sparks and grinding metal.
Kirk stood on the brakes, cranked the wheel to the right, and came to a skidding stop. The white mini van was stopped halfway on the curb to Kirks left, and there was white smoke boiling from the crunched hood. A tall dark woman stumbled from the van with a small cut on her cheek. Kirk noticed she was not dressed like a mini van driving soccer mom with a short black skirt and a white shirt but more like a sales woman about to visit a very rich client. The two car seats in the back said other wise and for a minute Kirk was drawn away from the scene that was unfolding in front of him.
The green caddy had come to a stop on its top and the back wheels still spun looking like a dog that was dreaming of running and even though it was asleep, pumped its legs onward still as if it was going somewhere. The road past the intersection and on all sides was what looked like a bad day at a NASCAR race or maybe a good day depending on what kind of fan you were. The mini van was one of many such accidents but Kirk was only interested in one at the moment. Kirk opened the door and stepped out taking his place behind the protection of the large Crown Vic's door. He had drawn his .45 but didn't remember when he had, was it when he was running or driving? It was not important now but he was sure after all this was over he would have a crap load of paperwork to do and a detail like that might be good to remember. Kirk could hear the whine and squealing of breaks as a semi truck full of frozen chicken locked up and jackknifed. He threw a glance over his shoulder, saw the semi turn over, and scraped the road clean like a huge snowplow. It stopped just shy of the end of what would be yet another mess made by yours truly.
"Gus? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Kirk said to himself. He could see movement through all the wreckage and Gus slowly crawled out from the smashed-up car, and hid behind the rear fender. Then without warning, Gus popped up with a handgun and opened fire, a bullet sliced through the door; hitting Kirk in the leg and sending a riveting heat through his body. Dropping to one knee from the impact of the bullet as it drilled into his flesh, Kirk fired back two shots that glanced off the rear fender where Gus's head was a few seconds before.
Kirk grimaced and looked down, seeing that the bullet had not hit an artery, and appeared to have gone clean through, he clenched his jaw and cursed. This was the time most cops would have waited for backup and nursed their wounds. However, Kirk Weston had what he liked to call a short fuse, and he was hopping mad.
"Okay, this is how you want to do this? Fine, just remember you called down the rain so don't gripe if you get wet!"
Kirk peered at the Caddy to see if Gus was up waiting for him to make an appearance and saw the little creep through the broken side window cowering like a whipped dog. Kirk shot at him so he would have more time and mustering all his strength, he jumped to his feet.
Kirk Weston ran ignoring the burning pain that ate at his leg and like a gunslinger, he held out his .45 out in front of him making a straight line for the overturned car. Gus jumped to his feet, looked into the wild eyes of Kirk
SWEET
DREAMS
59
Weston, and had a tinge of regret run through his mind. Only a crazy man would run across open ground gun drawn screaming like that. It unnerved Gus and he did what only a beaten man would do--he hesitated!
Kirk saw this flash of fear cross Gus's face and shot once hitting Gus in the right shoulder. Gus twitched and twisted around and fell backward landing on a bed of glass. Gus turned on his side as quick as he could to put a bullet into the pigs other leg, and when he looked through the glassless side windows of his mothers prize Cadillac, all he saw was the flash of a muzzle flare from the cop's gun.
Kirk saw Gus hit the ground and knew what he was planning on doing. He thinks he is going to put another slug in my other
Kirk stood on the brakes, cranked the wheel to the right, and came to a skidding stop. The white mini van was stopped halfway on the curb to Kirks left, and there was white smoke boiling from the crunched hood. A tall dark woman stumbled from the van with a small cut on her cheek. Kirk noticed she was not dressed like a mini van driving soccer mom with a short black skirt and a white shirt but more like a sales woman about to visit a very rich client. The two car seats in the back said other wise and for a minute Kirk was drawn away from the scene that was unfolding in front of him.
The green caddy had come to a stop on its top and the back wheels still spun looking like a dog that was dreaming of running and even though it was asleep, pumped its legs onward still as if it was going somewhere. The road past the intersection and on all sides was what looked like a bad day at a NASCAR race or maybe a good day depending on what kind of fan you were. The mini van was one of many such accidents but Kirk was only interested in one at the moment. Kirk opened the door and stepped out taking his place behind the protection of the large Crown Vic's door. He had drawn his .45 but didn't remember when he had, was it when he was running or driving? It was not important now but he was sure after all this was over he would have a crap load of paperwork to do and a detail like that might be good to remember. Kirk could hear the whine and squealing of breaks as a semi truck full of frozen chicken locked up and jackknifed. He threw a glance over his shoulder, saw the semi turn over, and scraped the road clean like a huge snowplow. It stopped just shy of the end of what would be yet another mess made by yours truly.
"Gus? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Kirk said to himself. He could see movement through all the wreckage and Gus slowly crawled out from the smashed-up car, and hid behind the rear fender. Then without warning, Gus popped up with a handgun and opened fire, a bullet sliced through the door; hitting Kirk in the leg and sending a riveting heat through his body. Dropping to one knee from the impact of the bullet as it drilled into his flesh, Kirk fired back two shots that glanced off the rear fender where Gus's head was a few seconds before.
Kirk grimaced and looked down, seeing that the bullet had not hit an artery, and appeared to have gone clean through, he clenched his jaw and cursed. This was the time most cops would have waited for backup and nursed their wounds. However, Kirk Weston had what he liked to call a short fuse, and he was hopping mad.
"Okay, this is how you want to do this? Fine, just remember you called down the rain so don't gripe if you get wet!"
Kirk peered at the Caddy to see if Gus was up waiting for him to make an appearance and saw the little creep through the broken side window cowering like a whipped dog. Kirk shot at him so he would have more time and mustering all his strength, he jumped to his feet.
Kirk Weston ran ignoring the burning pain that ate at his leg and like a gunslinger, he held out his .45 out in front of him making a straight line for the overturned car. Gus jumped to his feet, looked into the wild eyes of Kirk
SWEET
DREAMS
59
Weston, and had a tinge of regret run through his mind. Only a crazy man would run across open ground gun drawn screaming like that. It unnerved Gus and he did what only a beaten man would do--he hesitated!
Kirk saw this flash of fear cross Gus's face and shot once hitting Gus in the right shoulder. Gus twitched and twisted around and fell backward landing on a bed of glass. Gus turned on his side as quick as he could to put a bullet into the pigs other leg, and when he looked through the glassless side windows of his mothers prize Cadillac, all he saw was the flash of a muzzle flare from the cop's gun.
Kirk saw Gus hit the ground and knew what he was planning on doing. He thinks he is going to put another slug in my other
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