Джеймс Суэйн - The Man Who Cheated Death

Osbourne dropped the rifle, and clutched his leg. Blood spurted out of his right thigh in a burst of red.

Wondero shot him again.

The bullet ripped through his costume. Osbourne toppled forward and fell off the concession stand. He hit the ground hard, his head jerking painfully to the side as he landed.

Wondero hoped he was dead.

It was not to be. Osbourne was still breathing, his eyes blinking wildly.

“You’re under arrest. Put your hands where I can see them.”

“I think my neck’s broken.” Osbourne began to flop around like a dying fish. “I can’t move my arms or my legs.”

Wondero thought back to Mr. Kozlowski, who’d admitted that his basement was filled with victims. Perhaps this was the punishment that serial killers got for their crimes.

Wondero frisked him anyway. In the pockets of Osbourne’s clown pants he found a handgun and a knife. Wondero decided he was still a threat, and handcuffed Osbourne’s wrists behind his back. Osbourne screamed at him.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Osbourne said.

“Shut up,” Wondero replied.

“I’ll tell you what’s funny. I killed Hardare, and you couldn’t stop me.”

“I said, shut up.”

“I win, and you lose.”

The word hit Wondero hard. Osbourne was right. He’d had the chance to save Hardare, and he’d blown it.

A cheer went up on the other side of the carnival. The sound was filled with hope, and Wondero lifted his head and stared.

“What was that? What’s going on?” Osbourne said.

“You were wrong.”

Grabbing Osbourne by the back of his clown suit, Wondero pulled him off the ground, and pointed him in the direction of the sound. Osbourne drank in the sight of what had happened.

“NO!!!” Osbourne screamed.

Wondero brought his lips up to the serial killer’s ear.

“I win, Eugene.”

Hardare opened his eyes, thinking he was dead.

Above him, the stars twinkled and a cool wind blew across his face. His first impression of life after death was wonderful; there was no pain or feelings of remorse, in fact, it felt exactly like he was lying on a giant mattress.

His fingers pressed down. He was lying on a mattress, and he cautiously lifted his head.

The earth spun for a moment, then settled down to normal speed. Somehow, he was floating in the air, the carnival crowd below being calmed by the police.

He sat up stiffly, and tried to make sense of what had happened. Sliding to the edge of the mattress, he saw that he was sitting atop the Action 10 van, the mattress having been securely tied to its roof with bungee cords. Jan and Crystal stood below, and waved frantically to him. He snapped one of the bungee cords. “Was this your idea?” he asked.

“Yes,” his wife said.

“Didn’t want me working without a net, huh?”

His wife nodded, and burst into tears.

He jumped down and embraced his family. As the Action 10 cameraman zoomed in, he realized he was still on the air. Jayne Hunter stuck a mike in his face.

“Hardare, that was one hell of a show.”

“Thanks. Did they capture the man shooting at us?”

“They got him,” a policeman standing off camera said.

“We’re still on the air,” Hunter said. “Anything you care to leave us with?”

His mind raced. What did you say after seeing your life flash before your eyes? Nothing appropriate came to mind.

Hunter gave him a pleading look. She wanted the segment to end on a high note, and he flashed his best smile for the camera.

“All good things must come to an end,” Hardare said. “This is the last time I perform an escape where put my life at risk. I hope you enjoyed it.”

Jan gave him a squeeze, and he looked into her eyes.

“Thank you,” his wife said.

From The Los Angeles Times Classified section

For sale: Lakers/Celtics tickets, third row,

Clippers/Jazz, fifth row, Kings/Bruins, behind

penalty box. Also, Elton John/Hollywood Bowl,

Lady Gaga/Forum. Some Hardare tickets still

left (balcony only). Call Larry, 949-1981, eves.