Read Online Deep Winter by Samuel W. Gailey - Free Book Online

scumbag.”
    Sokowski pushed himself forward and stood on unsteady feet. “And you’re a stupid fucking whore.” He pressed his hand right intothe middle of her face and shoved hard—she stumbled through the crowd, knocking loose beers and cigarettes—slamming her against the trailer wall. “How do you like that, bitch?”
    Sokowski staggered forward and reached down toward her when a fist collided with the side of his jaw. The punch was delivered hard. Sokowski’s head snapped back. He lost his balance and fell onto the make-out couple on the couch. He wiped a trickle of blood from a crack in his lip and squinted up.
    Otis stood over him, hard bloodshot eyes glaring at him.
    â€œYou just made a big fuckin’ mistake,” Sokowski slurred.
    â€œBring it on, you piece of shit.”
    Sokowski pushed himself off the couple, knocking their beers to the floor in the process, but he didn’t give a damn. His momentum drove his two hundred pounds forward fast and out of control. He took a slow, clumsy swing at Otis, but Otis dodged it easily and slammed him against the wall. The wood paneling cracked and splintered, and Sokowski slipped down the wall and slumped to the floor in a heap. He felt all eyes on him—the party grew hushed to watch the night’s newest entertainment.
    â€œWhy don’t you get your drunk ass the fuck out of here?” Otis hissed. The blonde had her hand on his shoulder and huddled safely behind her man.
    â€œFine.” Sokowski pushed himself up the wall and struggled to keep his balance. He closed one eye to stop the double vision.
    â€œThat’s what I thought. You’re nothing but talk.”
    Sokowski’s one open eye stopped on the gun rack beside him. He didn’t give it a second thought. He reached over and grabbed the .30-06 and in the same motion swung the butt of the gun and cracked it against the side of Otis’s head. The sound of wood against skull popped through the air. Otis’s camouflage cap flew off,and he dropped to the floor, clutching at a growing welt on his greasy head.
    Screams from the women filled the small space. Someone bumped into the stereo, and the needle scratched off the vinyl and left the trailer in silence. All the partygoers, wide-eyed and not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, backed away from the fight and headed for the door.
    Sokowski gripped the rifle and pressed the tip of the cold steel barrel to Otis’s temple. “You got anything else to say, motherfucker?” Spittle flew from his lips and clung to thick whiskers.
    Otis covered his head with his hands, stared down at the floor, mumbled, “No.”
    â€œI can’t hear you, bitch.” Sokowski clicked off the rifle’s safety.
    As most of the partiers pushed and shoved their way out the front door, Carl sat at the kitchen table, big eyes barely blinking, watching his friend with a growing sense of dread. The fat woman on his lap had long deserted him. Carl’s mouth hung open, and he shook his head back and forth slowly. He started to stand, then dropped down into the chair again.
    Sokowski pressed the rifle barrel harder into the soft flesh of Otis’s temple and smiled at the man’s trembling body. He could see and smell the man’s fear and liked the power it gave him.
    Teddie appeared in the living room, tucking in his shirt—his pants were half zipped up, and his belt hung open. At the sight of Sokowski wielding the rifle, his face drained of color and he had to lick at his dry lips just so he could talk. “Aww, shit.”
    The blonde crouched beside Otis and started to cry. Black mascara leaking trails down her cheeks and over trembling red lips.
    â€œYou best get the fuck out, bitch. Unless you want to get splattered with this fuck’s brain,” Sokowski said.
    She peered up at him, eyes frozen wide. She stood slow and careful and inched away from Otis, leaving him