by William Bebb
Shoemaker slowly and warily crept to the roadside and watched as the cruiser stopped near the utility building and was just beginning to smile when the sound of multiple gunshots rang out.
No. Oh no, come on. This shit ain't even close to being funny, he thought, as someone jumped out of the distant car. He shook his head as the car started forward again and then the siren began blaring. The interior was hard to make out, but he saw a shadowy figure in the passenger seat reaching out of the window.
Shoemaker held the shotgun and squatted behind the rusty van, more than ready to catch a ride out of what he considered to be a nightmare disguised as a trailer park.
The car was moving erratically as it came closer. It sped up then slowed down and swung wildly left and right.
It reminded Shoemaker of kids driving bumper cars. He had a very bad feeling.