Consigning Fate (49 page)

Robbie bit his lip. Growing more aggravated by the second.

How long had he been waiting by the front door, his back against the trailer so as not to be seen.

Ten minutes? Fifteen?

Dan would be there so and his efforts would be in vain if the jeep was heard coming.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

His heart beat and chest heaved heavy breaths.

The phone buzzed again. Just as he contemplated breaking it, he heard the turn of the front door.

Robbie back up more, pressing hard against the metal surface. He could see, through the corner of his eyes, the door.

It opened. No one was there.

He pulled out the Mist gun, beckoning in his mind that it would work.

Thinking, ‘Jason don’t fail me now’, Robbie eyed the screen door.

As if a ghost were in control, it opened.

Footstep on the wooden porch.

A footstep. But no one.

The screen door shut.

Another footstep, they hit the second step.

Robbie had to be fast and accurate.

He had to be. With an over extension of his leg, Robbie leapt forward to surpass the porch, pivoted his body, held out the gun, and in Dirty Harry action, Fired off five shots of the gun.

A blue mist, large and soaking emerged.

Within a split second, so did a figure directly before Robbie.

Robbie lowered the gun. His shoulders moved up and down, eyes focused wide and forward on the figure.

He pouted his thick lips, moistening them before speaking in a cracked voice. “Who?

One word. One word choked out until he got out another. This time he spoke his next word with passion and desperation. “Please.”

The ink started to disappear, but not before a recognizable arm reach up to the head.

Robbie’s heart pounded harder, faster.

The figure removed the hood. “Robert, Goddamn it,” he said with irritation. “Son of a bitch bastard.”

Was Robbie happy, thrilled, relieved, angry, shocked? Whatever emotion it was, Robbie was still barreled over with his own revelation, and could only gasp out, “Dad.”

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NEXT: BLACK PARADE