Real Life Tragedy

Max's mind focused on one image as his words came out. "A wet spot."

"A what? A wet spot? Oh Jesus!"

Silence returned and both men stared out the front of the car.

Minutes later Ed spoke. "What are you going to do?"

"I've thought a lot about it since... since I found... it," Max stammered. "I haven't been able to think straight. One minute I'm calm and rational and the next I'm screaming and beating on the steering wheel. Nothing makes sense. I can't think straight. The only thing I'm absolutely sure of is if I saw her right now I'd probably do something stupid. I need to get away and have some time alone to think. Maybe I can figure out what to do and maybe I can't. Either way I've just got to get away."

Ed put his hand out and touched his brother's arm. Max never moved.

Finally Ed spoke. "Listen, why don't you hole up in the spare room in the loft over the office? There's an old bed up there and you'd be close by so I can keep an eye on, uh, things. I'll bring you some food and we can take some time out of the day to talk, when you're ready of course. And you won't be too far from home in case you want to talk to Virginia."

"Yeah, but what am I going to tell... her?"

"Shit man, you can't even say her name you're so fucked up! Don't worry about it, I'll call her tonight and say we've got to pull an all-nighter to get some job done or some bullshit like that. I'll cover for you and I won't let on that you think something's up."

"You'd do that for me?" Max said, his expressionless face breaking just a bit.

"Absolutely, you're my little brother, we're family. I'd do anything for you man."

After a minute Max reached forward, turning the key to start the car. Ed patted his brother on the shoulder and got out.

********

In the morning Ed found his little brother curled up in the fetal position on top of the old bed in the loft over the office. The junk normally stored on top of the bed now sat on the floor in the corner and from somewhere clean sheets draped over the mattress. A small table from downstairs sat next to the bed with Max's wallet and keys on top.

"Hey Max, come on, wake up," Ed said in his best fake cheery voice. "Breakfast."

Max stirred, rubbed his eyes, and inhaled the aroma of the coffee Ed set on the table. When he finally got out of bed and relieved himself the smell of food overwhelmed him. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Just then he realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday and at the same time realized what had happened since then. Suddenly all the pain and images flooded back into his head. Breakfast didn't smell so good now.

Every thirty minutes or so Ed poked his head into the loft to see if his brother was still alive. He was. Mostly he sat on the bed or at the table with his head in his hands rubbing his temples. Ed left him alone to think. At noon Ed brought up a couple sandwiches and a bottle of water. He didn't say anything, just set the food down and left.

Around two o'clock Ed poked his head in the loft again. "Hey there. I just want to let you know that I've got to make a run over to the Heywood Apartments project. It seems like one of the boneheads miscounted the number of shrubs they need and I've got to take a dozen more over right away. I'll be back in a half hour. Are you going to be okay while I'm gone?"

Max turned to look at his brother and shook his head 'yes' then turned back to his worries.

Max heard the truck pull out of the lot with his brother in it and noticed the light on his cell phone blinking. The number was George's.

"Hello?" Max said.

"Hi Max, it's me, George. Listen you asked me to watch your place and call you when Virginia came home during the day again. Well, she just pulled in the driveway a minute ago. And Max, I'm sorry to say this but she wasn't alone. There was some guy with her. Sorry about that Max."

"Okay thanks George. Don't do anything, just sit tight. I'll be there in a bit."

More gravel spewed up behind his car as he tore out of the parking lot, more speed laws were broken, and more pain in his head and heart beat him down as he drove. Max had no plan other than to stop his wife from doing what he knew she was doing.

Her car was in the driveway when he pulled up behind it. Old George stood on the front porch and waved but Max never saw him. Max wasn't trying to be quiet; he just opened the front door and walked in. That's when he heard it.

"Uh! Uh! Uh! God yes. Harder. Oh my God! Oh my God! Yes! Harder!"

Max immediately knew his wife's voice. He froze. He couldn't move another step. He stopped frozen like a marble statue in the living room as her pleasure noises filled the house.

"Oh yes! Yes! Yes! That's the spot. That's it. Right there. Harder. God yes, harder!"

Max fell to his knees and put his hands over his ears hoping to shut out the tsunami of sounds invading his mind. He tried to scream but the sound wouldn't come out as he knelt on the floor looking like the Edvard Munch painting. The torture continued unabated crushing Max's mind in its wake.

"Fuck me harder. Fuck me. That's it. That's it. I'm almost there. Just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

Max's scream face disappeared, his hands falling to his sides. Gone was the silent scream. In its place was the marble statue expressionless face. His eyes had no lights behind them. His mind was gone, and so was his soul.

The lid of the pressure cooker just blew off.

He was on automatic. He didn't have the conscious will to move but his body did what it did without control. Max walked into the little cubby-hole of a room he called his study and took a box down from the top shelf of the bookcase.

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh God, I'm coming! YES!"

Max took out a birthday present from his brother, a Glock 17 semi-automatic pistol. He unlocked and removed the gun safety lock, picked up a full clip and shoved it home. Putting in his pocket two other clips full of 17 cartridges each he turned and walked down the hall.

"Oh my God, oh my God, God here it comes! Here it comes! Unnnnhhunhhh." The final syllable of her passion filled the house with a high pitched scream. And most likely George heard it next door too.

Max quietly entered the room and watched from the foot of the bed as two bodies contorted on top. Virginia was naked and on her back with her arms and legs tightly clamped around some guy on top. Her eyes squeezed tightly closed with her mouth wide open finishing her orgasm. Whoever her lover was his hairy hips pumped violently in between Virginia's legs trying to follow her orgasm with his own, his face mashed into her shoulder, his eyes buried in her hair. Their bodies bounced up and down as one, their grunts in unison. Her lover started emitting animal-like sounds of his own as his hips slammed in between her outstretched legs over and over.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The man on top screamed, not because his orgasm hit but because of the three bullets entering his back. Three small fountains of blood spurted upward.

BOOM! BOOM!

Two more bullets entered his ass, tearing big chunks of meat off, blood splattering all over the sheets.

Virginia's eyes flew open looking up at her lover and then over at the man standing by the bed with the gun pointed at them. Terror slammed into her mind at the realization of what she saw.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The first shot tore through the man's skull spewing pieces of skin and bone all over the headboard. The second bullet followed the first and came out his cheek entering his lady lover's left temple. The third shot into the side of his head was so violent it threw him off of the naked body beneath him and onto the bed beside her. His body jerked violently.

BOOM! BOOM!

One shot ripped into her right nipple and the other splashed into the puddle of sweat between her breasts.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

None of these shots hit living tissue. They struck the bed and the wall and the ceiling.

Max screamed as he emptied his clip around the room.

The pistol's slide remained back as the last bullet shell casing ejected and without thinking he pushed the button to eject the empty clip and shoved a full one home. Then as the slide slammed forward to load a bullet in the chamber he looked over at the two naked, blood soaked lovers.

The room was silent.

Her body lay on the bed twitching, spasms from misfiring nerves and destroyed brain tissue being the last moves she'd ever make. She was in the throes of death. Blood and saliva bubbled up out of her mouth. Her head turned toward Max. For an instant her eyes focused on him, a little smile grew on her lips. She became still, except for one arm. It lifted as if to reach out and touch Max's face one last time, hanging in the air with an outstretched hand toward him. It hung silently for a moment then slowly dropped to the bed in a puddle of blood at her side, blood which flowed from her face and her chest. She was dead.

Virginia's lover rested on his side next to the dead woman. His eyes peered upward blankly and his mouth silently screamed out from his own dance with death. The cock that was inside his married lover just moments before lay shriveled up against his thigh, a trickle of cum still flowing out the tip.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

It took two shots to sever his penis from his body and another to make a pool of goo out of his balls.

BOOM!

One final shot wiped the smug, horrified expression from the dead man's face taking with it most of his upper lip and nose.

Max just stood there looking down at the carnage. There were no thoughts in his head, everything was gone. He was on automatic. He neither smiled nor frowned. He felt nothing. He just turned and walked out of the bedroom and out of his house for the last time.

Old George met him in the driveway with a horrified expression on his face.

"My God Max, what did you do?" George yelled as he approached. When he saw the gun in Max's hand he turned and squatted down behind the car. Max never acknowledged him or the siren's wail off in the distance. He just calmly got in his car and drove down the street passing the police cars as they approached.

********

Every police department in the state was on the lookout for Max. He was the prime suspect in the murder of his wife and her lover. They called him 'a person of interest' but that was just a euphemism for what he really was, a murderer of two people. The television stations displayed his picture on every news broadcast and even had several 'break-in reports' about police rushing to his reported sighting. His picture was on the front page of the City Chronicle for two days before it migrated to the third page.

But Max had disappeared like a thief in the night.

Max didn't really disappear. He just drove to the one place where he used to go as a boy to be alone and think. Not far from his parent's house was an old deserted railroad turntable and equipment shed. Max sat on the ancient, deserted railroad tracks alternately putting the gun in his mouth and raging to the heavens. Neither brought any satisfaction. When he tried to end his pain, images of what he left behind in his bedroom filled his head. When he screamed into the night, echoes of his wife's passion filled his ears. Sights, sounds, and even smells of the carnage of his life consumed him. He couldn't go forward and he couldn't go back. He was a walking dead man no matter what he did. But he also couldn't end it.

After three days in his private hell, Max's mind cleared enough to let him think straight for the first time since old George's phone call at the landscape yard. He understood his predicament. He knew what he had done. The hole Virginia tore in his soul and the sounds of her passion echoing through the house were the only things he could think about. In the end he decided to go back to town and turn himself in. Without thinking, just like the shootings a few days before, he picked himself up off the old railroad tracks and in the middle of the night drove to a park near his home where he sat on a picnic bench waiting for enough nerve to drive to the police station. His gun sat beside him on the bench. In the morning runners started passing by. Every so often one would give him a questioning look and a couple turned and ran in the opposite direction. Max just sat at the table with his head in his hands quietly crying. Nothing happened for a long time, that is until the police arrived.

"Excuse me sir, can I see some identification?" asked one of the two police officers standing next to the picnic table. Both uniformed officers had their hands on their pistols, still holstered but with the cover flap open and ready. Max lifted his head to look at them. His face had no expression his eyes dull, just like before, when he killed two people. And like the time before his expression morphed into one of hate and rage.

"What in the hell are you hassling me for?" Max screamed. "Go talk to that bitch. She's the one who did all this. Arrest her! Throw her ass in jail. And take lover-boy with you. Just get out of my face and leave me the fuck alone!"

The two officers looked at one another quite shocked. The first one took his service revolver out of his holster and held it down behind his leg. The second thought a more conciliatory approach would be best.

"Sir, please don't take that attitude with us. We just need to see some identification. That's all."

Max stood and faced the officers. He still had his gun in his right hand down at his side.

"Listen ass hole, I'm not going to show you any identification. You..."

Both officers quickly drew and pointed their guns at Max. They both screamed in unison, "FREEZE!"

The officers crouched in a ready stance holding their guns with both hands at arms length aimed directly at Max's heart. "DROP THE GUN," the second officer yelled. "DON'T MOVE, JUST DROP THE GUN. NOW!"

Max turned away from the officers and started flailing his arms and screaming. "This is my gun and I'm keeping it. You're going to have to pry..."

The second officer tried to calm his voice but the tension was evident in his speech. "Sir, turn around slowly and put the gun on the picnic table. NOW! We won't hurt you if you set the gun down."

The first officer spoke into his radio microphone, "Officer needs assistance. Lake Eisenhower State Park picnic area two. Send back-up. NOW!"

"SET THE GUN DOWN!" the first officer yelled.

Max turned and yelled "FUCK YOU!" and raised his gun.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Over and over the officers shot. The gunfire sounds overlapped and deafened the officers. Max fell backwards against the picnic table. The impact with the table broke the gun from his hand and he fell in a heap beside it. The two officers stood still, breathing heavily, still pointing their guns at the now still body of Max, ready to shoot again if he moved. Neither noticed that the slides on their guns were in the back position telling them their weapons were empty.

One officer slowly moved forward to check on Max. The other noticed his gun and quickly reloaded. Max never moved as the first officer reached down and picked up Max's gun.

"Control. Send an ambulance to Lake Eisenhower State Park picnic area. One victim down with multiple gunshot wounds. AND WHERE'S OUR BACKUP?"

"Is he breathing?" The first officer asked.

The second officer looked at Max closely. "Yeah, he is. Tell the ambulance to get a move on."

********

Ed was at Max's side when he died. Max never regained consciousness and they never took the handcuffs off that locked him to his hospital bed.

Ed spent a full day at City Police headquarters telling them everything he knew, which wasn't much. Old George was there too giving his statement. After a few days the hospital released Max's body. Ed had it taken to the same funeral home where Virginia's body was already awaiting cremation. Without any ceremony, without any service, Max and Virginia were cremated. Ed took their ashes home and put them in his spare bedroom and mourned the loss of his brother and friend.

So goes real life. So much tragedy. And for what?

********

Afterword:

For the next few weeks I (the author of this little story) read the web edition of the same Midwest newspaper hoping to find some follow-up to the story I read in the San Francisco airport. This short blurb appeared two weeks later.

City police: Police close double homicide case

By Anna Nonymous

City Chronicle Breaking News Team

May 29, 2013

City police have closed the murder investigation of Virginia Bloom and Jon Thompson.

As reported in the City Chronicle last week, Maxwell Bloom was shot by City police officers in Lake Eisenhower State Park when he pointed a gun at them. Ballistics tests proved that the gun Mr. Bloom was carrying was the one used to kill his wife Virginia Bloom and a local real estate agent Jon Thompson. Both Ms. Bloom and Mr. Thompson were found shot to death in the bedroom of the Bloom's home several days before the incident at Lake Eisenhower.

Mr. Bloom died from his wounds three days after being shot by officers, a hospital spokesperson said.

The City Chief of Police commended the officers for reacting quickly and correctly to the threat imposed by Mr. Bloom and commended detectives for a quick resolution of the double homicide case. He also noted that the two officers discharged their service revolvers a total of 28 times in the line of duty but the perpetrator was hit only three times. "I'm recommending a firearms recertification of the officers in question. At 20 feet they should have been able to strike a stationary target more than three times."

The two officers involved in the shooting have been returned to duty, according to a police official.

********

After reading the follow-up article, I (the author) spent a lot of time trying to figure out why all of this happened. What was so important that three people had to die over it? Could this tragedy have been prevented? All I really know is that three people are dead, three people that for all intents and purposes are no different than me, just your average working stiff. What really bothers me is the thought that given the right circumstances I could either do what Max did or end up like Virginia and Jon.

Why did Virginia have an extra-marital affair in the first place? Was it just meaningless sex and there was no love involved or was her marriage with Max in jeopardy? I can't imagine her to be anything but a caring and loving wife who constantly doted on her husband. Either she was an actress worthy of an Academy Award or she really did love Max. We have no way of knowing why. Virginia took her secrets with her to her grave.

What caused Max to go over the edge and murder two people? Were there signs that people didn't see that could have told them something tragic was in the offing? Did he have some sort of mental breakdown? We can only speculate but it seems likely. No sane person would murder two people in cold blood like he did.

And what were Max's intentions when he raised his gun and pointed it at the police officers? Did Max commit suicide using the two officers as his executioners? It seems likely but nobody can really know for sure. Max took his secrets with him to his grave too.

There are more questions than answers.

There's so much we'll never know.

This story isn't like a lot of stories with clean-cut endings and everybody walking off into the sunset knowing every detail of what happened from beginning to end. This is as close to reality as you can get. We know a lot, but we don't know everything.

We know what, we don't know why.

For that we can only use our imagination.