The EXIT Interview

Nothing but a Zero

Chris sat on the wheelchair in front of a computer screen that displayed posche car images from the Internet. A pair of earphones supplied piece after piece of Rock music.

Outside Chris' Rock- music comfy zone, the world was relatively quiet and evolving around peace.

Mr. Zero, unnoticed by Chris, tiptoed stealthily in the room and stood by him. He was clad in the same dirty white shirt and a pair of the black trousers. And, he only had half a pair of shoes on.

Looking at Chris, Mr. Zero was overpowered by emotions. He could not hold back his tears within the eye brims. Also, he was a captive of hesitation. He could not summon the the courage to speak to the lad. This was chiefly because of the dirty clothes that covered his body.

Chris felt his presence. He took off his earphones but kept his gaze on the computer.

Mr. Zero stood behind him and spoke softly, "hey buddy."

"You're not my father," Chris snobbed.

Mr. Zero was taken aback. He, however, motioned forward and knelt by Chris. "You're a Wright," he emphasized. "You will always be my son."

"You are not my father!" Chris yelled. He, out of anger, removed his headset from his neck and smashed it on the floor. The hearing gadget reduced into a few pieces. After which, he sternly demanded, "Get out of my room!"

Mr. Zero was dumbfounded. He kept his place on the knee. His lips quivered, but he could not afford further utterance.

"You heard the boy," Martina advanced into the room with cautious steps. "You ain't the father."

Mr. Zero bobbed his head a couple of times before he sprung back to his feet. He turned around to face Martina.

To his great surprise and fear, Martina had taken aim at him with a loaded gun. It was at close range, with six rounds of ammunition were at her service. Her countenance was weaved with serious intent.

"What did they tell you?" Mr. Zero wondered.

Martina pulled the hammer of the gun back and her finger was wrapped around the trigger.

Mr. Zero raised his hands up, slowly. His eyes were fixed on Martina. He mumbled, "Hey, I didn't do it. Please hear me out."

At that moment, Klint badged in. He was high on cocaine and beer. Anger consumed him the moment he glanced at Mr. Zero. "I've been waiting to do this for a long time," he confessed in an angry tone.

Charging at Mr. Zero with unsteady steps, he clinched his fists. Ready to assault the former.

"Hey, hey man," Mr. Zero hoarsely tried to solicit for truce. "We don't have to do this."

Klint was already at the point of unleashing assault. He threw a punch at Mr. Zero. The latter mounted a block with two hands but the punch was too strong. Mr. Zero was forced two steps backwards.

Klint darted an in- swinger punch. Mr. Zero raised his left arm and blocked it, and landed his clinched fist on Klint's nose.

Klint staggered backwardly vehemently. His nose bled profusely. But he was not ready to give up. He motioned forward with with a rocketing punch. But Mr. Zero cunningly parried it. Klint slammed into Chris, and he knocked him to the floor.

Gasps of pain and heartbreak escaped Martina's mouth. She could not bear seeing Chris knocked off his chair. Even so, her trembling hands kept the gun pointed at Mr. Zero.

Mr. Zero quickly reached for Klint and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He pulled him up and drilled his fist at the back of his head. Klint fell to the floor helplessly.

"Get up!" Mr. Zero called aloud.

Klint rolled over and faced the ceiling. His breath was heavy and rapid as he laid on the floor helplessly.

Mr. Zero turned around and looked Martina in the eyes. She gazed back at him. Of course, she still had the gun pointed at him.

"Shoot," Mr. Zero ordered. "Shoot me."

Her hands trembled vehemently her index finger gently rested on the trigger.

"I know I'm not Chris' biological father," he took in a deep breath. "I met you when you were heavily pregnant for that bastard. He was nowhere to been seen. I accepted you the way you were. I was there for you and him. Do I honestly deserve this shit!? I also know that Alexis is using you. It's just a matter of time before you end up like me. Now, if you must shoot, shoot me."

A moment passed. Silence was all could be heard. Martina lowered her gun, as tears freely fell from her eyes.

Emotionally charged, Mr. Zero raised his hand and squeezed a fist. He closed his eyes for a moment. Tension boiled within his core. But he was man enough to walk away in peace.

The door to the main entrance swung open, and Mr. Zero barefoot was first to step out of the house. The other shoed foot followed suit before he came to a startled halt just in fron of the door. His eyes gaped wide. Slowly, he raised his hands in the air. And, he knelt down, then laid postrate on the floor.

In front of Mr. Zero, an army of armed Police was arrayed cautiously behind a swam of bullet- proof vehicles, whose beacons flashed red and blue interchangeably.

Five armed Police Officers doubled up and surrounded Mr. Zero. They all took aim with their guns at him. They were ready to assualt him in case of an ounce of opposition.

Alexis strolled to where Mr. Zero was confined. "That's Zero. Take him away."

One of the armed Police Officers quickly cuffed Mr. Zero's hands behind his back and marshalled him to his feet.

"Gilbert Zero," The senior officer amid the armed quintet spoke, "You're under arrest for the murder of a sitting President, Mr. Sam Wade. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

As Mr. Zero was led away into the police car, cameras flashed bright as media outlets fought to get pictures and videos for the breaking story. Neighbours, some standing on their parcels of residence and others peeping through the windows, witnessesed the arrest.

Sirens squealed aloud as the police party drove escorted Mr. Zero away to a secret holding cell. Looking through the window as he was led away, Mr. Zero saw Alexis standing by Martina, Klint and Chris.

The nightmare was finally over.

But for Mr. Zero, it was just the begining. He was just a nobody after- all.