Chapter 3 - Bitter Introductions

Bitter Introductions





It took me a week to get there. I was about half-starved the whole way. If I had been smart, I would have stolen a rifle from Wendover so I could at least hunt on my way. I haven't shot for a while. My dad took me when I was really little, then my mom's friend took me to the shooting range every once in a while. But my new family hated guns. They thought they were evil. So I haven't shot a gun for eight years. I was pretty good back then, but I don't know about now. Let's just say I was relieved when I arrived in Grouse Creek where I could get my hands on some good food. I was sick of cheese sandwiches. Now I just had to find some firepower. I knew Grouse Creek had some, the problem is it's probably illegal so I'll have to ask around. I camped out in an old abandoned house behind the school. The guys that own it only come out once a year, so I should be safe. Now I just had to ask the right people and get the information I needed. My first stop was to get a gun. Any gun would do. I just needed one just in case. I just needed something to last until I got some real firepower. I got my hands on a shotgun. I picked it up from an old Mexican a few miles South of Grouse Creek. He won't be missed. My second stop was a rancher by the name of Jeff. He lived in a valley on the north end of Grouse Creek. He was a big farmer with a lot of cows and horses. He was on his way to being rich. He used to work for my dad so I thought I'd ask him. I had never met him before, but I'm sure he'd remember my dad. I dropped off my stuff at the front gate of his property. I thought I'd better travel light in case I had to run. I loaded up my Frinesi Automatic 12-gauge shotgun. I hoped I didn't have to use it. I went through the gate and started toward his house. Lucky for me, he was working in the yard. "Jeff?" He looked up. "Who the crap are you, and what are you doing on my property?" "I just came to ask you a few questions," I replied cooly. "You haven't answered my question," Jeff yelled. He sounded angry. "Who are you?" "My name is Noah Young," I started. "You worked for my dad Mike." Jeff just stared at me for a minute. "You're his son? Oh, right. He talked about you a lot." This didn't sound right. My dad didn't talk much, let alone about me. "Did you know your dad didn't like you?" I didn't say anything. I just glared. "He talked of getting rid of you, putting you up for adoption. He wanted to get a better kid, one with a better attitude...." That was all I could stand. I pulled out the shotgun, cocked it, and pointed it right at his face. "Oh," he replied, "That's how you want to do it, is it?" I could see him pull out the Glock, but I couldn't shoot him. I needed answers. He fired two shots. I dodged them both and took cover behind an old Camaro. "Come on out, pansy!" he screamed, followed by two more shots. I had to do something. I fired a warning shot in his direction. He was unphased. "Is that the best you can do!" he screamed. "You're going to die today!" He fired three shots through the Camaro's windows. I could hear the bullets zing past my ear. This guy was really getting on my nerves. I jumped up and ran across the lawn, firing the shotgun as I went. One got him in the leg. He didn't seem to care. He just stood there. Then he started laughing. He found this funny. So I shot him again in the arm. Now he was pissed off. He squeezed off a few more rounds. One grazed my arm. I dove behind a boulder and tried to think up a new plan. Jeff kept firing. I had no idea what he was shooting at. That's when I heard it. It was music to my ears. First was the click. Then there was the chink as the empty clip fell and hit the ground. He was out. Here was my chance. I jumped out from behind the boulder and tackled him. We wrestled on the ground for a minute but he was weak from the loss of blood. Pretty soon he gave in. I got up and pointed the shotgun at his head. "Are you ready to answer my questions now?" I asked him. "Fine. What do you want to know?" he replied. I was impressed. He was pretty brave for having a 12-gauge cocked in his face. "That's a pretty nice Glock. Where'd you get it?" I asked. He just glared and asked, "Why should I tell you?" I sighed. Poor man. So naive. "Listen, jerk. My mother was killed by some rich guy with body guards and I'm going after him. I need good firepower. Like that Glock." Seeing as he was screwed no matter what he said, Jeff gave me all the information I needed. There was an old man by the name of Sam Jenkins in a deep rocky canyon about twenty five miles east of Grouse Creek. I had to be careful. Apparently he has been out in the hot sun too long and is a little crazy. He had a motherload of illegal firearms. Just what I needed. Seeing as I was done with Jeff, I had to get rid of him. After that fight we just had, I couldn't let him go to the police. There couldn't be any witnesses that I was here. So I did the only thing I could. I blew his head to pieces. And I took his Glock. But what about the body? Hmm......he had a nice fire going....................

You are not authorized to comment here. Your must be registered and logged in to comment