Killer Geezer by T Jackson King

Author:T Jackson King
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781072221937
Publisher: T. Jackson King
Published: 2019-06-05T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The first bullet hit me in the ribs. The second bullet bounced off my barrier field. The third through seventh bullets bounced up into the sky as I thought them upward, giving thanks the second bullet had hit a tree lying in the front yard of the home I was walking past as I headed for my place on Calle Corvo. I’d just turned down Corvo, looking forward to seeing Pancho, counting the money in the suitcase and planning for tonight when a screech of tires had sounded behind me, then the first bullet hit me as my psychic senses brought me the mental image of four black tornados inside a speeding sedan that now roared past me. I felt to my knees, one hand going to my left ribs, where blood now soaked through my t-shirt and hoodie. Pain hit me sharply. My heart beat fast. My mind moved faster.

My normal sight view of the sedan showed four gangbangers dressed in blue neckerchiefs or t-shirts, black tattoos covering their necks and arms, and one gangbanger’s face. The front passenger guy was on my side of the car. He held a rifle that he now pulled in since it had stopped firing. A .22 rifle, part of me noted. A deadly scowl filled his face. Beyond him the driver grunted something at him. I also saw the faces of two bangers in the back seat, both of whom aimed pistols at me from the open rear window of the sedan. A Honda CR-V, late model, my brain saw in a blur. The imminent threat of more bullets coming at me put me beyond rage at the drive-by shooting.

“Bastard!” screamed the rifle holder as he shook his rifle, which had now jammed, thanks to my lightspeed thoughts. “No one wears blue except for us Surenos 13! Try being famous with bullet holes in you!”

The sedan was full of gangbangers from the Airport Road gang on the south side of Santa Fe. And the backseaters clearly meant to kill me. With barely a thought I melted the firing pins of their five-chambered .38 revolvers. The rear gangbangers cussed loudly when the pistols didn’t fire. Then I saw past them and noticed a large oak tree lying to the left of the driver, toward where Corvo dead ended into Acequia Madre street. It was over two feet thick and 30 feet high. Green leaves covered its thick, gnarled branches. With a thought I melted the sensors in the front airbag units. Then I visualized a giant wind pushing the car off the road and toward the tree. And I added a levitation push to the rear of the sedan so it sped up to 70 miles an hour. Far beyond the 25 mph speed posted for my residential neighborhood.

“Wham! Crunch!”

The sound of the front end of the Honda impacting on the thick trunk of the oak came to me like a blasting horn. Even though the sedan was now 300 feet from me, still, I heard everything with my greatly improved normal senses.

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