Chapter 2
The man who just ended Aaron Sanders’ life hid beside a storage building in the alley behind what used to be the hardware store. If he had to worry about a professional police force, the man would be halfway to the state line by now.
But based on his findings concerning the Langford Police Department, the word “professional” should never be used in the same sentence.
He was afraid the guy from the newspaper might have seen him, but also knew that it would be impossible to identify a person running away from the building.
It was kind of fun to watch the reactions of the cop, the newspaper guy and the two men who showed up shortly after the gun shot. Something had them concerned with the big guy’s chest. Every few seconds they would look back toward the building, but had not made any move to check it out.
The man did not get any enjoyment out of killing. It was simply his duty for a cause that many people did not believe in. But that was fine. He knew one day the tide would turn and one of their enemies would have him cornered.
He knew tears would never flow from his eyes and no babbling would happen. He had to hand it to the Sanders guy. He took it like a man. Just closed his eyes and clenched his body.
Some of the blood had splattered on him. He planned to burn these clothes later, not that it mattered. The man just hoped none of the blood got on his boots. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing something this garish. But the boots and western attire had helped him and his friends fit in here in hickville.
Now, he actually liked the boots and the snakeskin cover. Plus the women seemed to like them, even the ones with all of their teeth. As he slowly escaped into the shadows, the man’s phone rang. He had forgotten to turn the ringer off and it sounded loud enough to wake the dead, a necessity for him to hear the ringer after too many gunshots in too many tight quarters. He grabbed the phone before it rang a second time, opened and shut the flip part while peering around the corner of a building.
-----
“That sounded like a phone going off,” Chief Arnold said. They had all heard it and were looking in the direction of where the sound came from.
“That’s because it was,” Squiggy said. “A Nokia!”
“Like you’d know,” Mule said. His chest was hurting now. The Chief was grabbing his chest and pressing with all his might. “Chief Porky, you’re hurting the Mule!”
The chief gritted his teeth and gave an extra squeeze. Suddenly, there was a popping sound and the chief wheeled backwards quickly. His face had speckles of white all over.
“Ugh!” the chief said and spit several times. “I think I swallered some zit!”
Squiggy started to laugh while Mule was bowed over in pain. He started groaning and wouldn’t quit.
Michael had enough of this silly stuff and started walking toward where they heard the phone ring. He wasn’t positive, but thought whomever he saw run away might still be hiding in the alley.
Squiggy stopped laughing as he saw his buddy take off. “Where you goin, Mikey?”
Michael didn’t answer, just walked straight toward the alley. He realized this probably wasn’t the smartest thing he had done lately, but wasn’t all that concerned.
Squiggy walked over to his truck and opened the door. Out hopped a dog with an enormous head. It was a pit bull slobbering in amounts that would probably set a record if there was some kind of record.”Hold up, Mikey, here comes Psycho!”
“Oh great,” Michael said. He turned around to watch the dog sprint toward him. He and Psycho had never gotten along all that great, dating back to the first day they met. The dog was crazier than its owner and that took some doing.
“Wait up!” Squiggy said. Psycho pulled up next to Michael and started sniffing up and down his legs. She tried to check out the private area but Michael put a stop to that.
He looked back and saw what appeared to be a trail of blood or slobber. “What’s wrong with your dog?”
Squiggy caught up and was already breathing hard from the twenty-yard run. He held up his finger, wanting to catch his breath.
“She’s in heat. I been trying to breed her but she won’t take no dog. Last one I tried, Psycho bit half the dog’s dang ear off. We been playing Frisbee with it the last couple of days.”
Chief Arnold hopped in the police car and drove to the alley with all the lights blaring. He was on the radio calling for backup. Unfortunately, the other policeman on duty was answering nature’s call at the pizza joint and left his radio on the table. The chief didn’t want to do it, but called for the county sheriff’s help.The chief was about to get out of the car when it happened.
-----
The man knew this was not good. He was trapped behind the corner of the building, the lights shining all around him. He couldn’t move without being seen. He slammed his hand against the concrete wall, frustrated with his stupidity and a phone call at the wrong time.
He had successfully operated in places like Dallas and Houston without getting caught. Now, some rinky-dink, fat cop was going to capture him. But not without a fight, the man decided.
As soon as the policeman opened the door, the man leaned around the corner of the building and started firing. The first bullet was low, but scored, hitting the cop in his foot.
The cop jumped up and down twice, then dove back into the car right before two more shots followed, shattering the windshield and sending glass all over Chief Arnold. The man took off running, paying no attention to the shouting from behind.
-----
“I’m hit!” Chief Arnold hollered. He hollered this several times in a row, then grabbed the radio and said it again, only remembering to push the button on the mic on the third try. He looked down at his foot and saw smoke coming from the big hole in his boot. Chief Arnold didn’t care what anybody said, it did hurt when you were shot.
When the first shot went off, Squiggy and Michael dove to the ground. They waited for the shots to stop and glanced up, grateful that the road was actually below the sidewalk and offered some protection. They slowly looked over the edge and saw the chief squirming in his car.
He looked like a big slab of bacon sizzling in the frying pan. Michael was the first to get up and ran over to Chief Arnold’s car.
“Are you okay?” he asked, ducking down behind the door.
“Crap no!” Chief Arnold screamed in a blood-curdling voice. “I’ve been shot in my foot!”
Squiggy and Psycho arrived next. Squiggy tried to keep from doing it, but was quickly laughing.
“It ain’t funny!” Chief Arnold hollered.
“Have you called for help?” Michael asked.
“We don’t need no help,” Squiggy said. “Sic em, Psycho!”
The dog started for the police chief, who looked even more terrified as the pit bull came after him.
“Not him, you dumb dog,” Squiggy said. “Go after the gun!”
Psycho took off after the shooter, Squiggy trailing a short distance behind. Michael looked around for Mule, but he was nowhere to be found.
-----
The man was running as hard as possible. His truck was only a few yards away when he heard something behind him, coming even faster. He turned around and saw the dog bearing down on him.
The man made it to his Chevy truck, but knew there was no way to get inside before the dog arrived. That left him with only one option. He spun around, raised his pistol and took aim.
"No!” yelled Squiggy, who was some twenty yards behind his dog.
The man was about to pull the trigger, never seeing the blur coming from the side.
But based on his findings concerning the Langford Police Department, the word “professional” should never be used in the same sentence.
He was afraid the guy from the newspaper might have seen him, but also knew that it would be impossible to identify a person running away from the building.
It was kind of fun to watch the reactions of the cop, the newspaper guy and the two men who showed up shortly after the gun shot. Something had them concerned with the big guy’s chest. Every few seconds they would look back toward the building, but had not made any move to check it out.
The man did not get any enjoyment out of killing. It was simply his duty for a cause that many people did not believe in. But that was fine. He knew one day the tide would turn and one of their enemies would have him cornered.
He knew tears would never flow from his eyes and no babbling would happen. He had to hand it to the Sanders guy. He took it like a man. Just closed his eyes and clenched his body.
Some of the blood had splattered on him. He planned to burn these clothes later, not that it mattered. The man just hoped none of the blood got on his boots. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing something this garish. But the boots and western attire had helped him and his friends fit in here in hickville.
Now, he actually liked the boots and the snakeskin cover. Plus the women seemed to like them, even the ones with all of their teeth. As he slowly escaped into the shadows, the man’s phone rang. He had forgotten to turn the ringer off and it sounded loud enough to wake the dead, a necessity for him to hear the ringer after too many gunshots in too many tight quarters. He grabbed the phone before it rang a second time, opened and shut the flip part while peering around the corner of a building.
-----
“That sounded like a phone going off,” Chief Arnold said. They had all heard it and were looking in the direction of where the sound came from.
“That’s because it was,” Squiggy said. “A Nokia!”
“Like you’d know,” Mule said. His chest was hurting now. The Chief was grabbing his chest and pressing with all his might. “Chief Porky, you’re hurting the Mule!”
The chief gritted his teeth and gave an extra squeeze. Suddenly, there was a popping sound and the chief wheeled backwards quickly. His face had speckles of white all over.
“Ugh!” the chief said and spit several times. “I think I swallered some zit!”
Squiggy started to laugh while Mule was bowed over in pain. He started groaning and wouldn’t quit.
Michael had enough of this silly stuff and started walking toward where they heard the phone ring. He wasn’t positive, but thought whomever he saw run away might still be hiding in the alley.
Squiggy stopped laughing as he saw his buddy take off. “Where you goin, Mikey?”
Michael didn’t answer, just walked straight toward the alley. He realized this probably wasn’t the smartest thing he had done lately, but wasn’t all that concerned.
Squiggy walked over to his truck and opened the door. Out hopped a dog with an enormous head. It was a pit bull slobbering in amounts that would probably set a record if there was some kind of record.”Hold up, Mikey, here comes Psycho!”
“Oh great,” Michael said. He turned around to watch the dog sprint toward him. He and Psycho had never gotten along all that great, dating back to the first day they met. The dog was crazier than its owner and that took some doing.
“Wait up!” Squiggy said. Psycho pulled up next to Michael and started sniffing up and down his legs. She tried to check out the private area but Michael put a stop to that.
He looked back and saw what appeared to be a trail of blood or slobber. “What’s wrong with your dog?”
Squiggy caught up and was already breathing hard from the twenty-yard run. He held up his finger, wanting to catch his breath.
“She’s in heat. I been trying to breed her but she won’t take no dog. Last one I tried, Psycho bit half the dog’s dang ear off. We been playing Frisbee with it the last couple of days.”
Chief Arnold hopped in the police car and drove to the alley with all the lights blaring. He was on the radio calling for backup. Unfortunately, the other policeman on duty was answering nature’s call at the pizza joint and left his radio on the table. The chief didn’t want to do it, but called for the county sheriff’s help.The chief was about to get out of the car when it happened.
-----
The man knew this was not good. He was trapped behind the corner of the building, the lights shining all around him. He couldn’t move without being seen. He slammed his hand against the concrete wall, frustrated with his stupidity and a phone call at the wrong time.
He had successfully operated in places like Dallas and Houston without getting caught. Now, some rinky-dink, fat cop was going to capture him. But not without a fight, the man decided.
As soon as the policeman opened the door, the man leaned around the corner of the building and started firing. The first bullet was low, but scored, hitting the cop in his foot.
The cop jumped up and down twice, then dove back into the car right before two more shots followed, shattering the windshield and sending glass all over Chief Arnold. The man took off running, paying no attention to the shouting from behind.
-----
“I’m hit!” Chief Arnold hollered. He hollered this several times in a row, then grabbed the radio and said it again, only remembering to push the button on the mic on the third try. He looked down at his foot and saw smoke coming from the big hole in his boot. Chief Arnold didn’t care what anybody said, it did hurt when you were shot.
When the first shot went off, Squiggy and Michael dove to the ground. They waited for the shots to stop and glanced up, grateful that the road was actually below the sidewalk and offered some protection. They slowly looked over the edge and saw the chief squirming in his car.
He looked like a big slab of bacon sizzling in the frying pan. Michael was the first to get up and ran over to Chief Arnold’s car.
“Are you okay?” he asked, ducking down behind the door.
“Crap no!” Chief Arnold screamed in a blood-curdling voice. “I’ve been shot in my foot!”
Squiggy and Psycho arrived next. Squiggy tried to keep from doing it, but was quickly laughing.
“It ain’t funny!” Chief Arnold hollered.
“Have you called for help?” Michael asked.
“We don’t need no help,” Squiggy said. “Sic em, Psycho!”
The dog started for the police chief, who looked even more terrified as the pit bull came after him.
“Not him, you dumb dog,” Squiggy said. “Go after the gun!”
Psycho took off after the shooter, Squiggy trailing a short distance behind. Michael looked around for Mule, but he was nowhere to be found.
-----
The man was running as hard as possible. His truck was only a few yards away when he heard something behind him, coming even faster. He turned around and saw the dog bearing down on him.
The man made it to his Chevy truck, but knew there was no way to get inside before the dog arrived. That left him with only one option. He spun around, raised his pistol and took aim.
"No!” yelled Squiggy, who was some twenty yards behind his dog.
The man was about to pull the trigger, never seeing the blur coming from the side.
posted by Craig Hall | 7:27 AM
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