Maggie's Story

Chapter 28

Last Call

They hogtied me, my shoulders and arms tied behind to my feet and legs. The tall, thin, but substantial guy with light brown hair threw me into the trunk like a duffel bag. I'm not that heavy so it wasn't hard. Because I was hogtied, I couldn't kick out a taillight or kick anything for that matter, to bring attention to myself. It's funny what goes through your mind when you know that things aren't going your way and that the consequences might be more than you bargained for. I only had one regret, that my little baby son, my poor Bear would grow up not knowing his mother. Greg wasn't going to be very good at raising him alone. But, Theresa and Jack would be there. They'd probably take Bear in whenever Greg needed a break. Bear would be okay. I wondered how Greg would take my death. He'd be so pissed. Probably more pissed than sad, because that would be his way of coping. Once again I was praying that Greg would be okay, Bear too.

These thoughts flittered around while I also planned my next move. I thought about ways to overpower the two brutes that had me in their possession. I had no gun, no knife, no baseball bat, nothing to give me an advantage and I was hogtied. I wasn't exactly the strongest person on earth so the only chance I really had was when we stopped to immediately check out my surroundings and try to use them to my advantage.

The car turned and traveled down gravel and then a rocky, dirt road, with ruts and lots of bumps. We stopped and I could hear them talking inside. The doors slammed and the trunk opened. The June evening was still light enough for me to see my surroundings. They pulled me out by the ropes and threw me on the ground, dirt and grass filling my mouth. We were in the middle of the woods, the fireflies lighting up in the grass, the crickets making their noise as the sun went down. I looked around, we were on flat, level ground, nothing for me to roll down or hide in or under. I saw nothing that I could use as a weapon, even if I could get untied.

The shorter one, the one that looked like a stereotypical mafia hood, bent down with a knife. I knew he wasn't going to kill me with a knife; the Mob would only take another gang leader out with a gun to the back of my head, so I wasn't worried that he was going to cut my throat. He cut the rope, my arms freeing up; my aching muscles relaxing.

They both pulled out their guns, the short mafiosa stepped behind me. The taller guy held out his hand, "Wait, let her make right with God." He looked almost contrite, "I mean, she's Catholic too; let her say the last act of contrition."

The voice behind me reluctantly said, "Yeah, okay."

The tall guy nodded to me, "Go ahead, but no drawn out monologues."

There was nothing I could do. They were positioned in a perfect angle to kill me if I went after one of them. I'm a fighter, but the best I could hope for was to stall, so I made the sign of the cross and began, out loud,

"Forgive me my sins, O Lord, forgive me my sins;
the sins of my youth, the sins of my age, the sins of my soul,
the sins of my body; my idle sins, my serious voluntary sins;
the sins I know, the sins I do not know; the sins I have concealed
for so long, and which are now hidden from my memory.
I am truly sorry for every sin, mortal and venial,
for all the sins of my childhood up to the present hour.
I know my sins have wounded Thy Tender Heart,
O My Savior, let me be freed from the bonds of evil through
the most bitter Passion of My Redeemer.
O My Jesus, forget and forgive what I have been.

Lord, please grant my husband patience with his son and love in his life,

Grant my son health and love in his life,

Grant my brother long years with his family

Grant everyone peace when they bury me.

Amen."

I looked up at the guy who had let me say my Act of Contrition, he was growing antsy as the woods grew darker around me. I looked around for the cavalry and, seeing none coming to my rescue, I nodded to him that I was ready. I continued to pray to myself for my husband and my son, my soul.

The man behind me said out loud, "Man, I've never killed a woman. A mother." He sounded nervous, upset at this.

The other guy cocked his gun to give the one behind me courage. I heard the gun behind me cock and his sad, Philly accent say, "I'm sorry lady, I hope God forgives me."

It was a millisecond, but it seemed to go by in slow motion. There was the sound of the bullet loading. I saw my son's perfect little face as he slept and then Greg's face, just after sex, when he's relaxed and happiest. I wanted so much to tell them both how much I loved them, how sorry I was for thinking I could make this all work. I felt the gun's barrel next to my head; I heard the loud pop of the primer igniting, I felt the concussion, all went black.

Readers: Next Chapter is the Last! Again, I hope you have enjoyed this story!