It Wasn't The Bullet (30) Charles, he had concluded, was Charles. An enigma of a man, a joyous and happy individual for the most part until that indiscernible black fog enveloped his thoughts and led him to the dank dark recesses of his mind. He would vanish for a couple of days, and return with no explanation of where he had been. Simon had toyed with the idea of sending a man to tail him, but could never bring himself to carry through that thought. The engines of the ferry growled as they reversed their thrust, the big ship shuddered as it slowed. He saw Charlie nod, and they both moved forward to herd their charges into the correct positions for disembarking. In the corner of his vision he saw Samantha, now with her golden hair covered by a black pageboy wig, looking more like a Sunday school teacher than the real thing, approach the unsuspecting sacrificial victim. As Simon and Charles moved into the most effective vantage points, Samantha innocently approached the boy, and by some ruse, cut him away from his friends. He was isolated now, headed squarely and inevitably to his fate. Her face was a picture of innocence and trust. Simon had a notion present itself, a thought that had appeared before, becoming more and more frequent as time moved past, he was no longer sure who was the more dangerous of their little group anymore. With Grateful and Endless Thanks to: My great friend JD, who selflessly proofread this novel, gave me encouragement, and honest criticism. Carol, who did a sterling job of pointing out my inadequacies as a writer in the nicest possible way. It Wasn’t The Bullet was written mostly to the sounds of: “Live Underslunky” by Ozric Tentacles “Good Dog, Happy Man” by Bill Frisell “Left of Cool” by Bela Fleck “Millenium Project” by The Millenium Project “Hot Rats” by Frank Zappa “Tubular Bells” by Mike Oldfield
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