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Life and Death Choices Made Casually Chapter Twenty-One: The Confrontation
“Bang!” Bridget winced against the recoil and pulled the trigger twice more. “Bang! Bang!” She then looked down the range, but couldn’t see how well she had done. She aimed again and shot twice more. “Bang! Bang!” She then aimed the revolver at the target again. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Did she fire six shots or only five?’ Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?” She pulled the trigger once more, but the revolver only clicked. She looked confused.
“Angela,” said Derek, “It’s a .357 Magnum and since it’s a small frame weapon, it only has five shots. Go down and look at your target and see how you did.” He took the revolver from her and spun out the cylinder and showed her the five empty chambers. “I’ll reload while you put a new target up.”
Bridget walked down to the end of the field were they set the target. Her shots had been all hit the target, but they were all over the place. She pulled the paper silhouette down and replaced it with a new one and returned to Derek.
“Let’s see how you did.” He took her target and frowned. For awhile he didn’t say anything. “Not good enough. You got to get your grouping down to this small.” He held his hands in a circle about six inches in diameter. “When you actually go up against your terrorist, groupings get worse. Even policemen’s groupings expand when they are in an actual shootout.” He handed her the revolver. “Now try again and don’t pretend to be Dirty Harry. Concentrate on what we are doing.”
She was concentrating. Derek was being so mean to her. Sure, he was helping her learn to shoot, but he could be nicer about it. She aimed the revolver and pointed it down range. Then she pointed and shot. She did it four more times in slow succession giving herself time to reposition the gun between recoils.
“Well, that looked better,” he said. "Now go see what you got and then we’ll try again. She got the target replaced it and then Derek demanded that she do better.
“Again,” he said. Each time she emptied the gun and returned with the target, he said, “Again.” By the time Derek was satisfied, she felt like her arm was going to come off. She was finally glad when they went to the farmhouse for bed.
The farmhouse wasn’t like Derek’s house. The place was rather run down and the pair of them had to sleep on the floor in sleeping bags. Bridget lay down her duffle bag and dug in it for a clean diaper.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“I’ve been diapering myself for almost a year,” she said angrily. Derek looked hurt, and she realized what he had been asking. “I will accept help if you want to give it to me.” She lay down fully dressed on the sleeping bag and held the diaper in her hands.
“Sure,” said Derek. "He knelt down and helped her undress. When she was naked, she tossed the diaper aside and pulled him on top of her. They kissed for quite awhile and then she felt his hand move from her breast to the area between her legs. It wasn’t long before she heard him fumble around for a condom.
"She lay in his arms clad in only a diaper, but the diaper and his arms were all she really needed. “You’re a good man Derek.”
“And you’re a good woman,” he said, “and I wouldn’t change one thing about you.”
“Well after tonight the diapers are going away,” she said. “I’ve been really looking forward to waking up in a dry bed and free of diapers.”
“Yeah, I must admit that I could do without the diapers.” He smiled and turned and tickled her. “As cute as they make you look, diapers really aren’t my idea of sexy lingerie.”
“I’ll be diaper free as soon as I kill that damned terrorist,” she said. She barely kept the snarl out of her voice. Instead, she got inside Derek’s sleeping bag with him and fell asleep in his arms.
“Wake up,” said Derek as he squeezed her around the middle.
Bridget woke up tired. Derek was spooning her and she felt so comfortable. She hadn’t even dreamed. She felt like she had only put her head down. “What time is it?” she groaned.
“It’s twenty after two,” said Derek. “We need to get up.” We reached around her for the zipper of the sleeping bag and pulled it open.
Bridget sat up and stretched. She checked her diaper, which was still dry, and smiled. She didn’t even have to pee. She left the diaper on because she would be using it when the terrorist arrived and threw on her blue jeans.
“Hurry up,” said Derek. He had already pulled on his t-shirt and jeans and pulled on a down jacket.
“I am,” said Bridget. She picked up the revolver, and opened the cylinder. It was loaded with five .357 Magnum rounds. The other four rounds were different colors, but she shrugged. Perhaps she had used too many bullets practicing and Derek had opened another box. She closed the cylinder and put the gun in her pocket.
Derek led the way to his pickup and opened the door and pulled out two black squares. He handed one to Bridget and closed the door. “Put this on the other door,” he said.
Bridget looked at the square and turned it around. It was a magnetic sign that said, Cuddly Creatures Fur Farm. Bridget’s logo with the cartoon mink and rabbit was nicely done and printed in color. She slapped it on the door of the truck and stepped back to admire it. “Now it looks like a company truck,” she said.
“That’s the idea,” he said. “We should probably go to the shed and wait.”
The shed was dark and dusty, but Bridget didn’t care. She turned on the light and examined the room. On each side of the long shed were shelves filled with rusty old cages. At the back was a table with a device to shock mink before skinning them. It looked as rusty and worn out as the cages. At the other end was the door. They headed toward the back.
“Here is the plan,” said Derek. “When he gets here, I will turn on the light and you shoot him. Fire one shot at a time until you hit him. Don’t shoot him twice or the cops might not think it is self-defense.”
“Sure,” said Bridget. She didn’t tell Derek, but she didn’t care what any cops thought. She would shoot him until he was dead.
He turned the light out and they crouched down together.
“What about the mink sounds we recorded?” she asked. “Won’t he suspect something if he doesn’t hear mink sounds.”
“Right,” said Derek. He pulled out his iPhone and tried to turn it on. “Crap.”
“The battery is dead.” He ran out of the shed carrying his phone and shortly returned with a cord.
“Why didn’t you charge it earlier,” asked Bridget.
“There is no electricity in the farm house, remember?” He turned on the light and plugged the phone into a power strip on the table, then plugged in the power strip. A humming sound came from a piece of equipment on the table, but he ignored it and started his iPhone instead. Soon the sound of mink filled the shed. He then turned out the light.
Waiting took forever. Bridget checked the time on her cell phone ten or fifteen times. It was already 3:37 am and she was so tired. She just wanted to go to bed. The stupid mink noises kept her away, but she didn’t really care about that. She just wanted the terrorist to come on ahead so she could kill him and get some sleep.
She caught herself nodding off, but then she heard a loud noise and almost wet her pants. She didn’t, but she had to pee urgently now. The door to the shed opened and a dark silhouette of a man at the doorway. She pulled her revolver and waited. Derek had told her they would wait until he got halfway into the shed before he would turn on the lights as a signal.
The man came closer. Her crotch felt numb and really warm. She was wetting the diaper. She couldn’t move until she emptied her bladder. Fortunately she was done before the man reached the halfway point.
Derek turned on the light and there was Owl standing fifteen feet away. She leveled the gun on him. “Don’t move a muscle,” she said.
“Just shoot him,” said Derek.
“I want him to know who I am,” said Bridget.
“You’re my niece’s roommate,” he said. “What are you doing here? Is this some kind of set up?” He started forward.
“I said, ‘don’t move!’” she said. She cocked the gun for emphasis. “I know who you are. You are a murderer. You killed two hundred forty children when you hijacked a tanker truck and drove it into a school.”
“That killer was a woman,” said Owl. “They executed her.”
“I was there in the cab with you when you drove that truck into a school. I know your tattoo, I know your voice, and I know your ideology. You destroyed that school because it was build near what you said was a haven for some insect. That is what the press release you issued when you claimed responsibility for it.”
“You couldn’t have been more than six at the time,” he said. “I know there were no children in the cab of that truck.”
“I’m Bridget Addison,” she said. “I am just younger now. When they put me to death, somehow I jumped into a different younger body, but I still remember what you did. I dreamed about it every night for twelve years, so I remember it like yesterday. I swore to kill you.” She pointed the gun and aimed it at the terrorist chest. She was going to shoot him, but she froze.
“Shoot him already, Angela,” said Derek.
It was too late really. She saw him coming and couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger. She couldn’t kill a man who killed two hundred forty children so easily. She only had a few seconds anyway before he charged at her.
Owl rushed forward and grabbed her wrist. He twisted the gun out of her hand and spun her around so he could stand behind her. She tried to cough, tried to breathe even, but he held his strong arm across her throat and squeezed. She felt her bowels give way and hoped that she could at least get changed before the terrorist killed her. She really didn’t want to be found with dirty diapers.
Derek picked up a piece of wood from the floor and advanced. “Let her go!”
“Don’t move, or your girlfriend’s brains will be spread across this shed.”
Derek dropped the stick and backed off. “Just don’t hurt her.”
Bridget still struggled to breathe, but the terrorist loosen his grip. It was still tight against her throat, but she could at least gasp for breath. As she did, she inhaled the scent of her accident.
“Really?” asked the terrorist. “It just takes being held at gun point to lose bowel control. You are not the same person who struggled with me to steer that truck out of the way of a building full of kids. Too bad you only steered it into another school. But you really don’t understand, do you? Thirty-five species go extinct every day. Every day! Do you know how many babies are born? People have too many children and are pushing out other animals. A new mall, and new housing development, a new Walmart, even a new school: they all push out native species which will go extinct.”
“You are a monster if you value animals over people,” said Bridget. “I shouldn’t have hesitated to kill you.”
“But you killed other people. How many people have breathing trouble because you drove around in a tanker truck and delivered oil? Oil is a great evil and you perpetuated it. Even the death of children didn’t make you repentant. You drive around in that big gas guzzler and flaunt your gas wasting ways. I should kill you now.”
“I didn’t kill those children; you did,” she said. “Even if my actions only changed the children you killed, you are still responsible for their deaths. I couldn’t even kill a murderer like you, let alone innocent children.”
Derek moved forward again. “Let my girlfriend go!” he said. “If you kill her, you will die,” he said.
Bridget twisted out of his arms and grabbed his gun hand and hung her weight on it, so the gun pointed toward the dirt floor.
“Bang!” The gun went off, but the bullet thudded harmlessly into the floor.
Bridget rolled away and scrambled underneath the table. She screamed as the terrorist raised the gun at Derek and pulled the trigger twice. “Bang! Bang!” He then turned the gun toward Bridget and started advancing at her, but Derek rushed the terrorist from behind and pushed him to throw off his aim before falling flat on his face.
Bridget pulled her hand over her face as Owl fell toward her. He reached out to the table to steady his grip and then started to twitch. The lights flickered on and off, on and off and there was the horrible smell of burned flesh. All she could hear was Owl’s screaming and an electrical buzzing sound. After what seemed like forever, but was less than a minute, the screaming, then the buzzing stopped.
“Angela, are you all right?” asked Derek.
She took her hands away from her eyes and saw Derek squatting and looking beneath the table at her. “I’m okay,” she said. She started to move to get out, but Derek shouted, “Wait, don’t move.” She froze.
She saw Derek unplug the power strip and unplug his iPhone. He then pushed Owl from the front of the table and reached down to lift Bridget up.
“What happened?” she asked. “I thought you got shot.”
“Well about that…,” he started. “Your terrorist friend fell into the electrocution device that they use to kill minks. I accidently turned it on when I plugged in the power strip to charge my iPhone. After the gun went off, I had to free you before he hurt you.”
“But you could have been killed,” she said.
“Well, only the first round was live.” He picked up the gun and opened the cylinder. Two of the four differently colored rounds were still not spent. The others were obviously fired. “I put four blanks in your gun.”
She punched him in the arm. “Why?” she asked angrily.
“I didn’t want you to go to jail. I thought you would shoot him when he already fell to the ground. That is not self defense and you would go to jail. We are on iffy grounds already.”
She looked around. The terrorist lay dead in front of the table. She felt smelly and gross in the poopy diaper she wore. The only thing she was really afraid of was going back to jail.
“Well no one got shot,” he said. “I am hiding the gun away and we also have signs to hide.”
They ran out to the driveway and pulled Bridget’s sign off the fence. She helped him carry it into the back of the pickup where they put it picture side down. Derek through the magnetic signs in the woods and hid the gun in the glove box. He shut the door and stood back. “Oh crap,” he said.
“What?” asked Bridget.
He pointed at the flat tires on the truck. “That bastard slashed my tires.”
“How will we get out of here?” asked Bridget.
“We aren’t,” said Derek. “We are going to call the police.” He took out his phone and called.
Bridget wrung her hands as he called.
“Police, someone came in and tried to attack me and my girlfriend.” He paused. “No, we are fine, but the assailant somehow electrocuted himself.” He paused again and hung up. “They are on the way,” he said. "Let’s wait in the shed for them.
It took only fifteen minutes until the police arrived. Bridget shivered, but she stood by Derek as he explained his version of what happened. “Well we are looking into fixing up the farmhouse and moving here when my girlfriend and I move in together,” he explained.
“Why were you in the shed?” asked the policeman.
“My iPhone died. The house has no electricity yet, so I went out to the shed. When I plugged it in, I plugged in that power strip and plugged the iPhone into that. We were in the shed waiting until it charged when the guy came in. He said he had a gun and I knew he was going to hurt Angela.”
“Did he have a gun?”
“Well, no,” admitted Derek. He put his hand in his pocket and pushed his finger to make it look like he had a gun in his jacket pocket. “He did this and I didn’t know if he had a gun or not so we just listened to him.”
“You did the right thing,” said the policeman.
“He then grabbed Angela and held her by the throat while he bragged that he killed a bunch of children in some school and killing her would be nothing. Angela panicked and twisted away and hid under the table, but he chased her. I tried to pull him away, but pushed him at the table instead and he landed with a hand in that machine.” He pointed at the electrocution machine. “As soon as I could get up, I pulled the plug on the power strip. I only touched him to get Angela out.”
“Is that what happened, Miss,” asked the police man.
“Yes,” she said.
He looked down at her waist and wrinkled his nose. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Can we go yet?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he said. He walked around her and looked at her bottom. “Are you sure you are all right?”
“I’m very uncomfortable,” she said. “I kinda had an accident and want a shower.”
“We’ll try to let you get away as soon as we can,” he said. That took another two hours. Another policeman came to question her.
“So then Derek pulled him away from the table to let me out,” she said.
“Have you seen this man before?” asked the man.
She hesitated, but decided the truth was better. “Yes,” she said. “He’s my college roommate’s uncle. He seemed nice Monday when he took me and my roommate to dinner. I didn’t know he would follow me out here and attack me though.”
“No one expects someone to attack them,” the policeman said. “I’d be more surprised if he was some stranger than someone you’ve met before. I’ve seen it happen many times.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that,” she said. “He even slashed my boyfriend’s tires.”
“Probably to keep you from getting away.” He turned to go back into the shed. “Sit here for now.” He left.
“So did it work?” asked Ogre. He had come by to pick them up since Derek’s truck tires were flat. Derek had managed to get the gun out of the truck and into Ogre’s car without the police noticing. It had helped that it was not open, but in its case before he called the police.
“Yes,” he said. “It worked like a charm. Once less tree spiker and justice for Fred Jones.”
“That’s Lia’s dad, right?” asked Bridget. She had to speak up because she was in the backseat with both windows open and only her duffle bag to keep her company.
“That is right,” said Ogre. “What I don’t understand is how you knew who he was. Derek said you told him more, but he couldn’t say.”
Bridget shrugged. “I really can’t go into it,” she said, “but I was him for another crime when I received evidence that he was involved in the tree spiking. I’m not who I said I was, but don’t worry. I am Angela Murphy now.”
“Okay,” said Ogre, “no questions then, except one. I don’t want to embarrass you, but can you smell a bit better next time we meet?”
Bridget felt her face burn. “I guess I can keep my pants clean if no one points a gun at my face or tries to nail me to a tree.”
It was Ogre’s turn to be embarrassed. “Good point,” he said. He pulled into the driveway at Derek’s house and the two of them got out. “Have a good time,” he said before driving away.
Bridget went inside for a much needed shower and then spending time with Derek. She had packed special panties for this night with Derek and she couldn’t wait.