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Two Way Street

Ronald Brunsky

    His sinister features sent chills and a sense of foreboding through her. Her insides tightened, as his soulless, dark eyes temporarily froze her in place. She felt an immediate dislike and, hatred, although a more primal instinct—fear began filling her psyche.
    Sally had been waitressing for over twenty years, and never had she arrived at such an instant analysis of a person. She was rarely wrong about first impressions, but she hoped, no prayed that this time she was.
    The hulking, giant of a man lumbered to a seat at the counter. Several days unshaven, his thick, greasy, black hair had obviously not seen a comb or soap and water in some time. His mouth was constantly working a toothpick from one side to the other. Momentarily, he stopped as he focused in on Sally.
    As she approached, she winced from what could only be described as an unrelenting stench permeating from his being. It wasn’t just body odor; it had the definite added scent of evil.
    But if Sally was anything, she was a trooper. Regaining her composure, she forced a smile, “Coffee?” she asked.
    After his affirmative nod, her will to remain cool quickly vanished as his canvassing stare surveyed every inch of her. His sinister thoughts were more than obvious. In that second, she felt violated and powerless, her knees buckled and it was all she could do to maintain her self control and retreat to the kitchen.
    The diner was filling rapidly, and a river of coffee was being dispensed 16 ounces at a time. Workers from the two adjacent office buildings took advantage of their last respite before returning to the forty hour grind, by grabbing a cup of Joe and a danish.
    “Everything ok?” asked Billy, the manager, as Sally approached the coffee machine.
    “I’m not sure. That burley guy at the counter gave me some once over.”
    “Oh, come on Sal, you still look like a million bucks. You gotta expect a little flirting from the customers once in a while.”
    “It’s not that. I’ve never felt so shaken. He gives me the willies.”
    “Alright, I’ll keep an eye on him. But you better get moving. This place is really filling up.”
    Sally soon put the man out of her mind, as more customers poured in. She loved the breakfast hours the best, the fast pace gave her such a rush. It was the time of day that she really shined. Taking orders without a pad, never letting a coffee cup empty or failing to cheer up a down customer.
    One of the regulars strolled up to the counter and waived to Sally.
    “Just coffee this morning, I’m running a little behind,” said Rick.
    “Just a sec hun,” replied Sally.
    She brought Rick over a cup to go.
    “We’ve been crazy this morning. I hope the family’s fine. You’ll have to bring them in for Friday’s fish fry.”
    “Maybe we’ll just do that. You take care. I’ve got to run.”
    Sally waved good bye, and headed into the kitchen for a short break. She was about to sit down when she noticed Billy, who was helping the cooks set the orders in the pickup window for the waitresses, race through the swinging doors and out of the kitchen.
    Two cracking sounds that shook all the pot, pans and utensils hanging in the kitchen rang out. Looking through the kitchen pick-up window, Sally was horrified as Billy’s body flew backwards—blood flying everywhere. He had charged the man at the counter when he saw him brandish a firearm, but reached him too late. Billy hit the floor like a ton of bricks, and laid there motionless.
    Panic ensued as the patronage rushed for whatever shelter they could find. A few lucky ones were able to escape out the front door before the gunman trained his gun in that direction
    As screams for help echoed, the large man turned his attention to Rick who was at the cash register. He fired twice hitting Rick’s back and shoulder. Falling down he managed to crawl behind the cash register.
    The man followed to finish him, but turned his attention to a rookie policeman who was desperately trying to unbuckle the strap holding his revolver in his holster.
    “God damit, I can’t unsnap it. Son of a bitch...come on, come on.”
    Sally knelt to aid Billy, but it was obvious that nothing could be done. Slipping on the blood, she regained her footing and ran unnoticed to the back exit. She hid behind the garbage dumpster and tried to gain enough composure to call 911.
    When the young cop finally was able to release the strap and draw his weapon, the madman had already drawn a bead on him. “Pop, pop,” two more shots rang out and the policeman fell to the floor. Another man tried to reach the cop’s gun, only to be the forth victim.
    The rampage continued, as he randomly selected his victims and then at point blank range killed them with head shots. Emptying his first clip, he quickly loaded another and continued to pile up the carnage.
    An elderly woman’s screams drew the gunman’s attention. The woman’s husband stepped in front to shield her, as the gunman closed in.
    But before he could zero his weapon in, a shot came from outside the diner dropping the killer. A fully armored swat team member rushed in and kicked the handgun away from the body. He holstered his weapon and surveyed the bodies—eleven no twelve.
    Several ambulances pulled up to the diner, and E.M.T.s evaluated the victims. All were pronounced dead at the scene except for Rick and the killer, who were swiftly placed on gurneys, moved to the ambulances and rushed to the E.R. at Memorial Hospital.
    The emergency room staff met the incoming rescue squad, and rushed both men to the O.R., where surgical teams were standing by. Monitoring equipment and I.V.s of whole blood were administered to both patients. Surgery began to repair their wounds, but within a few minutes both men flat-lined.
    The crash team worked feverishly on Rick for some time before his heart was pumping on its own again. Attempts to revive the gunman were futile. This team seemed to be just going through the motions—with no intensity in their effort. They commented after on how it was a good thing and saved the tax payers the cost of a trial.
    Surgery to repair Rick’s wounds was successful and he was sent to I.C.U. in critical but stable condition.
    Rick’s wife, Katie waited anxiously for word on her husband. When the Head surgeon Dr. Frank Otto entered the visiting room, she looked for the all telling body language. No clear signal was given at first, but then a smile from the doctor spoke volumes.
    “I think we got to him in the nick of time,” said Dr. Otto. “He lost a lot of blood and gave us a pretty good scare, but I think he’s out of the woods. We’ll keep a good eye on him, for the next few hours.”
    Dr. Otto left the visiting room, and went immediately to find his old friend and colleague Dr. Bernsand.
    “I thought you might be interested in my latest patient?”
    “How so?” said Dr. Bernsand.
    “Well, we lost him for over fifteen minutes. And I know how you are gathering information on life after death cases.”
    “Have you had a chance to talk to him?”
    “No, he’s still in recovery. I thought you might be even more interested in this particular one?”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Well, there were two patients brought in from that shooting at the diner downtown.”
    “Yeah, I heard.”
    “Rick, who survived, and the shooter who didn’t, but what’s interesting is that they both crashed at the exact same time. I know you have an additional twist on the subject of life after death.”
    “Oh, you mean my two way street theory.”
    “Yeah, that’s the one.”
    “Well, it would seem logical,” said Dr. Bernsand, “that if somebody died and went to the afterlife, they would encounter other souls? Also when a body is revived, a temporary path would connect the earthly world to the afterlife.”
    “Sure, I’ll buy that,” said Dr. Otto.
    “So once this path back to humanity is opened,” said Dr. Bernsand. “Who’s to say another soul couldn’t have the same access as the original owner?”
    “Especially, when so many people report their afterlife experience so pleasant, maybe the original owner is in no hurry to return.” said Dr. Otto. “But others might jump at a chance to avoid their feared judgment?”
    “Interesting hypothesis isn’t it,” said Dr. Bernsand.
    “I think it’s a very scary one,” said Dr. Otto
    Six months went by before the diner reopened. They had a grand reopening and invited all of their regular customers to attend. People piled in to support the reopening of the restaurant, with Sally greeting everyone at the door. She had recovered from that terrible day, and was thrilled to meet her old friends, and be back at work.
    Although, she hadn’t been wounded; she did suffer what combat soldiers would call “Shell Shocked” or the more recent term, “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” It took several months of therapy before she could work or even mingle with people.
    It was obvious that she had a full recovery. Bouncing from one table to another, with that infectious smile, she certainly looked like her old self. Sally had always been the main reason that people came in here. She was the heart and soul of the place. And everyone was glad things were back to normal, or at least as normal as they could be.
    After taking all the orders in her section, she noticed a familiar face at a back table. It was Rick of all people. She hadn’t the chance to visit him since the ordeal, what with her own problems, and was anxious to see him.
    Excitement filled her, as she moved closer to say hello. Taking a deep breath, she suddenly stopped in her tracks. There was no mistaking that smell. Violently shaking she ran back to kitchen. The other waitresses came over to see what was wrong.
    “What is it Sally?” asked Carol.
    Sally wasn’t coherent. She was in a state of shock.
    “No please, not again,” Sally muttered.
    After finishing a cup of coffee, Rick leaned back in his chair. Casually, he looked over the diner. A sneer settled in on his visage. Reaching into his pocket, he placed a toothpick in his mouth. His fists clenched and opened, as he methodically worked the toothpick from side to side.



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