Split Second

He made himself look away and avoided the temptation to glance back. He pulled out from the last checkpoint and onto the highway. Once they got on the open road, he could relax. He enjoyed driving. It gave him time to think. But when he took a quick left, Be

“Where the hell you going? I-95’s the other direction.”

“I thought we’d take a shortcut. Highway 45 has less traffic, and it’s a much nicer drive.”

“You think I fucking care about nice?”

“It’s shorter by about thirty minutes. We get the prisoner delivered, and then we’ll have an extra half hour for lunch.”

He knew his partner wouldn’t argue with an extended lunch hour. In fact, he had hoped Be

They had left Miami’s traffic and had been on the road only thirty minutes when a thump rattled the back of the truck. At first Del thought they had dropped a muffler, but the thumping continued. It came from the back of the truck but inside, not underneath.

Be

He twisted around to look through the small rectangle of glass that separated the cab from the back. “Can’t see a damned thing.”

The noise grew louder, sending vibrations under the seat. It felt to Del as though a baseball bat were being swung against the truck’s metal sides. Ridiculous, really. No chance the prisoner would have anything remotely like a baseball bat. Each blast sent Be

“Hey, cut it out,” Del yelled, adding his voice to the noisy din that was begi

Obviously, the prisoner had not been completely restrained and was ramming himself against the walls of the truck. Even if it didn’t drive them crazy during the rest of the trip, it could cause some serious damage to the prisoner. He certainly didn’t want to be responsible for delivering a battered prisoner. He slowed down, pulled the truck to the side of the two-lane highway and stopped.

“What the hell you doing?” Be

“We can’t have this going on for the rest of the trip. The guys obviously didn’t completely restrain him.”

“Why would they? He’s found Jesus Christ.”

Del only shook his head. As he climbed out of the truck it occurred to him that he had no idea what to do with a prisoner who had gotten an arm or leg loose from one of the leather restraints.

“Now hold on, kid,” Be

It took Be

“You’re still drunk!”

“The hell I am.”

Del reached into the cab and pulled out the thermos, jerking it away when Be

“You son of a bitch.” Del’s words surprised him as much as they did Be

“Shit! That was my only thermos, kid.” Be

The banging continued, louder, now rocking the truck.

“You think you’re up for this?” Del asked, feeling angry and betrayed enough to allow the sarcasm.

“Hell, yes. I was shutting up assholes like this when you were still suckin’ at your momma’s tit.” Be

Del wondered how much alcohol Be

The noise stopped as soon as Del started sliding the locks open on the heavy rear door. He looked to Be

He took a deep breath and tightened his hold on the handle. Then he flung the door open, jumping aside and letting Be

Nothing happened. The door slammed back and forth, hitting against the side of the truck. The sound of metal clanking against metal was amplified by the peaceful surroundings and the deserted highway. Del and Be

“What on earth?” Del could see the leather straps, cut and hanging from the wall of the truck.

“What the fuck?” Be

Without warning, a tall, dark figure flew out at Be

Pain exploded throughout his body. His hands were useless, and the gun slid from his fingers like water. He forced himself to look into Albert Stucky’s eyes, and instantly he saw the evil staring back at him, cold and black, an entity of its own. Del felt the demon’s hot breath on his face. When he glanced down, he saw the large hand still gripping the dagger. He looked up just in time to see Stucky’s smile as he shoved the dagger deeper.

Del slipped to his knees. His eyes blurred as he watched the tall stranger split into several images. He could see the truck and a sprawling Be

Behind him a single gun shot blasted the silence. Del managed a weak smile. Finally. He couldn’t see him but good ole’ Be

Del pulled himself up, just enough to look at the damage to his stomach. He was startled to find himself staring down at the bloody carved image of Jesus. The dagger causing his insides to spill onto the deserted highway was actually a mahogany crucifix. Suddenly, he couldn’t feel the pain anymore. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? Maybe he’d be okay.