EIGHTY-SIXED

Wallace rolled into the driveway, spraying gravel as he skidded to a stop. He was out of the cab a second before the garage door opened, and Cameron started shooting. Wallace dove behind the engine block drawing his revolver. Cameron ducked under the garage and onto the driveway, half-propping Edgar up. A gun barrel perched over Edgar’s shoulder and aimed directly at Wallace. Wallace came up with his own gun, but three shots fired from the revolver forced him back down. Cameron had Edgar in front of him all the way across the yard. The rental car was parked nose out to the street. He shoved Edgar inside and got into the passenger seat. His hands were zip-tied before him so he could drive properly, if awkwardly. Wallace couldn’t risk shooting the vehicle. The gas tank wouldn’t explode like in the movies, but a ricochet could kill Edgar or someone else. Wallace turned to look inside the now open garage door and momentarily froze. There was a dead body lying on the concrete. Wallace stared fixedly at the corpse for a second before another round slammed into the aluminum siding of his truck, and he ducked back down behind the engine block. Steam was starting to rise from the truck’s engine, but fortunately the tires were still intact. Wallace could almost hear Jim’s voice in his ear. Move your ass, rookie. Steeling his resolve, Wallace jumped to his truck and stepped on the gas.