A Second Chance in Paradise (19 page)

I wasn’t sure if I was
hit or not, but when I next heard Topper’s gun thud on the carpeted floor and then he went down, I knew he had taken one of his own bullets. As he lay there moaning, I dropped like a stone too. Down on my knees, leaning forward with my hands sliding – searching frantically all over the carpet like a desperate blind man, I scavenged for that gun. I couldn’t find the damn thing, but the second time one my hands hit Topper’s limp body he let out a wheeze. It didn’t sound good, not for him anyway. Then that wheeze turned into something else, a low, raspy, god-awful rattle. I knew that for the first time in my life I was hearing what’s known as “the death rattle.” Topper’s lights were out for good, and I couldn’t have cared any less. I was damn glad he was dead.

Still without the gun, I then
heard Blackburn’s heavy boots stomping up the marble steps. He was taking two at a time. Forget about racing, my heart was on the verge of splitting its rib cage wide open. Lurching up and toward the door in the same motion, I tried to jump over Topper’s body but didn’t quite make it. I
stumbled
over him. Fighting for my balance like a first time ice skater, I took two or three quick, clumsy half steps before managing to right myself. By that time I was standing right in front of the one French door that hadn’t been opened. On the other side of it, silhouetted by the dim light of the street lamp, I could now see Brock Blackburn coming.

Quickly, I scooted behind the open door and waited. About two seconds passed – the longest two of my life, then
Blackburn raised a boot inside the threshold. I drew in a deep breath, tensed my entire body, waited one more fraction of a second and then did it. Leaning into the edge of that door I slammed it with every ounce of strength I had.

It was perfect! There was a loud crash the whole neighborhood would have heard had they not been sleeping. Maybe I woke them, I didn’t know, all I did know was that the door nailed
Blackburn head-on. But something was wrong. Instead of tumbling back like I’d hoped he would the crazed monster kept coming. He crashed through the door’s glass panels as if they were made of Hollywood candy glass. He sounded like a car ramming into the plate glass windows of a Seven Eleven. With shards of glass raining into the dark house, all I could do was scrunch my eyelids closed, turn my face away, and lean harder and harder against that door.

Finally, with so much glass slicing into his face and body,
Blackburn roared like a tortured beast and stumbled back a few steps. Watching through a broken pane I saw him fall off the patio backwards. His muscled back made a sickening thud as he landed on the stone steps below. Like the roar of a mortally wounded elephant in excruciating pain, his bellow was so loud that the neighbors were now surely up and running for their robes. But Blackburn wasn’t mortally wounded. Two grunts later a shot rang out.

I
saw the yellow flash. Wood splintered the door frame mere inches above my head. Then there was another shot, and he hollered, “You fuckin’ hump, I’m coming for ya! And before I waste ya I’m gonna cut out your friggin’ eyes!”

Rising to his feet now – a lot faster than I thought humanly possible, there was no time to look for Topper’s gun. In no time at all
Blackburn was up those steps again and heading for me. I turned and darted toward the rear of the spacious greeting room. Back by the far wall there was something that felt like a huge metal vase or urn. Quietly as I could, I pulled it out a bit and hid behind it.

BANG! BANG! BANG! Three more shots rang out in
rapid succession! Still not feeling anything but raw fear, more of it than ever, I realized what Blackburn had shot at. In the darkness I heard his voice say, “Tough break
partner
!
 
I didn’t know it was you down there.”

I had to act fast. I came out from behind that metal thing, felt along the wall, and almost immediately found a door. It opened and I stepped inside.
Blackburn was still fumbling around in the dark too. I could hear his feet shuffling and something sliding along the walls – surely his blood-soaked hands feeling for a light switch. Then he found it and turned the rheostat all the way on.

Peeking out from the side of the doorway, I saw that a huge
glass chandelier had illuminated the whole sickening scene. Squinting now, as if I’d walked out of a movie theater into bright daylight, I saw Topper lying on the floor. His body full of blood. Then, at that very moment, with the stink of burnt gunpowder still permeating my nostrils, I heard something. It was the shrill of sirens! And they weren’t very far off in the distance. Monroe County Sheriff’s units were speeding toward the house. The cavalry was on its way, but I still had to somehow keep myself alive. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

“
I’ll get ya before they get here you bastard!” Blackburn hollered, as he plucked a sliver of sharp glass from his chin. Then he stormed toward the study door.

I slammed it closed and went to lock it, but that wasn’t going to happen. There was no lock, only a keyhole. With the sound of Blackburn’s Frankenstein-like steps quickly approaching the door, I scurried fast as I could across the study to a large mahogany desk I’d seen when the door had been open. I jerked the upholstered chair out hard enough so that it rolled back to the wall and I ducked beneath the desk. Then the door flew open and slammed into another wall.

Blackburn stood in the doorway for just a second; his eyes readjusting to the semi-darkness again. There wasn’t much I could do, but I had to do something. I sprung up, grabbed a brass bookend I’d seen from the top of the desk, and flung it at the zombie with all I had. I missed. Blackburn turned to where it hit the wall, looked back at me and said, “I’ve been waiting to get you alone,
Dad.
Merry Christmas!” Then he raised his gun.

I dropped to the floor behind the desk again and rolled franticly from side to side as two more shots rang out. Then there was a click! Then click, click, click! He was out of rounds, and I was up like a cat.

Grabbing the second bookend, I raced around the desk, charged Blackburn, and slammed the thing into his butchered face. There was a distinct “crack” as the cartilage in his nose split.

“
THAT ONE’S FOR BUSTER BELL!” I hollered loud as I could.

Dazed but still strong as two men, Blackburn pounced on
me like an alpha lion. We went down together, but
I
was on the bottom. Crashing back-first onto the floor with all his bulk landing smack on top of me the back of my head bounced up and our foreheads collided. Instantly, I felt dazed, as if I’d fallen face first onto a concrete sidewalk. But I couldn’t give up. Still face to bloody face with the raging cretin, he then took ahold of me. He bear hugged me so hard that my back was forced into an unnatural bend. The farther my spine bent into an inverted C the harder it became to breath. Fighting back the dizziness and pain, I struggled to hold onto my consciousness.

I tried
to stretch my arms around the madman, but he had my shoulders restrained in his death-grip. I was being crushed by a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound vice that kept tightening and tightening. My punches were futile, like little half swings. But then, with Blackburn’s snarling face so close to mine, I
just
managed to palm the sides of his grotesque face. I then extended my thumbs out as far as possible and plunged them into the killer’s eyes. I pushed with all the fading strength I could muster. Deeper and deeper and deeper I forced the spongy spheres down into their sockets. “AHHHHHHHH!” he finally roared, releasing his grip on me and jerking his head back to save his eyes. But he wasn’t finished.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH,” he howled, “I’M GONNA FINISH YA NOW!”

He leaned forward again, shoving my arms back to the floor, and planted two knees the size of dock pilings on my elbows. That was it. I was helpless. I had no chance.

In the light from the
doorway behind Blackburn, I saw him pull something from his hip. I couldn’t make out what it was at first, but when he raised it in his right hand, I saw it all too clearly. With that background light flashing from its blade my executioner yelled in a horrifying hoarse voice, “I’M TAKING YOUR  ... ”

But that was as far as he got.
At that very second an overhead light came on and Deputy Hansen G. Langford commanded, “STOP!  PUT THE KNIFE DOWN! DO IT NOW!”

Blackburn
spun his head around, looked over his shoulder, and shouted, “FUUUUCK YOUUUUUU!” Quickly turning back toward my terrorized face, he then drove the steel blade downward.

Three deafening shots went off in rapid succession
. With my ears ringing like panicky alarms, Deputy Langford’s first and third bullets struck home. The back of Blackburn’s head blew wide open, splattering bloody brain tissue and skull fragments everywhere. The torso of his massive body slammed forward, coming down face first – what was left of it, right at me. Still pinned down by Blackburn’s weight, I jerked my head to the side and braced myself. Then it was over.

I had to stay at Topper’s house for quite some time,
explaining everything to Langford and the homicide detectives. After that, in the pale rosy light of a Key West dawn, Langford put me in his squad car. They wanted to ask still more questions and have me sign some papers at the station. Sitting in the back seat as we pulled away, I turned to look at the yellow-taped crime scene one last time. All I could do was shake my head.

A few hours later
, just before 9:00 AM, I was released. As I stepped out of the interrogation room and into the lobby, I pushed the hair back from my dog-tired eyes and slowly walked toward the office where I’d been told I could arrange for a ride back to my van. The place was super busy. Male and female deputies were quick-stepping in all different directions. Accusers, and the accused, were coming and going as well. It seemed as if I had to dodge every one of them as I made my way across the wide room. But then, when I was about halfway to where I was going, I saw her. It was Julie. She was sitting alone on a long wooden bench by the entrance.

Exhausted
, but still alive and not defeated, I limped across the worn linoleum floor toward her. She stood up, and as I got closer I could not only see the tears welling up in her eyes, but I could feel them as well.

When I came up to her, she
flung her arms around me saying, “Don’t you
ever
do this to me again!”

I didn’t say anything. I just pulled her close. We clung to each other in that crowded stationhouse for a long, long moment. Then, with her still in my arms, Julie leaned back and looked at me. Those welled-up tears were streaming down her face by now, but she smiled when she said, “Buster’s going to make it, Sonny. The doctor called Pa a couple of hours ago and told him that he had regained consciousness. He’s going to be fine.”

Chills ran down both my arms as Julie leaned back up against me. Holding me even tighter this time, she laid a teary cheek against mine and said, “I dropped Pa off at the hospital then came right over here. I was worried sick about you. I didn’t sleep all night and couldn’t stand it any longer. When I got here, they told me what happened at Topper’s house, and that, thank God, you were alright.”

Gently, I lifted my cheek from hers. I looked at her, and suddenly everything seemed so clear. The deeper I looked into those caring brown eyes, the more answers I saw. I knew right then and there that it was time.

Slowly, I reached down and took her by the hand – her left hand. She looked at where they were joined and then back up at me. At long last I was content. I leaned toward her, kissed her damp cheek, smiled and said, “Come on Julie ... let’s go home.”

OTHER BOOKS BY TOM WINTON

Beyond Nostalgia

The Last American Martyr

Four Days with Hemingway’s Ghost

Within a Man’s Heart

The Voice of Willie Morgan and Two Other Short Stories