Fugitive

Chapter 34

I left with the gun in its case slung over my shoulder. This meant I couldn't exactly walk down the street. Carrying a gun would bring to much attention. The police would be on me before I could even get close to the Marina. So, I continued along the back of the houses down the fenced paddock. My shoes collected a lot of mud. It wasn't far. More trees covered my park to the river. I reached the river. It was moving mildly swiftly. I couldn't tell how deep it was. But this part of the river was a lot narrower than the rest. I figured my chances were pretty good. I removed my shoes and socks. Holding them both about my head with the gun I waded in. It was deathly cold. Of course, it would have been colder in winter, but it was still breathing. I let out some deep exhales. The water came up to my chest when I reached about the middle. It went back up again from there. Maybe this was a mistake. I could already feel myself loosing feeling in my toes. I kept trudging through, ignoring the slimy feeling on the bottom of my feet. I stood on a sharp rock or stick and winced. When I crawled out of the river and into the trees I took note of where I was. From the edge of the tree line I could see the Murrill Avenue apartments. They were pretty much straight ahead. I sat down and put my shoes back on, still shivering. To my rights was some kind of power plant, or electrical station. Something. Either way there were a lot of wires and fences. I followed the river in the cover of the trees. It made a large bend. I went past the power place and through the bush pausing for constant breaks. The cold water had not done wonders on my lungs. My chest was still tender. I still had a bandage there. It was saturated now and it's only purpose was holding dirty river water, letting it seep into my wound. I removed my shirt and wringed it out before taking off the bandage. The wound looked okay. As good as a gunshot wound could look I guess. They'd stitched it up, but it was damn ugly. I wonder when my stitches were supposed to be removed? I knew if I continued through the trees I would come to Monsters Pizza. Which actually sounded really good at the time. Like really, really good. I still had hours before five. That gave me hours to talk myself out of this. The sun peeked through the clouds occasionally. I used the opportunity to try and dry off. The ground was cold, but dry. I lay on my back looking up at the clouds. I expected waiting around to make me change my mind. About Dennis. But the more I lay there the more I thought about what he'd done. What he deserved. A sense of overwhelming bloodlust came back. Maybe not bloodlust. I don't know what it was. But I wanted him dead again. Waiting was only growing that feeling. Once I'd mostly dried off I hid the gun in a hollow tree. I needed to stake out the Marina Café. I've been there before. Once for a birthday lunch or something. It was nice on a good day. I looked longingly at Monsters Pizza as I walked passed, coming out of the trees. Not the time. I continued up the street, hoping no one really took notice of the bottom of my pants, that were still quite damp. It only took about five minutes to cross the bridge and end up at the café. I found myself wondering why they would choose there. I suppose it is kind of out of the way, but not too far away. And there were no other building nearby. They had river cruises advertised out front. A couple of boats sat near the carpark. They looked like they hadn't been used in a while. I opened the café doors. No one looked up. Today there weren't many people there. The occasional family or couple. A student sitting behind a laptop screen with headphones in. I pictured what the scene would look like at five. Dennis would sit at the table at the far end of the cafe. Further away from other tables so they could talk privately. Near the back entrance. Away from windows. They had a clear vantage of the whole restaurant. I didn't know that's where they would sit. I suppose I could find out. Maybe. It was a long shot. I waved down a staff member. "Hi", I kept my hat down. "Is there any way I could book that table there for five tonight"? "That specific table"? I nodded. "Let me check". Fr two long minutes I was paranoid that he was calling the police or something. That someone would recognise me. I forced myself to take a deep breath. This paranoia is how so many people get caught. They get scared, and make mistakes. The man came back. "I'm sorry that table has already been specifically booked for five. But how many people were you dining with? We could arrange another table for you". I smiled. "No, it's okay. Thank you for your help though". The man nodded and went back to clearing tables. I walk out. What are the chances of that? It had to be Dennis. Right. So, now that I knew when they were going to sit I could plan accordingly. Problem was it was far away from the windows. Not an impossible shot. Maybe I could get him before he walks in to the café. That might be easier. I walked out of the café and looked around. Not a lot of buildings. There was a small building across the road. It was where all the car parks are. It almost looked like a public bathroom from here. White walls and a brown coloured roof. I shielded my eyes from the sun. Across the pavement and across the road was a better view. The building was less than ideal. It was small. Only one level. There weren't took many cars in the carpark. No, here wouldn't work. There were no windows facing the café on the building. It was still going to be light at five. I needed to be inside somewhere. Out of sight. I sighed looking around. The clouds had retreated giving way to the sun. It was starting to warm up a bit. I was grateful. It made wearing a hat a little more plausible. I could see a tall building in the distance. Unfortunately, it was the Jacksonville Bible Church. I might be going to kill a guy, but I have some humanity. I'm not a going to shoot someone from a church. I'm not a monster. Again, I searched around. My eyes drifted over the island in the middle of the river. I quickly dismissed that idea. Getting to the island would be too difficult and it would be too difficult to get off it too. Dennis wasn't making it easy. There was a shed to the left of the carpark. It was small but it had two windows facing the café carpark. Exactly where Dennis would walk. It would give me a clear view of him. Perfect. I decided to check it out. Or though the street was pretty busy I figured, well hoped, that no one would really notice. It wasn't a very far shot, so I would definitely be able to make it with the riffle Puck gave me. Bag news was there would be a big panic once I took the shot. I would need to get away as fast as possible. The lock on the door held tight when I tried to open it. There was no one around. I kicked the door in. It made a loud noise but there was no one around to notice it. The windows, while dirty would be suitable. It seemed to be some kind of storage shed. There was a canoe supported by ties, hanging from the rafters in the roof. There were some oars. A table. A half pulled apart motor sat on it. A boat one, I'm guessing. Some lifejackets hung on a rail on the far end. I flicked the light switch. Yeah, this would work. I left the shed and ran back into the woods to get the riffle. Maybe I should have brought it with me. But either way it killed a bit of time. On the way back I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. Which could only really work till a point because I did still have a gun case over my shoulder. When I reached the shed again I locked the door from the inside. It still worked, despite me kicking it in. I sat on a dusty chair under the window looking out. I watched people walk in and out of the café. I still had exactly three hours and four minutes, according to the clock on the wall. I kept an eye out anyway. In case Dennis showed up early. I had two chances. When he came in and when he left again. While I was waiting, I found a screw driver and undid the hinges on the window, taking it out of its frame. This way the bullet wouldn't change trajectory when it went through the glass. And it wouldn't make such a loud noise. Not that it would really matter. The gunshot was going to be loud enough. I had a plan to get out. Sort of. Take the shot. Make sure it gets him. Run out the door and through the trees past the Ark Resturaunt. If I ran fast enough the trees should provide plenty of cover. The Richlands Police Department was 17 minutes away exactly. Which gave me time. If they didn't send law enforcement from the Onslow County Jail or the courthouse. They were minutes away. I also got a cloth and wiped down the door, the screw driver and any other surfaces I knew I touched. With everything I'm accused of doing, I didn't want to get caught for doing something I actually did do. Dennis ended up arriving fifteen minutes early. It didn't matter. I was ready. I recognised his car before it even pulled into the lot. No one was in the car with him so whoever he was meeting must be coming separately. The riffle was already positioned. I moved it so that Dennis was in the target. I followed his movements as he got out of the car. "Hey"! I turned around suddenly. I hadn't even heard the door open. There was a man there wearing a check shirt with a brown beard and hair to match. He was holding a fishing pole. What a typical look for a fisherman. He ran towards me. Not wanting to mess up the shot I whirled out of my position and met his fist with my forearm blocking it. His fishing pole was abandon on the floor. There wasn't much room to manoeuvre. I threw a punch. I couldn't wait around. Dennis would be heading inside in that moment. The man took the punch to the shoulder but didn't seem to be too affected. He was strong. Years of reeling in big fish had built up the muscles in his arms. I let out a breath and continued fighting. I jagged at his throat. He blocked my arm swinging my down to the side. Promptly throwing a punch to my face. I winced. I got a punch to his face in. He threw his head to the side and spat the blood from his mouth. I could taste it myself but didn't want to leave any more of my DNA in the shed. He knocked my shoulder sending me tumbling into the lifejackets. Before I could regain my balance, he sent another punch to my jaw. I felt something crack but I knew it wasn't as bad as it sounded. I send a kick to his face while he was off balance. As he stumbled back I reached for an oar. I swung it behind me and brought it forward. It connected with the fisherman's face. I could hear the crack. He fell to the ground knocked cold. His head wasn't bleeding so I assumed it wasn't too serious. But head injuries are often worse than they appear. Especially if they're not bleeding. I hadn't hit him that hard. Not hard enough to do serious damage. The thought brought me some comfort. I ran back to the gun and lined up the shot once more. Then something came in front of my vision. It was a big flag, or banner of some kind. Two men were carrying it. I could see Dennis's shadow behind it. The one time. What a fucking joke. Of course, they had to move that flag right at that moment. Bloody hell. I knew I had the shot lined up. As a split second decision, I pulled the trigger. Dennis stumbled backwards into view from behind the banner clutching his shoulder. I shot again this time getting him right between the eyes. I watched with a devilish sense of satisfaction as he crumpled to the ground.