Excellent A Gabriel Hope story. My Path Is True Chapter~6 by papa55mike

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. The early morning mist is being slowly transformed into frost crystals dancing in a cloud rising from the side of the road. They're searching for anything to attach themselves to, my eyebrows and toboggan seem to be their target right now. I'm walking down Scenic Highway 100 towards Toone, Tennessee. The sun is rising in front of me; I feel its warmth on my face. There's a sign ahead of me by a mailbox. Through the mist, I see the words, Chestnut Oak Farm. A long gravel driveway leads to a deserted barn in the distance, but an old farmhouse is less than one-hundred-yards away. I'd say it hasn't been here for thirty years. “I don't think the family would mind me making a fire and having a little breakfast behind the house. There ain't anybody around for miles.” My frozen breath joins the mist. Walking down the driveway, I can feel the faith it takes to start a farm. The still plowed fields are bare right now, but in the spring, somebody farms it. Chestnut Oak was probably swallowed up by a bigger farm. It happened a lot around here in the 1970s. The farmhouse is painted a metal gray with a rusty tin roof. Four red brick pedestals hold up wooden posts that support the long front porch roof that covers the entire front of the house. I think they could comfortably get four rocking chairs along the porch. “Mom and Pop's were right by the door.” Long windows that reach down to a foot above the porch greet you walking up to the front door in the middle. The old house seems to have a surprised look on its face. The tips of Bearded Iris's and the remnants of last summers Daylilies line the porch. “They probably still bloom every Spring.” Suddenly, I hear a car door open then quickly shut. It sounds like a four-cylinder motor starting behind the house. “If someone is hiding here, they couldn't have picked a better spot.” Quietly sliding my backpack over my shoulders, I head to the corner of the house. There's a bright red Ford Focus idling, behind a scruffy bush seems to be a little girl squatting down and using the bathroom. She has her back to me, and all I see is the back of the car. The Focus has a Shelby County license plate, but it expired in October. All in one motion, the little girl snatches up her clothes and scurries back to the car. She has on a pink jacket and blue jeans. That's all I could make out; she was a blur. I'm still studying the car when my eyes unsuspectingly meet hers in the side mirror. A look of horror explodes on her face, and she screams, her mother quickly turns to me and slams the car in reverse. Gravel flies when I step out and holler, “It's okay; I mean you no harm!” The car slams on the brakes right in front of me, the passenger window rolls down. A terrified woman with a huge gun pointed at me asks, “Who are you?” “Just a wanderer who was going to build a fire and make some breakfast behind this old house. I have enough for all of us if you're hungry?” I look down in the seat; the little girl is licking her lips. The mother's hands start to shake while she slowly lowers the gun, but her dark blue eyes never leave mine. “What do you have to eat?” “Well, it's what the Army calls MRE's. All you do is put them in boiling water. I have Spaghetti, Beef and Potatoes, and Mac and Cheese.” The little girl pops up in her seat and says, “I'll have the Mac and Cheese, please.” “You two stay here, and I'll go make a fire. Pull back behind the house, please?” The mother finally takes her eyes from mine, slides the gearshift into drive, and slowly pulls back behind the house. ~ There was good kindling under an old Oak tree behind the house. It only took me a minute to get a fire going. The bottled water in my pan is starting to boil. I've already taken off the cardboard liner from the MRE's and opened them. It's been an eventful few minutes inside the car that included screaming; phones thrown, faces slapped, followed by a lot of crying and hugging. That's one way to deal with it, whatever it is. “I wonder who they're hiding from?” Four eyes suddenly peer out the window while I put the bags in the water. I hear the little girl holler something then she gets out of the car, slams the door and snugs her pink jacket around her. With her best smile, she walks over to the fire and begins to warm her hands then sits down. Her glistening dark brown eyes slowly drift to my face, trying to peer deep inside of me. Now she's wondering if she can trust me. “Hi.” “The food will be ready in a few minutes.” What a lovely young woman, her long curly brown hair is thickly braided down her back. There's a gentile grace etched along the curve of her cheeks, but there's a hardness in her set jaw. She's had to grow up quickly. “Who are you?” “My name is Gabriel Hope, but you can call me Gabe. All of my friends do.” “My name is Maddie, short for Madison. Is this the last of your food?” “No, I have some more in my pack. Why are you guys hiding behind this old house?” “Because my stepfather wants to kill us.” “That's a good reason. You couldn't have picked a better spot to hide in.” “That's what mom said, but Vincent has a way of hunting us down.” “Vincent is your stepfather?” “Yeah,” she frowns. “Vincent was a cop in Memphis. Mom met him at a bar. Vincent was the sweetest thing until they got married and he moved into our three-room apartment. Suddenly, it seemed like he owned and controlled us. No matter what we did, it wasn't right. Vincent made mom quit her job; he wanted her to stay home and take care of him.” “Another way of controlling her.” “That's what I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen to me.” “How old are you, Maddie?” “I'm eleven and should be in the sixth grade. But I haven't been to school in three months.” “That's too young for this much trouble. Have you been living in the car that long?” “We tried living in a motel, but every time mom uses her credit card, Vincent finds us. He must have a trace on her card.” “Why does he want to kill you?” “Vincent told mom that nobody would ever have her, but him. Mom has one advantage over him; she has his phone traced. Right now, Vincent is on the other side of Nashville. Mom drove all the way there to get gas; then she flew back here. She knew Vincent take off to Nashville. He probably passed us on I-40.” “Hasn't she called the police?” “Three times, he just puts on this “good ole` boy” attitude and blames it on her. They'd laugh it off while mom bleeds in the kitchen after he's beaten her.” Maddie drops her head and says, “I know one thing, this has got to end soon or mom ain't going to make it much longer. I'm worried about her killing herself.” “Things an eleven-year-old should never have to worry about,” I shake my head and wonder. “You're right, Maddie. There needs to be a showdown, one way or the other; this needs to end.” I take out the packet of Mac and Cheese and slide it back in the cardboard heat shield and hand it to Maddie with a plastic fork. “Stir this up and let it cool a minute.” “What do you mean, Gabe, there needs to be a showdown?” Maddie takes the fork and stirs the packet then watches the steam rise. “Just what I said, she needs to call him and tell him where you are.” “Then he'll come to kill us.” “Maybe not,” I smile. “Most bullies will back down when you push back.” “No,” her jaw sets a little harder. “I know Vincent. He's a psychopath and won't stop until he kills us.” “Not if I can help it,” I smile at her. “Vincent doesn't know about me.” Maddie intently studies me then asks, “What are you, a bad-ass?” “Let's just say; I won't let him hurt you or your mom.” “He has guns!” “So do I.” “How many?” She's intrigued now. “I'm able to take him out if I have to, but I don't want to.” “Believe me; you'll have to.” “Is your mom strong enough to do this?” “I don't know,” her jaw hardens again, “but I am!” ~ The sun is warming the day nicely; I'm watching a Red Tail Hawk hunting a winter wheat field across from me. The discussion inside the car was heated. I'd say, Maddie's mother wants nothing to do with my plan. Fear has total control of her. I'm sitting under the Oak tree by the house when Maddie gets out of the car. She looks more determined than before. Walking towards me she says, “Mom wants no part of it, and she doesn't want me in it either.” Maddie takes out her phone. “But I'm calling him anyway,” she starts to dial his number. “Don't say a word, Vincent. If you want us, we're just outside of Toone, Tennessee. It's off Highway 100, a place called Chestnut Oak Farms. I'll leave my phone on so you can find us.” Maddie looks me in the eye. “He's on his way.” “Let's get ready,” I can't help but smile at her. I'm slowly unpacking my backpack and laying its contents on a blanket under the tree. My two handguns, sawed-off shotgun, and Asp batons. Maybe, my ten-inch hunting knife. An astonished Maddie asks, “What are you, a hit-man?” “No, sweetie,” I smile. “But I have killed many men in the Army.” “Oh,” she smiles. “Military training, maybe we do have a chance.” “Believe me; this will end when he gets here.” I pick up one of my Rugers, pop out the clip, and check the chamber, then lay it in the palm of my hand. “It fits perfectly in my hand. Now, I wrap my hand firmly around the gun, like this. You do the same thing.” I lay it back on the blanket. Maddie picks the gun and follows my instructions. “It's heavier than I thought, like this?” “Good, now hold it straight in front of you. Use two hands, if you want to.” Maddie uses both hands to raise the gun then smiles. “That's it. Do you see this button behind the trigger?” She nods a yes. “That's the safety; you have to push it in to fire the gun.” Maddie pushes it in then gently squeezes the trigger. “That feels good.” “When your old enough, consider being a soldier. You'd be awesome!” “I will. What's the plan?” “You'll be the distraction; I want him to see you when he pulls into the driveway. He will probably park then get out, thinking he has the situation controlled. He'll be concentrating on you. I'll take care of the rest.” Do I point my gun at him?” “As soon as he gets out of the car, show him you mean business by pointing the gun right at him. I'll have it loaded, and a bullet in the chamber. But talk to him at first and let me move in.” “All I have to do is release the safety.” “That's right. If Vincent reaches for his gun, pull the trigger, and get down.” “Mom said it would be at least two hours before he gets here.” “That's great; it will be about dark. Why don't you talk to your mom, tell her you love her and why you're doing this. I'm going to sit here and pray.” “Do you believe there's a God?” “Yes, I do. The Lord brought me here. Think about it, what are the odds that I would find you and your mother behind this house in the middle of nowhere? Slim to none.” Maddie walks back to the car, smiling. I see her mother vehemently staring at me. ~ The clouds are rolling in denying us a beautiful sunset but hiding the rising moon. There must be a chance of rain tonight. Maddie and her mother have been quietly talking for the last couple of hours. I can't believe how brave this eleven-year-old girl is, any father should be proud to call her his daughter. It's amazing how Satan has attacked every family in so many ways. Forcing these young women and young men to grow up fast or get run over by hopeless situations. “What happened to just being a kid?” Maddie slowly gets out of the car and says, “He's close.” “Do you remember the plan?” “Yes, sir!” Walking up to her in front of the car, I hand her the gun. “Remember the safety is on.” She takes the gun and starts to walk away then turns back to me. “Thank you, Gabe.” “Anything for you, Maddie.” She walks around the house. I turn to her mother and say, “You have an awesome daughter.” A tear escapes her mother's eye. Five minutes later, a pair of headlights pierce the darkening sky on Highway 100, lighting the trees across the road then stopping to read the sign. My laser focus kicks in when the lights turn into the driveway. He drives on until the small figure of a brave young woman comes into view. Vincent stops, slowly gets out and adjusts his duty belt. He unstraps his gun and walks in front of the car creating an evil shadow. He has one handgun and an old police baton. “I'm glad you called, Maddie. Let's go home and be a family again. Where's Cheryl?” He starts walking towards her. Maddie raises her gun. “Mom is not in this; you have to deal with me!” ~ Maddie's mother, Cheryl, is rocking back and forth in the car. She starts pounding the steering wheel, screaming, “No...No...No!” Cheryl grabs the gun and storms out of the car. ~ Vincent stops and asks, “Where did you get the gun, Maddie?” He slowly reaches for his gun and slides out of the holster. “From a friend.” Suddenly, cold steel presses against Vincent's temple. I feel him flinch when I say, “It's mine, I have it's twin right here. It's a Ruger P95; if you want to keep the top of your head, put your gun back in the holster.” There's movement beside me; I see a flash of steel. Time seems to freeze for a moment. Cheryl starts screaming, “No,” every time she pulls the trigger. Vincent shakes when the first bullet enters his body. It catches him in his right shoulder, his arm slumps. The second one hits his left thigh, but he's too stunned to reach for it. The third one hits his left chest, the fourth in his stomach. The fifth shot finds his heart, and he begins to fall backward. The sixth one hits his car; the motor starts pouring out steam from under the hood. Cheryl is still pulling the trigger when I slowly take the gun from her hand. “I think you got him.” Her eyes finally flutter, reality starts to filter in, fear grips her again. “Come on, Maddie. Let's get out of here!” “No!” She turns to me. “If you run, it's murder. But I'll stand with you in saying Vincent was going to kill Maddie. You took him out defending your daughter. It's called self-defense.” “He's right, mom,” Maddie walks up to her mother. “Call 911, we'll never have to run again.” She drops her gun beside Vincent, pulls her daughter close, takes her phone out of her pocket and dials the number. Maddie kisses her cheek then says, “It's over, mom.” For the first time, I see Cheryl smile. Author Notes Gabe has dealt with serious issues in this book. It's my way of bringing them to light. Domestic Violence is an unreported crime because the victim is too terrified to tell someone. Please, keep an eye for these symptoms: * Trying to explain away bruises. * Personality changes, like sudden low self-esteem. * Constantly checking on their partners. * Never having any money. * Overly worried about pleasing their partners. * Skipping out on work, school, or social gatherings with no clear reason. * Wearing clothes out of season, like long sleeves in the summer to cover up bruises. If you see any of these symptoms in a friend, pray, and try to find some help for them in your area. Many thanks for stopping by to read. Have a great day and God bless. mike

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