Melissa Barker-Simpson

The theme of this week’s prompted feature at Tipsy Lit is ‘Taking on Death’.

Donnie looked into the cloudless blue sky and thought it a glorious day to die.

He could literally feel the life draining out of him, but it was hard not to be optimistic when he’d stopped a killer. The sun was all but pouring its approval on him.

He could feel the beads of sweat along his brow, though that was partly down to the pain burning a hole in his gut. It was like his very own ball of raging fire.

“Stay with me,” Nick said, squeezing his shoulder and demanding his attention.

When the haze cleared enough to focus on his partners face he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He knew that look.

“I can’t believe you took a bullet for me, man,” Nick said, in a voice that was cracked around the edges.

“Jesus, Nick, don’t you dare cry on me. I’m trying my hardest to be the hero here and die with a little dignity.”

“You’re not going to die, Don.”

Donnie’s legs were already numb, the cold was crawling up his back, ready to claim him. “Sure I am.”

“God damn it. This is so like you,” Nick said, stripping off his jacket and pressing it against Donnie’s wound.

“That’s gratitude for you,” Donnie muttered and looked back towards the sky.

But instead of clear blue, he saw a big, angry shadow and it was bearing down on them both.

“For God’s sake. Can’t anyone die around here?” he said and grabbed Nick’s gun from the holster at his hip.

Nick turned a moment before Donnie pulled the trigger, as surprised as he was that their suspect had risen from the dead.

Donnie fired two rounds into Jones’ chest and watched him drop to the ground as gracelessly as a felled tree.

The creep had killed seventeen people and would have killed them both in a heart-beat, so Donnie felt no remorse.

There was anger and resentment in the other man’s eyes. But there was also something else. Death was closing in fast. He saw it in the greying of his skin and the shadows as the last of the darkness devoured him.

Staring reality in the face was enough to reassure Donnie that he was very much alive.

He turned away, unable to watch the final moments. He didn’t need to see. He heard Karl Jones take his last breath.

“Where the hell is that ambulance?” he croaked, turning back to Nick. “This wasn’t my dance after all.”

***

Thanks for reading.

Mel