Murder Beach — Blood on the Sand

Chance watched Baseball Cap walk toward Linus. Shit. I can’t let him find Linus. I’ll have to move. He fired another shot, which pinged near the man’s feet and moved again to another position. Three bullets kicked up dirt where Chance had been. Someone is a good shot. Damn. That must have come from Polo Shirt. He might be flanking me.

Chance scrambled to a position where he still had visibility on Marlena. Cowboy Boots was roughing her up, slapping her around. Chance wanted to put a bullet through his head, but he knew couldn’t do that without endangering Marlena.

Chance stood calmly, his feet shoulder width apart, his pistol aimed at Cowboy Boots. He positioned his gunsight on the man’s knee, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then he relaxed his grip, while at the same time increasing the tension in his arms, pulling one arm against the other, reducing the movement of the barrel. When the man began to drag Marlena toward the water, Chance squeezed off a shot and blew apart the man’s right knee.

Cowboy Boots broke his grip on Marlena and fell to the ground screaming in pain. Marlena began to struggle against the ropes that held her wrists. Rick could see Marlena loosening her ropes while running toward the highway and Cowboy Boots rolling on the ground. Jacobs swore, “What the fuck is going on? Mike, what’s wrong?” He ran quickly toward Marlena.

He was reaching out to grab Marlena’s arm and drag her toward the ocean when a hole suddenly appeared in his right hand, splattering blood on the sand. Rick immediately grabbed his hand and fell to the ground. He stared at the bloody hole in his right palm as he felt the anger and adrenaline flood his system. He pulled his gun from beneath his jacket with his left hand, fumbled the move causing it to fall to the ground. “Son of a bitch. Someone get this bastard.” He grabbed the gun with his left hand and aimed at the location it appeared the shooter was hiding. “You’re a dead man. You hear me?”

Chance answered by putting a bullet through Rick Jacobs left shoulder. Rick screamed, started shouting, spittle popping out of his mouth as he yelled, “You’re dead, asshole. We’ll figure out who you are and track you down. We’ll kill you, kill your family, and everyone you even give a shit about. You better — “Chance popped two bullets into the Charger, hitting the gas tank. Rick shouted at the top of his voice, “Jackson? Woody? One of you better get this dickhead or both of you will die instead.” After he finished, he rolled over swearing to himself with his face in the sand.

Chance fired two more shots at the Dodge Charger. One hit a rock and the resulting spark ignited the gas, engulfing the Charger in flames.

Rick Jacobs began screaming hysterically and moaning at the same time. “You shot my car! Goddamn you to hell.” He raised his gun and fired three more shots. Chance was already on his way to help Linus and the bullets did no more than create little puffs of dirt.

Chance raced toward the shots he heard, zigzagging from side to side. Two shots landed near him as he came forward, causing Chance to crouch lower, keeping his head down. He chose a route that arced above the shooter holding Linus, hoping to come in behind him.

Chance was almost in position when Polo Shirt jumped up and fired three times. “Freeze, shithead!”

Chance responded by diving for the ground, rolling into a prone position and putting the man down with a center-mass double tap. Polo Shirt grunted and collapsed.

One more and we might make it. Chance popped out the empty magazine, slammed another back in and kept running.

“Was that you, Jackson?” Asked Hat Man. “Did you get him? Jackson?”

Chance bit his lip and pulled at his chin. This must be Woody. One more to go.

Woody shoved Linus forward, keeping the gun to his head. “Whoever you are, I have your friend and I will kill him if you don’t show.”

“If you do, I’ll kill you immediately,” said Chance.

Woody turned the sound of Chance’s voice. “What about your friend?”

“Let him go.”

“Why should I?” Asked Mike.

“’Cause if you don’t, you’ll die.”

“So will your friend,” replied Mike, shoving Linus forward.

Chance checked the clip from Jackson’s gun. Four shots. Better make them count. He adjusted his weapon in the small of his back, making sure it would stay in place. He slipped his small high-lumen tactical flashlight from his shirt front pocket and held it in his left hand. “Put your weapon down and release your hostage.”

“You sound like a cop,” said Woody as he pressed the barrel of the pistol against Linus’s Temple. “If you shoot me your friend will die at the same time. Throw your gun down and come out where I can see you.”

Chance positioned his small flashlight in his left hand so he could hold it up and shined it at Woody’s face if need be. He relaxed his right arm and held the gun against his right thigh.

“I’ll walk out, holding my gun at my side. You lower your gun and let Linus go. I’ll let you back away and disappear. You can still walk out of this.”

“I’m not worried. And if I was, why should I trust you?”

“Because I care more about my friend than having a shootout with you. No one needs to get hurt.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Chance walked slowly into the light. His arms were relaxed and at his sides. He looked calm and resolved. His confidence and relaxed demeanor made Woody nervous.

“Don’t come any closer,” said Woody, his high-pitched voice revealing his state of mind.

Chance remained relaxed and ready; his weight positioned on the balls of his feet. “Lower your weapon and let my friend go. I’ll let you back away. It’s the best deal you’re going to get.”

“Drop your gun first,” demanded Woody.

Chances voice came out in a monotone, no emotion revealing itself within the timber of his speech. “I never give up my gun, not for anyone. I was a sharpshooter in the Navy, and you’ll be dead before my friend hits the ground. Don’t be foolish. You can keep your gun, walk away and I will not pursue. Do it now.”

Chance stood still and remained silent.

“I could drag him with me,” said Mike, puting his left arm around Linus’s neck.

“You’re wrong. You’ll make a mistake and I’ll pick you off one way or another. Take the deal.”

Woody pushed Linus forward while crouching behind him and fired three quick shots at Chance. Linus stumbled, but Chance was forced to wait until Linus fell far enough to give him a shot. The first shot that Woody fired hit Chance in his left shoulder, spinning him around, the second bullet kicked up the sand behind him and the third shot hit the handle of Chance’s pistol. Chance swore and rolled into the darkness, leaving the pistol behind.

Woody grabbed Linus before he could get away and shoved the gun into his back. “Looks like you lose,” said Woody, pushing Linus forward. “You’ve lost your gun. Come out now or your friend is a dead man.”

Chance remained in the prone position, keeping a low profile. “You should be careful. My friend knows the Taimanov variation.”

Woody laughed. “That sounds scary. I’m afraid your friend won’t have the opportunity to use a lame-ass karate move.

Chance was hoping that Linus would remember the “Flick the Knife” nickname of the chess gambit that he’d used to defeat him in the last game after Linus opened with the Benoni opening. It was a longshot, but worth using. He watched Linus closely to see if he got the message and was happy to see him carefully sliding his hand into his front pocket to fetch the folding knife he always carried.

Linus had a nervous habit of sliding the blade open with his right thumb then flicking his wrist to snap the blade open, a useful move his former Navy seal friend had taught him. Chance could see the knife in Linus’s hand, and he waited for him to flick the blade open. Come on, Linus, it’s your only option.

“Let him go!” Yelled Chance. “You can never walk away if…”

“Shut up. I’m the one in charge now.” Mike tightened his arm around Linus’s neck and fired three more shots in the direction of Chance’s voice.

Chance moved quickly, and the bullets thudded harmlessly into the sand. “I knew your first shots were lucky. Let him go!” Said Chance, moving immediately after speaking. He hid behind a small sand hill, assumed the prone position, and aimed for Woody’s head. Another two shots slammed into the sand at his former position.

“Come out now or I’m going to shoot him,” said Woody, kneeing Linus in the back. “This is your last…”

Suddenly, Woody screamed as Linus plunged the knife deep into his right leg. As soon as Linus was sure he had buried the knife to the hilt, he dove to the ground, leaving Woody momentarily exposed. Two quick shots rang out from the darkness and Woody’s head exploded, leaving his dying body to stumble for a step before it fell to the ground.

Chance ran up and grabbed Linus by the arm and lifted him up. “Are you okay?”

Linus looked at Chance and said, “Me? You’re the one that’s bleeding.”

“It’s not too bad,” said Chance. “But I need a bandage.”

“I’ll take care of that,” said Linus, ripping his shirt and wrapping it around Chances shoulder. “First, you beat me using the Taimonov variation, and then you save my life with it. Unbelievable.”

Chance nodded and patted Linus on the shoulder. “We have to hurry. Marlena has run off, but I’m not sure she’s safe. I shot Rick Jacobs in the hand and shoulder and hit the big guy with the Cowboy Boots in the knee. Even so, they still might be dangerous. Let’s go.”

They ran back to the drowning site, crouching intermittently, staying low and quiet to keep the advantage of surprise.