Early Birds

By Alex Wilson

A sleepy retirement destination with sleepy retirees...or was it? A string of cleverly orchestrated unsolved robberies were accumulating that were almost too well executed. They were precisely performed like a well rehearsed play. In fact, exactly like a well rehearsed play.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Wilson
• Release date: Nov 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466113749

Alex Wilson

At 72, Alex's wife said 'Why not try writing?' Within 4 months he had six novellas on Smashwords and now, a couple of years later, 18. Obviously there was stuff lurking in there waiting to be said. Alex's wife is also his muse and editor, and a good one. They live in St. Petersburg, FL where there is a surprising amount of writerly activity.

Book preview

Early Birds

A novella by Alex Wilson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Alex Wilson

Cover attribution: KevinT2141

Discover other titles by Alex Wilson at www.wilsonwritings.com

The dog track, one of a half dozen in Pinellas County, Florida, is a private affair. The owner/ managers, Phil and Miriam Rousch, are a middle age couple who struck it rich with the track and attached poker parlor. Miriam and Phil are self-aware enough to know that it’s their own damned fault that their only child, Phil, Jr., is such a wastrel and an arrogant prick. They didn’t want him to know the difficult times they had endured so they spoiled him rotten. They couldn’t help themselves. They were naturally generous people and gave Phil, Jr. a BMW for his 16th birthday when he was a junior in high school and they didn’t ask for much in return.

Now that he is grown, Phil, Jr. resents his one chore; delivery of the receipts to the bank night deposit after the poker closed at midnight on Saturday. It interrupts his carousing with his pals although, with the new 3 am closing curfew in St. Petersburg, he still has time to catch up with them for the last vital hour of drinking. So, he shows up, resentful and grouchy, to pick up the money bags and do his duty. He loads them into the trunk of his new Mercedes AMG and heads for his favorite route to the bank down a dark, seldom-used back road that allows him to approach the bank from the rear to preclude being followed on a main thoroughfare. And, he has on the passenger seat another source of fearlessness; his Glock 9mm. It isn’t registered but he’s sure the cops wouldn’t quibble about that if he has to use it to ward off an attack. He’s above needing to go through the annoying licensing process. In fact, he’s above anything he finds inconvenient.

It’s late and dark and he has a little buzz on. Not enough to cause him any trouble. He can handle it.

When he comes to a bend in the backwoods route, he’s surprised to find the road blocked by an accident. A truck is half on and half off the road and a sedan in the other lane has steam coming from under the hood. As he approachs, his headlights illuminate an old man waving his arms and a woman on the ground with blood on her skirt. Other people are hovering over her looking agitated. He slows to a stop, cursing the delay.

The old man rushes up to his window talking excitedly. Phil, Jr. lowers the electric window just enough to hear the man through the crack.

‘Young man, thank God you’re here. We need your help. We’ve called 911 and they said they will get here as quickly as they can, but all the emergency equipment is tied up with a hotel fire. We have a woman bleeding and we need to get her to an emergency quick. Can you give her a ride?’

‘I don’t know, I’m in a bit of a hurry and have an urgent trip of my own.’

The old man is incredulous. ‘More important than saving this woman’s life?’

‘Take one of the other vehicles.’

The old man sputters, ‘Do you think I would be here begging if we could. Both vehicles are disabled. Com’mon, son, do the right thing, for Christ sake. We’ll wrap her up so you don’t get any blood on your fancy new car.’

‘Alright, alright. Get her in here.’ Phil, Jr. pushes the unlock button.

At the sound of the lock release, the old man’s eyes get large as he looks over the top of the car and says, ‘Oh, my God. What’s that?’ and points toward the field on the passenger side of the car.

When he turns to look, the old man swiftly swings open the driver’s door and, in one smooth motion before Phil, Jr. could look back, puts a needle into his neck and pushes the plunger. Phil, Jr. feels the needle prick and his face registers surprise and confusion. He turns away to find his handgun but merely slumps sideways onto the seat on top of it.

When Phil, Jr. awakes, he’s lying on wet grass on the side of the road. There’s faint light in the eastern sky. As he tries to sit up, his head pounds with a monumental headache. He’s used to morning headaches but not like this one. He lies back down and tooks stock. He suddenly recalls the accident scene and the man asking for help. That’s all he can come up with. But, there are no cars, not even his. He feels his pocket for his cell phone but it isn’t there. He feels his other pocket for his wallet. It’s there. He sits up and looks around. There’s nothing except grass. It’s like he’s been deposited by an alien ship. Eventually, he gets to his feet and looks up and down the road. He tries to remember how far he is from an intersection. With a throbbing head and a bit of unsteadiness, he begins to walk back the way he’d come.

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