Short story 1

The deputy’s truck pulled up in front of a large hill. The day was ordinary, just a regular Texas summer—hot and sunny. Two men stepped out—one armed with a shotgun, the other carried a semi-automatic 9mm. “Where did they see them?” asked the passenger. He slung his shotgun over his shoulder and donned a pair of sunglasses, squint lines deepening over his tanned face. He was Mexican, tall, with long, dark hair in a pony tail. His friend, the driver, was small but muscular.
The smaller of the two stared across the landscape to a rocky hill. “The informant said they were just over there. He said maybe three or four, he couldn’t really tell.” The officers had responded to the call for a report of trespassing.
“Alright, let’s go check it out,” the small man said. He reached in the back and grabbed a 30-06 scoped rifle and chambered a round.
The two men marched up the hill, probably about 100 yards to the peak and stared intently, seeing no one in sight, which made them wonder if they were in the right location. The Mexican man spoke up. “Hey, Lou, check out that ridge on the mountain across the lake. Do you see a truck up there?”
The smaller man, Lou, squinted his eyes in the sun before lifting his scope. “There’s a red pickup, but I don’t see anyone in the cab. You think it’s the owner of the land?”
“Naw, the owner said he was clearing out.”
“Come on,” Lou sighed. It was two hundred yards through the bushes to the small mountain. “Let’s see whose it is.”
The two hadn’t made it very far down the hill into the valley before a spray of dust shot up from the ground in front of them accompanied by a quite, high pitched whizzing sound. Startled, both officers stopped and stared at the ground. Tense and on high alert, Lou lifted his rifle scope, searching again for the truck. Standing by the driver door was a man with a scoped rifle aiming at them. He saw a flash from the end of the rifle barrel, and in the same instant he returned fire by squeezing the trigger. In the next moment he saw the assailant drop in a cloud of blood. “I got him!” Lou shouted in victory, but too soon as he saw the red stain on his partner’s chest. The man fell down to his knees, then went limp, his face falling forward in the dust and pebbles. Lou grabbed his radio and yelled frantically into it. “Officer down! Requesting medical attention!”
As if from a long distance, he heard the responder talking. “What’s your location?”
“We’re five miles up gravel road, east bound. Up past the old school house over the hill.”
“What is his condition?”
Lou had already been applying pressure to the wound, but his partner did not move. Lou checked the man’s pulse. “He’s dead!” Lou shouted. As he said it, another cloud of dust shot up from the ground in front of him. He stared back at the truck and saw two small figures running around to the man he had killed. Looking through his scope he saw that they were each armed with silenced AR-15 rifles. One man lifted his gun and fired two more rounds as the bullets barely passed overhead. “Shots fired! I need backup immediately!” He jumped up and raced in the direction of his truck while chambering another round. He could hear the silenced popping of the bullets being fired at him. As he came up over the hill, he fell into a squatting position. Taking careful aim through his scope he noticed that the number of assailants had increased to four, all armed to the teeth, one with an AK-47. He squeezed the trigger again with deadly accuracy and watched as a man fell over. The one with the AK raised his gun and sent a volley of bullets flying his direction. He chambered another round and fell back behind the concealment of a small boulder, barely large enough to cover him. His truck was still a couple hundred yards down the hill behind him. Bullets ricocheted off the boulder and whizzed through the air.
A voice came over his radio. “Lou, what’s going on down there?” It was the sheriff.
“I’m in the middle of a shoot out! My partner’s dead!” he yelled back into the radio.
“Get out of there. I don’t need another dead deputy. Wait for backup to arrive before engaging again. I have a helicopter en-route to your position.”
Lou did as commanded and bolted to the truck, slinging the door wide open and jumping into the driver’s seat. Without taking time to close the door he started the engine, and backed up onto the road. His tires spun as he peeled out over the dirt road, sending a cloud of dust behind him as he sped away from the deadly scene.

The sniper in the helicopter, armed with an M16A2 assault rifle, watched for whatever sign of life he could see. They were almost to the location of the shooting and saw no sign of the deputy or of the assailants. “Lou, this is your eyes in the sky. Where exactly did you say you are?”

Lou had stepped out of his truck and cautiously climbed a hill overlooking the road, hoping the assailants had not followed him. His caution paid off. Several hundred yards away he saw the truck speed out where his had been only a few minutes before.
“They’re coming towards me down Gravel Road, east bound.”
“I don’t see any signs of them,” replied the pilot.
“Keep looking, I’m right by the old school now. Where are you?”
“Coming upon it in a few minutes. Just hang tight.”
Lou pressed the butt of the gun against his shoulders. He squeezed the trigger, aiming for the driver. He saw a flash of sparks as the bullet grazed the hood of the truck. He had missed. He quickly chambered another round and took aim. He rushed his shot and fired, this time missing the truck entirely. He saw the man on the passenger side point up at him. They had spotted him. He jumped up and looked back. There wasn’t anywhere to hide except for the old, one room school house behind him. He chambered another round as he ran the hundred yards for the small building. Of course, he knew the assailants would know to search the school house, so he dropped behind a large boulder sitting beside a flowering cactus. There he waited, heart pounding, blood rushing to his head. The assailant’s truck pulled up next to his and jerked to a stop. The three men jumped out and aimed their rifles carefully in every direction, methodically searching the landscape. Two of them marched toward the school house, moving much like men who had had military experience, guns raised, eyes searching. They approached the steps of the school house and ducked beneath the porch. Lou watched them carefully through his scope and saw the nearest one pull out a small, bottle-like object. The man stuffed a rag in the bottle of alcohol and lit the rag. He flung it through the window and the whole building erupted in flames in a few short seconds. The two men, surprised at the rapidity with which the fire had spread, fled a safe distance from the flames. Lou lowered his trigger finger and readied himself for another shot. Before he could fire, he felt the stunning blow to the back of his head. His vision blurred. He rolled onto his back and stared up at a man. Through tears of pain, he recognized the man from the truck. The man kicked him in the face with his dust covered boot. Mercifully, he sank into blackness.

The sheriff searched the deputy’s truck with a sigh. The old school was nothing more than a pile of ash, smoke, and short bursts of oxygen-fed flames. “Any sign of him?” the sheriff shouted to one of the deputies searching through the ash.
“Nothing. I don’t think he was in the fire,” the man replied.
The sheriff got on his radio and spoke into it. “Chopper one, do you see anything yet?”
“Negative. We’re going to make a sweep around the ranches nearby. Maybe they’re hiding out somewhere.”
“10-4.” The sheriff put his radio down and looked up the hill where Lou had been sniping the assailants.

Lou opened his eyes slowly. Every muscle in his body ached. His head throbbed and he felt something cold and wet on the sides of his face. He looked up. Blood was trying to find its way into his eyes, and he knew that accounted for the cold, wet sensation. He tried to move, but soon found that his hands were cuffed behind his back, and his boots were gone, he assumed to keep him from running. His chest was tied to the chair, as were his legs. His gun lay on a table across the room. The room looked like nothing more than an old shack. He could hear faint voices behind him. He tried to turn but the shooting pain into his muscles would not allow this. A circulating desk fan shot a cool breeze on him, shooing the flies which were trying to settle on his face.
The breeze was soon put out as a shadow appeared in the corner of his eyes. He looked up and saw a man hovering over him. He was dressed like a cowboy, had a dark tan, and a scar running down his left cheek. “Howdy, officer,” he said with a rough voice. Another man appeared from behind him. He was small and thin, very white, and wore a Yankees baseball cap atop greasy, red hair. His voice was more high pitched. “Afternoon,” he mocked.
“What do you want?” Lou asked.
“Come on? That question is so cliché nowadays. Everyone in every movie asks that. I’d figured you’d be more original.”
Lou knew now that this man was either a lunatic, or a relaxed killer. “Where am I?”
“Again with the cliché, so tiring. Smalls, tell him what I think of clichés.”
The young, white boy spoke up in his not so manly voice. “He hates clichés. He loves original.”
So the boss man likes original. And Smalls is his too-young-to-drink-alcohol sidekick. “Who are you?” Lou asked.
“Now that’s original!” Boss man shouted clapping his hands together and jumping in a circle as his hat nearly flew off. He caught his hat and balanced it upon his head again. “When in the movies do you hear the man tied up asking who the killer is? I don’t recall any.” He smiled broadly and took a step closer. “Now here’s what I want you to do.”
“I won’t do it.” Lou said instantly.
“Yes you will. Trust me.” Boss man replied.
“No I won’t.” Lou argued.
“Very well.” Boss man picked up a remote control and flipped on a television. He grabbed the back of Lou’s chair and spun it around so that Lou could see the screen. Lou soon realized this wasn’t a movie or TV show, but a live broadcast of the sheriff searching the area where Lou’s partner had been killed. “You see this? This is a live video feed attached to the scope of a trained sniper I have fixing to blow a hole in your sheriff’s head. If you want him alive then you will do as I say. If not, then my sniper is willing to drop as many officers as possible before he dies.”
“That’s cliché,” Lou said dully.
“Very, you’re right. But I didn’t have many more ideas other than feed their bodies to my pet sharks,” Boss man snarled.
“Didn’t see that one coming.” Lou hung his head. “Can I have some water?”
“Whatever you wish. You name it and we can provide it.” Boss man smiled broadly.
“Let me go?”
Boss man’s smile faded. “Water will do fine.”

“Sheriff!” a deputy raced over to him. “Sheriff.”
“Yeah, what is it?” he replied.
“The FBI is here. They say this is a federal case.”
“Why?”
“They think that Lou stumbled upon a drug lord’s transaction. They need to speak to you.”
The sheriff sighed and looked up at a hummer that he hadn’t notice pull up, wondering if they had been followed. Four fully armed men were questioning his deputies. They were dressed in OD green uniforms and had handguns as well as assault rifles. Two more hummers pulled up behind them.

“Let me go!” Lou shouted. Three men dragged him into the kitchen toward a table, much like an operating table. The three men pinned him down as a fourth restrained his wrists, ankles, chest, and head to the table with thick, leather straps.
“You asked for water. We’re improvising,” Boss man shouted over Lou’s shouts and curses. “You see, Mister Deputy, water is like gold. Water is the elixir of life. Water is life, and life is in water. We can’t spare any of our precious earth’s limited water source on you. No we can’t. So we’re going to use something quite different.”
One of the men who had held him down grabbed an IV stand with what looked like a bag of water hooked to it. Professionally, he inserted a needle into Lou’s arm. “Slight pinch,” he joked in a deep, gruff voice, much deeper than Boss man’s.
“What is that?” Lou shouted.
“This is water, just like you asked. But this water is special—it’s salt water, much higher concentration of saline than your standard hospital saline, just like that in the ocean. Makes you feel good at first, but in the end you will die—dehydrate, move the water from your tissues cells into the bloodstream and overload your heart. Just like your sin—makes you feel good momentarily but it never satisfies,” he laughed squeezing the bag gently.
“You laugh a lot for being such a bad person. I figured with all the death that surrounds you that you would have a more sober outlook on life,” Lou mumbled.
“I have learned a lesson with all of the death that surrounds me. I have learned to enjoy life to its fullest. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day…well, you get the picture. So just relax, Mr. Cop Man, you will be dead soon, too.”
Smalls followed Boss Man out one way. Doc stayed in the room, and the other two men headed out the back door. “I think you should know.” Doc spoke clearly and succinctly, “that the family who lived in this house before we got here was blessed by our arrival.”
“Did you kill them like you’re killing me?” Lou was mad.
“No. You see, we saw their pain. Financial turmoil, kids sick, no car, no food. We helped them out by letting them pass quickly from this life to the next. I can also say painlessly.”
“I swear once I get free from here I’m killing you,” Lou shouted.
“No need to try. You won’t make it out the door alive,” Doc replied turning his head, eyeing the can of soup by the stove. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re sick in the head,” Lou snarled.
“Did he tell you that he doesn’t like clichés?”
“So I hear.”
Doc didn’t wait long before he slowly unbuttoned his plaid shirt. Pulling it off, he revealed a small, plastic box with a blinking, red light on his wrist.
“What’s that?” Lou asked.
“This is a pulse monitor. If I die, our boss dies, or Smalls die, then this entire cabin blows up.”
“What about the goons who helped drag me in here?”
“My boss needs someone those who are dispensable, those who can die without killing us.”
“So the man I killed obviously didn’t have a pulse monitor on him then?”
“He did. But his was wired to blow up a bus. Every ‘goon’ that dies, something, somewhere blows up killing people.”
“That isn’t cliché, is it?”
“Not one bit.”

“What do you plan on doing? That’s my deputy out there. I should have every right to help get him back! You cannot tell me to stand back!” the sheriff yelled at two of the FBI agents.
“Sir, this is no longer your jurisdiction!” the agent ordered.
“I have the right to get my man back!”
“We don’t want you getting in our way. I’m just following orders,” the agent replied.

The sniper adjusted his sights on the nearest agent. This was his moment to show his boss that he was a better man then he was given credit. To kill a government agent, or two or three if he was quick, would be a great honor to him. He lowered his finger to the trigger and moved the rifle as his target moved. He squeezed the trigger. A deafening bang pierced the tranquil, desert air.

The sheriff stood unmoving as he argued with the agents. Instantly a loud blast shot resounded, catching everyone off guard. A pink spray filled the air, soaking the sheriff in blood. The agent fell down with a shout as he began to bleed out all over the desert ground. The remaining agents raised their rifles toward the deputies and sheriff, who returned the aggression. “Hands in the air! Get on the ground!” they shouted.
“We didn’t do it!” the sheriff yelled. Just then another agent fell down, spraying blood all over the windshield of the hummer.
“Sniper!” an agent yelled. “Check the mesa for a sniper! Take cover!” The sheriff dove behind his truck and pulled a scoped 30-06 rifle and raised it to his eye.
“Get your head down, sheriff!” another agent ordered. “You’ll get it blasted off if you’re not careful!”
Another deputy raced beside the sheriff. As he dropped to his knees a bullet ripped through his shoulder, knocking him onto his back. The sheriff dropped his rifle to help his deputy. Agents began to open fire with several scoped assault rifles, using binoculars to search the landscape.

Lou lay on the operating table watching Doc eat his soup in silence. Doc’s back was turned, giving Lou just the concealment to carefully wiggle one foot, then the other, free of its bonds. He then proceeded to do the same with one arm. At the moment he had freed the other arm, Doc turned around. “Hey!” he shouted as he lunged toward the table, eyes bulging maniacally. Lou didn’t hesitate. He shot a kick to Doc’s groin forcing him to bend forward. As Doc fell toward the table, groaning, Lou managed to grab him by the throat and pull Doc down. Doc was wide eyed, eyes tearing from pain. Lou spun his hand around with a powerful hammer-fist to the back of the head, sending him unconscious on the ground. That gave Lou just enough time to loosen the remaining bonds around his head and chest. He jumped up, digging through Doc’s waist band and pulling out a hand gun. He jerked up Doc’s shirt sleeve, revealing the pulse monitor. Quickly, he loosened it and wrapped it around his own wrist. Waiting a few seconds to see if he was going to blow up or not he realized that he had been holding his breath.
He rolled up his sleeves, making sure that the pulse monitor was easily noticeable. Extending the gun forward he kicked down the door. Two men sat watching television, two of Boss Man’s goons. Startled, they looked up at him. Would someone else really die if their pulse monitors stopped, as Doc had said? He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into each of their shoulders. They shouted in pain. Another goon appeared from around the corner of the hallways armed with an UZI SMG. Without thinking Lou put two bullets into his chest, hoping that Doc had been lying. He grabbed the UZI and looked down the hall. He didn’t see anyone, but he was sure that Smalls and Boss Man were probably just around the corner. He glanced through an open doorway in the hall. It was a bathroom. He approached it slowly, looking in the bathroom mirror. There, in the shower, was a man with a shotgun. He pointed the UZI around the corner and sent about seven rounds into the room. The rounds didn’t kill, but pierced his legs, sending him to the floor in pain.

“Target sighted,” an agent said loud enough for those around him to hear. The sheriff looked up at the hummer and saw a scoped .50 caliber rifle point out the end. “Cover your ears,” the agent ordered. The sheriff didn’t hesitate. The powerful bullet shot out of the rifle. The blast sent the sheriff onto his back startled. “Target down!” the agent yelled.

Lou ditched the UZI and grabbed the shotgun. He jumped into the living room where there were two goons, Smalls, and Boss Man. “Hold it right there!” Boss man shouted. The two goons lifted AK-47 rifles to him. “Wait! Don’t shoot!” Boss man shouted. He glanced at Lou’s wrist. “Now that is not cliché at all. Good job,” he smiled.
Lou pointed his shotgun at Boss Man’s head. “Get back or I’ll blast your head off!”
“I assume, Mr. Cop Man, that you know what those pulse monitors do,” he rolled up his sleeve. “I also assume that you know if you kill me you die also.”
Smalls handed Boss Man a small remote, similar to a cell phone. “Can’t kill me either,” he said in his irritating high pitched voice.
“See this remote?” Boss man asked. “The entire town is wired with explosives. Your wife is there, your child. All of your friends are home with no idea what is about to kill them. Now you can choose: lay down your gun, and your life, or let everyone that you know die. Better hurry up with your decision. I don’t have much patience.”
“I’ll kill you first!” Lou shouted.
“I know, and you know, that you don’t want to die. Now give me the gun and the pulse monitor.” Boss man sounded irritated.
Lou pointed the shotgun at Boss Man’s leg and pulled the trigger. Click. No bullets. Lou opened the chamber to find an empty gun.
Boss man laughed hard. “You fool, now you will die, as will your family and friends.”
The next few seconds felt like an eternity as Smalls walked toward Lou, as did the two goons. Lou felt a tear run down the side of his cheek. He whispered a silent prayer to himself. “Greater love has no one than this—that he lay down his life for his friends.”
“What was that?” Boss man asked. “What did you say?”
Lou dropped the gun and reached for his pulse monitor. He started unfastening the strap.
“Stop him! Don’t let him kill us!” Boss man shouted running for Lou. Lou dropped the pulse monitor. Time slowed down, Boss Man running in slow motion, and a few short seconds later…a bright flash.