Saturday, June 21, 2014

"HITMEN"--An Excerpt

Hey, all. Here's an excerpt from my upcoming horror/crime novel HITMEN: Four Tales of Magick, Monsters, and Murder. The book will be here before you know it!

* * *

Joey’s twisted ankle swelled. He spat out a curse, gripping his leg while hopping on his other. Sweat drenched his disheveled bangs and they dangled in his face, obscuring his vision. The late afternoon sun leveled its glare on him, casting everything in dazzling diamond sparkles, but he could not slow or falter.

He slipped against the alley wall, knocking over a trash can, but righted himself on the grimy brick, hobbling along. His chest hurt from panting so hard, but he forced himself to keep moving, to get away. Tossing a glance behind him, he was momentarily relieved to see that the thing was no longer following.

Maybe I got a shot at this.

Turning back to the alley mouth, he saw the highway traffic blitzing by up ahead. No way would anyone stop for him—not in his torn jacket with embroidered patches depicting topless biker babes riding atop anarchy symbols, and a prominent upraised middle finger with angel wings across his shoulders. Fatigue threatened to undo him, but he knew he could survive this encounter, if he could just get a ride. Trembling too-thin fingers reached underneath his denim coat to brush the handles of the dual Ruger Super Redhawk .44 Magnums he had tucked in shoulder holsters. He was ready to draw them, to make someone stop for him, when the dark shape stepped into his path seemingly from nowhere, blocking the sun’s warm rays, suffusing him in cold black.

“N-NO!” Joey screamed as a black-gloved hand—impossibly icy—palmed the left side of his face and slammed him against the brick wall. Joey grunted in surprise, spitting out a geyser of blood and a couple teeth. His whole body shaking with shock, he slipped to the wet pavement, sputtering. “Stop…” he pleaded.

One giant boot stepped over him as the shadow descended, reaching for him. The right side of his face was raw meat and he couldn’t see out of that eye anymore, but Joey wasn’t ready to die. Not today. Not by the hand of this thing. Weeping, he rolled onto his back and drew his revolvers. Roaring now, he fired at the looming shape, hurling expletives as fast as bullets.

The thing twitched under the lead assault and Joey laughed, triumphant. He scooped himself up and wobbled back towards the end of the alley, headed for the road again. I’m gonna make it…I’m gonna make it…

His vision was blurry with tears, sweat, and blood, but he could just make out the speeding shapes of traffic. “Pull over,” he mumbled, not nearly loud enough for anyone to oblige. “Please, let me in…”

Weakly he emerged out of the alley, waving his pistols. “Hey,” he said, dreamily, fearing he was slipping into unconsciousness. Upon seeing him, nearby drivers swerved out of his way, honking.

“Wait! Wait, you gotta stop…”

Horns blared, tires screeched, and motorists dodged him as he approached the highway shoulder. “Wait!” he wept after them. “Let me in!”

He watched in helpless dejection as, one by one, cars passed by, his only hope of salvation leaving him behind.

Then he heard the crunch.

Joey whirled around and saw the thing rising to a stand in the alley, no sign of injury. No sign of slowing down. “God, no…” he whimpered.

What horrified him the most was the thing’s face. As the creature stood tall, drawing its strength, its face—that terrible skull face—began to radiate a soft phosphorescent blue glow. Against the backdrop of the shadowed alley, that head almost seemed to float, detached, and Joey could see nothing now but the grinning blue death’s head staring back at him. Moving for him.

“No!” he held out his hands as though they would keep the monster at bay. The thing stalked for him, ready to leave the alley behind and join him any second. Joey stumbled back into traffic, still flapping his arms, begging, weeping. “Get back! Stay away from me! I didn’t do nuthin!” 
A thunderous horn roared in his ear and Joey glimpsed the eighteen-wheeler bearing down on him too late—

Copyright 2014 Greg Mitchell

1 comment:

Deborah Cullins Smith said...

Awesome, Greg!! Looking forward to the complete book.