The Disappeared

It was late into the afternoon. The sun cruised over a small Arizona town, and a dust ball was tossed around by the hands of the wind. The Brighter Star Diner sat at the edge of Main Street, covered with yellow, police tape. Its windows were boarded up, denying any light from prying into its darkness, but its glass doors remained unlocked. And the ghosts inside waited patiently for me to enter.

"I was just passing through," she said. "I only stopped here to grab something to eat and then head out to the road." Her voice paused. "But I was wrong."

The diner came to life. The windows were uncovered, bright with sunlight. The doors swung open, greeting customers or saying good-bye. The lunch hour was just dying down, and some of the kitchen staff went outside on cigarette breaks. The waiters and waitresses eagerly counted their tips before serving their next customers. And then, three men entered the diner, and everything went silent.

The man in the middle held the most focus. He was notorious around these parts, and the people of this town were afraid of him. The two men with him were just thugs, but they were his thugs. With a nod, the man in the middle, Reynolds watched one cohort lock the glass, diner doors, and the other walked into the kitchen to do the same. They were trapped. They were his for the taking.

"It's okay," he said with a southern drawl. "Nobody's going to get hurt." He slowly walked past the tables filled with families and friends. "I'm just here on business." It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. "Nobody does anything foolish, and nobody gets hurt." He dropped into a chair beside my table and looked my way. "I just want answers." He now faced the man, who continued to eat his food. "I heard you were back in town."

"What do you think you're doing, Reynolds? There's families here. People." The man pushed his half-empty plate away from him. "You should leave while you still can."

"You get out of prison, and you don't call. You don't write." Reynolds picked up a fry from the plate and popped it into his mouth. "I hear you cut a deal."

"You heard wrong."

"Did I now?" Reynolds leaned back in his chair. "I don't want this. I don't want to hurt anyone." He looked at me, and I knew he was lying. "I just want to know what you told them. About me."

"What's the matter, Reynolds? You finally feel the heat?"

"Careful, Alex. Be careful." The man sighed, looking from Reynolds to a woman with a little, blond boy. "I would choose your words wisely."

"Let them go, Reynolds, and we'll talk."

"Nobody leaves until I get what I want."

"Which is what?"

"Answers." Reynolds spun around his chair and shot one man in the chest. He looked at Alex as a thud resounded throughout the diner, chased by cries and screams. "Just answers. That's all."

"Are you insane? You just killed a man in cold blood." Then, it dawned on Alex. This was Reynolds' last stand. "You can't do this."

"I just did. Tell me, Alex. What did you get out of screwing me over?" Alex refused to answer. "Nothing? No answer?" He now aimed his gun at the little, blond boy, but his mother tried to shield him as best as she could. "Two birds with one stone," Reynolds laughed.

"Wait!" Alex watched him lower the gun. "I wasn't going away all those years because of you, Reynolds. I made the deal. I gave them what they wanted, and they will bury you with it. Or you'll bury yourself by what you are doing here." Alex watched Reynolds' thug push those from the kitchen into the diner. "Let them go. Please. Let them all go."

"I have nothing left, Alex. You took everything, so why should I care about these people? They're afraid of me." He looked my way again. "I can smell their fear. I own them, and I own this town. This is my place to do what I want and when I want, and this is going down." He rose from his seat and glanced out the window. "Looks like a little bird spilled." He watched the sheriff's department surround the place. "My last stand," he said, "but you knew that already. You knew I was coming, so guess what, Alex?"

"What, Reynolds?"

"You get to live." He grabbed Alex out of his seat. "Go on." He dragged him to the door. "Get out." His thug was already holding the door open for him. "You can live with what I've done to these good people of this town. You can live with the fact that you condemned all of them to death."

"No!" Alex struggled in Reynolds' grip, but the man was too strong, too crazy. "No, Reynolds. No," but it was too late. He was hurled down the stone steps, and the glass doors locked in place.

"I never liked carrying a gun," she said. "My cousin insisted upon it, but I never fired it. I just carried it, and I knew they meant to kill us. Nobody was getting out alive."

I reached into my bag and withdrew the small, silver handgun. It was a gift, one that I did not want but took anyway. It was heavy in a delicate hand and hidden underneath the table. A quick glance to the waitress cowering nearby, and she knew what I intended. I just had to wait for him to come closer because he already decided that I would be next. It was him or me, and I would be damned, if I died here today.

"Stand up," Reynolds said to me. "Come on. Stand up. I'll make it fast." I remained sitting. "Fine." He shot me in the shoulder, and I fell back against the floor. "Make it difficult, and I will..."

My gun fired. I could feel the bullets slamming into his chest. His gun went off one more time, and then I watched it fall to the floor. He stumbled back, unsure of what just took place, and it gave the waitress a moment to grab those closest to her and run into the kitchen. And I wanted to join her, but a pain in my chest told me different. As everything went dark, a thunder of gunfire echoed into the distance.

It was a year later. I walked into the diner. The windows were boarded up. The floor was left in disarray. Dust claimed the furniture, and the kitchen was black with the ashes of death. I took a seat, and sunlight broke through. Suddenly, they were there. They were all there, and I turned to see Alex standing outside. He was the only one that was allowed to walk away, but he carried this burden. He would carry it until the day that he would die, and then she took a seat before me.

"I was just passing through," she said. "I only stopped here to grab something to eat and then head out to the road." Her voice paused. "But I'm here now. I'm here to say good-bye."