Taken (Dark Desires 1)

The glass cooler behind Brent splattered with blood.

Brent crumbled to the floor.

The two men laughed.

I screamed Brent’s name.

The men came out the door.

They were dressed in all black.

One was tall and thin.

The other one, the one with the gun, was thick and muscular.

They had ski masks over their heads, with cut-outs for their eyes, noses, and mouths.

The one who had shot Brent looked into my eyes.

He pointed the gun at the windshield and pulled the trigger.

I heard the shot and the windshield pop at the same instant. I heard the bullet whiz through the cab as it passed within a few inches of my left ear and exited out the window behind my head.

I screamed and jerked my head down.

I scrunched down and covered my head with my hands.

I was crying uncontrollably.

My cellphone buzzed in the floor.

My fingers reached for it.

I heard a tap on the side window.

I glanced up to see the man who had shot at me pressing his nose against the window. He stuck out his tongue and licked the glass. He grinned at me. He had a silver front tooth.

The other guy was already in the black car, behind the wheel, yelling at the one who was grinning at me through the window.

He pressed his lips to the window and gave me one more smile, then pulled back the hand holding the gun and smashed the butt of the gun into the window, showering me with shards of glass. I screamed again and covered my head.

I heard him laugh; a deep, throaty, phlegmy-cigarette laugh that I still hear in my dreams.

I waited until I heard them sped away, then I pushed open the truck door and ran inside the store.

The man I’d seen behind the counter was slumped back against the cigarette display with a bullet hole at the center of his chest.

Brent was on the floor in front of the beer coolers, lying on his back, eyes open and glazed, a hole the size of a nickel at the center of his forehead.

He was still holding the red rose in his hand.

A large pool of dark red blood formed beneath his head.

I dropped to the floor and cradled his head to my chest, even though in my heart I knew he was dead.

I wailed and rocked him back and forth like a sleeping baby.

I was still doing it when the police came.