Tragedy, Justice, and Tuesdays: Chapter 1 – Another Day

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Chapter 1 – Another Day

Events of the past flash again in my dreams. Facing down a peaceful protest when I was starting out as an office with my shotgun set on lethal before I pull the trigger, shooting countless criminals both in the corporate and criminal enterprise, almost being shot by my confessor while confessing my sins then gunning down my local bishop and his false shepherds, shooting the chief of police I worked under, and finally, facing the many members of congress and putting a bullet in the president of the United States. This is probably the third time this week I’ve seen these events in my dreams, which is a record because I’ve dreamed of one or many of the events at least once a week. Still, it’s hard to believe that it all happened and wasn’t just something that I saw in an action movie. I thank God every day for making it happen and all the people who supported me in making this old-fashioned American punishment of tyranny happen.

Today’s the big day I take a vacation from my job as the sheriff of my city. I take my revolver off its charger, grab my phone, and my black cowboy hat then head out. My eyes can’t help but look up at the state of the city. Corporate ads promote essentially pornographic shows or promote their products using explicit imagery that shows that they still view people as products and pay pigs. It’s a shame that I can’t be even slightly justified in going after them and have to just ignore the ads and tell people not to buy from corporations that only care about profit. I look down before the ads change to cringy political ads and ones that take advantage of popular topics, especially when they try to copy my image. Looking up also sickens me because of the new flying cars that only the richest of people can drive.

In the distance, I see a group of two people arguing over the new state of things or rather slightly new state of things.

One speaker says, “We should follow Silas’ example and take away power from those who don’t deserve it and abuse it for their own gain.”

“What has that accomplished? We should go further than him and overturn the entire system and fill it with trustworthy people who can easily be brought to justice if they turn against the people they serve,” another side argues.

“How about both of you consider the damage that’s been done? The country is in chaos because Silas killed several major leaders. Now, people are fighting over control of the empty positions and we are paying for it. Things were better before and we should go back to that way of living,” a third leader says as their party enters the debate.

“Being under one corrupt leader is no different than a different corrupt leader. The only difference is the problem. It’s like preferring to be in one trash bin rather than another because it smells less horrible.”

“Silas is heading this way!”

“Let’s ask him what his opinion is. Silas, what do you think?”

“I think ya’ll should behave yourselves,” I say while showing my revolver in its holster.

The three groups say something to me that I’m not bothering to listen to as I pass by them. Talking has never got anything done as far as I know. People who talk of change are like politicians trying to get reelected. They speak on what’s topical with source upon source and other reputable people backing them up, but never really accomplish anything. Even if something happens, they either make things worse or things stay the same. No one cares about real truth. No one cares about questioning their own beliefs and whether or not they’re viewing reality through the right lens. All these influencers care about is what they want to be right rather than what is right.

Man, these things get me so aggravated that I feel like I should go out for a drink. I do have a bottle clipped to my side. It’s called the Emperor’s Head that’s worth about a hundred thousand dollars and has been held by every criminal mastermind since the time of the pirates about one thousand five hundred years ago. People say that those who have this bottle of alcohol are untouchable until the next criminal mastermind comes along. No one has messed with me ever since I got it and I’m not a superstitious man despite being a religious one, but I still keep it with me to remind people of what I’m capable of. Sure, someone can shoot me from where I can’t see and take this expensive bottle for themselves, however, history says that most people will not attack the holder of the Emperor’s Head. Whatever the case is, I still carry it around with me all the time and even forget to take it off my hip when I go to bed.

Heading to my usual place by the boardwalk to get my pick-me-up, I find a pathetic sight. My partner in justice, my best friend, Josh is stripped of his pants and is being kicked by a crowd of people while his poor mother cries and is held back by the crowd. Taking out my gun, I approach the crowd and everyone immediately backs off without me having to fire a shot because they know I’ll shoot them. Looking down at the pathetic thing below me, I kick him in the gut.

“What’s the matter with you? Huh? You’re strong enough to take on this entire crowd and you’re making your mother cry. How pathetic can you be?” I say.

“There’s no use to fighting. We’ve accomplished nothing. Nothing has changed even after what we did,” he drones on.

“Listen. I better see you on the boat so we can have a nice vacation together or I will stuff you into a suitcase and take you there myself. Do you understand?”

He mumbles to himself while still lying on the ground. My best friend from school and a zealous fighter for justice is reduced to this because he’s jaded by the fact that the world hasn’t changed much. What happened to my friend who got angry after the criminals cut up his father and sent his remains to us all clean in a package? What happened also to this stand that he and I used to go to? It’s encased in bulletproof glass and our friend here has a shotgun under the register I gave him from the station’s armory. Even if he didn’t want to kill anyone, the gun can still be loaded with nonlethal bullets, which I also gave him. Seeing him kneel in the corner and pray his rosary gets me even madder because he should know what he should’ve done, so I grab his hot pot of tea from within the stand and splash some of the hot water on his back.

“You’re useless as well. What happened to that one-man army that fought off an entire squad of corrupted swat officers?” I say.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles to himself.

I want to say more, but it won’t change anything, so I put my hand in the container full of lollipops, take a handful of them out, and put them in my pocket.

“I’ll be taking my usual pick-me-up.”

“Yeah…”

Turning around, I see people backing away from me. As the crowd backs away, I see Josh’s wife looking down on the ground with a water bottle in her hand. I take the bottle out of her hand and slap her in the face with it. Not sure why I thought that was the best way to show her how upset I am with her, but it’s what I did. She used to tell us what the company she was working for was doing to make us look bad and gave us what we needed so we could bring its leaders to justice or rather in their graves since they tried to kill us. This put her in a difficult position where no one wants to hire her, but she was fine with this back in the day because she was doing the right thing. It looks like being out of a job and letting her husband do most of the work has taken its toll and I pity her for it. Still, it’s no excuse for not helping her husband when he’s just as down and out as she is.

There’s nothing more for me here to do or say, so I unwrap a mystery lollipop, put it in my mouth, and walk away. Dang, it’s blueberry, not root beer. Don’t get me wrong, blueberry is my second flavor to root beer, but still. Root beer is my favorite because it reminds me of the root beer I drank with my family on Sundays in a diner in the city. The diner was destroyed when I had more people after me and my parents are in a secret place where no one should find them. Nevertheless, I still eat these lollipops because they remind me of a simpler time, my father’s addiction to them that carried over to me, and the few times I was actually happy and not always agitated at something.

“Silas, my boy, I’m so glad you came to save, Josh. He was helpless without you and has been so miserable as of late. I don’t know what to do!” Josh’s mother says.

She holds onto my arm and cries on it. My family and Josh’s have been close friends for a while. The poor woman must be going through a lot and I’m sure she hasn’t gotten over her husband's gruesome death. She does attend daily masses where the cemetery he’s buried at after all.

“Don’t worry, miss. Josh just needs some time away from all this and he’ll be back to his old self,” I say.

“I hope so. Can we shop a little before we go to the ship?”

“Of course. We have some time before the ship leaves and they already have my luggage on board.”

“Thank you. It’ll just be like old times.”

Josh’s mother and mine used to shop together all the time back in the day. Our family might as well have been distant relatives for all the time we spent together. Surprisingly, Josh didn’t want to send her to the same location my family is because he thought things would change so she wouldn’t have to leave her neighbors, which means so much to her. We shop around the boardwalk before we head to the ship that’s loading passengers and guarded by my officers.

Before going on the ship, I say to one of the officers, “Make sure Josh gets on the ship and if he doesn’t get on today, I give you permission to force him to go on.”

“Yes, sir,” an officer says.

“But, sir, are you sure the city will be fine without you? We’re already getting reports of theft, assault, murder, and more,” another officer says.

“I trust you and everyone else I put in charge. As far as the crime is concerned, it’s just another Tuesday.”

“Tuesday, sir?”

“Another monotonous day is what I mean. Good hunting out there. I’m sure you’ll all do well.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” the officers say.

I then board the ship and keep an eye out for Josh only for him not to arrive before the ship leaves.

Turning to his mother, I say, “Don’t worry. I’m sure Josh will join us tomorrow. My officers will make sure of that.”

“I hope they won’t be rough with him,” Josh’s mother says.

I hope they will be rough with him. You’re making me worry as much as your mother, Josh. Please, come with us on vacation tomorrow or I will personally come and get you. The ship arrives on shore after a while of sailing. This place we’re taking our vacation is a small shore town that’s quiet with small buildings, unlike the noisy city we’re used to. I don’t think there’s even a building here that’s over three stories high. It’s refreshing to not turn a corner and see advertising for something.

After getting our luggage settled into our expansive hotel room with multiple beds and rooms, Josh’s mother and I decide to go shopping because of course where there’s a place to shop then Josh’s mother has to go there. It’s what she says she wants to do, but I also think she’s doing it to take it easy and not worry so much about Josh. I can only pray my worry away right now, and it looks like some of my prayers aren’t getting answered. In the distance, I see a robbery taking place with three masked men trying to steal from everyone in the shop and not just the shop itself.

“Go and do what’s right,” Josh’s mother says.

“No, we can let the law enforcement here do their job,” I say.

“Then why do you have your gun out?”

Oh. Looks like I do have my revolver out already.

“It’s a habit, I guess. Still, we should let the officers here take care of this and enjoy our vacation.”

“Do you see any officers around?”

“No.”

“Has going above the law stopped you from doing what’s right?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Then save those people before any more harm can happen to them. I’ll be going back to the hotel.”

I can never argue with her. She’s like a second mother to me. Doing what she says, I approach the shop with my weapon set to stun, drawn, and pointed at one of the robbers.

Before I can say or pull the trigger, one of the pedestrians says, “It’s the grim reaper!”

“And look! He has death’s scythe!” another says.

The grim reaper is my nickname and death’s scythe is the nickname for my revolver given to me after all that I’ve done. I’ve told people not to call me the grim reaper though I don’t really have a problem with death’s scythe being the nickname for my revolver since I never gave it a nickname despite customizing it with a cross and a blade that can come out of the end of the grip.

“It’s three against one. Back off and pretend you didn’t see anything,” one of the robbers says.

“I faced corporate goons, the dogs of a corrupt government, and criminals of all kinds. Do you really think I have a problem with being outnumbered?” I seriously ask.

The robbers look at each other before trying to book it out of the back entrance. Idiots. Using my revolver, I take out one before running outside to take out the other two. Whew. That felt like an itch I needed to scratch-

“It’s Silas! Our cover’s up!” one person says before a crowd of people take out their guns.

Oh, come on. Taking cover, I try to fight against everyone surrounding me until the officers here finally show up to help. Together, we take down the criminals and put their incapacitated bodies in the back of a police truck to be taken to the nearby prison.

“Thanks for backing me up. What can I buy ya’ll to express my gratitude?” I say to the officers.

“You can leave and go into hiding. Because of what you’ve done, people have been getting overconfident and think they can do whatever they want when they feel like they’re being oppressed,” an officer says.

“I’m just here on vacation. I’ll keep my head down from now on.”

“You better.”

I have heard on the news that riots have been popping up not only in this country but also in other countries because of my actions. There’s nothing I can do about those riots and those who misunderstand the reasons why I rebelled against my own country. The only thing I can do is remind people why I did what I did and continue to do my job as the sheriff of my city. My city and what I have to deal with are my only concerns, so the riots will have to be dealt with by their respective law enforcement. The only help they’ll get from me is my prayers and whatever help God chooses to give them.

Going back to the hotel room, I find it empty with Josh’s mother in none of the rooms. I go around the area asking if she was seen by anyone. Some people are scared of me or hate me and don’t give me an answer. Others say that they haven’t seen her since she last left with me. Getting nervous, I begin to leave the hotel until a mailman gives me a large package before quickly leaving. Chills fill my body as I get a weird sense of déjà vu. Quickly opening the package, I find the cut-up remains of Josh’s mother. Her limbs are all cleaned as if she didn’t bleed while she was cut, however, her face is stuck in an expression of horror.

“Again?! How could this happen again?!” I say aloud.

My first reaction to this is chasing after the mailman, but he’s disappeared. Okay, the last time, the killer left a note here, and here it is!

“I don’t know why you’re here, but I have an offer for you, grim reaper. You’ve already seen my work with your friend’s father and I’m reminding you of my work with his mother so that you know who you’re messing with. If you don’t come to the junkyard and offer your services to me, everyone else you know will suffer the same fate. That includes your own family. They aren’t safe because you think you put them in a safe place in the world. There isn’t a place in this world that I can’t reach. See you soon,” the letter reads.

“Bastard!” I say aloud.

He’s going to pay for this, but first, I have to have the remains of Josh’s mother taken care of. Hold on, the authorities here are probably going to think I’m going to start trouble if I completely explain the situation. I mean, I will start trouble. Still, they could be in on this as well like how my precinct was against me, but I don’t want to just hang onto these remains until a convenient excuse comes up to have them properly taken care of.  With no better ideas in my head, I give the remains to a person at the hotel’s desk, give a quick explanation of what happened, and head out to the junkyard. Before I know it, I can hear police sirens and hide in an alley to see a few police cars and an ambulance head to the hotel. Another thing comes up in my mind and I immediately call up Josh. Come on, come on, pick up! Damn it! He’s not picking up.

“Josh, the news will be talking about this soon, but I thought I’d tell you this before you hear it. I’m…I’m sorry. The same guy who cut up your father and sent his remains to us got to your mother and did the same to her. I don’t have time to explain how it happened, but I’m going to see the guy who did it and put a bullet in his head. You better not do anything I wouldn’t or else, I will personally bring your ass back to life just so I can kick it. You hear me?! Josh, please-” I say before the recording time cuts off.

Damn it! God, please make sure Josh is okay and that everything will be alright in the end. For now, I have justice to dish out. If that piece of crap wants the grim reaper, then he’ll get him! Death’s coming for you!