The Strange Death of David Parmenter 1 The Event
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The Strange Death Of David Parmenter - 2. No Going Back free porn video
Author's note: This is an original work of transgender fiction. Any
similarity between any person, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
I. The Strange Death of David Parmenter
by Erin Shoemaker, Jr.
2. No Going Back
David went home that afternoon with decidedly mixed emotions. One the
one hand, he had done his civic duty and had assisted in putting a bad
guy away. Additionally, he had done organized crime a blow at the same
time. But now, according to the cops anyway, his life was in serious
danger. Part of him remained defiant and felt like he could handle the
situation himself; he's not gonna let anybody push him around. But the
words of the police Captain kept ringing in his head, "These guys are
professionals..." And then he would get nervous, and more than a little
paranoid. He knew these were the thoughts that would plague him for the
foreseeable future.
And so, after arriving back at his flat, he sat - and stewed - and
worried - about his predicament. Back and forth in his head - over and
over again - for hours... But as the sun began to set far off on the
other side of the peninsula, he suddenly realized that he was in plain
view of the rest of the world through the big windows of his apartment.
Worse, by turning on the room lights he realized that he was essentially
a back-lit target. Quickly he jumped to his feet, rushed to the side of
the window, and drew the heavy blinds, shielding him from prying eyes;
potentially looking at him through the sites of a rifle. "Oh god," he
thought, "is this how it's gonna be now?"
It took him almost a week to get up the courage to go out. His first
time out he jumped quickly into a waiting cap to be taken to the same
market he had been walking to the day of the shooting. Wearing heavily
concealing clothes, he quickly did his shopping, and rushed out to the
still waiting cab even before getting his change. He felt stupid paying
a cab to take him only a few blocks.
For another week he continued with his self-imposed exile from humanity;
he stayed at home, and occasionally peeked out of the drapes. But as
time progressed he not only began to go crazy, but his resolution to
stand-up to these people seemed to grow. He began to resent them
putting him into this position in the first place; and soon his
resentment started to morph into a stronger and stronger desire to
continue to thwart their plans - to hurt them.
But time is the sole mediator of past and future. Finally, about three
weeks after the sentencing hearing, as he sat watching the news for the
ump-teenth time, he cracked. He jumped to his feet and yelled at
himself, "I can't live like this... fuck it," and he threw open the
curtains and was instantly flooded by the bright burning sun coming up
over the mountains which border the east bay. He felt liberated, for
the moment at least. And so he became determined to try to live his
life without fear. As a result of his conscious efforts, as time
progressed, he gradually began to obsess less and less over his dilemma.
Being so high up in the company freed him from the usual obligations to
call in daily. He told them that after his ordeal, he wanted some time
off, and would probably be out for a month. No arguments from Nitrotech
- they really didn't want him hanging around anyway - it reminded them
of the "old way things were done around here..." David actually felt like
he was being set-up for a fall at work anyway.
David began to journey back into the realm of the living soon
thereafter. First it was just a walk to the market and back again, but
then he started attending some lectures at Berkeley, and even a Giants
game. Slowly, without him even realizing it, he had settled back into
his comfortable life, thinking only occasionally about his personal
danger. "Besides," he thought, "if they were gonna kill me, they would
have already tried." But rationalization is an inherent feature of
humans; we don't want to, actually really can't, continue to maintain
high levels of stress forever. The creative ideas he came-up with to
convince himself he was safe were truly unique and genuine.
David eventually began contemplating going back to work. He felt like
he was just wasting his time; unproductive, lackadaisical, bored. So he
called the office the week before to announce his return the following
Monday. Although his assistant seemed pleased to hear he was coming
back, his "new" CEO seemed less than enthusiastic. Not expecting this
reaction, he was very disappointed. Apparently what had once been his
company could get along just fine without him now; there were not "thank
goodness," or "that will be great," forthcoming upon his announcement.
This forced him to remember the previous unhappiness he had experienced
with his "new position" in Nitrotech. No, he really felt very little
company loyalty now.
Ahhh, but for "the best laid plans of mice and men..."
The Friday before his return to work, in spite of the reticence about
his return, David felt like celebrating a bit. And so he called an old
friend, Veronica, to see if she would join him for dinner. He had not
talked to her in quite a while, in spite of them having known one
another from way back when she worked for his founding company. As luck
would have it, she was available, and agreed to meet him at Alfred's
Steakhouse, just around the corner from his place.
The afternoon was spent like a girl preparing for the prom. He pulled
out suit after suit, matched and mis-matched pants, shirts and jackets,
and generally felt happy; like he was finally over all the recent
unpleasantness. By the time he decided what to wear, showered, shaved
and got dressed, it was time to go.
It was a quick walk in the waning sunlight. Up California to Kearney
and then up to Merchant. Rounding the last corner, he spotted Veronica
just jumping out of a cab. He called and waived to her. Looking up she
smiled and waved in response. As he approached her, he was a bit
shocked at just how pretty she looked. Quickly his mind rushed back to
the days when they worked together, and how only once, did they ever
really discuss a relationship outside of work. But both had agreed that
workplace romances rarely work out, and cooler heads prevailed. And so
they continued on as good friends. But here she was; dressed to the
hilt, and quite stunning.
He hurried up Merchant and greeted her with a hung and quick kiss on the
cheek. "You look lovely," he said stepping back and motioning at her
dress. "My goodness, I was just trying to think how long it's been
since we've actually seen each other in person."
"Thank you," she replied, looking down as if embarrassed by the
complement. "You know, I can't really remember either. Was it when we
were in the bidding war with you over the City contract?"
"Maybe...," he answered laughing, "maybe. But let's go in; I'm starving."
As the cab drove away, she took his arm and they turned to enter the
rather non-descript building.
But then they both froze at the sounds of a screeching car coming around
the corner at Kearny. As if hypnotized, they both stared as the car
raced eastward down the narrow street. As it did, the rear passenger
window slid down, and out poked a gun barrel. They had no time to
react, and within seconds the car was upon them and the gun spoke. In
an instant, the surrounding area where the two stood in disbelief
erupted into a shower of flying glass, plaster and masonry.
Instinctively, they both ducked down, but it was to no avail. A spray
of bullets ripped into them, and they collapsed onto the sidewalk. Just
before he blacked out, he could hear a voice screaming from the
departing car, "J?t do pekla, Parmenter!"
And all was black.
* * * * * *
The black world was now gray - and it hurt. David could see only
blurred shapes as he tried to open his eyes, and his left side was
throbbing with pain. As it fully hit him, he moaned while moving his
head back and forth as if to make the world clear again. Then he heard
a little beeping alarm coming from somewhere behind him, and within
seconds he could detect the shadowy figure of a person moving around on
his right side. As it did, the beeping stopped, and he felt the figure
touch his shoulder.
"Mr. Parmenter?" came the woman's voice. "Mr. Parmenter? Are you
awake?" David only continued to groan.
"Mr. Parmenter - everything in OK. You are safe and in the hospital.
You have been shot, but the bullet has been removed. You will be
alright. But right now, you need to rest. I've pinned the call button
here on your pillow - press it if you need anything. Are you in pain?"
David, as much as he could, reacted instantly to her question by
widening his eyes and grunting an "uh huh".
"OK," she said, "I'll be right back with some medication to help with
that. Rest up." And after patting him on the shoulder, the unknown
shape moved off into the haze that was still his vision.
David lay back and tried to contemplate exactly what had happened. As
he tried to move in the bed, suddenly the pain in his side came shooting
back like a freight train. "Aghh," he cried as he gave up his efforts.
He closed his eyes and thought - yes it was coming back to him - the
speeding car, the shooting, Veronica - What of her? Where was Veronica?
He turned his head to the side and wept quietly as he realized that she
had been injured as a result of him. "Oh god, what have I done?" he
asked himself.
But soon his anguish was interrupted. His vision, although still fuzzy,
was getting better. He could now see the blurry outline of the door to
his room open widely as what must surely be a nurse entered and
approached. As she got closer her image came more into focus. "I
brought you something for the pain," she said with a smile, and was soon
administering the potion into the tube of the catheter hanging above his
arm. Within seconds, he could feel the pain in his side drift away as
he gave a huge sigh of relief. "There ya go," she said, "don't forget
to ring if you need anything. The doctor will be in soon to talk to
you." As quickly as she had appeared, she was gone out the door.
David lay for what seemed like hours. Over and over again in his head,
he replayed the images of what had happened. Over and over again he
cried at the pain he had inflicted to his friend. But eventually the
big door swung open again, and in walked two men. One was obviously the
doctor - lab coat, stethoscope around his neck. But the other man was
dressed in a sport coat and tie. He had seen him before - yes - it was
the police Captain, Kyle Bradford, who had warned him about the contract
out on his life.
"How are we feeling today," asked the doctor as he approached.
"Like shit," answered David, to which the two men laughed lightly.
"Glad to see you still have a sense of humor," said the doctor as he sat
on the edge of the bed. Bradford stood behind him.
"So Doc?" asked David, "just how bad is it?"
"Oh, you'll live," he said while reaching forward to feel the pulse in
his neck. "You were extremely lucky. You only got hit by a single
bullet. But I'm sorry to have to tell you that your date, Miss Veronica
Leonard, was not so lucky."
David almost sat up in distress, "What do you mean, not so lucky?"
"I'm afraid that she died of her wounds." He paused to let the bad news
sink in. David could only close his eyes in anguish as a tear found its
way past his eyelids. "She was hit several times, and died within
minutes." The doctor took his wrist and squeezed it lightly, "She did
not suffer..." he said. But this really didn't make David feel any
better.
"You were hit once in the side, and miraculously it missed the spleen
and pancreas. It went clean on through and out your back. Yes, you
were quite lucky." He paused again. "So, you should be up and around
in a day or so, and we'll let you go. Sound OK?" David could barely
answer that he understood.
"So, I be back to check on you in a few hours. Try to rest up; you've
lost quite a bit of blood." And he tapped his arm before standing. The
policeman followed him to the door, and there carried on a brief, and
quite hushed, conversation with the doctor before he left.
Bradford crossed back to David and leaning over him asked, "Hello Mr.
Parmenter. Do you remember me?"
"Yes," replied David suspiciously.
Bradford sat on the edge of the bed. "Good. Mr. Parmenter, first let
me say how sorry we are about your friend. She was an innocent victim
caught up in all this." David only nodded in agreement. "But we now
need to discuss both the attempt on your life, and then, how we can
protect you. Do you feel up to talking now?"
"No," said David flatly. "I'm still too groggy and hurt to talk about
it."
Bradford looked down on him in silence and a slight frown for a moment.
"I understand," he said, "but we do need to talk. We've found that the
earlier to discuss things the better, but that's OK. I'll swing by
later and we can take care of it. But for right now, do you have any
idea of who did this? Have you seen them before?"
"No," he said again.
"Well, OK," said the policeman. "For now, I have posted an officer
outside your door. Hopefully the word hasn't gotten out yet that you're
still alive; best if they think they succeeded. But we can talk later."
He stood and left without further comment.
David lay back in his agony.
* * * * * *
It was early the following day that Captain Bradford returned. David
was already up and around, and was anxious to get out of the hospital
and back home. But as Bradford entered, he turned and locked the door
before sitting in one of the small chairs. "Good morning," he said,
"how are you feeling?"
David felt distinctly uncomfortable with the cop's locking of the door,
but took the seat opposite him. "I guess I'm doing alright," he said.
And the two men sat in silence for a moment starting at each other.
"Mr. Parmenter," Bradford began, "let me again express my condolences
about your friend. But we need to talk now about your attack, and where
we go from here."
"OK," he replied.
"Good. So let's begin with the attack that put you here..." And for the
next thirty or forty minutes they discussed the attempted "hit". There
was actually very little that David could tell him. He could only
remember that the car was big, black and had four doors. He couldn't
even identify the make.
Then began the second focus of their discussions; David's future. "Mr.
Parmenter, by the way, may I call you David?" he asked. "Yes, of
course," David replied.
"OK, David, please call me Kyle. I think you know by now that you're
pretty lucky to be alive. I don't get it myself - all those bullets
flying around and the target only gets hit once? But I think you also
realize that this is only the first attempt to get at you. It's only
the beginning. You have a very high price on your head, even by mob
standards, and they absolutely will not stop until you are dead." He
waited for some response.
David, staring into the Captain's face, said with a snippy air, "Yeah, I
get it."
"Well what are you going to do?" asked Bradford.
In a rather sarcastic tone, David replied, "Well what the fuck am I
supposed to do?"
"Look, David..." said Kyle, "I'm only here to try to help you. Do you
remember the just of our conversation that day in the courthouse?"
"Yes," was his simple reply.
"Well the offer still stands. We can offer you a new life, totally free
from worry about being the target of a contract on your life. As I
mentioned, the LRP program is available to those select individuals, who
those in our profession want to thank by guaranteeing them a worry-free
life. Now, do you remember some of the details I spoke about?"
"Some," said David, "but refresh me."
"Well as I mentioned, the program manufactures your death, gives you a
new identity such that no one will ever know who you really are, and
sets you up with a good job and home. In short, we offer you a
completely new life, and the ability for you to leave all this business
behind, permanently."
"Yeah, but what about all that stuff regarding not ever contacting my
friends and family again?" David asked.
Kyle mulled it over for a second and then answered, "Unfortunately
that's true. That is the downside. But the upside is that you are
alive and worry-free. Also, I might point out that your family and
friends are free as well. You just saw how even standing next to you on
a sidewalk can be fatal to them. With your going away, there is no
reason for the mob to worry about them; it would only draw unwanted
attention to them."
David thought to himself for a moment and then realized that the
policeman was right. One of his best friends was gunned down on the
street, and it was his fault.
"But ponder this..." said Bradford, "you are given a golden opportunity
that few others ever get. As far as they know, you're already dead.
The only people that know you're alive are the few doctors and nurses
here at the hospital, and we can quickly get their support to say that
you passed away from you wounds. You will be remembered and honored as
a citizen who was not afraid to speak up. In essence, you will die a
hero's death."
He waited for David's response. "I just don't know..." he said.
"Well unfortunately, we need your answer right now. We cannot keep a
lid on your stay here much longer. If you walk out that door alive, as
I've said before, we will do what we can, but in all honesty we can't be
watching over you 24/7." He waited again. "So what do you say?"
But David just couldn't come to a decision. So Bradford started again,
"Remember your loved ones and how much danger they're now in. I know
it's not fair that you are in this position, but that's the cards you've
been dealt. It's not fair to take them down with you."
He was right, and David was convinced. "All right, suppose I say yes.
Can I at least go back home and get a few things?"
"Absolutely not," was his reply from Kyle. "You do not leave this
hospital alive. Even the smallest or seemingly insignificant personal
item, either missing or found, would blow the whole thing."
David was still ambivalent. Bradford made it easy for him, "Look,
either you agree to die a hero's death here and now, and do what you can
to protect your friends and family - or - you're gonna walk out that
door mostly on your own, and back to the new reality of which you've
just experienced a taste of."
"Alright," said David, "I'll do it. For the sake of my family, I'll do
it."
Kyle's faced visibly lightened as he said, "Good. Great. Now here's
what will happen. In a few minutes the doctor will come in and give you
an injection which will put you into a deep sleep. Your body will
remain in this room until after your family has had a chance to view and
identify it. At that time, or perhaps sooner - the Chronicle, which has
already been wanting details of the shooting, will make a press
announcement about your death. You will then be secretly taken to the
LPR facility down south for your treatments and education. In the mean
time, another body will be cremated here and your ashes scattered in the
sea during a small, but very public, ceremony in which the Department
will posthumously award you a citation for bravery. David Parmenter
will be dead, and the new you will be free from this whole sordid
affair."
"Wait - whose body will be cremated?" David asked.
Kyle replied, "You don't need to worry about that. Every day here in
the City, we have any number of homeless or transients that die. If no
one claims their body in two weeks, we cremate them. No, we have no
shortage of stand-in bodies."
"Well, OK," said David. "But listen, go easy on my mom will ya? She's
pretty old and frail now."
"Of course," said Bradford. "Remember, we're here to help you and your
family in getting out from underneath all this shit. The last thing we
want to do is upset or piss off anybody." After a slight pause he
continued, "OK then David. It was a pleasure to meet you. I only wish
more citizens stood-up for what's right like you had the courage to do.
It would really make our job a lot easier," and he held out his hand to
shake David's.
"What? Where are you going?" David asked. "Won't you be coming with
me?"
"No I can't," was the policeman's reply. "I will never see you again -
it has to be that way. If by some outside chance the mob found out that
you were still alive and that I knew of your new identity, then neither
of us would be safe. So I have to say goodbye at this point. Good luck
to you always." And he turned and left the room.
David sat, still unbelieving of what he had just agreed to. But the cop
was right. He couldn't continue to put his friends and family at risk -
his actions had already led to the death of one. He stood and moved
himself back to the bed, laying there with a million questions swirling
in his head, waiting for the needle which would spell the end of David
Parmenter, and the birth of - well - who?
* * * * * *
Within a few minutes, David heard the door being unlocked, and in walked
the doctor and nurse he had met before. She was holding a little
stainless steel tray covered by a white cloth. As they approached the
bed, the doctor spoke, "Good morning Mr. Parmenter. How are we doing
today?"
"Pretty good I guess," was David reply. "Is it time?"
The doctor and nurse looked at each other, and then turning back to him
said, "Yes, it is. And you must have a million questions. But
unfortunately, we don't really know very much. Our job is to certify
that you are dead, and convince everyone else of that fact. So here's
what we're gonna do. We will give you a drug which will put you to
sleep. At that point, the police take over, and we are pretty much out
of the picture except for the paperwork of course."
"Uhhh, OK," said David.
"Joan?" said the doctor as he motioned to the nurse who set the little
tray on the end table next to the bed. She lifted the cloth to expose a
rather large syringe, loaded up with an odd rose-colored fluid. She
picked it up and turned to David to administer the dose, but the doctor
touched her shoulder and stopped her.
"Mr. Parmenter," said the doctor, "As a doctor, I think it my duty to
ask you to confirm to me that you are a willing partner in this whole
affair, or program, or whatever they call it. Once you are declared
dead, there is no turning back. So let me ask you, are you sure you
want to go through with this?"
Waves of doubt swept through David's mind. "Yes? No? Oh god - am I
making the right choice?" But the reality of his situation came
flooding back to remind him of his, at least partial, responsibility for
Veronica's death, and how those assholes might pay visits to his other
friends, or worse, his mother. Steeling himself, David only answered,
"Yes, I'm sure."
Again the doctor and nurse looked at each other. "OK," said the doctor,
"go ahead," at which the nurse leaned forward to dispense the drug into
his body.
The doctor spoke to him as the mysterious fluid started to course
through his veins, "Mr. Parmenter, you are doing a very courageous and
ethical thing. I know of very few people that would be willing to..." but
as David looked up into the face of the doctor, the train-rush of the
drug began to hit him. Quickly his vision narrowed as he felt the drug
plowing into his brain. And then he was out. David Parmenter, at least
to the rest of the world, had died that day in the hospital.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Gert
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