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Author Topic: The Chase
lancesrealm
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Here is my second short story. In my first story, "Yolanda and the Dragon," I tried to have some character development, and some subtext. There isn't much of that here. It's just a man running for his life.

I have been wondering if I have what it takes to be a writer. That is why I have been writing the short stories. (Plus, it's fun!) I like the stories I have written so far.

I wrote this story in about 2 hours while my dad was taking a nap.

Anyway, let me know what you think of it.

From: Cincinnati | Registered: Jul 2003  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
lancesrealm
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The Chase

If only the third shift supervisor hadn’t called in sick. That meant I had to go down to the warehouse myself to oversee the latest shipment. I didn’t like going to that part of town after dark, but there I was, headed for the warehouse. Then…I turned the corner. The wrong corner.

About 50 feet away stood a man with a gun in his hand, and 3 people (bodies?) lay on the ground in front of him. My eyes got even wider as he looked at me, raising the gun he held. What could I do? I turned and ran.

Quickly I darted back around the corner running as fast as I was able. I could hear his footsteps behind me in the distance. He was running after me! I was in a street with warehouses to either side, running for my life. A few of the warehouses had lights on, giving me enough light to see by. I heard the gunshot as the bullet splintered a small wooden sign to my left. I had to get out of the street! I was too easy a target out in the open.

I jumped up onto a loading dock where the door wasn’t pulled completely down. There was about 2 feet of space between the bottom of the door and the dock. I hit the ground, rolling through the small opening.

Why had he only fired one shot? Was he out of bullets, or was he waiting for a better shot? Did he need to reload? If he did, did he have extra ammunition on him?

The warehouse was mostly empty (no good! No place to hide!) so I ran across the length of the building. I heard him grunt behind me as he crawled through the opening into the warehouse. Why was he chasing me? I couldn’t identify him!

I spied 2 doors as I ran. One was the exit, the other lead into a room (an office?) within the warehouse. I didn’t want to get cornered in an office. Were either of them unlocked? I tried the door to the exit – no good, it wouldn’t budge! Why in the world would they lock the front door but leave the loading dock open? I scrambled to the other door, as another bullet embedded itself in the wall 2 feet to my left. Both shots had missed to the left. Did that mean anything? I didn’t really care which way the bullets went as long as they didn’t hit me.

I twisted the doorknob, yanking the door open. I slammed the door behind me, looking for a lock. Please let there be a lock! Yes! I twisted the lock, hoping it would buy some time.

The door looked sturdy enough, but the hinges were on the outside. He could remove them with a little time, the right tool, and some basic intelligence. Hopefully he lacked at least one of those. Could he shoot the lock? Did that work in real life, or only on TV? I wished I had watched that episode of Mythbusters.

He wasn’t shooting through the door – did that mean a limited supply of bullets? When was the last time I told my wife I loved her?

I looked around – no exit! There was just a table, a chair, and a small file cabinet. I heard the doorknob rattle and a thump as he pushed his weight against the door.

“Just a matter of time, man,” I heard him say. Judging by the flimsy construction or the door jamb, I was afraid he was right. The door wouldn’t last long.

I looked around, searching for a way out. There was a small air vent that didn’t even have a cover. Was it big enough? I pushed the small table beneath the vent and climbed up. Lucky for me I was fairly small; I could just wiggle into it. Using every muscle I had plus a healthy dose of will power, I was making progress through the vent, getting a face full of spiderwebs in the process. I banged my head into the duct in front of me. Did the vent end? That made no sense. Yes, there it was, a turn to the right. I tried to make the turn in the duct as I heard a crash behind me. He was through the door!

I finally bent my body enough to make the turn in the ductwork. Then I heard creaking metal behind me. He was coming after me through the vent! Why didn’t he just shoot? Was it too dark for him to see me?

My whole body was finally around the turn when I felt a hand grab me by the ankle.

“Let me go!” I yelled as I tried to kick, realizing how irrational my request was. I kicked again, and felt my foot hit something that yielded. I heard his cry of pain as I hoped I had kicked him in the head. I must have hurt him, because his hand loosed its grip on my ankle.

“You gonna pay for that, man…”

“I probably will,” I thought, crawling as fast as I could. I heard him behind me, crawling slowly through the ductwork.

Where was his gun? If he had kept it in his hands, he could have shot me by now. He must have shoved it in his pants, or wherever people carry guns. Did that mean he was out of ammo, or did he just think he needed both hands free to get through the ductwork? One of those had to be true. Should I just stop crawling? There was no way he could reach his gun if it wasn’t in his hands; the duct wasn’t big enough. NO no no! There wasn’t anything to stop him from backing out and re-entering with his gun in front of him I had to keep going.

My right hand pawed empty air. I was through! I could barely see – how far was it to the floor? If it was like the room I had entered, it should only be about an 8-foot drop. I pulled my body free of the duct, twisting as I fell, trying to land on my feet.

Yes! Not far to fall at all! I was up in an instant, racing for the door. I heard him start to pull himself out as well. Should I just stay, and ambush him as he fell? No! I had never been in a fight in my life. I doubted that was true of my pursuer. Besides, he was armed with at least a gun, and maybe a knife as well.

By now I could see well in the dim light. A door! I sprinted for it! Only after reaching it did I realize it wasn’t an exit, but a freight elevator. I had no time to look for another way out, so I scrambled in and hit the “UP” button. The elevator had a wooden floor, but the sides were only a wire mesh.

The mesh doors closed, and I heard cables groan I was pulled up. I dropped to the floor to conceal myself better as I saw him running to the elevator.

My cell phone! Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I pulled it from its holster and dialed 911. The elevator reached the top and the doors opened. I scrambled out, pushing a small box I saw into the elevator to keep the doors from closing. If the doors couldn’t close, the elevator wouldn’t go back down, would it? I hoped not.

“911, please hold,” came a recorded voice over the phone. I looked for somewhere to hide. Nothing, just an open storage area with a few boxes, a window, and…the top of the stairs. How long would it take him to find the stairs? I set the phone down and grabbed a box (Yes! It was heavy!) and hurled it through the window. Glass shattered onto the street, leaving an opening big enough for me. I picked up my cell phone and peered out of the window. Only about 20 feet to the ground. That probably wasn’t far enough to kill me, as long as I didn’t land on my head.

I heard footsteps on the stairs. It had to be now! As I jumped, I heard a voice, “911, what is your emergency?”

I landed and rolled, just like I thought I was supposed to. I must have done it right, because I didn’t even sprain my ankle. My phone! Where was it?! I had lost it in the fall. I looked around as a face appeared in the window. I yelled “Help!” as I took off running. No time to find the phone, but maybe the person on the other end could hear me. Maybe they would trace the call. Too many maybes.

Would he jump out after me, or go back down the stairs? Had I gained some time? I rounded a corner into…a dead end. I suddenly realized how appropriate that term might be.

There were walls (and no doors!) on 3 sides, so I started back the way I came…then I stopped.

He was walking slowly towards me, gun in hand. Was it a revolver or an automatic? How many shots did he have left? Had he reloaded? I wondered these things, realizing one bullet would be enough. I backed up slowly, even though there was nowhere to go. I remembered reading somewhere that most people were as accurate with a gun as they were with a baseball. Was it true? How many shots did he have?

“Nice try, man,” he said as he raised the pistol. He was only about 30 feet away.

I crouched, making myself a smaller target. I figured a moving target had to be harder to hit, so I prepared to spring to one side or the other. His other shots had missed to the left, so I supposed I should break to the right.

“Over now though, man.” I lurched to the right as 2 shots rang out. I felt a searing pain in my right shoulder and my right arm went numb. I fell to the pavement, knowing it was over. “My wife and 2 girls,” I thought, as I heard footsteps approach.

I looked up, wanting to see the end coming. A policeman was kneeling down. I saw another policeman over the prostrate form or my pursuer. He hadn’t fired 2 shots after all, only one. The second shot had come from a policeman’s weapon.

“Sir, an ambulance is on its way. You’re hit in the shoulder, but I think you’re gonna be ok.”

I whispered, “Stupid. My right was his left. Should…have gone the other way.” Then I passed out.


**********


His name was Mike Matthews. He had a record of armed robbery and drug dealing. He had just killed 3 people in a drug deal. And now he’s dead. As far as I am concerned, the world is a better place.

The doctors tell me the wound in my shoulder isn’t serious. I told them to take a bullet in the shoulder and then tell me that. They laugh, and then tell me it could have been a lot worse.

Yes. Yes, it could have.

The police did trace the call, after all. Lucky for me there was a squad car nearby. Lucky they found me. Lucky they didn’t arrive 30 seconds later. People who win the lottery aren’t as lucky as I was.

I make it a point to tell my wife and daughters every day that I love them. My older daughter will wrinkle her nose and moan, “Dadddyyy!” I don’t care; she’s still going to hear it.

My priorities are different now, too. Everyone should have to run for their life at least once. Do you have to think you are going to die before you can see what’s really important? Maybe so.

I hope my end is a long way off. It feels that way. It feels like my life is just beginning.

[ December 09, 2011, 09:59 AM: Message edited by: lancesrealm ]

From: Cincinnati | Registered: Jul 2003  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
lancesrealm
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Not to sound needy (which I am,) but did no one read my story, or did everyone hate it?
From: Cincinnati | Registered: Jul 2003  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Eryk Davis Ester
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I haven't read it. Will try to get to it soon.
From: Liberty City | Registered: Jul 2003  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
lancesrealm
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Just to be clear, it is ok to be critical. I'm not that needy!
From: Cincinnati | Registered: Jul 2003  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
   

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