Women with guns.

How many TV shows have you seen where the woman gets the bad guy's gun and points it at him, trembling? He steps slowly toward her. "You won't shoot. Give me the gun." And she ends up giving it to him, giving away her only advantage. Sound familiar?

Everytime I see that I think "Don't give it to him. At least shoot him in the leg so he can't chase you." But she never does.

I watched one movie, a pretty good one, actually, for this genre. The woman got the gun away from the guy whose accomplice was holding her daughter. The idea was that the girl would be killed if the bad guy didn't telephone in every hour. What could she do but give him back his gun? And of course she did!

I decided to write an alternative version. What follows is an off-the-cuff account of what I figure the woman should have done. I backed it up a bit to show how she might have got the gun away from him. See if you think it's reasonable.

Don't Give Up The Gun

[Man with gun is in woman's appartment. His accomplice has her daughter in an unknown location. She dare not leave or cause trouble, or her daughter might be killed. Story resumes.]

With apparent carelessness, Barb came out of the kitchen carrying two mugs of coffee. Hearing her approach, the man turned his eyes from the television screen and watched her cautiously. She tried not to let her rising nervousness cause her hands to shake; she had to keep him from guessing her intentions. The fingers of his right hand drummed the nearby table, beside the gun. She tried not to look at it, staring instead down at the coffee. While preparing the coffee in the kitchen she had decided that she had only one chance. She fought the nausea bubbling up from inside, trying to stay focussed, to appear as if spilling the hot liquid on the rug was her biggest worry.

She jiggled a little coffee on the table, grimacing “Ow, that’s hot!” she exclaimed, hoping that just the right amount of anguish was in her voice. She was right in front of him now. Slowly she offered the mug to him, coffee filled to the brim. She was holding the mug's handle, so he’d have to put his hand around the mug. “Careful, it’s full”, she warned him. Please let him take it in both hands, she pleaded silently, as she extended it toward his his left hand.

The ruse worked. His fingers closed around the mug, and she released it. As she hoped, the scalding hot mug was too painful for his fingers. The man brought his right hand up quickly to take the mug by the handle. Just as he pulled the mug out of his his fingers she acted. She flung her steaming hot coffee in his face.

The man screamed and jerked back in the chair, involuntarily bring his left hand up, too late, to protect his eyes. Years of habit worked to prevent him from dropping the mug for a split second. An instant was all Barb needed. She grabbed the gun and jumped back out of reach.

Cursing, the man flung away the cup of coffee and grabbed for her, but missed. “Freeze, asshole” she yelled, and levelled the gun at his face.

“God damn it! You bitch.” he cried, wiping coffee from his eyes. “You’ve had it. Your little girl’s dead now.” He took a step toward her.

She pointed the gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The boom was deafening, causing her to gasp and step back. Quickly she lowered the gun and pointed it at him. “Don’t come any closer!” she screamed.

The blast worked. The man’s survival instincts kicked in, and he froze. “OK. OK” he said. “Take it easy.”

Time stopped as they eyed each other, wondering what was going to happen next. Then she spoke sharply. “Sit down” she commanded. The man didn’t move and she made a motion toward him with the gun.

“OK,” he said, and he eased back into the chair. He took a big breath, and let his face relax. Inside, he was seething, furious at himself for getting taken by this woman. Doing his best to look confident, he smiled “Good move,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

Barb snorted with disgust, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

“No, really,” he continued. “That was a smooth move. You’ve got guts, I’ve got to say.” He paused, and the smile faded. “But playtime’s over. Put down the gun.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Barb replied grimly.

“You’re forgetting. My partner Barney’s got your daugher. If I don’t phone Barney to say that your husband’s wired the money, he kills her.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No you won’t,” he said. “You can’t chance it. You’re not going to trade your daughter for me, are you?” He smiled confidently, as he saw the tears well up in her eyes. “Who’s more important to you? Me or her?”

“Sh..sh..shut up,” she stammered, but kept the gun aimed at his nose.

“He might phone to see if everything’s OK any minute. If I don’t tell him everything’s fine, he’ll kill her and split town. Think carefully.” He watched her carefully as she burst into tears, watching the gun waver in her hand, looking for the right moment to leap.“You’ll never see her alive again”, he taunted.

“I said shut up,” Barb wailed. “Let me think”, she shouted. For a moment they stared at each other, then she waved the gun.

“Reach the phone and tell him to bring her here” she ordered.

“Can’t do that, Missy. He’ll smell a trap.”

“Do it anyhow.”

“No.”

“I – I’ll kill you.”

“No you won’t. Like I said, you can’t take that chance. You might as well give me the gun.”

“Here’s how I see it,” Barb replied, her voice steadier now. “I figure you are going to kill us anyhow.”

“No, we just want the money.”

“I’ve seen your face. My daughter’s seen you friend’s face. You’re going to kill us.”

“Of course not. You won’t tell because we have accomplises that will kill you, your husband, and your little girl if you do.” He shrugged. “But not me. I’m not a killer, just a business man.”

She stared at him. He had a handsome face, could have been a tennis player, she thought. Or the guy next door. His little smile mocked her. Amazing that he was so cool, considering she had a gun pointed at him. She looked deep into his eyes and shivered. The eyes told the real story. He hated her guts. He’s a charmer, that’s for sure, she thought. But those eyes.

A surreal calm seemed to come over her as she came to a decision.. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” she announced calmly. She took a step toward him, and took a deep breath. Suddenly, she pointed the gun down at his right thigh and pulled the trigger.

She was ready for the blast this time, but the man jumped in surprise and pain. He howled. “Oh! Shit! Shit!” He grabbed his leg. “You shot me! Oh, shit that hurts” Blood poured through his fingers. He moaned, and continued to curse.

“Hurts more than they pretend on TV?” she asked.

“God, yes! Why did you do that?” he demanded angrily. “That’ll cost you. You daughter’s dead. Do you understand me?”

“If she dies, so will you,” Barb replied, matter-of-factly. “Perhaps you should put your belt around your thigh before you bleed to death.”

“Put your hand on this while I take my belt off?”

She laughed. “Not a chance.”

He glared at her, then reached for a nearby pillow. He placed it over the wound and held it there with his elbow while he struggled to pull his belt off. She watched as he fed it under him and pulled it tight around his thigh.He wiped his bloody hands on the pillow, a little triumph.

She shrugged. “Now you’re going to phone your friend and tell him to bring back my daughter.”

“Won’t work. He won’t do it.”

She shrugged again. “Better hope he does, or you’ll bleed to death.”

“You bitch!” he spat. “I never hurt you!”

“Sorry.”

She walked over to the corner table and took the remote phone from its cradle. She tossed it into his lap. “Phone him,” she directed.

The man eyed the phone then stared at her insolently. He made no move to pick it up.

Without any warning, she stepped forward and fired, hitting him in the other leg below the knee.

“God! Damn you! Oh, God!” he shrieked. “My leg!” She waggled the gun. “OK. OK” he moaned.

“Phone him now.”

“OK

She squatted by the phone jack as he dialed. She could hear the phone ring on the other end. “Hi, Bud?” He looked at her carefully, then started to shout. “Bud, this bitch …”

Quickly she pulled the phone cord out of the wall. “That was a mistake,” she said, calmly. “Which arm do you want me to shoot?”

The man’s incredible confidence seeped away quickly. “N-n-no. No. Sorry,” he shrieked. “Don’t do that.”

Suddenly, her calm state cracked. “Then get me my daughter back, you asshole,” she shouted. “The next shot goes through your crotch. You’ll sing soprano if I let you live. Are you ready to try again?”

He nodded.

“Is there a donut shop or all-night convenience store anywhere near there?” she asked.

“Ya, a Mac’s Milk.”

“Then tell him there’s been a change in plans, that I’m going to pay a huge ransom. and that he’s to drop her at the Mac’s Milk and drive away. Tell him that when the owner of the store calls to say that she’s safe, you will leave here with the money.

“Do you think you can do that?” she asked, pointing the gun at his gut.

“Yes.”

“You’d better, or you die.”

“You’re still playing with your daughter’s life. If my pal smells a rat, she’s in trouble.”

“Then see that he doesn’t. I think your life is worth more to you than my daughter’s is to you, isn’t it? Didn’t I hear you say something like that before?”

He grunted, then, after she plugged in the phone cord, he dialed. “Hi Bud. Sorry about that. She started to run, and I had to chase her. Stupid bitch…Ya…How’s the girl? OK…Good…Look, something’s come up.”

Barb got ready to pull the plug.

“The bitch has some jewels, and a lot of money right here in a safe. If you bring back the girl she’ll open it. No, I can’t make her…No, don’t threaten her with the girl…No, she’s looney. She’s convinced we’re going to kill the girl anyhow and she figures this is her only chance…Here’s what you have to do.”

He told the man the new plans.

“She’ll open the safe when she hears from the store guy.”

“And my daughter.” Barb called.

“Ya, after she speaks with her daughter she’ll open the safe…Sure she will, or she dies…Ya, I’ll kill her. She knows that. All she cares about is the kid….Don’t argue, just do it….OK.”

As the man clicked off the phone, Barb nodded approvingly. “Good job. Throw me the phone.”

She caught the phone and dialled 9-1-1. “Get me the police….Yes. My daughter’s been kidnapped. The kidnapper’s accomplice is here, and he will tell you where she is being held. She’ll either be there, or the kidnapper will be taking her to a nearby Mac’s Milk…Yes. This is no joke. I’ve got a gun on him. I’m going to put him on and he’ll tell you where she is…What if he lies?” She laughed grimly. “I think he knows what will happen.”