Crown Vic: The First Kill

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story was originally publish in "Thrills, Kills & Chaos"

Submitted: August 09, 2014

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Submitted: August 09, 2014



The road hummed underneath the Crown Vic as the night caressed him like an old lover. Yet he was still anxious. Still on the hunt. And only one thing would take that feeling away. And it could not come soon enough.

Then, as if God had him on his mind, red tail lights appeared in the distance.

Prayers answered.

The red lights grew from dots to eyes as he jammed the accelerator to the floor. He reached over, grabbed a domed rotating light he bought from the flea market not long ago and placed it on top of the dash. The light inside danced and wiggled. The glow from the bumper the Vic hugged intensified, as the car began to break. The crunch of gravel replaced the hum of the blacktop as both cars pulled along the shoulder of the road.

His pulse quicken when the low wattage bulb from the overhead light tried to fill the interior as the driver reached for something out of view. What was he reaching for? raced through his mind. Only time would tell. And that time was now.

He took a deep breathe. Steading his nerves. He didn’t want it to be too quick, however, he didn’t want to linger either. He had to find the right rhythm of seconds and minutes that were between life and death.

The gravel crunched lightly under his feet as he walked up to the other car’s door. Before the man inside could react he snapped on the large flashlight he was carrying. The other driver shielded his eyes from the intensity of light.

“Good evening officer. I didn…”


The pistol jerked in his hand as he squeezed the trigger. The sound of the gun discharging was louder than he thought it would be outside.

Blood, bone; gore exploded from the driver’s right arm as the bullet struck, spinning him tightly around in his seat. The action so swift that he thought he had missed. That they were now reaching for a weapon on their own. He would not let him get the chance to use it, and stepped back. Onto the road itself, firing rapidly through the door; through the window until the slide on the gun snapped back. Locked. Indicating it was empty.

Stillness regained the night as he leaned over slightly to peer inside. The end result was satisfying. The man lay bloodied upon the front seat. Not quite dead. But nearly so. It would just be a matter of time.

Pleased, he walked back to the Crown Vic. Leaving the man to dispel his last breathe alone.


© Copyright 2019 Paul Dabrowski. All rights reserved.

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