A Good Guy With A Gun, Page 2

  She was only seven when her father was sent up and he wasn’t around that much before that, so she didn’t really have a lot of memories of him. She never went to visit or write to him in prison.

  She hung out with Billy not so much because she was romantically inclined toward him, but because he was quiet and didn’t put any demands on her.

  She looked around again and said, “Is he still there? He just stands there staring at us. He’s just creeping me out!”

  On that note, she gathered up her backpack and left Billy alone in his spot against the wall.

  Billy glanced over again and Shupe was still there, standing under a tree, just glaring at him. It was not as though this was the first time either. Over the past couple of weeks wherever he found a place to hang out, Shupe would be not far away, just staring at him. This time though Shupe walked over toward Billy.

  “How ya doing son?” He said smiling.

  What did he want from him and what right did he have calling him son? Billy thought of him as a cop and he wasn’t sure if he was going to find himself in trouble with him. He struggled to his feet.

  “I-I’m okay.” Billy stammered.

  “Why’d your girlfriend take off? Have a fight?”

  “S-she’s not my girlfriend, and we didn’t have a fight.”

  “I noticed some of the other guys pickin’ on you. Must bother you some, right?”

  Billy wondered why this guy was paying so much attention to him. Wished he’d leave him alone.

  “They don’t bother me.”

  “Sure they do,” Shupe countered. “How old are you, son? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

  “Seventeen” Billy replied.

  Shupe looked Billy up and down and said, “You know you sort of remind me of someone - Do you know who?”

  Billy shook his head.

  “Me! I was just like you when I was your age. Didn’t have no friends. My old man was a drunk. He’d beat me up if I looked cross-eyed at him. I felt like a piece of shit, pardon the expression. Know what changed me?” Billy shook his head.

  “The Army!” replied Shupe.

  “The Army?”

  “ Yessir, the Army!” Shupe replied, “They put a gun in my hand and, man, that changed my life. I was no longer a piece of garbage anyone could kick around. I had a gun and I could fight back.”

  Billy was listening absorbed. This guy seemed to have him pegged.

  The school bell rang and Shupe patted him on the shoulder.

  “You’d better get going, but if anyone gives you a hard time, you come to me, hear?”

  Billy stumbled back to the school entrance still perplexed after listening to that man treating him like a friend.

  Chapter Five

  Wednesdays were the one day of the week Melissa most looked forward to. Although the school district had had massive cutbacks over the past three years, it was able to keep some semblance of an arts program going.

  Emory High School had a dance studio complete with video recording equipment, and an arts/music teacher who taught there three days a week. Melissa liked her. The last music teacher she’d had at her previous school was a total yokel. All he cared about was Old Thyme Country Music. She could almost hear his twang now. Mrs. Watson though was different. She was new to teaching and had spent enough time in big cities to get a feel for the local Black culture. She understood Rap and Hip Hop music, although some of the raunchier stuff offended her. Most of the other White students at Emory weren’t interested in that stuff. Melissa relished the chance to try out new moves to music in the dance studio.

  She spoke up, “Mrs. Watson, could I possibly come in after school today and work with you on some of the new dance moves I’ve been trying?”

  “I’m so sorry, Melissa,” said Emily “but I have a teachers meeting today. Maybe we could do it later this week or next week?”

  “Okay”, said Melisa, her disappointment showed.

  Emily Watson felt sympathetic toward her. She knew that Melissa was smart and talented, but just not motivated by the cookie cutter curriculum the high school offered. She also knew how hard things were at home, and she could tell whenever her mom had gone on a binge and fought with her. She really hoped that maybe she could help her.

  Chapter Six

  About a week after their conversation, Billy found Shupe in his usual perch under the willow tree. This time Billy came over to talk to him,

  “Not liking class much today?” asked Shupe, “That’s OK, I didn’t much care for that stuff either –— all that BS they teach you in History class! They got it all wrong. The real Patriots are the ones that shaped this country, and someday will reshape it again.”

  Billy didn’t hear much of what he said. He just kept staring at the handgun holstered on Shupe’s belt.

  He said, “C-could I look at your gun?”

  Shupe looked down at Billy, “Don’t call it a gun, it’s a handgun. A Glock nine millimeter, semi-automatic handgun to be specific. It deserves the respect to call it by its proper name”

  He glanced around to be sure no one was close by, then unholstered his sidearm and handed it to Billy, butt first. “This baby can stop anything!”

  Billy carefully took the gun with both hands, holding it as though it were a poisonous snake. It was heavier than he thought.

  “Is it loaded?”

  “Yessir!” Shupe spoke up sharply. “Always point it toward the ground, and keep your finger off the trigger. Hold it with respect, like you intend to use it!”

  “You ever fire a handgun?”

  “No Sir” replied Billy.

  Shupe pondered a moment, “How’d you like to come down to the shooting range with me someday after school and maybe fire off a few rounds?”

  Jesus! Someone was offering him a chance to shoot a gun!

  “Yes sir! I’d really like that!” Billy stammered.

  Shupe took back the gun and holstered it.

  “OK, maybe next Wednesday, after school. Until then you try and stay in class, OK?”

  He added, “Oh, and don’t go telling anybody about this. A lot of people don’t understand about guns and get real upset about good honest people shooting them. So for now it’s just between you and me. Got it?”

  Chapter Seven

  The following Wednesday, Shupe pulled Billy aside as he came out of the door after school.

  Quietly he said, “Be at the corner of Spruce and Fourth in about twenty minutes. I’ll be driving a green Ford pickup.”

  Billy’s eyes opened wide. “We gonna do some shooting?”

  Shupe nodded. “I hope you didn’t go blabbing about this to anyone. It’s bad enough I’m meeting you alone after school. If the people at the school ever got wind that I took you to a shooting range without your parent’s OK, I’d be toast.”

  “No sir,” said Billy, “No one else knows about this, I promise!”

  Twenty minutes later, Shupe pulled up to the curb where Billy stood waiting. They drove in silence for about twenty minutes along a paved state route east of Orange Grove. They turned off at a rutted dirt road and bumped along through a forest of slashed pine, and red mangrove trees. The dirt trail ended at a wire fence topped by barbed wire. A gate in the fence was secured by a chain and padlock. On either side of the gate were warning signs reading, Private Property No Entry, And Trespassers Will Be Shot.

  Shupe got out of the pickup and unlocked the metal gate, then drove through and relocked it. They drove on for a few hundred yards coming to a clearing in which stood a gray two-story farmhouse. A pickup was parked alongside the house and a man sat on the dilapidated porch. As they drove up, the man waved at Shupe but Shupe didn’t stop or acknowledge him.

  A few yards further they came to a cinder block three-sided shed with a tar paper roof in which sat a well scarred table. The open side of the shed faced a large open field.

  In the field, about 20 yards in front of the shed was a row of five wood pedestals on each of which was m
ounted a black life-sized torso cardboard cutout. The bottom of each pedestal was fitted with crossed foot-long metal feet to steady it but still allow it to be moved.

  Shupe reached into the space behind the pickup driver’s seat and pulled out a gym bag. He and Billy got out of the truck and Shupe placed the gym bag on the table and unzipped it. From it he withdrew two earmuffs, one of which he gave to Billy.

  “When we start shooting, you’ll want to put this on so you don’t damage your eardrums.”

  Next, he unholstered his Glock and pushed a button at the base of the grip to eject the magazine.

  “This is how you load it.”

  He fed six rounds of 9mm ammunition into the magazine. Standing legs apart, he raised the gun with both hands, squinted down the sights at one of the targets, and fired off six shots in rapid succession. Six holes were in the center bull’s-eye in the chest area on the target.

  “Nice shooting Clay!” came a voice from the back. “Too bad we can’t start shooting at the real targets. I hear they have about two dozen of them over at that high school you been babysitting!”

  The man who spoke stood in the shadows. He was slender but well-built. He wore a blue work shirt with sleeves cut off exposing tattoos on both forearms. The one on his left read Die Niggers, and on the right, White Power. His greasy hair was down to his neck and he reeked of motor oil and body odor.

  Shupe said “This is Billy, he wants to learn about guns and how to shoot.”

  The other man said, “Ya’ gonna teach him about the other stuff too Clay? Like why we need the guns to protect ourselves from the niggers!”

  Shupe turned and shot the man a glare. The man turned and walked away.

  Shupe took Billy into the shack and showed him how to load the six rounds into the magazine and then slide it into the grip of the gun. He made sure that Billy knew where the safety was, and that it was in the safe position.

  “Let me show you the proper stance for shooting a pistol, and how to steady the gun with both hands.”

  Standing behind him supporting Billy’s arms, Shupe’s fingers moved to the gun and slid the safety to the off position.

  “Okay, now sight down the barrel and squeeze the trigger.”

  Billy squinted then pulled the trigger. A loud bang accompanied by the recoil that sent Billy’s arms flying over his head. Shupe had anticipated this and braced Billy so that he didn’t go careening backwards with the gun flying out of his hands.

  Billy stood for a moment shaking his head and letting the ringing in his ears settle down. He had fired a gun, and a very powerful one at that! After a few more tries, Shupe told him to try it himself.

  Billy steadied himself like Shupe had shown him and then slowly squeezed the trigger.

  The first time the recoil flung his arms up, but by the third round, he was able to control it to the point where he actually hit the target.

  “Wow! That was fantastic”, said Billy, “Can I shoot some more?”

  Shupe loaded six more rounds in the Glock and carefully handed it to Billy. This time, Billy knew exactly what to do. He assumed the proper shooting stance with his arms extended and slid the safety to the armed position. He squinted down the sight and fired six more times in succession. He hit the target three out the six times.

  As Shupe cleaned his weapon at the table in the shed, Billy asked him about other guns Shupe had. Shupe told him all about the different types of handguns he owned and about the semi-automatic assault weapons he owned. He told Billy about banana clips that could hold more than 30 rounds and allow a person to fire off 30 rounds in the span of 26 seconds. Billy listened to all this totally transfixed. Nothing in his life ever seemed as powerful and captivating as this.

  As they drove back, Billy turned to Shupe and said, “What did that man mean by what he said about needing guns to protect against the niggers?”

  Shupe kept looking straight ahead. “Pay him no mind, Billy. That Jess Banks just don’t know to keep his big mouth shut.”

  “Does he own the range?”

  “Naw, he’s just the caretaker. The whole property is owned by a bunch of us guys.”

  “Like a gun club?”

  “Exactly”.

  They drove on in silence for another five minutes. Then Shupe said, “Did it bother you that he used the word nigger?”

  Billy wasn’t sure how to answer. He’d always accepted without question the word of his teachers that the term was insulting. The publically correct term was African-American or Blacks.

  Shupe said, “You have any friends who are ni….-Black?”

  Billy snorted. He didn’t have any friends—good, bad or otherwise. To Shupe he said, “No, not really.”

  They had reached the street where Billy lived.

  “I’ll leave you off at the corner and you can walk home” uttered Shupe .

  “Sure, and thanks again, Mr. Shupe. This has been really cool.” Billy replied.

  “Just remember, Billy, this is just between you and me. No one else knows! You got it?”

  “I promise Mr. Shupe”, said Billy, “Can we do this again?”

  “We’ll see - maybe next week - Maybe I’ll let you fire my assault rifle next time.”

  “Wow! Would that ever be great!”

  “See you then Billy – Remember not a word!”

  Chapter Eight

  Billy walked the short distance to his home in a trance. Wow was that ever great! He thought to himself. He could just imagine over and over in his head the feel of power in his hands. Shupe is an OK guy, he thought, he’s not creepy at all!

  Shupe pulled his pick-up into the driveway of his one story double-wide trailer house on the outside of town. He walked in and placed his gun in the locked cabinet in the hallway.

  “Where you been Shupe?” His wife called out from the kitchen, “I had dinner an hour ago without you!”

  “You been at one of your secret meetings again?”

  “You shut the fuck up about that, woman! Mouthing off like that is going to get you nothing but a lot of trouble from me – and you don’t want that kind of trouble!” He growled threateningly.

  “Now get me a beer! And where the fuck is that slut of a daughter or yours!”

  Madge was a small mousy woman. She was afraid of him for good reason. He had beaten her on more than one occasion, and twice the police had been called but no formal charges were ever filed. Her daughter, Stephanie, was a love child by another man. Stephanie was eight when Madge met Shupe after he got out of the Army. He and her daughter didn’t get along much. Once he caught her flirting with an older Black boy and he beat her. In any case, he certainly was capable of anything. She’d made up her mind that she’d do what she had to do to protect her daughter.

  Madge knew very little about the secret meetings that Shupe went out to from time to time. She just knew that they were with people she had no desire to ever meet. She had no idea what they did at those meetings or what they talked about, nor did she ever wish to. At least when he went to those meetings he’d be out of the house and she and her daughter would be safe.

  Chapter Nine

  Billy could not keep the pistol shooting lesson Shupe had given him out of his mind. He could hardly wait to see his new found friend again and maybe learn more about the guns he had. It was all he could do to keep from telling Melissa about it, but he kept to his promise.

  The day after they’d been to the range, he spied Shupe at the school entrance.

  “Hey Shupe! How’s it going!” Billy yelled.

  Shupe strolled up to Billy. In a quiet, menacing voice, he said “Listen Billy, when I am at school, you don’t know me! You got it!”

  Billy gulped, “Okay Shupe”.

  Shupe modulated his tone “Look kid, it’s for both of our own good. You keep your distance while I’m on duty and I’ll still keep my promise about going to the shooting range with you”.

  Billy sighed, relieved that he hadn’t offended Shupe.


  “Ok, I’ll keep my distance at school!”

  After a while, Billy ditched his one o’clock class and headed for his usual perch. After a few minutes, Melissa came over to where he was sitting and plopped down next to him.

  “God I hate this school!” she let out. “If it weren’t for arts/music class I’d die!

  “What’s up with you Billy? – You seem like the cat that ate a canary. Do you want to tell me about it or let me guess?”

  Billy just grinned and said “Sorry, its nothing I can share with you Melissa, it’s sort of personal.”

  “What! Do you actually have a date or something? Maybe even a real girl friend?” Melissa teased.

  “I just can’t say!” Billy said barely containing a grin.

  “Anyway Billy, I need your help. I want to do a video of some new dance moves I’ve been working on and I need you to handle the video equipment.”

  “I don’t know how to use that stuff!” protested Billy.

  “It’s easy”, Melissa countered, “I’ll show you how to set it up and tape it, and then transfer it to DVD. They have a whole studio full of equipment in the dance room. You’ll get the hang of it in no time!”

  “When did you want to do it?” asked Billy.

  “We can sneak in there after school. The room is supposed to be locked, but Mrs. Watson usually leaves it unlocked for me to go practice in. So are we on for later today?” pleaded Melissa.

  “Okay”, replied Billy.

  Later that day, he kept his word and met up with Melissa after everyone had gone home. They opened the unlocked studio door and walked into the darkened room. Melissa turned on the lights and Billy stood astounded by the large mirrored dance studio before him.

  “Wow! I’ve never been in here before! It’s huge!”

  “Come over here Billy”, said Melissa.

  Melissa went into another darkened room with a large glass window that faced into the dance studio. She turned on the lights revealing a large computer console and a video camera on a tripod.

  Billy walked over the equipment.

  “What do I do?” he inquired.

  Melissa showed him how to manage the computer sound system, and then how to operate the video camera. After a couple of tries, Billy got the hang of it. She then showed him how to transfer the recorded video from the camera to a DVD in the computer.