Split Second Read Free

before pulling the gun free.
    Del wondered how much alcohol Benny Zeeks had in his system. Could he still aim his gun? Was the gun even loaded? Up until today, Brice and Webber transported the hard-core criminals, making the trips up to Glade and Charlotte, while he and Benny were assigned petty thieves and white-collar criminals, escorting them in the other direction to the county courthouse in Miami. Del unbuckled the strap on his holster, his hand shaking, the butt of his gun feeling awkward and unfamiliar.
    The noise stopped as soon as Del started sliding the locks open on the heavy rear door. He looked to Benny who stood beside him with his revolver drawn. Immediately, Del noticed the slight tremor in Benny’s hand. It sent a wave of nausea loose in Del’s stomach. His back was soaked, his forehead dripping. Wet pools under his armpits soiled his once-crisp uniform. His heart pounded against his rib cage, and now in the silence, he wondered if Benny could hear it.
    He took a deep breath and tightened his hold on the handle. Then he flung the door open, jumping aside and letting Benny have a full view of the dark inside. Benny stood, legs apart, arms extended in front of him, both hands gripping the gun as he tilted his head, ready to take aim.
    Nothing happened. The door slammed back and forth, hitting against the side of the truck. The sound of metal clanking against metal was amplified by the peaceful surroundings and the deserted highway. Del and Benny stared into the darkness, squinting to see the corner bench where the prisoner usually sat, restrained by thick straps that snaked out of the wall and floor.
    “What on earth?” Del could see the leather straps, cut and hanging from the wall of the truck.
    “What the fuck?” Benny mumbled as he slowly approached the open truck.
    Without warning, a tall, dark figure flew out at Benny, knocking him and the gun to the ground. Albert Stucky clamped his teeth onto Benny’s ear like a rabid dog. Benny’s scream dismantled Del. He stood paralyzed. His limbs refused to react. His heart knocked against his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. By the time he pulled out his service revolver, the prisoner was on his feet. He ran straight at Del, colliding with him and shoving something sharp and smooth and hard into Del’s stomach.
    Pain exploded throughout his body. His hands were useless, and the gun slid from his fingers like water. He forced himself to look into Albert Stucky’s eyes, and instantly he saw the evil staring back at him, cold and black, an entity of its own. Del felt the demon’s hot breath on his face. When he glanced down, he saw the large hand still gripping the dagger. He looked up just in time to see Stucky’s smile as he shoved the dagger deeper.
    Del slipped to his knees. His eyes blurred as he watched the tall stranger split into several images. He could see the truck and a sprawling Benny. Everything began to spin and blur. Then he slammed hard against the pavement. The steaming concrete sizzled up through his wet back, but it wasn’t as hot as his insides. A wildfire spread through his stomach, catching each of his organs on fire. Now, on his back, he saw nothing but the clouds swirling above him, brilliant white against solid blue. The morning sun blinded him. Yet, it was all so beautiful. Why hadn’t he noticed before how beautiful the sky was?
    Behind him a single gun shot blasted the silence. Del managed a weak smile. Finally. He couldn’t see him but good ole’ Benny, the legend, had come through, after all. The alcohol had just slowed him down a bit.
    Del pulled himself up, just enough to look at the damage to his stomach. He was startled to find himself staring down at the bloody carved image of Jesus. The dagger causing his insides to spill onto the deserted highway was actually a mahogany crucifix. Suddenly, he couldn’t feel the pain anymore. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? Maybe he’d be okay.
    “Hey,