One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 3, page 5

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Bhanar Narak steadied his nerves as the blonde woman dropped her bag. He was safe from any gun in the duffel, but that still left in or under the sweatshirt as potential hiding places.

“Off your shirt!” he snapped, hoping she’d understand, hoping she was sane enough to comprehend his fear.

She apparently was, because she slowly grabbed the bottom of the sweatshirt and started lifting.

But then she froze.

A police siren, growing louder. Bhanar relaxed slightly. He was saved. They’d arrest this woman, find her gun, match it to the bullets that must be lodged in his truck, and let Bhanar get on with living his life.

Pí’oro muttered something about the police.

And just perhaps, the police would arrest Pí’oro for being a crazy old man who ordered everybody around.

The bushes and boulders down by the road lit up with red and green flashes, ever brighter. The squeal of the police cruiser’s tires cut through the siren and all other sound. Then finally Bhanar saw the auto skid to a halt, a few yards past the driveway.

Bhanar forced his body to stand up, commanding one frozen muscle at a time. Bits of gravel stuck to his bare forearms.

The police auto jerked into reverse, passing the driveway again. Its tires squealed as it braked.

Bhanar kept his rifle pointed at the blonde, but waved his left hand over his head. “Hey! Police!”

“Aw, plagues,” spat Pí’oro.

The blonde had turned away from Bhanar and was waving to the police as well. But then she abruptly stopped.

“Zhíno!” The blonde took a hesitant backward step up the driveway. Over her shoulder, she yelled, “That’s Zhíno!”

Had she been telling the truth about another gunman? Was this him? Had he now stolen a police cruiser, as well?

The police auto accelerated up the driveway, dust billowing up from its tires. The driver certainly wasn’t acting like a policeman. He was about to run over the blonde. Didn’t he see her?

“Watch out!” Bhanar yelled--in Zhuphíoan.

The woman screamed and ran off into the bushes, but not before grabbing her precious duffel bag.

The cruiser skidded to a stop right where the woman had disappeared, still fifty yards away from Bhanar and the old man. The driver must be the Zhéporé-spawn who had shot at Bhanar, and now he was back to finish him off. Bhanar’s face broke into a grin as his blood thundered in his ears.

The Zhéporé-spawn had his handgun up to the window, then poking out a bit as the glass rolled down.

Bhanar couldn’t let him shoot first this time. Twice was enough. He targeted his rifle on the Zhéporé-spawn’s gun.

“Calm down, son,” the old man commanded, sounding just like Bhanar’s father. “You can’t go around shooting at people.”

Without disturbing his aim, Bhanar snorted a laugh. He wasn’t about to take orders from this crazy old Koro-head.

The gunman’s hand came out and Bhanar fired.

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