Fugitive

Chapter 6

From the window, I couldn't make out who was in the vehicles. Perks of tinted windows I guess. They all had plates but I could tell from the way one was crooked that they were most likely all fakes. To keep the cops off their trails, any way of tracing them would be eliminated. That's how I came to the conclusion it wasn't the FBI or any kind of agents. It wasn't the police. They were there for me. That part was certain. The real question was: who were they? 

I checked to make sure my guns were loaded. Both were. Again, I pulled back the curtains and looked out the window. Just in time to see two men get out of each SUV. One on six. The odds are not in my favor. By the way they were looking around they didn't appear to know exactly where I was. Obviously, they knew where I was hiding out. They would proceed via a standard search of the buildings. Probably splitting up. Then would have been a good time to run. Except then I would never know who they were, plus all my stuff was there. Not to mention a car chase would surely draw attention, and that was the last thing anyone wanted. 

The men all wore suits. Odd. They had to be some kind of organization. What kind of organization would be after me? They also all wore sunglasses. It was sunny out. Not unusual. They looked official. Like they'd maybe just returning from a funeral, or a wedding. Not really all that suspicious. As predicted they all split up. Really there was three options here. Run. Stay and fight. Or die. The latter, not so appealing. Their attire and the carefully stashed guns concealed beneath their suits implied they weren't really up for negotiation. 

I could no longer see the men. But I heard their shoes on the creaky veranda. One lot were perhaps two rooms over. Following standard procedure one pair had probably gone around back. The other would be coming from the opposite direction. Searching rooms. No doubt banging the door open, or picking the lock to maintain the element of surprise. A ship long since sailed. They would probably knock out any other residents to avoid screams or the calling of police. That's how I would do it anyway. Heavy footsteps approached the door. Time stood still for that time. They tried the handle. Locked of course. I moved silently positioning myself, my gun aimed and ready to fire. 

They picked the lock and opened the door guns out as they walked in. I could see them but I know from their angle they could not see me. The first man walked in and went to the left. The second man came to the right. He was staring right at me. I pulled the trigger before he could do anything. Then all hell broke loose. I heard a scream from a lady next door. The second man turned around and fired two rounds but I was already taking cover around the corner. I spun out and shot him twice in the chest. I ran to the back window keeping my eyes on the door. The next two men would be there in seconds.

 As predicted there were two men out the back standing right next to my truck. One had his gun out scanning his surroundings while the other had smashed the car window and was reaching his arm inside, feeling around for something. Bastard broke my window. I took my first shot. Man down. The second man shot at me, barely missing my head. Shattering the glass causing a shard to stick into my arm. I shot him. He fell to the ground. My arm bled instantly, red pouring onto the floor. It wasn't too deep so, I pulled out the shard with my hands so it wouldn't get shoved further into my arm and cause tissue damage and more bleeding. I let it drop to the floor, pulling it out had cut my hand a bit too. I ignored it. 

By then the other two men had entered the apartment. The first one managed to shoot me in the shoulder which sent a wave of pain through me. I jerked back and rolled to the ground, crawling behind the kitchen bench. I held a hand over my shoulder for a second. Blood covered my hand as I pulled it away. I gritted my teeth together, wincing with an expression on my face I could only describe as not very appealing. A consorted kind of expression. They shot at the bench chipping away the plaster and smashing the tiles on the wall in front of me. Tile and plaster crumpled onto the floor ruining the place.