The Car An The Shotgun-Acontinuation Of The Cat And The Shotgun Bryan King
The car and the shotgun
(Continuation of ‘the cat and the shotgun’)
After the crazy man cleaned Jake’s remains from the floor, placed them in a black bookbag, and left the bag on the roof with a note saying:
Happy Mother’s day
From your caring son,
Jake,
he took me down stairs (not hostily, no, no he didn’t want to attract attention, but a new not to make a scene if I wanted to live) he placed me in a ‘66 Ford Mustang. It was the last thing I was expecting to see, with a shinny paint job, leather interior, and very nice chrome wheels. For some reason, (even though I knew I probably wouldn’t live for a few hours at the most; Jake’s death didn’t seem to bother me much either), I was in an excellent mood. I felt as if I was going to the fair: I walked with a spring in my step and a smile on my face.
“So killing people pays good these days, does it?” The crazy man (whose name I still hadn’t learned yet) seemed to pick up on my mood, and carry the flow.
“Yeah. I figure, if I’m going to torture somebody, I might as well do it in style.” A remark that only a crazy man could make.
“Well, I guess there is no better way to go than inside a mustang.”
“That’s exactly what I thought. The person that I killed for this car really had fine taste.”
He pulled the driver’s door open and undid the handcuffs.
“Okay, sweetheart, it’s time to see how go your driving skills are. Here is your license, and the registration to the car. I’ll be hiding under a blanket in the back seat, but I will still be watching you. So don’t try anything that would case Katie here to knock of another round tonight. She is already tired.” He pulled the barrel from underneath his jacket for one second, then shoved it away quickly.
I wasn’t disappointed in the least, though; I hadn’t thought of escape since he mentioned it. There was something I didn’t understand yet and I needed an explanation.
“Why are you making me drive?” Even though I asked the question in a matter of confusion, I still sat my bottom in the driver’s seat without hesitation.
“Because…I am a wanted man. The 18th most wanted man in the country at the moment, well unless they caught that bank robber in Oakland, which I hope they did because I have been waiting patiently to get that fifteenth spot and if I don’t…” He seemed to realize that had nothing to do with the question I had asked and looked a bit embarrassed (which, I never thought I would see the day where a crazy man got embarrassed) and went back to the original subject. “…you see, being a wanted man makes you vulnerable to police, and if an officer happened to be stopped beside me at a red light, (there is no telling if he has memorized all the 100 most wanted men in the country) and happens to recognize my face, I’m out of luck and out of a hobby, because, I don’t think they let the inmates kill each other in prison.” He took a breath and sighed. “You understand why I can’t drive now?” he closed the door and climbed into the backseat without waiting for an answer.
I pulled the seat back a bit, and found the keys already in the ignition. Turning the engine over, I asked: “So…where to today, sir?”
“The Park downtown.”
“It’s now 5:08 according to this clock. In this traffic we’ll be lucky to make it there by 6:00, and unless, you have an invisible button under the dash somewhere, I think the police might see us.”
“I don’t care if they see us, just if they stop. Now stop questioning what I’m saying and do it. Drive to the Park Downtown, I don’t give a damn if it take’s you ‘till next week, just do it.”
“Okay…gosh, you don’t have to be so hostile.” The traffic was already backed up as she turned down Gleen Street, which led straight to Downtown.
“You’re right I’m sorry, in the book I read about killing people, it said ‘Always treat your victims like a good child.’ I’m very sorry.”
The rest of the trip was ridden in silence. Finally, at 6:01, I pulled the mustang into a gravel parking lot, and turned the car off.
“You wait up here while I get something from the trunk.” He climbed out and closed the door.
For the first time I came to realize something I knew all along:
I’m going to die today.
The end
Submit Your Review for The Car An The Shotgun-Acontinuation Of The Cat And The Shotgun
Required fields are marked with (*). Your e-mail address will not be displayed.
Submit Your Rating for The Car An The Shotgun-Acontinuation Of The Cat And The Shotgun