Read Online Ashton Memorial by Kody Boye, Robert R. Best, Laura Best, Deedee Davies - Free Book Online
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rifle.
“What?” said Chuck, seeing
the gun and stopping. “Don't shoot! I'm still alive. I just need
your car.”
He resumed limp-running toward them. Angie
took a step back. Park cocked the rifle.
“Well, that ain't fucking
going to happen,” said Park. “Sorry buddy.”
“No!” yelled Chuck,
stopping and whipping his cap off in frustration. “You have to! I
have to get to my fiancé! You don't understand!” He had a wild look
that made Angie nervous.
“We understand,” she said,
holding up her hands in a gesture she hoped would stop him from
coming any farther. “There's nothing we can do. We can't give you
our car.”
Park stepped forward, still
aiming the rifle. “So turn the fuck back, buddy. I've seen a lot
scarier than you in the last 24 hours and I'm getting to my fucking
girls!”
Chuck stopped, looking
honestly, tragically confused. Angie noticed blood creeping from
his hairline. Shit, she thought. He's
hurt . She considered calling an ambulance,
but knew full well none would come. Not today.
“But...” Chuck
started.
“Hey!” came a voice from
behind Chuck. “Asshole!” Chuck turned to look. Angie and Park
looked past him. The driver's door on the wrecked car was open. An
older man, Angie guessed maybe in his fifties or sixties, climbed
out. His arm was crooked and bleeding. Behind him an older woman
climbed from the passenger seat. “Norman?” she called.
“Stay in the car, Martha!”
yelled the older man, presumably Norman. Martha limped to the back
seat. A much older woman sat limply there.
“Sir?” said Angie. “Are you
okay? We saw the accident.”
“How nice for you,” said
Norman, walking toward them. “Now give me your fucking car!” Angie
noticed something in his good hand, swinging with him as he walked.
A crowbar.
“This is nuts,” said Park,
slinging the rifle over his shoulder and holding up his hands. “You
both have your little wreck party, we're going.” He turned to
Angie. “Aren't we?”
She looked at her car, at
the kids, then at Chuck and the approaching Norman. She sighed.
“Yeah.”
They both turned and moved toward the
car.
“Hey!” said Norman from
behind them. “Where the fuck do you think you're going?”
Angie saw something hit Park in the back. It
was shiny and fell to the ground with a jingling sound. She and
Park stopped.
Park looked to the ground,
then at Norman. “Did you just throw your fucking keys, old
man?”
“You're giving me your
fucking car, hillbilly!” said Norman, still coming.
Chuck blinked at Norman.
“Does your car work?”
“You shut up,” said Norman,
pointing at Chuck as he walked past him. “This is your fault!” Then
he pointed at Angie and Park. “And you! I'm taking your car! My
mother has to get to her heart doctor in Ashton.”
“Listen, sir,” said Angie,
growing increasingly nervous with each step the man took. “Maybe we
can give you and your family a ride.”
“I never said anything
about sharing, redneck bitch! I said you were giving me your
fucking car!”
Angie heard a door on her
car open. She turned and saw Maylee climb from the back seat.
“Mom?” said Maylee.
“Get back in the car,
Maylee!” said Angie, turning back to the older man.
“No, get out of the car!”
said Norman, still swinging the crowbar with each step. “Everybody
out of the car!”
“Please!” said Chuck,
reaching out and grabbing Norman's shoulder. Norman wrenched
away.
“Keep your fucking hands off me!” he yelled,
swinging the crowbar at Chuck. It connected with Chuck's chest. A
loud sharp “crack” rang out. Chuck staggered back, blinking in
surprise. Norman panted.
Chuck reached up to his chest. He opened his
mouth to speak and blood leaked out. He swayed, then fell backward
and was still.
“Great!” yelled Norman
crazily. “Just great. Now he's dead and they'll blame
me!”
Angie and Park took slow
steps backward. Toward the car. Park slid the rifle strap from his
shoulder. “I
“What?” said Chuck, seeing
the gun and stopping. “Don't shoot! I'm still alive. I just need
your car.”
He resumed limp-running toward them. Angie
took a step back. Park cocked the rifle.
“Well, that ain't fucking
going to happen,” said Park. “Sorry buddy.”
“No!” yelled Chuck,
stopping and whipping his cap off in frustration. “You have to! I
have to get to my fiancé! You don't understand!” He had a wild look
that made Angie nervous.
“We understand,” she said,
holding up her hands in a gesture she hoped would stop him from
coming any farther. “There's nothing we can do. We can't give you
our car.”
Park stepped forward, still
aiming the rifle. “So turn the fuck back, buddy. I've seen a lot
scarier than you in the last 24 hours and I'm getting to my fucking
girls!”
Chuck stopped, looking
honestly, tragically confused. Angie noticed blood creeping from
his hairline. Shit, she thought. He's
hurt . She considered calling an ambulance,
but knew full well none would come. Not today.
“But...” Chuck
started.
“Hey!” came a voice from
behind Chuck. “Asshole!” Chuck turned to look. Angie and Park
looked past him. The driver's door on the wrecked car was open. An
older man, Angie guessed maybe in his fifties or sixties, climbed
out. His arm was crooked and bleeding. Behind him an older woman
climbed from the passenger seat. “Norman?” she called.
“Stay in the car, Martha!”
yelled the older man, presumably Norman. Martha limped to the back
seat. A much older woman sat limply there.
“Sir?” said Angie. “Are you
okay? We saw the accident.”
“How nice for you,” said
Norman, walking toward them. “Now give me your fucking car!” Angie
noticed something in his good hand, swinging with him as he walked.
A crowbar.
“This is nuts,” said Park,
slinging the rifle over his shoulder and holding up his hands. “You
both have your little wreck party, we're going.” He turned to
Angie. “Aren't we?”
She looked at her car, at
the kids, then at Chuck and the approaching Norman. She sighed.
“Yeah.”
They both turned and moved toward the
car.
“Hey!” said Norman from
behind them. “Where the fuck do you think you're going?”
Angie saw something hit Park in the back. It
was shiny and fell to the ground with a jingling sound. She and
Park stopped.
Park looked to the ground,
then at Norman. “Did you just throw your fucking keys, old
man?”
“You're giving me your
fucking car, hillbilly!” said Norman, still coming.
Chuck blinked at Norman.
“Does your car work?”
“You shut up,” said Norman,
pointing at Chuck as he walked past him. “This is your fault!” Then
he pointed at Angie and Park. “And you! I'm taking your car! My
mother has to get to her heart doctor in Ashton.”
“Listen, sir,” said Angie,
growing increasingly nervous with each step the man took. “Maybe we
can give you and your family a ride.”
“I never said anything
about sharing, redneck bitch! I said you were giving me your
fucking car!”
Angie heard a door on her
car open. She turned and saw Maylee climb from the back seat.
“Mom?” said Maylee.
“Get back in the car,
Maylee!” said Angie, turning back to the older man.
“No, get out of the car!”
said Norman, still swinging the crowbar with each step. “Everybody
out of the car!”
“Please!” said Chuck,
reaching out and grabbing Norman's shoulder. Norman wrenched
away.
“Keep your fucking hands off me!” he yelled,
swinging the crowbar at Chuck. It connected with Chuck's chest. A
loud sharp “crack” rang out. Chuck staggered back, blinking in
surprise. Norman panted.
Chuck reached up to his chest. He opened his
mouth to speak and blood leaked out. He swayed, then fell backward
and was still.
“Great!” yelled Norman
crazily. “Just great. Now he's dead and they'll blame
me!”
Angie and Park took slow
steps backward. Toward the car. Park slid the rifle strap from his
shoulder. “I
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