The Road to Round Mountain: The Betrayal by (30 page)

TV. His lifeless eyes stared endlessly at the ceiling. He had a gunshot right in his forehead and another in his chest.

In the few moments that we were in there I noticed that

everyone had the same gunshot wounds. The two guys that  always played ping pong were shot dead while they were  playing; one of them still had the paddle gripped tightly in  his hand. I heard a little gurgling noise behind me. I turned  just in time to watch Gordon lose his lunch as he was bent  over the couch. He looked up at me, “Sorry”. I shrugged but  didn’t know what to say because this was making my stomach turn as well. The stench in here was awful, a combination  of gunpowder and what seemed like a copper smell.

As I looked around I saw the card table that was occu-

pied by the four Horsemen; and there they were. Only Sully  remained seated as the others fell to the floor. Sully was dead

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of course as were the others, but as big as he was it probably  would have taken a Bazooka to knock him off his chair. I

almost slipped on some blood on the floor as I heard a moan

coming from Mr. Watkins office.

Gordon heard the moan before I did and he started to

head for the office. I ran after him almost slipping on one  of the numerous puddles of blood. Gordon stopped at the  doorway and I heard him say, “Sheriff”? A voice from behind  me answered, “That was the Sheriff”. I turned just in time  so see a large man in a dark suit with gun with a silencer  on it pointed at me. I started to say something but nothing  escaped my mouth. “Now if you play nice and come with  me no one else needs to get hurt”. Somehow he managed  a smile through this display of Bloody Friday. I knew immediately that his word meant nothing. “So where is Agent  Boling hiding at”, I asked? He cocked his head at an angle  that reminded me of our neighbor’s dog when he heard a  strange noise.

“Oh, you mean the lady, unfortunately she will not be  joining our party. This get together is by invitation only”.  Okay that didn’t answer anything but raised a lot more questions. One of which was how long he intended to point that  gun at me. “So what if I say I’m not going with you, then  what”? He smiled and replied, “Wrong answer”, and extended his other arm to insure that his aim would be accurate.

I made a sweep of my arms aimed at him and his arm went straight up in the air. I was hoping that the gun would fly out of his hand. Nope. I held my arm up and that seemed to keep his arm and gun pointed at the ceiling. I heard  Gordon scuffling around the office. He came out of the

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office and stood next to me. In his hand was a 32 caliber

revolver. “Where the hell did you get that”, I asked, trying  to keep focus on the gunman’s arm. Gordon looked straight  ahead at the Gunman, didn’t respond to my question. Lord  knows that he heard me. He took two steps forward raised  the gun, aimed it at the Gunman and fired the pistol until it  clicked empty.

The Smell of gunpowder invaded my nose as the  Gunman fell face first on the floor. I lost my concentration as  Gordon unloaded. Gordon continued forward towards the

Gunman then reared back and kicked him in the back of the

head screaming, “I hate Bullies’, I fucking hate Bullies”. He  turned and slowly walked back to me. He was wide eyed and  looked like he was ready to shoot some more.

“Dude where did you learn to shoot like that”, I inquired  carefully? Gordon pointed at the office, “The Sheriff”.  Gordon looked at the 32 caliber revolver he was carrying  in his right hand, handed it to me and said, “Give this back  to the Sheriff”, as he walked back towards the man he just  gunned down. I walked back into the office and glanced back  towards Gordon. He took the weapon form the dead man’s  hand and unscrewed the silencer. It was almost disturbing  that a shy guy like him would know how to do that.

The Sheriff was trying to sit up and his face was a mess.  His right eye was pretty much closed and swollen with blood  that dripped all over his face. The left side of his jaw looked  twice the size of the right side. He could hardly speak. I  handed his 32 back to him and he managed to slide it back  into his ankle holster but I noticed that his service revolver

was missing from his belt holster. “We got to get you out of

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here”, I told the Sheriff. He tried to mumble something but  I couldn’t make it out and I didn’t want him to have to repeat  it as I was pretty sure his jaw was broken.

“Gordon, get in here”. Gordon came trotting back towards the office trying not to slip on the numerous puddles  of blood. “Yeah, what do you need me to do”, as he had a firm  grip on the gunman’s weapon. “You have to drive the Sheriff  back to the Jail, he needs medical help and the deputies can  call that in”. “Me drive, Billy, I’ve never driven before; I don’t  even have a license”. I put my hand on his shoulder and said,  “By the power given to me by the state of Oregon, you now  have the authorization to operate his car. Haul ass dude, he  can’t even talk”. Gordon shrugged his shoulders accepting  the terms of my decree and helped the Sheriff up and made  their way to the patrol car. Gordon looked back at me as the  Sheriff fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them to  Gordon. “What are you planning on”? “Don’t know yet, just  make sure that everybody is safe and I’ll be along in a bit”.

Gordon was going to hand me the dead mans’ weapon  but I declined as I was sure that I would end up shooting  two toes off my right foot. I’ve never shot a gun before and  now was not the time to try and figure it out. They made it in  the car and Gordon finally got it started. He found out that  the gas pedal didn’t need to go all the way to the floorboard  as he spun gravel everywhere before finally getting it under  control and headed back to the jail. I’m not sure who I was  more scared for, the Sheriff or Gordon.

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I turned bAck
 
towards the Rec. Hall and the mess

hall. I was mulling over what the setup was supposed to accomplish. I knew they wanted me, but I didn’t understand  the rest of it. The more I thought about it the more my head  hurt. The image of all those bloody bodies in the Rec. hall  was eternally engrained in my head; a visual that I was never  going to be able to forget.

I heard a noise coming from the mess hall, it sounded  like a bunch of pots and pans clattering on the floor. I slowly  walked over to the mess hall, but decided to go between the  Rec. hall and the mess hall to stay away from the windows.  At least one person was inside, but I couldn’t dismiss the idea  that there might be more. Christ, how many people did they  bring and what did that gunman mean when he said Boling  wasn’t invited to the party. Did they kill her as well?

I leaned against the wall of the Rec. hall and started concentrating. Everything was fuzzy at first but then I could  start making out some of the familiar surroundings inside. I  could make out the tables and the counter where they would  fill our trays and that’s when I saw two bodies face first on  the floor in the kitchen, littered with an assortment of pans  and utensils as well.

I was startled by the sight of the guy that Gordon un-loaded the Sheriff’s gun on, standing over the two motionless bodies. I know what I saw, so how the hell did he rise from

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the dead and walk over to the next building and shoot two  more people. My headache was now in full bloom. My confusion was compounded when I ran over by the front door of  the Rec. Hall and saw the gunman still in the prone position.

Running between the Rec. hall and the mess hall I  stopped when I got to the back of the mess hall and turned  on my concentration again. Unbelievable, the twin gunman  had stopped at one of the prep tables in the kitchen and  was helping himself to some muffins. For some people, cold  blooded murder makes one ravenous. I backed up about fifteen feet away from the building. There was no window at  the back door so I needn’t worry about being seen; at least  not by him.

Assuming time was short at hand, I decided for a surprise  attack. The gunman had a couple of muffins in his hand as  he opened up one of fridge doors and pulled out a Pepsi.  Okay, maybe I do have a little time, but not much. Just as I  saw how I wanted to surprise the gunman, it hit me. They  knew that we would show up here, figuring that it was a trap.  That wasn’t hard to figure out. No witnesses, no crime. With  us being here, others would be at the Jail to…..oh crap I need  to hurry.

With the gunman still in my vision, I threw my arms  out away from me aimed at the back wall, hoping that those  heavy cinder blocks would do the job. The back wall imploded and the back part of the roof collapsed on top of it. I heard  screaming coming from the rubble, but it abruptly stopped.  Maybe I got lucky. Some sparks flew from the power lines  but quickly died off. The smell of natural gas invaded my  nostrils, along with the dust from crumbled cinder blocks.

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I started to head back to the jail when I heard a cough.  I swung around just in time to see the twin gunman stand-ing in the middle of broken boards and scattered chunks of cinder block. He was smiling at me while he had his gun aimed straight at me. I knew something that he didn’t, and  I took off running hoping to get far enough away, when he fired the gun and the spark ignited the natural gas causing a huge explosion.

I managed to get maybe thirty feet between me and the mess hall, but I could feel the intense heat rushing past me as the noise from the explosion subsided. Looking back all  I could see was the mess hall fully engulfed in flames. I was sure that I didn’t have to worry about the twin gunman mak-ing another appearance so I got up and started hauling ass for the jail. The combination of being scared to death and the growing anger inside me was not going to be useful to anyone. As I ran I tried to calm myself down, but the thought of my friends, especially Jenny, being gunned down was too much to tackle. I might end up going postal. I’m not sure of the meaning, but my Dad used that phrase constantly if I didn’t clean my room like he asked. I’m guessing that going postal was not pleasant for those on the receiving end.

No matter how fast you run, you feel like you’re never going to get to your destination. I wasn’t much in the way of religion, but believe me when I say that I was praying that I would get to the jail in time before anyone got hurt. Trying not to think about how much my foot was hurting; I was startled by another explosion. I slowed down and turned and saw chunks from the roof of the mess hall scattered through the sky and the flames from the fire had grown to enormous

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proportions. The faint sound of sirens got me running again.

My legs felt like they were cramping up on me, I thought  that I was running at a pretty good clip only to see that I was  maybe half way to the jail. How many thugs did they planted  at the jail? Was Boling part of it or did the twin thugs take  her out as well. My headache was starting to blur my vision  but all I could think of was getting back to the jail before  anyone got hurt. All I could do at this point was to hope that  no one got hurt yet and most importantly, keep running.

Finally I was able to see the jail, maybe three blocks away.  I saw the Sheriff’s patrol car not exactly parked as he would  have but since Gordon was driving I’m sure it was close  enough. I needed to slow down, catch my breath and think  about what I might find inside the jail. This was one time  that the macabre did not enter my thinking. I was just across  the field now and started putting my focus on the south end  of the building, where most everyone should be. All I wanted  to see, was people moving around. I’ve had enough of walking into a bloodbath.

I approached the end of the jail’s parking lot, close  enough now so that I should be able to see a little bit better. There, now I can see live bodies mulling around inside.  They don’t seem to be moving around much and they’re all  grouped together like they were…….oh crap, in jail. About  ten feet away from the building I could account for everyone  that was here before Gordon and I left.

There’s two jail cells, not much need for more according to the Sheriff, and I can see everyone jammed together in one cell. The Sheriff was laying down on the small single bed with his wife Anne trying to tend to his wounds. Gordon

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and Jenny were standing next to the bed looking down at the  Sheriff. Deputy Dave and Mallory were in there with them.  Dave was looking at Mallory’s head as it appears that he was  hit from behind.

I scanned the rest of the building quickly and saw an older man holding a weapon of some sort and standing next to him was, I swear to God, the third Gunman that was identical to the first two. My Mother was right, Bad news always comes in three’s. Now what to do, I didn’t see anyone else wandering about, so I guess it’s just those two.  I can’t do what I just did to the mess hall, and I can’t go in gun’s a blazing since I don’t have a gun and don’t want one.  I might be able to hold off one of them but I doubt that  I could do anything before the other one started firing his weapon. Time to be rational, I have to remember that ev-eryone inside needs to make it safely outside. Nothing left to do but go inside and see what I can do to make sure that no one gets hurt; here goes.

I felt like I was moving in slow motion when I came through the door. Mr. Triplett gunman was poised to take my head off with his weapon pointed at my face. I was scared shitless, but I wasn’t about to let them know it. I came through the swinging gate passed the check in counter and heard my name called out numerous times as I came into view of the cells. Jenny was standing at the front of the cell holding her hands out for me. I rushed over and took both of her hands into mine and she was starting to say something when, “Good afternoon Mr. Speer, I wouldn’t get too chum-my quite yet; it seems we have some business to discuss”.