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Authors: F. Paul Wilson
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one thing he could not afford to do was the expected.
"You lunched?" the kid said. "That what wrong with you? That what make you think you get away with this shit?"
Jack's mind raced as his eyes fixed on the snub-nose revolverlooked like a custom job, nickel plated with curlicue engravings all over it. A pretty piece, despite the fact that its muzzle was pointed at Jack's face.
"Hey-hey-hey," Jack said in a frantic voice that wasn't completely put on. He thrust his hands out in front of him, money and all, as if to hold them off. "No need for violence!"
"Yeah?" said Knitcap through his teeth. He stepped closer and Jack raised his hands over his head. "You think I like chasin' you 'bama ass around?"
"I won fair and square!"
"That ain't the way we play." He stuck the point of his knife against Jack's throat. "Maybe we just cut your thumbs off so this never be a problem again."
"Or maybe I just one-eighty-seven you," the slide said, pushing the pistol closer to Jack's face. "Bust one in you face so you don't even think about trying this shit again!"
The revolver was so close now that Jack could see the tips of the bullets in its cylinder. His stomach gave a twist when he recognized the little posts in the center of the jacketed hollow points: Hydra-Shoks. He had a nightmare flash of what would happen if he took one of those in the face as threatenedhe watched the rim of the hollow nose peel back from that central post into a wide-winged lead butterfly, saw it flutter though his brain, bouncing off the inner walls of his skull, pureeing the contents.
Think-think-think! Where's the hammer? Down. Good. If and when the kid fired, the trigger would need a double-action pull ... just a teeny bit more pressure to get off the shot. Wasn't much, but every little bit helped.
A little closer ... Jack had to bring that pistol just a little closer ...
Very aware of the blade point just to the left of his voice box, he nodded carefully at the sideways pistol. "Uh, I assume you know that's not the recommended way to hold a pistol."
"What?" the slide said, his eyes widening. " What ?"
"I said"
"I know what you said. And now I know you fuckin' lunched! I hold a gun in you face and you tell me I'm holding it wrong ?" He glanced at Knitcap. "Ay yo triphe miss his medication today or somethin'?"
"No," Jack said. "It's just that it's not a secure grip."
The slide stepped closer, rage lighting in his eyes as he yanked back the hammer. But he didn't change his griphe wasn't going to let anyone tell him how to hold his gun. Stylin' to the end.
"Don't you be tellin' me"
"Here!" Jack cried in a high, terrified voice, releasing the bills he held over his head and scattering them into the air. "Take the money!"
In the instant their attention shifted to the money, Jack batted Knitcap's knife away with his left hand while whipping his right hand down at the slide's pistol. He caught the stubby barrel and the trigger guard, ramming the pistol back and down as he twisted. The weapon tore free and Jack switched it to his left hand.
And pointed itright side upat Knitcap just in time to abort a backhand slash at Jack's face with the knife.
"Uh-uh."
Knitcap froze. The slide looked down at his empty hand, then back at his pistol in Jack's, his expression a study in shock and confusion.
"Oh, fuck!" said Knitcap and turned to run.
"Don't want to shoot you in the back," Jack said, flipping the pistol to his right hand, "but I will." He touched a wet, stinging spot on his throat ... His fingers came away bloody. "Especially after you cut me. Dammit!"
Knitcap mustered a sick sounding, "Shit!" as he dropped his knife. He looked at Jack's throat. "It's only a scratch, man."
Jack stepped out of the recess to where he could better cover both men.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a jogger approach the underpass, realize what was going down, make a quick U-turn, and sprint away.
Knitcap glanced angrily at the slide. "How the fuck
"You lunched?" the kid said. "That what wrong with you? That what make you think you get away with this shit?"
Jack's mind raced as his eyes fixed on the snub-nose revolverlooked like a custom job, nickel plated with curlicue engravings all over it. A pretty piece, despite the fact that its muzzle was pointed at Jack's face.
"Hey-hey-hey," Jack said in a frantic voice that wasn't completely put on. He thrust his hands out in front of him, money and all, as if to hold them off. "No need for violence!"
"Yeah?" said Knitcap through his teeth. He stepped closer and Jack raised his hands over his head. "You think I like chasin' you 'bama ass around?"
"I won fair and square!"
"That ain't the way we play." He stuck the point of his knife against Jack's throat. "Maybe we just cut your thumbs off so this never be a problem again."
"Or maybe I just one-eighty-seven you," the slide said, pushing the pistol closer to Jack's face. "Bust one in you face so you don't even think about trying this shit again!"
The revolver was so close now that Jack could see the tips of the bullets in its cylinder. His stomach gave a twist when he recognized the little posts in the center of the jacketed hollow points: Hydra-Shoks. He had a nightmare flash of what would happen if he took one of those in the face as threatenedhe watched the rim of the hollow nose peel back from that central post into a wide-winged lead butterfly, saw it flutter though his brain, bouncing off the inner walls of his skull, pureeing the contents.
Think-think-think! Where's the hammer? Down. Good. If and when the kid fired, the trigger would need a double-action pull ... just a teeny bit more pressure to get off the shot. Wasn't much, but every little bit helped.
A little closer ... Jack had to bring that pistol just a little closer ...
Very aware of the blade point just to the left of his voice box, he nodded carefully at the sideways pistol. "Uh, I assume you know that's not the recommended way to hold a pistol."
"What?" the slide said, his eyes widening. " What ?"
"I said"
"I know what you said. And now I know you fuckin' lunched! I hold a gun in you face and you tell me I'm holding it wrong ?" He glanced at Knitcap. "Ay yo triphe miss his medication today or somethin'?"
"No," Jack said. "It's just that it's not a secure grip."
The slide stepped closer, rage lighting in his eyes as he yanked back the hammer. But he didn't change his griphe wasn't going to let anyone tell him how to hold his gun. Stylin' to the end.
"Don't you be tellin' me"
"Here!" Jack cried in a high, terrified voice, releasing the bills he held over his head and scattering them into the air. "Take the money!"
In the instant their attention shifted to the money, Jack batted Knitcap's knife away with his left hand while whipping his right hand down at the slide's pistol. He caught the stubby barrel and the trigger guard, ramming the pistol back and down as he twisted. The weapon tore free and Jack switched it to his left hand.
And pointed itright side upat Knitcap just in time to abort a backhand slash at Jack's face with the knife.
"Uh-uh."
Knitcap froze. The slide looked down at his empty hand, then back at his pistol in Jack's, his expression a study in shock and confusion.
"Oh, fuck!" said Knitcap and turned to run.
"Don't want to shoot you in the back," Jack said, flipping the pistol to his right hand, "but I will." He touched a wet, stinging spot on his throat ... His fingers came away bloody. "Especially after you cut me. Dammit!"
Knitcap mustered a sick sounding, "Shit!" as he dropped his knife. He looked at Jack's throat. "It's only a scratch, man."
Jack stepped out of the recess to where he could better cover both men.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a jogger approach the underpass, realize what was going down, make a quick U-turn, and sprint away.
Knitcap glanced angrily at the slide. "How the fuck
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