Page 2 of My Monster's Keeper
Packwell starts to laugh. The others join in, and I finally get a clear view of the last man. It’s a rookie from another station. Wait, I know those shoulders. I recognise that jawline.
“Grant?”
He’s pale and sweating, staring at me with enormous eyes. Oh, god. I can see the exact moment he realises we’re both fucked, and we need to go down fighting. I see in the next moment that he realises we can’t both get away. He’s close to the building with all the cops between him and freedom. I, on the other hand, am on the outer edge, near the squad cars and in sight of the corner of the building which could be my ticket to escape. He’s working it out the same way I’m working it out.
Then he makes the decision that I would have made if our positions were reversed. I know it because we think the same.
He reaches for his gun, and I shake my head. My movement catches the attention of Rocklea, who turns. The fat rolls on the back of his head protruding and making him look like he’s got no neck.
“Rocklea!” I shout, but it’s too late. He’s turned and seen Grant’s fingers near his gun.
I watch in slow motion as he pulls his weapon and smoothly shoots my brother. The bang is louder than I could have imagined. Grant stumbles back, gripping his chest. He blinks a few times and looks at me.
He opens his mouth, and blood pours out.
“You stupid piece of shit!” Rocklea spits. “You son of a bitch. Dumb cunt.”
I stare at Grant, who has slid to the pavement and is lying there, his chest moves up and down frantically, faster and faster, and then it just stops. There’s no movement. I stare, leaning towards him, willing his chest to rise.
Oh, god. Oh, shit. Grant.
I bite my cheek; I curl my fingers into my fist and dig my nails into my palm, but it doesn’t erase his body or make him get up.
“Grant, please.”
Grant’s dead. The pain threatens to tear my mind apart, but I shove it deep into a box.
I turn on his murderers.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I promise Packwell.
“Not a good attitude for a cop,” Rocklea taunts. He grabs a bottle of beer from Lee and drinks deep, keeping his eyes locked on me.
I glance at Grant and feel my throat close over. I tear my eyes away and focus on Rocklea.
“You’re not a cop,” I snarl.
The others are standing around Grant’s body, but Lee comes back over to us with another beer in his hands. He’s tall and thin and always has this expression like he’s smelled something unpleasant. He’s got this arrogant countenance that is almost like he thinks he’s a god.
“Well, shit’s in the fire now, Packwell. What are we gonna do?”
“Kill ‘em both. We’ll call it a banger hit.”
I gape at him. The callousness of killing a cop and planning the murder of another is mind-boggling.
I look around the deserted car park. There have been no cars in the twenty minutes we’ve been here. No people walking past. It truly is a forgotten, deserted end of town. The abandoned mall down on Seventh used to be crime central, but a year ago, something happened, and now even the hardest thugs wouldn’t step foot here in daylight or dark.
So, why are we here?
I flinch when thunder cuts through the chilly air. On the back of that sound, a stiff, icy wind blows, bringing the temperature down further, and the scent of rain dances in the air. I shiver and ease onto the ball of my back foot.
Lightning turns the world purple and white. I throw myself to the left, rolling and then getting up and low. I run, aiming for the corner of the building. If I can make it to the other side, I might have a chance. My lungs burn, my muscles stretch. Everything in the world is moving in slow motion. I can see the first drops of rain, the flutter of a hamburger wrapper. Bullets fly past my head, slamming into concrete and spitting up chips. My heart screams in my chest, pounding as I force myself to run faster. Anticipation prepares me for the bullets that will slam into my body, rip me apart, and take me to an early grave.
The corner is right there when I see something that makes my mind revolt.
I slam to a halt, losing my footing and going down hard on my ass.
The big, dark shape on the wall turns its head, watching me as I scramble backwards. My eyes open wide to the point of pain, staring, unable to look away, my mouth opens to scream, but no sounds come out.
