Free Jakarta Pandemic, The by Steven Konkoly
Authors: Steven Konkoly
pump action all the way back, opening the breech, and examining the barrel. Clear. He racked it forward, released the safety, and aimed it at the far wall of the basement. Click . He pumped the shotgun a few more times, aiming and pulling the trigger.
He placed the shotgun back on the rack and removed one of the pistols. He pointed the sleek, black .45 caliber Heckler and Koch USP semi-automatic pistol at the floor and pulled the slide back with his left hand. He visually inspected the weapon’s chamber. Clear. He turned around, aiming at a box of Cheez-Its across the basement. Click . He replaced it and grabbed the second pistol.
He cleared the Sig Sauer 9mm pistol and sighted in on the same cracker box. Click . Perfect action. Alex had bought the pistol for Kate before he’d left for Iraq in 2003. While stationed at Camp Pendleton, they had lived off base in Carlsbad, California. He always worried about a home invasion, especially when he was out of town.
He knew she couldn’t effectively use the .45. It was too large and clunky for her small hands, so he’d bought a pistol she could easily handle. The pistol fell far short of Kate’s idea of the perfect farewell gift, given that she was being left on her own to juggle work, a three-year-old son, and a midterm pregnancy, all while her husband invaded Iraq. Less than perfect, actually. The pistol had sat high on a shelf in their bedroom closet, untouched for over six months, until he had returned.
“You still have that one?” Kate asked.
Alex took a quick breath, clearly startled. “Uh huh. This one is yours. You’re just lucky I didn’t give it to you for your birthday.”
“Oh, really? I missed out. Is that what all of the captains’ wives and girlfriends got?”
“Some of them, perhaps.”
Kate seductively raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been waiting for you upstairs.” She briefly caressed his left shoulder and suddenly withdrew her hand. “That is, if you’re done stroking your guns down here.”
Alex put the pistol back in the locker. “Oh, I’m done with them. They were just a little warm up. You know how weapons turn me on.”
“Lock up, kiss the kids goodnight, and meet me upstairs. Don’t take too long, or I’m going to bed.”
“Aye, aye, skipper.”
Kate smacked his rear and smiled as she headed upstairs. Alex locked the gun locker and replaced the key.
Chapter Eight
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Alex’s calf muscles burned as he pushed through the last hill on Harrison Road, turning right onto Durham Road. He slowed his pace after the turn and started walking with his hands clasped together over his head. He preferred not to run in the morning, but he had awoken at five a.m., feeling very anxious, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Not wanting to stare at a computer screen again, he’d decided to run over to Hewitt Park to do some outdoor calisthenics. He left the park with the intention of an easy jog back home, but the temperate, humid morning was perfect for a run.
As he slowed, he saw the Quinns’ garage door start to open. He moved over to the sidewalk on the left side of the road and stopped to let George pull out of the driveway. Rear-assist camera systems were standard equipment on most cars, but it was early and the sun hadn’t yet peeked through the deep orange clouds on the low horizon, so he wasn’t taking any chances. A Honda Odyssey pulled out of the garage bay. Not George. He watched the car back down the driveway and stop even with him at the sidewalk. Sarah Quinn opened the car window.
“Nice run?” she asked. Sarah and her husband were competitive runners well beyond Alex’s league.
Alex answered, his breathing labored from four faster than anticipated miles of running. “Yeah. Not bad, actually. I felt like I was grinding away all of my remaining knee cartilage for the first ten minutes or so, but I felt pretty strong after that. No run for you guys this
He placed the shotgun back on the rack and removed one of the pistols. He pointed the sleek, black .45 caliber Heckler and Koch USP semi-automatic pistol at the floor and pulled the slide back with his left hand. He visually inspected the weapon’s chamber. Clear. He turned around, aiming at a box of Cheez-Its across the basement. Click . He replaced it and grabbed the second pistol.
He cleared the Sig Sauer 9mm pistol and sighted in on the same cracker box. Click . Perfect action. Alex had bought the pistol for Kate before he’d left for Iraq in 2003. While stationed at Camp Pendleton, they had lived off base in Carlsbad, California. He always worried about a home invasion, especially when he was out of town.
He knew she couldn’t effectively use the .45. It was too large and clunky for her small hands, so he’d bought a pistol she could easily handle. The pistol fell far short of Kate’s idea of the perfect farewell gift, given that she was being left on her own to juggle work, a three-year-old son, and a midterm pregnancy, all while her husband invaded Iraq. Less than perfect, actually. The pistol had sat high on a shelf in their bedroom closet, untouched for over six months, until he had returned.
“You still have that one?” Kate asked.
Alex took a quick breath, clearly startled. “Uh huh. This one is yours. You’re just lucky I didn’t give it to you for your birthday.”
“Oh, really? I missed out. Is that what all of the captains’ wives and girlfriends got?”
“Some of them, perhaps.”
Kate seductively raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been waiting for you upstairs.” She briefly caressed his left shoulder and suddenly withdrew her hand. “That is, if you’re done stroking your guns down here.”
Alex put the pistol back in the locker. “Oh, I’m done with them. They were just a little warm up. You know how weapons turn me on.”
“Lock up, kiss the kids goodnight, and meet me upstairs. Don’t take too long, or I’m going to bed.”
“Aye, aye, skipper.”
Kate smacked his rear and smiled as she headed upstairs. Alex locked the gun locker and replaced the key.
Chapter Eight
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Alex’s calf muscles burned as he pushed through the last hill on Harrison Road, turning right onto Durham Road. He slowed his pace after the turn and started walking with his hands clasped together over his head. He preferred not to run in the morning, but he had awoken at five a.m., feeling very anxious, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Not wanting to stare at a computer screen again, he’d decided to run over to Hewitt Park to do some outdoor calisthenics. He left the park with the intention of an easy jog back home, but the temperate, humid morning was perfect for a run.
As he slowed, he saw the Quinns’ garage door start to open. He moved over to the sidewalk on the left side of the road and stopped to let George pull out of the driveway. Rear-assist camera systems were standard equipment on most cars, but it was early and the sun hadn’t yet peeked through the deep orange clouds on the low horizon, so he wasn’t taking any chances. A Honda Odyssey pulled out of the garage bay. Not George. He watched the car back down the driveway and stop even with him at the sidewalk. Sarah Quinn opened the car window.
“Nice run?” she asked. Sarah and her husband were competitive runners well beyond Alex’s league.
Alex answered, his breathing labored from four faster than anticipated miles of running. “Yeah. Not bad, actually. I felt like I was grinding away all of my remaining knee cartilage for the first ten minutes or so, but I felt pretty strong after that. No run for you guys this