The Inception Trilogy by Easton Livingston (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📕

He peered underneath his hanging wardrobe into the bedroom, listening for any signs of movement.

Silence.

He raised to a standing position, making a blind grab above and pulled down the green safety box. Sweat rolled down his face into his eye, the stinging sensation alerting him to the sober reality he wasn't dreaming. His hand slipped into his pants pocket, clasping around his keys.

Dana's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and it didn't help he didn't have his glasses. Despite that, it wasn't hard to find the right key since it was the smallest one on his key chain.

With his right thumb, he felt around for the keyhole on the front of the box, pausing a moment to look and listen. Nothing.

He had finished inserting the key when he stopped. Hesitation tapped on his nerves. Could he go through with this? Could he shoot and kill a human being? This was not swatting a fly or stepping on a spider. He was contemplating eliminating a person from earth. The movies made it look so easy. So matter-of-fact. This wasn't the movies, and he wasn't an action hero. This was real life. Real circumstances. Real consequences.

When he had first bought the gun, he never expected to use it. He lived in a nice neighborhood where crime was low to non-existent. It was automatic for anyone you didn't see every day threw up a red flag for all the neighbors. He told his wife it was for safety, just in case, but never expected to use it. He liked guns. Plus, it gave him something to show to others.

Faced with his current dilemma, he had to come to grips with the reality he would have to use it and wasn't sure he could do it. He thought of Debbie. The kids. Ten years of marriage. His business. If Dana didn't stop this intruder, he would bring more pain and destroy everything he had. Everything he had worked for and couldn't allow that. He couldn't live with that.

His ears picked up what sounded like feet shuffling across his bedroom. His grip tightened around the key but he didn't turn it. Fear and doubt were reining him in from opening the box for he knew once he did, there was no turning back. What would be done, would be done. He peeped into the room. Nothing.

He felt the lock give as he turned the key. With clammy fingertips, he lifted the lid of the box. The gun's power radiated through the darkness though he couldn't see it. It pulled at him, beckoning him to hold it. Embrace it. Befriend it.

Reaching down inside, his right hand grabbed the gun by its stock. The weight seemed to intensify its presence as he raised it up close to his face. Its steel was as cold as its purpose. Moments passed as he absorbed its authority. His confidence grew tenfold. He was in charge now. He would take care of the problem.

Standing on his feet, he was no longer wary of being heard by the intruder. The gun's weight tugged at his right arm as he stood in the closet doorway.

Hesitance.

Memories.

Turning toward the bedroom door, he readied himself for the confrontation. He gathered his nerves together into a schism of unabashed strength. His resolve was implacable. He'd do what had to be done.

With steady, even strides, he made his way towards the bathroom. He didn't know if the intruder was in there, but he had to be thorough. Search every room. Every corner. Now he was the hunter.

Memories.

Reaching inside the bathroom door, he flicked on the light. The sudden brilliance startled his eyes. He stood in the doorway squinting for a few moments to let his eyes adjust. Scanning the area, his head rotated from side to side like a searchlight atop a prison tower. The immediate area of the bathroom revealed nothing. Walking further inside, he raised the gun, creeping towards the bathtub. He peered inch by inch around the corner to see if the intruder was waiting to ambush him. Yanking the curtain to one side, he raised the gun ready to fire.

Empty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed movement behind him. He froze then let out a heavy sigh.

“I knew you were close by. You're not going to hurt my family anymore. I’m ending this. Now.”

Taking a deep breath, he turned around.

There the intruder stood, staring at him with identical resolve in his eyes. Somehow, they sensed that the other knew the confrontation was inevitable. For long moments, they stared at one another, their potent, baleful gazes screaming across the space that separated them.

The memories hit him so hard at that instant, it felt as if he'd put his finger in a wall socket. The flood of emotions was overpowering. He could not bear to look at the intruder any longer. A deliberate, steady hand raised the gun, pointed, and fired.

Part II - Suspect Apprehended

Detective Samuel Neff stood at the doorway of the Johansen residence just getting the cobwebs out of his mind. The call came in on his cell phone at 2:03 a.m. It took thirty-four minutes to get dressed and get to the scene. Uniformed officers were already there, the darkness around the home lit up by silent police sirens and side lamps.

He had fifteen years on the force with a little less than half of that in homicide. Neff got a sense of the situation as soon as he walked into a place where a loss of life had occurred. There was always a sense of some amorphous appendage cloying at him. It was the part of his job he hated because he knew it was the vestiges of pain and misery. Hated it because of how well he knew it and how well it knew him.

With a pensive look up the stairs, he listened to the activity that was going on. Breathing out a heavy sigh he rolled his eyes. He wasn't