Grid Down the New Reality by Bruce Buckshot Hemming & Lori Dannon

Author:Bruce Buckshot Hemming & Lori Dannon [Hemming, Bruce Buckshot & Dannon, Lori]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B079X5TMPS
Publisher: Creat Space
Published: 2018-02-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

If you’re going to play you have to pay!

“Justice is sweet and musical; but injustice is harsh and discordant.”

~Henry David Thoreau

Robbie was yelling now. “Can’t this crate go any faster? They’re gaining on us!”

Joe remarked with irritating calm, “If we didn’t have the trailer slowing us down, it would help. Want to stop and unhook it?”

Robbie bent down so he could look out the side mirror. “Hey! They’re just pacing us. Why would they do that?” he asked in disbelief.

Joe shot back, “How should I know? Maybe they don’t want to commit murder on a public highway three miles from town. Just a random thought, you understand.”

Robbie grimaced. He was grateful that Joe didn’t fold under stress, but he wasn’t sure that letting his dry sense of humor loose under stress was much better.

They kept glancing in the mirrors, but the three trucks didn’t pull any closer. Within a few minutes they had reached town.

Joe pulled up to the police station and they got out of the truck. Carrying their rifles pointed toward the ground, they climbed the steps to the front entrance and, stopping before the door, banged on it. The trucks that had been following them pulled sedately up behind their truck, blocking any possible retreat. As Joe and Robbie turned to face the pickups, Bart stepped out of his truck’s cab and stood waiting, legs spread apart. He was not holding a weapon.

The police chief opened the door to his office and stepped out. He had a pistol in his hand, but was walking confidently, in charge of the situation. Almost casually, he pointed the pistol at Joe. “Are these the fellows you told me about, Bart?”

“Yes, Uncle. They’re the ones that threatened to kill me for no reason.” Bart’s face took on a smug smile.

Joe felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He looked back at the police chief. “Uncle?”

“Yes, that’s my nephew,” the chief said, not lowering his gun. “I did warn you not to cause any trouble. Now kindly drop your rifles and raise your hands above your heads.”

Carefully, Joe and Robbie set their rifles against the wall and raised their hands. Robbie looked at Joe with a “What the hell have you gotten us into?” look that needed no explanation. Hands in the air, Robbie was first through the door when the police chief waved them inside. Joe followed. Once inside, the chief told them to empty their pockets onto the top of the desk. Still holding the gun on them he asked Bart to pat them down. Robbie was becoming visibly angry.

The chief waved them to keep going toward the back of the building. Through the doorway, Robbie was the first to see the iron bars and the tiny cells. “Fuck!” Joe remained silent and outwardly calm.

The chief waved his gun toward the far cell and told Robbie, “Open the cell door and mosey on in.” Robbie entered first followed by Joe. The chief slammed the cell door shut behind them and locked it with a big old key on a key ring that hung on a wall peg.

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