Chester reached out, laying his hand on Nicole’s stomach. Their son was approaching two. With a second child on the way that touch normally soothed her. She stayed still. He realized the phone and not one of her late night cravings woke him. Plucking the cell from beside the bed, Chester mumbled a hello.
The voice that greeted him was familiar but strange. Like an old friend speaking around the barrel of a gun. The words were off too, like the man read from a script.
“There’s a car outside. Get in it. You don’t want to ignore this.”
The connection terminated. Chester blinked sleep from his eyes as Nicole rolled towards him.
“Everything okay?”
“I think your father’s in trouble. Give me two minutes then put everything in lock down. I’ll be back when I can.”
Two minutes later Chester walked towards the black sedan he first spotted from his bedroom window. Sliding into the passenger seat he was not surprised to find a priest behind the wheel. Who else drove a black sedan with the vanity plates mycross?
“What am I doing here?”
Chester asked the question as the priest pulled away from the curb. Chester looked the man over. He did not know this servant of false idols. He gripped the gun in coat pocket. Father O’Reilly spoke in a soothing voice.
“We need to talk.” He watched the road.
At least Chester knew he wasn’t going to die in a car crash.
“Spill it. If this is about what I think it is I’m not the man you want.”
“The man we want is the one who can end it. Your father in law is unmoving on that front. My partner, the one holding the gun on the preacher, uncovered some evidence indicating you might help. You’re the only one who seems to harbor doubts about this prophecy.”
“Faith requires doubt, or it wouldn’t be faith.” Chester’s voice rang false in his own ears but three years was a long time for ideas to take hold. “Let’s say you’re right and I do want to stop this though. What would you have me do?”
“Take the kids and run.”
“And, if I don’t?”
“I’m not a violent man but my partner is a bit unstable. He’s patient but he’s losing that. So the old man might die if you refuse.”
“He’s ready to die for the cause.”
As the priest opened his mouth, Chester took a calculated risk. Bringing the gun around, still in his pocket, he shot the priest in the thigh. The man’s scream overshadowed the squeal of tires when the brakes tried to lock, just barely.
The car stopped. The smell of blood mingling with leather nauseated both passengers. When he quit cursing the priest looked at Chester. The pleading wonder in his eyes looked almost like betrayal but it could not be. These men did not know each other, though they now shared a war story. Stepping from the vehicle Chester issued his second retort.
“If your partner is who I think he is tell him I’m sorry about his lover. I had nothing to do with that. I don’t like killing but if you come after my family again I might change my mind. Goodnight, father.”
Walking back towards his home, Chester had a moment of doubt. What if the priest called the cops? It didn’t seem likely though. By morning the man would probably have blood on his own hands.
#shortstory #novel #author #writer #wriging
No comments:
Post a Comment