Page 139 of Chokehold
More coughs rack my frame, and I grimace as sharp pain lances through my skull and assaults my ribcage.
His boots disturb the grass as he rounds the vehicle, his weathered face coming into view. A raindrop clings to his nose as he lifts his arm and aims the gun at my face.
It strikes me as humorous, and laughter bubbles up from my chest. Here I am, staring death in the face, yet all I can focus on is that single raindrop. We’re comrades, both of us clinging to life.
I wonder who will give up first? Me or the drop?
I try to sit straighter, clutching my midriff, then spit a wad of blood on the dried grass and leaves.
This is it.
The end of the road.
“Any last words?” he asks, his finger steady on the trigger.
“Eat a dick and die.”
A bitter chuckle climbs up his throat for a brief second, but it dies just as quickly, and he pulls the trigger.
Click.
His eyes meet mine and widen. We look at the gun. He tries again.
Click.
Click.
Now I’m laughing for real.
I can’t stop it.
My ribs throb with pain as my stomach muscles contract. Tears stream from my eyes for a different reason.
Malcolm’s eyes harden as a cold rage seeps from his pores. He tosses the gun to the ground and comes for me.
I’m ready for him as I stand up.
When he’s within reach, I use the last of my remaining strength to rugby tackle him. My shoulder connects with his chest, and the breath gets knocked out of him. I shove him hard.
The world slows.
Everything slows.
Malcolm extends his arms as if asking for help, and a pleading look enters his eyes before he cartwheels his arm in a last attempt at regaining balance.
It’s already too late.
He topples back against the car and in through the open passenger door. His shrill, ear-splitting scream fills the air as the sizzling flames engulf his thrashing body.
The air soon fills with the stench of burning clothes and flesh, and I press the back of my bloodied hand against my nose, wafting the air.
Moments later, his screams fall silent, and I cock my head curiously. His upper body and head are burning, but his legs and feet remain outside the car, strangely untouched by the flames.
It’s almost as if I expect them to twitch or something, like in the movies.
When they remain unmoving, I blow out a bored breath and stumble past the burning car toward the road.
I’m growing dizzy, blood dripping from my fingers with every step. I clutch my arm in a bid to stem the bleeding, but I’m struggling to stay upright. I feel like I might faint.
