2004 Entry

Mystery on Woodward

Dream Cruise Weekend

A Mike Blackwood Mystery

My ears were ringing from the shots. There had been three of them. His, I guess, and two of mine. I was flattened against the wall, listening for any sound of movement, waiting for the green spots in front of my eyes to go away so that I could see again. And the pain in my side didn't help much. I tried to breath as quietly as I could, my teeth clinched in an intense grip. I stood there waiting for the sound of my own heartbeat to come back down from the intense adrenaline rush it had just experienced. For a while no sounds came into my ears, at least none that I could recognize.

The .45 had not required conscious thought to fire, it had happened as an automatic response. It was heavy in my hand, but it wasn't shaking. The pain was on the left side and my back. I had felt it hit, but couldn't tell what damage it had done. I carefully felt my left side, difficult to do with my left hand, but I wasn't about to switch the gun to my other hand. My quick slide to the right as I had gone by the window had prevented him from catching me square on. I was no longer hearing my heart and my breath had slowed to a more normal pace.

It had been threatening to storm most of the afternoon, large thunderclouds rolling overhead. The moon had been full a couple days earlier, but the clouds kept it hidden and dark. Until, of course, it would be the worst possible moment for me. There had been a flickering light in the room. But by they time I got to the porch and eased my way up to the window, one paranoid footstep at a time, it was totally dark inside. I don't know if it was my mis-step a few minutes earlier, or a creaking board, but something had given him a warning. Or if I was lucky, perhaps he had decided it was safe to go to sleep. I had not come out with any intention of getting involved in any sort of a fight. I wanted to locate him, and hopefully Sara, but Lady Luna did me in. The fickle light of the moon popped out just as I was silhouetted against the window.

I caught a flash of something in the pale moon light and had immediately thrown myself to the side. I don't know when I had pulled out the .45, probably as I had come up the steps. I'm not sure I even realized it when I pulled the trigger, no aiming just firing instinctively. I carefully felt out my injuries without moving, running an inventory of the pain points. I didn't appear to be in any danger of bleeding to death. I listened more carefully, trying to blank out the highway. I still heard nothing.

My tactics instructor would have been proud. Carefully holding the flashlight out at arm length, I turned it on pointing it through the window in the direction I expected my opponent to be. The click of the switch was loud and the beam shot out and illuminated the room through the remains of the window glinting off a few fragments of dirty glass. There was no reaction and no sound of movement. The light splashed out against the far wall.

Mark S. Wellington