The Wilding Probate: A Bucky McCrae Adventure by D.J. Butler

Author:D.J. Butler [Butler, D.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Immortal Works
Published: 2020-10-26T16:00:00+00:00

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I’d shot at a few targets in my life. Not a lot, but a few. But shooting a beer bottle or a paper cutout of Osama Bin Laden is a really different thing from shooting a live human being.

Michael Fellows jerked as I shot him. His body bounced up and back a bit with each bullet that hit, like a little dance.

Some of my shots missed—I was shooting with my left hand, after all, and maybe I was in shock, though at least I hadn’t lit up the joint—but several found their mark, and then Michael Fellows hit the ground.

“Evil!” I shouted.

No answer.

I would have tucked the Glock into my belt, but I was afraid if I tried I’d shoot myself. I was shaking like a freight train, and my thoughts were bolting in six directions at once, too. I forced myself to concentrate.

I knelt at Evil’s side. “Evil.” Setting the Glock down in a clump of grass, I felt under his nose; he was breathing. I prodded him. “Come on, Evil, wake up.”

I could see the bright pink flesh under his hair. Fellows must have hit him with the butt of his rifle, and the blow had just about scalped Evil. The blood trickling down onto Evil’s forehead was shockingly red.

I shook his shoulder. “Come on, Evil, it’s time to watch Daniel Day-Lewis and his perfect hair. The Last of the Mohicans. Come on, wake up.”

“Mrmerumph. Erumph,” Evil muttered into the dirt.

My heart jumped in my chest. “What’s that?”

Evil turned his head slightly, getting his mouth out of the dirt. “Now I know you’re desperate. You hate The Last of the Mohicans.”

“I don’t hate it,” I said.

“That’s a good thing.” Evil’s eyelids fluttered as if he were fighting sleep. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to get desperate.”

“Your plan worked,” I told him. “All you had to do was get me to witness a murder, and then get lost wandering around the Ups with a killer on my trail.”

“Simple as pie. My Evil plan.”

“I have to ask you something.” In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten. “And it’s kind of embarrassing.” I pushed Evil’s shoulder again. Until his eyes opened all the way, I worried about concussion. A hit to the head is a serious thing.

“There’s nothing wrong with a guy liking My Little Pony,” Evil said.

I laughed sharply, then caught myself, unsure whether he was joking. “Not that. It’s that…well, I may need help pulling up my pants.”

Evil wedged an arm under his cheek and pushed his face off the ground. He chuckled. “Well, that doesn’t embarrass me at all.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Tell you what. If it will help you be less embarrassed, I’ll let you pull my pants down before we start.” Evil pushed against the ground, and rolled slowly over onto his back. “Ow, ow, ow.” He covered both eyes with his hand.

“I respect your willingness to have a level playing field, anyway.”

“I’m all about fairness. For instance, you got shot, so I went and let an elephant run over my head.

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