Hacksaw's face dropped. "That's right." Linda continued as she walked around the room. "The great John "Hacksaw" Hatfield. A legend in his own mind....Now, Mai Quay, a lowly prostitute. How's it feel, John?" If you did this," he pleaded, "you've got to help me get out of here. I'll do anything you ask."Linda laughed. "Not a chance. I've been waiting for a revenge like this ever since that time you raped me. Oh, I remember. I've never forgotten. I carried the scars for a long long time.". I was floating up through the murk and mud. I couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t cold. My lungs weren’t hurting particularly. I knew what had happened. I was dead. The murk was just the mess I’d made of my life. Maybe I would have eternity to clear it up. For some reason I remembered just when I’d lost Hope.My mid-life crisis hit the day I realized thirty-three was half-way through my life expectancy. Of course, technically, having already survived Viet Nam, I should have had a much longer life. More

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