Carla: Book One - Michael

Prologue: The Beginning of the End

I bought a gun today.

I do not know how it happened, but somehow, I found myself standing in front of a gun shop. I must have been standing there for quite a while, because I suddenly realized I was getting strange looks from passers-by. Not understanding why, I looked up at the sign hanging in front of the little building which I had found myself.

Mueller's Gun Shop.

I was surprised! How on earth did I get here, I wondered. I couldn't remember thinking about guns, much less even deciding to visit a gun shop. I knew Mueller's Gun Shop, because I passed it every morning whilst going to work at my firm which was 2 blocks away. I had so much on my mind that I had decided to take a little walk down the street to clear my head.

And I ended up 2 blocks away, in front of a gun shop.

'Nigga you coming in or what?'

A gravelly voice emanating from a cigarette laden mouth. I could smell the sickly scent of cheap hand rolled tobacco, overlaid by the acrid smell of the rolling paper. The owner of the voice was an African American woman, dressed in a grey tee shirt and pants. Her short hair had streaks of white in it, giving her some sort of a middle aged look, but her almost wrinkle-less face and well-rounded body belied that. I couldn't fail to notice that she had no bra under the sweatshirt. I think it was a case of her ample chest looking at me, rather than vice versa!

I focused on her face. She returned my gaze coolly, the tip of the cigarette glowing as she inhaled deeply.

She removed the cigarette from her mouth, exhaled gently, head cocked to one side as she looked at me steadily. The smell of smoke was now mixed with the strong perfume she wore.

'You coming in?' she asked again. 'If it weren't that you were dressed so nicely, I woulda thought you were casing this joint!'

I smiled. My usual work attire was jeans and a long sleeved shirt, with a knee length jacket on top, just to give a smart casual look, topped off by a small executive suitcase.

Who in his right mind would case a gun shop?

She seemed to have seen the question on my face, and nodded knowingly.

'I see you aren't from downtown. You don't know these mawfucks down here in Rockie brother. They'd case a police station if they got the chance!'

She held the door wide open.

'I'll make your mind up for you homeboy. Come on in. You got time to waste, and I got guns to sell!'

After a moment's hesitation, I stepped in. The door silently swung shut and I heard the click as it locked behind me.

It was a small shop, with all sorts of guns lying on racks fixed to the walls. The glass sales desk was at the far end, facing the entrance. I followed her, lost in wonder as I gazed at the rows of gleaming death, marvelling at how such beautiful things could cause so much sorrow and pain.

The man behind the desk had a wide smile and an outstretched hand as I approached. His grip was strong, and I could feel the hard calluses, probably caused by years of manual work.

'My husband Vince,' said the lady. 'Doesn't talk much, but gets the job done.'

Vince laughed. 'Even the fool looks wise when silent, my friend. What can I do for you today?'

Vince had that calm easy going look of someone who had been through tough times, and knew how to handle himself. And of course, with a wife like his, he definitely had to be calm.

He went on.

'I'd been watching you all the time you were standing out there,' he said, pointing to a small screen which was in front of him. 'After deciding that you weren't planning to rob this place, I had Verna here go bring you in.'

I laughed.

'What if I was actually planning to rob the place or something?'

Vince smiled. 'Verna would have shot you.'

Verna pulled out a small pistol from the back of her sweatpants.

'This is my "meanie weenie",' she said with a smirk. 'I would have put two in your face before you could even bat an eyelid.'

That removed the smile from my face.

Vince had already started putting some handguns on the table.

'Looking at you Sir, I would think you're in here for a handgun,' said Vince.

' I really wasn't thinking of buying a gun actually,' I confessed. ' I was taking a little walk, somehow got daydreaming, and ended up in front of your shop.'

Vince gave me a searching look.

'Nothing is by accident son. Your feet took you where your mind wanted the body to go. If not, you would have probably still been walking.'

He brought out two more handguns, and put them on the glass desk.

I looked at the assortment of hand guns, and shook my head. I knew how to shoot a gun, but had never seriously considered owning one.

He gave me one to hold.

'This is a beaut,' he said. 'Lightweight, doesn't snag in the clothes, ten rounds of ammo in the mag. I would say it's for ladies, but then you aren't a cowboy, and it can put any man down for good.'

I turned over the gun in my hands. It was indeed beautiful. It was matte black in colour, with a mother of pearl finish to the handle, and definitely light as he said, though it was empty.

So beautiful, and so deadly.

I put it down.

'You know son, I've been looking into your eyes since you walked in here,' said Vince. 'And I've not lived for over 50 years for nothing. I know when a man is troubled, and looking for answers he can't find.'

He raised a hand as I opened my mouth to speak.

'Ain't none of my business son, so let me apologize for being intrusive,' he added. 'I just felt I had to say it, but I may be wrong. However, I feel it's my duty as a man to say something when a fellow black man has that look in his eyes as if the devil himself has been knocking at his door.'

I didn't know what to say to that.

Vince nodded knowingly. Opening a drawer, he brought out a small wooden box. Pushing aside all the other guns, he put the box down, and opened it carefully.

Inside was another gun, just like the one he had given me. However, this one had a silver finish to the handle, on which was ornately inscribed – Ephesians 6:12. I knew that verse like my name.

'For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.'

Vince looked impressed.

'You sure have been reading the good book son. You a preacher or something?'

I shrugged. 'My grandfather was a man of God. I learnt a few things.'

'That's good...ain't nothing a few prayers can't solve. However, even though this gun right here can't stop a spirit, I daresay it sure can stop a man that has a spirit!'

I was out of the shop a few moments later, my suitcase a few pounds heavier.

So, as I said before, I bought a gun today. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it, but time will definitely tell. However, with all that had happened over the past 8 months, and especially today, I know I have to make a decision.

I'll tell you the truth, I am afraid. I am afraid of something I do not understand, and I have every reason to be. My life is unravelling before my very eyes, and I feel helpless.

And all this chaos started three weeks ago.