"Purge the Evil" - a novel

by Bill Dunn

(Note: this is a work-in-progress attempt at writing a novel. Feedback, critiques, plot suggestions are more than welcomed.)
 

CHAPTER 26

Friday, November 19th, 9:15 p.m.

Four agitated men sat on folding chairs in the service department of Wilkins Ford-Nissan. A lone florescent light flickered and buzzed above their heads. One of the men, Pit Bull Peterson, was practically in tears. “I murdered an innocent man!” he wailed.

            “Pit Bull, c’mon, pull yourself together,” Tom Wilkins said. “It was an unfortunate accident. It’s not your fault.”

            “Oh yeah?” Pit Bull yelled, “I pulled the trigger. I killed him!”

            “David, please,” Rev. G.W. Morton said calmly, “You must relax. Don’t let this tragic mistake eat you up. You were doing the right thing, but an unforeseen error resulted in this, um, accident.”

“Accident, accident! You guys keep using the work accident,” Pit Bull exclaimed. “If I was driving along and someone stepped out in front of my car and I hit him, that would be an accident. But this was no accident. I snuck up behind Walter Nathan and I blew him away—on purpose! And I saw his eyes, just before he fell to the ground, looking right at me. His eyes were saying, ‘Why? Why are you killing me?’”

            Pit Bull stood and began to pace in a circle around the four chairs, clutching the top of his head with his hands. It looked as if he was trying to pull his hair out. Tom Wilkins and Rev. Morton turned in their seats to keep an eye on him.

            “Oh my God, what am I gonna do now? What am I gonna do?!” Pit Bull said as he paced.

            Rev. Morton took a deep breath and stood up. He walked over to Pit Bull and put his arm around him. “David, you’re not going to do anything. There is nothing you can do about it. It’s all in God’s hands now. We can only pray that the good Lord shows mercy toward the soul of Walter. But you must understand, it truly was an accident. You did not desire that Walter Nathan should die, did you?”

            Pit Bull looked at the preacher and silently shook his head.

            “Of course not. You wanted his brother, the career criminal, to be, um…eliminated, right? Well, what happened was, unfortunately, Walter Nathan stepped out in front of your car, so to speak. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time—and you didn’t know anything about it—and there was a terrible accident. That’s what happened, David, an accident. It was not…your…fault.”

            Pit Bull groaned, then shook his head and said, “I feel awful!”

            “Listen buddy,” Tom Wilkins said quietly as he stood up and walked toward Pit Bull. “I was right there with you. I thought it was the correct guy, too. It was too dark to know any better. If it had been my turn, it woulda been me pulling the trigger. I know you feel terrible. We all feel terrible. But you’re just gonna have to forget about it. Put it in the past.”

            Pit Bull walked over to his chair and sat down. He leaned forward and buried his face into his hands. Wilkins and Rev. Morton made eye contact and shrugged in unison. Capt. Bradford exhaled impatiently and grimaced.

            “Look, Pit Bull,” Wilkins said as he also sat down, “we all agreed from the very beginning that this was a lot like going to war. We were taking the battle to the enemy and we were going to use extreme measures. We all agreed—you included.”

            Pit Bull looked up at his friend. His eyes were swollen with tears.

            Wilkins paused and wondered if Pit Bull was about to throw up again. Then he continued. “In any war, there unfortunately will be collateral damage, innocents who get caught in the crossfire. It stinks, but it’s just a fact of life. From what we know, this kid was a good kid, but he just got caught in the crossfire, and that’s a real shame. But it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change our mission, our goal. What we are doing is right. You know that, Pit Bull. You’ve been saying it for months now. You know it’s true.”

            Pit Bull grimaced, and wished he could take back everything he had said during the previous months.

            “We can’t stop now,” Rev. Morton interjected. “We are doing the right thing. We are purging the evil from among us. We can’t let this setback derail our mission. David, look at me,” he said forcefully.

            Pit Bull slowly turned his head toward the preacher. He red eyes were glazed over and not focused on anything. A drop of mucus dangled from his runny nose.

            “David, you must not lose sight of the big picture. We are saving lives. We are making our community a better place to live. We can’t stop now. Go home, get some sleep. In a couple of days you won’t feel nearly as bad, and we’ll all be ready to move forward. We’ll all work together to make sure no other mission ever turns out this way again.”

            “Damn right,” Capt. Bradford said. “That’s the bottom line: get over it, move on, and make damn sure it never happens again.”

            “Well, it’s not gonna happen again with me,” Pit Bull said, his voice cracking. “Because I’m out. I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore.”

            A hush fell over the room. Wilkins and Rev. Morton made eye contact again. Then they both looked toward Capt. Bradford, whose face was quickly turning red.

            “I…did…not…hear…that,” Bradford spat out, his words clipped and angry.

            “No no, of course he didn’t mean it, Captain,” Wilkins said nervously. Wilkins and Rev. Morton glanced at each other yet again. There was genuine fear in both men’s eyes.

            “That’s right, Captain Ray,” Rev. Morton said. “David is just exhausted. He’ll be fine in the morning after a good night’s sleep.”

            “No, I don’t think so,” Pit Bull said quietly while looking at his shoes. “I can’t do this anymore.”

            “C’mon, Pit Bull,” Wilkins said as cheerily as possible. “You’re tired and you’re frustrated. No problem! We’re all in this together, remember? No turning back, right, old buddy?” He reached over, grabbed Pit Bull’s knee, and gave it a good shake. “Don’t worry at all, Captain, my old pal here will be just fine. He’s a team player and he’ll never give up on our team. Trust me, OK? I’ll get his head screwed on right in a couple days. Don’t worry, all right?”

            “I’m not worried,” Bradford said matter-of-factly. “We’re all in this together to the end, just like we promised each other. Nobody walks out. That’s not an option.”

            Both Wilkins and Rev. Morton nodded their heads solemnly. They knew exactly what Bradford meant by his not-too-subtle threat. There was only one way to leave the group: in a body bag.

            Pit Pull continued to gaze toward the floor, lost in thought and remorse. He didn’t hear any of the conversation going on around him.

            Capt. Bradford stood up. “OK, let’s take a break for a few days,” he said. “We’ll meet again next Wednesday and plan the next mission.” He looked at Wilkins, then turned toward Rev. Morton. “I’ll leave it to you two to finish this pathetic hand-holding session and then get this guy back in shape. We’re not going to have anymore foul ups, and we’re not going to stop our missions, understand?”

            The two men nodded in agreement. Capt. Bradford exited the room through the entry door in the far corner, next to the four roll-up overhead doors.

            “Whew,” Wilkins exclaimed when the door closed behind the police captain. “That dude scares me sometimes.”

            “Me too,” Rev. Morton added. “But he sure knows what he’s doing. He’s picked good targets so far and planned the missions well.”

            “Not that well,” Wilkins said. “He’s the one who called me and said Archie was on his way back to the condo. He’s the one who really screwed up, you know. Couldn’t even tell the wrong brother was driving the Jeep.”

            “OK, Tom, relax,” the minister said. “It’s over. Don’t get angry at Bradford. Let’s all take a deep breath. We should do exactly as he said and take a few days off. We’ll regroup next week and come back stronger than ever.”

            Wilkins nodded in agreement, then said to Pit Bull, “You hear that, old buddy? We’ll come back stronger than ever.”

            Pit Bull grunted in reply.

            “You all right now?” Wilkins asked. “Do you need a ride home?”

            “I don’t feel so good,” Pit Bull said. “I think I’m gonna barf.”

            “Oh crap, not again,” Wilkins exclaimed as he scrambled to find a trash can. Pit Bull hung his head in the waste basket for a few moments. The nauseous feeling passed, then he then sat back and mumbled, “I’m all right. I wanna go home.”

            “Hey G.W.,” Wilkins said, “I’ll drive Pit Bull home in his car, and you follow us so you can bring me back here, OK?”

            “Sure Tom,” Rev. Morton answered. “Come on, David. Time to go to bed.” Each man reached down and grabbed an arm and helped Pit Bull to his feet. They slowly led him toward the door.
            “A good night’s sleep, that’s all you need,” Rev. Morton said in a soothing voice as they walked.

            “You know, 3 a.m. comes really early,” Pit Bull replied.

            Wilkins laughed and said, “Pit Bull, you are a piece of work. Just call in sick for once. Someone else can do the Saturday show.”

            “Oh, no no, I can’t do that,” Pit Bull mumbled as they left the building. “It’s my show.”

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