The Headshrinker's Dilemma

Chapter Five

Dale knew he had very little time to prepare before the thugs with their guns arrived at the room. He watched them on the camera feed as they sprinted through the aisles, pushing pass themselves and running into shelves and end caps all wild and wayward to get to the back as fast as they could. The group of college students and his new girlfriend, the cashier girl, were trying to figure out what to do next. Dale watched them earnestly, wondering if one of them was going to call the police. But they all seemed like a helpless gaggle of underlings from Dale’s perspective, no one really seemed to know what to do. That was cool with Dale. Calling the cops was the last thing that he wanted any of them to do. But just as he thought that, one of them, the girl that had come over to talk to him finally, reached in her pocket and pulled out her phone, Dale’s heart lurched. s**t. There was still a dead body hidden in the store, the shrunken head of the man that the dead body belonged to was still in his pocket and, and only God knew what was about to happen with the other two thugs.

Dale swallowed hard and just accepted his fate. Is that what heroes did? Sacrificed themselves for the good of others. He had made that decision, to be the hero of his story and not the villain, and there was no turning back from it now.

“Let her call them,” he said out loud to himself.

There was more pressing matters and hand. Like two armed thugs moments away from barreling through the door. Dale looked around himself. It was a small room, really no place to hide but then again, he was done with hiding. What he needed was an advantage. He quickly assessed the situation: one, he was already at an advantage, the thugs were coming into him, they didn’t know what to expect; next, he really only needed to get his hands on their faces. If he did that then they were as good as goners. The element of surprise would work best there. That would him getting out of sight. Behind the door. That had to be the answer. Or maybe behind the sofa. No. There was too much of an opening coming in. Behind the door would have to do. Dale would just have to have the best reaction time of his life, which he wasn’t too sure was possible but what else did he have to lose accept his life. Dale got in position.

Behind the door, Dale thought about all the things that had led him up to this point in life. Strangely, as these moments passed through his mind, like his life before his eyes, he didn’t feel any regret. He felt at peace in a weird way, like this was where he was supposed to be, had always been the segment if not the ending of some part of his life. Dale didn’t know how he had gotten his powers but now he was ambiguous about them. When the night had started and up to a few minutes ago he had viewed his ability to shrink heads as a curse, some cosmic joke orchestrated by some prick of a bully that got his rocks off by watching people like Dale squirm instead of just stepping on them and squashing them like worms. But now, he wondered if this was a joke or an incident of bullying at all. Maybe there was purpose in it. After all, he had taken down one thug tonight who could have seriously hurt someone. The thought of actually being a hero felt freeing to Dale and the more he considered it, the more he liked the idea.

But then there was Felicia. The sinking feeling came back. However, didn’t all super heroes go through a similar period? One of struggle trying to realize the responsibility of their powers, to fully gain control of them? It happened with Peter Parker, several versions of Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, definitely Barry Allen – so why not him? It was part of the scar that all heroes must have; it humanized them, kept them humble. Dale felt good about himself, better than he ever had. He felt strong and brave and he was ready to – the door swung open violently, hitting Dale hard. He staggered from out behind the door unknowingly and before he could really open his eyes, the thugs were on him, wailing hit after hit with their fists and with the butt of a gun. Dale felt blood run down his forehead and cheek, a searing pain in his left eye and just before when thought he was about to black out he feet the force of a foot ram into his midsection bringing him back to cruel consciousness.

Dale lied there and took the beating. There was nothing he could do. The helpless hero. No hero at all. Just a victim, like he had always been. He wished he could hide now, away from the pain and definitely away from those ridiculous thoughts that he had been having about himself. Dale was ashamed of every single one of them. He couldn’t believe that he had ever thought that he was more than the fickle Dale Cabbard. He wanted to leave, to go unconscious and he prayed for that one blow that would put him out of his misery: knocked out or death, Dale didn’t really care. He just wanted out. He just wanted to be gone.

***

At some point, Dale got what he wanted, although he hadn’t known that he had until he woke, his face heavy and sticky. He could feel the swelling and bruising on his face, the stained and dried up blood. He tried to take a deep breath but that was hard to do, it was like he wasn’t getting enough air, like he had a small leak somewhere, probably a punctured lung. Dale was on the floor, face down, hands behind his back, tied, feet too. He could see that there were others around too, also tied but not the same way as him. The girl from class was there. Only her wrists were bound though. One of the guys was there too. He had a couple of bangs and bruises but there was no way that he looked as bad as Dale knew he did. Was he the only one to get stomped on like he did? Served him right, Dale thought, for actually thinking that he was anything more than what he had always been in life; an awkward introvert that pretended to live on the fringes of society. It was the best identity he could up with for himself.

“Hey…” the girl whispered from a few feet away.

Dale tried to respond but moving his mouth to form words was too hard, way too much of an ordeal. He mumbled something to let her know he was listening.

“They took your girlfriend and Jeff,” she said.

Something in Dale surged. The cashier. His new girlfriend. They had her. Dale wished he could have saved her, them all. Remorse. Sorrow. That’s what he felt. i***t. All of this was his fault. All because he had killed that one thug and tried to hide it. None of them would be in this mess if it wasn’t for him. And no one knew that except Dale.

“I think they are robbing the place but they are also still looking for their friend, the other one that went missing. Was he here? In the store? Did you see him? Maybe we can exchange information to get outta of here –”

“Oh, God! Shut up, Nancy! s**t,” the other guy said between busted lips. “We’re all gonna die – die Nancy… There’s no way out of this.”

Dale knew that he was probably right. They all had seen the thugs’ faces. There really wasn’t any other recourse of action for them to take now. There was no way that they could leave witnesses. So yeah, they were going to die. The thought didn’t bother Dale. It was better than living with all that he had done and become and the things that he couldn’t undo.

“Don’t say that!” the girl lashed back at the other guy. “There has to be a way out of here – to get out of this – I don’t wanna die.”

“Hell, who wants to die?! The s**t just happens,” retorted the boy.

And then the gun shot happened. It was loud. And the sound let off a distinct reverberation that was felt inside on an organic, intestinal kind of level. The energy in the room changed. Panic. And then it began to spread. First the girl, then the other guy. Dale just closed his eyes tightly and breathed slowly. His face hurt badly.

“Oh my God! They – They just shot someone – Oh my God! Oh my God!” the girl chanted.

Dale remained silent. So, did the other guy. Maybe he had accepted his fate as well, thought Dale. And then he heard footsteps sprinting up old creaky stairs. Someone was coming. Dale braced himself, anticipating the end. The door swung open. Dale kept his eyes closed.

“No – No – No! Take – No! Take her – him but not – not –!” the other guy cried.

But his whimpering and sputtering and yellow-bellowing came to an end with a thud. Dale had heard that kind of hit before. The butt of a gun to the head. He still had a slight headache himself from his whammy earlier. The other guy’s body caved to the ground. Dale couldn’t help himself. He opened his eyes and watched as the thug drug the other guy’s body across the floor and pass him. The door closed.

“D – Dale?” the girl started.

“Yeah…?” he managed to get out, it was the least he could do, give her another voice to hear, a person to talk to in their final hours alive.

“Do something please,” she said.

Dale thought hard about those words. He wanted to respond appropriately.

“I already have.”