This past Sunday night at 11:00 p.m., a friend of mine, James, took a moonlit walk in a Harm City park with a young man who suffers from insomnia. This young fellow is a recovering addict who needs an older person to speak with. James has been informally counseling him.

About 15 minutes back along the asphalt trail two figures appeared in the darkness behind them. By their silhouettes they appeared to be young males. Each figure raised a hand and shots rang out, “Three or four, from two weapons…nine millimeters I think. They were about thirty yards back.”

James’ companion was hit in the face. He did not hear the sounds of bullets impacting on trees or rocks. They cut uphill and ran out of the steep hollow cut by the stream toward the athletic fields. The ground was icy. The two gunmen gave chase but slipped running on the asphalt path. They had apparently followed James and his friend and lost their way in the pursuit.

James was still feeling relieved this morning, four days after the episode, “Fortunately they did not know how to run on ice. I never knew I could run so fast. I think we covered about a mile then hit some backstreets and took the long way to his house. Although we did not get a look at their faces he believes he knows who they are; probably someone from his druggie past. They had to have followed us. We never see anyone there at night, and they wouldn’t have been waiting in ambush in that cold, not out there. Thank God they were terrible shots. I’m a big target. Ben’s face –his cheek—was grazed. I won’t be taking a midnight stroll in the park anytime soon. It took about three hours for my heart to stop pounding, and that was with plenty of help from my friend Jameson.”