Free The Devil's Right Hand by J.D. Rhoades Page B

the hallway, his life
flowing out of him and onto the floorboards. There was too much
blood gone for any man to survive. Keller looked into the man’s
eyes. Those eyes were becoming more inanimate with each passing
second. The man had lost the strength to scream. At first Keller
thought that a blessing, but the pitiful sight of the man’s mouth
moving, trying to form words was worse. Finally a word came out,
expelled like a sob on the man’s dying breath.
    “ Who...?”Keller didn’t see any need to
answer. There was no one left to hear. Keller heard faraway sirens
drawing closer. Someone had called the cops. There was a shot from
outside, then the sound of glass shattering. Someone swore from
inside the kitchen.
    Keller took stock of the situation. Behind
him were the cops. Before him, there were two men with guns. He
wasn’t sure where they were. For that matter, he wasn’t completely
sure who they were.
    “ Fuck this,” he said out loud. He
started backing down the hallway, sliding on his belly, the shotgun
held out in front of him.
    He felt a sudden touch of metal on the back
of his neck. “Stop there,” a voice said in a soft Spanish
accent.
     
    “ We didn’t mean to kill him,” DeWayne
called out. “I swear it, man. We didn’t know he was carrying a
gun.”
    The figure behind the door made no answer.
DeWayne crouched deeper in the shadows beside the shed. “You can
even have the money back, man, it’s in the bag in the hallway. Just
let me go get some help for my cousin.”
    “ Your cousin’s dead,” came the voice
from inside the house. “I kilt him.”
    DeWayne put a hand to his forehead. “Okay,
man,” he said. “Okay. So we’re, like, even, right? An eye for an
eye?” There was no answer.
    His eyes were more accustomed to the darkness
now. There was a chest-high chain link fence at the back of the
lot, where the yard of the house behind backed up to this one. He
began edging his way back, then leaped up and turned towards the
fence. He threw one leg onto a narrow metal tube running along the
top of the fence and tried to vault over. The metal tube collapsed
under his weight. He landed atop the  points of the chain
link. DeWayne screamed as the crudely twisted ends of wire gouged
him. He dropped the gun. The Indian came running out, firing on the
run. The muzzle flash of his pistol lit up the yard. DeWayne rolled
off the fence and the bullets passed over him. DeWayne sobbed in
fear and rage as he scrambled to his knees. His hand closed over
something hard and metallic. His gun. The shadowy bulk of the big
man was approaching the chain link fence. DeWayne raised the gun
and pulled the trigger again and again, barely aiming. He fired in
blind panic, the muzzle flashes ruining his night vision. “Leave me
alone, you sumbitch,” he screamed. “Just leave me the fuck alone!”
Then he was no longer firing. The firing pin clicked on the empty
chamber. DeWayne tensed, waiting for the bullet that would tear out
his heart or shatter his brain. It never came. There was silence.
His night vision began to return slowly. The big Indian was lying
on the ground. DeWayne leaped to his feet.
     “ Ha-haaaaa !” he crowed in triumph. “I killed you!
I killed you!” He heard the sound of approaching sirens. He threw
down the gun and ran.
     

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    “ I’m not moving,” Keller
said.
    “ Good,” the man behind him said. “Now
slide the shotgun away from you, backwards. I am tired of having
guns pointed at me.”
    Keller shoved the shotgun away from him
across the floor. It slid in the pool of blood, leaving a ripple in
the rapidly congealing liquid.
    “ Now,” the voice said. “Tell me who you
are and why you are here.”
    “ My name’s Keller,” he replied. “I work
for a bail bondsman down in Wilmington. DeWayne Puryear disappeared
a few weeks ago and my boss got a little worried about him showing
up for court.” He paused. “And who are you,” he said, “if you