“Get him!” They all start running afer me. I had about a seventy-five yard head start by the time they began running. I headed left down another alley. The bulldog was still about five feet from biting me again.
I make it to the street and run across the road through traffic. Several cars swerve to miss me but it didn’t slow down the dog one bit. As I get on the side walk I turn and run down the hilly street and trip on a broken slab of concrete. The bulldog jumps on my back and tries to bite my in the back of my neck. I turn around, get up, pick up the dog and throw it about twenty feet. I hear it squeal and see it get up and start running away with it’s tail between it’s legs. By that time the three men were there with handguns drawn.
“Stop right there, eighty-six!” Says the one. He had bright red hair and wore a dark blue jumper suit with black sneakers.
“Yeah, get on your knees!!” Grant says. I recognize is voice. He had a blonde spiked mo-hawk and wore a green cargo vest with a black shirt underneath.
What do I do...
“Get on your fucking knees!!” The third one shouted. He had some sort of device over his mouth that made his voice sound strange. He wore a black button up shirt that he left open with a wife beater underneath and dark blue jeans shorts.
I put my hands up and look around in panic. I take a few steps back.
“Don’t be an idiot! Get on the ground!”
“I don’t want to go back!!” I say and start running.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Don’t shoot, we need him alive!!”
“Shut up! He don’t need to know that!”
“Screw this!” I here grant yell and shots follow.
I feel a sharp pain in my right leg and my knee buckles as I step down. I fall on my face and they jump me.
“We’re serving a bounty on your head! Comply and we won’t have to use force!” The one in the black shirt says.
“You just shot me in the damn leg. Isn’t that force!?” I yell. One of them sits on my legs, another rams his elbow into my head and presses it into the ground and pulls my left arm up, the third hand-cuffs me.
“You started running, duh!” Grant laughs.
“Karber, call the boss and tell him we got eighty-six in custody,” the guy in the black shirt says as he stands up. They pull me up and prop me against a tree nearby between the gutter and the sidewalk.
“All right,” he pulls out a cell phone and starts dialing.
“What are you guys gonna do with me?” I ask, and I reach down to inspect the gun shot and the chain link in the cuffs snap apart. “Oops...” Karber just stares at me in awe and he sticks the phone back in his pocket.
“Grant, were those the cuffs we were issued or the pair we got to remember that wild night at the gentlemen’s club you got from that one busty girl?” Karber asks.
“No, those were real cuffs!” Grant replies.
I stop leaning on the tree, stand straight and shrug.
“What the hell are you?” Karber asks.
“If I knew, I’d tell you,” I say to him.