On The Devil's Side of Heaven

by Roger Peppercorn

  As far as plans went, it ranked real high on the amateur scale. But hell, they were committed now. He checked the actions on his weapons and after clearing them and wiping all the snow off, he began moving toward the front of the house, careful of any cameras that might alert Fritz and the hitter. Satisfied, he moved until he was in place and then keyed the mike. “Let those truckers roll, 10-4!”

  Walt shook his head and then keyed the mike. “You make a shitty Kris Kristofferson, you know that?”

  After Jenny watched Fritz disappear upstairs, she continued loading and stashing guns around the house. She knew there was a real chance she would never have the opportunity to fend off an attack using all the weapons she had stored around the house, but it was that or play hide and go seek outside in the blowing snow. She stopped at the thought, turned around and looked outside. She couldn’t see much but she could tell the wind had died down.

  ‘Damn,’ she thought to herself. They had counted on the weather to keep their advisories at bay at least until morning, but now that she knew the conditions outside had stopped, they could come at any time. Their only hope was that they would wait until the early morning hours to breach the house. It was going to be a long night.

  Jenny yelled. “Fritz!” She waited for him to answer, but heard nothing. ‘Asshole,’ she thought. She tried again. “Hey! Fritz, you hear me?” She looked up at the ceiling, waiting for a reply. Jenny had worked her way into the dining room, which was located just off the kitchen. When he didn’t answer, she shook her head in frustration and started for the stairs. Jenny had made it to the bottom of the stairs when she heard voices outside near the front door and then glass breaking in the kitchen, followed by the report of a large caliber gun. Instinctively, she dove for the floor and then combat crawled behinds the stairs.

  She cursed herself for not taking a gun with her. The gunfire continued, the rounds hitting the walls in the kitchen. Each round made a thumping noise with the impact. She peeked around the corner and when she was sure the attack was centered on the kitchen, she half crawled, half walked to where Fritz had hidden the shotgun.

  “Jenny, you alright?” Fritz called from the stairs.

  “I’m fine. Sounds like it’s just harassing fire in the kitchen. Assholes are probably shooting from the same spot as yesterday.” She heard his footsteps as he descended the stairs. “Fritz, be careful, would you? Don’t know if one of them made it inside.”

  “Nonsense, if they were inside, they’d be shooting right now. We have nothing to worry about at the moment.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that. After she had picked up the shotgun and racked a round into the chamber, she swept the room in front of her. The shooting had stopped, which either meant they were through for the moment or were setting up for round two.

  Fritz had gotten to the bottom of the stairs now and stood casually in front of her. “Dear, this is my house and trust me, it won’t be taken by these two. They’ve broken a few more windows, but that is all. Now, stand up and let us continue preparing for their arrival, shall we?”

  Once again she was struck by his cavalier attitude. “Sir, I think you’re underestimating these guys. Jacobs especially.”

  He waved her off. “When they are inside these hallowed walls we will know, and not a second before.”

  I had fired about a dozen shots into the house. I’m not sure what I was expecting, which was a good thing because when I was finished all I could hear was the wind moving through the trees and my own ragged breath. I keyed the mike and said, “You in?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, what I heard were gunshots. I put the gun back up to my eyes and scoped the house once again. Nothing. I tried to raise Ronald on the radio again, but got nothing in reply. Instead, I heard what sounded like return fire. “Damnit, Ronald, you were supposed to wait,” I screamed.

  I dropped the rifle and began heading towards the house. The shooting had stopped. Worried, I abandoned all attempts at stealth and began to run through the snow towards the house. My feet were moving fast. I half slid several times in the snow as I tried to make my way to the secret door Ronald had entered from. As I rounded the corner all I saw was snow, and a lot of it. I stopped and stared in confusion.

  Sam had outlined where the door was but all I saw was a snowbank that climbed half way up the wall. I moved slowly around the edge of the snow, looking for where Ronald had entered the house. My eyes started to focus on an area where someone had obviously disrupted the windblown snowbank.

  Whoever had dug around here hadn’t made it all the way to the house. I could see where the forward momentum had stopped and they had turned back. Reaching for my gun, I extended my arms in front of me and began approaching the front of the house. I half expected to see Ronald’s corpse lying in the snow. When I rounded the side of the house, I could see where Ronald had positioned himself.

  Ronald had taken up in front of one of the largest pane glass windows that used to be intact. Now, an empty hole greeted me. I took a chance and peeked inside. On the floor, near a large staircase, I could see what looked like a woman’s body lying in front of it. Keeping my arms extended in front of me, I swept the room. I could see a blood trail going up the stairs now that I was inside.

  When I walked into the cabin it was eerily silent. I kept my gun trained out in front of me, clearing the rooms as I went. After I cleared the downstairs, I pointed my gun out in front of me and eased up the stairs, my eyes sweeping the banister for any sign of movement. My ears tuned for the sounds of feet shuffling across the oak floorboards. When I got to the top of the stairs, I heard someone speak off to my right. Instinctively, my gun hand swung in that direction, my eyes going with it. I stopped and strained to hear what was being said, but the voices were muffled by the closed door. Keeping my eyes and gun trained on the door, I backpedaled so that I could check the rest of the floor for anyone else who wanted to do me harm. I wondered again where Ronald was. I hoped that one of the voices I’d heard was his but it was impossible to tell. Satisfied that no one else was in the cabin but me and the people on the other side of the door, I eased carefully back in that direction.

  Careful to keep close to the walls so I would minimize the noise from any loose or older boards that had warped over time, my feet moved slowly towards the door. Giving myself away wasn’t a good idea since I didn’t know who was on the other side of that door. When I got close enough to the door I stopped and strained to understand what was being said, but the thick oaken walls and door made it impossible to make it out. Reaching out and putting my hand on the doorknob, I tried it. The door was unlocked, which was good news and bad news. Good, because I could see who was on the other side of the door and bad, because if I had to shoot then my decision would be quick and deadly. I considered backing out for a moment and trying to find a phone, but knew I couldn’t because I didn’t know where Ronald was. I cursed him again for taking off like Rambo. Taking a deep breath, I flung the door open and stepped inside.

  Ronald was standing in front of me and Fritz was sitting on the floor in front of a large desk, he looked completely beaten and older than he had appeared on TV just a few days ago, when I was laid up in the hospital. Blood ran down his face and into his eyes. Ronald had administered some street justice in the time it took me to make it inside. The beating he had taken at the hands of Ronald had come close to killing him, but Ronald had stopped before he went too far.

  I stepped into the room and moved until I was standing beside Ronald. Whereas Fritz was bloody and beaten, Ronald looked as if he had just stepped from a guns and ammo magazine. The only thing out of place was a compress he held over a wound he had suffered. The fight in both men had temporarily left them.

  Ronald’s eyes moved over to me. He nodded at me and grinned. “Oh look, it’s the cops,” he said dryly.

  Fritz looked over at Ronald and wondered why he was still alive. He knew that Ronald had pulled back just before the beating had gone too far. "Why am I still alive?"


  The scene in front of me was like a replay of six years ago, when I had walked in on Chaney Shannon and Ronald. Fritz, like Chaney, was on the ground talking while Ronald stood nearby. It was as if my body and mind had transposed itself to that scene. I kept waiting for Ronald to raise his gun and shoot him. Except Ronald didn’t have a gun in his hand this time. Back then I had been surprised to find them both together and even more shocked when he had died in front of me.

  In my dreams, I had relived that moment over and over again. Each time I had woken, my anger had flared and for the rest of the day, I sought vengeance on the world around me. But now, here I was again, staring at a man Ronald had beaten almost to death. I looked over at Ronald like I had six years ago. Back then, his eyes had been coal black and empty. Now, his eyes were the same deep pools of green they had been when we were younger.

  Ronald looked over at him but didn't respond. He was afraid that if he talked to him, the rage he felt would overtake him and he had promised he wouldn't kill this man even though he dearly deserved it. Instead, he had waited for Walt to arrive. Walt would do the right thing, just like he would have done the right thing six years ago, had Ronald let him.

  Not this time. He worked against his base instincts and would let the law have their way with him. He was pretty sure the money Fritz had would be more than enough to buy a good defense, but he had made a promise and he knew if Jessica thought for even a second that Ronald had even thought about killing again, she would leave him.

  “You were supposed to wait,” I said, my eyes locked on Fritz.

  He shrugged, “Never been too good at waiting for anything.”

  I nodded but said nothing.

  “So what happens now? You call the law and tell them what? Huh? That you attacked me and killed some innocent girl?” Fritz said with venom, bloody spittle flying from his mouth.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel just now. The man who had caused so much destruction in my life over the last week sat in front of me with a bloody face. All I felt was drained of energy. I walked past him to the sliding glass window and peered outside into the darkness. I stared at my reflection in the glass and took a good look at myself.

  I could hear Fritz talking behind me, but his words were muffled like he was talking with a pillow across his face. My ears began to buzz. I felt lightheaded and my legs began to shake. I reached out and touched my own reflection in the window to steady myself. The gun I held in my hand was heavy. ‘Shit,’ I thought, ‘I’m going to faint.’

  I heard Ronald’s voice in the background. My eyes drifted up and I looked at him in the reflection of the glass. His face looked concerned, even worried. Turning around, I faced them both. My eyes roamed from one to the other, trying to make out what they were saying. Ronald’s face began to darken, Fritz was laughing uncontrollably.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  Fritz stopped laughing and looked at me. “You two are what’s so funny. That’s what."

  “Why’d you do it?”

  “Justice,” he replied.

  “Killing my ex-wife and her husband was justice? Not to mention the attempts on my life. That’s your justice?”

  Fritz’s eyes narrowed and he said, “Mathew 5:38, ‘You have heard the law that says the punishment must match the injury; an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’”

  I turned back around to face the window and then I knew all of this was for naught. Fritz Washington was insane. I closed my eyes and dropped my head, blowing out my breath, I felt the cold dead weight of the gun tug in my hand. The images of my failures as a husband and a father played out in front of me. Regret and shame from a thousand poor decisions as a human being settled on my shoulders. I felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes.

  “Walt, you okay?” I heard Ronald ask.

  Opening my eyes, I looked up and saw Lori staring back at me. Her eyes were warm and filled with love. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, you weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

  “Oh, Wally, how did you think it was going to end?” she asked.

  “Not like this. We were supposed to work it out.”

  She smiled coyly and then made that clucking sound with her tongue off the roof of her mouth.

  “I love you, Lori. I can’t believe you’re really gone,” I said ruefully.

  “I am Wally and I have been for a long time, but I never stopped loving you.”

  It was then I could hear Ronald and Fritz bickering behind me, their words forcing me to face them. I turned and stared stupidly, unable to understand any of it. Both men screaming, their faces red with veins popping. I wondered if both of them were about to stroke out.

  “Wally, it’s okay,” Lori said, and then I felt her hand lovingly touch me on the shoulder.

  I turned back around and stared. “What now?”

  Her eyes cast down to the gun in my hand. “It’s okay,” she said again.

  I stretched out my hands and looked at them and nodded at the gun. “You’ve always hated violence,” I said. Looking back, I watched in horror as a large round hole formed between her eyes and blood began to trickle down the side of her nose. Her eyes lost focus and began to close. Then she was gone.

  “Cast not others on the devil’s side of heaven, lest you want to be cast with them,” I said.

  “What’s that from, Romans?” Fritz asked.

  I shook my head and turned around to face him. “No, I read it on a bumper sticker.” I took a step toward him, my gun hand coming up at the same time, the tip of my finger making contact with the raised ridges of the trigger. The metal began to give way and I watched in slow motion as the bullets made contact and his body slumped over.

  Ronald looked at the body on the floor and then back to me. For the first time since we were kids, Ronald was speechless. Now, after all these years, we both knew the distance between us was of equal measure.

  I continued past him, dropping the gun at his feet, closing the door quietly behind me.

  Epilogue

  After the shooting, the FBI showed up and took both of us into custody. When Agents Butler and Jordan had arrived, they separated both of us for what I thought was going to be a long and drawn out interrogation. But before I could confess and fall on my own quixotic sword, Agent Jordan held up his hand and told me that no statement from me was going to necessary since they already had it. “They,” he had said. I shook my head and stared back at him. Both of them glared at me until I finally nodded my head in mock understanding. But I’m not sure I was really surprised.

  Lots of men in dark clothing with severe expressions climbed all over the scene, marking and then booking evidence. Since the Feds had decided my participation was not warranted and they didn’t bother to lock me up or put me in a room, I ambled over to the lodge’s bar, sat down and proceeded to get good and drunk. Sometime later, I remember seeing Paul and Marcie. Marcie looked happy to see me alive and unhurt. Paul, not so much. He was really pissed when I told him about the badge he had given me. I heard him mumble something about getting a metal detector before crops were planted and he had to answer difficult questions. She hovered in my line of vision until I blacked out but Paul seemed to float away.

  Eventually the media showed up with their satellite trucks and began doing stand-ups from outside the bar. This was of little consolation since I assumed they were putting the final nails in the coffin that I would be buried in. Despite the fact my two favorite agents had cut me loose, I wasn’t sure the media would be so forgiving. It didn’t matter to me though, because the barkeep had given up refilling my glass and finally had left the bottle. So my worries were moving on down the road.

  Ronald, on the other hand, was hustled off the mountain and taken to whereabouts unknown. After I sobered up, I learned from watching the news and talking to Marcie and Paul that a deal had been struck and that all parties involved were given a pass on our transgressions.

  The story got
picked up by the national press and I was labeled a hero cop in the fight against corruption. Both the local media and the national news made a big deal about the corruption and evil deeds of Fritz Washington. There was one passing story of the woman found at the scene. The talking head in front of me wondered aloud if she was an innocent bystander or part of it. No story ever emerged about a man strapped naked to a chair and beaten to death at Pea Green dance hall. Nor was there a story about a button man hogtied in a cabin. I called Agent Butler and asked about it.

  After a long pause, he said, “Peter Silas was the right-hand man to Washington and rumored to be a lot like your buddy, Ronald Jacobs. To be honest, we don’t know a lot about him and it appears we never will because it’s now classified. As far as the other guy goes, that too, is now classified. We don’t even have his name. You have a nice day.”

  Paul was interviewed several times about the hero cop who worked for him and eventually I was given a statement to read by the Feds. In case I had any ideas about straying off the story, they had dangled their handcuffs in front of me to make their point.

  I didn’t care about any of it. Instead, I holed up at Marcie’s while the dust settled and started working the steps. For real this time, or at least that’s what I told everyone. Every day I talked to Thomas and Cassandra. We cried a lot and I promised them I would be seeing them very soon. Jessica was a wreck from the shooting she had witnessed and sobbed a lot on the phone. Her doctor told me it would be a while before she was over it, but that he suspected she would make a full recovery. I took some of the money Ronald had given me and bought plane tickets for all of them. A week later, I drove to Grand Junction airport to pick up Jessica and my kids. I was still surprised by my freedom. Through it all, I never told anyone about seeing Lori. I hoped she would visit me in my dreams or maybe I would see her staring back at me from a window, but it never happened. It would be a long time before I would be able to mourn her death or come to terms with the fact that I was responsible for the systematic destruction of those around me.