Read Online Jake's Wake by John Skipp Cody Goodfellow - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John Skipp Cody Goodfellow
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as to night had clearly demonstrated, there was a first time for everything.
And then there were his E-Girls: the Big Three, together again for the first time ever. At least insofar as he knew.
He’d expected Esther to be draped around Eddie, although he’d half hoped he might catch them in bed.
But seeing them all together now—screaming and shrinking back, mostly in pairs—made him feel like he’d died and gone to, well,
here.
Which, at the moment, felt an awful lot like heaven.
That was when he started to laugh, and once he started, it was impossible to stop. He looked at them, each of them, deep in the eye. And the deeper he looked, the funnier it got.
And just when it couldn’t get any funnier, Jasper made his move.
Jasper wasn’t an idiot. What he wanted, more than anything, was to run.
But here he was, the first line of defense, and he had no fucking choice. Surrounded by screams, he turned his own into a roar of rage.
Then he winged his glass of scotch straight at Jake’s head, an overhand pitch that missed by an inch, but made Jake flinch, and that was a start.
Bible Boy’s ginger ale was still on the coffee table. He thought about throwing it, went
fuck that
, then just grabbed the coffee table and threw it, instead.
“COME ON!” he bellowed, marshaling the troops, as Jake backed up, raised his arms defensively. The table fell short, but the opening was there.
Jasper charged, headfirst.
The goal was to knock his ass down. If he got him down, he could pound his face in, grab his skull and smash it flat on the pavement.
Once down, the others might join in, if Jasper needed help pinning the fucker. They could kick him, pound him, take him apart, do what ever it took to make this stop.
He thought all this in the milliseconds before the crown of his head collided with Jake’s belly: making Jake whoof and half double up, pile-driving him back toward the door.
Jasper’s legs pushed forward with all their might, while his hands went down to grab Jake behind the knees, prepare to buckle them out.
Then Jake threw an uppercut that punched him in the chest.
Punched straight through his chest.
And out the other side.
It all happened so fast that he could feel his own lung flapping out the back of his jacket, almost before the blow to his chest fully registered. He screamed, and it came out in liquid form: a gush of blood from the mouth that doused Jake’s crotch and pants legs, like a period gone horribly wrong.
He felt himself hoisted upward, on the pivot of the arm that impaled him. His eyes shuddered into focus just in time to meet Jake’s gaze.
Jake looked almost as surprised as he did, although a whole lot happier about it. His death, after all, was over.
But Jasper’s had just begun.
The rest of Esther’s little garden party stampeded out the back door in a tangle-legged knot. But they all screeched to a halt when a crack of thunder split the night and a dazzling flash blinded them.
Or maybe it was Gray’s gun, going off one second later. Like an echo, doing much the same thing.
Evangeline skidded out of her high heels and almost deep throated the hot barrel of Gray’s .45. She recoiled and took a startled step back into the herd.
“You wanna get back in the house now,” he informed them, smoke curling from the Camel caught between his grinning lips. “Jake won’t like it if I blow your tits off. But I’m sure he’ll understand.”
He stepped forward, herding them, and they went back easy. Just the way that God intended. There were six of them, but he’d popped a fresh clip in, so bullets were definitely not an issue.
And the people who knew him clearly knew that he meant business. And the people who didn’t had gotten the hint.
“Cocksucker,”
Evangeline hissed: almost a whimper, almost a curse.
“Uh-huh. Do tell.”
“You killed those people to night…”
“Maybe one or two. Let’s just say I’m already warmed up. And you know what else? I don’t think
And then there were his E-Girls: the Big Three, together again for the first time ever. At least insofar as he knew.
He’d expected Esther to be draped around Eddie, although he’d half hoped he might catch them in bed.
But seeing them all together now—screaming and shrinking back, mostly in pairs—made him feel like he’d died and gone to, well,
here.
Which, at the moment, felt an awful lot like heaven.
That was when he started to laugh, and once he started, it was impossible to stop. He looked at them, each of them, deep in the eye. And the deeper he looked, the funnier it got.
And just when it couldn’t get any funnier, Jasper made his move.
Jasper wasn’t an idiot. What he wanted, more than anything, was to run.
But here he was, the first line of defense, and he had no fucking choice. Surrounded by screams, he turned his own into a roar of rage.
Then he winged his glass of scotch straight at Jake’s head, an overhand pitch that missed by an inch, but made Jake flinch, and that was a start.
Bible Boy’s ginger ale was still on the coffee table. He thought about throwing it, went
fuck that
, then just grabbed the coffee table and threw it, instead.
“COME ON!” he bellowed, marshaling the troops, as Jake backed up, raised his arms defensively. The table fell short, but the opening was there.
Jasper charged, headfirst.
The goal was to knock his ass down. If he got him down, he could pound his face in, grab his skull and smash it flat on the pavement.
Once down, the others might join in, if Jasper needed help pinning the fucker. They could kick him, pound him, take him apart, do what ever it took to make this stop.
He thought all this in the milliseconds before the crown of his head collided with Jake’s belly: making Jake whoof and half double up, pile-driving him back toward the door.
Jasper’s legs pushed forward with all their might, while his hands went down to grab Jake behind the knees, prepare to buckle them out.
Then Jake threw an uppercut that punched him in the chest.
Punched straight through his chest.
And out the other side.
It all happened so fast that he could feel his own lung flapping out the back of his jacket, almost before the blow to his chest fully registered. He screamed, and it came out in liquid form: a gush of blood from the mouth that doused Jake’s crotch and pants legs, like a period gone horribly wrong.
He felt himself hoisted upward, on the pivot of the arm that impaled him. His eyes shuddered into focus just in time to meet Jake’s gaze.
Jake looked almost as surprised as he did, although a whole lot happier about it. His death, after all, was over.
But Jasper’s had just begun.
The rest of Esther’s little garden party stampeded out the back door in a tangle-legged knot. But they all screeched to a halt when a crack of thunder split the night and a dazzling flash blinded them.
Or maybe it was Gray’s gun, going off one second later. Like an echo, doing much the same thing.
Evangeline skidded out of her high heels and almost deep throated the hot barrel of Gray’s .45. She recoiled and took a startled step back into the herd.
“You wanna get back in the house now,” he informed them, smoke curling from the Camel caught between his grinning lips. “Jake won’t like it if I blow your tits off. But I’m sure he’ll understand.”
He stepped forward, herding them, and they went back easy. Just the way that God intended. There were six of them, but he’d popped a fresh clip in, so bullets were definitely not an issue.
And the people who knew him clearly knew that he meant business. And the people who didn’t had gotten the hint.
“Cocksucker,”
Evangeline hissed: almost a whimper, almost a curse.
“Uh-huh. Do tell.”
“You killed those people to night…”
“Maybe one or two. Let’s just say I’m already warmed up. And you know what else? I don’t think
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