Grey Areas

by Brad Carl

Henry turned to Claire. "Is this normal small town weekend behavior?" he asked her. Before Claire could respond, Maddison did. "It is in our house," she explained. "I've been trying to get him to settle down for years."

  "It could be a lot worse," Claire said. "He could be out doing God knows what."

  Maddison sighed. The two men walked through the yard to where Chum had held the thrower to see if they could figure out how perfect Eddie's aim had been.

  "I suppose you're right," she agreed.

  "I had a wife that was always out doing God knows what," Marty added, making eye contact with everyone. "It really could be worse, Maddie."

  "If it makes you feel any better, I think this is all for show," Henry commented. "It would be different if they had an apple on their head or something, but holding that thing out like that is pretty safe. I mean, as long as I'm not the one doing the shooting."

  The four of them let out quiet chuckles as the two shooters walked back.

  "Take two," Chum announced.

  "It's not possible to hit it better than I did," Eddie said. "You can only hope to match me." He grabbed a clay pigeon and put it in the thrower. "Don't shoot me."

  "Get out there," Chum told him. "I wanna get this done so I can run inside and get me another beer."

  Eddie walked out to the approximate area where Chum had been only a few minutes earlier. He held his right arm out and waited with his left hand on his hip. He showed no concern for his safety. Chum raised the shotgun and began to aim.

  Off in the distance, a vehicle could be heard rumbling up the gravel driveway. Only the headlights were visible as they moved past Henry's house and beamed towards the small gathering of people. Chum lowered the gun. As it approached, it became clear the vehicle was a pickup truck. They could see shadowy figures in both the cab and the bed.

  "Ho...ly...shit," Chum managed to utter as he stared and watched the pickup jump off the driveway's slab of concrete and come to a stop on his lawn. Three Hispanic men leaped to the yard from the back of the truck. Two more exited the cab. Of the five, two of the men who had jumped from the truck's bed were a lot bigger than the others.

  "What the hell...?" Henry said under his breath. He looked at Claire. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head, telling him she had no idea what was going on, either.

  "Buenas noches, muchachos y muchachas," the passenger from the pickup cab said as he approached Chum. He had a black mustache and appeared to be the leader of the group. The driver stood next to him as the other three men followed behind. "I hope you don't mind us joining your party, Tomás," the man continued in English.

  "Tom, who are these men?" Maddison asked her husband as she walked up and stood next to him in front of the strangers. Henry continued to watch from a distance with Claire and Marty. He could sense these men had not been invited to the get-together.

  The man with the mustache reached out to grab the shotgun from Chum's hands. Chum immediately tried to jerk the gun back, but the man held his grip. As this was going on, the other man pulled a handgun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it between Maddison's eyes. The cold steel pressed against her skin.

  "Tom..." Maddison sobbed as she immediately began to shake. Claire let out a gasp and grabbed Henry's arm.

  "Ok, ok!" Chum blurted, responding to the gun in his wife's face. "Here." He handed the shotgun to the man with the mustache. "Let her go, Franco."

  Franco put his hand in the air.

  "Eso es suficiente, Rafael," he said. Rafael obeyed Franco and released Maddison from gunpoint. She ran back to where she had been standing before, between Henry and Marty.

  Fast Eddie began to walk in from his spot where he had been holding the target, but Franco stopped him. "Hold on, Eduardo," he said. "It looks like you were having fun. Stay there. I'd like to have fun, too."

  Eddie stopped cold in his tracks, not knowing for sure what to do. When he began moving forward again, Rafael held up his gun and aimed it at Eddie.

  "All right!" Eddie shouted and took five steps back, still holding the clay pigeon thrower.

  "What the hell is going on here?" Henry asked in a whisper, looking first at Maddison and then at Claire. The fear on both of their faces gave no answers and confirmed this was no joke.

  "I saw you two playing a game when we drove up. Hold that target out," Franco told Eddie, who hesitated to obey. Franco looked at Chum. "You like playing games, don't you, Tomás?"

  Chum remained silent as Franco raised the shotgun toward Eddie. Henry sat in his chair not having a clue what was going on, but recognizing that getting up was not a good idea. There were too many guns out there.

  One of the other three men moved to Franco and pushed the shotgun down. Placing his hand on Franco's shoulder, he spoke to him under his breath in Spanish. Henry couldn't make out a word the man was saying but assumed by his facial expressions he was attempting to calm Franco down.

  "Yo sé lo que estoy haciendo, Carlos," Franco told the man as he pushed him aside. "¡Fuera de mi camino!"

  Carlos retreated to his previous position with the other men. As he did, Henry could see a concerned look on his face. It was obvious Franco would now continue to terrorize the group.

  "Hold it out there, Eduardo," Franco instructed, once again aiming the gun at Eddie. "Where is my money?" he asked Chum without looking at him.

  "I don't have it, but...I'll get it...soon," Chum said.

  "Then where is my coke?" Franco asked.

  "I told you two weeks ago I don't have it," Chum answered. "I ran into a situation—"

  Gunfire interrupted Chum's voice as Franco pulled the trigger. In a split second, Fast Eddie Clark grabbed his right leg and fell to the grass, wailing in agonizing pain.

  Claire, Maddison, and Marty gasped in unison. Henry continued to process what was going on while remaining on guard. He began running through scenarios in his head about what might happen next and what he could do to help ensure everyone's safety. It surprised him that Eddie was still alive. Henry thought for sure Franco would aim higher.

  "I missed," Franco said and then looked at Chum. "Or did I?"

  "Come on, man," Chum pleaded. "Have I ever done you wrong? I'm going to make this right. I just need more time."

  "I know you're going to make it right," Franco agreed. "One way or another."

  Claire continued to stare at the scene, as if she were watching a scary movie.

  "I'd heard the rumors," she whispered, "but I never thought they were anything more than...rumors."

  "That Chum was dealing?" Henry asked, turning to look at her. Claire nodded. They both looked over at Maddison, who was now in tears as Marty tried to comfort her.

  "Do you think she knew?" Claire asked Henry.

  "I doubt it. She sure seemed clueless," he answered.

  "What's going to happen?"

  "I don't know, but..." Henry's voice trailed off. He didn't have the answers and he didn't want to say something corny. He was doing his best to keep his cool and stay in control and up to this point he had done just that. All the more reason it was a good idea to drink half a beer the entire evening. Despite being tired from the night before, Henry still had his senses. He was on high alert. Somebody needed to be.

  "Llevarlos dentro de la casa," Franco ordered his men. "And get Eduardo a band-aid."

  Carlos and the two larger men came over to where Henry, the ladies, and Marty were. They pulled out guns of their own. Maddison began to scream.

  "I think they're just taking us into the house," Henry told her. He hadn't taken a lot of Spanish in school, but he knew enough to recognize the word "casa." Maddison immediately stopped screaming. Everyone stood up and walked into the house with the armed men following behind.

  Once inside, the three men directed them to the sitting area where the party had commenced earlier. Following behind was Rafael as he helped Eddie limp his way into the house. Franco strolled in a few seconds later as Eddie fell onto the couch.

  "He needs a doctor!
" Maddison exclaimed as Franco made his way into the room.

  "He does," Franco agreed. "But that's not my concern right now." He pivoted in a circle, scoping out the Chumansky home. "Rafael! Carlos! ¡Ven conmigo! It's time to search the house." He began to walk out of the room with his two main men but turned around and looked at Chum. "Where's my shit?" Franco asked him.

  Chum looked at him in desperation. "I honestly do not have it. Just give me a chance to figure things out."

  "I already have," Franco said. He turned and walked out of the room.

  Eddie continued to groan in pain every thirty seconds or so. Chum and Maddison sat next to him and attempted to comfort him.

  Henry grabbed Chum by the arm. "You're a drug dealer? Seriously?" Henry said, jerking his arm in rhythm.

  "Man..." Chum said. He looked at his wife and then back at Henry. "Where do you think I got the dough for the stores?"

  "¡Silencio!"

  One of the big men watching them was not pleased with their chatter. He moved closer to enforce his command to be quiet.

  At this point, Henry wasn't sure what to do next. He didn't know if Chum was telling Franco the truth or if they'd find anything as they searched the house. The fact that they were all at gunpoint didn't give them much of a chance to do anything. All they could do now was wait.

  The clock ticked. An occasional rumble could be heard throughout the house. Henry assumed they were turning furniture over and throwing things around as they looked for their drugs and money. He held Claire close to him, wondering if they would ever get the opportunity to take their relationship to another level.

  After twenty minutes, the three men returned, empty-handed and unhappy.

  "Tomás, you've left me no choice," Franco said. "There is nothing here."

  "That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Chum replied. "I'll get it taken—"

  "Enough!" Franco shouted. He turned to Rafael. "Matarlos a todos."

  Carlos hurried over to Franco again. This time his voice was louder and more desperate. "¡Franco, no necesitamos matarlos! ¡Debemos darles la oportunidad de conseguir el dinero!" he pleaded.

  Franco held his hand in front of Rafael, who obeyed by pulling his gun out and placing it in his boss's hand. Without another word, Franco held the gun in front of Carlos and shot him in the head. Maddison and Claire both let out screams of shock as the man crumpled to the wooden floor, lifeless.

  "Do it," he said to Rafael, handing the gun back to him. He turned and walked out the front door.

  This can't be good, Henry thought.

  VIII

  Rafael and the remaining two men walked over to Chum and his guests on the couch. Eddie was still groaning in pain, but conscious. Maddison was in a panic, sitting between Marty and her husband.

  "What are they doing? Tom! What are they going to do?"

  Chum looked at his wife, then at Rafael, who was scratching his temple with the barrel of his gun. Henry had a pretty good idea what was about to happen if Chum didn't give them what they wanted. Scenarios like this were not what Henry had in mind when he pulled into town last weekend.

  So, this is how it's going to end for me, Henry thought.

  Suddenly, as if a traffic light had turned green, Rafael pulled the gun down, aimed it at Marty's forehead, and pulled the trigger. It happened so fast, Marty didn't even have a chance to beg for his life. His head snapped back and his body followed, falling limp on the couch. His eyes stared at the ceiling.

  "Oh my God!" Maddison screamed in tears. Claire buried her head in Henry's shoulder as she also began to weep.

  "Tom! Do something! Give them what they want!" Maddison pleaded with her husband.

  "Even if I had the money or the drugs to give them, it wouldn't matter now," Chum said. "It's no use. We're all dead."

  Henry's mind was racing. There had to be a way out of this. He remembered hearing the story of United Flight 93 on 9/11 and how the passengers and crew had fought back. They rushed the terrorists, who were armed with box cutters, in an attempt to regain control of the plane. But the odds were not good for something like that happening tonight. Guns were a lot more accurate from a distance than box cutters. Plus, Franco was still outside somewhere.

  Rafael wasted no time as he moved a foot to his left and stood in front of Maddison. This time he was patient. He looked her in the eyes, at the tears streaming down her mascara- streaked face. She sobbed and grabbed her husband's arm. This seemed to freeze Chum with fear. So much so that he made no effort to protect his wife.

  "Please! Please..." Maddison’s voice trailed off as she spoke. "Please don't...don't kill me..."

  Rafael did not react.

  "I'm pregnant," Maddison said as a slight smile made a brief appearance on her lips. At first, Henry wasn't sure if she was telling this to Chum or to Rafael. But the look on his landlord's face and his verbal response said it all.

  "You're...you're pregnant?" Chum repeated back to her. She nodded. Rafael began to raise the gun.

  "Hang on! Wait! Stop!" Chum yelled as he tried to put his hand in front of the gun. The killer pulled it down to his side. He was curious as to what Chum would say next. So was everybody else.

  Chum let out a sigh strong enough to make his bangs float off his forehead. He looked up from the couch and spoke to Rafael. "I'll take you to the stuff. Just leave everyone else alone. Please?"

  Henry couldn't help but let the tiniest of smirks form on his face when he heard Chum add "the magic word" at the end of his offer to Rafael. This guy just put a hole in your accountant's head. Using a pleasantry wasn't going to faze him.

  Rafael smirked, too. He put the gun down by his side, turned, and walked out the front door. The other two men stood in front of them, watching and waiting for further instructions from their boss. Claire huddled close to Henry. Maddison did the same to Chum, but while doing so glanced at Marty's lifeless body on the couch. She let out a gasp and buried her face in her husband's shoulder. None of them spoke at this point, not knowing what the consequences might be. The only noise was an occasional groan from Eddie. He was turning pale, looking sick. Ninety seconds passed before Rafael re-entered the house with Franco.

  "Tomás, I understand you've decided to give me what I came for," Franco said.

  "Yeah," Chum answered without looking up.

  "Finalmente," Franco said. "Where is it?"

  Chum continued to stare into space through all four of the armed men in front of him. "We have to go to my farmhouse up the drive."

  "We? I don't think so, amigo," Franco said as he moved to the front door. "I will go by myself. Where in the house?"

  Chum let out a chuckle and a slight shrug. "Suit yourself," he said. "Basement. Under the clothes dryer."

  Franco moved back into the room and stood in front of Chum.

  "What is so funny?" Franco inquired.

  "Nothing. I mean, you might be able to disarm it yourself for all I know," Chum explained vaguely.

  "Disarm what?" Franco asked, angry now. He pulled his gun out and aimed it at Maddison. "Start talking or I'm going to pick up where Rafael left off."

  "Ok, ok. It's booby trapped—rigged with an explosive," Chum said. "You're going to need my help."

  Franco put the gun down and looked around the room. First at the people on the couch, then back at his men. He looked at Chum.

  "Get up," Franco said. He looked at Henry and pointed at him with the gun. "You too," he said.

  "Me?" Henry questioned as he stood up. He looked down at Claire, who now had a strained look on her face.

  "You two are coming with Rafael and me," Franco explained. He turned to the other two men and spoke in Spanish while pointing in the direction of Maddison, Claire, and Eddie. "No los deje fuera de su vista. Si intentan algo, matar a todos ellos."

  "No funny stuff," Franco said to them. "I told these guys to shoot you if you try anything."

  Rafael and Franco moved to the door.

  "Let's go," Franco commanded Chu
m and Henry. Claire touched Henry's fingers one last time before he walked completely from her grasp. He turned and looked at her calmly, mouthing the words, "It's okay." She gave Henry a faint smile as he turned and walked out the door.

  #

  Franco insisted on using the truck to get to the farmhouse. Rafael drove with Chum riding shotgun, while Franco sat in the bed and kept his eye and gun on Henry. The ride was bumpy and short. Henry wondered why, if Chum had the money or the drugs the entire time, he hadn't saved Eddie's leg and Marty's life by giving it up earlier. This entire situation was difficult to fathom. Henry kept thinking how he should've just gone to bed tonight. Or gone home from the party earlier. More than likely he still would have ended up finding himself in the middle of this mess right about now. Henry imagined what it would be like to have these guys wake him up in the middle of the night.

  It's better this way, he thought. At least I know what's going on.

  The pickup came to a stop next to the side door of Henry's rental house. The four men got out of the truck. Chum walked up to the door and almost ran into it, discovering the hard way that it was locked. He turned to Henry.

  "You locked it?"

  "Yeah. Is that unusual?" Henry asked, reaching into his pocket for the key.

  "It is in Iowa," Chum answered. He took the key, unlocked the door, and handed the key back to his tenant. Henry assumed he was the only one in the group who found it amusing that Chum was giving him grief for locking a door while escorted at gunpoint by homicidal drug dealers.

  "You live here?" Franco asked Henry as the men walked through the door and into the kitchen.

  "For a week," Henry replied as Wilson greeted him in the doorway by rubbing against his leg. Rafael led them down the stairs to the basement. When the four men had gathered, they all turned and faced the clothes washer and dryer.

  "Where is it?" Franco asked.

  "Gonna need some help moving the dryer," Chum explained.

  "He can do it," Franco said, motioning to Henry. Chum walked over to the clothes dryer and Henry followed. They lifted and moved the appliance, revealing a small trapdoor about three feet square. "What about the explosives?" Franco asked.