(December l969) I was going on leave, from Army Basic Training; it was Christmas time, and I stopped in Chicago, a short stay, and only but a few hours. I pulled the string of the bus and he let me off. I was thinking this was my stop, seeing a sign that said Greyhound, but when I got to it closer that is, the station was abandoned, and the sign indicated where the new station was. I had taken a plane to this mighty and windy city, and I wasn't all that far from my hometown, to be quite honest. I look around for a cab, no luck. For another bus, no luck, and then I saw a Spanish dud coming. He came to about four feet in front of my nose. I looked about, and there were three others, all standing in a funny diamond shaped geographical design. On corners, and within running distanced, as if they were covering the four corners of the world. I knew I was being set up to be robbed: and I felt it was act now, or never. He clicked his finger in my face with the "West Side Story Look," on it. I saw as I was about to open the door of the little barber shop next to me, a lady, and when she saw the sit-up, she shut the inside door, and locked it. She was cutting another woman's hair, and another customer woman was waiting. I went to see if the door locked completely, because I heard the latch possibly miss, as she walked away. I think she was hoping I didn't notice it, but she didn't turn around anyways. I did open the door, and I went in. "Can you call me a cab Miss; it's getting a little dangerous out there." "No," she replied. I looked about. Everyone was just doing their thing. No eye contact. I looked out the window. There was that dim short looking Mexican, with his pals nearby. I turned away from the window and looked at her again. She did catch my eyes this time, but did not say a word. So I sat down. It was 3:45 PM. She would be closing I thought soon, and she'd have to let me use the phone. I kept looking out the window, for about twenty-minutes. I never saw a cab. No buses. Then I thought I seen a bus coming my way, meaning, anyway at this point was my down. It was now up a ways, by a four way stop and go light. I got up to take a better look. Put my duffle bag around my right shoulder and went outside. Thus, this hot shot came up to me as I was standing on the corner trying to see if it was a bus or not. He came up to me, but before he took that last step from four feet to three feet, he pulled a knife out this time, and when he put his foot down, to stand three feet in front of me, I hit him between the eyes, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. I grabbed the knife, turned him over to see if he had any other weapons, pushed my duffle bag off my shoulders. Yaw, he had a gun tucked away in his back. He was awake but drowsy, "You're a dead man," he sputtered in some kind of English. Funny I thought, he was on the ground and I'm the dead man. "No," I said, "I don't see it that way..." I told him. One of the other three fellows came running up, I took the knife and threw it, it landed between the man's eyes, and he was about six feet from me when he dropped to the ground. Then I took the revolver and shot the other two men: one by one they dropped, about ten feet in front of me. The Hot Shot looked at me, now not quite in a daze, and tried to swallow his tongue I think after witnessing his comrades being put out of commission, it spoiled his appetite. I put the knife and gun in my pocket, saw the bus coming my way, and so I got up, and caught the bus as I had always intended to. I noticed, looking out of the bus window, the man trying to get into the barber shop as the bus pulled away from the corner, and I noticed the woman's eyes catching mine. I think she was in disbelief, crying for help, in fear the man was going to do her harm. The man was screaming something in Spanish"dejame entrar... carajo!" ... Dejame entrar... Carajooooooooooooooo... De jame" 4/2002/Modified 12/19/05 |
