It was a dark and stormy night. I had been driving for only an hour after eating a very spicy meal at a Mexican restaurant. The rumbling in my lower abdomen was telling me that I had better find a toilet and soon. Luckily, I saw a sign for a roadside rest just 2 miles ahead. I hoped I could make it.
I pulled into the closest parking space to the building as I could. The place looked deserted, but from sidewalk to door was still about 30 feet. I pressed the door lock button as I exited the car and walked to the building. The outside light above the door was very dim. I wondered if it was the bulb or the dead bugs piled inside its cover. I opened the door and looked for a convenient stall. Before I could decide, I heard a voice behind me.
“Hey, you. Turn around,” said the voice.
I turned to see a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and knotted greasy hair, wearing grubby clothes. And he was pointing a revolver at my belly.
“If you don’t want to die, give me your car keys and your wallet. And do it now.” The man’s eyes were dark and emotionless. I couldn’t be sure if he’d really shoot me or not. I quickly figured if this guy was out to kill someone, he’d have shot me already and taken what he wanted off my corpse. I had a gun of my own, but I didn’t think I could draw it from beneath the flannel shirt that was hiding it before he could pull his trigger. I needed time or a diversion, or both.
“The keys are in the car,” I lied. “I had to go pretty bad, and I didn’t see anyone around outside so I just left them in the ignition and came in here.” I didn’t know if he’d believe that or not. The man hestitated for a second, as if to think it over.
“Toss me your wallet,” he said. He must have believed what I told him about the keys. That was good.
“The wallet is in the glove compartment. It hurts my ass to sit on it.” I quickly added, “I travel a lot and I always put it there.” He paused again. I said, “Go look if you don’t believe me. I’m not going anywhere.” I guess he figured he had the upper hand after all and quickly ran out the door.
I drew my gun, gave the man two more seconds to put some distance between him and me, then went back outside. I cleared the door and pointed my gun at the man. He was just about to reach for the car door’s handle when I settled my pistol’s night sights on his chest.
“FREEZE!” I yelled. “Don’t move or I’ll blow your head off!”
The man, startled by my voice, quickly looked back at me then reached again for the door handle. In a second, he realized the door was locked, then turned back toward me, raising his gun as he turned.
“Drop it!” I yelled again, but the man had no intention of backing down. He felt trapped now and he was desperate. I wasn’t sure how well he could see me in the dim light, so I dropped to a crouch. At the same instant, the sound of a pistol shot cracked through the night. I barely heard the bullet slam into the door behind me. In a reflex action, I centered the man’s chest in my sights and pulled the trigger.
The man lurched backwards and pulled the trigger on his gun, sending another bullet whizzing above my head and into the door behind me. The next thing I heard was his gun hitting the cement as he slumped to his knees and fell backward.
I walked over to the man. Blood was running freely from the hole in the center of his chest. He was dead. I called the police and told them what happened. They said an officer would be there in 5 or 10 minutes. I decided that was enough time to go back inside and finish my business.