He drove past several homes where some residents were sitting outside in lawn chairs sipping on beer, and others BBQing and playing loud country music. They didn’t even give him a passing glance as he rolled past.
Several kids on bicycles shot out in front of him and sped off between homes.
A dog appeared off to the right barking at the SUV only to be pulled back by a thick chain.
It didn’t take him long to find 43. Its blue paneled wood stuck out like a sore thumb among the many cream-colored and brown homes. In and out, he told himself as he parked outside and gave a quick scan of the lot. Jack knew the moment they saw him they would bolt. Climbing a few wooden steps leading up to the main door, he glanced in the window that was covered by a smoke-yellowed drape. He couldn’t hear movement. Had they already seen him? Jack got a firm grip on his weapon, drew back his foot and plowed it into the door, causing it to burst inward and the frame to explode. He entered almost instantly as the door burst open, and swept the gun to his right and left.
Immediately to his left was the living room with a kitchen. The coffee-stained table had several empty boxes of pizza, a cluster of open beer bottles, and crumbs. Jack saw a cockroach scuttle off the table. The kitchen cupboards were a sickly pink color, the ceiling stained by cigarette smoke with a single light bulb hanging down. The sink was loaded with crusted plates, and coffee mugs. He pressed into an area containing a large red leather couch, pink drapes, and photos of naked women on the walls. Jack stared at a coffee table with a bag of weed, and a few lines of coke. There was drug paraphernalia spread out nearby. The whole place reeked like a cow farm. Jack backed up and went past the kitchen area into a narrow corridor, aware that if they were hiding he would have little to protect himself if they came out firing blindly.
He cleared the bedroom, which amounted to nothing more than a double mattress on the floor with a duvet. Again, the place was filthy with crushed beer cans, tissues and newspapers everywhere. How the hell did anyone live in these kinds of conditions? He ducked out and continued down the dimly lit corridor. At the far end was the bathroom, which took nasty to a whole new level. The linoleum was warped from water damage, the once white bathtub worn out and encrusted with dirt. Jack didn’t even bother to lift the lid on the toilet, the smell of feces lingered.
He was just about to turn back into the corridor when he heard the sound of boots. Jack turned to see a blur of black. He broke into a sprint and emerged from the infested hellhole to feel the air change as a bullet snapped past his head. Jack launched himself over the wooden staircase outside, hit the ground and used the back portion as cover while he tried to get a bead on the gunman.
Again he heard the sound of running though this time on gravel. He squinted as he peered through slatted wood to see his attacker making a break for it across the asphalt.
Jack scrambled to his feet and took off in pursuit.
As he came onto the road, both of them were heading in different directions. One of them turned and fired a round at him but Jack took cover behind a neighbor’s Jeep. The sound of bullets ricocheting and glass shattering took over, and then it went quiet. Instead of pursuing the gunman he went after the one that hadn’t taken a shot. He’d seen him go east, sprinting between mobile homes.
Jack ran in a slightly different direction with the hope of cutting him off. After running for several minutes he spotted him looking over his shoulder in the direction he’d come, except Jack wasn’t coming up directly behind, he was parallel to him.
He saw the guy explode out onto another small road between the next line of mobile homes and that was when he slowed his pace waiting for him to run down to where he was. The guy didn’t know what hit him. One second he was looking over his shoulder, and the next rolling on the ground after Jack charged into him coming out from behind a home. The two of them rolled down an embankment until they collided with a boulder. Fortunately the guy’s back took the brunt of it. He let out a groan and Jack was on him like a lion. Jack began strangling the man as he tried desperately to get out from his grip. But it was useless. He was seconds away from snuffing out his light when his buddy emerged over the rise between the road and embankment with a gun aimed at Jack.
“Let him go.”
“It’s not happening,” Jack replied.
“I will end you right here.”
“If you were going to do that you would have done it earlier, or maybe you’re just a lousy shot. Let’s see, shall we?”
“He’s my brother, let him go.”
“Did you let Tyson go?”
The slick-haired Mexican fella with a tattoo of a spider on his neck struggled within his grasp.
“We were only doing what we were told by Pope.
