### The End?
It had been a long day, once again my team and I had worked late into the night. Crunch time is like that and I, as the lead programmer on the game needed to be there through all of it. Often, like tonight, I'd be the last one to leave the office. After I'd set the security system, I exited the office and then the building, headed across the parking lot to my car, a red BMW 650i Couple, for the short ride home.
My mind contemplating that we had finally broken the back of this project. We'd gone a week with the bug numbers declining. Sure, we still had several hundred to clear, but the find rate had declined and my team had kept up a steady fix rate. Two more weeks and we'd have a gold master to send off.
Halfway to my car, I realized I wasn't alone. I heard the footsteps of someone rapidly approaching me. Thanks to my thoughts being distracted by the project, I'd forgotten to start my music playing allowing me to hear the footsteps.
I turned to face the person coming at me from behind. I couldn't tell you what the person looked like or even whether they where a man or woman. All I saw was the gun in their hand, a gun pointed at me. Seeing it, my instincts went to duck and cover, and my body tried to duck down.
The gun flashed and the bullet ripped through my body, just above my heart, shattering the bones in my shoulder. Falling backwards, I hit my head on the boot of the car behind me before sliding down into a sitting position looking up at the shooter, silhouetted by the street lamps dotted around the parking lot.
The gun flashed a second time, or maybe it was six or seven guns that went off given that how many I saw. The bullet, there was only one, shattered my lowest rib on the same side as the first.
Barely able to keep my eyes open, I saw the shooter step forward and aim the gun again. At that moment, I hoped that my wife, Maggie, and my daughter, Emily, would forgive me for not being around anymore. And for all the time that I should have spent with them that I spent working on the next great game. I truly regretted all the time crunch time I'd worked over the last decade rather than being with my family.
Several people started yelling from somewhere, I would have sworn I recognized some of the voices. It didn't matter the gun went off again anyway, biting into my left leg. Then I watched as the shooter turned and ran away.
Moments later, a face I recognized leaned over and looked at me. Helen, a graphic artist in charge of our user interface design and implemented, and spoke to me. Trouble was I couldn't hear her.
Another face appeared, and then a third. I knew them both. Greg, our assistant producer, and Steve, the AI programmer, looked at me then glanced at each other with concern written all over their faces.
The world began to blur and fade away then. I fought to remain awake. I fought to keep my eyes focused on Helen, but I lost the fight in the end.
Next, I looked up into the eyes of someone I didn't know with my chest on fire. As the world faded back to black, I noticed the paddles in his hands. I'd died, he'd brought me back.
### Waking Up
Pain, not like I'd just felt but still pain that was the first thing I felt. I opened my eyes opened, and I saw the reason I felt the pain, a dull ache really, in my leg. A nurse, by the uniform, had a hold of my leg and was flexing it back and forth. Working out the muscles in the leg that I'd just been shot in.
I tried to speak, but I found my throat to be extremely dry. So, only a scratching grunt game out. Enough to have the nurse drop my leg onto the bed and turn to see my eyes watching her.
A few hours later, doctors had seen me, nurses had watered me with ice chips and I felt a little better, Well, I could talk at least. I seem to lack the strength to hold my own cup and it took all I could to raise my arm off the ground let alone do anything more.
But, at least I was alive.
I learned I'd been in this long term facility for ten months. That my only visitor had been my daughter but she hadn't been by in six months. It was her phone number that they had on record as my next of kin. They couldn't tell me anything about my wife or about my shooting.
The notes also asked for the police to be contacted should I wake. Which turned out to be my first visitors.
"Mister Alan John Atkinson?" asked the older of the two that came asked.
I nodded, he introduced himself, Detective Kevin Griffiths, and his partner, Dario Bosi, before asking if I could answer a few questions about my shooting. Which I agreed to, then I recounted what I remembered of that night. With that out of the way, the questions took off in a direction I didn't expect.
"Mr Atkinson, how long had you suspected your wife of having an affair?" Detective Bosi asked. Drawing a sharp look from his partner.
I sputtered, "having an affair? What the fuck are you talking about? Where is my wife? She'll tell you she's not having an affair with anyone!"
"Mr Atkinson, my apologies for my partner's ill-timed question. But, I regret to inform you that she was indeed having an affair with Isaac Gall. Do you know him?"
Maggie having an affair with someone. There was no way this was true. She was my whole world until Emily had been born eighteen, no nineteen now I guess, years ago. Just as I'd been hers. After that, it had been the three of us. We loved one another, and we loved our daughter, the proof of our love. They were why I worked as hard as I had. I wanted them to have everything they wanted. I could not comprehend her having an affair, it made no sense.
As for this Issac Gall, the name rang a bell but I couldn't place from where.
"I recognize the name, but..." I started then paused. Remembering who he was.
"He was my daughter's middle school English teacher," I told them.
"Yes, that's how we figure she met him. Did you know he lost that job?" Griffiths asked.
I shook my head, "no."
"He started an affair with an eighteen-year-old at the high school. Broke the school districts rules, but not the law. So, he lost his job and found he couldn't get a job teaching again. Anyway, his father suddenly passed away and he found himself in his second career, running the local coffee shop."
"G Cafe," I said, thinking about the place my wife loved to get her coffee from.
"Yes," he replied. "We think this is where your wife and Gall met again."
"That would be right, she loved the coffee in that place. I'd rather drink sewer water though," I told them.
"That would be the opinion of most of the town I would say. He barely broke even we've discovered."
"I still don't believe my wife is having an affair with this man. I can see how they would see each other regularly, she would go there often but an affair seems to be a big stretch to me."
"Okay. Let's try another line of questioning and we'll come back to that. Does your house have a security system?"
"Yes."
"What kind of system? Features?"
"Basic stuff really. Alarms on the garage, front and back doors. Motion detectors in the downstairs rooms. All with a direct connection to the alarm company we use."
"No cameras?"