Free Ashes to Ashes by Nathaniel Fincham Page A

air could sustain his punctured lung, Trevor and Scott
went tumbling to the ground.
    Scott landed on his back and held on tight to
the butt of the pistol, using his free hand to punch at Trevor, who
had landed on top of him. The first punch missed but the second
swing landed against the ebony skin of the man’s cheek. Scott heard
the man groan and immediately thought about a follow up blow, but
the dark skinned man quickly wrapped his hands around Scott’s
throat and squeezed down tight. Scott felt his breath get trapped
inside his throat. His mind began to fog up and his vision began to
blur. Scott knew, however, that choking someone was always a
desperate move, showing him that Trevor didn’t have anything to
resort to besides desperate methods. Trevor definitely did not have
a weapon anywhere on him or else he would be trying to use it.
    Scott tried to focus. He was the only one
with a gun. And as long as the piece of deadly design remained in
his grip, he had the control. Instead of punching again with his
free hand, he tried to position the gun against the Trevor’s head.
The thug felt the barrel brush against his temple and withdrew a
hand from Scott’s throat to swat at the pistol. The gun was
immediately knocked away from Scott's obviously loosened grasp,
tumbling away from the grappling pair.
    Trevor watched it fall and at once began to
scramble for it, but Scott was stronger and managed to quickly
scramble across the ground and trip up the man by grabbing a hold
of his ankle. Using his upper body strength, Scott managed to pull
the man back his direction, away from the gun. After gaining a
tight hold on the man’s leg and dark clothing, Scott tangled Trevor
up. Scott was then able to get level with the dark man’s backside
in order to administer a reverse bear hug. Frantically trying to
get to the gun, the dark thug responded by sinking his teeth into
Scott's arm. The teeth went in deep. Surprised, Scott's hold
slacked and Trevor was able to squirm his way free.
    Instead of trying to grapple the man again,
Scott quickly sprang to his feet with a back handspring, something
he learned and perfected during basketball practice. As Trevor
reached the gun, but before he fully had the weapon in hand, Scott
struck him hard with the tip of his tennis shoe. He kicked him a
second time in the chest and felt a rib fracture, forcing the thug
to cry out in pain.
    Taking the gun, Scott considered his options.
The man was injured and no longer posed a threat. But the thug
would be a threat to someone else down the line. He needed to kill
him before he hurt or killed someone else stupid enough to pass by
or even stop at the park. He was conflicted but only for an
instant. After that instant had gone, Scott shot the man twice in
the face, guaranteeing his demise.
    Running over to the other man, he looked down
and watched the dying man’s struggled gasps, which failed to bring
oxygen fully into the injured lung. Scott felt slight pity for the
wounded assailant, whatever his name might have been. There
wouldn’t be any ambulance coming the man’s way, no savior to the
rescue. The thug was dead as soon as Scott’s bullet hit him. He
just wasn’t going peacefully. He shot him in the head, rather than
letting his attacker continue to suffer slowly and painfully. It
was the only help that he could offer.
    “Fuck! Shit! God damn it!” Two more dead
bodies that the police would never see as self-defense, he
admitted. Unless. Scott put down the gun and took off his coat,
while eyeing the newly formed spots of wet crimson. He knelt down
next to the man he had just killed and forced the coat onto
him.
    Colder than ever, he turned and ran across
the remaining length of the park. He did not reacquire the handgun
but let it lay. He didn't want the weapon anymore. It brought
nothing but death, which, as Scott knew, was its reason for
existing. The police would match the bullets to all three victims
in time anyway. He chose to save them