Execution Style

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “That it does. Next time you have your sonogram, he or she will look a little more human-like. And notice I said a little more. I get the ‘he looks like an alien’ quite a bit.”

  “I’d say nine and a half weeks. Or a little less,” the doctor guessed.

  My heart raced. Nine weeks would put it just shy of the night that Miller and I had…I shut the thought down. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t question it. What’s done was done, and we were going to be a happy family, no matter what.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Brewer confirmed. “Nine weeks. The due date should be around the first week in October!”

  Miller squeezed my hand. “That’s the week of my birthday.”

  His grin was contagious, and I couldn’t help but kiss his hand, excited that he was excited.

  “Alright,” Mrs. Brewer said, hitting a couple more buttons on the screen.

  Papers started to print out, and she handed us both a copy. “There you go! Baby’s first picture.”

  I started to cry.

  Miller cleared his throat, and then tucked it into the front of his pocket, right above his heart, and directly behind his badge.

  “Perfect,” I said, sitting up once the wand was taken from me.

  “Now, I’ll want to see you back in a month. We should be close to telling the sex of the baby by then,” the doctor said as he headed towards the door. “Is there anything else you need?”

  I shook my head. “No, you’ve answered them all, thank you.”

  With that, the room emptied, and I was left alone with Miller.

  “Well?” I asked him.

  He’d been staring at the picture still in my hand, eyes never wavering.

  His gaze slid to me. “I’m happy.”

  My tears, which had just started to dry up, started to well again. “I’m happy, too. So happy I could scream.”

  He leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Just wait till we’re outside, or they’ll think I’m beating you.”

  I snorted and hopped up, my ass flopping free of the paper gown they had me in.

  Miller took advantage and smacked it, causing me to jump in surprise.

  “Hey!” I said indignantly.

  He grinned. “It was hanging out. It wasn’t my fault.”

  I glared at him, but got dressed anyway.

  “Do you want to head to lunch after this?” I asked, slipping my shirt back on over my head.

  “Sure,” he said.

  I looked over my shoulder to see him staring at my ass, and had to laugh.

  “Down, boy.”

  He winked, grabbing my panties off the chair and tossing them at my face.

  “If you don’t want me to look, how about you cover it?”

  I caught the panties and slipped them on, making quick work of putting them and my pants on.

  My shoes came last, but since I was wearing flip flips, it didn’t much matter.

  “Ready,” I said, snatching my picture from his hand and shouldering my purse.

  He pulled my hair, “Lead the way, Mercy Me.”

  I did, down the hallway, out of the office, and into the bright sunshine.

  My hair whipped about my face at the blast of wind, and I giggled when it flew into Miller’s face.

  What shocked me, though, was that his eyes were alert and oriented on something far out into the parking lot.

  “What is it?” I said, catching my hair and twisting it before tucking it under my shirt.

  His eyes followed an old, black car out of the parking lot, watching it drive down the road unhurriedly.

  “Miller?” I asked in concern.

  His eyes didn’t meet mine until the car was completely gone from his sight.

  “Yeah?” He asked.

  “What was it?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

  ***

  Linda

  The next morning

  “Do you see this, my son? Do you see the craziness? Look at our house! I can’t believe you gave that to her! Her, of all people!” I gestured to our old place with a sweep of my hand.

  My eyes turned from the ruined house to the silver urn that was holding my son’s ashes. The one I’d been carrying around since he’d been handed back over to me.

  The paper delivery driver stopped at the end of the driveway, gawked at the place where our home had once stood only twelve hours before, and finally threw the paper.

  Why, I couldn’t tell you. It was more than obvious, even to me, that the house’s occupants were no longer there.

  Nonetheless, though, I walked down there and retrieved it.

  It was a habit, keeping up with the happenings in the city.

  If I didn’t know what was going on around me, I seemed to be a little…unsettled.

  My son had kept me grounded, and now that he was gone, because of that stupid bitch of a whore, I no longer had that peace that used to keep me calm.

  Then, what little ‘calm’ I had, evaporated when I saw the story on the front page of the paper.

  Hometown sweetheart marries Kilgore SWAT officer.

  That stupid bitch!

  Didn’t she realize what kind of prize she had in my son? What kind of life he could’ve given her?

  Then the words underneath captured my gaze, and I knew what I had to do.

  Couple to celebrate their wedding this Saturday night at Sacred Spur Ranch.

  Bye bye, Mr. and Mrs. Spurlock. I hope you burn in hell.

  Chapter 23

  I didn’t choose this life, I chose him.

  -Mercy

  Mercy

  Two days later

  “Sometimes my brain shuts off where I sort of zone out for a while, and it’s nice to know that when I snap out of it, I can turn to you and be like, ‘We need to build a fallout shelter to protect ourselves from the zombie apocalypse,’ and you’ll give it serious consideration,” I said into the microphone at our reception dinner, my eyes on my husband. “That’s why I wanted to marry you. You put up with my quirkiness. You protect me, shelter me, and love me. There’s not one thing I would change about our relationship. It may have started on the verge of impossible, but you stuck with me, and loved me through it. I love you, Miller Genuine Spurlock, and I’m proud to be your wife.”

  My eyes started to fill with tears during the first of the speech, and by the end of it, I was genuinely crying, tears pouring down my face in fast rivulets.

  Miller leaned forward and captured my mouth, pressing his warm lips against mine.

  “I love the way your lips get soft when you cry. I love the way you look at me when I wake you up in the morning after a long day at work. I love the way you watch me drive down the street until you can’t see me anymore. What I love most of all, though, is your heart. Your will to overcome. The way you continuously face the day when most people would’ve crawled into a hole and died. My wish, for the rest of our lives, is that I can live up to the man you’ve made me out to be, and forever offer you a shoulder to rely on. I love you more, Mercy Me. To the moon and back. To infinity and beyond. I’m over the fuckin’ rainbow in love with you,” he said into the microphone that was still clutched in my hands.

  “Language,” I said, placing my hand over his mouth.

  The crowd that was watching us laughed, and I turned to smile at the people that were at our reception, so happy I could burst.

  “Alright, there’s one last thing we have to do before we can cut the cake,” Memphis said, gesturing towards a chair that was in the back of the room.

  My heart started to flutter as I knew what was about to happen. He was about to see the garter I was wearing, as were the rest of the rest of the guests.

  And it proved to be fun.

  He loved the garter, and the fact that nearly my entire leg was exposed wasn’t nearly as big of a deal as I made it out to be.

  Although having Miller’s large shoulders wed
ged between my legs also had something to do with not caring.

  Twenty minutes after we cut our cake and the last goodbye was said, Miller and I headed to the car while the crowd around us threw bird seed.

  “You ready, Mrs. Spurlock?” Miller said, circling the garter he’d pried off my leg with his teeth around on his finger.

  I blushed and dropped into the seat, laughing when he bent over me and hung the garter from his rearview mirror.

  He stopped halfway out to give me a peck on the lips, then turned to wave at his friends and mine one more time.

  As Miller and I drove off, and the crowd of people stood behind us, I waved, turning around in my seat to do so.

  Miller smacked my ass, “Turn around and put your seatbelt on.”

  It was in that moment that I saw the car come out of nowhere.

  It smashed into our right side like a battering ram.

  Miller threw his arm out, gathering me to him, holding on for dear life while we were thrown this way and that.

  We must’ve spun no less than fifteen times, finally coming to a stop against what I assumed was another vehicle.

  My head, though, was a swirl of confusion.

  My eyes were open, but I wasn’t seeing anything.

  Shots rang out, an engine roared. A man screamed. More shots pierced through my fog.

  Even those couldn’t make me understand.

  I must’ve hit my head, because when I tried to look around, all I heard was screaming.

  “She’s hurt!”

  “Get ‘em out!”

  “She’s bleeding from her head.”

  “Foster’s fucked up.”

  “My baby!”

  “Foster’s hurt. Bad.”

  “It’s Linda.”

  My thoughts finally swirled back online long enough for three thoughts to pour through me.

  Oh, please don’t let Foster be hurt.

  Where is Miller? Why can’t I hear Miller?

  Linda! You cocksucker!

  ***

  Miller

  My head was pounding, but I put one foot in front of the other.

  I could do no less.

  My mind was a riot of emotions as I walked down the hall, leaving Mercy sleeping in her hospital bed.

  She was alright, but it could’ve been worse.

  She could’ve been pinned in her seat, crushed because her seatbelt wouldn’t let her move.

  Had she not had her seatbelt off, she’d have been crushed.

  I’d have lost both her and the baby in one fail swoop.

  “Is he awake yet?” I asked Trance as he walked towards me with Viddy.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. They expect it to happen anytime, though.”

  “Thank you,” I said quietly. “Do you mind if we take the stairs?”

  “No problem,” Viddy said, turning to the door instead of the elevators once we reached the end of the hall.

  We climbed silently, both of us in our own little worlds.

  I loved the hell out of Viddy. She was so intuitive, and always knew when to shut up, or talk it out.

  This was one of those ‘shut up’ times; she didn’t try to get me talking like most would do.

  Only walked at my side, climbing the steps, one by one, until we reached the surgical ICU.

  “What room is he in?” I asked quietly.

  “First door on the right. They deemed him a flight risk. He’s the furthest away from the elevators, and the closest to the nurse’s station,” Viddy explained.

  “Hmmph,” I said. “That won’t keep him where he’s supposed to be. It’ll only make it easier for him to escape.”

  “That’s what I told them, but the ‘nurses know best’ or, at least, that’s what the nurse I told it to, said,” Viddy explained, turning into the first room.

  Trance was sitting at Foster’s side reading something on his phone.

  Foster’s eyes were open, and glaring at Trance, whom I guessed, had refused to say a word as was his usual. He didn’t do conflict well, and by the look in Foster’s eyes, he knew a storm was a brewin’.

  “What the fuck happened?” Foster seethed.

  Trance grimaced and stood. “I think Viddy and I will…”

  “Sit,” I said, pointing back at the seat. “Foster, they had to take your leg from the knee down.”

  Trance didn’t sit.

  He left, taking Viddy with him.

  Foster stared at me like I’d grown a second head, and then jackknifed up in the bed to stare at the blanket where you could definitely see the outline of his leg missing.

  “You’re telling me that I’ve made it through three tours in the goddamned sandbox,” he said softly. “Countless missions as a SEAL. And the way I lose a motherfuckin’ leg is by some royal BITCH RUNNING ME THE FUCK OVER?”

  I winced as my brother’s voice went from soft and deadly to an all-out roar.

  “They got her, though. She was caught red handed,” Luke said tiredly from behind me.

  We’d all been here all night. Me because I’d been with Mercy. Luke and the rest of them had split their time with Foster and Mercy, going back and forth to hand off updates on the other.

  “And what was her reasoning?” Foster shot back.

  “Revenge,” I said, walking tiredly into the room. “She hated Mercy so much, from the first time she met her, that she took it upon herself to ruin Mercy’s life. She killed Faris Blue after he went into the bathroom after Mercy. Her only reasoning was that she ‘couldn’t let another man have what was her son’s.’”

  Foster snarled a curse. “That fucking bitch!”

  I nodded, looking down at the bed. At the empty spot where my brother’s leg was supposed to be.

  “You ready to talk to the doctor?” I asked.

  “Fuck the doctor,” Foster growled. “Where’s Mercy?”

  I smiled. “The maternity ward. They had to monitor the baby while you were having your foot chopped off.”

  He blinked, then threw the covers off the bed.

  “Get me some crutches,” he ordered.

  I blinked. “You can’t move.”

  “I had a leg amputated; I’m not a cripple,” he snapped.

  “Let me go ask the doctor,” I hesitated.

  Turning around, I walked out to the nurse’s station to the first doctor I saw.

  “I need you to come talk to my brother. Now,” I said hurriedly.

  The man and his bushy eyebrows looked at me in surprise. “Who’s this?”

  Nonetheless, he came with me, picking up the chart when I told him the room number.

  “I’m a cardiologist, not an orthopedic surgeon, but I’ll try my best. Where is he?”

  He accompanied me into Foster’s room, but it was empty.

  “Motherfucker,” I sighed, and then said, “Never mind. I know where he is.”

  I found him exactly where I thought he’d be.

  In bed, directly next to my wife.

  His wounded leg propped up on a pillow in the middle of the bed.

  All his cords and drains hooked on the bed and hanging in a jumbled mess at his side.

  How he’d even managed to get in the bed was beyond me, let alone get down here.

  He was always a stubborn one, our Foster. If anyone could tackle this hurdle, it’d be him.

  Mercy sat crying on Foster’s shoulder, her eyes pouring tears as she apologized to him over and over again for ‘bringing that monster into his life.’

  “It’s okay, Mercy Me. We’ll kick life’s ass, you and me together. Linda’s not even a player in our game anymore. I’m just glad you’re alright,” Foster said, leaning his head against hers.

  She didn’t see the revenge in his eyes, though. Didn’t see the rage burning deep.

  A rage so pure and all encompassing, that I knew it’d explode.

  It was just a matter of time.

  ***

 
; Miller

  Three months later

  “Foster’s developed a bit of a reputation around town,” Mercy said, eyeing Foster as he limped up to the front of the restaurant.

  He staggered inside, and not one single person got into his way. He literally had everyone, and I do mean everyone, move out of his way.

  That was because people had a fine-tuned instinct to avoid danger, and Foster was that in a nutshell.

  One hundred percent dangerous. He was a live wire of built up aggression and resentment.

  He didn’t blame anyone, except Linda, for his condition, but he wasn’t giving anybody anything anymore.

  Gone was the carefree Foster who had a laugh for absolutely everyone, and it his place was a man that was so mad at the world that he could barely function.

  He was now known on the force as Crush.

  We’d all seen the video.

  Foster had, impossibly, been the one to apprehend Linda.

  She’d hit us, and then thrown her car into reverse, hitting Foster in her attempt to get away.

  Although he’d been taken down, he was most certainly not out.

  In the video you can see him get up, using only one leg, and take out the car’s tires.

  Linda overcorrects and spins into a tree all in the span of thirty seconds.

  Foster had saved the day, but he’d also lost his leg to a crush injury.

  Hence the nickname ‘Crush,’ and the entire community of Kilgore now looked out for ‘The Crush.’ In fact, he was very well known, as well as the ‘hot cop’ who gave tickets to everyone. Even old ladies.

  “What are you smiling about?” Mercy asked me.

  “You see that girl over there?” I asked, pointing towards the booth by the door.

  “Yes,” Mercy said, turning her gaze to the old man and the young woman eating lunch together.

  The girl was a spitfire.

  Something half the department had witnessed when she’d come in to protest a ticket that Foster had written her grandfather.

  “Foster wrote that old man a ticket yesterday morning, and the granddaughter came in to protest it. She lit into Foster like I’d never seen before, and I thought Foster was going to lose his new-found cool.” I laughed, thinking about his reaction he’d had to her. “But he held on to it, just barely, and then she knocked into his shoulder on her way out.”