Fear Gives Men Wings: Prologue

FEAR GIVES MEN WINGS
         David Gebbins was running for his life. I was hot on his tail, following his every twist and turn, dodging the trash cans he sent sprawling in my direction. The rain was coming down; a torrid shower drenching everything in its path. Thunder battled lightning for dominance in the sky above as Gebbins kept sprinting.
         I knew he wasn’t conditioned for this type of chase. I was the lion and he was the lamb. The longer he tried to escape the quicker he would tire, and the quicker I would gain on him. Until I was upon him, ripping him apart with lead claws. I could smell the fear in his every breath; he was going to die and I was going to be the one to kill him.
         Gebbins dashed through an open door. I followed quickly behind him into a long hallway. The building was a tenement, decrepit from floor to ceiling, trash overflowing in trash cans, doors with faded numbers and broken handles. The hall I entered ran from the back of the building to the front of it, doors opposite each other from end to end.
         Gebbins had disappeared. I stopped and took a breath. Behind any one of these doors he could be waiting, finger on the trigger. I moved cautiously down the hall, the fluorescent lights flickering on and off. Moving from side to side, I tried the door handles, finding them all locked. Halfway down the hall I heard a creak at the furthest door on my left. A sliver of golden light spilled into the hall. Tensing, I approached the door, pistol trained on that sliver.
         The door burst open and Gebbins stuck a shotgun in my face. I reacted quickly, using my free hand to grab the barrel and push it up and away. He pulled the trigger, blasting the ceiling. I pulled hard forward. Gebbins lurched toward me and I smashed his face with the butt of the pistol. As he cried in agony, and blood spurted from his shattered nose, I ripped the shotgun out of his hands and tossed it back into the room.
         He was on his knees, his face a mix of blood and tears. I raised the pistol and pressed the barrel to his forehead.
         I opened my mouth to speak when I was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a pump action shotgun being reloaded.
         The shotgun I had thrown back into the room had landed at the feet of Gebbins’ terrified mistress or wife. I wasn’t really sure but staring down the barrel of a shotgun I didn’t have time for questions.
         “Drop the gun or I’ll blow you away!” She was dressed in a white nightgown, her blonde hair let loose and flowing just over her shoulders. The light from the lamp behind her gave her an almost heavenly glow.
An angel with a pump action shotgun.
“If you don’t drop that shotgun, I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill him. If you value your life more than you value his, you’ll put that gun on the floor, real slow.”
“I said drop the goddamn gun or I’ll blow your brains out all over the walls of this place!” The angel’s face contorted as she spat the words at me. The shotgun was shaking in her hands.
My tone was level, calm. “I don’t care what you say or how you say it. If you don’t drop that gun right now, you are going to die.”
         She stood, staring at me in defiance with tears streaming down her cheeks.
         “Fine,” I said, “but the safety is on.”
         She looked down at the gun for the safety switch that wasn’t there. I kicked Gebbins in the chest and sent him falling backward toward the front of the hall. Grabbing the door handle and slamming the door shut, I ducked just as the angel blasted the door with a round. Splinters were sent everywhere and the door had a new window. I popped up and put my gun through the hole in the door. I fired a round low and caught her in the knee. She went down in a cry of agony.
         “Should’ve listened to me!” I growled through the hole in the door. “Now, stay down!”
         I looked to the right as Gebbins spilled out of the front door and into the rain soaked streets. I stood and sprinted out the door after him.
         He was in the middle of the street when I aimed my pistol at him. The silver P226 Sig Sauer was loaded with .40 rounds; way too much power but the contract had said a statement needed to be made. The gun glinted in the glow of the street lamp. Rain seemed to slow down as I aimed; every drop became visible, splashing onto my gun as I held it steady. I fired once. He fell face first and smashed his head onto the curb. It bounced up with a sickening thud.
         Sirens sang in the distance. Someone had called the cops. I moved quickly to finish the job. He was crawling on his belly, blood pouring out of the hole in his back and onto the pavement. I rolled him over with a swift kick in the midsection. He cried out loud but said nothing. I leveled my gaze into his eyes as I leveled my silver death dealer to his chest.
         “There is nothing certain in a man’s life but that he might lose it.” I said, keeping my eyes level with his, as lightning tore open the sky.
         Gebbins stared back at me.
         I pulled the trigger.