Winning at a Price
Amanda walked up to the front door of the shabby-looking house in her dark clothes and low-brimmed hat. Instead of ringing the doorbell, she slipped the letter under the door so that a crack could be seen from inside. When this was done, she signalled to a policeman waiting in a car over the other side of the street, and quickly headed around the corner to her car.
The policeman, called Jeff Barrett, waited patiently in the car. The radio was on quietly, and his burger sat on the dashboard. He received frequent calls from Steve, but each time reported nothing.
Then, four hours after Amanda had placed the note, the door opened a crack, and a man picked up the note. Jeff got his camera out, and snapped away. The man had slick black hair, a big nose, and was unshaven for what could have been four or five days. This is our guy, Jeff thought to himself.
Eric Birch took the note inside, and shut the door. He knew very few people, if anyone at all, who lived in LA, and he had no idea of whom the note could be from. He opened it, and smiled as he read it.
'Uncle Eric
I guessed it was you all this time. Took me a while, but I figured you out. I haven't told anyone, though. My little secret. Anyway, you want revenge against everyone to do with my mother's death, don't you? So that's Frankie Pasco, he's the guy behind the shootings, my father, and of course, me. You want them all dead so you know that they are feeling the same as your sister is. In the process, you've hurt so many people. Like Jesse. What did he ever do to you?
So, this is a plea to stop hurting them now. This is my suicide note. If you want to be sure that I'm dead, you should go to 2245 Baker Street, the old warehouse. There, you'll find me in a black body bag. By now, I'm probably long gone; I probably popped those pills hours ago. It's over now, Eric. Don't ask me what you've achieved by it though, because I don't know.
Yours, Ally.'
Eric grinned. He had won. He got his coat, walked out of the front door.
"Bingo," Jeff thought to himself, dialling Steve's number.
"How did you find out that Pasco was behind the shootings, Dad?" Steve asked his father as they waited at the warehouse.
"I did some reading up about Pasco, and found that he was accused of murder and attempted murder at about the time Ally's mom died. There was not enough evidence to bring it forward, but I guessed that Birch must have known that Pasco was behind it, because Pasco was on his hit list. I doubt that Pasco was a pawn in the game."
"Either that, or you guessed," Steve supposed.
"It's not often that I guess, and when I do, I tend to get it right," Mark protested.
Steve was saved by the ring of his cell phone. After a few words, Steve called to the officers in the warehouse.
"That was Barrett," he told them. "He is following Birch and he is heading this way. Get to your places, and remember the plan. Act ONLY when I give the word." Officers scuffled into the hiding places, ready to act.
Steve came onto to the black bag that lay on the floor. "Ready?" He gave the bag a small tap with the toe of his foot. "Make sure that helmet and bullet proof vest are secure."
"They're fine," a muffled voice came from inside the bag.
"Good. Remember, don't move."
"Sure," Jesse mumbled.
Steve got to his place, and waited for the big feat.
Five minutes later, the door of the warehouse swung open, and in walked the man. He saw the bag in the middle of the floor, and smiled.
"So, I finally won," he said, talking to himself. "The three people behind my sister's death are gone, and they have paid their price."
"Just so I know this is not a trick," Eric pulled out a gun and shot at the black bag twice. He was mildly surprised to hear a cry, but more surprised that the cry did not sound like that of a twelve-year-old girl.
"Freeze, Birch," Steve said. A dozen armed officers surrounded him. "Drop your weapon."
Mark was waiting behind Steve, and had a huge desire to go and get Jesse out of the bag. He was sure that at least one of the bullets had gone into him, probably his leg. Mark knew he couldn't move before Birch dropped the gun.
Steve knew what his father was thinking. "I said drop it, Birch!" Eric gave up, and slowly placed the gun on the ground.
Finally Mark ran to the body bag whilst the officers took Birch away.
"Jess," Mark opened the bag to see Jesse clutching his upper leg. Blood was pouring from the wound.
"How many hit you?" Steve asked.
"One," Jesse growled.
"All right, don't worry," Mark said, putting pressure on the wound.
"An ambulance is on the way," Steve told them.
"Sit tight, Jesse," Mark tried his best to comfort him.
"Glad I was wearing this," Jesse pointed to the vest. "I'd be doubly dying if I wasn't."
"Jesse, you aren't dying," Mark said a little uneasily. "You're going to be fine."
"But I've lost a lot of blood, look at all that…"
Mark cut him off. "I promise Jesse, you will be fine."
Jesse's eyes began to close. "I believe you, Mark." With those last words, he passed out.
Steve began to get worried. "He will be all right, right?"
"I don't know the extent of the damage yet," Mark said. "The bullet may have possibly gone through to a major artery."
"We can fix that, right?" Steve asked hopefully.
"Sure, but that ambulance had better hurry up before he loses much more blood."
Both father and son prayed that the ambulance would arrive soon.
Hi! The story is almost finished. One query to Jenben: I honestly do not know what it means to be Mary Sue (I'm really not lying.) If you next review, or anyone, please explain?! Anyway thanks everyone for carrying on reading, Bec :)
Amanda walked up to the front door of the shabby-looking house in her dark clothes and low-brimmed hat. Instead of ringing the doorbell, she slipped the letter under the door so that a crack could be seen from inside. When this was done, she signalled to a policeman waiting in a car over the other side of the street, and quickly headed around the corner to her car.
The policeman, called Jeff Barrett, waited patiently in the car. The radio was on quietly, and his burger sat on the dashboard. He received frequent calls from Steve, but each time reported nothing.
Then, four hours after Amanda had placed the note, the door opened a crack, and a man picked up the note. Jeff got his camera out, and snapped away. The man had slick black hair, a big nose, and was unshaven for what could have been four or five days. This is our guy, Jeff thought to himself.
Eric Birch took the note inside, and shut the door. He knew very few people, if anyone at all, who lived in LA, and he had no idea of whom the note could be from. He opened it, and smiled as he read it.
'Uncle Eric
I guessed it was you all this time. Took me a while, but I figured you out. I haven't told anyone, though. My little secret. Anyway, you want revenge against everyone to do with my mother's death, don't you? So that's Frankie Pasco, he's the guy behind the shootings, my father, and of course, me. You want them all dead so you know that they are feeling the same as your sister is. In the process, you've hurt so many people. Like Jesse. What did he ever do to you?
So, this is a plea to stop hurting them now. This is my suicide note. If you want to be sure that I'm dead, you should go to 2245 Baker Street, the old warehouse. There, you'll find me in a black body bag. By now, I'm probably long gone; I probably popped those pills hours ago. It's over now, Eric. Don't ask me what you've achieved by it though, because I don't know.
Yours, Ally.'
Eric grinned. He had won. He got his coat, walked out of the front door.
"Bingo," Jeff thought to himself, dialling Steve's number.
"How did you find out that Pasco was behind the shootings, Dad?" Steve asked his father as they waited at the warehouse.
"I did some reading up about Pasco, and found that he was accused of murder and attempted murder at about the time Ally's mom died. There was not enough evidence to bring it forward, but I guessed that Birch must have known that Pasco was behind it, because Pasco was on his hit list. I doubt that Pasco was a pawn in the game."
"Either that, or you guessed," Steve supposed.
"It's not often that I guess, and when I do, I tend to get it right," Mark protested.
Steve was saved by the ring of his cell phone. After a few words, Steve called to the officers in the warehouse.
"That was Barrett," he told them. "He is following Birch and he is heading this way. Get to your places, and remember the plan. Act ONLY when I give the word." Officers scuffled into the hiding places, ready to act.
Steve came onto to the black bag that lay on the floor. "Ready?" He gave the bag a small tap with the toe of his foot. "Make sure that helmet and bullet proof vest are secure."
"They're fine," a muffled voice came from inside the bag.
"Good. Remember, don't move."
"Sure," Jesse mumbled.
Steve got to his place, and waited for the big feat.
Five minutes later, the door of the warehouse swung open, and in walked the man. He saw the bag in the middle of the floor, and smiled.
"So, I finally won," he said, talking to himself. "The three people behind my sister's death are gone, and they have paid their price."
"Just so I know this is not a trick," Eric pulled out a gun and shot at the black bag twice. He was mildly surprised to hear a cry, but more surprised that the cry did not sound like that of a twelve-year-old girl.
"Freeze, Birch," Steve said. A dozen armed officers surrounded him. "Drop your weapon."
Mark was waiting behind Steve, and had a huge desire to go and get Jesse out of the bag. He was sure that at least one of the bullets had gone into him, probably his leg. Mark knew he couldn't move before Birch dropped the gun.
Steve knew what his father was thinking. "I said drop it, Birch!" Eric gave up, and slowly placed the gun on the ground.
Finally Mark ran to the body bag whilst the officers took Birch away.
"Jess," Mark opened the bag to see Jesse clutching his upper leg. Blood was pouring from the wound.
"How many hit you?" Steve asked.
"One," Jesse growled.
"All right, don't worry," Mark said, putting pressure on the wound.
"An ambulance is on the way," Steve told them.
"Sit tight, Jesse," Mark tried his best to comfort him.
"Glad I was wearing this," Jesse pointed to the vest. "I'd be doubly dying if I wasn't."
"Jesse, you aren't dying," Mark said a little uneasily. "You're going to be fine."
"But I've lost a lot of blood, look at all that…"
Mark cut him off. "I promise Jesse, you will be fine."
Jesse's eyes began to close. "I believe you, Mark." With those last words, he passed out.
Steve began to get worried. "He will be all right, right?"
"I don't know the extent of the damage yet," Mark said. "The bullet may have possibly gone through to a major artery."
"We can fix that, right?" Steve asked hopefully.
"Sure, but that ambulance had better hurry up before he loses much more blood."
Both father and son prayed that the ambulance would arrive soon.
Hi! The story is almost finished. One query to Jenben: I honestly do not know what it means to be Mary Sue (I'm really not lying.) If you next review, or anyone, please explain?! Anyway thanks everyone for carrying on reading, Bec :)