Someone was knocking at the door. They knocked three times, waited, then three more times, louder. I couldn’t so much hear it as I could feel it in the floor. I tried to rouse myself. I tried with everything I had left to call out to them, but all I could muster were a few weakening gasps. The house was dark, but I could see a huge maroon stain spreading out from where I lay. I blinked my eyes several times to clear my vision. I smelled like sweat and was still bleeding a little from the head wounds. I was so hungry all I could picture was some super-hero like the Hulk beating down the door with one of those riot police battering rams and holding out a generous, steaming portion of fried rice, a giant turkey leg and a Hulk-sized glass of water. No such luck with that so far. The knocking had ceased and I was again left to my own – now minimal – devices. I wondered how long I’d been out. I wished the knocks would return.
I could still move my neck, but my arms and legs seemed to be floating off in space somewhere. I knew they were there and I could feel them, but in a different way than before. I was still bleeding a little, but for the most part it had stopped. I was groggy and dehydrated. Some of the feeling had come back to me since the shooting, but I was still largely immobile. I kept praying to God that I could move something, soon. There wasn’t much else that I could do.
I didn’t really remember that much. I had been here at the house having dinner when someone pulled into the drive. It was starting to get dark so I only saw that it was a pick-up with a single occupant. The man got out of his vehicle rather quickly and came ambling up to the house. He knocked five times rapidly. His hair looked wild an unkempt through the window, but I couldn’t really make out his face. He looked large, at least larger than me. I asked who he was through the locked door. He said he had a message for me from a friend. “Which friend,” I’d asked. “An old friend,” the man replied. I didn’t recognize him or his voice at all. “Well put it in my mailbox then, thank you.” He told me that he was supposed to tell me something face-to-face. My mind raced and my heart started pounding heavily as I tried to think of who might want to send me a message. “Why don’t you just call me tomorrow sir, it’s getting late.” Indeed, the sun was setting through the windows and was offering up a lovely purplish-red sky above the trees surrounding the house. “If you ain’t gonna open the door then I’ll just have to try another time,” said the man. “Well, you’ll have to do that then. Just call me tomorrow and we can discuss what this is all about.” “Alright then sir, I’ll be back.” The man turned and walked back to his truck. He got in and drove off down the driveway. I watched him go all the way down to the highway and turn East.
I tried to pick my own brain for what old friend would have a message for me. I was afraid. Something was obviously not right here, but I had no enemies really. Sure, some people probably disliked me, but what would anyone have to say to me that they couldn’t say to my face themselves. Was this guy some kind of hitman? Who the hell would want to kill me? I thought about calling the police and that’s when the shots came, first to the knee. I dropped to the ground. Then I felt a shot in my lower back and finally, one in the head. I turned to look as I fell and saw a woman wearing a short skirt and sneakers. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew who it was. Her legs were unforgettable. She bent down next to me and kissed my cheek. “Sweets to the sweet, right J” she whispered in my ear.
She got up and walked slowly down the hall going from room to room for a while, then came back and knelt before me. There was a huge diamond ring on her hand as she balanced herself in front of me. She kissed my cheek again. “Thanks for being here for me,” she said. I recognized her scent of course, and the feel of her lips. “You were always one of the gentlemen,” she told me as she fired one last shot through my ear.