Greg knew that if he didn’t jump soon Sondra would shoot him again. Which one was he more likely to survive—a bullet in the back or a seventeen-story fall? Maybe the pistol would misfire. Maybe she’s out of bullets. Lord, I really need a miracle—and I need it fast.
“Okay, fine,” said Sondra. “It will be more fun this way. I’ll shoot you in the other arm… then each leg. I’ll just keep pumping bullets into your body until I run out. Then I’ll give you a push.” She jammed the muzzle into his left triceps.
At any moment Sondra’s bullet would come, with bone-shattering certainty. Then on to his legs. No! Greg was not going to just stand there while she turned him into a bloody Raggedy Ann, and then tossed him into the river. But she had a gun. He had nothing. And he was on the outside of the guardrail. No more time to think about it. Must act now!
“Sondra?”
She turned around and saw E. Z. standing near the back of the Bonneville. “What are you doing here? This is none of your business. And how did you get up here?” She heard something and spun around.
But Cynthia was right behind her. She grabbed Sondra’s right wrist and forced it, and the pistol, upward.
The gun discharged into the sky.
Greg started to climb over the guardrail.
Sondra turned sharply and pulled the pistol down, along with Cynthia’s hands. Now the gun was pointed in Greg direction.
He put his foot back down and moved along the outside of the railing, trying to get out of the line of fire.
E. Z. joined Cynthia, latching onto Sondra’s arm. They pushed her toward the guardrail, with the same idea—to slam Sondra’s hand down on the top of the railing repeatedly until she dropped the gun.
Greg moved away from them and climbed over the guardrail.
Sondra tried kicking and elbowing Cynthia and E. Z. to get them off of her. But they were relentless. They whacked her fingers against the unforgiving cold steel of the railing over and over. On the seventh time the pistol fired, but hit nothing. On the tenth, she dropped the gun, and it fell down into the darkness.
Cynthia and E. Z. stepped away from Sondra.
Greg rushed to Cynthia and hugged her.
“Do you have your cell phone?” he said.
“Here come Angie and Edsel,” said E. Z.
“I’m sure they’ve already called the police,” said Cynthia.
“That’s good,” said Sondra. “Now Greg will go to prison where he belongs.”
“What?” said Cynthia.
“Oh, that’s right,” said Sondra. “Greg probably hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet. Go ahead, Greg, tell her how you murdered Boomer.”
“What are you talking about, Sondra?” said E. Z.
“It’s true. Greg followed her to her motel room and raped her. Then he slit her throat. He told me all about it.”
“You’re the one who murdered her,” said Greg. “And then you set me up.”
“Oh, that sounds quite plausible. I’m sure the police will believe every word of it. That is, if they can get past the fact that your sweaty DNA is all over her naked body. But at least you wore a condom.”
“What’s she talking about, Greg?” Cynthia’s faith in Greg was strong, but she was confused, to say the least. She wanted to wipe the smirk off Sondra’s face. Maybe a hard punch in the teeth would do it. “You’re a liar.”
Sondra laughed. “That’s why I’ll never go to jail.” She climbed up on the guardrail and stood on top of it. A strong gust of wind would have swept her into the air and down into the Neches River. But she showed no concern. “I’m just too smart for the police.” She began to walk along the top of the railing as though it were a tightrope.
“We know you killed your mother,” said E. Z.
“I did not!” Sondra twisted and her shoes slipped. She fell off the guardrail, and was unable to catch it on the way down. But she did manage to grab hold of the structure below.
Greg, Cynthia and E. Z. ran to the guardrail.
Sondra’s feet were dangling as she held on with both hands. “Help me, please!”
Without thinking, Greg climbed over the railing.
“Greg, no!” said Cynthia.
“I have to.” He couldn’t just stand by and let Sondra fall to her death—even if she was a murderer.
Angie and Edsel got out of the Tahoe and ran to join Cynthia and E. Z. They all looked on helplessly as Greg climbed down to Sondra.
He held on with his left hand while extending his right down to her. “Grab onto my hand.”
Sondra clamped onto Greg’s wrist with one hand, then the other.
Greg wasn’t sure he could pull her up. But he’d heard stories of people gaining super-human strength in cases like this. He prayed it would kick in.
Sondra looked up at him. She seemed scared at first. Then her face contorted into the most evil grin Greg had ever seen. “Come with me, Greg. It’ll be such a rush.”
A chill swept over him. It was as if Sondra’s body had been taken over by Satan himself. He no longer cared whether she lived or died. But she was the one holding on.
“You can’t imagine how fantastic it’s going to feel, Greg. Think of your best orgasm. Now multiply it by a thousand.”
“Greg, let her go!” yelled Cynthia.
“I’m trying to!”
Sondra began swinging her legs forward and backward while laughing hysterically. “Let’s have an accident together, Greg. You know you want to.”
His arm was burning and going numb at the same time. The blood oozing from the bullet wound had soaked his shirt sleeve and was beginning to run down his arm.
Sondra began to lose her grip as the blood flowed down onto her hands and between her fingers. Finally, she clung to the knot at the end of the rope—Greg’s hand. As the inevitable sunk in, she looked up into Greg’s eyes.
Greg could see that Satan was gone now. The grin had disappeared—replaced by sheer terror. But she didn’t scream. She just continued to look up at Greg as her body was sucked down into the abyss.
*
Cynthia checked the clock on the emergency waiting room wall. It was nearly 2:00 AM. “How bad do you have to be hurt for them to see you right away?”
Paramedics rushed in pushing a gurney, and went directly into the emergency room. The woman was screaming at the top of her lungs.
“That bad, I guess,” said Greg, pressing a towel against his bloody arm.
Edsel and Angie walked up. “We had a little talk with the police,” said Angie. “You can wait until tomorrow to give your statement.” They sat down in the corner next to E. Z.
“Good. Thanks,” said Cynthia. On their drive to the hospital, Greg had explained what happened with Boomer.
“Tomorrow? It’s already tomorrow. But I guess I should just be glad I’m still around for it. Thanks guys, for coming to rescue me.”
“You’re welcome,” said E. Z.
“What I don’t understand,” said Greg “is how you and Cynthia popped up all of the sudden and surprised Sondra. How did you do that?”
“Yeah, that was a good plan.” Cynthia smiled and gave E. Z. a high five. “You tell him. It was your idea.”
“Okay. Here’s what we did: While Edsel was talking to Sondra from the car, Cynthia and I slipped out the door on the other side. Then we got down real low and sneaked up to the side of your car.”
“Then Angie just drove around you and went down the bridge,” said Greg.
“Right,” said Cynthia.
“It scared me to death,” said Angie. “But somebody had to do something.” She paused and reached over to take E. Z.‘s hand. “But, I still don’t understand why you went to Edsel’s hospital room this afternoon.”
“You really don’t know who am I?” said E. Z.
Angie was puzzled. “Should I?”
“I moved here to Orange so I could meet you.”
“Why did you want to meet me?”
“I grew up in a little town west of Fort Worth. But when I turned sixteen I started searching for you. Because that’s when they told me.”
Angie felt a lump in her throat.
“I’m your daughter.”
Angie started crying.
Edsel put his arm around her as he spoke to E. Z. with a gentle firmness. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. Angie doesn’t have any children.”
E. Z. placed her hand on Angie’s shoulder. “You never told him?”
“Don’t,” said Edsel. “You’re making her cry.”
“It’s okay,” said Angie. “It’s true.” When the nurse that afternoon had assumed that the young lady who visited Edsel’s room was Angie’s daughter because she looked just like her, Angie had brushed it aside. How could it have been? She knew she had a daughter somewhere out there in the world, but what were the chances that she’d ever come to Orange, Texas?
“What?” said Edsel.
Greg and Cynthia watched in amazement.
“And I think,” said E. Z., looking at Edsel, “that you’re my father.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“She’s right,” said Angie.
“That’s impossible,” said Edsel.
“No, it’s not,” said Angie. “Remember that one time when I was a senior in high school.”
“Yeah, but—”
“—well, I got pregnant.”
“No, you didn’t. I was there—remember. Until your dad broke us up right after your graduation and sent you off to—.”
“—to have the baby.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep this from me?”
This was what Angie had dreaded. Now there would be no wedding. Edsel would never forgive her for keeping the secret all these years. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“So, it wasn’t that you didn’t want me,” said E. Z.
“No, not at all. My dad thought he was doing the right thing. I was only 18. I wanted to keep you so badly. And I wanted to tell Edsel about you.”
“You should have,” said Edsel.
“I know.”
“So… I’m really her father?”
Angie could see it in his eyes. He wanted it to be true. “Yes.”
He stood up. “I want to hug my daughter.” Tears began to drip down his face.
E.Z. got up and hugged him gently. “I don’t want to hurt your ribs.”
“It’s okay. Right now I’m feeling no pain.”
Angie stood and joined the hug. “Have you had a good life? What are your parents like?”
“They’re wonderful. I was so lucky. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”
“Well,” said Edsel, “I guess now we’ll have to get married.”
“Huh?” said Angie.
“You know—now that we have a kid.”
They all smiled and hugged tighter.
“Okay,” said Edsel, “not quite that tight.”
“Will you be my maid of honor?”
E. Z. smiled. “I’d love to.”
Angie kissed her on the cheek.
Greg looked at his wife. “Wow. That’s amazing. Did you have any idea?”
“No,” said Cynthia. “Of course, all I could think about this whole time was you.”
Greg kissed her on the lips. “Thank you, Sweetie.” He glanced over at the happy threesome again. “It’s like she’s a baby, and they’re just seeing her for the very first time.”
“Yeah,” said Cynthia. “Wouldn’t that feel great?”
“What?”
“To have a baby.”
“Well, sure. You know I—.” He studied her face. “Are you saying—”
“—yes. I think I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, Honey.” He hugged her. Over her shoulder he saw Angie, Edsel, and E. Z. still embracing. He was so happy for them. But at the same time he was thankful that he would meet his baby while it was still… a baby.
*
Greg and Cynthia attended Edsel and Angie’s wedding. It was small, but beautiful. Herman Mayberly apologized to Edsel, Angie, and E. Z. for what he had put them through.
Slowly but surely, Greg made peace with his dad. Ralph had missed Greg and Cynthia’s wedding, but he and Norma drove to Coreyville for the birth of their grandson. Edsel, Angie and E. Z. came too. Greg had wanted to name his firstborn ‘Edsel,’ but he and Cynthia had compromised with ‘Edward.’
Little Edward would be raised in the new tradition of the Tenorly family. Along with love, hope, and faith, his parents would teach him the value of a positive attitude. They would tell him to always fight for what is right. Never give up and never give in. Be your own man and do your own thing to the best of your ability. In the words of Uncle Edsel: FLY THE RAIN.
THE END
*
For more information about Robert Burton Robinson and his novels, please visit RBRbooks.com