Vince and John

April 10, 2012
By Jordan Parmenter BRONZE, Eugene, Oregon
Jordan Parmenter BRONZE, Eugene, Oregon
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

It was dark. I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed. My eyes ached; I reached to rub them but was stopped by a restraint. One arm was cuffed to a wall. Annoyed, I used my other hand and tried to clear my head. How did I get here? While trying to recall, l heard a voice in the distance.

“Awake yet?”

“Who are you?” I replied.

I made my voice deeper on purpose to try and show dominance.

“Don’t worry about it. Why did those guards throw you in here?”

It all clicked right then. I remembered.

“I was one of Porfirio Diaz’s closest General’s. But, he locked me away forever because I tried to murder him.”

“Well that wasn’t very smart now wa-?”

“He murdered my wife in front of me for no good reason.” I said, cutting him off.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I didn’t say anything after that. I wanted to ask why he was in there, but didn’t feel much like talking. Besides, he sounded old and thinking back, old people never stop talking once they start.

A night passed and I was bored. It was either talk to the other guy or think to myself. I preferred myself. At some moments I almost wished I had talked to him because I was dangerous alone with my thoughts. I contemplated suicide at one point and almost brought myself to tears. I also planned my murder for Porfirio and even fantasized. Oh how I’d love to see his blood spilled. It was much more than revenge. It was more circle of life. In fact, he not killing me was a mistake. It’s a dog eat dog world and once I broke out, which I was determined to do, I would, well, eat the weaker dog.

A week went by, or at least that’s what it seemed like, and I broke. I needed someone to talk to.

“So what’s your name anyways?” I asked trying to out talk the bullets I could hear.

“John. What’s yours?”


“Vince, you sound like a stout young man.”

“The sights I’ve seen have made me mature fast.”

“You sound like you are in your twenties”

“Nineteen.” I replied.

“I remember when I was that age.”

Here we go I thought to myself.

Suddenly a crash came through the wall right beside me interrupting John and freeing the stone that was connected to the cuff. It was a Sedena-Henschel HWK-11. I could tell because nothing else could clear a wall like that. Startled, I noticed John wasn’t free. Not enough time. I had my goal; I knew Porfirio was out there. Running away I could hear him screaming and begging me to come back. Before jail I probably would have went back, but I was a changed man. I found a gun and ducked behind a giant rock wall, I would only be safe for a matter of seconds. Anenecuilco, Morelos was a small-gated town; I could see the gate was open. My plan was to kill Porfirio and get out as fast as I could. I heard his voice. I glanced over and he was standing there. It was a war between guerillas and the military because in my hands was an AK-47, the weapon of choice for the guerillas. I carefully took aim, hands trembling it hit me, and I was about to murder my hero and mentor. I had to; I had to do it for my beautiful children and the woman I loved. I pulled the trigger. I missed. I quickly ducked trying not to be seen and wondered if my body made me miss on purpose. I hardly ever missed. Shots fired over my head, I had been spotted. No time to be weak now, it was killed or be killed. I peeked over and quickly ducked back down after taking a shot to the shoulder. It was bad and I was bleeding profusely. Weak I looked back over and without aiming held down the trigger as the assault rifle poured out bullets. I hit him. There he was dead. I took a second to soak up the moment. Quickly regaining consciousness I threw the gun down and started running. I ran by the building I was once held captive and saw John was free. I saw the gate and I felt a burst of energy rush through my body as I pushed hard to get there. No bullets came my way and all of the sounds were flushed out of my head as I was in bliss. Thinking of how I was going to restart my life. I suddenly lost my breath. I felt my chest, it was wet. I could smell the blood and without looking down or looking at my hand I knew it was mine. I fell to my knees and managed to collapse on my back. I looked to the gate, literally twenty feet away. I looked up to the clock tower and saw a shadow, squinting I saw the face of my killer. It was John.

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