Post by morriss003 on May 26, 2014 14:23:50 GMT -5
Fate played its card, and the clouded moon caused Douglas to miss the man, covered by a black hoodie, who was urinating by a tree. He saw the stranger as the man was zipping his pants and turning, but the stranger saw him, too. There was no time to draw the Rugers, so he pushed off on his good foot and slammed the man against the redwood, trying to use his left hand to cover the stranger’s mouth. He missed, but it didn’t matter, for a bright lightning flash was followed by a blast of sound that drowned the man’s warning cry.
They fell to the ground and rolled in the wet pine needles, each struggling to get a grip on the other’s face or neck. The stranger outweighed Douglas, but years of coping with a missing left foot had built strength in his arms, and it was only a matter of minutes before Douglas had the larger man pinned. Holding his arm across the man’s throat, Douglas used his other hand to slide his knife from its sheath, but when he did this, the man wiggled free, reached his knees and crawled away.
Douglas pushed his body forward, reached, and stabbed the back of the man’s calf. The stranger screamed into the roar of the storm and grabbed his leg. Douglas crawled forward and forced the man, face down, against the soft mud. He heard the man’s terrified cries as he brought the tip of his knife against the side of the stranger’s neck and stabbed. He missed the jugular vein and had to listen to quieter cries of resignation, before he stabbed again. The man’s body gave a great shake and then stilled. Douglas withdrew the bloody knife, wiped it on his trousers, and then he wiped his blood soaked hand.
When he managed to pull erect he almost despaired, for by the twist at the end of his stump he realized that his prosthetic was damaged. He took a minute to think, and then he dropped to the ground and dragged the hoodie over the dead man’s shoulders. He pulled the muddy garment over his head and began to crawl toward the light of the fire flickering though the trees. Each foot of ground gained was an agonizing pull, though sometimes he managed to brace his stump against a root or a rock, push the ground with his remaining foot, and make more headway.
As he approached he heard two men laughing, and then he heard Petal crying. He heard Susanna’s trembling tone as she tried to comfort the girl. When he slithered on his stomach into the small clearing he heard a man exclaim, “Carl, what the hell happened?”
When the man stood, Douglas rolled onto his back, sighted the Rugers over the man’s head, and pulled the trigger. The revolver boomed, flesh and blood burst from the man’s chest, and he fell backwards. Susanna and Petal screamed, but the other man cursed, and drew his gun. The Rugers boomed again, but Douglas had shot in haste, and though he clipped the man’s ear, the wayward shot allowed the last man to turn and flee.
They fell to the ground and rolled in the wet pine needles, each struggling to get a grip on the other’s face or neck. The stranger outweighed Douglas, but years of coping with a missing left foot had built strength in his arms, and it was only a matter of minutes before Douglas had the larger man pinned. Holding his arm across the man’s throat, Douglas used his other hand to slide his knife from its sheath, but when he did this, the man wiggled free, reached his knees and crawled away.
Douglas pushed his body forward, reached, and stabbed the back of the man’s calf. The stranger screamed into the roar of the storm and grabbed his leg. Douglas crawled forward and forced the man, face down, against the soft mud. He heard the man’s terrified cries as he brought the tip of his knife against the side of the stranger’s neck and stabbed. He missed the jugular vein and had to listen to quieter cries of resignation, before he stabbed again. The man’s body gave a great shake and then stilled. Douglas withdrew the bloody knife, wiped it on his trousers, and then he wiped his blood soaked hand.
When he managed to pull erect he almost despaired, for by the twist at the end of his stump he realized that his prosthetic was damaged. He took a minute to think, and then he dropped to the ground and dragged the hoodie over the dead man’s shoulders. He pulled the muddy garment over his head and began to crawl toward the light of the fire flickering though the trees. Each foot of ground gained was an agonizing pull, though sometimes he managed to brace his stump against a root or a rock, push the ground with his remaining foot, and make more headway.
As he approached he heard two men laughing, and then he heard Petal crying. He heard Susanna’s trembling tone as she tried to comfort the girl. When he slithered on his stomach into the small clearing he heard a man exclaim, “Carl, what the hell happened?”
When the man stood, Douglas rolled onto his back, sighted the Rugers over the man’s head, and pulled the trigger. The revolver boomed, flesh and blood burst from the man’s chest, and he fell backwards. Susanna and Petal screamed, but the other man cursed, and drew his gun. The Rugers boomed again, but Douglas had shot in haste, and though he clipped the man’s ear, the wayward shot allowed the last man to turn and flee.