Armed Man Number Three

Lynn and Annie have wandered into the wrong neighborhood. The two women, sixty-ish, well kept, are on their way to book club. They do not belong in the shadows of a large, ominous building. Lynn nudges Annie but she just prattles on. "Of course I didn't read the book. Who reads the book? We're just there to drink wine and be colorful."

Two cars, sirens screaming, swerve around them. The women plaster themselves against the building. Three armed men run out with automatic rifles, blasting at the cars. "Grab them!" the first armed man says. The second armed man jerks and falls down, blood spurting. The women shriek. "Hey you," the first armed man shouts at the third armed man, gesturing at the door, "this way!"

Inside the women are surrounded by many armed men, dressed in black, scurrying, shouldering weapons. They goggle, wide-eyed.

"We don't belong here," Annie yells. 

"Get them upstairs," the first armed man directs the third armed man.

"But, they're just a coupla old ladies," groans the third armed man. "I'll just show them out the back…"

"Find out what they know. They didn't just show up here," the first armed man commands.

"Yes, yes we did," pleads Lynn. 

"We're adorable book club people," Annie says. "Not…" she waves her hands around. "This." She suddenly remembers the bottle of wine in her canvas bag and grasps it. She raises it up to the second armed man's head, but he neatly grabs it out of the air. Lynn's knees buckle. Annie grimaces. He looks at the bottle.

"That's a nice chardonnay," he says. The clamor around them intensifies. Men smash windows and poke guns out. "C'mon," he says, ushering the women upstairs. He tucks the bottle under his arm.   

Annie stares down the automatic rifle barrel pointed six inches from her face. Sweat drips off her nose. She shakes her head. Strands of frizzy gray hair whirl around and stick to her face. She looks up from the gun barrel. "Buddy," she says to the grunting hulk holding the rifle, "can you do a lady a favor? My hands are tied, you know, because you tied them, but the hair, in this heat, is killing me."

Lynn, tied up in the chair next to her, gasps. "Annie," she whispers harshly.

"Poor word choice. Sorry. But can you just, take a sec and pull the hair off my face?"

The third armed man wipes sweat off his own forehead with the back of his hand. "Shut up,' he replies.

Annie looks at Lynn. "You were right. Short hair for older women. Much better." She turns back to the man with the gun. "Well?"

He takes two beefy fingers and drags the hair across Annie's face. She smiles. "You're not such a bad guy after all." His radio squawks static and he backs away, still pointing the rifle. 

"Whaddya want me to do?" he barks into the radio. More static. "I don't know why they're here. I mean, they're…" He glances at the two women and shrugs. "They're just old ladies." He listens and nods. "No, no, it wouldn't take much." He frowns. "No, don't send Butchie in. I'll…I'll take care of it."

"Just old ladies huh?" Annie says indignantly. "We're very sprightly."

Lynn glances at Annie and shakes her head. "Mr…um, Mr…" she says softly, "We don't know your name."

"Shut up," he yells at Lynn. "Both of you. Keep your mouths shut or I'll make you talk."

Annie snorts. "Now that makes sense. Come on, let us go. You said it, we're old. We got cataracts, hearing aids and we're senile. Now untie us and let us dodder our way home." She tries to stand up and knocks the chair over. Lynn yelps. The hulk jumps back and drops his radio. Annie shuffles over to Lynn and stands in front of her.

"Untie me with your teeth Lynnie!" She steps back, stumbles into Lynn and shoves her over in the chair. Annie falls backwards on top of her. Two men, dressed in black and carrying rifles, burst into the room.

"What's happening in here?" yells one of the men.

Annie howls. "You bit me!" she yells at Lynn.

"Your ass was smothering me!" Lynn yells back. 

All three men shout "Shut up" as the women twist on the floor. 

"Help us up," Lynn says sternly. "We at least deserve some dignity. What would your mother say?"

"Do you think they have mothers?" Annie asks. 

"Everyone has a mother," Lynn replies. 

Annie pulls herself into a sitting position. She looks at the third armed man. "You do have a mother, don't you, hon?"

He points his gun at her again. "Yeah, I do. I…uh…of course I do. Shut up!"

Lynn struggles to stand but can't work her way around the fallen chair. 

He grunts at the two men who came in. "Get them back in them chairs. I'm not done…questioning them." The men pull Annie and Lynn up and resettle them in the chairs.

Annie jerks away from the men's hands. "Now untie us. What're we going to do? Overpower the goon squad here?" 

The third gunman nods at the two men. "Untie their hands. They ain't going anywhere and that one keeps getting hair in her mouth." They untie the women's hands. "Now don't try anything like that again or I'll tie you to the chairs." He turns to the two gunmen. "Tell him I'll be done with these two soon." The two gunmen look at the women, back to the third armed man, shrug, and leave.

"Who's 'him'?" Annie asks.

"Boss man. Guy behind this whole operation. You ladies don't want to cross him up."

Lynn tilts her head. "That the guy you work for?" He nods. "He pays you well?"

He shifts and lowers the gun slightly. "He pays me."

Annie looks at him curiously. "What kind of money does a good henchman make these days?"

"Henchman?" He looks confused.

"Well, what would you call yourself?" Lynn asks.

"I just work for him. You shut up now."

Annie points a finger at him. "You're a henchman. You do this guys bidding, right? Even if it means hurting people."

"I'm a…a loyal employee. I do what it takes. I'm a…"

"Walking cliché," Annie says. "How many of you guys are there? Do you know each other's names? Families? Hobbies? Or do you just come in and 'hench' every day. No questions asked."

"Shut…"

Lynn folds her arms. "What kind of education did you get? Do you have any training in being a henchman?"

Annie smiles. "Do you have a henchman healthcare plan? Life insurance?"

"What?" His shoulders start to slump.

"Is there any kind of plan?" Lynn asks. "Because you know, it seems to me you guys are a dime a dozen. When we walked into this massive, unused factory with lots of open floors and steaming pipes…"

"We were lost," Annie interrupts. "Trying to find a giddy party of spirited old women who look good for their age."

"Right," Lynn continues. "So many of you guys just running around while better dressed guys in bullet-proof vests who are much better shots than any of you send, like, dozens of you guys careening off the platforms…"

"Stop!" he yells. "We're here to protect the big boss."

"Why?" Annie asks. "What do you get out of it? Are you all dying in this fake factory for world peace? Or just lazily written action scenes?"

"I…shut…up," he says weakly. The gun starts to point towards the floor.

"So tell me, do you guys have a union? Anyone to look out for you?" Annie asks. "Because you always seem to get a raw deal. The good guys just blow you away. Like you don't have mothers. Or fathers. You're all just one Wilhelm scream away from oblivion."

"What are you talking about?" he asks angrily. "I'm here doing my job."

"Wouldn't you like to win once in a while? Enjoy some chardonnay?" Lynn asks, tapping her foot.

He lays his gun down. "I don't understand."

"Untie us and we'll explain," Annie says. "Tell us your name."

"Armed Man Number Three. But usually I'm called – 'hey you, this way.'"

Lynn wipes a tear. "That's so sad. You must have a real name. Like Doug. Or Barney." 

He unties their legs. Lynn and Annie stand, shaking out their feet. Lynn stumbles and the gunman catches her. She smiles at him.

"Arthur," Lynn says. "I think your name is Arthur." He reaches for his gun, but Lynn gently touches his arm. "Tell me about your boss, Arthur. The one so many are willing to die for."

"Um. I've never met him. I get orders from Armed Man Number One. It's what I do. If he don't tell me what to do…" He shrugs.

"Doesn't," Lynn corrects. "I think we can find something else for you."

"Right now," Annie explains, "you are an undeveloped background character in a trashy action movie. Or TV show. Doesn't matter. You are expendable. And that's, well…"

"Sad," Lynn says. "Honestly, you deserve better dialogue. A chance to impact the outcome."

Arthur sits on the floor and holds his head in his hands. "I only ever get to say mean things. Was I supposed to kill you ladies? I never got the word."

Lynn shakes her head slowly. "Never."

Annie says, "You'll keep saying mean, stupid things instead of shooting us right away, so at the last minute, two good guys with guns strapped to their thighs and one very toned woman in tight clothes can blast their way in here."

"And?" Arthurs asks quietly.

"You'll join Armed Men Two through Thirty-Five," Lynn says.

He looks up at the women. "What can I do?"

Lynn studies him. "You like wine, right?" He nods. "Well somewhere along the way, you were somebody else."

"But your big hulking body and, forgive me, dumb looking face, keep getting you into places like this," Annie says. "If you come with us, right now, to the book club, maybe…"

Lynn brightens. "You could be the quirky gay friend!" 

Annie nods vigorously. "It would be casting against type but that's a thing these days." She looks at him sideways. "Can you read?"

He shrugs. "I guess. Ransom notes. Like that."

"Good enough," Lynn says. 

Arthur leads the women down back stairs and away from the building. Two blocks away he stops, looking bewildered. 

"We've got it from here," chirps Lynn. They walk a few blocks until the streets turn leafy and shaded. "Shouldn't we find him some new clothes?"

"Do you see a "big and hulking' store anywhere?" Annie asks. But as they turn the corner, Arthur jumps ahead of them and twirls. He's wearing salmon-colored pants and an oversize Hawaiian shirt.

"Let's stop and get some rosé," Arthur says cheerily. "Chardonnay is such a cliché."