Nothing Less of Evil

There was no one in the lobby. He ran up the stairs two at a time till he reached their floor. He took a quick glance down the hall. It was empty. He stepped lightly down to their door and listened. It was quiet. He stood for a moment trying to control his breathing. Then kicked open the door and dove into the room.

The trucker had Jenny in an arm lock and a hand over her mouth. The other guy was sat in the chair. He had a gun in his hand. He fired. Missed. Steve rolled and fired the shotgun into the man's belly.

Jenny bit the trucker's hand. He let her go, but reached for a gun tucked into his belt, as he jumped towards the door. Steve emptied the other barrel. The pellets tore through the trucker's legs, and he screamed in pain.

"Quick," yelled Steve.

Jenny grabbed the money and the book. She climbed over the wounded trucker and raced down the hall. Steve looked at the guy in the chair; lifeless eyes, blood splatter up the walls, a quick memory of Lisa lying on the floor of Benny Moran's convenience store. Then Steve turned and raced out of there.

They drove south towards Flint. Neither of them said anything. There were hardly any cars on the road, just trucks, trucks everywhere; their lights blazing in Steve's face.





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