and she wondered if they were in the cabin. Hearing a twig snap, she pivoted to see Leland Ticholet, stark naked except for the ballistic vest. He stood not ten feet away, aiming Kennedy’s rifle at her head. She froze. Leland’s wild eyes were burning like coals. Silver shells with black heads and yellow plastic points radiated from his mouth like talons. Alexa could see his finger in the guard as he squeezed the trigger once, and then again. She read the sudden slacking of his facial muscles when nothing happened, and she realized that there was no shell in the chamber.
Howling, Leland threw the weapon at her like a spear, then darted past her, zigzagging through the brush. She raised the Mossberg and fired twice.
“Alexa!” Bond’s voice called out from the radio’s speaker.
Fingers trembling, she keyed her radio. “Larry. I’m okay.”
“You get him?”
“I tried. He ran off. How’s Kennedy?”
“Alive. Leland hit him good in the head, but he’s got a strong pulse. I’m coming back now. Wait for me.”
“Okay,” she said.
Alexa looked at Manseur, whose eyes were open now. He had drawn his Glock and was aiming in the direction Leland had run. Leland had to be stopped.
“Wait for Kennedy,” she told Manseur. He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut when the pain hit him. Reloading as she walked, Alexa took off after her quarry.
91
The detective with the rifle passed by where he was lying in the brush, and had moved into the foliage before Leland saw him, and by then it was too late to shoot him. Leland moved as soon as he could do so without the rifleman hearing him. He’d gone around through the cover behind the cabin, sneaking up easily on the woman cop. Surprisingly, the man he’d shot in the head was very much alive, but hurt bad enough not to be a threat.
Leland had moved in close to them and had aimed at the woman before she knew he was there. He’d deliberately stepped on the dry branch so she would turn and see it coming. Surprised, she hadn’t immediately raised her shotgun, and he had her nailed. He pulled the trigger, and nothing. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t worked the bolt, but what with being hit, he’d forgotten all about it. And he had left the pistol he’d gotten off the cop behind. Now he was unarmed, and running like a wild animal.
He was halfway to the point where he would have to swim to get away when he ran right past something that stopped him. A pump-gun was propped against a tree. He grabbed it up. Resting the butt on his leg, he pushed back the slide. A spent shell popped out. Putting the stock between his feet to hold it, he pulled the slide forward, feeding a shell into the chamber. He knelt and aimed at the sound of the cop coming, right toward him. In his mind he saw exactly how her severed head would hit the ground before her corpse collapsed beside it.
John Ramsey Miller
Too Far Gone
92
Shotgun primed and at the ready, Alexa moved swiftly toward the point. She was almost to the tree where Manseur had been wounded, when sensing-rather than seeing-Leland, she stopped abruptly and dropped to her knees. Leland’s shotgun exploded, and she saw the bright blast from the muzzle. She felt the windblast as the buckshot passed inches from her scalp.
Without hesitating, Alexa shouldered and pointed her shotgun at the kneeling figure now silhouetted against the water, exhaling to steady herself. As she aimed at him, Leland Ticholet’s image morphed into that of a silhouette target-the only target Alexa had ever fired a round into. I will kill him. I will kill him. I will…
Holding on to the slide, Leland stood, jerked the shotgun violently in one hand, feeding in another round, dropped the gun into the same hand so he was gripping it like a pistol, finger in the guard, barrel rising up from his waist.
Watch the pellets hit him!
Alexa’s shotgun roared.
The recoil shoved her shoulder back sharply, the barrel rising so she couldn’t see the buckshot hit Leland. He fell back, and impacted the ground like a tree falling. Jacking in a fresh round, she slid toward the mud-encrusted bottoms of his feet.
Leland’s arms were outstretched, and the vest he was wearing was dotted with shiny lead pellets. His eyes were open. The fingers of his right hand moved as though he were beckoning a child. Trembling, Alexa aimed the barrel of her gun at his head.
Leland coughed and his eyes began to gain focus.
Without saying anything, Alexa kicked the shotgun away from him.
Leland stared up at her.
“Do it!” Larry Bond urged as he ran up.
She shook her head reluctantly.
“Then step aside,” Bond told her. He was holding his rifle pointed at Leland’s chest.
“No,” Alexa said.
“Step aside. I’m going to send this murdering piece of shit to hog heaven.”
“Cuff him,” she said.
“He killed Boudreaux. He shot Michael. He caved in Kennedy’s skull. He’s not walking out of here.”
Leland looked at Bond. He said hoarsely, “Fuck you, pussy-ass.”
“Leland Ticholet, you are so under arrest,” Alexa said.
“He’ll go to a nuthouse,” Bond growled. “He’s nuts. He’s got to go, here and now.”
“It’s not our call,” Alexa said, moving between the two men, her shotgun aimed at Leland’s head.
“Get out of the way!” Bond barked.
“If you kill this man, I’ll make sure you go to jail. I don’t think you’re willing to kill me just so you can kill him, Larry.”
Angrily, Bond shouldered the rifle by its sling and yanked out his handcuffs. He snapped one of the cuffs on Leland’s right wrist, grabbed him by his ear, lifted him into a seated position, then cuffed his wrists together behind his back. Bond put his own hands under Leland’s armpits and lifted him to his bare feet. Once Leland was upright, Bond retightened the tourniquet. “Keep this tight, you piece of shit, or you’ll bleed to death.”
“You shot me, but you can’t shoot worth a piss, you dog pussy bitch,” Leland told Bond.
“I may shoot you for keeps, you naked piece of shit,” Bond roared.
“I doubt you can even hit me from there.”
Bond said, “You have the right to remain silent and I suggest you do just that, you ignorant killer swamp monkey. You have the right to a poorly skilled attorney and to have the prick present during questioning. If you cannot afford one, which is as obvious as your limp dick, one will be appointed for you at no cost. Do you understand these rights, like I give a shit?”
“I understand you bastards owe me a new boat,” Leland said. “You think you can come to a man’s place and burn his boat, you’re the limp dick.”
Shaking her head slowly, Alexa picked up Manseur’s shotgun. She carried it over her left shoulder as they made their way back to the cabin.
93
