against the sink and reached for a knife behind him.
Eric smashed the brass knuckles into his face with a straight right and that sent him to the floor. He stood over him, panting, and said, “Touch her again cocksucker, and I’ll kill you.”
Eric was near the front door when the sound of a cartridge hitting the floor registered in his mind. The round had nicked his ear and been embedded into the heavy wood of the front door. His ears began to ring and it felt as if time slowed.
Jeff held a revolver with a loose grip, his other hand stopping the blood that spilled from his mouth. Eric felt the pull of fear. He dashed behind the couch as a round missed his face by inches. Another round went through the couch and embedded into the coffee table. Jeff stepped closer and fired another round into the couch, grazing his leg. Eric knew if he stayed where he was he would die. He stood and rushed at him.
A bullet slammed into Eric’s shoulder but he tackled Jeff to the floor before the next round went off. They wrestled with the gun. Eric’s arm had Jeff’s hand pinned to his chest. Jeff began to pull down, trying to fire a round into Eric’s stomach.
Eric felt a sharp pain and thought he had been shot. He screamed as the muffled blast from the gun tore through flesh.
Eric stood up, blood covering his clothes, certain that he was shot. Then he heard the sucking noise coming from Jeff’s chest and the black liquid oozing onto his mother’s floor.
“No!” Eric shouted. He grabbed a blanket off the couch and pressed it against Jeff’s chest, putting his weight behind it to stop the flow of blood that was pooling on the floor. “Jeff, I’m calling an ambulance. Hold this here. Jeff!”
But it was too late. Jeff’s eyes soon sat still, life drained from them. He no longer appeared human but as a corpse. As if someone had pulled the animating soul out of the inanimate body.
Eric grabbed the phone and dialed 911. He told them his mother’s address and then set the phone down. He sat on the couch waiting for the police to arrive. Then a thought crossed his mind and it made him feel sick: they wouldn’t believe him. He showed up with a gun and brass knuckles. They would think he did this on purpose. New Hampshire had the death penalty; he would die for this.
He sprinted to the kitchen and out the back door into the night, hopping over the neighbor’s wooden fence and into a flowerbed. He ran across their lawn and noticed a doghouse in the corner. A growl drew his attention in front of him where an Akida stood bearing his teeth. The dog was large and muscular, thick strands of drool beginning to ooze out of its mouth. Eric darted for the fence and the dog was on him. He felt a burning pain in his ankle and turned around to see the Akida biting down and shaking its head.
Eric noticed for the first time he was still holding the gun. He hit the dog over the head with the butt and it whined and loosened his grip. Eric lunged over the fence as the dog made another jump at him but missed and bit down on air.
Eric jumped two more fences and then was on the street. He walked quickly around the block as he heard sirens in the distance, coming closer. They wouldn’t believe him. He went over there with a gun and pulled the trigger. He pummeled Jeff’s face. They would think he did it on purpose.
Each street lamp was like poison as he passed underneath, glancing around to see if anybody saw him. His ears caused him a dull pain and his wrist was starting to ache, but he didn’t feel much different. He didn’t feel much of anything; just a nothingness.
Sirens were right behind him now, on the same street. Two patrol cars were speeding toward him and he threw the gun into the first trash bin he saw and started walking slower, his hands in his pockets. As the sirens came behind him, he wondered if he should run or maybe pretend to have a gun so they’d shoot him. There was no way he could survive in a cage surrounded by men
Eric smashed the brass knuckles into his face with a straight right and that sent him to the floor. He stood over him, panting, and said, “Touch her again cocksucker, and I’ll kill you.”
Eric was near the front door when the sound of a cartridge hitting the floor registered in his mind. The round had nicked his ear and been embedded into the heavy wood of the front door. His ears began to ring and it felt as if time slowed.
Jeff held a revolver with a loose grip, his other hand stopping the blood that spilled from his mouth. Eric felt the pull of fear. He dashed behind the couch as a round missed his face by inches. Another round went through the couch and embedded into the coffee table. Jeff stepped closer and fired another round into the couch, grazing his leg. Eric knew if he stayed where he was he would die. He stood and rushed at him.
A bullet slammed into Eric’s shoulder but he tackled Jeff to the floor before the next round went off. They wrestled with the gun. Eric’s arm had Jeff’s hand pinned to his chest. Jeff began to pull down, trying to fire a round into Eric’s stomach.
Eric felt a sharp pain and thought he had been shot. He screamed as the muffled blast from the gun tore through flesh.
Eric stood up, blood covering his clothes, certain that he was shot. Then he heard the sucking noise coming from Jeff’s chest and the black liquid oozing onto his mother’s floor.
“No!” Eric shouted. He grabbed a blanket off the couch and pressed it against Jeff’s chest, putting his weight behind it to stop the flow of blood that was pooling on the floor. “Jeff, I’m calling an ambulance. Hold this here. Jeff!”
But it was too late. Jeff’s eyes soon sat still, life drained from them. He no longer appeared human but as a corpse. As if someone had pulled the animating soul out of the inanimate body.
Eric grabbed the phone and dialed 911. He told them his mother’s address and then set the phone down. He sat on the couch waiting for the police to arrive. Then a thought crossed his mind and it made him feel sick: they wouldn’t believe him. He showed up with a gun and brass knuckles. They would think he did this on purpose. New Hampshire had the death penalty; he would die for this.
He sprinted to the kitchen and out the back door into the night, hopping over the neighbor’s wooden fence and into a flowerbed. He ran across their lawn and noticed a doghouse in the corner. A growl drew his attention in front of him where an Akida stood bearing his teeth. The dog was large and muscular, thick strands of drool beginning to ooze out of its mouth. Eric darted for the fence and the dog was on him. He felt a burning pain in his ankle and turned around to see the Akida biting down and shaking its head.
Eric noticed for the first time he was still holding the gun. He hit the dog over the head with the butt and it whined and loosened his grip. Eric lunged over the fence as the dog made another jump at him but missed and bit down on air.
Eric jumped two more fences and then was on the street. He walked quickly around the block as he heard sirens in the distance, coming closer. They wouldn’t believe him. He went over there with a gun and pulled the trigger. He pummeled Jeff’s face. They would think he did it on purpose.
Each street lamp was like poison as he passed underneath, glancing around to see if anybody saw him. His ears caused him a dull pain and his wrist was starting to ache, but he didn’t feel much different. He didn’t feel much of anything; just a nothingness.
Sirens were right behind him now, on the same street. Two patrol cars were speeding toward him and he threw the gun into the first trash bin he saw and started walking slower, his hands in his pockets. As the sirens came behind him, he wondered if he should run or maybe pretend to have a gun so they’d shoot him. There was no way he could survive in a cage surrounded by men
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