The Conch Shell of Doom Read Online Free PDF Page A

of here before I run over your head so much it pops like a zit.”
    “That’s not very nice.” Franklin glanced down at the blade. He stuck the tip in the cop’s cheek and flicked it, leaving a small gash on his face. “You’re lucky I’ve got a schedule to keep.”
    The cop’s cheek bled as he shouted every insult known to man at Franklin, who walked to El Cid. He’d hoped that cut would’ve cut the man down a peg or two, but the filth coming out of his mouth said otherwise. Oh, well. Franklin didn’t have time to teach the patrolman the finer points of etiquette.
    Six shots rang out, like a muffler popping over the sound of passing cars. Four tore into his back, one whizzed by his ear, and the last hit the Mustang’s trunk. Being shot hurt, but Franklin didn’t care. Those wounds would heal soon enough. Seeing El Cid take a bullet, on the other hand… that punctured Franklin’s soul. His baby didn’t deserve something like that.
    Franklin ran a finger around the car’s bullet hole. Bits of red paint flaked off. Those flakes felt like El Cid herself was bleeding. Why hadn’t he disarmed the cop? Stupid oversight. Time crunch or not, Franklin knew better than that. He scowled at the cop, whose eyes went back and forth from the gun to Franklin.  
    “How?” The patrolman’s hand shook, making the smoke from the gun’s barrel rise in a zig-zag fashion.  
    With three long strides, Franklin was at the cop, fingers wrapped around his throat. All he had to do was squeeze, and that neck would snap like a piece of celery.
    “Never mess with another man’s car. Especially a classic.” Franklin’s grip tightened. “Asshole.”
    The cop’s eyes bulged, and his face turned a dark shade of red. Much as the guy deserved to die, Franklin knew the cop needed to live. Otherwise, every law enforcement member in the state would be looking to take Franklin down. He released the cop’s neck, watching the man fall to the ground.
    “You son of a bitch,” the officer said in between coughs.
    Franklin smirked. He admired the cop for having the guts to mouth off. Franklin picked up the gun and broke it into pieces, tossing them in the woods. “See a doctor about that hand.”
    Inside El Cid, Franklin turned the engine on and checked the dashboard’s clock. He merged the car onto the highway, cursing the fates. He’d fallen too far behind to prevent step one of the Awakening.

CHAPTER THREE
To Be or Not to Be

    Mr. Lovell waited by a Chrysler outside of City Hall. Even in a Podunk town like Mooresville, City Hall was a three-story mockery of a building that doubled as a courthouse. He wondered if Mayor Benchley was putting off their meeting.  
    So what if he is? That fat pig knows we can find him.
    It was the part of the Awakening Mr. Lovell hated. The glad-handing. The promise making. Speaking with a coward like Benchley, who had no vision beyond his own personal fortune, bored Mr. Lovell. In the old days, people waited for him to arrive, not the other way around. Times had changed, and for the worse.
    Don’t be so glum. Their cowardice will make their deaths so much more rewarding.
    “Easy for you to say,” Mr. Lovell said out loud. “You don’t have to speak with them.”
    I experience everything you do, my friend. Ever since you took me in.  
    “Then you know I hate it. We could destroy this place with the flick of a finger.”
    In this day and age, we need the citizens’ help more than ever.  
    “Agreed, master,” Mr. Lovell said.
    The longer we keep the Awakening a secret from the world, the more easily we will crush them. Besides, this ruse won’t go on for much longer. Percy and his Rastafarian friend are on the way with my body parts, and once they’re reunited with my head in the Awakening, you’ll never have to do this again.
    Mayor Benchley emerged from City Hall. A football player in his earlier years, he went down the steps one at a time, holding a rail to support his bad knees. Mr. Lovell