Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

then. He held a flashlight in his hand. The first man took it, switched it on, and shined it down at the wrecked truck.
    The drops of rain looked like tiny blurs in the beam of light. The first man shone it on the opened passenger door and into the cab. The inside of the truck seemed evenly divided between bright light and sharp shadows, both of which moved with each motion of the man’s hand. He led the second man down the mud bank. They looked inside the cab, then under it. It only took them a minute to spot the foot prints. I saw then that the second man had a gun in his hand. I saw small drops of rain bouncing off it. But I couldn’t see either of their faces, only the shapes of them in the night, the flashlight, and the gun.
    I looked at Augie and held my index finger to my lips. He nodded. One of the men whispered, “They couldn’t have gotten far.”
    The other said, “Forget about ‘em.”
    “They saw the whole fucking thing.”
    I was unarmed, and Augie’s .45 was somewhere in the truck. For all I knew it may have flown through the shattered windshield. But either way there was no time to look for it. I felt around the muddy ground for a stone but found nothing but the soft earth. I scrambled up to my hands and knees and searched more. I found nothing. I had no way of knowing which side of the truck the men would come around, the front, the rear, or both. I looked back and forth between the two frantically. I found a few pebbles but nothing that would give me an edge, nothing that would make a difference when thrown at a man. Finally I found something, a stone, its top barely sticking out of the ground. I dug around it with my fingers. It was an act of desperation, and probably a waste of time, but it was all I could do. I kept looking toward the front of the truck, then the rear, all the while digging. But I was getting nowhere and finally gave up. I turned to search elsewhere for a weapon and in the process looked Augie in the face. It was dark but I could see him well enough.
    He nodded his head to the right once. I knew right away that he was telling me to go. He looked exhausted, his arms hanging at his sides, like a boxer who had lost twelve out of twelve rounds. I said nothing, just looked back at him. He nodded again, this time with his eyes closed. The blood on his face was watery from the rain. He was covered with mud. I waited till he opened his eyes and was looking at me again. Then I shook my head from side to side. I held up my finger, telling him to wait. Then I turned and went back to the buried rock and began to dig again with my fingers. I didn’t think about the pain and just dug, tearing the dirt away. I looked toward the front of the truck, then the rear. Nothing, but I knew they would appear somewhere soon. I felt the under-curve of the rock and wedged my fingers deep beneath it. I hooked my nails against the rough surface and leaned back. The rock gave, but only a little. I readjusted by grip and leaned back again. It broke free and moved a few inches out of the ground, only to stop again. I readjusted the grip one more time and leaned back. The rock pulled free. The sudden give sent my flying backward. I landed on my back next to Augie, the rock on my chest. It was a little bigger than a grapefruit and hit me hard enough when it landed that it knocked the wind out of me. I grabbed the rock with both hands and sat up just as one of the men came around the front of the truck. My eyes searched frantically for a gun but I didn’t see one. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. I looked and looked, time ticking off in my head. And then there it was. The bright beam of a flashlight crossed the ground fast and hit me in eyes. It cast painful shadows inside my head.
    “They’re here,” he called.
    I turned just as the second man appeared behind the truck. I didn’t wait and with my right hand flung the rock at him with all I had. The throw tore my shoulder and I grunted. My eyes found the gun the instant I let go of the rock. The man saw it, saw something coming and flinched, trying to bob like a boxer. But he wasn’t fast enough, and the rock caught him solid on the left side of his face. I heard a good thud followed by a surprised grunt. Then the man’s legs buckled and he dropped to the ground.
    When I turned back to the first man he was rushing me. The flashlight was in his left hand now, a knife in his right. I rose to my knees to meet him as he took a wide swipe at my