Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One by Adam Knight Page A
Authors: Adam Knight
Tags: Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Sex, Action, Canada, Dresden, Murder, Urban, cowboy, Lee Child, -OVERDRIVE-, Violence, Adam, knight, outlaw, ending, Lightning, jim butcher, winnipeg, reacher, joe, winnipeg jets
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sound
clapped loudly in the sparsely packed diner. Echoing.
Two lightbulbs
burned out.
A third one
exploded.
The jukebox
speaker squawked loudly and then died. Smoke curled out from the
back panel.
No one said a
word.
The waitress
stood over at the till, covering her head with her serving tray to
protect herself from more lightbulb shards. A short scream hid
behind her tightly pressed lips. The cook in the kitchen stared out
into the dining room. So were the other patrons’.
Staring.
At me.
My face went
red, I could feel it in the
oh-so-grade-school-puberty-induced-acne-humiliating way creeping up
my face.
Cathy stared at
me too. Then around the diner. “What the hell?”
My fingers
tingled. I pried my gaze away from the room and stared at my greasy
fingers.
I waggled them
all individually.
They tingled.
Like the after effect of pins and needles.
“Well,” I said
loudly, intentionally breaking the silence. “That was weird, wasn’t
it guys?”
Chapter
10
“So,” I
drawled. “You were saying something?”
Cathy muttered
something unintelligible, still staring at the scene.
The waitress
was busy. Bustling from table to table and apologizing for the
freak power surge, refilling coffees and smiling widely. Her
manager had apparently agreed to complimentary desserts for
everyone’s inconvenience. Using a broom and dustpan, the cook was
out from the kitchen sweeping up glass shards from the combusted
forty watt bulb and complaining loudly about “shoddy wiring” and
“ancient building not being up to code.”
“Cathy.” I
prodded. Her gaze came back to me. I smiled weakly, trying to
ignore the smell of smoked jukebox in the air.
“Hmmm?”
“You were
saying something?”
“I was?”
“Yeah. About
you media types. About my … er … incident?”
Cathy blinked a
few times. Then stopped with her eyes closed, collecting her
thoughts.
“That was
really weird, Joe.”
“I know,
right?” The tingling in my fingers had gone away but I could still
feel the chill at the base of my skull, almost right behind my eyes
as I scanned the diner. I chuckled lamely. “What are the odds,
eh?”
She laughed
softly. “Real long, that’s for sure.” Cathy opened her eyes and
took a deep breath. She reached for her notepad again, flipping
through it while absently adjusting a stray lock of her hair and
tucking it behind one ear. It was a familiar gesture. One that had
been burned in my mind for a dozen years since the first time I’d
seen her do it in journalism class.
Apparently it’s
possible to be turned on and weirded out at the same time.
Who knew?
“Let’s start
with the facts,” Cathy began scanning one finger down the page in
front of her, finding her place.
I gently
removed my palms from the table where they had stayed since that
weird moment where I looked like a complete freak. My fingers were
trembling slightly. I laced them together firmly and rested them
down in my lap.
“Fact,”
Cathy continued glancing up at me. “Nine nights ago members of the
street gang known as the Native
Posse attempted to gain entry into Cowboy Shotz nightclub. A confrontation occurred
with nightclub security, during which a staff member was
shot.”
I nodded
fractionally, keeping my poker face intact despite her clinical
assessment of my near death experience.
Cathy turned
back to her notes. We both ignored the line cook as he passed by
with a wide push broom leading the way in front of him. I most
certainly ignored the pointed stare he gave me.
“Fact,” Cathy
continued clinically. “Keimac Cleghorn, twenty-one years old, was
arrested by off duty officers on scene. Charges of public
intimidation, uttering threats, possession of an unlicensed
firearm, violating terms of his probation and finally attempted
murder.”
My fingers
tightened. That cold tingle
clapped loudly in the sparsely packed diner. Echoing.
Two lightbulbs
burned out.
A third one
exploded.
The jukebox
speaker squawked loudly and then died. Smoke curled out from the
back panel.
No one said a
word.
The waitress
stood over at the till, covering her head with her serving tray to
protect herself from more lightbulb shards. A short scream hid
behind her tightly pressed lips. The cook in the kitchen stared out
into the dining room. So were the other patrons’.
Staring.
At me.
My face went
red, I could feel it in the
oh-so-grade-school-puberty-induced-acne-humiliating way creeping up
my face.
Cathy stared at
me too. Then around the diner. “What the hell?”
My fingers
tingled. I pried my gaze away from the room and stared at my greasy
fingers.
I waggled them
all individually.
They tingled.
Like the after effect of pins and needles.
“Well,” I said
loudly, intentionally breaking the silence. “That was weird, wasn’t
it guys?”
Chapter
10
“So,” I
drawled. “You were saying something?”
Cathy muttered
something unintelligible, still staring at the scene.
The waitress
was busy. Bustling from table to table and apologizing for the
freak power surge, refilling coffees and smiling widely. Her
manager had apparently agreed to complimentary desserts for
everyone’s inconvenience. Using a broom and dustpan, the cook was
out from the kitchen sweeping up glass shards from the combusted
forty watt bulb and complaining loudly about “shoddy wiring” and
“ancient building not being up to code.”
“Cathy.” I
prodded. Her gaze came back to me. I smiled weakly, trying to
ignore the smell of smoked jukebox in the air.
“Hmmm?”
“You were
saying something?”
“I was?”
“Yeah. About
you media types. About my … er … incident?”
Cathy blinked a
few times. Then stopped with her eyes closed, collecting her
thoughts.
“That was
really weird, Joe.”
“I know,
right?” The tingling in my fingers had gone away but I could still
feel the chill at the base of my skull, almost right behind my eyes
as I scanned the diner. I chuckled lamely. “What are the odds,
eh?”
She laughed
softly. “Real long, that’s for sure.” Cathy opened her eyes and
took a deep breath. She reached for her notepad again, flipping
through it while absently adjusting a stray lock of her hair and
tucking it behind one ear. It was a familiar gesture. One that had
been burned in my mind for a dozen years since the first time I’d
seen her do it in journalism class.
Apparently it’s
possible to be turned on and weirded out at the same time.
Who knew?
“Let’s start
with the facts,” Cathy began scanning one finger down the page in
front of her, finding her place.
I gently
removed my palms from the table where they had stayed since that
weird moment where I looked like a complete freak. My fingers were
trembling slightly. I laced them together firmly and rested them
down in my lap.
“Fact,”
Cathy continued glancing up at me. “Nine nights ago members of the
street gang known as the Native
Posse attempted to gain entry into Cowboy Shotz nightclub. A confrontation occurred
with nightclub security, during which a staff member was
shot.”
I nodded
fractionally, keeping my poker face intact despite her clinical
assessment of my near death experience.
Cathy turned
back to her notes. We both ignored the line cook as he passed by
with a wide push broom leading the way in front of him. I most
certainly ignored the pointed stare he gave me.
“Fact,” Cathy
continued clinically. “Keimac Cleghorn, twenty-one years old, was
arrested by off duty officers on scene. Charges of public
intimidation, uttering threats, possession of an unlicensed
firearm, violating terms of his probation and finally attempted
murder.”
My fingers
tightened. That cold tingle
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