Suicide Serial

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Suicide Serial Page 10

by Matthew Boyd


  Henry stood in the doorway, backlit by the remaining sunlight streaming through the clouds. He looked like a menacing shadow and his features no longer appeared human. He again jerked roughly against Jake’s neck as he called out, “Better hurry. He dies in three…”

  Stacey’s hands shook as her resolve weakened. An idea flashed through her mind to shoot through Jake and hopefully take out Henry, but saw Jake’s bullet proof vest and knew she couldn’t do it.

  “Two…”

  Henry’s eyes glowed in the flickering light of the fire that had nearly enveloped the entire fellowship hall. He was past rational thought, lusting only for the completion of his sick fantasy game. He continued his exit, dragging Jake by the neck, closer to the pickup truck that had been parked just outside.

  “One!” Henry shouted, and grinded the barrel of his revolver against Jake’s head, applying pressure to the trigger.

  “Wait!” shouted Stacey.

  She looked defeated, and had finally lowered her weapon. Henry watched with delight as she opened her mouth and closed her eyes. She placed the pistol into her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “No, Stacey! Don’t do it!” screamed Jake at the top of his lungs.

  Just as she was about to pull the trigger, something made a ringing metallic thud like a gong behind Jake. Henry backed away, losing his grip momentarily and stumbled backwards. He grabbed the back of his head and staggered, barely able to stand. He was still clutching the revolver.

  Herbert was standing there looking a bit surprised, holding a shovel with Henry’s blood spattered across it.

  The relief they felt was momentary. Henry growled and drunkenly started to fire his weapon. His arm flailed around as he pulled the trigger. Bullets zinged past them after each loud pop. Jake took one bullet to the abdomen and crumpled over in the parking lot, writhing in pain on his side. The old man dropped the shovel and ducked behind his truck as a bullet struck the fender, leaving a dark hole and stripping away some of the paint.

  Stacey dodged and sought cover behind the edge of the doorframe. She aimed her pistol, her hands now steady. Three well-placed rounds penetrated Henry’s chest in two places and once in the side of his throat. He clapped his free hand against his throat as blood gushed out between his fingers and he went to his knees. A dark red splotch began to spread out across Henry’s black sweatshirt. He looked at Stacey for a moment and then down at his chest. He touched his chest with a blood-stained hand and fell over backwards.

  Stacey ran over to him, kicking the revolver out of his hand.

  “Uhhh…Stacy King…hope you’re happy,” Henry managed to say, warm blood dribbling out of his mouth, his lungs filling up with the stuff. “You helped…create this monster…and…now…” He trailed off, his speech no longer intelligible.

  His eyes rolled back in his head and he shuddered as he took in one last gasp of breath. Finally, Henry Engel was dead and the nightmare was over.

  Chapter 15

  A steady beeping noise roused Jake from his sleep. The lights above him seemed incredibly bright, and he had to squint. Everything was fuzzy and he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to see clearly. The bandage around his head was uncomfortable and itchy.

  The world came into focus and he realized he was in a hospital room, again. Flowers and balloons were everywhere, with big cards that said, “Get Well Soon!” or “Sorry To Hear You’ve Been Feeling Down…” He strained his eyes and could just make out what looked like many handwritten signatures on the cards.

  The last thing he could remember was something hitting him in the gut that felt like a sledgehammer. Henry had managed to place a shot with his .357 that snuck in just under the bottom of his vest’s protection. It had blown a hole clean through him.

  Jake lifted up his hospital gown and saw the new, grisly scar he had added to his collection. He knew that if he kept it up he would eventually end up looking like Frankenstein. The area didn’t hurt though, but he knew it was probably from all of the drugs that were currently being fed into the IV that had been plunged into his arm.

  All he felt was tired and hungry. Two days had passed since he was shot, and he hadn’t had a bite to eat or a sip of water in that time. He leaned over, thumbed the nurse call button on his bed and then rolled onto his back.

  A minute later, a familiar face came through the door. It was the same nurse he had spoken to during his discharge after he had nearly been strangled to death. She laughed as she walked in, shaking her head at him with a moderate, light tone in her voice as she said, “Mr. Harris, something told me I’d be seeing you up here again. Of course, I didn’t really think it would be so soon!”

  “Yep,” Jake said, weakly, “I just couldn’t get enough of the food here.”

  “Well, I’m not the only one you surprised. The surgeon told me that it’s not every day that he gets a patient that has already performed an appendectomy on himself!”

  Jake rubbed the bandaged wound on the lower right side of his abdomen and replied, “Is that where it hit? Man, I guess I should be thankful he didn’t aim a little higher or something.”

  “You were very lucky, Mr. Harris. Now, can I get you anything?”

  “Just some water and some crackers or something, please. I feel like I haven’t eaten for days.”

  “You haven’t,” she said as she walked out the door.

  In moments the nurse returned, placing the items on the bedside table.

  “Your wife and kids are around here somewhere, and your friend, too. I’ll page them to come on up and see you.”

  “Thanks,” Jake said, jamming crackers into his mouth, spraying crumbs all over the sheets.

  He heard the page go out fron the loudspeaker in the hallway. Within a few minutes, his family and Stacey came running into the room.

  “Welcome back to the land of the living, partner!” Stacey said lightheartedly.

  His wife ran over to him, embracing him in a bear hug that he wasn’t sure would ever end. The kids jumped up on the bed, hugging his legs and shouting, “Daddy! You’re awake!”

  Jake smiled and laughed, happy that he was alive and that everyone was safe.

  “I’m guessing we got Henry?”

  “I had no choice, Jake. I had to shoot him. He had already hit you and was just wildly firing his gun in all directions. He went down and the rescue guys had another van there to pick you up before the fire completely burnt the church to the ground.”

  Jake nodded slightly and stared at nothing for a moment, before replying, “What about the school? All the kids ok?”

  “Yeah, there was no bomb at the school. Everyone got evacuated while the bomb squad checked it out. Henry was just bluffing and trying to distract us, and it worked.”

  “What a nightmare, Stacey,” Heather said, holding both of the children beside her.

  “Thank God it’s over,” Stacey said, taking a seat in the ugly green visitor’s chair beside the bed. “I don’t like to think about how it might have ended.”

  Jake took another sip of water and looked out the window. He thought back to rushing into the burning building after Henry and then feeling so helpless to do anything. Henry Engel had made him feel like that twice, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to experience again.

  During times like these he sometimes considered switching to selling life insurance instead of being a homicide detective.

  “Hey! What happened to that old guy, Herbert, after he whacked Henry with the shovel?” asked Jake. “Is he ok? That guy really saved our bacon. I owe him and you my life.”

  Stacey laughed and said, “Oh him, he came by to visit you earlier today but you were still out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so happy. The chief told the mayor what he had done and they’re giving him a key to the city! I didn’t even know they still did that sort of stuff anymore.”

  Jake closed his eyes and tried to imagine Herbert, wearing his pants hitched up past his belly button with suspenders, shuffling slowly across
the stage to receive his key at City Hall.

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  If you found this short novel enjoyable, horrible, or mediocre, please take the time to rate & review it at the electronic publisher from which you purchased it. Feedback is the lifeblood of honing any skill, and I humbly appreciate any that you, dear reader, are willing to give.

  -M. Boyd

  OTHER EBOOKS BY M.BOYD-

  Z.N.A. - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006HPEDLO

  Paul Anderson is having a very bad day.

  So is everybody else.

  The experimental Z.N.A. virus has been turned loose on the world, and humanity's chances of survival are slim to none. As the bodies of the dead are reanimated into fast, insatiable zombies, Paul must band together with a handful of other survivors to stay alive.

  When he discovers that the survivors have all developed strange new abilities, Paul and his friends must fight to discover the secret of the virus and stop the madman who created it.

 

 

 


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