Outrunning Villainy

Chapter 13: Dylan's Last Stand

Chapter 13: Dylan’s Last Stand





Andrew called in sick to work and he lay on his bed. Evan was downstairs fixing breakfast before heading off to work. He’d been unable to find a sub; therefore he had to go in. Andrew opened his eyes and Evan appeared in the doorway holding a tray of bacon and eggs and whole wheat toast. Andrew smiled and sat himself up in bed.


Evan sat the tray down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed.


“Are you going to be okay?”


“I’ll be fine. I’m just exhausted, a day of rest and I’ll be as good as new.”


“Good,” he patted Andrew’s leg, “Well I’ve got go get going. I'll see you in a few hours.”


“I’ll be here.”


“Thank you for breakfast,” he said picking up a piece of toast and chewing slowly.


Evan hurried downstairs to his vehicle and drove away.


He’d made it home, undone the shackles and cuffs in his garage, changed clothes, got his pistol and drove back to Deerfield to finish his plan.


Dylan drove nonchalantly by and watched the house. Andrew sat alone on his bed munching on his breakfast trying to forget the traumatic events of the last few days. Dylan drove a little further up the street. A debate raged within him as to whether or not to risk being seen or risk taking on two people at nighttime. Andrew had the convenience of two nosy neighbors on either side. They both knew Dylan’s face, but he couldn’t wait anymore.


He parked a few houses down from Andrew’s house and looked up and down the street. No one appeared to be out and about today. He felt a little guilty that poor, uninvolved Evan would come home to find Andrew’s head spattered on the wall, but that was his fault for getting mixed up with the duplicitous likes of Andrew Garrison. Dylan put the gun under his jacket and stepped out. It was a blustery November day; Thanksgiving was just around the corner. He walked quickly up to Andrew’s house and went around back. He walked quickly to minimize the chance that Engrid or Dora would be looking out of their windows at any given moment. To his surprise and amazement, the backdoor was unlocked. He slipped inside and pressed himself against the wall. From his spot, he could see up the stairs along the right side of the central hallway up to a door that was potentially Andrew’s bedroom. He stood silent as night trying to ascertain where in the house Andrew might be hiding. He’s played enough games and he was tired of the theatrics. His plan was simple…walk up to Andrew and fire. There would be no lengthy explanations, no begging and pleading, just bang and it would all be over and he could go home and get a good night’s sleep before retrieving his daughter from his villainous ex-mother-in-law who was now charged with Amanda’s keeping.


He glanced around the long, wide hallway trying to decide where Andrew might be. He could be anywhere inside the house. He pulled out his gun and tip toed toward the kitchen door. He smelled breakfast food on the air and thought it quite possible that Andrew was still eating his last meal. No luck. He peeked in the living room and dining room with the same results. That only meant one thing- Andrew was upstairs. Dylan arrived at the base of the stairs. He slowly mounted the first step and stood as still and silent as a statue. He heard a faint rustling sound coming from upstairs. Andrew was definitely up there. He boldly took another stair.


Andrew was finishing his breakfast and putting everything on the tray to take it downstairs and clean it up before lying down on the couch for the rest of the day. He slid over to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor. He froze. He thought he heard something. He waited quietly and heard nothing more. He stood up and looked toward the door. He saw a shadow.


“Who’s there?”


         The shadow stopped.


         “I said, ‘who’s there?’”


         Still no response from the shadow.


         Andrew rushed toward the door and met up with the creator of the shadow. Dylan shoved Andrew back into the bedroom. He stumbled over his own feet and crashed to the floor. Dylan pointed his gun at Andrew’s face.


         “Don’t shoot. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison for this? It just seems so stupid.”


         “I won’t. I’ve made other arrangements.”


         “The police will catch you. They’ll know it was you.”


         That gave Dylan the slightest pause. Suddenly his world descended into flashes of light and darkness. He fell to the floor. Engrid stood over him with a baseball bat in her hand. She’d seen him crossing the street, knew he was up to no good and she decided to intervene. Dylan lay motionless on the hardwood floor. Engrid went over and picked up the phone and dialed the police.


         Andrew stood up and shook his head. “How did you know?”


         “I saw him crossing the street. Andrew, I think it’s time you invested in a security system.”


         “Why? I’ve got you and your Louisville Slugger.”


         “I won’t be around forever, you know.”


         “Your ghost can guard the place.”


         “Nope. Once I’m gone, I’m done with this place…you’re on your own after that.”


         “Can I offer you some breakfast before you go?”


         “No, but do you have any rope?”


         “Probably out on the shed.”


         “Go get it, I’ll stay here with him,” she tapped her bat in her palm, “He won’t go anywhere now.”


         Andrew got up, pulled on a pair of jeans and went down the stairs and retrieved a length of nylon rope from the tool shed in the backyard. The police arrived and hauled Dylan back to jail. This time, permanently.