asked again, “I swear buddy, I will kill you. Who sent you?”
Just then, the lights came on. Another man in a sleek suit wielding another silencer-laden gun was leaning on the wall next to the switch.
The second stranger cut in, “What the hell are you doing Burt? The guy's a bum! We don’t need guns blowing off in an apartment building with tenants all around us because of a bum!”
Mac had no idea what they were talking about. Then like a bolt of lightening it hit him. He really did look like a bum, so they assumed he was one.
“How do you know he's a bum?” asked Burt.
“Look at the guy,” said number two.
“What the hell are you doin' here boy?” asked number two.
“Sir, I was, I was comin' to sleep. 'Dis here m'am ain't been home for a few days now, so I figured I'd help myself to a nice couch and some warm clothes. I watch her every day. She left wit' suitcases just a day o' two ago. I figured I got another coupla' days. I'm very sorry, I didn't mean no harm.” said Mac in his best southern bum slang.
Burt pushed Mac to the ground, held him face down on the floor, and wielded the gun again.
“I don't believe you!” shouted Burt.
“Burt, Burt, calm down man. We don't need this. There are tenants around.” He whispered softly but firmly.
As Mac shook with fear, he could see the hole under the bed. This was exactly where Laura was hiding her evidence. All he could think was how close these two goons were to what they needed. Number two grabbed Burt's trigger arm.
“Burt, calm down, put the gun away. I'm gonna' go check the hallway. I'm gonna' make sure we caused no ruckus and figure out what to do with our friend.”
Number two then looked sternly at Mac. “Sir, let's just say that you are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Keep quiet. Sit still and you'll be OK.”
Mac looked back at him and pleaded. “Sir, all due respect, but I ain't comfortable to sit in this room with 'dis man who jus' tried to kill me.”
Number two stared at Mac for a second and said, “OK Burt, you go look in the hallway, make sure the door is locked, and then come back.”
Mac breathed a huge sigh of relief. Burt left the room. It was apparent his higher-ranking partners decision to override his opinion angered him. Number two turned around for a split second to peak around the corner into the master bathroom. The coast was clear. As he was turning back around he heard Mac's voice.
“Sorry buddy.”
Mac hit Number two across the forehead and nose with an iron lamp on Laura's night table. Number two crumbled to the floor. Mac dropped to the floor, reached under the bed, grabbed everything he could feel in the hole, jumped up, across the bed, out the window, and actually got down the three flights of metal stairs hardly touching a step. His body jerked right and left, his head hit the side of the metal steps, he felt a cut open on the side of his forehead, but he kept scrambling. Before he knew it he was at the bottom.
The leap from the fire escape to the concrete floor in the alley hurt both his ankles. Shooting pains traveled up his shins, aggravating his shin splints, but nothing stopped him. He dove into his Corvette, fumbled with the keys, started the car, and drove off in a frenzy. He hit each side of the brick buildings lining the alley. He did not care. His precious Corvette just went from first on his list to last in order of priority. He drove off into the night.
5
Night fell. Everyone in the house was asleep except for Aaron. He crept to the computer and slowly turned it on, hoping not to wake anyone. He was so anxious, he could not stand it. These damn computers took so long to turn on. They went through what seemed like twenty hard drive scans, then on to the virus check, and finally the big Windows screen. It seemed like an eternity. Finally the desktop appeared on the screen.
He clicked on the Internet icon and was off. He went to their chat room. He was already smiling because of
Just then, the lights came on. Another man in a sleek suit wielding another silencer-laden gun was leaning on the wall next to the switch.
The second stranger cut in, “What the hell are you doing Burt? The guy's a bum! We don’t need guns blowing off in an apartment building with tenants all around us because of a bum!”
Mac had no idea what they were talking about. Then like a bolt of lightening it hit him. He really did look like a bum, so they assumed he was one.
“How do you know he's a bum?” asked Burt.
“Look at the guy,” said number two.
“What the hell are you doin' here boy?” asked number two.
“Sir, I was, I was comin' to sleep. 'Dis here m'am ain't been home for a few days now, so I figured I'd help myself to a nice couch and some warm clothes. I watch her every day. She left wit' suitcases just a day o' two ago. I figured I got another coupla' days. I'm very sorry, I didn't mean no harm.” said Mac in his best southern bum slang.
Burt pushed Mac to the ground, held him face down on the floor, and wielded the gun again.
“I don't believe you!” shouted Burt.
“Burt, Burt, calm down man. We don't need this. There are tenants around.” He whispered softly but firmly.
As Mac shook with fear, he could see the hole under the bed. This was exactly where Laura was hiding her evidence. All he could think was how close these two goons were to what they needed. Number two grabbed Burt's trigger arm.
“Burt, calm down, put the gun away. I'm gonna' go check the hallway. I'm gonna' make sure we caused no ruckus and figure out what to do with our friend.”
Number two then looked sternly at Mac. “Sir, let's just say that you are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Keep quiet. Sit still and you'll be OK.”
Mac looked back at him and pleaded. “Sir, all due respect, but I ain't comfortable to sit in this room with 'dis man who jus' tried to kill me.”
Number two stared at Mac for a second and said, “OK Burt, you go look in the hallway, make sure the door is locked, and then come back.”
Mac breathed a huge sigh of relief. Burt left the room. It was apparent his higher-ranking partners decision to override his opinion angered him. Number two turned around for a split second to peak around the corner into the master bathroom. The coast was clear. As he was turning back around he heard Mac's voice.
“Sorry buddy.”
Mac hit Number two across the forehead and nose with an iron lamp on Laura's night table. Number two crumbled to the floor. Mac dropped to the floor, reached under the bed, grabbed everything he could feel in the hole, jumped up, across the bed, out the window, and actually got down the three flights of metal stairs hardly touching a step. His body jerked right and left, his head hit the side of the metal steps, he felt a cut open on the side of his forehead, but he kept scrambling. Before he knew it he was at the bottom.
The leap from the fire escape to the concrete floor in the alley hurt both his ankles. Shooting pains traveled up his shins, aggravating his shin splints, but nothing stopped him. He dove into his Corvette, fumbled with the keys, started the car, and drove off in a frenzy. He hit each side of the brick buildings lining the alley. He did not care. His precious Corvette just went from first on his list to last in order of priority. He drove off into the night.
5
Night fell. Everyone in the house was asleep except for Aaron. He crept to the computer and slowly turned it on, hoping not to wake anyone. He was so anxious, he could not stand it. These damn computers took so long to turn on. They went through what seemed like twenty hard drive scans, then on to the virus check, and finally the big Windows screen. It seemed like an eternity. Finally the desktop appeared on the screen.
He clicked on the Internet icon and was off. He went to their chat room. He was already smiling because of
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