Jennifer Apodaca - Samantha Shaw 04 - Batteries Required by Jennifer Apodaca Page B

then he was on his knees and reaching for his gun. I had to do something! But before I could figure out what, he grabbed his gun and stood up, pointing the gun right at my face.
    I held up the can of Diet Coke, like some kind of shield. My brain registered the sirens, which were growing louder. “The police are here!”
    “Freeze! I have a gun!” Angel’s voice boomed.
    “I’ll blow off her face!” The man retorted without looking Angel’s way. To me, he said, “Start backing up, toward the kitchen.”
    My vision tunneled and all I saw was the little hole at the end of the gun. Fear turned my stomach to a rancid, burning liquid. My skin heated and terror roared in my ears. I backed up, carefully, once step at a time.
    I didn’t want my face blown off!
    But the gun was getting closer, that tiny hole growing bigger. With every step I took backward, the intruder with the gun took two steps forward, bringing him closer and closer to me. By the time I got to the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, the gun was pressed up to the center of my forehead.
    TJ and Joel swam up behind my eyes. Who would pick them up from the skate park if I were dead? Memory snapshots of TJ and Joel riding their skateboards surfaced, then other pictures: TJ and Grandpa with their heads bent together over the computer. Joel and Ali playing on the trampoline. Mother’s Day, when they cooked breakfast for me.
    The memories vanished when the intruder moved the gun and shoved me hard. I went over sideways, dropping the can of soda and landing on the hardwood floor. The can exploded more soda all over me.
    The intruder ran through the kitchen and out the back door.
    Angel dashed past me, screaming that she would shoot.
    “Angel, no!” I yelled as I scrambled to my feet, stumbling once when my thigh screamed a painful reminder of my bruise. I ignored the pain and hurried after Angel. I didn’t want her to get shot! I raced through the swinging doors into the kitchen, but she had stopped at the back door, her gun hanging in her hand at her side. “He’s gone.”
    My legs started to shake. It took all my willpower to get across the kitchen to Angel. I put my arm around her shoulder, to steady myself and offer her comfort. “He might have killed you. What did he want?”
    She turned and looked at me with blazing green eyes. “I’m not sure what he wanted, but I know who he is.”

7
    L oud sirens blared down the street as Angel and I stood together looking out the back door of her house. We were both on adrenaline overload from being terrorized by the man with the gun.
    “Who?” I had my arm around Angel, and I turned to look at her face. “You know who that was?” I felt a shiver start deep in my chest.
    She dragged her gaze from the darkened night to me. “Zack Quinn. A poker dealer from Daystar. What the hell did he want?”
     
     
    It took the police an hour or so to determine that the alleged suspect was gone. Alleged! The fact that there was no forced entry appeared to make the uniformed cops doubtful of our story. They took a report and uttered useless suggestions. We had just shut the front door after the police left, when someone knocked.
    Angel hurried to the kitchen to retrieve the gun she had hidden in her Tupperware cupboard. While she did that, I looked through the peephole.
    “It’s Vance,” I whispered when Angel returned with the gun. She turned and opened a door to the entertainment center. Frowning at her, I said, “You have a permit for that thing, don’t you?”
    Angel pushed her red hair back off her face. “Yes, but it’s less explaining if the police don’t see it. I’m not about to let them confiscate it while they check on the permit. You saw how the cops didn’t quite believe us when they couldn’t find a broken window or a forced door that showed evidence of a break-in.”
    Watching Angel tuck the gun into the entertainment center, then shut the door, I thought about the times I’d seen Gabe unlock