Praise Thee and fell unto our poisoned town.
The second, then third, then fourth, then fifth gunshots do not break Jim Hubert from his trance at the edge of the police dock. Neither does the sixth, nor would a seventh. Jim Hubert’s staring up at the sky, watching that big red blob called Rock get bigger and bigger until it’s about the size of a cantaloupe above the relative watermelon that is the police boat. Jim Hubert watches Rock fell into the water, obliterating the police boat and everything on it into a hailstorm of debris which flies to every corner of the lake’s shore.
Including the shore with the public docks.
The first of the police boat’s debris, a molten piece of burning metal shrapnel which just happens to be in the shape of a cross, strikes Jim Hubert directly between the eyes, teetering him over backwards. As he falls, his body is pelted and skewered by a hellstorm of bits of metal, fibreglass, normal glass, and even a few pieces of wood. He feels each and every piece of the debris violate the sanctity of his body, then dies seconds after he hits the dock. The rain of debris stops the moment his life ends.
After Jim Hubert is done feeling every last piece of the police boat’s debris violate the sanctity of his body, he doesn’t hear the footsteps coming down the dock behind him. One set of footsteps to be specific, footsteps that stop a single plank away from stepping on his head.
“Huh,” the footstepper says. “Interesting.”
He hunkers down and grips Jim by the head, turning him this way and that. Jim’s soulless eyes sway.
“Well, I suppose you know the story, ol’ Jim. Wrong place at the wrong time.” He lets Jim’s head go. The head of the metal cross taps the dock. “Tough break, Jim Crow. Tough mothafuckin’ break.”
The guy in the dark gray suit with skin as brown as Sarah’s – browner, even, truly the image of an Earthen folk – steps widely over Jim’s body, letting the heel of his shoe land on the crotch of Jim’s pants. There’s a squishy kind of crunch when he steps down, but it’s not quite as gratifying as he was hoping it would be. Meh, oh well. He jumps off the edge of the police dock, hugs his knees to his chest, and hits the water in a cannonball. When he breaks through the surface his suit is completely dry, and the jet ski beneath him is already running.
Hello Commons, this has been the seventh subchapter of the last chapter of Under the Hood: The Imprisonment of Jonathan Knox, a novel about a man who likes to eavesdrop on his neighbors.
Under the Hood: The Imprisonment of Jonathan Knox is the second book in the W-2222 series, a series of books which take place in Universe W-2222.
Under the Hood: The Imprisonment of Jonathan Knox is available to read for free in its entirety on my website. Click here to check it out.
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
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If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. Be well Commons~