the cheap, pay-by-the-hour motel he’s been staying in since he got out of prison.

Henry Lee decided to pick up another old habit of his; drinking. He put on a bender the past two nights. Henry Lee stumbles to the side of a dumpster and leans over to vomit.

Come on Andy. You can do this.

Bradley turns off the car and gets out. He looks around cautiously as he briskly walks up to Henry Lee. He considers shooting Henry Lee in the back, but Bradley wants him to know who it was that shot him. He wants to look the monster in the eye and watch him die.

As he points the gun at Henry Lee, he accidentally kicks a soda can on the ground. Immediately, Henry Lee turns to defend himself.

“Who’s there?” Henry Lee says as he takes a switchblade from his pocket. “Whoever you are, ya want trouble, I’ll give ya all ya want.”

As Henry Lee struggles to see in the dark, he suddenly sees the glimmering nickel-plated barrel of a .38 revolver pointing right at him.

The next thing he see’s behind that shiny barrel is a familiar face.

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