Category: Scaldcrow Stories | Page 7

The Scorpion and the Strange Black Bag

My sixty-two cent dinner crawled up my throat as I whipped the 32 Marmon, cutting off the wounded Ford. Both vehicles came to a metal grinding stop. The Greek festival parade was passing a block or so behind us, oblivious to the whole thing. Its music, cheers and fireworks covered the noise of the conflict.…

I watched as Detective Wiley ducked inside the chemical plant. Glass from the windshield was still lodged in my shoulder and leg; they hurt like hell. The Dawn-Slayer put a brick through the windshield of the 33 Marmon…lost control…hit a steel post. The accident left me disoriented. Can’t let that stop me now; I finally…