It's the end
It’s New York City – at one of its rare, rustic and remote outskirts – a raucous and vibrant city but at that particular night it turned into a melancholy one. It began as a lovely drizzling Friday which culminated to a downpour noisily manifesting its presence on the roof of a lush house dampening it outside – leaving a stark contrast to the dry, gloomy and haunted mood inside.
Slow pacing footsteps squeaking on the wooden floor of the living room stops in front a big couch facing the house’s main door. A weird looking man lifelessly throws his weight on it. All mundane and ordinary on the surface yet an empty broken being within. Blue and tired eyes with bags that show many sleepless nights, a beard and thick, black unkempt hair borne more evidently in middle age.
The man looks intently to a picture on the wall directly in front of his slumped figure on the couch. The man on the picture in a red Buddhist nightcap coat looks eerily identical. The man on the picture seems to vanquish bitter reality of the slumped figure on the couch. The picture is a healthy, optimistic and vigorous contrast to the man on the couch.
The man frozen on the picture seems to love and hate it at the same time. He surveys his surroundings and finds himself staring at a small round table beside him cluttered with empty bottles of alcohol. Desperately, his eyes kept searching for any drop the bottles may have to offer but he knew he already drank it all.
Suddenly the man reaches into the right pocket of his ignominious red nightcap coat and grabs what is even more ignominious inside – his old revolver! He opens the cylinder, chambers a bullet and cocks the hammer – Russian Roulette.
With a shivering hand, the man points the gun straight to the picture. His forefinger squeezes the trigger then suddenly changed his mind. He points it to his right temple while scrutinizing the picture. He points the gun back to the picture as if there was rapturous debate inside of him whether he deserved the first shot. Again he points back the gun to his head while hesitantly squeezing the trigger. The cylinder ticks making the sound of the empty chamber. The empty chamber was mocking that maybe the next one has the fatal bullet. The man aims at the picture and shoots. Empty. He turns the gun back to himself this time with conviction thinking this time the bullet will choose him and grant an end his miserable and meaningless life. He squeezes the trigger. The third attempt announces his survival. He points back the gun to the picture and squeezes – the blasting sound of the bullet echoes in the house. The bullet shatters the glass creating a hole in the chest of the man depicted in the picture. The man wins the Russian Roulette and the picture is finally dead but not its memory.
Lightning strikes. It illuminates the living room, showing clearly the man’s face and eyes, a stream of tears running his eyes drenching his beard. After a moment of silence, he dips his hand in his pocket but this time retrieves two bullets and places them randomly in the chambers and spins then locks the cylinder. He raises the gun up and presses the tip of muzzle right to his forehead as he deeply looks to the torn picture. He talks to it and says in a faint voice, “Now it’s my turn”.
He slowly pulls the trigger with eyes tightly shut. He is conscious of movement of the hammer when suddenly a loud bang on the door interrupts his lethal game. A face of a terrified man pears through the upper glass panel of the door. He bangs the door using all the strength he has, shouting, “Julian! What the hell are you doing! Please stop it!”.
The man stares blankly at his friend and he pulls the trigger but nothing happens. The man outside glaring with terrified eyes. He starts hitting the door with his shoulder while pleading to Julian. He fails breaking in but still tries and pushes more and more. Finally he breaks through. Julian is just a few feet away! Julian pulls the trigger again disregarding the efforts of his faithful but terrified friend from saving him. And while the man runs to Julian, he almost sees the hammer hit the pin! His eyes expecting to see Julian’s brain splatter but miraculously the revolver let Julian down.
The entire situation seemed to be in slow motion as Julian’s friend is about to reach him on the couch while Julian is about to make another try which will only take a fraction of a second. Julian is certain this time. Two bullets in six holes and so quickly he pulls at the same time as his friend leap and almost fliess towards him. Both feel all the action in milliseconds. Memories of Julian’s life was flashing: his childhood, his career as a lawyer, his life changing trip to India. Julian clearly sees his friend John flying in midair less than a feet above him when suddenly the hammer hits to finish its mission. It fires and supersonic death begins its journey at the same exact time John falls down on him.
A thick splatter of blood instantly covers John’s face while the body of his friend rests with no movement. John terrifyingly shakes Julian’s body, he screams in panic trying to stop the fountain of blood coming out of his forehead, he carries him, runs out of the house, goes toward his pickup and puts Julian in it. He drives frantically with the heavy rains reducing the visibility of the road. He tries to reach the nearest hospital, and while he is driving, he looks at his motionless friend. He focuses his vision on the road and weeps saying, “What the hell did you do to yourself, Julian?”
Finally, he reaches the hospital and runs to alert the medics and rapidly they treat Julian in the ER. About ten of the staff surrounds Julian’s lying body trying to revive him. The nurse takes John out of the room to let the doctors do their work and to get some information from him, “Sir! Please calm down and tell me your name and the patient’s name, and what happened exactly?”.
John’s eyes didn’t move from watching through the glass panel of the emergency room trying to figure out if his friend is alive or not, so he answers without thinking, “I’m John Loudon and he is my friend Julian Mantle”.
She asks again, “So what happened to Mr.Mantle?”.
John hesitates to tell the truth so he looks to her but then tries to avoid her eyes so she wouldn’t catch him lying then he anxiously says, “I don’t know, I think someone shot him. By chance I was visiting him. Please go to the room and tell me how he is doing, is he dead or alive?”.
The nurse says, “Please! Let the doctors do their best, and rest here till they finish and we’ll keep you informed”.
John squats putting his hands on either side of his head recalling all the memories he has with his best friend. He couldn’t imagine Julian with all his wisdom could let depression have its way and make him contemplate suicide. While John was immersed in his thoughts, a middle age doctor wearing his white coat came hurriedly. With emotionless face he looks to John and says “Hey Mr Loudon, it seems your friend is the luckiest man in New York tonight. Luckily the bullet didn’t penetrate his skull. It just went less than three millimeters through the corner of his right temple. The resident suspects a foiled attack or a suicide. I am leaning on suicide attempt. I’ve got to report to the police right away”.
The ER doctor was writing the report while verifying details with John in front of the emergency room. John listened all while looking at Julian’s bed through the glass panel of the ER then he disquietingly looks to the doctor and says, “Please Doctor, there is no need to report to the police. Mr. Mantle is a respectable and well-known lawyer and spiritual mentor. This will damage his career”.
Suddenly the doctor stopped writing, and he looked John straight in the eye and said, “Julian Mantle?!”
John surprisingly responds, “Do you know him?”
The doctor kept looking to John as if he recalled some old memory then took his pen and rewrote his report and said, “Mr Loudon, this time I’ll support the claim of a resident but I don’t think that Mr Mantle will get the same luck again, once he recovers we are sending him for psychiatric consultancy”. Then the doctor looked back to John and patted his shoulder saying, “Please take good care of him, good friends like you are precious commodity these days.” Then he walked away leaving John stunned from the sudden change of his attitude.
Before the doctor went far, John shouts, “Did you know him from before?”.
The doctor looks back to John and says with a solemn smile “Thirty years ago, the foundation of Mr Mantle, Sr. was the reason why a poor young boy coming from a poor neighborhood,” then he looked to Julian’s room and continued, “to become an ER doctor to save precious people’s lives.” The doctor continues his way, leaving John’s mouth open and eyes in shock .
The doctor stays at the cafeteria eating his breakfast, he finishes quickly and he takes the report of Julian, he walks toward his room, and opens the door, but suddenly he finds all the tubes and cables unplugged, he runs to the bathroom and he finds nothing, so he runs to the nurses desk shouting at them saying, “Where is the patient of room forty three?” The whole staff of the hospital went anxiously searching for Julian everywhere, except one male nurse that was walking calmly fitting the hood at his head, lowering his face and leaving the main entrance of the hospital, stopping a cab and heads back home.
