The 24th Letter ((Mystery/Thriller))

by Tom Lowe

  I walked to the right rear tire where the pistol lay gleaming in the sun.

  “Look out!” the warning came from one of the women in the car.

  I saw the shadow in front of me. As I turned, the man charged, kicking me in the rib cage. I felt the air in my lungs exit like a popped balloon. “You’re a fuckin’ dead man!” he screamed as he ran by me, ran between moving cars across the lot.

  I stood, holding my side, the air coming in one big heave as my lungs refilled. I heard the roar of a motorcycle, and then I saw chrome and leather move between the long rows of parked cars. The man was doing more than sixty miles an hour in a parking lot as he wove around shoppers, pulled out into traffic on the busy road, and was gone.

  At that moment, I thought of Max. Thought of her little bladder and how long I might be away.