(Copyright 2015 St Rooster Books)
In the car Daily called another highway patrolman named Walter Andrews and told him to meet him at the Kwicky Burger. Andrews had been at Finney’s house at the beginning, but got called away to work a multi-car accident.
They drove out to Finney’s house in Daily’s car and stopped behind Porter’s car.
“Bill, that house got searched top to bottom. Only thing been killed there were some cats and dogs.”
“Yea, yea…he didn’t kill people here though. Killed’em in their houses.”
“We searched his vehicles and storage unit down town.”
“Well. We gonna go knock? Or should we call back up?”
“We can take Finney. If this is what it might be, shoot to kill. I ain’t taking chances.”
“You got, sarge.”
They got out, guns drawn and walked down the side of the driveway staying in the shadows. Lights were on in the house, but they didn’t see anyone inside. They stood in the front lawn just outside the rectangle of light shining from the living room.
Andrews whispered he’d check the back. Daily squatted down and watched the house.
Andrews crept along the side in the house, standing on his toes to look in the windows, but didn’t see anything. When he stepped into the backyard, he nearly pissed himself at the sight of two men standing near the back door.
In a calm low voice he said, “Highway patrol, put your hands up and be quiet.”
The men complied and Andrews came up closer to them, until something cold and metallic pressed against his throat and someone said ‘shhhhh’ into his ear.
Daily waited as long as he could and moved to the front door. He peaked in and saw Porter tied up, calmly struggling against the twine. He checked the corners, pulling a pocketknife and knelt down, cutting the twine in two quick moves. He was helping Porter to his feet, when Porter suddenly shoved him aside and Finney’s ax hit the floor right where he just stood.
A jet of piss soaked the front of Daily’s pants when he saw Finney yank the ax out of the floor.
Byron was wearing his wrestling outfit, but had painted his face to look like a pink and black skull. Porter kicked one of Byron’s legs out and he crashed into a coffee table. Daily struggled, a bit, to get his gun back out of its holster. Porter was already on his feet and stomping on one of Byron’s arms, trying to make him let go of the ax.
Daily moved around Porter aiming his gun at Byron’s head.
“Back up, Port’. I got’em.”
A shot rang out and Daily felt his shoulder and the front of his shirt suddenly become soaked. He reached up and could see blood spurting outward then he felt the searing pain in his neck. Before he hit the ground, Porter grabbed his gun and started firing at Lucy who was firing from around the corner in the kitchen. The last thing Daily saw was Byron biting Porter’s calf.
The pain was worse than you’d expect. Porter fell beside Daily, trying to kick Byron off and not get shot. Byron suddenly leapt on top of Porter pinning his arm across his own chest so Porter couldn’t aim the gun.
Byron’s hot rank breath made Porter nauseas. He fought to push him off, but Byron was a huge mass of muscle and Porter was helpless.
“You got him, baby?”
Byron got a handful of Porter’s hair and grabbed the arm holding the gun, smashing Porter’s hand to the ground until he had to let go of the gun.
“You probably should’a ran, Porter. You ain’t getting another chance.”
Three men pushed Andrews into the living room and forced him to his knees. One held a machete to Andrews throat while the other two came over and helped Byron get Porter subdued.
They got Porter on his belly then one of the men put Porter in a headlock, stretching his back so that Porter had to look at Andrews. They’d beat him up pretty bad and cut out his left eye. Andrews looked like he might be in shock. He stared at Porter with one wide eye, his mouth moving without a sound.
“Andrews, it’s ok…”
At this everyone laughed and Byron ruffled Porter’s hair.
“Sure it is! Just look at Porter, Andrews! It’s all good, sweetheart!”
Byron walked over to Andrews and slapped his head.
“Look at me, piggy! Who else knew ya’ll were coming back down here?”
Andrews couldn’t speak, but his lips kept moving. Byron smacked him a again and Andrews spat out, “-through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil..!”
Byron smacked him again.
“Fuck, pig! Jesus ain’t answering you, so you might as well answer me!”
Andrews went silent and looked around the room then back up at Byron and finally to Porter.
“Who. Else. Knows. You. Were. Coming. Back. Here. Pig?”
“N-no one…keeping it quiet…I got a family, man…”
Byron squatted in front of him, “Not anymore you don’t.”
He stood up and the man with the machete chopped into Andrew’s neck, cutting halfway through. Porter closed his eyes as Andrews’ blood gushed out across the floor.
Byron went through Daily’s pocket and found his cell phone; he looked at recent contacts and matched Ann’s number with the one on Porter’s phone. He chuckled and called her back on Daily’s phone.
“Cunt, you just keep on sending cops to my house and I’ll keep on chopping them to pieces.”
“You mother fucker, I know who you are now!”
“You really fucking don’t.”
“Stay away, Ann!”
Byron kicked Porter in the ribs.
“I didn’t say you could speak, pussy! Now listen to this, cunt; One of ya’ll get the state boys’ IDs, find out where they live and go kill their families.”
Ann heard some chuckling and someone said ‘you got it.’
She hung up the phone and called 911. The operator answered and she began to hastily run through the whole story, insisting that units get to the homes of the troopers quickly. She was asked about her location, but said only that she was hiding.