A Crooked Waitress

Chapter 54

Christina stopped the car and looked around. The rendezvous point was the same as the last time; a road in a wooded area that passed by a couple of dozens of buildings. Each was ten stories high; luxury apartments for the well-to-do. A bit cut off from the city, which made the area appealing for those who wanted seclusion and quiet.

She had arrived ten minutes early. Trees shielded the road from both sides and another vehicle was parked about twenty yards ahead of her.

She only saw the back of it and looked like a Mustang. It could be Eric's car. But she didn't want to approach him and decided to wait and let him make his move.

A big suitcase full of newspapers sat in the trunk of the Chevrolet. She was going to tell him that she had sedated Jimmy and put him in the bag. That _hopefully_ Lured Eric closer for an inspection and gave her a chance to shoot him dead.

Her picture on the TV had shaken her to the core. She was wanted on a national level, as a murderer; anyone anywhere could recognize her and turn her in. And they would; people hated child killers. She had to lay low for a long time until the world forgot about her.

The cops had caught up with her faster than she expected. It was out of character for those donut-eaters. But Christina had only herself to blame.

She had used the cabin that was under her parents' name. And the cops had found the place and traced it back to her.

"What's done is done." She took a deep breath and tried to distract herself but couldn't.

What if Eric had seen the news? What if this was a trap to kill her? Or maybe he planned to catch her and force her to give up the stones, then kill her? How much were her chances of taking Toby back anyway? Natalie probably tagged along too. In a two-to-one situation, they'd certainly kill her.

How far should she go to save her brother?

The Mustang turned its lights on and off twice; it was Eric. She flashed her lights a couple of times in response.

The sun had not fully set, and some daylight was left; enough for her to read his lips. And she was thankful for that because didn't want to negotiate through text.

Eric got out of the Mustang and stood behind the open door, using it as a shield. "Toby's here. I want to see my son."

She stepped out of the car, slammed the door, and turned to go to the back and open the trunk.

Eric saw his opportunity, strode to close the distance, drew his gun, and fired two shots. The first bullet missed, but the second pierced her right arm. The sudden jolt of pain made her scream.

She turned around, and returned fire, blasting the air in his direction. She wanted to stop him from aiming correctly and finishing her off.

He knows, and he's here for the kill.

He dropped on the pavement and fired again. A hot piece of lead tore the flesh of her thigh. She screamed and fell on the road behind the Chevrolet. The back tire was all that remained between her and his gun.

Only five bullets were left in her Beretta's magazine but Eric fired repeatedly; he had packed a lot of ammo. What he lacked in marksmanship, made up for in firepower.

The slugs flew around. And he punched several holes in the car doors and the wheels. The air rushed out of the tires, and the vehicle tumbled down.

She fired once but had to keep count of her bullets. If her right arm wasn't compromised, she wouldn't need more than a round or two. But with her left hand, she couldn't aim properly and missed the target.

The early autumn night was setting in fast and a cold gust of wind ruffled the tree branches. The bullets whizzed about her, and in a minute or two, one would find its way into her body. She had to escape.

Christina scanned the area to find a way out, but the pain from her wounds made it difficult to focus.

A building with a parking lot on the ground floor was on the other side of the trees, about a hundred yards away.

Blood dripped from her wound, painted the road, and drained her strength. She had to go while she still could. It was now or never.

She rolled on the pavement and the asphalt cut into her wounds, making her scream. The bullets whizzed above her head.

She fell off the road and after tumbling a few times, a pine tree brought her to a halt. The tall grass, which somehow stood upright in the cold, gave her cover. She slowly crawled behind the tree.

A couple of slugs flew by and one lodged in the dead bark. The patch of wood was a remnant of an old forest that once covered the land. And the trees sprouted out of the soil wherever the seed had found a suitable ground.

Their messy arrangement blocked Eric's view and made it easier for her to cross the woods and get to safety.

He stood up to chase her, but she fired at him and he crouched down behind his car. She rose to her feet and limped past a couple of trees. Four rounds were left in her gun and blood trickled down from her wounds.

The woods and the building behind them had become blurry in front of her eyes and slightly wobbled.

She passed two more trees, and several slugs cut through the air around her. Her flank burnt.

"Ow!" She touched it and her hand came up red; a bullet had nicked her. Looking back, she saw Eric enter the trees.

A low-hanging branch had stuck out of a pine tree in front of her. She put her left arm on it, to provide support for her hand, aimed the best she could, and fired. The bullet buzzed so close to his face that he dove behind some bush and fired a few random shots.

She had three rounds left in her gun.

The daylight had disappeared, and the daunting logs in the dark made a surreal scene. She dragged herself from tree to tree. Limping she was trying to keep a timber between her, and Eric's gun. Every time she moved, one or two gunshots rang in the air.

The woods ended. She stepped on a road, turned around, and fired another shot into the trees to keep him at bay. Her pistol had two bullets left.

The entrance of the parking lot was in front of her. Once she was inside, he had to pass through the gate to reach her. And she'd be waiting for him. Even with a left hand, she could shoot him dead.

The building was getting closer; just a few more steps remained. Eric ran after her and fired repeatedly.

One bullet cut through her shoulder blade. She screamed and fell but didn't stop and crawled into the parking lot.

Leaning her back against a car, she looked at her injuries. Blood dripped from her wounds, and sitting down was proving difficult. She wanted to lie on the concrete. Her vision had become more blurry, and it wasn't long before she passed out.

"Hey, are you listening?" Eric shouted. "I killed Toby. He begged for mercy, but I shot him like a dog."

The news didn't have the impact he expected on her. When Eric started shooting, she knew it was over for Toby. If he wanted to kill her, that meant her brother was dead.

Only one way out remained, and it was a bizarre solution. She hesitated for a few seconds, then took out her phone and dialed 911.

"Connected" message popped up on her screen, and she assumed the operator was listening.

"Please help... someone's trying to kill me.... I've been shot several times... my address is where this phone is.... "

To show the gravity of her situation, she fired the last round in her gun, and then passed out.