Shadow of the Gun: Dante's Descent

By Elliot Graves

Dante Bransons life is a perilous tightrope walk between the light that shines on a world of virtue and promise and the darkness that constantly calls out to his reckless and unruly nature. His journey is beset on all sides by an assortment of individuals hoping to sway him in one direction or the other. But when the unthinkable happens it will be left up to Dante alone to decide on which side of the line his destiny truly lies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 13, 2007
• ISBN: 9781467818933

Elliot Graves

Right. Its that time again. Where we both sit here and do our best to come up with the appropriate words to both describe and give a somewhat reasonable explanation for the existence of the craftsman behind this piece. In the end it hardly seems worth it. I mean, the man does all but absolutely defy description. But if I were ever forced to make an attempt at defying him in name my best foot forward would start out with something along the lines of a veritable silent shadow nestled amidst the thunderously bleak, sociopathic air surrounding him. If the world were a canvas his color would be the ignored mix on the palette mocking the work of the artist. The sort of mentality that could spend a lifetime laboring to construct a wall with a single window space cut into it only to use the next fifteen minutes after the last brick was laid to black out the glass with a brush coated in tar. Hes a menace for the simple fact that he could never think of a good enough excuse to be one. His freedoms based on movement, but the only time he can dream is when hes standing still. Graves. A poor mans false hope. Enthusiastic in his apathy and content with his sullenness. And hes writing. Thank you. www.myspace.com/plotholes

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Contents

Shadow of the Gun

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

About the Author

Mr. Vahn sighed. Come on, kid. It’s been a long day. I’ve got to get up in the morning, and, among other things, figure out how I’m gonna kill you. You seem to know everything about everything so why not just quit playing around. What do you want?

Dante tapped the barrel of the gun against the side of his leg. There was a couch behind him. Mr. Vahn’s nonchalant demeanor made him feel like he could contain his own emotions better if he took a seat. Dante took a few steps back and sat down. A grocery store, he said. Not too long ago. Ringing any bells?

Mr. Vahn cracked another smile. You’re shittin’ me, right? This is about the old guy? He clapped his hands together once and gave a short laugh. This is unbelievable.

Did I say something funny? Dante clutched the gun he held harder.

You don’t know just how, he said with a grin. Wait’ll I tell Pratt. So what is this, you out for revenge or something? What was he, like your granddad? Mr. Vahn’s reaction to his question was making him uncomfortable. For a second, Dante thought that maybe he was a little more out of his league with these people than he‘d previously imagined, but he didn’t let his face show it.

You’re right though. Pratt and I shot that son of a bitch open like a fucking piñata. He spoke the words through laughter and cheer. You want to make a citizen’s arrest? Vahn held out his arms to Dante with both of his wrists pressed together. He dropped his hands down to his sides and suddenly became very serious. You see, that’s what happens when you don’t play ball with Mr. Douglas. I mean, he offered the old bastard plenty of cash to use the store, but for some reason he just said no. Mr. Douglas took it personally. Vahn smiled at him.

So did I. Dante twisted his wrist over on the couch beside him and the gun he held went off.

To rid ourselves of our shadows - who we are - we must step into either total light or total darkness

-Jeremy Preston Johnson

Can you show me some evidence? Scars or something? I don’t know. Do you have any scars?

-Brad Whitford as Charles Phalen in Young Guns II

Graves!

GRAVES!!!

   Sorry for the interruption, but I was informed that the author of this magnificently offensive piece of literary injustice would be using this particular temporal gap to offer up something in the way of the musing that helped bring this farce into being. Apparently the concept of punctuality is as lost on him as that of common decency.

   In either case…perhaps there may be something that I could…

   Oh.

   I was wondering when you’d show up. They’re all yours.

What the hell are you pissing and moaning about? Trust me. Despite how mentally deficient an individual would have to be to even entertain the idea of taking time out to read this concoction, I’m pretty sure that by now they’ve either moved on or abandoned these pages to the bottom of a bird cage.

Could you just get on with it? Please?

Whatever. Just get your ass to the back of the book and outro this thing.

Shadow of the Gun

   Shadow of the Gun

   What is ‘Shadow of the Gun’ and why does the world need a written account of the subject matter? In answer to the latter portion of that query, it doesn’t. The idea for the story arc came about some sixteen years ago courtesy of entirely too much time spent sitting in front of the television watching the major motion picture that this series pays homage to. It should be easy enough to figure out which particular piece that is by now.

Originally a fleeting pipedream composed of short successions of random action sequences to help speed up the second hand of every time piece in existence, over the years Shadow of the Gun managed to morph itself into a seven part series chronicling the exploits of Dante Branson and his faction. Although the basic theme of the storyline has remained the same since its conception, it was interesting watching my interpretation of the main characters continue to shift.

   Dante’s development was especially amusing, considering he‘d gotten his start as an atypical wild child bouncing from one calamitous event to the next and wound up as both protagonist and antagonist in the vendetta to reconnect with his origins and set right the circumstances that paved the path before him. Dante was candy and for some reason he found it necessary to up and change on me. All things considered, I suppose I’ve forgiven him worse transgressions.

   He wasn’t alone by any means. Hardly ever being found without the likes of that rabble of louts he found fit to keep company with, it didn’t take much coaxing for Dante to drag the rest of his crew with him on his road to reinvention.

   Once just a mere gathering of extras lumped into the backdrop behind Dante’s shoulders simply to convey the camaraderie that they stood for, Cory, Kendrick, Omar, and Cameron sprouted a collection of personality traits that forced Dante’s out of the forefront and embedded it into the collage that the quintuplet of egos created.

   As understandably upset as anyone would be, watching the pristine order of a once perfect world fall to chaos, I was eventually forced to come to the realization that perhaps they weren’t the ones who were changing. Maybe I just never really took the time to get to know these guys. I’ll admit, in the beginning it was their vibrant flamboyancies that attracted me and held me captivated, but in time I was able to watch the vulnerability of each and every one of them completely surpass the supremacy and clout of the ordnance they brandished. I’d ask for absolution but screw it. I was what I was back then and nobody asked them to be that mesmeric.

   For the longest time Sommerset, New Mexico (newly rechristened ’The City of the Gun’ by the gentle, kindhearted townsfolk who’ve taken up residence there) was my very own home away from home. True, in recent times, I have learned to appreciate the allure of several other locales and townships, but the shadow coated corridors and shell casing covered streets of Sommerset will always hold a special place in what has come to be known as my coal black proverbial tick tocker. Perhaps I’ll find my way back there someday even after I’m done communing with Dante and his sorts. I’m pretty sure that they’d love to have me back. But just in case any members of the citizenry find my presence a little too off-putting, I’ll be sure to not be found without a six-gun in arm’s reach.

   Feel free to test me if you think I’m bullshittin’ you.

I’ll make you famous.

ETG

Force and mind are opposites; morality ends where a gun begins.

-Ayn Rand

1

She pulled the car up to the curb and put the emergency brake on. I thought you said nothing was gonna happen? Kortney said as she blinked her eyes at the darkness of the night in front of her. She didn’t even give him the satisfaction of looking his way when she spoke.

I didn’t think anything would, Dante said. He studied her profile using what little light the streetlamps outside provided. He could just make out the lines in the features of her face. She was still upset. He didn’t think it was anything she wouldn’t be able to get over on the ride back to his house. He was wrong.

Do you want to explain?

What do you want me to say? Cory’s usually way calmer than that.

No shit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that mad.

I have. Just not for anything that stupid. Dante listened to Kortney moving around in the darkness and turned to see her reaching down under her seat. She came up with her purse, and after fumbling around in it for half a second she pulled out the black 9mm semi-automatic handgun by the barrel and handed it to him.

Here, she breathed out in an exhausted tone.

He took the gun from her and tucked it inside his jacket. Thanks, he said to her. The monotone style of their conversation made it almost seem rehearsed.

Get out of my car, Dante.

No kiss? He remained in his seat making no gesture to signal that he was about to exit the vehicle.

No. Kortney turned to him with a smirk. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Dante just looked at her for a moment until she faced front again. He opened the passenger door and got out onto the sidewalk. Kortney pulled off down the street and he kept watch until her taillights took a left two corners down. She’d cool off by the time she got home, he reassured himself. Still, he couldn’t blame her for her reaction. They hadn’t had a night out together in a while and when he finally found the time it had to be at a venue that would be attended by the rest of his little inner circle of friends. After assuring her for the thousandth time that everything would be fine, she finally gave up on trying to persuade him to take her somewhere else. It didn’t seem like he was having much luck recently where she was concerned.

Despite what she must have been thinking right now, Dante had really wanted this night to work out. The two of them had been going out for two years, or by Kortney’s reasoning six months. If you started counting from their last fight. He’d been trying to make the best of impressions whenever he would get the chance and would get just as upset as her when the forces that he felt were beyond his control interfered with his intentions. Kortney would always have him question exactly how much beyond his control these situations were.

Dante looked up at the sky. It seemed unusually bright out for two thirty in the morning. He began his walk down the narrow concrete path behind him that lead up to the front porch of his house. As he walked he noticed that there was a light on in the front room. That could only mean one thing. His mother was awake. After years of enjoying times like these to have the run of the house, moments like these weren’t as appealing as they should have been. When he reached the front door he opened it and walked inside the house.

What are you doing up? Dante said, seeing his mother sitting on the couch in her robe drinking a glass of water.

Her brown eyes looked up over the glass she had tilted to her lips. She lowered the glass and Dante could see the full expression of her cocoa skinned face as she stared back at him. I could ask you the same, she said.

I was with Kenny and Cory over at Erick’s. It wasn’t a total lie, but it wasn’t exactly the whole truth either. The night did start out at Erick’s house. Where it had eventually progressed to, he felt was better left unsaid.

They bring you home? She started to get that tone in her voice.

No. Kortney did. He continued his walk past the couch she was sitting on and headed into the kitchen. Once he got there he sifted through the pile of mail he found on the kitchen table. It was the usual stockpile of bills. Cynthia Branson’s name was on all of them. Don’t you have to go to work in the morning? he said over his shoulder.

Yes. His mother got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen behind him. The sound of her glass hitting the bottom of the sink made Dante put the mail back down on the table. He could feel her eyes on the back of his head. You’re welcome to get a job and help out with some of those, Cynthia said. One you’ll hold down for more than a week at a time.

She walked past him and turned out the kitchen light on her way to her room. Watching her leave the kitchen, he waited there in the dark until he heard her bedroom door close shut. The television was still on in the living room, blaring out something about some war someplace else. He went in and turned it off. The lights in the living room were next to go. Dante walked past his mother’s bedroom on the way to his where he changed his clothes into his nighttime wear and crawled beneath the covers on his bed.

He didn’t fall asleep right away as he thought he would. His mind wondered instead of fading to black. He lingered over thoughts of Kortney and the events of the night that had just transpired. She was home safe now. He knew that. A phone call placed to her home moments ago confirmed that fact. At this time of night Kortney was usually mindful enough to make sure that the phone in her bedroom was the only one in the home with an active ringer when she was expecting a call from him.

He hated it whenever she was placed in a potentially hazardous situation simply for being in the vicinity of him. Dante knew he wasn’t right in blaming himself for what happened, but to do such a thing had slowly grown into a habit. Alternate scenarios regarding what could have happened and other what ifs plagued his brain. Old memories and future predictions of their life together kept his head slowly tossing from side to side. Then there were thoughts of his mother. The peril she’d had to endure because of him over the years had mainly been psychological. Dante constantly kept her busy with worry. He had lead a very colorful childhood. Colors that hadn’t quite faded in his mother’s mind, nor in his life as a young adult.

Dante awoke around noon. He emerged from his quiet little sanctuary to find the house empty and cold. His feet moved along the carpet floor until he bumped his shin on the rickety coffee table. The minor sting had to take a backseat to what he saw when he widened his still groggy eyes. A list of chores on the table. Things to do for someone perceived to have nothing better to do. His mother was so thoughtful. He picked it up and read: dishes, vacuuming, laundry, sweeping. It quickly found itself crumpled up and in the trashcan. Contrary to popular belief, he already had plans for the day.

He showered; he shaved; his outfit was donned. After a quick breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs and pop tarts, he headed out into the world. Sommerset, New Mexico. His world. At least the one afforded to him at this particular time.

Putting the key in his Chevy Celebrity brought back a painful memory. As the engine turned over he remembered the right front tire was flat. The spare was nonexistent. That was the reason he was forced to catch a ride with Kortney for the duration of the previous night. Dante slammed the door behind him when he got out.

On foot he was able to admire the prestigious view of the neighborhood that surrounded him. Given, it wasn’t exactly skid row, it was a damn sight away from middle class. Dilapidated apartment buildings, broken down duplexes, and a park slash playground that didn’t always cater to the best people society had to offer. Present company included. The highlights, mind you.

Tired of walking, mentally not physically, Dante spotted a not so closely monitored bicycle leaning against a nearby swing set. He helped himself. The road to Erick’s house would be much swifter now.

Erick was a twenty five year old construction worker who made a pretty reasonable living despite the accommodations of his household. All the furniture was second hand and most of the appliances were obsolete by over a decade. The VHS cassette recorder on top of the television was the most up-to-date piece of equipment in the living room. Nobody could figure out if he was just lazy or cheap as hell.

His wife Tiera didn’t seem to have a problem spending money. It was a common source of most of their arguments. Twenty one years old, she was a waitress at Tony’s Bar and Grill. Tiera accepted his proposal not too long out of high school and about two years ago they added their first addition to the Johnson family unit. A baby boy named Jamal.

Domino, motherfucker! Dante heard the boom of Kendrick’s voice as Tiera let him in the front door.

Wake that baby up and I’m a kick yo ass, Kenny! Tiera yelled back at him as Dante stood in front of her.

My bad, Kendrick muttered under his breath.

Hey, Dante, Tiera greeted him. She was wearing her work clothes. Given her attitude, Dante guessed that she had recently clocked out. When he came in he could see that the small crowd present wasn’t helping to ease her tension.

The gang was all here.

Kendrick, Omar, and Cameron were playing dominos on a foldout table in the back area of the living room next to the opening to the kitchen. Kendrick, the tallest of Dante’s little group, jutted his chin out in his direction in acknowledgement of Dante’s entrance. His resume included loitering, destruction of property, and petty larceny. Omar, with his dark complexion and braided hair, had a record consisting of possession of a controlled substance, DUI, and vandalism. Cameron: vandalism; disturbing the peace.

Dante walked over to the couch and sat next to Cory. His contribution to society included joyriding and petty theft, among other things. Dante wasn’t at all the prize out of this motley crew. The four of them were nineteen years old with Omar bringing up the rear at eighteen. All juvenile delinquents looking to be post teen losers.

Use the power-up combo, Dante suggested, taking a seat next to his friend who seemed a little too focused on the video game he was playing.

What happened to you last night? Cory asked him. I looked up and you were gone.

Wanted to get out of there before the cops showed up. Thanks a lot, by the way.

Cory just laughed, making the cigarette in his mouth bob up and down until the ashes dropped off the end and landed on his baggy blue jean pants. He knew Dante was referring to the altercation he had last night in the parking lot outside of the University of Sommerset’s football stadium that involved several gentlemen that Cory managed to find very off-putting. Being the hothead that he was it didn’t take long for him to act on his disgruntlement and force the situation to escalate to a most unwarranted conclusion.

Fuck them niggaz, Cory said when his laughter toned down a bit. Heard Omar’s party supposed to be off the hook. The last one wasn’t shit.

You didn’t even show up! Omar yelled from his seat at the table.

Cory laughed again.

Tiera came back in the room from checking on Jamal. She now sported a gray sweat suit. As she sat down in the loveseat Dante found it hard to believe that this was the same girl that used to persuade Erick to buy alcohol for them. To see her navigating through the life of a mother slash wife slash working woman was enough to make his head shake. She noticed him staring before he could look away.

What? she said to him.

He couldn’t think of a lie fast enough. "Nothing.