The machine pistols were fully automatic, and each held a two hundred round clip. Jimmy had liberated them from the evidence room of the Rochester Police Department's downtown office, along with several spare clips, and more than two thousand rounds of additional ammunition. "These will do the job," Jimmy had said, "if anything will."
The machine pistols had been taken in one of the many raids on drug houses on the city’s north side, Jimmy had told them, as he had pointed out a room that to Frank looked as if it could hold a small banquet.
The room had been filled to overflowing with weapons of all types, including what looked to Frank to be an Army issue fifty mm anti-aircraft gun. "They use those?" Frank had asked, incredulously.
"Those and anything else they can get their hands on," Jimmy had answered solemnly.
I wonder if we should have bought the anti-aircraft gun, Frank thought now, as he watched the calm blue-green water of the lake slip by. "I hate the thought of having to use this," he said, as he slipped the gun into a leather side holster that had been with it. The holster had obviously been custom-made for the previous owner of the weapon and included a long slit in one side that allowed the weapon to be holstered with the clip in place. The initials A. S. were burned into one side of it.
"So long as you use it when the time comes, Frank," Ira said. "Don't hesitate, just do it, it's us or them."
"Oh I wouldn't hesitate, Ira," Frank said, "I just won't like it while I'm shooting it." He frowned, but in truth the weight of the gun against his hip was comforting.
Gary pushed the throttle forward as they left the shallows of the lake, and began to move across the dark blue waters toward Fort Drum. Frank relaxed back into one of the vinyl boat seats, and let the wind flow through his black hair. Had it ever smelled so sweet, or felt so good, he asked himself. Probably not, he told himself. He wondered if maybe that was the way it was though when you were about to die. If suddenly everything began to look a lot better, he supposed it was. He couldn't rightly say that he felt as if he were going to die, but he couldn't say he didn't either. He looked around at the others. Gary had a grim smile plastered across his mouth as he leaned into the rush of wind, piloting the speed-boat. Ira was sitting in the seat across from Frank, idly picking at a loose thread in the cushion, a worried look on his face, and Jimmy was leaned back in a backwards facing seat directly in front of Frank, with his hands clasped behind his head and his eyes shut. Frank tried but he could not shake the doomed feeling that had clutched him. It wouldn't let go, no matter what he tried to think of besides where they were going, and what they were going to attempt to do. He couldn't shake it, the grip was too tight.
Ira turned and spoke. "Seems like the end don't it, Frank," he said in a matter-of-fact voice.
Jimmy opened his eyes and leaned forward as Frank spoke. "It does at that, but I've never had much that I cared about in life except my kids, and now Annie; and now God. I don't want to die, but it isn't something I'm afraid of anymore."
"I feel about the same," Jimmy said, "no kids, no wife, I thought being a cop was all there was," he shook his head, "I'm in no hurry to die either..." he shrugged his shoulders, "It won't make me avoid it though, or walk away from it, I'm in it to the end."
They both looked at Ira as he spoke. "It ain't so hard to die. It ain't something I want to do again though. At least I know there's something there, and it makes a big difference far as I'm concerned."
"What's it like, Ira?" Jimmy asked, echoing the same question that Frank had been thinking.
"I don't know as I kin explain it well enough..." Ira replied, "It's sort of like what you think it is. Like...if you think it'll be hangin' around in a cloud all day, and talkin' to angels, I guess it could be that for you," he paused. "For me it was playing checkers. It was something I used to like to do, and never had time for. I played a couple of games with my dad..." his voice broke softly, "he hadn't changed a bit, still cheated'. It also means spending time with God, talkin' to him if you want to. I played checkers with him too, beat him on occasion, course I think he let me. It's everything you think it is, that's the best I kin say toward explaining it," he paused, and sighed. "One thing is life does have a bit on it. The taste of a cold beer, food, Cora, feelin' hungry even, life does have something on it. But death ain't a bad place at all, you kin live there and have it agree with you."
"That's a good thing to know, Ira," Frank said quietly, "if it's what you say, I guess it isn't half bad then."
Jimmy had once again closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. "It's a damn sight better than I thought it would be," he said softly.
"What the hell you worrywarts talking 'bout now?" Gary called out, over the sound of the wind.
"Just life in general, Gary'," Frank answered. "How you doing?" Frank asked of Gary's back. "Why can't you put this thing on auto pilot or something?"
Gary stared over his shoulder at Frank, a look of
