Nate still thought that going to the cops was a good idea. We argued for a while about the best way to go about dealing with the situation. We talked about leaving the city and going away. We discussed hiring thugs to scare Jim. We even considered telling his family!
None of these ideas were remotely sensible, as we well knew. They were just a way to avoid mentioning the only solution that we knew would work.
I knew that there was only one way to stop Jim. There was only one way to ensure that we would be safe from him. But I was too afraid to mention it at first. When I finally did, Nate reacted in a way I had never expected him to. I had been worried that he would freak out.
Instead, he nodded slowly and said, “How do you want to do it?”
“I think it is best if we call him over and do it here,” I suggested. “It will be easier to deal with everything.”
Nate agreed with me. We started talking about the details of our plan. It had to be done right or we would end up in a far worse situation. As we talked, I worked in the kitchen. I cut bread and toasted it. I sliced ham, cucumbers, and tomatoes. I spread mayo over the toast, layered it with the sliced vegetables and meat, and seasoned everything.
Then I added a special ingredient. These were special sandwiches. I was making them especially for Jim.
When I was done, Nate rang Jim and asked him to come to my apartment. Five minutes later, the doorbell rang. I had calmed down after Nate’s arrival. Now, I started panicking again. What were we thinking? It would never work! Everything was going to go wrong! I rushed to stop Nate from opening the door. Jim would not dare to break it down. I reached the door a second too late.
Jim pushed the door opened and staggered inside. He reeked of drink. I gagged and stepped away from him. Even Nate looked a little stunned. This was a Jim neither of us had ever seen. Was he possessed? I would have been certain of it if I’d believed in demons or possession.
Perhaps, I thought with a growing feeling of relief, he was possessed. Not by a demon but by drink. Perhaps, unnoticed by his closest friends, Jim had become an alcoholic. Or even a junkie. That would explain a lot! I felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow for my childhood friend.
The next moment, my empathy was speedily replaced with terror as Jim drew a large knife from his belt and lunged at Nate. Nate managed to sidestep Jim and grabbed his wrist. I quickly closed the door. There was no need to draw attention to whatever was about to happen.
If Jim had been sober, things might have turned out very differently. As it was, Jim lost his balance wrestling with Nate over the knife, leaving the deadly weapon in Nate’s hand. Nate stood there, looking at the fallen Jim with a strange look in his eyes. I felt that he would stab Jim then and there! Then, with an effort of will, Nate turned away and dumped the knife in the kitchen sink.
Jim managed to stand up using the wall for support. He still looked murderous even though he was swaying wildly. How did he manage to stay upright despite all that lack of balance?
“I’m going to kill you both!” he shouted at Nate.
“No, you won’t,” Nate said confidently, his voice surprisingly calm.
I went to stand by him. My heart was thudding loudly enough to disturb the next-door neighbors! My arms and legs were growing cold with fear. What was going to happen now?
This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2.0
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