Close to Home - a Novella by Brian W. Smith

Author:Brian W. Smith [Smith, Brian W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Short Stories & Anthologies, Short Stories, United States, African American, Women's Fiction, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Contemporary Fiction, Single Authors
Amazon: B008663Q42
Published: 2012-05-24T04:00:00+00:00

The news helicopter seemed to appear from out of nowhere. It rose like the mighty Phoenix rising from the ashes, and hovered close enough to the bridge that Cole could have thrown a rock and hit it.

The sound of the propeller and the wind it generated was frightening. Vera had been threatening to jump for three hours, but the appearance of the metal bird made her grip the beam she’d been clinging to tighter.

Cole turned around and was surprised to find Captain Petigrew standing near along with several uniformed officers. They were directing traffic and installing what appeared to be a ten foot high partition, designed to obstruct the view of the spectators.

“You’re a good man Sergeant Glass!” Vera yelled, and then looked at Cole. She seemed calm, disturbingly calm. Her tone was one of admiration. Respect. “Any woman would be lucky to have a man like you.”

Vera inched her feet closer to the ledge. A gust of wind kissed her cheek and she raised her arms to shield her eyes from the dust and debris that was being kicked up.

Cole could see that she was distracted by the helicopter, and figured that this was his first and probably only chance to save her.

With cat like quickness, he moved towards her. He wasn’t close enough to reach up and grab Vera’s waist, but he could lay hands on her legs—and that’s exactly what he did.

Cole’s hands were the size of catcher’s mitts. His fingers extended from his palms like octopus tentacles. Short of bringing Shaquille O’Neal up there, the Lord couldn’t have chosen a more capable set of hands to take on such a daunting task.

Vera was banging on the beam and screaming uncontrollably. “I hate you Kendrick! I hate you for making me do this! I loved you!”

Cole could see she was no longer concerned about his position so he sprang forward and grabbed Vera’s legs. His fingers wrapped around that space just above her Achilles’ and just beneath her calf muscles. Vera’s body jerked and she dropped straight down—as if she was on a football field and been hit with an illegal chop block.

As she fell to her knees, her left hand released the cold steel for the first time since she’d gripped in the morning darkness more than three hours earlier. Her left hand landed on the ledge, but her right hand missed the surface. Vera’s entire upper torso was dangling over the side of the bridge. Cole managed to get leverage by lodging his hips up against the beam she stood on. Sensing that he was about to drop her, he adjusted his grip.

If Vera didn’t have a leg injury when she climbed up on that ledge, she would certainly have an injury, accompanied by deep bruises on her legs, if she should be fortunate to get down from there alive.

Cole wrapped his left arm around Vera’s shins and pulled backwards like a fisher trying to reel in a big catch on his line. As he struggled to pull her backwards, he used his right hand to grab around her waist.

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