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Inactive? by Stellen Qxz

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Genre/Category: Crime, Thriller, Mystery
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Inactive? by Stellen Qxz
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Synopsis

For the first time in more than twenty years Derrick Olin needed a vacation. So he took one. In the beginning it was great. Sun, fun, the beach… and a beautiful woman he hadn’t seen in more than a decade. Just what the doctor ordered, and just what Derrick needed. But when an act of utter brutality leaves his lover near death, the hardcore operator is thrust into action, pursuing a violent and bloody course toward those who hurt her, determined to make them suffer for the pain they have caused. And the universe will weep for anyone who gets in his way!

Also by Stellen Qxz on obooko:

Compulsive,  Criminal,  Vicious,  Deadline,  Extraction,  Purity,  Reciprocity,
Blackball,  Retrograde,  Fearless  Rogue  Principal Target  Cloak & Stagger
The Undercover Groomsman   Glock Smoke


Excerpt:

Lake Charles, Louisiana

The taste of blood in my mouth is somehow familiar, although I haven’t tasted it for quite some time, and could have gone quite a while longer without tasting it again. Never would have been just fine with me. But I suppose you can’t have everything you want. One conciliatory note is the fact that most of the blood I taste isn’t mine. Then again, maybe that isn’t such a good thing.

Also, there’s the pain in my chest. Could have done without experiencing that either, or the pain in my head and lower back—although I’d had pain in my lower back for the better part of fifteen years, and had become quite accustomed to it. However, at the moment the pain is quite intense. Perhaps it’s time to find another line of work. Something with an office and regular hours, no night work. That would be great. Can’t wait to start looking in the want ads.  Just not at the moment. Right now I’m busy… working.

The elbow coming toward my head was moving slowly enough for  me to avoid, but I decided not to, instead grabbing it at the last second, twisting with every ounce of strength I had left, and throwing the elbow’s owner to the ground. He landed hard and I heard the breath leave his lungs. An added bonus, it would mean I had a few extra seconds to do what needed to be done. What I hoped I had enough strength left to do.

Since I could barely stand as it was, dropping down to my knees was easy, and I landed right behind the man I had just thrown down, his back to me.  Reaching down with my right hand, I took his shoulder, pulling him into a sitting position by his jacket, and then got my right arm around his neck, locking my fingers across his left shoulder. The man was starting to regain himself now and began to struggle. No matter, he was under my control now, and it wouldn’t be much longer.

With my left hand I reached around and took his forehead in my palm, gripping his temples tightly with thumb and fingers on either side, then gave a quick and violent twist in both directions at the same time, hearing a sickening pop as vertebra snapped.  When I released it his head flopped down

toward his chest and his body went slack, his bowels releasing at the same time. The odor was not pleasant. I shoved the man away from me and fell  back on my butt, sweat rolling down from the top of my bald head, getting into my already stinging eyes, my vision blurring even more. I was also breathing heavily, almost uncontrollably. In fact, I was breathing so heavily that I almost didn’t hear the approach of footsteps to my rear.

Summoning the last of my reserves, I rolled to my left, coming up on my knees as I turned around, just in time to see the large Cajun that I’d nearly shot earlier this evening. Too bad I hadn’t shot him. He was really huge and I was not in the best of shape right at the moment. Plus I was out of bullets and who knew where the hell my gun was anyhow? Actually guns, but that was semantics at this point. Right now this giant Cajun looked as if he wanted to rip me in two.  Probably did.

Well like my mother used to tell me when I was a kid and I would tell her I wanted something, she’d say: Boy, people in hell want ice water!  I  guess the meaning was you can’t have everything you want. So I guess I won’t let the Cajun rip me in two.

He came at me fast, raising a large booted foot toward my face when he was about five paces away.  Surprising both him and me, I was able to  jump up and grab his foot, tossing it upward and causing him to lose his balance and tumble backwards, landing very hard on his butt. Wasting no time, I moved in quickly and kicked him in the face with my large booted foot, then followed up with a second kick, but this one only had half the power of the first.  Still, it was enough.

Feeling dizzy now, I fell to the ground in front of the man, and, with all the might that I could summon—which wasn’t a whole lot—drove the heel of my right palm into the already battered and bloodied Cajun’s face, smashing what was left of his nose and hopefully driving jagged bone into some vital area; and we both fell backwards.

Everything was black.

I felt nothing, saw nothing, existed in total abyss.

Then I heard voices, sensed lights approaching from somewhere in the distant darkness, rapid footsteps. I just didn’t have the energy to fight anymore, no more strength left. The spirit was willing, but not the body.  I  was finished. Oh well, they couldn’t say I hadn’t gone out fighting.

Hands grabbed me from behind, turned me, lights now in my face, I couldn’t see anything beyond them. Urgent voices, sounds unintelligible to me. Nothing made sense. The pain had returned, and it was really talking to me, screaming at me through every receptor in my body. No wonder  I couldn’t hear anything else.

“Can you hear me?”

What? Was somebody talking to me? The voice sounded familiar. Straining, I tried to see past the light in my face, and something liquid  running into my eyes. Maybe sweat. Maybe blood! Can’t focus. But that voice…

The light moved and a face loomed near mine, kind of scary in a disembodied sort of way, and somehow familiar, what little of it that I could make out. Graying beard, serious eyes. Vaguely familiar though, and oddly friendly, at least to me.

“Derrick, can you hear me?”

Derrick? That’s my name; at least I think it is, who can be sure of anything these days? But I believe that’s my name. Derrick.  Yes, it is.  And who is this guy with the beard and serious eyes?

“Derrick, it’s alright. You’re gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Brentwood’s safe too. I got your message. We found him. Can you hear me, Derrick?”

Rod! That’s his name. Rodney. Rodney something or other. I do know him.  He’s a friend. Maybe…

At that point everything went to black and stayed that way.