Dusk to Dawn

By John smith and Sandra Maue

YOU ARE INVITED TO ENTER INTO FOURTH INSTALLMENT OF SHORT STORIES FROM THE MIND OF JOHN SMITH AND SANDRA MAUE. I HOPE YOU ARE PREPARED FOR THE ADVENTURES. IF YOU READ AT NIGHT, LEAVE AN EXTRA LIGHT ON WHEN YOU FINISH. EVEN THOUGH THERE ARE SOME LIGHT STORIES IN THIS WORK, YOU WILL FIND MANY THINGS THAT GO BUMB IN THE NIGHT, OR JUST MIGHT CRAWL OUT FROM UNDER YOUR BED. 

 

GETTING EVEN WITH TELEMARKERTERS:  They always call when you are eating or don't want to be disturbed…had had enough calls from people trying to see something he didn't want or need. See how he gets even. 

WINNER:  A MAN ENTERS A CONTEST EXPLAINING WHY HE THINKS THE SERIAL KILLER "AXE MAN" IS THE BEST IN HISTORY… HE WINS THE GRAND PRIZE AND OH WHAT A PRIZE.

SKELETON IN THE CLOSET: A YOUNG WOMAN DECIDES TO CLEAN OUT HER CLOSET AND DISCOVERS SHE HAS A ROOM MATE WHO SHE DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT AND HE ISN'T PAYING RENT. HE OFFERS HER A DEAL SHE DOESN'T WANT TO REFUSE. 

SECOND SHOT: BILL WILLIAMS WOKE TO THE SOUND OF A PISTOL HAMMER BEING PULLED BACK. HE SEES THE SILHLOUTTE OF A WOMAN STANDING IN HIS DOOR WAY. WILL HE REMEMBER HIS PAST OR WILL HIS BLOOD AND BRAINS DECORATE HIS HEADBOARD AND WALL. 

QUICK CHANGE: A WORKING HUSBAND HURRIES HOME TO PREPARE FOR HIS WIFE'S ARRIVAL FROM A BUSINESS TRIP. HE IS LATE BUT IS PREPARED FOR HER WHEN SHE ARRIVES. WITH DRINK IN HAND SHE NEEDS HER DESIRES TO BE FILLED…IS HE UP TO THE TASK. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Smith
• Release date: Oct 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223550365

Book preview

1

A MATTER OF ESCAPE

Escape was the only thing on the mind of Sam Jackson as he quickly gathered his belongings; one spent 50 caliber round, two empty MRE packets, and his tripod. With precision, he disassembled his sniper rifle before carefully packing it and the scope into its carry bag. He dusted the ground where he had laid for the past 36 hours and began to make his way down the back side of the mountain to the forest below.

The shot from the cliff had not been easy, but he was one of perhaps three people who could make it. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he thought of how the world would be safer until a new leader for this drug cartel was selected.

Sam knew he had about 45 minutes before the trackers would narrow their search to this area. He had chosen the site for that particular reason. The direction of his bullet would force them to search other, more accessible areas before working their way towards the cliff. With luck, Sam would be far enough out of the area that he wouldn’t have to fight his way out.

It had taken Sam two days of tracking and back tracking to reach the perfect sniper nest. He didn’t think anyone would patrol this far from the Drug King’s summer palace, but it was best to be careful and do things by the book. He hadn’t encountered any hostiles as he wandered up and down until he’d reached the hiding place. It would’ve been faster to travel straight up the mountain, but he would’ve had little cover and could have been spotted and killed on the barren side of this hill.

Now, with the mission completed, Sam’s thoughts were to get out quickly and alive. He had pushed his time limit to make it to the chopper and get out of danger. With a good head start, he might not have to fight his way to the Landing Zone (LZ) and his ride home. Once again, he would be the Ghost, that could get in and out without being seen, and return home without a scratch.

Less than five minutes had elapsed since Sam confirmed his kill. He made his way down the rough mountain terrain, not by trail … just in case he did pick up a tail, no need making it easy. Being a target, tended to complicate Sam’s day and he didn’t need any added difficulties on his way out of this foreign country.

It was slow going, but he would hit the valley several klicks from his climb point and put a lot of distance between the cartel and his position. He was making good time, scurrying from rock to rock, moving at angles away from his cliff and closer to the escape path in the jungle.

Sam slipped and fell between two boulders, which saved his life. The air from the bullet ruffled his hair. Seconds later, he heard an echo of the shot ricochet off the rocks above him. He flattened himself between the rocks and allowed three minutes from the time the bullet passed to the sound of the shot before inching his head up to scan the fire zone. Giving the shooter time to chamber another round and examine the spot where he disappeared, he scanned the area. It was good fortune that he slipped on the rock as the bullet flew overhead. The shooter was probably moving and not watching for movement to confirm his kill. It wasn’t some wayward soldier separated from his squad, nor could it have been a hunter. It had to be a sniper, and a good one at that to come so close to hitting him in the head.

Sam inched his way around the rocks and boulders, crawling on his stomach. To keep from being seen he dragged his equipment instead of carrying it on his back, so the sniper wouldn’t see his movement. He was wasting his time, but it was necessary. He would make up distance at a run. If he didn’t hustle, he could miss his ride home and leave him stranded in the strange country either become a captive or dead.

Rolling over, dragged his duffel bag up his stomach and reached for his sniper scope. Ever so slowly, his head came up from behind the final rock that offered protection. He scanned the area and saw nothing.

He checked his watch, he was running out. He was behind in making it to his LZ and he had no idea where the other sniper was hidden. Troops could reach this area any minute.

Stealth was no longer an option. He crouched and made a quick evasive run to the tree line. He ran in a zigzagged pattern, keeping his focus on his next source of cover. With his equipment now slung over his shoulder, he hoped his random pattern would keep him alive for the 15 or so seconds to reach the trees.

He rounded a tree and dropped to the ground. No shot was fired. There was no movement that he could see. Nothing indicated an enemy sniper was tracking him. Sam heard the sound of the chopper coming towards him. They were preparing to land in the clearing up ahead. He had two minutes to get on the craft once they touched down or be left behind.

Catching his breath and confirming his position, Sam ran for the LZ. There was no time for evasive techniques, he simply had to make it to the chopper before it left without him.

Reaching the edge of the woods, waving his arms, showing the crew he was their passenger. He made a dash for the transportation, when several shots rang out as men from the compound caught up with him. The gunner, standing on the edge of the open side door, swiveled the M-134-21 Minigun at the charging men, and opened fire. The 30-caliber machine gun found most of the targets before they knew what happened. The rest hit the ground. For the most part, they kept their heads down and didn’t raise their weapons.

Sam never stopped running his evasive pattern. The gunner kept spraying the area where the hunters had dropped until Sam dived into the chopper. At the same instant, the rotors received power and gave the craft enough lift to rise in the air and leave the hot zone.

Sam leaned against a folded troop seat and smiled at the gunner. Nice shooting, you saved my bacon out there. He said giving the gunner a three fingered salute.

The gunner, Staff Sergeant Werner smiled at the man laying by his feet.

The sergeant relaxed and soon fell asleep as the helicopter headed to the border and home.

2

QUICK CHANGE

It was after six when Alex Cunningham charged into the house, slamming the front door behind him. "I’ve got to get changed and ready.

The last organizational meeting lasted way too long since the division of work was a matter of contention for several executives. The bickering between various managers was disruptive as they each wanted to be in charge, even if they knew nothing about the project. Alex stood and said, This is a waste of time, I’m out of here.

Once he escaped that temporary insanity, he had to make an appearance in his department for Secretary’s Day recognition.

To round out his tardiness, the commute home was grueling in the insanity of evening traffic. He hung his work bag on the wall hook with a little too much force and bent it. A low growl emitted from deep in his throat. He latched onto the hook, then paused. He needed to calm down. In his current state, he could cause all kinds of damage.

Janice would be back from her business trip by seven-thirty … time was short. He had much to do to be ready for Janice.

She expected him to be of service to all her needs.

He lacked the time to complete all the steps to end his evening routine. Being obsessive-compulsive meant he would have trouble functioning until tomorrow night. But it was his own fault, and he would have to live with it.

He rushed through everything with the hope of easing his guilt. The cat was fed dry, not canned food, but Alex did empty the water bowl and filled it with fresh cold water. He made only a halfhearted attempt to clean the litter box. No emptying the box and rinsing it out. He simply cleaned out the clumps, added some fresh litter and considered the job done.

At last, he showered, but to save time did not complete his normal routine of soap, scrub, rinse then repeat three times before climbing out of the water.

Technically, he was almost ready for bed. Clean and fresh smelling, the average man would have been ready for his woman. But Alex was not an average man … his energy was draining at a faster pace than usual. Although he appeared to be rested and relaxed, waiting for his mate to return home, he was completely worn out. There was one more item requiring his attention, one last duty to help him focus and listen to his wife as she talked about the trip as well as having the energy to provide the physical attention she required. Only then would he be rewarded with a few hours’ sleep before the cycle began again.

This task had to be completed before she walks through the door. He thought to himself. She was due home at any minute and the time crunch had him on the edge of panic. Turning to the closet, he took something carefully out of a box on the top shelf. Raising the lid, he studied his second skin. It looked fresh and just the way he folded it.

Carefully removing the ‘skin’ from the container, he spread it on the bed. It was paper thin, smooth, and flawless to the eye. Naked, he stretched out on his partner’s side of the bed. Drawing himself next to the other skin, until they touched fingers.

In the instance the two skins met,