Demontouched: The Demontouched Saga (Book 1) by Douglas Wayne Page A

another shot.
    The darkness begins to coarse through my veins. If I don’t get a grasp of this quick, fatty here isn’t going to have any more meals to worry about. I look over at him, raise my left hand slightly and concentrate on the barrel of the gun.
    “You win.” I raise my hands in the air. The gun flies out of his hands and up into the air. I pull my arms back into me, bringing the rifle to my hands.
    “Lucky for you, I don’t like to kill any more than I have to.” I eject the cartridges out of the gun then throw it on the ground. “Now, get out of here before my dark side decides to object with my preferences.”
    I hear sirens approaching from the south. Figures that I would end up pissing off the one police force still around after the Rising.
    Three police cars move in and surround me, headlights pointed at my ugly mug.
    I can feel the darkness flooding through my body and vertigo is starting to settle in. Not good.
    The officers, two per car open their doors and take aim squarely at me.
    “On the ground, now” the one in the middle yells.
    “Is there a problem, officer?” My whole life I’ve wanted to say that to a cop. Only now would I do it to a cop who has his gun out.
    “On the ground!” he says. I can see them talking into the microphones secured on their shoulders. They are too far away for me to make out, but I have good money they are getting ready to put me down.
    The darkness is getting too thick. My head is spinning.
    I.
    Must.
    Keep.
    It.
    Together.
    Breathe.
    Just need to breathe.
    I put my hands in the air and start to kneel.
    Right knee.
    Left.
    I start to go to the ground as the officer on the far right walks towards me. As I lay face down in the dirt I can feel the darkness continuing to grow. Moments later, Officer Jackwad places his knee in the small of my back and handcuffs me. Once I’m secured, he grabs the cuffs and lifts me up to my feet rather pleasantly, which I find amazing. Most of the time they like to toss you around like a rag doll, waiting for you to make a wrong move. When you do, they kick the shit out of you and file a resisting arrest charge. It’s nice to find one with some decency.
    He walks me over to the front of his squad car and slams me face first into the hood. Guess the pleasantries are over.
    “You carrying anything we need to be concerned about?” For some reason, they always like to ask that question. The part I don’t get is why they wait to ask that until after they start copping a feel.
    “Just a deep hatred for being slammed into your car,” I say. When he doesn’t get the joke I continue. “Knife in my left boot. Oh, and a lingering darkness in my soul that isn’t promising for my future.”
    Officer Jackwad proceeds to rifle through my pockets and finds my gloves. Then the knife. I watch as one of the other officers dumps the contents of my pack on the hood of the car.
    “You a holy man, mister?” He grabs the cassock from my collar and throws it with the rest of my stuff.
    “When the time calls for it.” Something tells me that time will be very soon.
    “I would have thought people would stop believing in God the moment he left us here,” lead cop says, grabbing my Bible.
    Another officer walks up to the house and opens the door. The same one one where I left the sheriffs corpse. “You are going to want to see this, Sergeant. It’s Bill.”
    Well, this show is about to get a shit-ton more interesting.
    Sergeant walks to the door and looks into the room. “Do you know what happens to cop killers, son?” he says, holstering his weapon.
    “Let’s see. They get taken to the station and booked, but won’t speak until they get a lawyer. Then they sit in a prison for months while evidence is collected. If they are lucky, a jury will be selected after a year or so. They get found guilty without a doubt. Jury never doubts a cop’s word. Then, they sit on death row for another two decades while the government waffles on whether or