Re: Decisions AUwA (Mature) 12/13/10
Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 11:31 am
Inside the Parker ranch house:
McCarthy had his back to them - peering out the window and looking for any intruders. As Jeff Parker lay there watching the man, he heard the walkie talkie on the table suddenly squawk into operation.
"We are back at the driveway to the ranch. We should be there in a minute or two. Don't get trigger-happy."
As McCarthy strode past to pick up the phone, Jeff quietly rolled over to position himself so the man would have to step over - or at least close to him - as he went back to the door. The two officers were spreading out and doing the same. They'd have only one chance at this. They knew they needed to make this work.
"I'll be watching for you," said McCarthy, standing at the table.
"Any difficulty with your ... guests?" asked Williams.
"Naww... at least nothing I couldn't easily handle," said McCarthy. He put down the walkie-talkie and turned, taking two steps before realizing his prisoners had been up to something. By then Jeff was able to kick out with his feet, despite the tape on his ankles, and knock McCarthy's feet out from under him. With his hands behind him, there was little else Jeff could do. Even so, he quickly rolled over - trying to use his bound legs to pin the man's ankles against the floor, impedi ng him from being able to get himself upright before the other two captives could close in, hoping that one of them could get their hands on the weapon in McCarthy's waist band. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do. It was very nearly enough...
As Jeff Parker's feet took his own out from under him, McCarthy was surprised, but even before he hit the ground, the surprise had become anger.
'I am going to KILL that son of a bitch,' McCarthy thought, as he impacted heavily, his outstretched hands just barely managing to break his fall, saving his face from taking the impact. Even that turned out to be a problem though.
Before the dust even settled from his fall, both Pemberton and Valenti were rolled up against him on either side, their back to him but their own bound hands grabbing at his belt on the one side while the other reached for the pistol in his waistband. He wanted to struggle to his feet, but before he could even get started, Jeff's legs came pounding down to immobilize his ankles - even as he felt the hands of the deputy slip the pistol from his waistband.
Of course grabbing a pistol, and actually having it in a position to fire it were two different things - particularly when it was behind your back. Pemberton had grabbed the semiautomatic handgun by the slide, but with both a manual and handgrip safety, you certainly couldn't fire the weapon that way - nor could you tell with any certainty exactly which way the barrel was pointed even if you could. Pemberton struggled mightily to switch the gun from his left hand - which was gripping the slide - and slip it grip-first into his right palm. The procedure was complicated not just by having to do it behind his back with his wrists taped together, but by the writhings of the outstretched McCarthy himself. Twice ha almost had it - each time having it knocked again onto the floor and grab for it again.
Jim Valenti was just hanging on for dear life. He had his hands tied behind him, but they were firmly gripping McCarthy's belt. As McCarthy brought his hands down he held himself close to the man's body, at least impeding the right hand from getting to his waistband with his bulk. It was then that the man's free right hand started raining down blows against the top of Jim's head.
The blows were - at first - ineffectual. It was just too awkward an angle for McCarthy to get a clean shot at him, but as the man used his left hand to lever his body up slightly, he opened a better path for the blows and they began to rain down on the top of his head.
'Two can play THAT game,' thought Jim Valenti.
McCarthy knew he was winning the battle with the sheriff, and as he backed in to the deputy again he heard - yet again - the clatter of his pistol being dropped on to the floor. Already he was kicking off the feet encumbering his legs. If he could just keep the deputy from picking up the gun for another couple seconds, he thought as he elevated his fist to prepare to send it crashing down into the right temple of Jim Valenti, but the blow never fell as Jim arched his back suddenly - unexpectedly - and sent the back of his head crashing back into the face of McCarthy. There was a sickening crunch in his nasal cartilage, and pain burst forth from his face.
"Unnnhhh," screamed McCarthy, noticing as he did that he'd send a fine mist of blood spraying over the back of Jim Valenti's head with each exhalation.
Still, it wasn't the first time he'd ever gotten the nose broken. He struggled to put enough distance between himself and Valenti that he could get a hand between them and once that was done he pushed hard - shoving the sheriff away while at the same time jamming himself against Pembroke and rolling onto his back, trapping the gun underneath him. After that McCarthy kept Jim off woth one hand while sending elbow after elbow into Pembroke and - once he got the first leg free - was able to kick Jeff Parker's legs away from his ankles and thrust himself up on elbows long enough to reach behind him and get the gun. Both law enforcement officers had their back to him and he struck Jim Valenti first across the back of the head - not rendering him totally unconscious but stunning him enough that the sheriff released his grip on McCarthy's belt and allowing him to gain the time to strike a second blow against the head of Pemberton. After that he staggered to his feet - kicking first one and then the other two men in the midsection.
It had been a valiant effort by the three captives, but the disadvantages of having their wrists taped behind them and their ankles taped together had been just too much for even three of them to overcome. McCarthy, however, hardly appreciated the valor of the effort. He flicked off the safety and pressed the barrel on the forehead of Jim Valenti, pressing his head down to the floor with the barrel as he wiped his own bloody nose with the sleeve of his left hand...
"You bastard," he screamed. "... you broke my fuggin' dose,...now I'm gonna put a fuggin' bullet through your fuggin' brain."
He heard the 'click' as McCarthy pushed the thumb safety forward and Jim Valenti closed his eyes. A lot of things go through your mind when you know you are going to die... his last thoughts were of Kyle and Jim wondere what kind of life his son would have ... and while he was at it, Jim wondered why he'd never found the courage to ask Amy DeLuca for a date. Maybe it would be better that he hadn't he thought - after all she'd already had one guy leave her. She didn't need to be a widow too, he told himself, not altogether convincingly.
The radio cracked to life:
"We're almost out front," announced Williams, "....come give us a hand with these fuel cans, I want to get this over..."
The pistol barrel came off his forehead and he heard again the 'click' as the thumb safety was once again engaged. McCarthy looked down at Jim ... looked at all three of the men really and growled out at them, "Shooting's too good for any of you, why don't you just lay there a few minutes while I go get the gasoline. Think about what it's going to feel like to be burned alive."
"You OK, Sheriff?" asked Pemberton.
"As well as could be expected ... under the circumstances," replied Jim.
"Sorry sir, I did my best, but with my hands tied together..."
"Yeah, me too," agreed Jim. "At least I was able to break the bastards nose."
"That's something, I guess," agreed Pemberton.
"Jeff..?" said Valenti.
"Yeah, Jim?"
"In the unlikely even we get out of here alive, I'd like you to do me a favor."
"Anything, Sheriff. What do you want?"
"If we do get out of here, and if I haven't asked Amy DeLuca out within 48 hours, kick my butt, OK?"
From the other side of the room the two women had watched the brief struggle, at first with hope and finally with resignation. They lay there with the comatose young man that each loved between them and their eyes locked on one another.
"I am so sorry, Liz," said Diane, "... I would have so loved to have you as a daughter."
Liz nodded. "I'm sorry, too Diane. I guess it was just never meant to be."
They both looked to the open door where they could see McCarthy already approaching the oncoming pickup truck. It would not be long. Diane looked back to Liz to see the girl scooting awkwardly and painfully closer to Max .. finally stretching out as her lips neared his face. There was a soft kiss and she heard Liz quietly say.
"I'm sorry, Max. Maybe in our next lives...."
Diane thought her heart would break...
McCarthy had his back to them - peering out the window and looking for any intruders. As Jeff Parker lay there watching the man, he heard the walkie talkie on the table suddenly squawk into operation.
"We are back at the driveway to the ranch. We should be there in a minute or two. Don't get trigger-happy."
As McCarthy strode past to pick up the phone, Jeff quietly rolled over to position himself so the man would have to step over - or at least close to him - as he went back to the door. The two officers were spreading out and doing the same. They'd have only one chance at this. They knew they needed to make this work.
"I'll be watching for you," said McCarthy, standing at the table.
"Any difficulty with your ... guests?" asked Williams.
"Naww... at least nothing I couldn't easily handle," said McCarthy. He put down the walkie-talkie and turned, taking two steps before realizing his prisoners had been up to something. By then Jeff was able to kick out with his feet, despite the tape on his ankles, and knock McCarthy's feet out from under him. With his hands behind him, there was little else Jeff could do. Even so, he quickly rolled over - trying to use his bound legs to pin the man's ankles against the floor, impedi ng him from being able to get himself upright before the other two captives could close in, hoping that one of them could get their hands on the weapon in McCarthy's waist band. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do. It was very nearly enough...
As Jeff Parker's feet took his own out from under him, McCarthy was surprised, but even before he hit the ground, the surprise had become anger.
'I am going to KILL that son of a bitch,' McCarthy thought, as he impacted heavily, his outstretched hands just barely managing to break his fall, saving his face from taking the impact. Even that turned out to be a problem though.
Before the dust even settled from his fall, both Pemberton and Valenti were rolled up against him on either side, their back to him but their own bound hands grabbing at his belt on the one side while the other reached for the pistol in his waistband. He wanted to struggle to his feet, but before he could even get started, Jeff's legs came pounding down to immobilize his ankles - even as he felt the hands of the deputy slip the pistol from his waistband.
Of course grabbing a pistol, and actually having it in a position to fire it were two different things - particularly when it was behind your back. Pemberton had grabbed the semiautomatic handgun by the slide, but with both a manual and handgrip safety, you certainly couldn't fire the weapon that way - nor could you tell with any certainty exactly which way the barrel was pointed even if you could. Pemberton struggled mightily to switch the gun from his left hand - which was gripping the slide - and slip it grip-first into his right palm. The procedure was complicated not just by having to do it behind his back with his wrists taped together, but by the writhings of the outstretched McCarthy himself. Twice ha almost had it - each time having it knocked again onto the floor and grab for it again.
Jim Valenti was just hanging on for dear life. He had his hands tied behind him, but they were firmly gripping McCarthy's belt. As McCarthy brought his hands down he held himself close to the man's body, at least impeding the right hand from getting to his waistband with his bulk. It was then that the man's free right hand started raining down blows against the top of Jim's head.
The blows were - at first - ineffectual. It was just too awkward an angle for McCarthy to get a clean shot at him, but as the man used his left hand to lever his body up slightly, he opened a better path for the blows and they began to rain down on the top of his head.
'Two can play THAT game,' thought Jim Valenti.
McCarthy knew he was winning the battle with the sheriff, and as he backed in to the deputy again he heard - yet again - the clatter of his pistol being dropped on to the floor. Already he was kicking off the feet encumbering his legs. If he could just keep the deputy from picking up the gun for another couple seconds, he thought as he elevated his fist to prepare to send it crashing down into the right temple of Jim Valenti, but the blow never fell as Jim arched his back suddenly - unexpectedly - and sent the back of his head crashing back into the face of McCarthy. There was a sickening crunch in his nasal cartilage, and pain burst forth from his face.
"Unnnhhh," screamed McCarthy, noticing as he did that he'd send a fine mist of blood spraying over the back of Jim Valenti's head with each exhalation.
Still, it wasn't the first time he'd ever gotten the nose broken. He struggled to put enough distance between himself and Valenti that he could get a hand between them and once that was done he pushed hard - shoving the sheriff away while at the same time jamming himself against Pembroke and rolling onto his back, trapping the gun underneath him. After that McCarthy kept Jim off woth one hand while sending elbow after elbow into Pembroke and - once he got the first leg free - was able to kick Jeff Parker's legs away from his ankles and thrust himself up on elbows long enough to reach behind him and get the gun. Both law enforcement officers had their back to him and he struck Jim Valenti first across the back of the head - not rendering him totally unconscious but stunning him enough that the sheriff released his grip on McCarthy's belt and allowing him to gain the time to strike a second blow against the head of Pemberton. After that he staggered to his feet - kicking first one and then the other two men in the midsection.
It had been a valiant effort by the three captives, but the disadvantages of having their wrists taped behind them and their ankles taped together had been just too much for even three of them to overcome. McCarthy, however, hardly appreciated the valor of the effort. He flicked off the safety and pressed the barrel on the forehead of Jim Valenti, pressing his head down to the floor with the barrel as he wiped his own bloody nose with the sleeve of his left hand...
"You bastard," he screamed. "... you broke my fuggin' dose,...now I'm gonna put a fuggin' bullet through your fuggin' brain."
He heard the 'click' as McCarthy pushed the thumb safety forward and Jim Valenti closed his eyes. A lot of things go through your mind when you know you are going to die... his last thoughts were of Kyle and Jim wondere what kind of life his son would have ... and while he was at it, Jim wondered why he'd never found the courage to ask Amy DeLuca for a date. Maybe it would be better that he hadn't he thought - after all she'd already had one guy leave her. She didn't need to be a widow too, he told himself, not altogether convincingly.
The radio cracked to life:
"We're almost out front," announced Williams, "....come give us a hand with these fuel cans, I want to get this over..."
The pistol barrel came off his forehead and he heard again the 'click' as the thumb safety was once again engaged. McCarthy looked down at Jim ... looked at all three of the men really and growled out at them, "Shooting's too good for any of you, why don't you just lay there a few minutes while I go get the gasoline. Think about what it's going to feel like to be burned alive."
"You OK, Sheriff?" asked Pemberton.
"As well as could be expected ... under the circumstances," replied Jim.
"Sorry sir, I did my best, but with my hands tied together..."
"Yeah, me too," agreed Jim. "At least I was able to break the bastards nose."
"That's something, I guess," agreed Pemberton.
"Jeff..?" said Valenti.
"Yeah, Jim?"
"In the unlikely even we get out of here alive, I'd like you to do me a favor."
"Anything, Sheriff. What do you want?"
"If we do get out of here, and if I haven't asked Amy DeLuca out within 48 hours, kick my butt, OK?"
From the other side of the room the two women had watched the brief struggle, at first with hope and finally with resignation. They lay there with the comatose young man that each loved between them and their eyes locked on one another.
"I am so sorry, Liz," said Diane, "... I would have so loved to have you as a daughter."
Liz nodded. "I'm sorry, too Diane. I guess it was just never meant to be."
They both looked to the open door where they could see McCarthy already approaching the oncoming pickup truck. It would not be long. Diane looked back to Liz to see the girl scooting awkwardly and painfully closer to Max .. finally stretching out as her lips neared his face. There was a soft kiss and she heard Liz quietly say.
"I'm sorry, Max. Maybe in our next lives...."
Diane thought her heart would break...