- HubPages»
- Books, Literature, and Writing»
- Commercial & Creative Writing»
- Creative Writing
Blood and Feathers
“John, You stinking son of a bitch. Stop hiding and face me like a real man you desperate rat.”
“I maybe a desperate rat, but I am a pretty coward and smart one and I am not coming out for you and your amigos to gun me down like a dog!” Shouted John as he made a standoff in old man’s Billy hen house.
“Oh yeah, when you robbed that poor old lady and killed her grandson over fifty bucks didn’t you treat them like a dog? Did you think about how you drew her in the street and shot her twice in the back as she tried to escape your dirty demonic hands? But here you are hiding and begging when faced with real men. Come out and get your judgment boy!”
There was an eerie silence as John pondered his next move. He was a cold blooded killer who was causing menace on the west side of the state but was always eluding the police. He robbed and killed before many times but managed to either escape or shoot his way into hiding. But this time things were different. This time he went into the wrong city town who had the right set of police and of course a sheriff who had made his reputation as a tough, devil slaughtering cop. No criminal was too tough for him to take down and he always got the better of his nemesis. He had been shot seven times in the line of duty and still stands tall with his star. He was a feared crime fighter and the city loved him.
“Now listen you son of a bitch. The only reason you are alive in that chicken house is because I don’t want my good friend Billy to lose his God Damn chickens by me and my men bullet. But if you don’t surrender in five minutes I guarantee that when this is over no one will tell if you are a man or chicken when all those guts and feathers become stuck and mixed with your guts and brains. Now you have four minutes to walk out of there and come with us or we will come in to get you” said James Stone.
“Oh. I ain’t going down in no handcuffs copper. You believe you and your men are tough. Well John the Jagger is even tougher. I am going to show you and your bunch of steroid taking uniform poorly paid government assholes what it takes to be a real hero. Ha ha ha ha! John began to laugh.”
“He must be startling mad. There is no way he believes he can escape twelve guns. He must be desperate to die.” Said Deputy Daley.
“Well, you men heard the more than reasonable option I gave this swine. Now listen up. I want three men circle to the back of that barn. Two to either side. Peter, I want you on higher ground up in that tree, bring a rifle and a bright light. You three, we are moving in at the front on my lead.” Commanded the Sheriff.
Let The Bullets Fly
The men gingerly went into place. It was dark and John knew he could probably shoot his way out and escape in the bushes. But the Sheriff knew this too and knew that once he positioned his men right, escaping would be minimal for the criminal. The Sheriff and his men began to move to the front of the barn. John peeped through a crack and saw their movements in the night and all hell broke loose. He had an AK47 assault rifle and two hand guns with enough ammunition to take down a hundred men. He started to fire his rifle at the cops.
“Take cove! Lay flat and shoot back! The Sheriff shouted as his men opened gunshots at the barn shooting desperately as they really did not know where exactly John was shooting from. The Sheriff then signaled the men through radio to move into the back and take him down. John heard movement around the back of the barn, he knew that it must be more cops trying to get to him. But he was still under gunshots coming in at intervals from the front by the Sheriff and his men. He was in a bad situation as he couldn’t sustain the tactics the Sheriff had implemented and then knew that death was his only option. He then bust open the back barn window and began to fire desperately at the cops who hid behind the large trees as they tactically made their way to a point where there bullets would be much more effective. Chicken guts and blood were all over the barn and some on John’s face as bullets ripped through the layers. The cops at the back soon had a good position to open fire at John and this they did. Gunshots rang out has John span from side to side in the Barn trying to take cover. He got hit twice, one in the left shoulder and another in his foot.
“Okay, Sheriff? OK. I Surrender. Please, no more!” he shouted.
“Come out with your hands high above your head without any shirt on!” the Sheriff commanded the criminal.”
“Okay Sir, Okay. I am coming out now. Please don’t shoot.”
John ripped off his bloody shirt and wrapped it up in his hand. He slowly hopped out of the barn as blood spew from his shoulder and his leg. “Okay Sheriff, you got me. I surrender. You and your men are just too good for me” Said john.
“Blake, Jones. Get this asshole in cuffs and search is scrawny looking ass.” Said Stone. But as the deputies walked up to John to arrest him, the shirt he wrapped in his hand had a 357 magnum he pulled out and shouted. “You stinking Sheriff thought it would have been this easy? He fired two shots at the Sheriff which one flew over his head and the other brazing the side of his neck. The Sheriff quickly returned fire with two of his men ripping John’s body into pieces.
“Are you alight Sir? Asked one of the Sheriff deputies?
“Is he dead?” asked the Sheriff.
“Yes, Yes, he is very dead sir.” Replied the deputy.
“Well yes, I am alright son.”
© 2019 Clive Williams