So here it is folks, by popular demand and hot off the presses, the prologue of the currently untitled sequel to Sunliner. Strictly first draft but I know there are at least a few people out there who want to see it.
Enjoy and please do let me know what you think.
When Rachel and I left LA I thought we'd left the violence behind but within a month I'd killed again. The man I killed didn't give me any choice but I still felt bad about it. Bad for him and bad for me because killing was starting to feel like something did rather than something I'd done.
The last man I'd killed was one who I'd hated with a passion as strong as the love a man feels for his wife and family. This man, the man in Nebraska, I didn't give two hoots about, didn't like him, didn't hate him, just knew he needed killing.
I'll get to the why in time. First let me tell you the how, because although I had no reason to expect that would make a blind bit of difference it proved to be important. I did it on blind instinct, the killing, when I walked into that room and found him doing what he was doing. I guess a shrink would say I had some kind of knight in shining armour complex. That I need to keep saving damsels in distress because I couldn't save my wife. I think that's BS. I saw a man doing something horrific to someone smaller and weaker than him and it was in my power to stop him. So I did.
The events in LA had changed me, made me harder. I suppose it's what happens to a man when he finally finds the balls to stand up to his nemesis. What I'd gone through had taken me to the edge of hell and back but like a snake sheddding its skin I'd come out of it renewed, better somehow. Would the man I'd been before that horrible night with JJ and the car and the Freak have reacted the way I did when I walked into that small, stinking room? I doubt it. He would have turned and run. Done the the right thing of course, found a payphone and called the cops, but by then it would have been too late for the girl.
So I didn't run and I certainly didn't call the cops; I still held a healthy respect for them, a respect that meant I wanted to stay as far away from them as possible. I walked forward rather than back.
The man turned when he heard the door open and saw me at the same moment as I saw him. Rachel and I had heard the screams from outside so we knew something bad was going down in there. The girl on the table in front of him went quiet at the sight of me. The scream that had been tumbling from her mouth and echoing off the wooden walls stopping as abruptly as if someone had put their hand over her mouth. Her eyes locked on mine and the terror in them was replaced with hope. I think that faith she had in me gave me the extra strength I needed to do what I did next. He was a big bastard and I doubt I could have taken him without the knowledge that if I didn't the girl would be done for. I might be tougher than I'd been a month ago but I was still no Rocky Marciano and I needed every advantage I could find.
My first thought was that I needed to find a weapon. The guy was 6 foot 6 if he was an inch and he had a knife in his hand. I could see a shovel leaning against the wall by the side of the table the girl was on. On the other side of the room. On the other side of the giant with the knife. That meant a weapon was out of the equation for now and there was no way I was going to beat him in a fair fight so I fought dirty.
I lashed out with my foot and caught him in the knee, he was big but he was slow and the toe of my shoe connected hard with his knee cap. He didn't even notice. For all my bravado I guess I wasn't such a touch guy after all. His right hand, the one holding the knife, swung round in a wild arc and he caught on the side of the head with his fist and the base of the knife handle. My head rocked from the blow and my legs went weak beneath me. I knew I was going down and there was nothing I could do about it.