Hoping he is still close by, I say “Gambino, a man wearing a cloak that could match the thread found in the boy’s fingernail was seen leaving the Cock and Bull Tap a few minutes ago. I’m searching the vicinity right now.”
Gambino doesn’t miss a beat. “On my way.”
Holstering my phone and unholstering my Glock in one smooth motion, I step out to the street. It looks still with nothing to indicate which direction I should take. I follow my gut and run to the right, set on checking out the entire block anyway. At the first intersection, I check all directions but see nothing. I round the corner and run down toward the end of that side of the block with my boots clicking loudly on the sidewalk with each step. Cripes! I need rubber sole boots if I am ever going to sneak up on someone!
When I’m almost to the second corner, my eye catches a flash of red disappearing behind a warehouse to my right. I cut across the lawn and run between two warehouses toward the center of the block. Just before passing beyond the shelter of the warehouses on either side, I stop. Peering behind them as much as possible, I assess my options. The warehouse on my right has stacks of empty pallets in the shipping yard. The warehouse on my left has an empty yard with only one large, stationary eighteen wheeler. Regardless of which side he’s on, it’s clear I will be wide open and an easy target while trying to reach either the truck or the pallets. I pull out my sixth sense, looking for a trace of a soul to guide me, but I feel nothing. Shoot! Where’s a little help when a girl needs it?
With my gun pointed ahead, I rush around the corner to the right. I place my back to the warehouse, feeling the rough bricks scrape my back through my thin shirt and vest. My thrashing heart feels ready to burst in my chest. I strain my eyes, looking for the smallest movement. My sixth sense is still at high alert, and I feel a slight tug from the left. Turning in that direction, I notice a little spot of red under the truck. As soon as I swing my gun toward it, a loud noise blasts my eardrums. Boom! Boom! Chips of brick fly around me as two bullets narrowly miss my head.
I aim my gun at the red spot and shoot as I rush to the first stack of pallets opposite the truck. When I’m halfway there, I hear return fire. Boom! Boom! Boom! Three shots echo off the buildings. I dive through the air as the bullets fly around me. Curling into a ball, I land, rolling head over foot, but my backpack brings me to a quick stop. Just barely behind the pallets, I jump up and sideways to take cover. Holy smokes, that was close!
Ignoring my scratches and bruises, I peer around the right side of the pallet stack. I want to get this guy so bad I can taste it. From this angle, I can see more of the deep red cloak peeking out from behind the rear tires of the truck. I crouch and try to identify the shooter, but all I can see is the truck’s shadow and the red fabric.
I fire two more shots under the truck. One bullet ricochets off the bumper, and the other tears a hole in one tire close to the spot of red. A sharp hiss fills the air, and the truck sinks slightly.
I pull several pallets off the top of the pile I’m hiding behind and position them on their sides in front of me to afford better protection. I aim my gun under the truck and shout, “Supernatural Investigation Bureau! Come out with your hands up!”
Three shots whizz toward me, tearing up the pallets with splinters of coarse wood flying in all directions. I crouch down again, ready to aim carefully this time, but as I peer across the space to the truck, I see Gambino coming from behind the truck with two officers following him. I quickly shoot two more tires on the right side of the truck, and the hisses tell me I aimed true. Unfortunately, the semi has eighteen wheels, so three flat tires lack the desired effect.
Gambino has his gun unholstered and aimed at the red spot. Hoping to distract the perpetrator, I fire some shots wide into the ground to the right of the truck. The man returns one oddly wild shot back at me. It misses the pallet stack entirely. I aim for two more tires toward the rear, thinking that if I can get the back of the truck lowered, the man will be crushed or at least trapped.
Gambino yells, “Come out with your hands up!”...
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Excerpt from: The Light Who Shines
By: Lilo Abernathy
On Amazon: http://amzn.to/1eL48yy
