Saturday, November 16, 2013

#23: Convenient Cavalry.


Drake stood, un-waveringly before the riflemen, preferring to face demise head on , if this were indeed to be his end.

 Before a single shot could be fired, there was a tremendous bang as an explosion erupted from the far side of the scrapyard.

Roughly twenty men with S.W.A.T. emblazoned across their chests and another thirty police officers swarmed into the yard. The marauders were thrown into chaos: running around screaming, scrabbling up the junk piles, some even tried fighting back with little success.

Drake looked around for the leader and saw him leaping towards a young officer, bringing the pry-bar crashing down on his helmet. The officer went down and the leader legged it, climbing over the cars. Everyone else was busy either covering the snipers or brawling with the gang.

“Jake!” he called to his brother, who seeing the escaping leader, elbowed the throat of the bewildered Marauder next to him with the confiscated weapons and tossed the auto-revolver to Drake.


Catching his gun with one hand, Drake whirled, crouched and took aim at the fleeing figure.  A rubber bullet to the back of each knee stopped the leader in his tracks. 

No comments:

Post a Comment