A FEW CASUALTIES SO WHAT

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Chapter 15

The banging on the door was loud enough to wake the dead. It was an hour before midnight.

Krasko was startled from a good deep sleep. He was watching a DVD, The Good, The Bad, and

The Ugly. The spaghetti western was anything but boring with it’s landscape, dramatic scene

setting music, and the coolness of Clint Eastwood, what was not to love. The banging on the

door was followed by a car skidding like a getaway from a bank robbery. Krasko got off the

recliner and headed to the kitchen. He grabbed the butcher knife; with no guns it was the only

thing worth calling a weapon.

Krasko stood at the door. No peep-hole to look through which would prove futile since there

wasn’t an outside door light or streetlight out in the middle of nowhere. Hell, they didn’t have a

porch for a porch light, just a three gray stone steps.

Krasko opened the door slowly clutching the knife. The moon went into hiding, and the only

light came from the living room lamp shining into the abyss. When the moon was out it didn’t

ease the conscience, in the day time the landscape was terrible, to greet you was a large dead oak tree

with a hollow black hole the size of a watermelon. If there was a lawn, a snake would probably

have made the tree it’s home, but even grass seemed afraid to grow on the cement dirt. The place

was certainly no garden of Eden. At night, any kind of light from the moon made the lifeless tree

look like something out of Sleepy Hollow. The living room light made it look like the tree was inviting

Krasko to come out and be grabbed by it’s tentacles of dead branches. No wonder who-ever was

at the door sped off like his life depended on it. The only positive thing Krasko saw was a large

black athletic bag on the top step. He yanked it inside slamming the door. He carried the bag

to the sofa and laid it on the stained floor. Krasko looked around and was glad that he didn’t

wake White. Krasko decided to wait till morning to discuss the bag. He was in no mood to

deal with White’s breath of death. He stretched out on the sofa, turned off the lamp, and closed

his eyes. The bag should be an interesting conversation.

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