Surrounded by the Enemy

The Schroeder family began to fall apart following the death of its youngest member. Hilda cried so much that she couldn’t go to work for weeks. George, maintaining the image of a strong man, only missed work for a few days, and went back the day after his son was put into the ground. The one noticeable change was that he drank himself to sleep every night. Katie, the weakest of all of the Schroeders, couldn’t bear to live in the family’s house any more, so she left and moved in with her latest boyfriend. The glue that had been holding them all together was dissolving. If it weren’t for the efforts of Henry, there would be no family at all. It was Henry who made all the funeral arrangements for Eddie. It was Henry who constantly pestered the police to do more to determine if Eddie had been murdered. And it was Henry who became the only reason Hilda and George Schroeder had to continue living. He did his best to make up for the loss of his sibling, engaging his parents in conversation or showering his mother with affection when she needed it most. Without realizing it, Henry’s activities had helped him deal with the family’s tragedy as well. He had kept himself so busy that he had no time to feel sorry for himself or anyone else. He felt useful. The only thing that would have made him feel better was for the police to arrest the person or persons responsible for Eddie’s death, and since they hadn’t, Henry had plans to take care of them himself, in fact it was almost identical to the fantasy he had daydreamed about when he first learned of his brother’s death. He was going to the stronghold of the Bishops to buy some dope like he had done so many times in the past few weeks, only this time he was going to kill every Bishop that he found in their abandoned building drugstore. This plan was different than the fantasy in one crucial way. Henry Schroeder had no intention of being another of the gang’s victims. He began to view this act of revenge as a military operation, similar to the many he had participated in during the war. And although he was away for two years, his old street contacts fixed him up with some real firepower. He had managed to scrape almost five hundred dollars together, some his own, and the rest from his dead brother’s stash, hidden under his mattress, alongside the dope that killed him. A handgun would never do, so he bought the same type of weapon he had learned to use so well in Vietnam, a Colt AR15. The AR15 was a lightweight, small, automatic rifle capable of unleashing terror quickly and efficiently, the kind that would send a message to any Bishop who wasn’t there for Henry’s little party. And, to add insult to their injuries, he was planning to steal whatever heroin, marijuana, pills, cocaine, or money he found. Not only would he walk away feeling somewhat satisfied at having avenged Eddie’s death, but by stealing the drugs and the money, the cops would probably conclude that this was a drug related crime, and any connection to the Schroeder family would remain non-existent. Besides, he was completely broke now, having used the last of his savings on his new toy, the Colt. The drugs and the money would be a welcome by-product of his mission. All that remained for Henry to do was to pick the time and day of the attack. As if he were back in the jungle doing re-con, he sat in his car watching the Bishop’s building from a block away, using a pair of binoculars to assist him. He watched patiently for days until he felt that the time was right.