Ed Lacy - Dead End

Flat on my back... nobody ever did that in the ring. Why is the sky so dark? I'll squeeze the trigger... can't aim, not trying to... Got to keep them off... Be sure I die. I want to die alone, just... Must be a lot of slugs hitting me. So this is dying? They don't hurt. Like mosquito bites when Nate and I are on a picnic. Like to be on one now. “Sure, I'll find some firewood.... ”

It don't hurt but my body is jerking with each bullet. Must weigh a ton... What's the bad joke about the guy full of lead and... Oh! the pain... Damn fire, almost reached my brain that time. Ah, that's a little better. I always could take it. Can I take much more of this?

How much...? Hey, the sky is no longer dark, it's bright red now. What is this, a sunset? Where is Doc... shooting at me? I'm still laughing at Doc... only it sounds like a rattle.

If I could be sure they can't patch me up, I'd let them take me just so I could laugh right in Doc's fox-face. Old superior Doc with his big talk and bigger words... Must be thinking right this second how his plans are going like clockwork. In a day or two, when he's off on sick leave, he'll quietly take a plane, or drive like mad for Syracuse, to pick up the dough. Or has he got somebody there waiting for it? Somebody that will end up like me, full of bullets? It's a laugh.

I don't know if I'm hysterical with pain or laughter. The... Through everything I can feel the vibration of steps on the cement floor. I squeeze the trigger once.... How many shells have I left?... The steps stop. My trigger finger is sticky... those damn strawberries.

I want to shout. I yell, “Doc! Doc! It's the joke of the year... how sure you were of me. Dumb Bucky! And... and now you won't get dollar one....”

Yeah, I damn near pulled it off, despite Doc. Did I push my luck too far? Why did I have to return to the house, play the game out to the last card?... For the hundred grand.... When I had all the money for my...

The steps are coming again. Where's the trigger? Where's... Is this death? I don't feel a thing, not even the dull pain... only the thin pumping of my stuttering heart.

I want to die... Only, ah... if I could just see the look on Doc's face when he reaches that hotel... If I could tell him to his sharp face how I've switched labels on the packages... was going to head for California... where I'd sent all the money to myself. The old switcheroo, Doc. To Bucky Laspiza... my real self... care of Nate out on the... Coast.

Who the... hell... will get the money now? Nate? No, he'll turn it... But Doc... sure won't get any....

Oh God. Oh Mom.... Nate! Nate! I'm... so... so tired. Dad, I can't... even laugh... no moree....