Fuzzy Navel

12:17 A.M.
KORK

I’M STILL SEEING STARS from where Jack popped me in the nose, but I don’t let it slow me down. I run around the back of the house, adrenaline pumping, rounding the other side, sprinting straight for the Bronco. I quickly look back, see that Jack is fifty yards behind me.

She’s per sis tent. I’ll give her that.

She also has a bigger gun, and by now so does everyone in the house. I’ve got to get the hell out of here.

I slide on my belly across the hood of the truck and through the broken windshield. I wiggle myself into the driver’s seat, push the key in the ignition, and have a bad moment when the truck doesn’t turn over.

It’s the battery.

I check to my right. Jack has stopped less than thirty yards away. She’s in a shooter stance, aiming the big Desert Eagle at my head.

I kill the headlights, press the gas pedal, and crank it again.

The truck roars to life. I make a U-turn, burning rubber on the street and kicking up dirt and grass when the wheels go off the road.

I duck down right before Jack puts three shots into the driver’s-side window, peppering me with bits of glass. I keep the pedal pressed down, feel the tires grip the asphalt again, and continue to stay low until I’m at least two hundred yards away.

I tap the brakes when the road reaches an end, jerk the wheel right, and speed down the street and through a green light. Then I force myself to slow down.

I raise a hand to my nose, wipe away some blood, and it causes a spike of pain. I check the glove compartment, find a box of tissues, and wedge a wad up each nostril even though it makes my eyes water.

It hurts. But my ego hurts more. I had her. Had her. But when it came time to punch her clock, I got greedy and tried to draw out the moment, talking when I should have been pulling the trigger.

It’s not entirely my fault. There were unforeseeable circumstances. If it weren’t for those idiot snipers, I’d still be back at the house, controlling the situation, having some fun.

But what’s done is done. No point dwelling on the past.

Besides, this isn’t over yet.

Not by a long shot.