Two
Dean Huntler lay on his chaise longue with legs outstretched. The pain
from the injury had subsided eventually but the skin still needed to heal
and the stitch he had done had helped. He was sunk in his thoughts as he
recalled how he had been shot the other day and save for a thing or two,
he would have killed in real sense.
That morning, he had woken up early, splashed water on his body and face
and hurriedly consumed baked muffins with a glass of lemonade. The
clothes in his wardrobe were all neatly ironed and hanging and he was out
of options. However, his favorite shirt was peeking at him from the corner
of the wardrobe and he quickly slid into the denim jacket and pulled a pair
of jeans over the lower part of his body and left. In some minutes, he had
arrived at the CUPPS Groceries Supermarket in his Dodge Challenger at exactly the speed limit of the city. This was his rule when he was touring
the city but when he went interstate, there was nothing he could do to
stop himself from almost launching the car into space.
The CUPPS was located on E17th Street and was highly patronized. It was
among the new stores on the Avenue which had a large parking lot with a
capacity to accommodate up to fifty cars at once. No one could tell who
really owned it as most people they found around managing the sales were
not regulars. It seemed like a new company had come into town, set it up
and every day, sent different staffs to go handle the day’s activities.
Dean in a bid to avoid the hustle and bustle when exiting the parking lot
had his car parked on the sidewalk close to a nearby cafe. He got into
CUPPS and grabbed all he felt would be necessary for an ex-con to
replenish her lost body nutrients and keep her in good state of mind and
body. Music streamed into his ears from earphones as he took out a
product, aimed like a basketball player and threw it into the cart which was
standing at a distance. After completing a perfect square round the shelves,
he rolled his cart over to the counter and handed them to the salesgirl for
his bill.
With his elbow on the counter, his eyes darted around the store
searchingly and something caught his attention.
Two middle aged lads were standing in the doorway in a nasty argument.
Argument turned insult and this resulted in a collar tussle. They were both
at each other's throat and things began to turn worse when one of them
slammed his rival’s back into a wall and was building up his fist for a punch
which was in the process of being launched. Then Dean stepped in. If he
hadn't been quick enough to prevent the already ensuing fight, more harm
would have been done and blood would definitely spill.
A scream of terror broke the already diffusing brawl which was followed by
screams of women and screeches of tires. His earphones were dangling
from his neck now and he heard the noise clearly. Before anyone could e?it
the supermarket, he ran out first and saw the assailed vehicle as it swerved
roughly and hit a streetlamp. Watching a lot of action movies had obviously
been of help to him as he could have guessed as much that the bullet had come from above. ?ith that, he observed the surrounding rooftops
closely and sighted a figure hurrying down a fire escape.
The scene was on the Avenue Y and E17th intersect so Dean had trouble
running across the road as vehicles were parked roughly, here and there.
Running his hand through his long wavy hair, he bolted for the fire escape
and was in time to see the assassin curve into an alley.
It was a young lad, probably in his late twenties? dark skinned and had
dreadlocks swimming all over his shoulders. ?e was putting on sleeveless
body warmer and black hipsters with black sneakers to match. An
instruments bag with a D&? logo printed on it, hung from his shoulders
and he was walking hastily with his eyes darting from left to right.
No one had to tell Dean this was his man.
?e had not taken up to thirty steps when Dean rushed into the alley with
a spade which he picked from a wheelbarrow. Dean, without having a
thought or plan bawled at the top of his voice.
“?ey, you… Stop there!!”
The assassin upon hearing that and without looking back ?uickly broke into
a run with Dean in hot pursuit. ?e probably thought it was the police and
if he was not fast enough, the pursuer could gun him down. Still running,
the instrument bag began weighing him down and he heard the footfalls
closing in on him. A choice had to be made. It was either he lost his
‘instruments’ or kill this motherfucker. The latter was chosen.
An une?pected and ?uick movement got the assassin into a forward-roll as
he drew out a Beretta 92 in the same instant and let loose a slug which
gra?ed Dean and sent him crashing into a recycle bin. The gun had roared
since it was not silencer fitted and any nosey cop could have heard it and
made his way into the alley. The assassin didn't have the time to go finish
up this self-employed vigilante so he just got up and disappeared.
Dean lay in the rubbish as his blood began flowing and drenching his
clothes. Drawing out his face towel, he pressed it hard against the bleeding
and managed to hobble back to his black Challenger and drove home.
END OF CHAPTER TWO; PART ONE
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