Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
But I didn’t question it.
I needed to get home and to do that, I needed fucking gas.
I pulled up to the only available pump, then quickly scanned the area, searching for any signs of the man who’d killed Bruton’s men. Once I was certain the coast was clear, I got out and started pumping gas. I watched the meter tick with one gallon after the next. Once I finished filling the tank, I went inside to grab a bottle of water and pay.
I felt like I stepped back in time as I opened the door and walked inside. It was dated and dark, and the tile floors were dingy and broken. The air felt thick and dirty, and it clung to me as I made my way to the back of the store. I passed a young couple with a baby and an older gentleman with a cane, and none of them seemed to notice the state of the place, nor did they care.
I gave them a quick nod, then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed up front to pay. I’d just gotten up the counter when my attention was drawn outside. My throat tightened as I watched the black van from earlier speed into the station and screech to a halt.
Everyone, including me, stopped and stood frozen as they watched the driver's door swing open. A wave of panic washed over me when I spotted a pair of black cowboy boots step out of the van and hit the pavement. Fuck. The man dressed in all black looked completely unhinged as he slowly surveyed the area.
I couldn’t believe that he was actually there.
I’d made sure that he wasn’t following me. I’d checked and double-checked, and never once did I see that fucking van trailing me. Not that it mattered. He was there now, and he looked just as deranged as he had before.
He stepped away from the van, and that’s when I noticed the AK-47 in his hand, the cold metal gleaming ominously in the flickering light. Without warning, he lifted his weapon and opened fire, killing or wounding the people trying to flee from him. Bullets pierced the air with a sharp crack, shattering the windows of the cars and trucks in the lot. Fragments of glass rained down as the convenience store's windows shattered under the onslaught of gunfire.
Customers and employees scattered in panic, their screams mingling with the loud pounding of my heart. The cashier whipped out a shotgun from beneath the counter. He shoved a few extra shells in the front pocket of his flannel as he shouted, “Everyone get to the back!”
“What’s going on!” a woman screeched. “Who is that?”
“Move it!” the cashier shouted once more.
The words had barely left his mouth when the glass shattered, and a bullet went through his chest, sending blood splatters all over the front counter. Shocked, he looked down at the blood on his chest and muttered, “Fuck! He shot me... He fucking sh...”
Before he could finish his thought, his body dropped to the floor. He was still clinging to his shotgun as he took his last breath. He’d tried to stop him, but the shots continued. Now, it was up to me to put an end to this madness. I grabbed a few shells from his pocket, then snatched the rifle from his hand and started for the front door.
Time slowed as I stopped and scanned the parking lot.
I crouched down, trying to remain unseen as I eased the door open and stepped outside. I was immediately hit with the familiar stench of gunpowder and death, but that didn’t deter me.
Instead, it spurred me on.
I was going to get this asshole once and for all.
With a shotgun in hand, I stepped out in his direct view and growled, “I’m right here, asshole!”
“Well, how about that?” In a sinister tone, the man snarled, “The coward finally comes out of hiding.”
Enraged, I lifted the shotgun and fired off a round, sending a spray of shot directly at him. Like something out of a movie, he managed to move in just enough time to avoid getting hit. I let out a stream of curses as I shot at him again. He didn’t shoot back.
He couldn’t.
I didn’t give him a chance.
I kept firing, one after another, forcing him to take cover. He got back in his van and started the engine. He threw it into drive and sped towards me, leaving me no choice but to jump out of the way. I barely had a chance to recover before the asshole started backing up, trying once again to end me with the fucking van.
I scrambled to my feet and dodged him once again.
I was about to take another shot when I heard sirens wailing in the distance, the roar growing louder as they approached. I could see the glow of their blue and red lights drawing close, and I knew my time was running out. He must’ve known it, too, because he stopped trying to hit me with his fucking van and sped out of the parking lot.