Needful Things - Stephen King [325]
He was shooting at Ace with one hand while the other pressed against his chest above his heart.
Seat Thomas's second try plowed into the earth right next to Ace, splashing muddy water on the toes of his engineer boots. The old buzzard couldn't shoot for shit, but Ace suddenly realized he had to get the hell out of here, anyway. They had put enough dynamite in the courthouse to blow the whole building sky-high, they had set the timer for five minutes, and here he was, all but leaning against it while fucking Methuselah took potshots at him.
Let the dynamite take care of both of them.
It was time to go see Mr. Gaunt.
Ace got up and ran into the street. The old Deputy fired again, but this one wasn't even close. Ace ran behind the yellow newsvan, but made no attempt to get into it. The Chevrolet Celebrity was parked at Needful Things. it would do excellently as a getaway carBut first he intended to find Mr. Gaunt and get paid off. Surely he had something coming, and surely Mr. Gaunt would give it to himAlso, he had a certain thieving Sheriff to find"Payback's a bitch," Ace muttered, and ran up Main Street toward Needful Things.
6
Frank jewett was standing on the courthouse steps when he finally saw the man he had been looking for. Frank had been there for some time now, and none of the things going on in Castle Rock tonight had meant much to him. Not the screams and shouts from the direction of Castle Hill, not Danforth Keeton and some elderly Hell's Angel running down the courthouse steps about five minutes ago, not the explosions, not the most recent rattle of gunshots, this time from right around the corner in the parking lot next to the Sheriff's Office. Frank had other fish to fry and other lemons to squeeze. Frank had a personal APB out on his excellent old "friend," George T. Nelson.
And boy-howdy! At last! There was George T. Nelson himself, in the flesh, strolling by on the sidewalk below the courthouse steps!
Except for the automatic pistol jammed into the waistband of George T. Nelson's Sans-A-Belt polyester slacks (and the fact that it was still raining like hell), the man might have been on his way to a picnic. just strolling along in the rain was Monsieur George T.
Motherfucking Nelson, just breezing along with the Christina breeze, and what had the note in Frank's office said? Oh yes:
Remember, $2, 000 at my house by 7:15 at the latest or you will wish you were born without a dick. Frank glanced at his watch, saw it was closer to eight o'clock than to 7:15, and decided that didn't matter much.
He raised George T. Nelson's Spanish Llama and pointed it at the head of the son of a bitching shop teacher who had caused all his trouble. it NELSON!" he screamed.
"GEORGE NELSON! TURN AROUND AND LOOK AT ME, YOU PRICK!"
George T. Nelson wheeled around. His hand dropped toward the butt of his automatic, then fell away when he saw he was covered.
He placed his hands on his hips instead and peered up the courthouse steps at Frank Jewett, who stood there with rain dripping from his nose, his chin, and the muzzle of his stolen gun.
"You going to shoot me?" George T. Nelson asked.
"You bet I am!" Frank snarled.
"Just shoot me down like a dog, huh?"
"Why not? It's what you deserve!"
To Frank's amazement, George T. Nelson was smiling and nodding.
"Ayup," he said, "and that's what I'd expect from a chickenshit bastard who'd break into a friend's house and kill a defenseless little birdie.
Exactly what I'd expect. So go ahead, you yellowbelly foureyes fuck.
Shoot me and get it over with."
Thunder bellowed overhead, but Frank didn't hear it. The bank blew up ten seconds later and he barely heard that. He was too busy struggling with his fury and his amazement. Amazement at the gall, the bold, bare-ass gall of Monsieur George T. Motherfucker Nelson.
At last Frank managed to break the lock on his tongue. "Killed your bird, right! Shit on that stupid picture of your mom, right again! And what did you do? What did you do, George, besides make sure that I'll lose my job and never teach again?