Writers and Readers of Distinctive Fiction (WRDF)
Life...The Way You Dream It
Prologue of my new book...
Hey guys, check this out. It's the prologue to my new book. Tell me what you think. Enjoy
Prologue of "The Wheels of Justice" by Terri Ann Armstrong
Running through the alley, Bars sped up. He knew old Timmy was on his tail, but in his mind he also knew he could out smart, out shot and out last him or any man any day of the week. Being in the tank as many times as he was made him an expert at many things illegal. In fact, he’d been there so many times; the other inmates dubbed him “Bars”.
After seven stints in the joint, his real name had long since been forgotten.
Bars just seemed to fit him and his new, natural habitat.
Reaching the end of one alley, it bent to the left going down another. Turning the corner, Bars looked back; Tim was nowhere in sight. Laughing, he turned back around to look where he was going and stopped cold.
“I see you’re a bit smarter than I thought,” snickered Bars.
“You got that wrong, friend. I’m a lot smarter than you thought,” smiled Tim drawing his pistol.
From the beginning, Bars misjudged him. Detective Chief Tim Williams was a top-notch, super-cop with years of service tucked snugly under his belt. He was the best at deduction, implementing plans and ultimate capture of those known as, “the bad guys”.
Often underestimated, Tim used it to his advantage. Ten years ago, Carlyle—a then murderer of three policemen—shot him in the line of duty. After the emergency surgery, he was left a paraplegic.
In the beginning he felt useless and was certain the job he loved as an officer was over. However, after extensive physical therapy and going to the policemen’s gym to lift weights with a special trainer, he was in top condition again, minus the use of his legs. Tim wasn’t about to let that get him down. He was as good a cop as ever. He didn’t need his legs working in order to out think a criminal. Every officer had the utmost respect for him and his strengths.
Facing Bars now, was just another day for him and he was going down.
“What’s the matter, Bars? Never been on the other side of gun before?”
“Come now, Timmy old boy, you can’t honestly think you can catch me do you?”
Shaking his head, he thought to himself, why do all the scumbags talk like that? Don’t they have a clubhouse they hold meetings at to get the low down on what’s happening?
“If I had a nickel from every low-life who thought they could beat me, I’d be a billionaire by now. I could retire; buy a nice house on the lake…”
“Enough chit chat. You and me, we’re at what’s known as a standstill here.”
Smiling, he said, “I wouldn’t call it that exactly.”
“Really? What would you call it oh, great one?”
Broadening his smile, Tim said, “It’s more like you’re going to jail and I’m the guy that’s going to put you there.”
Slowly, Bars walked toward him, no weapon in sight. Carefully, he struck up a new conversation, hoping to distract the determined officer.
“So, you think I’m going to prison? You sure do think a lot of yourself, don’t you Timmy boy? You don’t honestly think you can out run me do you?” he asked smugly.
Unwilling to wait for an answer, Bars quickly shifted himself to the right, ran past the wheelchair and bolted down the alley.
He didn’t get far. Turning his chair around, Tim took aim and shot out one of Bars’ kneecaps, causing him to fall to the ground, writhing in agony. At that close range, he doubted Bars would ever walk right again.
Making his way over to the pathetic sight, Tim lowered his .40 caliber Glock and said, chuckling, “Hurts like hell, don’t it?”
“Kiss my ass!”
Tim couldn’t resist poking him once more, “Hey, Mr. Intelligence, you might be able to out run me, but you can’t out run a bullet.”
Prologue of "The Wheels of Justice" by Terri Ann Armstrong
Running through the alley, Bars sped up. He knew old Timmy was on his tail, but in his mind he also knew he could out smart, out shot and out last him or any man any day of the week. Being in the tank as many times as he was made him an expert at many things illegal. In fact, he’d been there so many times; the other inmates dubbed him “Bars”.
After seven stints in the joint, his real name had long since been forgotten.
Bars just seemed to fit him and his new, natural habitat.
Reaching the end of one alley, it bent to the left going down another. Turning the corner, Bars looked back; Tim was nowhere in sight. Laughing, he turned back around to look where he was going and stopped cold.
“I see you’re a bit smarter than I thought,” snickered Bars.
“You got that wrong, friend. I’m a lot smarter than you thought,” smiled Tim drawing his pistol.
From the beginning, Bars misjudged him. Detective Chief Tim Williams was a top-notch, super-cop with years of service tucked snugly under his belt. He was the best at deduction, implementing plans and ultimate capture of those known as, “the bad guys”.
Often underestimated, Tim used it to his advantage. Ten years ago, Carlyle—a then murderer of three policemen—shot him in the line of duty. After the emergency surgery, he was left a paraplegic.
In the beginning he felt useless and was certain the job he loved as an officer was over. However, after extensive physical therapy and going to the policemen’s gym to lift weights with a special trainer, he was in top condition again, minus the use of his legs. Tim wasn’t about to let that get him down. He was as good a cop as ever. He didn’t need his legs working in order to out think a criminal. Every officer had the utmost respect for him and his strengths.
Facing Bars now, was just another day for him and he was going down.
“What’s the matter, Bars? Never been on the other side of gun before?”
“Come now, Timmy old boy, you can’t honestly think you can catch me do you?”
Shaking his head, he thought to himself, why do all the scumbags talk like that? Don’t they have a clubhouse they hold meetings at to get the low down on what’s happening?
“If I had a nickel from every low-life who thought they could beat me, I’d be a billionaire by now. I could retire; buy a nice house on the lake…”
“Enough chit chat. You and me, we’re at what’s known as a standstill here.”
Smiling, he said, “I wouldn’t call it that exactly.”
“Really? What would you call it oh, great one?”
Broadening his smile, Tim said, “It’s more like you’re going to jail and I’m the guy that’s going to put you there.”
Slowly, Bars walked toward him, no weapon in sight. Carefully, he struck up a new conversation, hoping to distract the determined officer.
“So, you think I’m going to prison? You sure do think a lot of yourself, don’t you Timmy boy? You don’t honestly think you can out run me do you?” he asked smugly.
Unwilling to wait for an answer, Bars quickly shifted himself to the right, ran past the wheelchair and bolted down the alley.
He didn’t get far. Turning his chair around, Tim took aim and shot out one of Bars’ kneecaps, causing him to fall to the ground, writhing in agony. At that close range, he doubted Bars would ever walk right again.
Making his way over to the pathetic sight, Tim lowered his .40 caliber Glock and said, chuckling, “Hurts like hell, don’t it?”
“Kiss my ass!”
Tim couldn’t resist poking him once more, “Hey, Mr. Intelligence, you might be able to out run me, but you can’t out run a bullet.”
Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by P J Lawton on
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Good start my friend. I just don't know how you do it, you just a little book writing machine. Good luck with the latest.
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Permalink Reply by Terri Ann Armstrong on -
PJ,
Coming from you, that means a whole bunch. I am constantly amazed by what you put on paper, or in the case of today's technology, what you type on the screen. You are brilliant, but you already know how I feel about your work. I can't wait for the new series and my copy of the third in the "Lethal" trilogy.
Keep up the good work.
Your biggest fan,
Terri
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