Control Read Online Free PDF

run.
    He just ran.
    He didn ’ t need a bike. Not now. He didn ’ t need a girl. Not how. He needed a girl, but not now— what he needed now was this: a stop sign and a tree. Up ahead he saw a tree. But no stop sign. The next corner was nothing. It was a shit corner, a nothing corner.
    He ran on.
    The next corner had a stop sign. It was a great fucking stop sign. But no tree.
    Shit.
    The next corner had them both, a stop sign and a tree—except the tree wasn ’ t a tree, it was like a twig more, nothing you could. use.
    More corners.
    Then he was there.
    Waiting.
    A car came up to the stop sign. Paused. Billy Boy didn ’ t budge —another bug, another goddam foreign job—they were bad luck tonight—not always, sometimes you could do okay with a foreign job, but he ’ d already left one tonight, there was no point to getting in another. Not when he sensed what he needed was a Cadillac.
    Next up was a Chevy. No go. He waited. Next up was a Buick. It was big but it wasn ’ t a Caddie and he was about to let it go when he sensed he was being picky, too picky, nothing wrong with a Buick, he ’ d made it plenty of times in a Buick, so as the car halted by the sign he burst out from the tree and the driver was on the other side but who cared, Billy Boy just ripped open the near door, and the driver was a big guy but who cared, Billy Boy just ripped him loose from the wheel, pulled him across the car and out, made a fist of his right hand, made a club of his arm, and one swing later the Buick guy was wiggling on the ground as Billy Boy slid in and vrrooom, gone.
    Gone but not safe, not with these clothes, not with these clothes and no money and those were items that needed fast taking care of, so if it was an open place first, he ’ d go for the money, if a clothing store, the other, he didn ’ t care which order, he needed both.
    The clothing store was dark. He pulled in the back, parked with the motor on, wondered what he would find he could use, comfort was important in clothes and comfortable clothes weren ’ t all that easy, at least not for him, but beggars couldn ’ t be anything else but, until they had clothes and bread, so he shouldered the back door open and the alarm was so quick and loud it shocked even him—goddam two-bit store, what the hell did it need to have an alarm that big for?—but he was inside, no time to waste with questions, and first he found some raincoats, got one that seemed maybe like it might be okay, then a pile of work shirts was no good, kid stuff, but another pile two counters down was better and he grabbed one of those and finally some jeans, it was hard to see sizes, so he took half a dozen and headed back out the door—
    —-right into a cop, a cop with a pistol, but before there were words he threw the clothes dead at the mouth of the gun and the cop was surprised long enough for Billy Boy to reach him and once he reached a cop, it was over, man, and when this cop was groggy on the ground Billy Boy took his pistol and aimed it at the cop ’ s nuts and the cop cried “ Jesus, please ” and as Billy Boy picked up his clothes he aimed it at the cop ’ s eyes and the crying was louder now, “ Don ’ t—Christ—gimme a —donnnn ’ t— ” this last and loudest coming as Billy Boy began to fire—
     
    —KA-BLAMM—
    —KA-BLAMM—
    —and now moving in close, three in succession.
    You had to laugh. The fucking cop passed out. You had to really laugh at a thing like that. Because all the shots missed; close, sure, but misses. And still he passed out.
    Chickenshit cops these days.
    He aimed his final bullet at a police car tire, tossed the pistol away, back in the Buick and Vrrooooooom ! A few miles on he saw a dark garage, pulled in, motor running, quick changed clothes. They weren ’ t good but not so terrible either. They ’ d do. They ’ d have to.
    And he ’ d have to leave the Buick, he didn ’ t sense it, he knew it, because the cop would be awake about now