Part nine of this story already. And still trying to evolve as a writer by adding more to a story and fining what is needed to write a bit of suspense I guess. I am enjoying the writing and searching for a voice that I can call my own, being an amateur and all. Hope you will enjoy the read.
Detective McDougal! Part Nove
The gun is warm to the touch, its wooden grip fitting perfectly to the touch. My finger tracing the small ring around the trigger, unsure if I should pull it out now and use it. Shooting recklessly up the stair behind the bars, hoping to trigger an alarm or have a guard come down.
Or have it ready for when they come through that door, six bullets reloading time 20 seconds. All kinds of numbers and possibilities run through McDougal’s mind creating images of a possible future and coming out of his mouth in short incoherent mumblings.
Fingers twitch and grip the gun tight, pulling it from its holster. Side stepping to the corner he leans in to look around it.
Maybe he was hoping to see someone coming out the door as he had the hammer cocked and a drop of sweat slit down from his temple into a maze of stubbles that was his unshaven beard. Focussed at the tunnel ready for them to break through he does not notice Susan taking of her shoes.
Kneeled down by the bars is Susan with an arm stretched through holding one of her shoes. With a pendulum motion she swings it back and forth, before releasing it at the stairs. A deep sigh of failure escapes her pouting lips together with some nasty swear words, getting McDougal’s attention.
“What are you doing Susan? “ He quickly looks around the corner before walking over to Susan who just got up and is leaning into the bars with an arm swinging through them.
Her face in upper concentration she is swinging her second shoe back and forth. There on the fourth step of the stairs lays one of her shoes. A deep breath has McDougal silenced at watching her throw her shoe over to the stairs again. This time it landed on the fifth step. “YES!”.
She didn’t even had the first letter on her tongue or lights were turned red and sliding panels dropped down from the ceiling, sealing them away from the tracks. McDougal and Susan look nervously around unsure what she triggered.
From the stairs the sound of dozens of footsteps come rushing down, drawn rifles point at the two trapped on the platform. “Don’t move, or we’ll shoot, Put your hands in the air, you are under arrest!”
Some of the faces look surprised seeing a beautiful lady in a sexy sparkling dress lifting her arms up. McDougal’s gun hanging from his pinkie high above his head, with his chin dropped to his chest. “Wow, I did not expect this kind of welcome”
One of the men steps through the armed guards to the front “Oh my God, did I just hear it right? Is that you Jerry? Jerry McDougal, I heard you was dead, you bastard”
Jerry Lowers his hands and flips the gun around and holsters it “I am you little weasel if you keep those guns pointed at us. How about lowering them, Alfonso.”
Best of wishes and see you next time.
Ranting Crow
Ranting Crow 