Payback Pt. 02

This is the second and last part of the story. Please read the first part to know what happened. In a quick sentence, Charlie Wilson, accountant, discovered that his wife, Pam, was having an affair with a big biker, nicknamed by Charlie as "Behemoth". Charlie was beaten and left unconscious in the dirt parking lot of the bar where he found Pam and Behemoth. He successfully got away after destroying a number of motorcycles and Pam's car. He had to run many of the bikers off the road on his way to the hospital where he spent a few days recovering from his wounds. Now he has to find a way to survive the retribution he knows is coming his way.

The next few days were uneventful. I actually went back to work but kept the "Judge" in my waistband just in case.

My phone started to go off again from an unknown number. It was Pam. She had a new number since I had shut hers off. For some strange reason she believed that we had just had a minor spat and I was overreacting. When I asked her how Behemoth was doing she acted like she didn't know who I was talking about. I guess I still didn't know the name of my attacker and she certainly couldn't relate to the name Behemoth. Finally I asked her about her biker buddy and she replied, "Steve is doing better but he might not ever walk or ride a motorcycle again." I almost lost it as I contemplated as Steve is not a name that strikes fear into a person. He must have a nasty biker name. She agreed. "His biker name is Grizzly." Now that was a name I could respect. Sorry all you Steve's out there but you have to agree with me about striking fear into someone.

She still wanted to know when I was coming home. I said, "Never!" She also wanted to know about the rent. I ended the phone call then and blocked the new number.

A couple of days later a motorcycle tried to follow me to my apartment from work. He was hard to ignore as he looked very out of place with his leathers, beard, and long hair in a traditional business area. I made sure to drive the opposite direction before losing him in heavy traffic. Unfortunately, I left a few irate drivers in my wake as I cut across three lanes of traffic to take a right, leaving the biker in the abandoned stack up lane before heading back the other direction to my apartment. I made sure the "Judge" was ready to lower his gavel on anyone who might successfully follow me to my new home.

The next day a different biker, just as stupidly dressed to make sure he stood out in a crowd, tried to follow me. After a moment's thought I led him to Pam's house. I had no idea if she was home since her car was in the junkyard but I counted on most of Behemoth's friends not knowing where she lived and assuming this was my home base. I parked in the driveway and stayed in the truck until biker drove by nonchalantly. I then backed out and headed the opposite direction.

No one bothered me that night and I actually slept a little better. I must be healing but man those bruises were looking nasty as they healed.

The next morning a couple of cops stopped in at work and asked me about my whereabouts the night before. I had no alibi as I had slept alone after eating my single meal in my apartment. When I asked why the questions I wasn't surprised about the answer. "Your wife," he paused to look at her name on his notebook, "Pam Wilson, reported that someone vandalized her house last evening while she was visiting a friend in the hospital. She claims it must have been you as you are presently estranged for, and I quote, a misunderstanding."

"Did you notice the for sale sign in the front yard?"

He nodded. I continued. "I am selling the house. Can you tell me why I would damage the property and reduce its value if I am trying to get the best deal from a buyer?" He couldn't answer. I brought him up to speed. "My wife is having an affair with the guy she was visiting in the hospital. He is the one responsible for all the bruises on my face. Would you like to see my ribs or kidney area?" He shook his head. "Well, for your information the asshole put me in the hospital for two days after severely beating me. If I had not snuck away, he was intending on continuing the beating when I woke up. My wife, the bitch, egged him on and laughed at my puny attempt to protect myself. His friends blame me for the fact he and some of his other biker buds ended up in an accident. If I was investigating this crime, I would go and talk to Steve, her boyfriend, and see what he has to say about the vandalism."

"Well, Sir, this puts a little different light on the subject. As a matter of fact, your neighbors reported that a group of very loud motorcycles were in your driveway last evening. We just had to check on her story of what happened."

I nodded this time. "I would imagine that her boyfriend and his cronies have no idea where she lives. I was there for a short time yesterday evening to pick up some more of my belongings. Maybe one of them followed me and made the assumption that I still lived there."

After they left, I called Mike. "Just to let you know, last night Pam's house was vandalized. I still have the homeowner's insurance on it so I need estimates of the damage for insurance purposes. Please let Pam know she will have to get renter's insurance now."

He laughed out loud. "Couldn't happen to a nicer person. I talked to her yesterday and she is still balking about the lease agreement. I will drop by with a member of law enforcement and let her know it is up to her to keep the house in livable condition once any current damage is repaired. I take it that you are not responsible for her discomfiture?"

"No, I have nothing to do with it. For the last few days, a couple of bikers, I imagine friends of Behemoth, have been trying to follow me. I led yesterday's dumb shit by Pam's house. I am sure the damage was due to a mistaken identity. The police are investigating and have questions for her boyfriend, Steve Something-Or-Other."

He chuckled again and later I was told I had a call from an unknown person. Yep, it was Pam. "Short and sweet, Bitch, what do you want? Why did you try to sic the cops on me? What would make you assume I would damage a property I am trying to sell? Are you taking stupid pills now?"

That kind of set her back a little. I heard a gulp and then she spoke in a conciliatory manner. "Charlie, I am sorry. Since you are mad at me, I immediately thought you might have done the damage. After the cops left, I called Steve and asked him. He admitted some of his friends might have been looking for retribution. You hurt a lot of the guys and damaged a lot of motorcycles."

"I hurt someone? Who and how did I hurt someone? I was the one lying face down in the dirt after your fucking asshole boyfriend beat me unconscious. Yeah, I stopped them from pursuing me, but I don't know how you can say I hurt anyone. I was the one who ended up in the hospital."

"Steve and the others know it was you who ran them off the road. They were just trying to stop you from going to the cops. You didn't have to kill and maim anyone."

"Jesus, will you listen to yourself. I repeat. I was the one beat unconscious in that parking lot and your fucking boyfriend had people watching to see when I woke up so he could come out and finish the job he started. You stood there and cheered the shithead on. You relished my beating, you fucking slut. Now his fucking friends have trashed your house and you tried to blame that on me, also. Keep taking those stupid pills. You will be turning tricks to support Behemoth soon."

She tried to blubber on that it was all my fault. I told her to shut up and listen. "Mike will be around sometime today to look at the damage and make a report for the insurance company. After the claim is settled I will only insure the dwelling as it is a rental now, not a private dwelling. You will have to get renter's insurance."

"But this is our home, not a rental. Why are you doing this?"

"Before I take the Lord's name in vain again, I need to take a deep breath. What part of your cheating and throwing away our marriage do you NOT UNDERSTAND? This is all on you. I was content to support you and keep you happy, but YOU decided to go to the cheating side of town and start a relationship with another man. You sicced him on me when I was trying to leave. You egged him and his fucking friends on. This IS ALL ON YOU!"

I ended the phone call and tried to get on with the rest of my day. My ribs were hurting from the deep breaths I had to take to try and calm down. My face ached and was actually itching from the healing skin from all of the abrasions and I was pissed as hell.

It continued on as I was leaving work. When I exited the parking lot another biker was waiting. He didn't even try to be circumspect. He just got a couple of cars behind me and stayed there. I drove out of town toward Centerville and proceeded at a sedate speed. Just as I got to the edge of the city, I suddenly jumped on a side street and made some quick turns. He had to close the gap to keep up with me. That's when I slammed on the brakes and turned the Power Wagon sideways in the street. It was a narrow street with cars parked on either side. It left him with little room to maneuver and his bike was too big to do a slide and turn like a dirt bike. I jumped out and pulled the Judge from my holster.

He got a very sick look on his face as I held the pistol up just enough to let him know I meant business but not lined up on his chest to pose a deadly threat.

He tried to bluff. "Hey, Mister, I don't know what your beef is but I just want to get to my home down the street. Why the sudden stop and the gun?"

"Oh, Buddy, I don't buy that for a second. You have followed me since I left work. We are now forty miles from wherever you think is your home. There is no warning for you and your friends. I am done being nice. You fucked up last week and watched Grizzly beat me down. Some of your friends paid the ultimate price for trying to run me down. Others are still healing from that attempt. Last night you vandalized Grizzly's girlfriend's house thinking you had me cold. And now, you are sitting there, without any friends or backup, just about begging me to drop you like a bad habit. I don't know how much more stupid you can get. One shot from this gun and you are lying there in the street with a huge hole in your chest and your life pumping out onto the concrete. You will live long enough to know that you are dying and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it."

He started to bluster again but stopped as I cocked the Judge. "I told you, no more warnings. If you survive the next few minutes, I hope you go back to your buddies and tell them how serious I am. I will tell the DA and the cops I felt threatened by you. I have sworn out an Order of Protection from you and your friends as I believe my life is in danger." [I actually had not but he didn't know that.] "I will plead self defense if it even comes to court. Somehow, I don't believe there are too many people who would care if I put a couple of you dirtbags down. Shit, maybe I will get a humanitarian award for removing you and your fucking friends from the gene pool."

I took another step forward. Now to really put the screws to him. "Look around. Do you see anyone paying attention to what is going on in this street right now? The good people of this neighborhood probably heard your beast and don't want to get involved. Do you hear any sirens? The cops either don't know about us standing here or don't care enough to intervene." He did look around. There was no one on the street even though it was early evening and the weather was mild.

I casually clicked the cylinder two stops. He got an even ghastlier look on his face. I was only five or six feet away from him when I pulled the Judge up and shot out his headlight with a .410 shell with bird shot in it. There was no penetration through the headlight assembly and I was too close for the pattern to spread enough to hit him. I do think he crapped his pants though. "Now, I would get this fucking piece of shit turned around and headed home. Darkness is coming quick and you have no headlight. I might be following you and somehow I don't think you would fare well in a collision in the dark."

He nodded and did the multi turn it took to get his ride pointed in the other direction and took off like a scalded dog. I waited until he turned the corner before going back to the truck and heading toward the downtown area for a bit before heading on home. I did keep a close eye on traffic as biker dude may have called his buddies and told them where to find me.

I got back to my apartment and parked the truck out behind the building, as I always did, before carefully making my way in. I had replaced the empty cartridge with another .410 shell but this one had slugs. No more Mister Nice Guy.

The rest of my evening and night were uneventful. I wish I could say that it stayed that way and that some kind of common sense reigned in the bike world but the truce only lasted a month or so until Stevie boy got out of the hospital.

That fateful night started out with me again checking my mirror often as I drove a meandering way to my apartment. I couldn't see anyone following me, so I relaxed a little and headed to my new home. I parked behind the building, as usual, and was soon eating my previously frozen meal while watching some evening football. It was getting late in the season so there wouldn't be many night games during the week soon.

The game was just getting over and I was contemplating the softness of my bed when there was a sudden banging on my apartment door. The accompanying tirade that was only slightly muffled let me know Steve now knew where I lived. I turned on the video recorder on my phone and then called 911. Isn't it grand how the new phones can multitask? I asked for law enforcement and that I was afraid for my life. The dispatcher could hear the yelling through the phone. She assured me that help was on the way.

At first, I contemplated opening the door and letting Behemoth in but decided that might look like entrapment to the police. I decided to wait for him to break the flimsy door down. I was standing with the "Judge" up and ready with the hammer cocked when the door finally popped open with such force that one hinge was pulled from the frame. Steve, AKA Grizzly, rushed in with a grin on his face. "Well, Shithead, it's about time for you to pay for your fuckup." His hands were raised to rain down destruction on me again. The stupid fuck didn't even look at the gun in my hand.

I slammed two shots into his chest. I don't know what else he was going to say but his hands dropped to his chest and he got a strange wondering look on his face. His momentum kept him coming at me. I sidestepped him and looked at the door. A couple of his biker friends were coming in, I suppose to help kill me with their bare hands. I didn't let them get the chance. They each received a single shot center mass. They went down. Those slugs have very good stopping power. I just wished that it was like the movies and their bodies would have been slammed against the doorway but they just dropped and started groaning and begging for help.

I went back to my phone and told the dispatcher to get two or three ambulances coming as I had just shot multiple attackers in my house. As I was talking to her, I was reloading the "Judge". His job might not be done yet. I started to relax a little as I started hearing sirens and then the roar of motorcycles exiting the parking lot. I guess Steve's friends didn't want to be interviewed about why they were sitting outside my apartment.

Neither of the two extra bikers I had taken down looked good but they were breathing and crying in pain. I guess I must have hit them in the abdomen. Steve, though, was gasping for air and there were bloody bubbles appearing in the wounds in his chest. He wasn't defeated though. He gasped out some invectives in a hoarse whisper. I brought the phone close so the microphone might be able to record some of it. "You bastard. Why didn't you just roll over and die when I kicked your ass? You stupid fuck, she belongs to me now."

"I told her to tell you, you stupid fuck, that if I saw you first, I would avoid you but if you came for me then I would put you down like a rabid dog. Apparently stupid people don't learn the lessons presented to them. I sincerely hope your other friends learn the fucking damn lesson before I bring my friends in. You think you are bad?" I shut off the recorder function just before I spoke so the rest of our final conversation wouldn't be admissible. I leaned in close to his ear so he could understand me well. "I have friends that won't make a public statement of what the lack of worth your bad-ass friends are. They will just disappear. Their bikes will be chopped up and sold. Their families will have many questions but there won't be any answers, just the mental image of a dark hole in the ground where no one will ever find them."

Later his two compatriots would not be able to testify as to what I said. Right about then Steve decided to give up the ghost and look his last breath. I can't really say if he understood what I told him, but I was prepared to repeat the lesson if needed.

The cops arrived and I made sure they understood I posed no threat by kneeling on the floor with the "Judge" open and shells exposed on the floor in front of me. I had my hands behind my head but my eyes were still on the two lying on the floor in case they suddenly got brave. The first cop held his gun on us all while I was handcuffed. Then the other two were cuffed even though they posed no threat right then. I guess everyone is a suspect until it is all sorted out.

A quick search by one of the cops revealed knives and pistols being carried by both bikers. Even Behemoth was armed with a pistol and brass knuckles when they examined his body.

The boys from the ambulances were soon on the scene and took the two bikers out post haste as they were starting to look a little gray in the face. The two next arriving cops rode with them to Centerville to the Trauma Center. Man, I was responsible for a lot of business there these past few months since this had all started.

The cops interviewed me on the scene after reading my Miranda rights. I had them call an attorney that I knew and then gave them my statement. I held nothing back this time. They grabbed my phone and also radioed the dispatcher to time stamp the recording of the 911 call for review as evidence. On my phone were also selfies of some of my injuries from the beating Behemoth had laid on me along with all those messages and phone calls from my erstwhile wife. I figure the DA would have a field day with them all.

They took me to the station and booked me on manslaughter, use of a firearm in the city limits, and aggravated assault. The detective that reinterviewed me told me that additional charges might be leveled at me before it was all done. Then my new attorney showed up and the questions ceased for a while.

The next morning I was let out on my own recognizance as the papers and news teams had gotten hold of the story and painted it as a man who was being persecuted by bad actors and had finally put the stop to it. The DA was getting more than a few phone calls demanding that I be released and he apparently agreed. I was told, though, that charges were still hanging over my head and that all my guns had been taken into evidence until everything was settled.

I wasn't too worried. I had friends who would rearm me in a moment. The DA did let me know that Pam was singing a different tune than the story I had sworn to. It appears that, according to her, Steve had sought me out to ask me to become his accountant and that he wanted to let bygones be bygones. I had to laugh at that. What a fairy tale! The DA told me that the recordings told a different story and hoped that the violence would now die down a little. I just nodded at him as I left the police station.