Twisted Endings 3: Children of Blood by Timothy D. McLendon

Author:Timothy D. McLendon [McLendon, Timothy D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Goodreads: 22885934
Publisher: Timothy D. McLendon
Published: 2014-08-08T07:00:00+00:00

Shoot To Live

THE WIND cools my arm as I cruise down Main Street in my 4 seat Miata with the top up and windows down. The whooshing sound it makes behind me is like the white noise from a broken TV. The grass in the median is full of beer cans, cigarette butts, and colorful weed flowers. The late evening air is calm and comforting.

“Turn here!” Richie shouts from the passenger seat. He’s pumping his handgun towards First Street.

Jeeters, O’Brien, and Baxter are crammed in the back seat. I’d roll the windows up but one of them shit their pants. My money’s on O’Brien.

The Miata whines as it turns at 80 miles an hour. I’m expecting it to flip over. O’Brien must be weighing it down with his dirty diaper.

“Where the fuck are we going?” Jeeters screams at Richie. I know it doesn’t matter. We’ll be dead before we get there.

“Just keep driving,” Richie says to me. “We’re almost—”

There’s a bang and one of the rear tires blows. The car is skidding, spinning, and I can barely hold on to the steering wheel. That diaper won’t hold the car down this time.

The car flips over and crashes on Richie’s side. It’s scraping against the pavement. Sparks are flying all around me.

And now nothing. Everything has stopped. I don’t see anything. I don’t hear anything. Is this it? Have I become one with the ether?

Sirens are blaring all around me now. Bright lights flood my cornea.

“Shit.”

I kick my door open. I’m almost out but I reach for Richie and pull him out with me. I see the guys in the back seat are struggling to get out too.

I hear gunfire.

All five of us are out and we’re crouching behind the car. The cops can’t see us. It’s only one cop car, but I know more are coming. A lot more.

There’s not much time to make a decision. Richie looks at me and points to the house on our left. It’s a modern brick home. The right size for a family of three and a poodle.

Now Richie is pointing at Baxter, our best shooter. “Get ready.” Richie motions to me, O’Brien, Jeeters, and himself. He’s imitating his fingers moving like legs toward the house.

Baxter nods and cocks his gun.

I put an open palm in the air and lower my fingers one at a time.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Baxter stands and fires hot lead at the cops.

The rest of us high tail it for the house.

I turn the front door knob. It opens.

People are too trusting.

Richie, Jeeters, and O’Brien are shooting at the cops now. I see Baxter racing toward us. I join in the shooting.

Baxter reaches us and we scurry inside. I lock the door when I close it.

Deadbolt, too.

I bend over and try to breathe. An hour ago I was watching the Packer’s game on TV. God I hope they won. Now I’m running from bullets and trying to make sense out of what happened. We were supposed to teach the cop a lesson — rough him up a little.

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