inbreed,” Scott said.
“That’s the idea,” Toby said, standing up. Then Cindy’s .357 went off, sending the man with the shotgun flying. Scott pulled his pistol and shot Toby in the gut, then turned and put a bullet into the other man’s head as he struggled to aim the shotgun. He whipped back around to see Toby holding a gun, and shot him in the head, splattering blood and brains on the front of his camper.
Scott ran to camper and ripped the door open. Kerry was on the floor, hands tied, duct tape over his mouth. Scott ripped the tape off and untied him as quickly as he could. “Run back to the motor home, Kerry.”
He looked at him through his tears, eyes horrified, and ran. Scott heard the Class B’s engine start, and watched as it backed out. He ran towards it, shooting at the tires, and sending a couple rounds into the back window. A woman screamed from inside, and it stopped with a jerk.
“Cindy, c’mon, let’s take care of those guys,” Scott yelled as he ran. She caught up with him, the .357 in her hand.
“We’re gonna kill them too?” she asked, eyes wild, a wicked smile on her face.
“They know what our rig looks like. I hope they didn’t call anybody.”
They got to the front of the Class B and looked in the windows. The driver’s head was splattered all over the dash. There was a scared woman in the passenger seat, frantically trying to work her phone.
“No! Please!” she cried as Scott pointed the gun at her face. He hesitated, but Cindy stuck her gun in closer and pulled the trigger.
“Damn, baby,” Scott said, laughing. “I’d better not piss you off.”
She looked at him and grinned. “We’d better check the inside.”
“Yeah,” Scott said. He went to the side door and slid it open. There wasn’t anybody else there. “Let’s take their food.”
“I’ll get it,” she said. “You go check the truck camper.”
“Okay,” Scott said. “I’ll send Kerry over to help.”
“Maybe we can get the supplies out of the other rig too.”
“Trust me, we don’t want anything out of there. They might have touched it. Those two smelled
bad
.” Scott ran over and checked the rest of the truck camper. There was nobody else there. He grabbed the handgun and shotgun from the bodies and dropped them off in the motor home.
“Kerry, come help us carry, okay?” he said. Kerry shook his head yes and followed, still very shaken.
“Not too much here,” Cindy said, carrying an armful. “Some good beer, though.”
They grabbed what they could and ran back over to the motor home. Scott got behind the wheel and drove back onto the dirt road, trying not to hit anything in the dark.
“We’re gonna get caught,” Scott whispered. “Only a matter of time.”
“Why do you say that?” Cindy asked, trying to catch her breath.
“Ballistics,” he said. “They’ll figure out the slugs in those folks came from my guns.”
“They registered to you?” Cindy asked.
“No, but they were used in other events,” Scott said. “You okay up there, Kerry?”
“I’m scared,” he said.
“I know,” Scott said. “Don’t worry.”
“Want me to let him sit here?” Cindy asked.
“When we get on the interstate, yeah. You should look out the back window for a while, just in case.”
“They won’t be after us that fast, will they?” she asked.
“Depends,” Scott said. “If the folks in the Class B called 911, we’re liable to have company pretty quick.”
“Would you have killed them if they didn’t try to leave?” she asked.
“No choice,” Scott said. “I hope nobody else was around.” He turned onto the paved road. They were on the interstate in a matter of minutes. It took quite a few miles for Scott to settle down.
***
Malcolm woke up first. His phone said 6:30. He slipped out of bed and got dressed, then wandered out the door, strolling through the KOA Park, listening to birds and the light breeze rustling the trees. It was peaceful. His mind was on
“That’s the idea,” Toby said, standing up. Then Cindy’s .357 went off, sending the man with the shotgun flying. Scott pulled his pistol and shot Toby in the gut, then turned and put a bullet into the other man’s head as he struggled to aim the shotgun. He whipped back around to see Toby holding a gun, and shot him in the head, splattering blood and brains on the front of his camper.
Scott ran to camper and ripped the door open. Kerry was on the floor, hands tied, duct tape over his mouth. Scott ripped the tape off and untied him as quickly as he could. “Run back to the motor home, Kerry.”
He looked at him through his tears, eyes horrified, and ran. Scott heard the Class B’s engine start, and watched as it backed out. He ran towards it, shooting at the tires, and sending a couple rounds into the back window. A woman screamed from inside, and it stopped with a jerk.
“Cindy, c’mon, let’s take care of those guys,” Scott yelled as he ran. She caught up with him, the .357 in her hand.
“We’re gonna kill them too?” she asked, eyes wild, a wicked smile on her face.
“They know what our rig looks like. I hope they didn’t call anybody.”
They got to the front of the Class B and looked in the windows. The driver’s head was splattered all over the dash. There was a scared woman in the passenger seat, frantically trying to work her phone.
“No! Please!” she cried as Scott pointed the gun at her face. He hesitated, but Cindy stuck her gun in closer and pulled the trigger.
“Damn, baby,” Scott said, laughing. “I’d better not piss you off.”
She looked at him and grinned. “We’d better check the inside.”
“Yeah,” Scott said. He went to the side door and slid it open. There wasn’t anybody else there. “Let’s take their food.”
“I’ll get it,” she said. “You go check the truck camper.”
“Okay,” Scott said. “I’ll send Kerry over to help.”
“Maybe we can get the supplies out of the other rig too.”
“Trust me, we don’t want anything out of there. They might have touched it. Those two smelled
bad
.” Scott ran over and checked the rest of the truck camper. There was nobody else there. He grabbed the handgun and shotgun from the bodies and dropped them off in the motor home.
“Kerry, come help us carry, okay?” he said. Kerry shook his head yes and followed, still very shaken.
“Not too much here,” Cindy said, carrying an armful. “Some good beer, though.”
They grabbed what they could and ran back over to the motor home. Scott got behind the wheel and drove back onto the dirt road, trying not to hit anything in the dark.
“We’re gonna get caught,” Scott whispered. “Only a matter of time.”
“Why do you say that?” Cindy asked, trying to catch her breath.
“Ballistics,” he said. “They’ll figure out the slugs in those folks came from my guns.”
“They registered to you?” Cindy asked.
“No, but they were used in other events,” Scott said. “You okay up there, Kerry?”
“I’m scared,” he said.
“I know,” Scott said. “Don’t worry.”
“Want me to let him sit here?” Cindy asked.
“When we get on the interstate, yeah. You should look out the back window for a while, just in case.”
“They won’t be after us that fast, will they?” she asked.
“Depends,” Scott said. “If the folks in the Class B called 911, we’re liable to have company pretty quick.”
“Would you have killed them if they didn’t try to leave?” she asked.
“No choice,” Scott said. “I hope nobody else was around.” He turned onto the paved road. They were on the interstate in a matter of minutes. It took quite a few miles for Scott to settle down.
***
Malcolm woke up first. His phone said 6:30. He slipped out of bed and got dressed, then wandered out the door, strolling through the KOA Park, listening to birds and the light breeze rustling the trees. It was peaceful. His mind was on
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