The Bernie Factor
Page 35
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Whiteside shot his head around and spun on his heels to confront the stranger. All he received was the darkness of the night and the cricket’s melody rolling over the pastures. He stood motionless, but heard nothing outside of an occasional cow moo as it meandered through the adjoining fields. Just as he previously felt complete composure in the face of uncertainty, his sinewy muscles tightened as a cloud of confusion rolled in and enveloped him.
“You might want to hop back in the car, Sporto. You’ve got bigger fish to fry than worrying about a fight that’s not going to happen. You are a peculiar ole boy, aren’t you?”
“Show yourself, God Dammit!” Whiteside shouted. He heard the voice as plain as day, but it was just him and the dog. And the voice was so clear, like it came from inside his head or was spoken directly into both ears simultaneously. He drew his pistol, not really sure where to point the weapon. He waved the weapon across the road into the brush on the other side, even though he knew the voice came from much closer, like right on top of him.
“Quit playing the fool and get back in the car before you hurt somebody or shoot your damn self in the foot or something ignorant like that. You hear me, boy?”
Whiteside’s mind snapped as he lowered his finger from the trigger guard and dropped his index finger into the trigger well and squeezed. The gun recoiled in his hand in quick succession with each trigger pull. He saw the muzzle flash, felt the pistol kick back and up, but he heard nothing. He had no idea how many rounds he cranked off into the blackness before his sense of hearing returned. More disturbing, he had no target acquisition, thereby he had no idea what he was shooting at or might have hit.
The last two rounds echoed in his ears. He lowered his arm to his side and let the firearm dangle below his waist. The smell of cordite hung in the cool night air as his heart beat thumped through his entire body, making him feel like some type of percussion instrument. He wanted to jump in the car, but remained still, expecting an unseen adversary to leap from the shadows and take him down while he was unprepared. As the minutes ticked by in silence, jumping in the car and speeding away from here seemed like the most logical thing to do.
Devoid of any emotion, he tucked the pistol in the rear of his waistband and calmly positioned himself in the driver’s seat. The keys sat inside the ignition. He looked at them for several seconds before turning them and starting the car. The Mercedes eight cylinders roared to life. He dropped the gearshift into drive and smashed the accelerator to the floor. The car’s rear tires fish tailed on the shoulder’s gravel before he righted the car and sped back toward Pine Valley.
“Hooowee!” screamed the voice inside his head. “I feel the G’s!”