(Copyright 2015 St Rooster Books)
In the car Daily called another
highway patrolman named Walter Andrews and told him to meet him at the Kwicky
Burger. Andrews had been at Finney’s house at the beginning, but got called
away to work a multi-car accident.
They drove out to Finney’s house
in Daily’s car and stopped behind Porter’s car.
“Sonnuvabitch.”
“Bill, that house got searched top
to bottom. Only thing been killed there were some cats and dogs.”
“Yea, yea…he didn’t kill people
here though. Killed’em in their houses.”
“We searched his vehicles and
storage unit down town.”
“Yea, yea…”
“Well. We gonna go knock? Or
should we call back up?”
“We can take Finney. If this is
what it might be, shoot to kill. I ain’t taking chances.”
“You got, sarge.”
They got out, guns drawn and
walked down the side of the driveway staying in the shadows. Lights were on in
the house, but they didn’t see anyone inside. They stood in the front lawn just
outside the rectangle of light shining from the living room.
Andrews whispered he’d check the
back. Daily squatted down and watched the house.
Andrews crept along the side in
the house, standing on his toes to look in the windows, but didn’t see
anything. When he stepped into the backyard, he nearly pissed himself at the
sight of two men standing near the back door.
In a calm low voice he said,
“Highway patrol, put your hands up and be quiet.”
The men complied and Andrews came
up closer to them, until something cold and metallic pressed against his throat
and someone said ‘shhhhh’ into his ear.
Daily waited as long as he could
and moved to the front door. He peaked in and saw Porter tied up, calmly
struggling against the twine. He checked the corners, pulling a pocketknife and
knelt down, cutting the twine in two quick moves. He was helping Porter to his
feet, when Porter suddenly shoved him aside and Finney’s ax hit the floor right
where he just stood.
A jet of piss soaked the front of
Daily’s pants when he saw Finney yank the ax out of the floor.
Byron was wearing his wrestling
outfit, but had painted his face to look like a pink and black skull. Porter kicked
one of Byron’s legs out and he crashed into a coffee table. Daily struggled, a
bit, to get his gun back out of its holster. Porter was already on his feet and
stomping on one of Byron’s arms, trying to make him let go of the ax.
Daily moved around Porter aiming
his gun at Byron’s head.
“Back up, Port’. I got’em.”
A shot rang out and Daily felt his
shoulder and the front of his shirt suddenly become soaked. He reached up and
could see blood spurting outward then he felt the searing pain in his neck. Before
he hit the ground, Porter grabbed his gun and started firing at Lucy who was
firing from around the corner in the kitchen. The last thing Daily saw was
Byron biting Porter’s calf.
The pain was worse than you’d
expect. Porter fell beside Daily, trying to kick Byron off and not get shot.
Byron suddenly leapt on top of Porter pinning his arm across his own chest so
Porter couldn’t aim the gun.
Byron’s hot rank breath made
Porter nauseas. He fought to push him off, but Byron was a huge mass of muscle
and Porter was helpless.
“You got him, baby?”
Byron got a handful of Porter’s
hair and grabbed the arm holding the gun, smashing Porter’s hand to the ground
until he had to let go of the gun.
“You probably should’a ran,
Porter. You ain’t getting another chance.”
Three men pushed Andrews into the
living room and forced him to his knees. One held a machete to Andrews throat
while the other two came over and helped Byron get Porter subdued.
They got Porter on his belly then
one of the men put Porter in a headlock, stretching his back so that Porter had
to look at Andrews. They’d beat him up pretty bad and cut out his left eye.
Andrews looked like he might be in shock. He stared at Porter with one wide
eye, his mouth moving without a sound.
“Andrews, it’s ok…”
At this everyone laughed and Byron
ruffled Porter’s hair.
“Sure it is! Just look at Porter,
Andrews! It’s all good, sweetheart!”
Byron walked over to Andrews and
slapped his head.
“Look at me, piggy! Who else knew
ya’ll were coming back down here?”
Andrews couldn’t speak, but his
lips kept moving. Byron smacked him a again and Andrews spat out, “-through the
valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil..!”
Byron smacked him again.
“Who else?”
“For I-“
Smack!
“Fuck, pig! Jesus ain’t answering
you, so you might as well answer me!”
Andrews went silent and looked
around the room then back up at Byron and finally to Porter.
“Who. Else. Knows. You. Were.
Coming. Back. Here. Pig?”
“N-no one…keeping it quiet…I got a
family, man…”
Byron squatted in front of him, “Not
anymore you don’t.”
He stood up and the man with the
machete chopped into Andrew’s neck, cutting halfway through. Porter closed his
eyes as Andrews’ blood gushed out across the floor.
Byron went through Daily’s pocket
and found his cell phone; he looked at recent contacts and matched Ann’s number
with the one on Porter’s phone. He chuckled and called her back on Daily’s
phone.
“Hey, Daily!”
“Cunt, you just keep on sending
cops to my house and I’ll keep on chopping them to pieces.”
“You mother fucker, I know who you
are now!”
“You really fucking don’t.”
“Stay away, Ann!”
Byron kicked Porter in the ribs.
“I didn’t say you could speak,
pussy! Now listen to this, cunt; One of ya’ll get the state boys’ IDs, find out
where they live and go kill their families.”
Ann heard some chuckling and
someone said ‘you got it.’
She hung up the phone and called
911. The operator answered and she began to hastily run through the whole
story, insisting that units get to the homes of the troopers quickly. She was
asked about her location, but said only that she was hiding.
