Read Online Forget The Zombies (Book 2): Forget Texas by R.J. Spears - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R.J. Spears
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out on me.
“So, let me try this again, how many people you have on that truck?”
“Twelve including me.”
“What about the two or three that made a run for it?”
“Listen,” I said raising a hand in the air, “I really don’t know what’s going on. We saw your roadblock, so we stopped. You blasted us with your spotlight, things happened pretty fast. I really don’t know anything about people running, but they could have.”
“How many men do you have?” He asked.
“You taking a census?” I asked.
He squinted at me and asked, “You want a world of hurt to come down on you?” Then he nodded at someone behind me and something hard and metal cracked the on the side of the head. A small fireworks display went off inside my head and I stumbled sideways from the blow.
“I’m not asking again. How many abled bodied men do you have on that truck?”
I put a hand to where the blow impacted and felt something warm and wet. This situation was escalating too fast and was in real jeopardy of spinning out of control. We should have made a run for it.
“If I knew for sure who jumped off and ran, I could give you a better count. We have four other men besides me. We have several kids and some women.”
“Women,” he said, tilting his head and a smile formed at the corners of his mouth.
We definitely should have made a run for it.
“You need to tell your people to throw out their guns and come down the roads to us,” he said.
“Why should I do that?” I asked.
“Because we will shoot your ass and leave you dead in the road?”
“Aren’t you going to do that anyway?”
The cop chuckled and that transitioned in a belly laugh. The men around him took a moment, but they got caught up in it, too and the laughter spread among them. The problem was that there was nothing mirthful about it. I only sensed malice.
The laughter stopped abruptly and before I knew it, there was a bullhorn and the barrel of a gun in my face.
“Tell them to throw out their guns or I’ll blow your head off,” the cop said and the time for laughing was over.
I sort of felt like I was in a Lady or the Tiger scenario, only both doors led to the tiger. One kept me alive for a small, but only for a short period of time. The other got me and my friends killed most likely and who knew what they’d do to our women before they were killed.
The cop pushed the bullhorn into my face, striking my nose hard. I got to enjoy another lightshow in my head.
“Clock’s ticking and it’s ticking fast,” the cop said. “You have ten clicks before I shoot you and order my men to start shooting at the truck.
I felt the seconds ticking away and had already decided that somewhere around eight clicks I was going to kick this guy in the balls. It wouldn’t be a blaze of glory, but maybe a little ember of spite. I knew, of course, that meant my life expectancy was probably measured in seconds. Like two more seconds, but there was no way that I was giving up my friends.
I started tensing my muscles for the kick when one of the men behind me spoke up,” Hey Harley, what are those lights just off the road up there?”
The clock stopped ticking. Timeout was called. At least, for a few moments.
I peeked in the direction of the truck and then off to both sides of the road. A series of small yellow glowing dots shined in the darkness at irregular intervals off to the left side of the road. It took me a good twenty seconds before I realized what they were. I probably would gotten it in ten, but I had just taken two pretty good blows to the head in the last few minutes.
I reached up and grabbed the bullhorn. Because he was distracted by looking at the glowing dots, the cop was somewhat shocked by my movements. I half expected him to shoot me, but his reaction time was bit slow.
“Hey,” I shouted into the bullhorn, “don’t shoot right away because it’s as safe as the lake here.” After I said it, I knew how stupid it sounded and was nowhere as subtle a cue as I
“So, let me try this again, how many people you have on that truck?”
“Twelve including me.”
“What about the two or three that made a run for it?”
“Listen,” I said raising a hand in the air, “I really don’t know what’s going on. We saw your roadblock, so we stopped. You blasted us with your spotlight, things happened pretty fast. I really don’t know anything about people running, but they could have.”
“How many men do you have?” He asked.
“You taking a census?” I asked.
He squinted at me and asked, “You want a world of hurt to come down on you?” Then he nodded at someone behind me and something hard and metal cracked the on the side of the head. A small fireworks display went off inside my head and I stumbled sideways from the blow.
“I’m not asking again. How many abled bodied men do you have on that truck?”
I put a hand to where the blow impacted and felt something warm and wet. This situation was escalating too fast and was in real jeopardy of spinning out of control. We should have made a run for it.
“If I knew for sure who jumped off and ran, I could give you a better count. We have four other men besides me. We have several kids and some women.”
“Women,” he said, tilting his head and a smile formed at the corners of his mouth.
We definitely should have made a run for it.
“You need to tell your people to throw out their guns and come down the roads to us,” he said.
“Why should I do that?” I asked.
“Because we will shoot your ass and leave you dead in the road?”
“Aren’t you going to do that anyway?”
The cop chuckled and that transitioned in a belly laugh. The men around him took a moment, but they got caught up in it, too and the laughter spread among them. The problem was that there was nothing mirthful about it. I only sensed malice.
The laughter stopped abruptly and before I knew it, there was a bullhorn and the barrel of a gun in my face.
“Tell them to throw out their guns or I’ll blow your head off,” the cop said and the time for laughing was over.
I sort of felt like I was in a Lady or the Tiger scenario, only both doors led to the tiger. One kept me alive for a small, but only for a short period of time. The other got me and my friends killed most likely and who knew what they’d do to our women before they were killed.
The cop pushed the bullhorn into my face, striking my nose hard. I got to enjoy another lightshow in my head.
“Clock’s ticking and it’s ticking fast,” the cop said. “You have ten clicks before I shoot you and order my men to start shooting at the truck.
I felt the seconds ticking away and had already decided that somewhere around eight clicks I was going to kick this guy in the balls. It wouldn’t be a blaze of glory, but maybe a little ember of spite. I knew, of course, that meant my life expectancy was probably measured in seconds. Like two more seconds, but there was no way that I was giving up my friends.
I started tensing my muscles for the kick when one of the men behind me spoke up,” Hey Harley, what are those lights just off the road up there?”
The clock stopped ticking. Timeout was called. At least, for a few moments.
I peeked in the direction of the truck and then off to both sides of the road. A series of small yellow glowing dots shined in the darkness at irregular intervals off to the left side of the road. It took me a good twenty seconds before I realized what they were. I probably would gotten it in ten, but I had just taken two pretty good blows to the head in the last few minutes.
I reached up and grabbed the bullhorn. Because he was distracted by looking at the glowing dots, the cop was somewhat shocked by my movements. I half expected him to shoot me, but his reaction time was bit slow.
“Hey,” I shouted into the bullhorn, “don’t shoot right away because it’s as safe as the lake here.” After I said it, I knew how stupid it sounded and was nowhere as subtle a cue as I
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