Justice Ch. 01: Amos and Andrea

"What do I have to do?" she asked.

"Call Shithead right now and end it," I said. "Then tell him you quit. You're a good secretary, you can find work pretty much anywhere." She pulled out her cell phone and called him, putting the call on speaker.

"Hey, baby," Roscoe said when he answered. "We still on for tomorrow night?" She said nothing for a few seconds, but as she looked up at me, I saw her face change again and knew the bitch was back. She smiled, but her smile held no warmth.

"Yeah, we're still on," she said with an evil smirk.

"Good," Roscoe said. "How's the cuck taking it?"

"Not good," she said. "But he'll get over it." Roscoe laughed.

"Maybe I'd better bring some of the boys along just to keep him in line," he said. Andrea chuckled.

"Yeah, do that," she said.

"Alright, see ya tomorrow evening," he said before hanging up. She sneered as she looked back at me.

"You're in for a hot time tomorrow night," she said. "And you better be on your best behavior." I nodded my head. I knew what lay ahead and my conscience was now clear. I had given her one final chance and she crapped all over it. I blew a cloud of smoke in her face. Her reaction reminded me of those old vampire movies where the evil creature gets exposed to sunlight.

"So," she said after she composed herself. "You want me for one last night? This is it. After tonight, you won't get any of this pussy ever again." I shook my head.

"I already told you I'm not touching you as long as you're fucking him," I said. "In fact, if you were on fire, I wouldn't piss on you to put it out." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Have it your way," she said, going back inside. I slept in the guest room, putting a chair against the door to keep her out. I woke up early the next day, got dressed and left for work without saying a word to the bitch.

It seemed like the day just dragged, but it finally came to an end. I knew what was going to happen tonight and I wasn't looking forward to it at all. I got home, put my briefcase in my home office and grabbed a beer. Andrea was making dinner, but I had no desire to eat anything she fixed.

"You might as well eat something," she said. "You're going to need your strength tonight. Roscoe and the boys will be here in an hour or so." I grabbed a beer from the fridge and looked at what she had made.

"I'm not hungry," I said. "Besides, how do I know you haven't poisoned my dinner?"

"Come on, Amos," she said. "You think I'd do that to you?"

"Hell yes," I said. I put my hand in my jacket and found another cigarette and a match. "I'm going on the porch for a smoke," I added before I left. She followed me outside.

"I don't like that you're smoking again," she said. I lit the cigarette and took a long drag.

"I frankly don't give a fuck what you like or don't like anymore, bitch," I said. "I don't like that you're fucking around on me, but I don't have a say in that, do I?" She stood defiant for a moment, then shook her head and went back inside. After she left, I went over what Justice and I had planned out, screwing up my courage for the showdown that would be happening soon.

It took an hour for me to finish the cigarette -- don't ask me to explain it. Afterward, Andrea came back outside to tell me Roscoe and his buddies were here.

"Go upstairs and wait for us," she said. I nodded my head and walked upstairs. I saw she had placed a chair so I could have a good view of their activity in the bed and I noticed the video camera she had placed in one corner. I could hear them all talking downstairs and soon, I could make out two people climbing the stairs.

Andrea came in first, followed by Roscoe. The big man smirked as he held out his hand. The bastard expected me to shake his hand! After he realized I wasn't going to shake it, he nodded his head and kissed Andrea deeply.

"Well," he said, looking back at me. "You ready to get the show on the road?"

"What, is this where I'm supposed act all dejected and suck you off or something?" I asked. They laughed.

"Well, if that's what you want," Andrea said.

"No, it's not what I want, but what I want doesn't matter, does it?" I asked.

"I'm detecting a bit of hostility," Roscoe said. "Maybe the boys ought to come up and give you an attitude adjustment."

"What, you too chicken to do your own dirty work?" I asked. "Let me make this simple so even a moron like you can understand." I could tell he was getting angry. Good, I thought. I pulled off my wedding ring and crammed it in his shirt pocket. Both he and Andrea looked at me, shocked. This wasn't the reaction they had expected.

"You want the slimy cunt?" I asked Roscoe. "You can have the slimy cunt. Trust me, she's very high maintenance and if she doesn't immediately get her way, she turns into a real bitch. Oh, she'll act all lovey-dovey for the first few years, but she'll be screwing around on you before long. Enjoy. I hope it works out better for you than me. Now, you came here to fuck the no-good cunt. Get to it. And no, I won't beg or cry or put your dick in her. I assume you're smart enough to handle that by yourself."

Andrea wasn't expecting this reaction and she looked at me, shocked. Roscoe's face turned red with rage and he began moving toward me. He stopped just as a large dark shadow moved into the doorway. I looked and saw Justice, his hat nearly scraping the ceiling. Except for two balls of fire where his eyes should've been, he was completely dark and I could only make out his outline.

"Who the fuck are you?" Roscoe asked. "And how'd you get past my boys?"

"My name is Justice," the tall shadowy man boomed. "And I'm taking you in." Out of nowhere, he produced a lariat and with a flick of his wrist, sent it over the two surprised cheaters. As he pulled the rope tight, it erupted in flame, causing them to scream. Suddenly, the room vanished.

...

The sun burned high in the clear blue sky and it took a while for me to adjust to the brightness. As I did, I noticed that Justice and I were in the middle of a dusty street. A few buildings lined the street, reminding me of an old western town. There was no other life on the street, except for a horse tied to a hitching post in front of a saloon across the street.

I took inventory and realized the khakis and dark polo shirt I had worn home from work was gone. I was dressed much like Justice, except for the thick poncho over my shoulders. I also noticed I had a pair of Civil War-era cap and ball revolvers in holsters on either side of my hip. The holsters were both tied down to my legs.

"Where are we?" I asked Justice.

"In the middle of the street," he said matter-of-factly.

"I can see that," I said. "But where?" He shrugged his shoulders.

"Does it really matter?" he asked.

"I guess not," I said. He nodded to the saloon.

"They're in there, waiting for ya," he said. He looked at me intently. "You ready to do what needs doin'?" I took a deep breath and nodded my head.

"I am," I said. He nodded his head.

"Good," he said. "I'll be right there with ya. Just keep calm and take it one step at a time." I nodded my head and we walked toward the saloon. When we got there, I opened the swinging doors and looked inside. Roscoe and Andrea were sitting at a round table by the far wall. A lit kerosene lamp sat in the middle of the table and each had a shot of liquor in front of them.

I looked and saw Roscoe's "Three Amigos," standing against the wall, waiting for Roscoe's orders. All five of them wore period clothing and Roscoe's three thugs were all armed with holstered pistols. I walked in the saloon and stood a few feet from the table. Justice entered and stood close to the door, watching our movement. Roscoe and Andrea were deep in a secret discussion but stopped when I walked in. Roscoe sneered as he looked at me.

"Who're you supposed to be, cuck? Clint-fucking-Eastwood?" he quipped. Andrea giggled and the three sidekicks sneered. Roscoe turned to his three goons. "Why don't you boys take the trash out so the little lady and I can have some privacy?"

They moved forward and I saw two of them reach for the guns in their holsters. I knew I had to act quickly, so I reached down with my right hand and drew a pistol. Fanning the trigger the way I had seen in the movies, I fired three quick shots, one at each of Roscoe's goons.

When the smoke cleared, I saw all three of them on the floor, their blood soaking into the wooden planks. Two of them had managed to draw their weapons before I shot them. I aimed my pistol at Roscoe.

"You killed those men," Andrea said, shocked.

"That's right," I growled. "And lover-boy's next."

"No, please," Roscoe begged, his hands out in front of him. "We can work this out like men. You don't have to kill us."

"That's right, Amos," Andrea begged. "Please, no more. I'm sorry. Really, I am. C'mon, honey, we can work this out."

"You had your chance last night, bitch," I said. "And you chose this piece of shit over me."

"Look, Amos, this was just supposed to be all in fun, you know," Roscoe begged. "Please don't kill me, I'm begging you."

"Begging?" I asked. "You know, Justice, I think your friend was right when he said no man in the wrong can stand up to a man in the right." I noticed a large wet spot in the crotch of Roscoe's trousers and laughed. "Looks like you hitched your wagon to a real loser, bitch," I said, addressing Andrea. "Look at him. He just pissed his pants. Is that your idea of a 'man?'" Andrea looked down at the floor, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Look, Amos, you can't kill me," Roscoe pleaded. "I don't even have a gun. You can't kill an unarmed man. It just ain't right."

"Actually, I can," I told him. "But I'll give you more of a chance than you were willing to give me." I pulled the second pistol out of its holster and put it on the table in front of him. "Go ahead," I said. "Pick it up." He looked at me, then at the pistol.

"What?" he asked, standing halfway up.

"I said, FILL YOUR HAND, YOU SONOFABITCH!" I yelled. Did I really just say that, I asked myself. I remembered the line from an old movie, and it just seemed... right, somehow. Roscoe looked at the pistol, then slowly picked it up.

"That's right," I said. "Now pull the hammer back. All the way back." He struggled with the weapon and finally got the hammer all the way back. "Now, point it," I said, still holding my pistol on him. By now, though, I had cocked the hammer back and was ready to fire. As I watched, he lifted the pistol, his hand shaking. When the time was right, I pulled the trigger. Then I cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger two more times in rapid succession.

The first two rounds hit him square in the chest and the third went right between his eyes, blowing off the back part of his cranium. His eyes opened wide in shock from the first two bullets, his body slammed against the wall behind him. After a second, he fell on the edge of the table, flipping the tabletop the way I had seen in so many movies.

When the tabletop flipped up, the kerosene lantern overturned, spilling the flammable liquid on the table and onto Andrea's dress. The flame from the wick ignited the kerosene, which in turn, caught Andrea's dress on fire. Trapped under the edge of the heavy tabletop, she began screaming as the flames engulfed her.

"Amos!!" she screamed. "Help me!! It burns!! Please!!" A few seconds later, she, Roscoe and his three goons disappeared in a puff of smoke. I picked up the pistol I had given Roscoe and placed them both back in their holsters. I had to clench my fist to keep from shaking. I had never killed a man before in my life, yet I had just killed four men and watched as Andrea burned.

I turned to Justice, who had a look of grim determination on his face.

"Where did they go?" I asked.

"Someplace really warm," he said.

"Are they really dead?" I asked him. He nodded his head.

"Yes," he said. "You do know it was either them or you. You had no choice. Is this the first time you ever killed a man?" I nodded my head.

"Yeah," I said. "You ever kill anyone?" I asked him. He got a strange faraway look in his eye.

"More than I care to remember," he said. "But like you just now, I had no choice. It was either kill or be killed. You know if you had hesitated, they would've killed you." Deep down, I knew he was right. "Worse thing you can do right now is agonize over it or try to second-guess yourself. Just go on with your life. It'll get better with time. Trust me," he said, patting me on the shoulder.

We walked outside and ended up next to the horse tied up at the hitching post.

"Oh, before I forget," he said. "I have something to give ya." He reached in a saddlebag and pulled out a small rectangular metal case and handed it to me. I looked at the tarnished case and saw the initials, "EJ" engraved on the front. Turning it over, I saw an inscription that read, "To my dearest Elijah. May God keep you safe and bring you back to your one true love. Your loving wife, Elizabeth."

"Where did you get this?" I asked.

"Yer grandpa Elijah gave that to me just before he died," Justice said, not looking at me. How could that be, I asked myself. Elijah Jones died in the latter part of the Civil War, over 150 years ago. I looked at the back of Justice's head and it suddenly came to me. I KNEW who this man really was. "He'd be mighty proud if you kept that for him," Justice said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"I will, Grandpa," I said without thinking. "Thanks for trusting me." Justice turned to me, a small smile on his face. "Did something like this happen to you and Grandma Elizabeth?" I asked. He nodded his head.

"Yeah," he said. "A long time ago. In a little place very much like this. Some rustlers thought they could steal my pa's cattle and take my wife. I had to teach 'em the same lesson you taught them boys a while back. That was the first time I ever killed a man. Took a while to get over it. Lizzy made it out okay, though. We went back east and I joined the Army shortly afterward. You know the rest."

"So, what happened?" I asked. "How did you become 'Justice'?"

"That's a long story, pardner," he said. "I'll tell ya about it one day, I promise."

"Will I ever see you again?" I asked. He nodded his head.

"Count on it, son," he said. "After the way you handled those fellas, I got no choice but to deputize ya. Besides, you owe me a beer," he added with a smile.

"Yes, sir," I told him, smiling. He extended his hand and I shook it. As we shook hands, he wrapped his other arm around me and hugged me.

"I love ya, son," he whispered. "And I'm damned proud of you."

"I love you too, Grandpa," I said, my eyes watering. He stepped back and got up on his horse. "Tell Grandma Elizabeth I said hello," I told him. He looked down at me and smiled.

"You just did," he said. "And she says to tell you hello right back." He smiled, winked, then touched the brim of his hat. "See ya around, son," he said as he spurred his horse forward. I watched as he rode down the dusty road and disappeared from sight. The next thing I knew, I was back in my living room, my head reeling.

I looked at myself and saw I was wearing my work clothes instead of the old western outfit I had just a few minutes ago. I felt something in my pocket and pulled it out -- it was the old cigarette case Justice, or rather, my Grandpa Elijah, just gave me. I opened it and saw one side was packed with his hand-rolled cigarettes and a picture was on the other side.

I looked at the picture and saw it was one of Elijah and Elizabeth. As I studied the photo carefully, I could clearly see the resemblance between Elijah and Justice. There was no question in my mind who Justice really was. I turned the photo over and saw a brief inscription scribbled on the back: "To Amos, All our love. Grandpa Elijah and Grandma Elizabeth."

I put the photo back, stunned. How would I explain this to my parents? I realized the truth was I couldn't say anything about any of this to anyone. For starters, no one would believe me. I realized I hadn't eaten in hours and I was starving.

Going in the kitchen, I looked at the cold meatloaf Andrea had made and tossed it down the garbage disposal. I pulled out a couple pieces of cold leftover pizza and tossed them in the microwave. After I ate, I began packing up all of Andrea's things. By the time I was done it was late and I was exhausted.

I slept fitfully, dreaming of men in blue and gray uniforms killing each other. I also saw Andrea burning in one scene after another. The next morning, I got up, drank a cup of coffee and did my usual weekend chores, which included mowing the yard. Part of me missed Andrea, but a huge part of me felt relieved that I wasn't being bombarded with her non-stop bitching and cheating.

By the end of the day, I had some semblance of a plan. Naturally, I couldn't tell anyone what really happened to Andrea, so I decided to visit the police the next day to file a missing person's report. I knew they wouldn't do anything unless I had waited for a reasonable amount of time. I made a note to call an attorney and find out how long I had to wait to file for a divorce based on desertion, since I knew no one would ever find Andrea.

The next day, I went to the police station and filed a missing person's report. The desk sergeant took my report, read it, then asked to wait a few minutes. I sat down and waited for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, a man in a suit came up to me.

"Amos Jones?" he asked. I nodded my head. "I'm Detective Smith. Do you have a few minutes? I'd like to discuss your missing person's report." I followed him into a room and watched as he put out a recording device.

"Mr. Jones," he said. "I noticed you said your wife left with Roscoe Jennings and three other men Friday night. You say you haven't seen them since, is that right?"

"That's right," I said. What else could I say?

"One of the three men with Roscoe was an undercover police officer," he said. "He's also gone missing and no one can locate him. Were you aware that your wife was having an affair with Mr. Jennings?"

"I found out earlier in the week," I said. He nodded his head.

"Do you own a gun?" he asked.

"No, I don't," I said, which was true. I didn't own a gun, but had considered buying one.

"You know, we usually look at the husband closely when something like this happens," he said. "Would you mind if we searched your house?"

"No, not at all," I said. I had nothing to hide. Well, except for maybe shooting three men, but what was I going to say, 'I shot Roscoe and your officer in an alternate dimension?'

"We'll be in touch, and I'd appreciate it if you remained available," he said as he started to get up.

"Detective," I said. "Was my wife involved in something illegal?"

"That's what we were trying to find out," he said. "I can't go into the specifics, but we've been watching Mr. Jennings for quite a while."

"I see," I said. He shook my hand and left. I went back home and sure enough, several police officers came by and did a thorough search. They found nothing, except for my wedding ring, which had rolled under my bed somehow.

After they left, I put the bags holding Andrea's things in my car and drove to her parents house. I told them about her cheating and informed them that she had left with her lover Friday night and hadn't returned. They were shocked when I told them.

"Do you have any idea where she might be?" Andrea's mother asked. What could I say? That she's burning in Hell? I shook my head instead.

"No idea," I said. "But it doesn't matter. I'll be filing for divorce anyway."

"I understand, son," her father, Jack, told me. "Please let us know if you hear anything." I promised I would, then left. My parents were just as devastated as Andrea's and offered to help in any way they could, but I knew there was nothing they could do.