Summary

In "When The Program Fails People Die Part IX," Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James recount a tense standoff where they and their companions, Manny and Roberto, fend off armed assailants in a diner, leading to a violent confrontation and subsequent police intervention.

Abstract

The narrative unfolds as Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James, writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine, find themselves embroiled in a dangerous situation at a diner. A group of men, led by a man who offensively refers to Roberto as "spic," demand that Roberto identify himself, setting the stage for a confrontation. Despite the aggressor's disregard for Roberto's preference not to be called by a slur, the situation escalates when one of the patrons, referred to as "Oldtimer," strikes the man with a pot of hot coffee. This act of defiance leads to a chaotic brawl, with Sunny, Henry, and Manny drawing their weapons and disarming two of the assailants. Meanwhile, Roberto engages in a brutal fight with the third man, showcasing his boxing skills and eventually subduing his opponent. The altercation ends with the arrival of the state police, who take control of the scene, confiscate the weapons, and arrest the thugs. Manny Hermanos, who had been identified by his credentials, convinces the police to release the weapons to him, with the exception of one owned by an individual with a Texas concealed handgun license, which is not valid in Pennsylvania. The group decides to follow the police, hoping to interrogate the arrested men to uncover who is targeting Victoria and Manny. The story concludes with the anticipation of new leads in the investigation.

Opinions

The author conveys a strong disapproval of derogatory language, as evidenced by Roberto's rejection of the term "spic."
The characters' quick thinking and decisive action in the face of danger suggest a belief in self-defense and the protection of others.
The narrative implies a sense

Fiction

When The Program Fails People Die Part IX

A Sunny Alexander-Johnson And Henry James Series

My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII

Before any of us could speak, Roberto slowly raised his hand and said, “that would be me. But mister, I don’t like the word spic. Never have. Never will.”

The rest of us remained still, watching as the stocky man slid his hand beneath his jacket.

“Hermanos, I don’t give a shit what you like. I got my orders. Oldtimer, slide your ass out real slow and easy and let the spic out. Then you three sit your asses right where they are, and we’ll be gone. Nobody has to get hurt.”

“Uh, yeah. Somebody does.”

“What’s that you old geezer? What did you just say?”

“I said somebody has to get hurt.”

The man never saw the pot coming as it connected against the side of his head, showering him in glass shards and scalding hot coffee. With a howl, he staggered back, and all four of us scrambled out of the booth. Three of us were armed, swinging up our weapons and advancing on the remaining two men even as they thrust their hands beneath their jackets. Manny immediately shouted at the two.

“Do not draw your weapons, or we will fire! I said, do not draw those damn weapons, or we will drop your asses where you stand!”

Behind us, the sounds of complete chaos rang out, chairs being knocked over, the sounds of fists striking flesh, and grunts of pain. At this point, the three of us knew better than to avert our gaze from the genuine threat in front of us. Manny was the first to reach the two men, quickly reaching beneath their jackets, pulling out their pistols and tossing them aside.

“On your stomachs assholes. Hands locked behind your heads.”

It wasn’t until we had the two men contained we all turned to see what was going on behind us.

Roberto and the third man were still going at it. Each time the man tried to reach beneath his jacket, the boy peppered him with a quick succession of jabs that literally snapped the man’s head back and forced him to stagger backward.

The man took a roundhouse swing at Roberto, who quickly slipped beneath it and then stepped to the man’s side, delivering a vicious kidney punch. The older man screamed in pain and went for his gun again, but again Roberto snapped the man’s head back with another set of jabs. Still bleeding from the cuts of the broken coffee pot, the man’s face resembled raw hamburger meat, as Roberto continued to pound away, finally pinning the thug against the counter.

Like a machine, Roberto lashed out, over and over, his fists making contact with the man’s face, snapping his head like a ragdoll to the left, then right then left again.

When the thug’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his knees buckled, Roberto hit him in the stomach, and when the man doubled over, the boy caught the thug square on the chin with an uppercut that lifted the man off his feet. Wordlessly, the thug slumped to the floor.

“Like I said, asshole. I don’t care for the word spic.”

“Damn, son, did you just beat that man to death?”

Roberto leaned down and pressed his fingers against his opponent’s neck for several seconds, then reached beneath the thug’s jacket and extracted a pistol. After walking over to us, he tossed the gun across the floor where the two henchmen’s pistols were.

“Nope, Mr. Henry. He’s still alive. Just sleeping for now.”

“Damn, Roberto. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like that in my life.”

“Thank you, Mr. Manny.”

“Good thinking on your part, kid. They were so focused on you and me it was just the element of surprise we needed.”

“Thanks, I just started thinking about what you would do Mr. Henry, and well, the rest came pretty naturally.”

“What Mr. Henry would do, huh? Probably get us all killed; that’s what Mr. Henry would do.”

“Bite my ass Hermanos.”

“Okay, folks, the state police are pulling into the parking lot. Everybody stay cool. Henry, Robert? Disarm and lay your weapons on the counter, then everybody sits down on the floor with your hands behind your heads. My guess is either those two gentlemen or the waitress, and the fry cook called the police. No telling what they told them.”

Manny laid his weapon on the counter, pulled his identification from his back pocket, then unlocked the front door, raised his hands, and stepped through the door.

We watched as a crowd of police converged on him, forcing him over the hood of one of the squad cars. After a few minutes of conversation, the police allowed him to straighten and followed him into the diner.

We remained seated on the floor as the police confiscated the three men’s weapons, inspected Robert’s credentials then returned Manny and Robert’s pistols.

Unfortunately, they wouldn’t turn over a particular individual’s weapon who although providing them proof of an up to date Texas concealed handgun license, was reminded it wasn’t applicable in the state of Pennsylvania.

After several minutes of argument, the lead patrol officer finally agreed to remand the pistol into the custody of Manny Hermanos with strict instructions not to release the weapon until both the owner and the gun made it back to Texas.

We watched the police load the thugs into the back of squad cars and walked out of the diner, standing near our car as the police cars began to roll out of the parking lot.

“So what now, Manny?”

“Sitting in the backs of those police cars is the answer to who’s trying to get to Victoria and me Henry. I want to take a crack at them. We follow the police and get in front of each of them. One of them’s bound to start talking.”

“Probably the best lead we’ve had all day.”

“Henry, it’s the only lead we’ve had all day.”

Read On — When The Program Fails People Die Part X

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