Dead Man Below Deck

Chapter 18. Confrontation

It was amazing how a couple or three beers could lead to brilliant thinking. The beer and the brainstorming had explained everything. I was feeling pretty smug as I walked back home. That lasted until I got behind the Citgo station to cut over to my street. It was dark back there. That was when I remembered the drug ring still wanted to kill me. Didn’t Broder tell me to avoid dark alleys? Maybe beer didn’t make me as smart as I had first thought.

When I looked over my shoulder, I could see someone on a bicycle quietly rolling toward me around the corner of the gas station. And when I looked forward, I saw another biker coming around the other corner of the station. This was not good. I couldn’t outrun them when I had wheels. What chance did I have on foot?

All I could do was try, so I sprinted directly away from the station and down the side street. The bikers had to negotiate past a cement barrier that had been placed behind the station to prevent cars from using it as a through street. That gave me a few seconds to gain some distance on them. My only chance was to run between houses, cutting through yards, and trying to dodge around obstacles that would slow down the bikers. I had to avoid open spaces. If I ran into a field or a parking lot, they would have no trouble running me down.

I ran as fast as I could. Dodging around houses kept the speed down a little which was good for me. I was not a runner and had never been one. Now I was a 49-year-old college professor who smoked a pipe. The hundred yard dash would have taken me a week to complete.

As I ran through one back yard after another, dogs were starting to bark and I could see lights going on in the backrooms of the houses on the street. If I could just keep away from the bikers until somebody called the cops, I might survive this experience after all.

Then I stopped. I was facing a board fence and could see no way past it. The bikes skidded to a stop on either side of me. My breath was coming in harsh pants and I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. I kicked out at one of the bikers and heard a sharp grunt of pain. Grasping the opportunity, I jumped directly onto him and he went down. Rolling over him, I staggered to my feet and started running again. Skidding around the corner of the nearest house, I nearly fell over a recycling bin filled to the brim with empty cans and bottles. I dumped it over as I went past. It made a welcome racket, a racket that was repeated when my attackers followed me around the house.

My left arm went numb and I was running with an awkward gait. I staggered across the street and stopped, leaning on a lamp pole. I was in bright light. Surely they wouldn’t do anything here.

The bikers had no intention of leaving until their task was finished. They pulled up on either side of me. I couldn’t breathe. The pain in my chest was unbearable. Gasping, I fell to my knees, then over onto my back. One of the bikers stood over me, then he knelt on my chest. Darkness was clouding the corners of my vision as I fought for air. He hesitated a minute, thinking perhaps that mother nature would do his job for him.

Then he decided to make sure. He brought his arm back for a vicious swipe at my neck with his switch blade. I could see his face clearly since he was not wearing the visored helmet. I guess he was committed to leaving no witnesses this time. Then, just as he started to swing his arm down toward my throat, I heard a sharp sound like a firecracker. The biker’s face dissolved into blood and he fell directly onto me. As everything went black, I heard more shooting.