Rusty Quill presents

Written by K.C. Willand

Out of the corner of my eye, something moved out beneath the wrecked car.

And the next thing I remember was the back of my head hitting the pavement.

I looked left, and out from under the car crawled that black hoodie with the baton.

The shit got the drop on me.

I reached for my rifle, but it was at my feet.

Then I saw him pull the pistol from the side.

Ah, no!

I kicked my rifle up at him and I support the trigger.

He missed, but not by much.

I asked for a straight onto my face.

The rifle has surprised, ended up dropping his baton.

I grabbed it and swung at what I hoped was his right arm.

It was just enough to knock the gun out of his hand as he fired a second shot.

I spun and reached the gravity as I felt his arm go around my neck.

Everything started to go fuzzy.

Let him go now, or your brain meets the concrete.

Wait, we need him!

Don't!

I will if he twitches.

We need to move this conversation somewhere else.

...