Shots Fired in the Melting Pot

by T. C. Clover

several display racks with fishing poles and kayaks. Although his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, he stumbled several times over boxes and steel shelving units. In his mind, these small sacrifices were worth the effort, because CKB knew that the gunman below would soon exit from his hiding place.

  Once CKB reached the far right side of the room, he tossed aside some archery targets that were covering up a pair of decorative windows. He then twisted his head to the right when noticing how small the windows were in comparison to his memories of them. Every part of him was protesting the concept of leaping off of the floor to climb out of windows that were only two feet high and positioned near the roof of the building. CKB gripped the steel baseball bat with both hands and smashed the glass out of the window frame from the outside edges inward. The decorative glass was thick and broke into sharp pieces that spun on the smooth hardwood flooring. Cody unclipped the small camera from the collar of his shirt and put it back in the case, which he stuffed into his right pocket.

  After clearing pieces of glass from the windows, CKB removed his black muscle shirt and used it to wipe away loose shards and particles from the black steel frame. He then whipped his shirt in the air a few times to free it from debris and pulled it back over his powerful torso. With the window frame free of sharp objects, he was able to stand on the tips of his toes and thrust the baseball bat through the small space. CKB pulled the steel cylinder tight against the outside of the building and used it as a handle to haul himself up. His left foot anchored him away from the wall, and he leveraged his considerable upper body strength to pull himself through the window on the right.

  The television star froze when he heard the sounds of heavy footsteps thundering up the stainless steel staircase less than thirty yards from his position. CKB’s gaze shifted to a distinct shadow cast on the interior wall by his body and the baseball bat. He bit his lip with regret, realizing that his figure had become the easiest target in the world; a moving shadow outlined by a rectangle of sunlight. If he didn’t escape soon, Mitch would make him disappear with his other victims.

  The athletic man felt his legs dangling above emptiness when he emerged fifteen feet above the ground. CKB was forced to grip the edge of the window frame and let go of the baseball bat. The television star felt fresh cuts in his hands and fingers despite all he had done to clean the sleek, black surface. There was a dull ringing sound when the baseball bat bounced on the concrete slabs below, and the daylight blinded him.

  Although he wished for more time to plan his descent, the pain in his fingers was too irritating. Cody let his body hang from the full length of his arms and then dropped the remaining ten feet. He allowed his knees to take most of the impact with the cement, but it connected harder with his body than anticipated. This impact forced his rear end and lower back to smack the solid surface while his body rolled backward until he was lying flat.

  CKB detected alarming pain shooting through the center of his anus and lower back. While he was grateful that his head was uninjured during the fall, the pain from his tailbone didn’t seem to be a fair tradeoff. The uneasy man took a few deep breaths and inspected the cuts on his hands. He gazed up at the window high above him and shook his head at his apparent lack of sanity. Experience told him that the gunman in the warehouse wouldn't bother poking his head through the window for fear of becoming an easy target. Nobody wanted to die for a pitiful hourly wage.

  Cody reached out with his right hand and felt a large piece of glass on the concrete. He pulled his arm away with an immediate sense of danger and decided to use his stomach muscles to get to his feet. The television star felt hellish bells of pain ringing in his anus again as he rolled his body upward from the ground. CKB used his legs to steady himself and rose to his feet. Although he wanted to take a moment to rest, he knew that time was against him and started to weigh his options. As he was contemplating his situation, he removed the small camera from the hard case in his right pocket and clipped it back onto his shirt.

  The criminal leaned down to pick up the baseball bat and looked to his right toward the loading docks at the rear of the warehouse. This option was appealing, but the area had security cameras and was monitored by guards. CKB gazed at the building next door and tried to find a point of entry; however, it only presented another fifteen-foot surface of faded steel panels. The adept man sighed and heaved his shoulders with reluctance, deciding that the front parking lot was his best escape route.

  When he reached the corner of the warehouse, CKB peered around it to scope out the situation. There was a large black pickup truck parked at an angle fifteen feet in front of the building on the cement pads with its engine running. Cody saw two men leaning over the bed of the truck with black semiautomatic pistols in each of their hands. He crouched and sprinted toward the driver side of the vehicle, hearing gunfire ricochet off of the concrete. The television star began to run a zigzag pattern when he approached the truck, throwing off the aim of his enemies. His body rocketed toward the large vehicle, building momentum for a running leap, which allowed him to find cover behind the unit.

  CKB ignored the scrapes and pain in his bones after his body dropped to the cement a second time. He used his powerful abdominal muscles to rise from the ground and sneaked into the cab of the truck through the driver door.

  “Why the hell did you leave the truck running?” A tall brown-haired gunman shouted at his stout companion.

  “I didn’t know he could run that fast! It would have been easier just to shoot him, throw him in the bed, cover him up and then take off to the cemetery!” The shorter man exclaimed and clutched the top of his shiny bald head. “I mean he just…shot out of there like a damn circus performer. And I didn’t think he’d be coming from the alley.”

  Cody put the automatic transmission into drive mode, checked the parking brake, and then slammed on the gas pedal after verifying that the brake wasn’t engaged. The vehicle roared to life, and its tires squealed across the concrete, producing small wisps of steam.

  When the truck lurched forward, both gunmen stepped aside, and the taller of the two took aim at the rear of the cab. His brown eyes watched the driver’s head, and he sensed his insides going calm in preparation to fire.

  “Don’t shoot at my truck!” The bald crook warned his companion and swatted the taller man’s forearms to throw off his aim. “That’s an eighty-thousand-dollar truck! You don’t need to shoot at it; we can find him later.”

  “You better hope you’re right,” his taller colleague answered in pronounced disagreement. “If Mitch finds out that your truck was more important than getting this done…I wouldn’t wanna’ be you.”

  “Where’s he gonna’ go, huh?” The shorter man prompted with his arms outstretched. “I have a GPS unit welded into the frame of that truck. It would let me find him at a gas station in China if I wanted. So relax, I think Mitch just wants him to have the fear of God again – the guy is getting too loose.”

 

  Mount Sinai Hospital – Brooklyn, New York

 

  “Are you sure these are the guys that shot Stoney?” Troy Mickelson prompted Cody for confirmation as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It looks like you’ve had one hell of a day,” the tall blonde said as he watched CKB through his blue eyes with admiration.

  “I think so,” CKB uttered with a demeanor of caution. “There’s a chance that Hector and The Templars were involved, but after all this, I doubt it.”

  “No, Hector and his lieutenants are caught up in a pseudo civil war,” the police officer explained in a discreet manner. “Your video didn’t do him any favors.”

  CKB was standing in a busy emergency room hallway next to Stoney’s younger partner from the police precinct. The man was lean with spiked blonde hair but seemed to have good judgment for his age. Although their impromptu meeting had been short and interrupted by constant hospital codes from loudspeakers, Troy was able to lear
n a great deal. Cody had shown the officer text messages from his employer and allowed him to watch the video that his phone captured from the incident.

  “Is that everything?” Troy asked after he finished watching the video.

  “No, there’s a stolen truck in the parking lot,” CKB admitted with a smirk and dangled a set of keys in front of the officer. “I hope you can make that disappear. How is Stoney doing?” He asked with genuine empathy, bracing himself for bad news as Troy took the keys from his hand.

  “Well, the bastards shot him with a high-powered rifle, but the round didn’t get through his breastplate,” the policeman confirmed with a smile. “It did break two of his ribs; they’re patching him up now, and he should be able to get back to your TV show in a few hours. Go ahead and say hello,” he said with a friendly expression, and reached out with his right hand toward the criminal.

  CKB held his breath when the uniformed lawman offered to shake his hand, but he decided that diplomacy was the best option and friends like this would be useful.

  “Thanks again for taking the risk so that we could get these guys,” Troy said in the spirit of comradery as the two men shook hands. “I’m on my way to make it happen.”